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announced he believed the baby was just fine, though I should try to eat more to sustain myself.
    â€œAnd if you have these pains, you should probably avoid lifting.”
    I almost laughed out loud, instead whispering, “I’ll try.” Lifting was most of my work in Mr. Penny’s employ. But I didn’t want to burden the kind doctor with my sad story. He left again to allow me to dress.
    â€œThank you.” I walked through to where he shuffled papers on his desk. “It’s good to know everything is all right.”
    â€œYes, well.” He stared at his desk, absently tapping a pencil. “You know, you’d be a big help here, what with your experience.” He looked at me then, compassion in his eyes. “But I really can’t afford it. The damn medicine show taking people’s money and luring them to their deaths. And...you’re a woman. A pregnant woman.” His face turned pink, his eyes averted. “I don’t know if my wife would approve.”
    â€œThank you, doctor.” I wasn’t at all sure it was his wife’s approval that mattered. Perhaps he was just like my father’s colleagues. The silence stretched awkwardly. I glanced up and his eyes met mine. “I do understand.”
    The grocer’s name stencilled onto the middle panel of the sign might have given the impression he was a leader of men. But a military man would have wiped the dust and stain from the glass windows and replaced the rotting wood of the door frame. A bell jangled when I opened the door and heads turned briefly. A huge black stove drew my eye, its pipes stretched like arms, one straight up, the other sideways to the wall before tracking up and through the roof. I wandered by flour barrels, cases of canned goods and mysterious wooden crates; followed the small pathways snaking between floor-to-ceiling shelves laden with everything from blankets to fabric, shiny new kettles to fancy china.
    Two men sat on stools at the counter, sipping coffee and chatting with the man on the other side, General Mercer himself. Three or four women bustled around the store selecting items from piles or shelves.
    â€œWhy hello, Mrs. Berkowski. Those twins keeping you busy as usual?” The grocer’s voice was loud.
    She barely nodded and went about her business, but not before eyeing me with a shrewd glance. Perhaps her husband had been sincere. Whatever she’d heard about me kept her at a distance. I was new, alone and unwed, working for a man with a reputation for drink and women. I caught her looking again, judging me with my mother’s eyes. I walked home to Mr. Penny’s house, where I could hang my head, like she expected me to.

CHAPTER 5
    i i i
    DILLAN
    I tried to save my wife from all the bad things that can happen. It hadn’t gone very well so far. And then the stranger stomped in like he owned the place. I jumped up to shield Taffy from him, but he looked past like I weren’t even there, to her lyin’ curled up on a filthy mattress on the floor in a dark corner. He had nasty eyes, and sighed as though I was a disgusting bit of fish bait he’d like to see wriggling on a hook.
    â€œIt’s Gibson,” said the man, pushing past and shedding his coat and hat onto the only chair in the room. “Doctor Gibson. You’re damn lucky your neighbours have some sense.”
    It was the burly woman next door was always asking after Taffy. Protestant. Meddling. She must have sent for him. The doctor’s shirt was plastered to his back where rain had soaked through, and he shivered hard. Out the window a nor’easter was blowing. Hadn’t even seen it coming. Too busy with Taffy I guess, sponging her forehead, singing softly, praying.
    Gibson lit a tallow and set it on the crate beside Taffy, feeling her face, looking into her eyes with a light. “Not long for the world, I’m afraid.” His voice wasn’t mad any more. More