— Now you understand, Mr. Marshall, — said Constable Lyons, — why this house and the house on Acorn Street must never be spoken of. Dr. Grenville assured us that you are a supporter of the abolitionist movement. If you are ever captured, you must not say a word about these outposts, for you'll endanger untold lives. People who have suffered miseries enough for ten lifetimes. —
— I swear to you, I'll reveal nothing, — said Norris.
— It's a dangerous business we're in, — said Lyons. — Never more than now. We can't afford to have our network revealed, not when so many would root us out and destroy us if they could. —
— You are all members of the order? Even Dr. Grenville? —
Lyons nodded. — Again, a secret not to be revealed. —
— Why are you helping me? I'm not a fugitive slave. If you believe Mr. Pratt, I'm a monster. —
Lyons gave a snort. — And Pratt is a toad. I would have him tossed out of the Night Watch if I could, but he has maneuvered his way into the public eye. Open up a newspaper these days, and all you'll read are the deeds of heroic Mr. Pratt, brilliant Mr. Pratt. In truth, the man is an imbecile. Your arrest was to be his crowning triumph. —
— And this is why you help me? Merely to deny him that triumph? —
— That would hardly be worth the trouble I've gone to. No, we help you because Aldous Grenville is utterly convinced of your innocence. And to let you be hanged would be a grave injustice. — Lyons looked at the old woman. — I leave him here with you now, Mistress Goode. Tomorrow, Mr. Wilson will return with provisions for his journey. There was no time tonight to make such arrangements. In any event, it will be dawn soon, and it's best that Mr. Marshall waits till tomorrow nightfall to start his next leg. — He turned to Rose. — Come, Miss Connolly. Shall we return to Boston? —
Rose looked stricken. — Can I not stay with him? — she asked, her eyes bright with tears.
— A lone traveler moves more quickly and safely. It's important that Mr. Marshall is unencumbered. —
— But we part so suddenly! —
— There is no choice. Once he's safely away, he will send for you. —
— I've only just found him again! Can't I stay with him, just tonight? You said Mr. Wilson will come tomorrow. I'll return to Boston with him then. —
Norris grasped her hand more tightly and said, to Lyons: — I don't know when I'll see her again. Anything could happen. Please, allow us these last few hours together. —
Lyons gave a sigh and nodded. — Mr. Wilson will be here before noon tomorrow. Be ready to leave then. —
They lay in darkness, their bed illuminated only by the moonglow through the window, but it was enough light for Rose to see his face. To know that he was looking at her as well.
— You promise you'll send for me and Meggie? — she said.
— As soon as I've reached a safe place, I'll write to you. The letter will come from another name, but you'll know it's from me. —
— If only I could go with you now. —
— No, I want you to stay safe in Dr. Grenville's house, not suffer on some godforsaken road with me. And what a comfort to know that Meggie's cared for. Truly, you've found the best place possible. —
— The one place I knew you'd tell me to hide her. —
— My clever Rose! You know me so well. —
He cupped her face, and she sighed at the warmth of his hands. — The best is yet to come for us. You have to believe that, Rose. All these trials, all these miseries, will just make our future so much the sweeter. — Gently he pressed his lips to hers, a kiss that should have made her heart soar. Instead it brought a sob to her throat, for she did not know when, if ever, they would meet again. She thought of the journey that lay ahead for him, of secret way stations and wintry roads, all leading toward what? She couldn't picture the future, and that's what frightened her. Always before, as a girl, she'd been able to imagine what was to come: her years working as a seamstress, the young man she would meet, the children she would bear. But now, when she looked ahead, she saw nothing, not a home with Norris, nor children, nor happiness. Why had the future suddenly vanished? Why could she not see beyond this night?
Is this the only time we will ever have?
— You'll wait for me, won't you? — he whispered.
— Always. —
— I don't know what I can offer you except a life in hiding. Always looking over our shoulders, always watching for a bounty hunter. It's not what you deserve. —
— Nor you. —
— But you have a choice, Rose. I'm so afraid that one day you'll wake up and regret this. I'd almost rather we never see each other again. —
Moonlight blurred through her tears. — You can't mean that. —
— I do mean it, but only because you deserve to be happy. I want you to have a chance at a real life. —
— Is that truly what you want? — she whispered. — That we live our lives apart? —
He said nothing.
— You must tell me now, Norrie. Because if you don't, I'll always be waiting for your letter. I'll wait until my hair is white and my grave is dug. And even then, I'll be waiting — Her voice broke.
— Stop. Please stop. — He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him, — If I were truly unselfish, I'd tell you to forget me. I'd tell you to find your happiness elsewhere. — He gave a sorrowful laugh. — But it seems I'm not so noble after all. I'm selfish and I'm jealous of any man who'll ever have you or love you. I want to be that man. —
— Then be him. — She reached up and clutched at his shirt. — Be him. —
She could not see into the future; she could see only as far as these next few hours, and tonight might be all the future they'd ever have. With every heartbeat she could feel their time together slipping away, receding beyond the reach of anything but memory and tears.
And so she took what time they had left together and wasted none of it. With feverish hands she pulled at the hooks and laces of her gown, her breaths quick and frantic with the need for haste. So little time; dawn would be upon them. Never before had she made love to a man, but somehow she knew what to do. She knew what would please him, what would bind him to her for always.
Moonlight shone down, rich as cream, on her breasts, on his bare shoulders, on all the secret places, the sacred places, they had never shown each other. This is what a wife gives her husband, she thought, and though the shock of his entry stole her breath, she rejoiced in it because pain was how a woman marked the triumphs in her life, in lost virginity, in the birth of every child. You are my husband now.
Even before the night lifted, she heard the crowing of a rooster. Stirring awake, she thought: Insane old bird, fooled by the moon, announcing false dawn to a world still asleep. But it was no false dawn that soon glimmered in the window, and she opened her eyes to see that darkness had lifted to a cold and sullen gray. In despair, she watched the day brighten, the sky deepen to blue, and though she would hold back the morning if she could, already she felt Norris's breathing change, felt him surface from whatever dreams had kept him so soundly entwined around her.
He opened his eyes and smiled. — It's not the end of the world, — he said, seeing her mournful face. — We'll live through this, too. —
She blinked away tears. — And we'll be happy. —
— Yes. — He touched her face. — So very happy. You just have to believe. —
— I don't believe in anything else. Only you. —
Outside, a dog was barking. Norris rose and went to look out the window. She watched him standing there, his bare back framed in the morning light, and hungrily committed every curve, every muscle to memory. This will be all I have to comfort me until I hear from him again, she thought. The memory of this moment.