Callie came back from taking Curiosity home and found a spot alone under the big oak on the opposite side of the clearing. It was a good spot if she wanted to watch the game that was rushing back and forth, and it was even better if she needed to be left alone with her thoughts.

She had feared the worst when Curiosity dragged her off, but then the talk had been easy enough. Mostly about Nicholas, what kind of boy he was, how he dealt with disappointment and sadness and the loss of his friend. It was clear that Curiosity liked the boy, and that pleased Callie, though she couldn’t have said why.

What pleased her less was the way everybody was watching her. As if she couldn’t be trusted to look after a nine-year-old boy. As if she were a child playing house, and unaware of the challenges ahead.

But they would see, soon enough, that she could take care of a household, a husband, and a child. She intended to make sure every one of them realized how wrong they had been about her.

Although Elizabeth had a strong urge to walk over and sit with Callie, she understood it would be a mistake. Callie did not like to be seen as weak and she would not thank Elizabeth for her interference, no matter how well meant. Instead Elizabeth went into the house, where the women were gathered in the kitchen. Voices and laughter came to her in the hall and she hesitated a moment before going in.

Hannah was nursing her Simon with her feet propped up on a stool. She sat beside an open window that provided a view of the children and the bagattaway game. The sun fell over her hair and made her skin glow gold and copper. It stroked her breast and the child’s cheek, so that his lashes threw shadows as he suckled contentedly. It was a moment so clear that Elizabeth thought it would stay with her forever.

“Come sit,” Hannah said.

“I’ve done enough sitting,” Elizabeth said.

“Well, there’s no room for another pair of hands over here,” Jennet said from the business end of the kitchen. “So you might as well keep Hannah company.”

Elizabeth could have argued that Jennet was the one who should be off her feet, but she didn’t want to disturb the atmosphere in the kitchen any more than she had already. She sat.

Susanna brought her a cup of tea. “Peppermint,” she said. “With a little honey.”

“I wish you would come visit with us more often,” Elizabeth said. She caught Annie’s eye. “All of you.”

“We’ve been in the cornfield every day,” Annie said. There was something of pride in her tone; she knew what she owed to her family, and the work came easy to hand. It occurred to Elizabeth, and not for the first time, that young women were as competitive as men, but in ways men were not likely to see or comprehend.

For a few minutes they talked about the gardens and cornfields, who might have seed to share, and whether the early spring meant a longer or a shorter summer.

“But I do mean to come visit more often,” Susanna said. “It’s just that the days go by so quickly.”

“And the nights too, I’m sure.” Joan LeBlanc said under her breath. Elizabeth jerked around, but Joan had turned her back and was scrubbing the table.

If Susanna had heard Joan’s comment, she was giving no sign of it.

Elizabeth asked about Lily.

“Upstairs,” said Jennet. She arched her back and stretched. “Taking a nap with the weeest of the wee people.”

“You need a nap as much as Lily,” Elizabeth told her.

Jennet waved this suggestion off as if she were shooing away flies.

“When is the baby due?” Martha asked.

“That’s a matter of some debate,” Jennet said. “By my reckoning, early August. Curiosity insists July, and Hannah here is keeping her opinion to herself. I think it’s odd they won’t take my word on it. I was there when it happened, after all. Och, Martha, I’ve embarrassed you. I apologize.”

Martha smiled to herself, and Elizabeth imagined she was enjoying the company of these women who she could now claim as sisters. They were, and would always be, a powerful force in her life. They would help her bring her children into the world, and stand by her when illness and misfortune struck, as she would stand by them.

She wondered, as she sometimes did since her last birthday, how many years were left to her, how long she would be able to watch Martha grow into her new life and family. Then she thought of Curiosity and took some comfort in that good example.

She said, “Martha, do you feel yourself come home?”

Everyone looked at her, as if she had said something out loud they never knew the words for. Martha’s smile softened.

“Yes, I suppose that’s what I’m feeling. I’m—” And she broke off.

“Pregnant!” said Joan LeBlanc. “I knew it!”

Martha turned very quickly, color rising on her cheeks. “I am not,” she said, with great dignity. “And if I were, it would be none of your concern. I would like an apology.”

Joan looked as though she had been slapped. Which she had, in a way. She mumbled something that might have been an apology and then something else about the parlor and slipped away, out of the kitchen.

Anje was worrying her lip with her teeth, her eyes wide.

“The lass is aye angry,” Jennet said.

“At me?” Martha said, clearly upset. “Why should she be angry at me?”

Elizabeth said, “She’s angry at everybody.”

Anje said, “Don’t send her off, please. It would only make things worse.”