In the Shadows

the glow of a lantern before it opened and Daniel stood, in a night-

shirt with trousers pulled on beneath. His light hair was mussed,

the remains of pomade causing the back to stick up in a way she

would have smiled at another time.

“Cora?” he asked, squinting out at them. “Is your mother

hurt? What’s wrong?”

“No, not my mother. I’m sorry. I —” The words lodged in her

throat. Daniel had only recently been promoted to deputy. Not

four summers ago they had sat together with the other local chil-

dren on the banks of the creek, watching their feet turn violent red

and tingly from the chill of the water, laughing at Minnie’s face

deliberately smeared with wild berries to look like blood. That

vision of light-drenched youth broke against the night around her,

scattering away into pieces she’d nev

er find again.

Growing up, she found, was a heartbreaking endeavor.

“Come inside, you look about to faint. Is that Arthur? And

who’s this?”

“Thomas Wolcott, sir. We’ve got some bad news.”

Cora leaned against the door frame, barely hearing the story as

Thomas laid it out. She felt heavy and thick with guilt. If she had

stayed at home, if she had stayed in bed, it wouldn’t have hap-

pened. She felt in her bones that seeing it had made it happen, that

she had pulled death right to the witch’s door.

“Oh, Mary.” Daniel said the woman’s name like a prayer, and

Cora felt it pierce her heart and drop down to the ground.

Mary.

Daniel pulled on a coat, buttoning it slowly over his night-

shirt. “Come on, then,” he said, wearier than the hour alone could

account for. When had he grown so old? Was the same weight of