“What ’bout Josh?” she asked.

“He c’n figger thet out fer his own self,” Jinny said. “He works with stone, likely he c’n make somethin’ outa flint.”

But the notion that Josh might be able to learn to scry and then the two of them could talk to each other every single night before bed made her so happy that it completely washed away the unhappiness she’d felt when Jinny had said tomorrow was going to be rainy.

It was no night to be hanging out the window, looking at the moon and wondering if Josh was looking at the same moon, wondering if she was looking at the moon . . .

Instead, she tucked herself properly into bed, and although she intended to lie there and think about Josh and wonder what he was doing, no sooner had she settled in, listening to the rain drum on the roof, than it was morning.

Jinny was stoking the stove, so there would probably be baking today. And it was Sunday, which meant a full bath. When she climbed down the ladder, Jinny greeted her with, “We’ll be hevin’ our bath in th’ rain, so I’m a-warmin’ up th’ place. An’ since we’ll be a-hevin’ our bath in th’ rain, we’ll be gettin’ whatever in the garden looks like it’s gettin’ puny afore thet, ’cause it won’t matter a hill o’ beans how wet an’ muddy we gets.”

She sighed. Wet, cold, muddy, and Aunt Jinny was still not going to let her go see Josh, most likely. No point in putting up her hair with those pretty hairpins—she just took both braids and pinned them in a sort-of bun with a splinter of wood. Then she got dressed, leaving off the petticoats, tied her drawers up above the knee, tied her skirts up, and went out to take care of the hogs and chickens.

By just before lunchtime, she and her aunt were filthy, soaking wet, and half frozen, but they had a good lot of produce gathered that would otherwise have gotten ruined. It wasn’t until they were both clean and dry and Jinny was dishing out dinner that it occurred to her that if she were stupid enough to insist on going down to the Holcrofts—by the time she got there, she’d be just as soaked-through muddy and mucky as she had been after working in the garden. And never mind all the other things Aunt Jinny had reminded her of—she purely didn’t want Josh to see her looking like a drowned cat!

“I reckon y’all’s a-pinin’ fer young Holcroft,” her aunt said with a smirk, passing her cornbread. “Wall, it come t’me thet we c’n kill two bird with one stone. Y’all hev been havin’ trouble scryin’, but I reckon scryin’ someone y’all know will come easier, an’ y’all got motivation t’try an’ see the boy.”

Her jaw dropped. “I c’n do thet?” she demanded.

“It’ll jest be a-seein’ him,” her aunt cautioned her. “Unless he larns how t’scry back, y’all won’t be able ter talk. But I’m thanking we jest needs t’git y’all over that stile of not bein’ able to see. Once y’all c’n do thet, I reckon we c’n get y’all a-talkin’ t’ th’ Marsters I know.”