Chapter 12: May’s Uncertainty

May is a cruel month. At night, you don’t go out unless you have to.

The air gets thick and restless, thunderstorms rolling in without warning. People say May is when the ghosts walk, but really, it’s just the memories that won’t let go.

I closed the door early, coaxed Pearl to sleep, opened the chest, and counted the cash and coins I’d saved once more.

Each bill was soft and worn from use, each coin heavy with hope. I counted three times, wishing it was enough.

If the Westfields were released and Mr. Westfield could go back to work, that would be best. If not—where would they live? What would they eat? Could the two sons still study? What would become of the oldest?

The questions spun around in my mind, keeping me up long after Pearl had started snoring softly.

I dared not think further. I couldn’t afford to buy a house, only rent a bigger one. But even the money I had wasn’t enough for rent. I had to think of another business. With only the boat income, who knew how many years it would take to support the two boys’ studies.

I doodled plans on scrap paper—laundry service, sewing repairs, maybe even a stall at the Saturday market. Anything to keep us all going.

I held my head and fell asleep at the table. When I woke with a start, I didn’t know when he’d arrived—just sitting across from me.

The lamp flickered, casting shadows over his face. He sat there in the half-dark, eyes steady on mine. Whatever he’d come to say, I knew my life was about to change—for better or worse.