The house was well made, the walls thick enough to reduce the noise of the waterfalls to a hush, but oddest of all, it smelled pleasant. After a winter of scraping and curing pelts it should have been ripe, but there was only the faintest odor of bear grease and gun oil. It was true that Susanna had hung bundles of dried flowers and herbs from the rafters along with the last of the stores of corn and squash and onions, but in Martha’s experience those things could hardly be enough.

“She airs every room out, twice a day,” Hannah said, “no matter the weather, and she leaves many of them open all night. It was one of her conditions.”

“For marrying Blue-Jay?”

Hannah laughed. “For living up here. I don’t think there’s any force in nature that could have changed her mind about Blue-Jay.”

From the chamber that opened off the main room Susanna called out to them.

“The skirts will be a little short, but the stockings are good wool.”

Martha’s voice creaked. “I’m glad of whatever you can lend me. Truly.”

Her own things were hanging in front of the hearth, dripping into the hissing fire.

Behind her Hannah said, “You could stay here and rest, if you like.”

It was a reasonable thing to offer and Hannah’s tone was unremarkable, but Martha tensed. Another decision to make, and she could hardly organize her thoughts enough to drink a cup of tea. Daniel Bonner had kissed her, and she had kissed him back, and somehow or another she had to make sense of that before she walked out of this house and had to look him—and everybody else—in the eye.

“Daniel swam in that lake every day, winter and summer, from the time he was old enough to walk until he built his own place,” Hannah went on in a conversational tone. “He still comes up to swim two or three times a week at first light. He’s hardened to the cold in a way you can’t be. I’m worried that you may come down sick.”

“Oh,” Martha said. “You think it would be wise for me to stay here by the fire, is that what you mean?”

“No,” Hannah said. “I hope you’ll come back to the party with us, but I don’t want you to feel as though you must.” And then she hesitated. It was odd to see such an expression on Hannah’s face. To Martha she seemed the most self-possessed and confident woman she had ever known. It was something of a relief to realize that others found the situation as awkward as Martha did herself.

Hannah said, “Daniel didn’t mean for it to go so far, I’m sure of that. He would never put you in danger.”

Martha tried to look interested but not overly so.

“You couldn’t know this,” Hannah said, “but it’s been a very long time since we’ve seen Daniel so playful. We have you to thank for that.”

“It wasn’t anything I did,” Martha said. “I just happened to—” her voice trailed away, because if she didn’t believe the things she was about to say, Hannah certainly would not.

Hannah was smiling now, a soft smile with a great deal of understanding in it. She said, “You haven’t asked me for advice, but I’m going to give you some anyway. As embarrassed as you are now, one day you’ll look back on this night—on this whole summer, is my guess—and the memory will warm you.”

“I forget sometimes that you’re old enough to be my—to have a daughter my age,” Martha said.

“Oh please.” Hannah laughed. “I’d rather you thought of me as a sister.”

Before Martha could think of a response to such a surprising statement, Susanna appeared with an armful of neatly folded clothing. Underskirts and skirts, sleeves and a fitted bodice and the stockings, as promised.

Susanna had a bright smile and the kindest of eyes. A friendly girl, people said of her, always attentive and sincere. And how her parents had grieved when she turned her back on the Friends and went her own way.

“Are you happy here?” Martha heard herself ask the question and wished she could take it back, but Susanna seemed to take no offense.

“Dost thou mean, do I miss my family and my home? Thou sees that John comes to call whenever he can, and that helps a great deal. But I am happy here, so happy that sometimes I fear that I might wake up and find it was all a dream.”

She glanced at Hannah, who smiled at her. “This is where I am meant to be,” Susanna said. “I want no other life.”

“Listen,” Hannah said, straightening.

“Who is that with the rattle?” Susanna said after a moment.

Martha thought it was a question for its own sake and expected no answer, but Hannah had one.

“Standing-Elk is come. Listen, the Round Dance is starting.”

Hannah looked so excited and pleased that Martha felt her own pulse leap.

“Then you should go ahead, both of you,” she said. “As soon as I’m warm through I’ll dress and come out, I promise.”

—

The bonfire had been built up so that the flames shot into the night sky and pulsed with the beat of the drum. It had a life force of its own, and as it danced it threw shadows around it like a many-layered skirt.

Daniel retrieved his pack from where he had left it on the other side of the lake, and standing there in the shadows, he dressed. First he exchanged the wet sling for a dry one, and then he pulled on breeches and a loose shirt, moving gingerly and praying that his shoulder would leave him in peace this evening. At the moment the pain was small and far away; cold water could do that, and the excitement. And most likely, he told himself, the kissing.