“It’s not silly,” Minnie whispered.
Cora shook her head, shutting Minnie out again. “That man.
Do you think he’ll tell Mother?”
“No. I don’t.” He had nothing to gain by it, and it struck Min-
nie that Alden was a man who always wanted something to gain.
And it didn’t fail to register for her that he had no reason to be
in this hallway — in the back of the house, where the family had
their rooms and no guests ever stayed.
Minnie wanted to stay and comfort Cora, but it was clear
Cora wanted no such thing. Very well, then. Minnie tore out of
her clothes, throwing on a change of dress and pulling her hair
back, not caring that it soaked her collar. “I’m going to go get
something to eat,” she said, ducking out of the room before Cora
could protest being left with all the wet clothes. Minnie took the
back stairs, slipping along the wall and into the pantry. She found
the kitchen empty, and slid a small, sharp knife out of the drawer.
She could not shake the way that man had leered at her sister.
Like Cora was already his.
Cora was hers. She would never lose her, and she would never
let anyone hurt her again. A spare ribbon secured the knife under
her dress against her thigh, and the cold secret of it felt like power.
World War II
eleven
C
ORA WALKED NEXT TO THOMAS -- BUT NOT SO CLOSE
THAT THEY WERE TOUCHING -- DOWN THE LONG LANE
TOWARD TOWN. They had left Minnie and Charles
engaged in a game of checkers, where Minnie was cheating outra-
geously and Charles was letting her.
The bright summer day filled in the silence with a thousand