Asa appeared in my mind, beaten unconscious on the Ambrosia’s deck. I’d already been deeply hurt by “war matters.” I knew better than to believe I’d be shielded from them.

As we drew closer to the dock, the city seemed to stretch back and never end. So much hard brick. So many sharp rooflines. New York looked like it could devour me in one bite.

“Is that your Dr. Holdridge?” asked the captain.

I followed his milky eyes toward the dock. It was empty—strangely so—except for the small group walking to the end. There were two ladies dressed in gowns wide as sails—one purple, the other yellow as an egg yolk—and a short gentleman in a burgundy coat and buckskin breeches. As he walked with the ladies, he watched our boat and raised a hand, signaling to us. “Yes, Captain. That’s him.”

I felt light-headed as we glided up to the dock. I couldn’t look up as the men tied off the boat, but I felt Dr. Holdridge staring down at me. I squeezed my hands into fists till my fingertips tingled.

Had I prepared enough?

But if he saw me for an impostor, none of my efforts would matter.

The captain handed me up to the dock. As soon as I shifted my weight onto solid ground, my legs folded beneath me.

“Steady, dear.” Dr. Holdridge reached out and took my arm. I looked right into cheerful blue eyes, like glass in sunlight; then they widened with shock. “You are not the girl I remember.” I jerked back, my heart dropping like a rock. “My dear Miss Coates,” the doctor continued, “you’ve gone and grown up!” His soft cheeks plumped with a huge smile. “How glad I am to see you again. How very, very glad I am, in spite of the unfortunate circumstances that have brought us together again. Do you remember me? But how could you, you were so young then. Scarcely a child of three—and then, like now, you had suffered so much. I came to Antigua to see your father just after your dear mother passed to heaven, God rest her soul. History can be so cruel in its patterns, so unfair in doling out hardships.”

He kept talking with eagerness and such kindness. Assuring me of our connection.

As I stood there, listening, I felt no relief at having succeeded. All I felt was a sagging awareness that I was now going to have to live completely in lies and fabrications. My gown, my petticoats, my name…it was all false. Even the blood in my veins, which was true, felt hot and unfamiliar. But this was my chance at a good life. Everything coarse and uncivilized about me had to stay in the past. From now on, everything was going to be perfect.

I sank into a deep curtsy.

Then I rose, a lady.

Chapter 10: Drawn from Memory

New York City

August 1779