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Back The Beholder Save as PDF
Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. Acknowledgments
  61. About the Author
  62. Books by Anna Bright
  63. Back Ad
  64. About the Publisher

I flung the folder into my trunk. It landed with a light thud on top of Godmother Althea’s book. I pulled the covers over my head and turned over, determined to sleep.

But then I stilled.

Strange sounds were coming from my trunk. Like a fire crackling or sled runners scraping cobblestones or—whispers. Then, they stopped.

I shook myself. It was only the ship—the sailors making late-night rounds or having late-night conversation. I needed to rest.

I will figure this out, I told myself. I will get up every day and weave a shroud and then pull it apart at night.

Whatever happens, I’ll stay one step ahead, and I will get home to Daddy and Potomac.

I put another tick mark in Momma’s book and finished the Rosary. But I still couldn’t sleep.

I scrambled out of bed and made for deck.

15

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Huffing a little, I pounded up the stairs and burst out onto deck beneath the stars. Fresh air rushed across my skin as my feet carried me up to the forecastle, where Homer stood at the helm.

“Did you have nightmares?” Homer’s voice was gruff as always, but I suddenly noticed a warmth beneath his words. Something loosened in my chest.

I lay down on the deck and let the damp wind stir my hair. “Sometimes I’m not sure which are worse,” I said. “Nightmares, or the thoughts that come to visit when I wake up alone in the dark.”

Homer frowned. “What’s got you bothered, girl? I can toss Perrault overboard, if need be.”

But I was too anxious to laugh. “I just—tonight, I—” I broke off. Homer’s unvarnished manner of speaking, the very thing that made me trust him, was precisely the reason I couldn’t haul my folder up to the forecastle and talk with him about boys. Kind he might be, but it just wouldn’t do.

He squinted at me. “Let me guess: you’re finding complications at every turn. You’re—” He halted, scratching at his beard. “The more you learn, the less you’re sure.”

I swallowed. “You could say that.”

“Hmm.” Homer edged the wheel to the right, shaggy gray eyebrows furrowed. He said nothing.

In the dark, beneath the sky, I thought I could almost feel the moon as it pulled at the ocean, pulling my thoughts across the waves to all the people I missed. My eyes sank closed.

“We’re lucky to have had so many clear nights,” Homer said thoughtfully.

“Not much rain,” I agreed. “Not a good thing in Potomac, but nothing needs it out here.” I nodded my head backward at my little cluster of planters on the main deck. “Not much, anyway. The moon looks beautiful.”