In order to follow her brother and remain unnoticed, Elizabeth wore trousers she’d taken from the laundry and a scarf over her hair; she made certain to stay far enough behind so that Nathaniel wouldn’t see her. She had the right to worry about him; as children they’d been on their own, for their mother could not cope with real life and the losses she’d been subjected to. Elizabeth acted as a mother would for Louisa and Nathaniel both; she was fierce, and she would not be tricked by nonsense and acts that would land her dear brother in trouble.

  She saw them at the pond and then she knew. She wasn’t surprised to find that a woman was at the bottom of Nathaniel’s strange behavior. Their sentimental, emotional brother had fallen in love more times than Elizabeth could count. She shaded her eyes while she crouched behind some mulberry bushes. The woman held nothing back when she embraced Nathaniel. It was as if they had married themselves to one another without the benefit of any proper documents. Even a woman who could never hope for love for herself knew it when she saw it. Elizabeth turned and ran through the field. She was breathing hard, and she found that she was jealous of them both, of her brother for finding such passion, and of the woman for being so free with herself, as if she could do whatever she pleased without consequence.

  The following day Nathaniel was called away to speak with his uncle. He asked his trusted sister Elizabeth to help him by taking a message to someone. He could not be in two places at one time, both with their uncles and with the woman with whom he had fallen in love.

  “Love?” Elizabeth said, shaking her head. “Are you sure that’s what it is?”

  “You’ll understand when you meet her,” Nathaniel vowed. “Just go and tell her I will not be there till late afternoon. I don’t wish to disappoint her. And I’m trusting you,” he reminded his sister. “Don’t let me down.”

  Elizabeth went with the intention of saying much more than her brother had instructed her to. She hoped to chase off this woman in order to ensure that Nathaniel would return to his work and not be tempted into ruining his life. All of the family’s hopes rested on him, and if that burden was too much for him to bear, then Elizabeth would help him carry it as best she could.

  Mia was at the pond, wearing one of Louisa’s dresses. Her boots were muddy, and her hair was tangled, yet she was beautiful. She had shaded her eyes to get a good look as Elizabeth neared. Some might call Elizabeth plain, but she had her own sort of beauty, one she did her best to hide, with clear gray eyes not unlike Nathaniel’s, and rather strong features. She also had a suspicious nature, heightened by her bright and inquisitive mind. The women approached one another with care.

  “This explains my brother’s state of confusion,” Elizabeth said.

  “Love is confusing,” Mia said. She knew enough about Elizabeth to be cautious and not say too much. “Or so I’ve heard people say.”

  “Love?” Elizabeth nearly spat on the ground. “He’s fallen in love a dozen times or more and then woken up to realize his mistake. If you’re looking for a man with money or property, you have chosen wrongly. He has nothing.”

  “Ebe,” Mia said. “Don’t judge me so harshly. You don’t know me.”

  “Do not call me by that name.” That pet name was used only by family.

  “I may not know you, but I know of your brother’s affection for you. He often speaks of how unfair it is that you are limited because you are female, and he wishes you could have the rights he has.”

  “He can wish all he wants,” Elizabeth said bitterly. “That will never come to be.”

  They walked along until they came to the cottage.

  “You live here?” Elizabeth said, shocked.

  “For the time being. Why? Do you know it?”

  “It’s a foul place, one filled with bad fortune. People say those roses grow in December, in the snow, in remembrance of all that never came to be. You shouldn’t stay here.” Elizabeth’s expression had changed, and she appeared to be filled with emotion. “You should go home, Mia, if you know what’s good for you.”

  Elizabeth revealed the story that not long ago, a woman named Lyddie had come to live here, not out of choice, but because her family had cast her out. She’d had a child and no husband, and she vowed she would manage to live on her own. She never said who the father of the child was, and he never helped her with her burden. Once or twice, Elizabeth had brought out jars of jam and tea. Nathaniel had known nothing of Lyddie’s existence.

  “Some things are best spoken about only among women,” Elizabeth said.

  The last time Elizabeth had come was after a snowstorm. She’d had a basket of blankets and food, but no one answered the door. There was eight feet of snow on the ground that winter, and the wind was bone chilling.

  “I think I knew before I opened the door,” Elizabeth went on. They were sitting outside in what was left of the garden Lyddie had planted. There was rosemary and parsley growing wild. That winter day, Elizabeth had found the woman and her baby frozen to death. She had left a note at the sheriff’s office and had never spoken of it to anyone, not even to Louisa, until now.

  “If you think you can do as you please you will surely suffer,” Elizabeth told Mia. “What you do for love will come back to haunt you.”

  “That story can change,” Mia said.

  “It’s not a story,” Elizabeth said. “It’s real life. Do you intend to marry my brother?”

  Mia knew that Nathaniel Hawthorne was fated to marry Sophia Peabody, and they would have three children; it was history and fate, and if Mia dared to change it, everything else might change, including the book that saved her life. “I’m only here for a brief time.”

  “And then I will have to deal with the aftermath should he fall apart, and I can guarantee he will. He’s a tender person.”

  “I knew that as soon as I read his novel.”

  “Fanshawe?” Elizabeth said with a worried look. Even her brother knew it was not the best work he was capable of. It was then that Elizabeth spied the book under the mattress. “What is that?” she said.

  “Nothing but a book.” Mia felt a fool not to have hidden the volume in a safer place. She, more than anyone, should know how to keep a book from sight.

  Elizabeth recognized some letters on the spine and took up the volume before Mia could stop her. She looked at the brown cover with its gold letters. “Nathaniel Hawthorne?” Elizabeth said, her voice breaking.

  Mia seized the book from her hands. “It’s my personal belonging.”

  “Is it?” Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t certain she believed a word that Mia said. “It has his name on it so it appears that it belongs to my brother.”

  Mia sat beside Nathaniel’s sister. She had little choice but to trust her. “It will be. When it’s published in 1850.”

  “Don’t tell me any more,” Elizabeth said, distraught. “If I’m going mad, I prefer not to know. Once a woman lands in an asylum she never gets out. I’d leap from a window anyway.”

  “You’re not mad, Elizabeth. I’m not from here.”

  “So you’ve been to 1850? Or do you just know what will come to be? Can you tell my fortune as well?” Elizabeth had never believed in witches; she assumed men had created such figures out of their twisted dreams and their fear of a woman’s innate power.

  “All I can say is that Nathaniel will write great novels, and this is one of them.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t show it to him,” Elizabeth warned. “It will influence him, and he’ll change things, he’ll rewrite and refigure. Whatever this is”—she nodded to the book—“it should be what he meant for it to be.”

  Mia swore she would not show him the book, but she herself didn’t know if that was the truth, for inside was the inscription he’d written to her, the one she had first seen when she was fifteen. It was there still, and she was grateful that Elizabeth had not opened the volume to see it.

  “Eventually he’ll find it unless you leave,” Elizabeth warned. “And if you do come from another place or time, you surely must know any life with my brother cannot come to be. A fish and a sparrow cannot live in the same world. One will gasp for air and the other will drown.”

  “So I go back and I lose him?”

  “Was he ever yours?”

  Mia walked with Elizabeth through the forest and was surprised when Nathaniel’s sister turned onto another path, one hidden by hedges. “There’s something I want to show you,” she said. “If you don’t come from here, you should understand what we go through in our time.”

  It was close, with trees looming on either side. They ducked beneath the greenery and followed the path that had been trod often enough that the grass was beaten down. There was a hill shaded by huge trees, and all around were plants on bushy stems that would soon bloom with yellow flowers.

  “My brother doesn’t know about this place. None of the men in town have heard of it, but every woman is well aware of its existence. Some call it the Hill of Death, others call it Salvation Point. This is where women come to bury their babies, the ones they can’t have for one reason or another, the ones that haven’t yet quickened, and the ones who have. The herb you see all around is rue; it’s dangerous but it’s worth the risk for many, for it causes contractions and miscarriage. Women you would least expect to come here find their way to the hill, those who are too young, who are unmarried, or who have been taken by force, those that have made a single mistake never speak of it again.”

  “Have you come here?” Mia asked.

  “Would I tell you if I had?”

  “I doubt you would think it safe to do so.”

  “Tell me women get to make their own choices someday.” They were both staring at the hill. Long ago this was where people came to bury the women who had been judged to be witches, and the women who came here now would be judged harshly as well, thrown out of society and left to fend for themselves. “Tell me there’s a time when we can choose our own fate.”

  Mia thought of how much courage it took to go against the rules. She thought it was likely that such a hillside could be found outside every city. She could not say it would always be different in her own time.

  “I suspect you can’t tell me so,” Elizabeth said.

  “I can tell you that we try.”

  “Then go back to the time where you can try and leave him here to do what he must.”

  “I want him to write what he’s meant to write. It matters to me in ways I can’t express.”

  “Good,” Elizabeth said, handing Mia a handkerchief but acting as if she didn’t notice Mia’s distress. “At least we can agree on that.”

  “He’ll surprise you,” Mia told her.

  “I don’t think so,” Elizabeth said. “He’s my brother. I expect a work of genius.”

  * * *

  NATHANIEL DIDN’T ARRIVE UNTIL just before dusk. He’d run most of the way, for he felt as if time was rushing by, a windstorm he couldn’t prevent. He was annoyed with his uncle for keeping him so long to go over the finances of the carriage business, in which he had no interest but which he was still dependent upon. Mia was waiting for him at the pond.

  “I can tell from the look on your face,” Nathaniel said. “My sister was difficult. It’s just her way and you’ll become accustomed to it. You’ll have no choice.” He laughed. “For she’ll never change.”

  “She wasn’t difficult,” Mia said.

  Nathaniel narrowed his eyes. “Truly? That doesn’t sound like Ebe. She’s known for being difficult. Are you certain it wasn’t Louisa who visited you?”

  “Elizabeth was here, and she was logical, that’s all.”

  Nathaniel shook his head, worried now. “Far worse if her logic affected you.”

  “You’ve affected me,” Mia said.

  This was the sixth day, and Mia would always think of what had happened between them as six days of love. She knew that had she stayed for the seventh day, she might never leave. Elizabeth was right. She didn’t belong here.

  “Let’s go swimming,” Nathaniel said.

  “Now? It’s almost dusk.”

  “That’s the best time,” Nathaniel said. “No one will see us.”

  All afternoon, Nathaniel had wasted his time talking about figures and fees and the coach business when he might have been here. Now he started to undress as if he couldn’t wait to be himself once more. Naked to the waist, he knelt before Mia and slipped off the boots she wore. A firefly flitted through his dark hair and Mia waved it away, then rested her hand on his head. She would think of that firefly as the spirit that burned within him. She would close her eyes and see it on summer nights when she was walking through the streets in Manhattan.

  “You first,” Nathaniel said. He was close and whispered in her ear.

  There was a last time for everything, and this was the time for them to be together. Mia stepped into the shallows and kept walking. For a fleeting moment, he thought she intended to drown herself, for it seemed she was so intent on going as far as she could. Nathaniel ran after Mia and seized her arm and held her to him.

  “I still think this may be a dream,” Mia said, leaning her face against his.

  “If it is, then a single dream is more powerful than a thousand realities.”

  There was no reason for her to swim away, so she stayed where she was, her arms around him. She was no longer that girl with black rocks in her pockets; she wasn’t invisible anymore. Right now, she had what she had always wanted, the man whose words had saved her, the story that let her know she could save herself.

  Mia pulled her dress over her head, then slipped off her undergarments. She knew the stars were easier to spy in this sky, for Salem was so dark at this hour, and the air was cleaner. Each star seemed a thousand times more brilliant than the ones she’d known. Nathaniel reached to unclasp Mia’s hair so that it fell down her back. It was so quiet it was as if they could hear the beating heart of the world. Crickets whirred and frogs called from the edge of the pond. It was the last time they would walk into the water, and the dark came falling down.

  They stayed in the deep water, wrapped up with one another, remaining in an embrace until they were shivering. At last, they left the pond so they might be together in the tall grass. There was a full moon, glowing a deep red color. Some people called it the Strawberry Moon, others used the name the Rose Moon; it was a night when in folklore women revealed their love for their men by tying a thread around a tree, but that was not what happened in this field, not on this night. On this night, they thought not of words, but of deeds.

  When they at last drew their clothes over their wet bodies, their hair was still soaking wet, their skin chilled. By now, it was fully dark.

  “Let me stay with you,” Nathaniel said.

  “Not tonight.” Mia sounded rushed, as if she had somewhere else to go.

  “The moon will not be like this for another year,” Nathaniel said, but still Mia could not be convinced to let him stay, even though the moon was bloodred, red as the roses that grew at the cottage.

  “It’s late,” she told him, and it was. The air was so much colder now, and she couldn’t stop shivering. She kissed him once, and then again, then finally pulled away to study him. She wanted to tell him everything, she wanted to thank him a thousand times, but instead she told him good night, and walked away through the tall grass. She left him as if this was not the last time, as if tomorrow would be waiting for them.

  Nathaniel breathed in the night air. He watched her, for she’d stopped on her way to the cabin and was standing in the field. The dark was falling, ashy and soft, lilac at the edges. There was something he had planned to say, but Nathaniel had forgotten to do so. Now he remembered, and he nearly ran after her, but he could no longer see her anymore. I would give you the moon if I could. I would give you anything you wanted.

  He didn’t know that he already had given her what she wanted most of all, the book that she wished upon, as if it were a star. The grass was black in the night, but Mia had always been able to see in the dark. That was one of the lessons she’d learned as a girl. She’d had the habit of running away, she’d done it all her life, and now she remembered how much it hurt to do so. She remembered that you could never look back, because if you did, you would understand just how much you were about to lose.

  CHAPTER SIX BROTHER SPARROW

  Nathaniel spent a day searching vainly for Mia, and when at last he stopped to rest, he slept all through the night. Now he awakened to find himself in a thicket of brambles just beyond Salem. The birds were rising into the trees in the early light, chattering with song, and he knew that she was gone. She had left the cabin as they’d found it, with his sister’s dresses folded on the bed, and the quilt his mother had sewn there beside the clothing. Now that it was daylight, Nathaniel clambered to his feet. He spied the green pond, and the bank where they’d stood, and he knew he’d lost her. With no other choice, he began to walk, disoriented but following some interior map. After a while, he found himself at his own house. He stood on the pathway, so distressed he was sweating through his clothes even though he was chilled to the bone. How could you possess sheer happiness one moment, and lose it the next? He wore his white shirt open and went barefoot. He was himself, and yet he was completely changed.

  Elizabeth was waiting for him on the porch. She’d told their mother and sister that he was off with his friend Franklin, though she knew he was likely with Mia. Now, she was stunned by his appearance when he came up the walk, for her brother was clearly devastated.

  “Did she tell you what she planned to do?” Nathaniel asked, desperate for some information.

  “Why would she tell me?” Elizabeth said, unable to meet his eyes. She knew what was best for him, but that didn’t mean he would be grateful.

  “She said you were logical,” Nathaniel said.

  “That’s exactly what I am. She’d have to be a fool not to know that after speaking with me for five minutes.”