With a swift jerk, Golda pulled Serah’s cloak free from the stool, leaving a tear in the fabric, and threw open the latch. “Get out!”
“No, wait—I also have this…” Before she could extend her hand to show off the moonstone ring, her mother had pushed her across the threshold.
Golda’s hand wrapped protectively around a swollen stomach.
Serah blinked. She’s round with child. How much time has passed here?
The door slammed in her face, leaving her staring at a doorplate etched with the letter K.
Serah wrapped her cloak more tightly around her and marched to the forest, in the direction of Machin’s cottage. “What will he say when I return?” she muttered. “Will he be disappointed?”
Have I ruined an opportunity?
She clenched her fists. It was a cruel trick. I didn’t belong to the place he sent me any more than I do here. Is happiness unattainable, something simply not meant for me? Her thoughts swam loudly in her head, to the point where she didn’t realize half of them had bubbled over and were spoken aloud.
“Who’s there?” murmured a sleepy voice.
Serah coughed.
A flickering of light brightened and burned blue.
“Graham! I’m sorry to wake you, but—” Her breath left her.
The boy’s features had squared off whatever roundness he’d had left. She looked up into his eyes. They were older, wiser, and he was taller than she’d remembered—a further reminder of passing time. Too much time.
“Serah? Is that really you? I thought you’d forgotten ’bout me.”
“No. I mean, yes but also no.” She sighed. “It is me, but I haven’t forgotten about you, Graham. How could I?”
He shrugged. “It’s been years since I’ve seen you. Machin’s cottage has been shut up and left to rot. No one goes in, no one comes out. I thought maybe you hadn’t kept your promise.”
“My promise?”
He nodded. “I went to visit you, to see how you were doin’, but a woman answered the door and said you were gone.”
“That must have been Gelsey, Machin’s housekeeper and cook. Is she well?”
“We didn’t get far with the niceties. When I introduced m’self, she let on like she didn’t know who I was. She didn’t recognize my name—though you said you’d put in a good word for me.”
Serah’s cheeks boiled with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“But you did mention me? You kept your promise?”
“I’m afraid I didn’t. Everything was new and interesting. I wanted to impress Machin so much that I must have forgotten.”
His eyes lowered to the ground.
“I’m sorry, Graham.”
“I understand.” He pulled a square paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “This must not have been meant for me.”
Serah frowned at the paper, which was more tattered than when she’d first read the message on it: This torch will light the way from your end of the forest to mine. I wish you the best, Machin.
“I will fix this,” she said.
“I ’preciate it, but it’s too late. Like I said, there’s no one there. The cottage is empty.”
Tears prickled Serah’s eyes. “Then I will make it up to you another way.” She tugged at her cloak ties and groaned, still unable to loosen the knot.
“I don’t want your cloak,” he said. “If you don’t feel you need it, you should take it to the pawnshop and trade it for coin.”
“The pawnshop?”
“There’s a new shopkeeper who deals in trinkets and the like. I suspect he takes clothing, too.”
Trinkets?
Serah’s gaze flew to her hand.
Purple and blue light shone through the milky white stone on her ring finger. She grinned. I wonder how much the shopkeeper would pay for this. Perhaps I could get enough coin for all of us—my parents, Graham, and me.
Chapter 17
Serah left Graham in the forest with a second promise—one she was determined to keep, no matter the cost.
The pawnshop was a bungalow set up across the bridge from her parents’ house. By the time she passed the house, dawn had already begun to break, and she noticed the wells she’d dug to collect groundwater had all dried up.
Serah’s thoughts returned to the swell of her mother’s stomach. She would have a new brother or sister soon. And she wasn’t sure whether that would be good or bad.
She shook her head to clear her thoughts, and opened the pawnshop door.
A bell rang, and a young man looked up from a book that lay open on a counter.
“May I help you?” His eyes were clear and blue, and fringed with golden lashes.
Serah’s heart sank momentarily, then sped up. “Grady?”
“Yes, I’m Mister Grady. Have we met? Miss…”
“Kettel. Serah Kettel.” She waited for him to recognize her, but his smile was nothing more than courteous. She twisted her fingers in the folds of her skirt. “I don’t believe we have met, now that I think of it. But you remind me of someone I knew, once. Grady is a more common name than I thought.”
“It seems so. I’m happy to meet you, Miss Kettel.”
Blushing, she nodded. “A friend told me you are interested in trinkets.” She slipped the moonstone ring from her finger and placed it on the counter. “How much coin is this worth?”
He pulled a chest from behind the counter and set it on top. After unlocking the chest, he removed a glass lens, which he pressed to his eye.
“This appears to be genuine moonstone, set in silver,” he said, studying the ring. “A fine piece. I could give you eight months’ wages for this.”
Serah’s shoulders rounded forward. “I was hoping for more. What if I include this cloak? It’s made of wool.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Kettel, but I’m unable to pay more than eight and one half months’ wages, for both items.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s all the coin I have to trade at the moment—until I can sell more of what I have now.”
She frowned. “I’ll keep the cloak. But I want eight and one half months’ wages for the ring.”
Mister Grady shot her a wry grin and dropped a larger, heavier chest on the counter. “We have a deal, Miss Kettel.”
Serah smiled as she watched him pile stacks of silver coin, keeping track of each one. When the jingle of money counting ended, he scratched at the book with a sharpened writing tool and closed his hand on the ring.
“There you are, eight and one half months’ wages.”
She shook her head. “That’s only enough for seven months and three quarters.”
“It seems someone has learned her figures,” he laughed. After scratching out what he had written, he stacked two more rows of coin, then resumed writing.
“Thank you,” said Serah. “Might I also have a written receipt as proof of our agreement?”
His eyes glowed with astonishment. “Yes, of course.”
He scribbled something on a smaller piece of paper and pressed it across the counter. He kept his eyes on her, intently focused, as she read the document aloud.
“This day, on the eleventh month of the year, Miss Serah Kettel has traded one moonstone ring, set in silver, for the price of eight and one half months’ wages, paid in coin by Mister Chaucer Grady.” The corners of her lips lifted into a smile. “This will do. Thank you.”
“Who are you, Miss Kettel?”
“I’m a farmer’s daughter—from here in Havenbrim.”
“And yet you’ve learned to read?”
Her shoulders stiffened. “My mother was born of a finer class and passed on the skill. I also apprenticed under a mechanic and glazier, Master Machin. I expect you’ve heard of him.”
Mister Grady tilted his head toward her. “Indeed I have. But I’ve never met one of his apprentices. From what I understand, none of them has ever returned to Havenbrim.”
“Yet, here I am.”
H
e creased a brow. “I see that. But what will you do now, Miss Kettel? Now that you’ve returned, I mean.”
Some part of Serah hoped she could return to Machin’s cottage, that her apprenticeship could be revived. But if what Graham had said was true, then there was nowhere to return to. The cottage was closed.
She lowered her eyes. “I must find work before the money runs out.” For now, this might be enough for my parents to let me stay with them—temporarily. But he’s right. Then what?
“I’m happy to hear it,” he said.
“Happy?”
“I could use a record keeper with your skills—someone to keep track of funds and inventory. That would allow me more time to go out and sell the pieces I collect. With more time, I could travel farther and bargain for higher prices.”
“That would seem a sensible solution.”
“You don’t have to decide right away. Take the coin home with you and think about it.”
“But what if you change your mind?”
“I need a partner, Miss Kettel. One for business—” A red tinge reached his cheeks. “And one for life.”
“Oh, I see.” She broke his gaze, unsure where to look. “I will think about it, and I will let you know what I decide.”
She turned to leave at the same time the door opened, and a bell rang.
“I have the next batch of globes you ordered, Chaucer,” trilled a familiar voice.
Serah froze as she came face to face with a woman holding a crate built from wooden planks.
“Gelsey,” she breathed.
The woman’s blue eyes widened. “Goodness.”
Mister Grady caught the crate before it dropped.
Gelsey wrapped her arms around Serah and squeezed before stepping back and looking her over.
“My, you’ve grown into a beautiful young woman! How have you been?”
Serah’s eyes watered. She wanted to tell Gelsey everything, but more than that she wanted answers to the questions blazing through her mind.
“What happened to the cottage?” she blurted. “My friend told me it had been abandoned.”
Gelsey raised her brows. “The structure above ground is under repair, but we’re still there.” She led with her chin. “And there are other ways in and out,” she whispered.
Serah understood immediately. They still have the tunnel and rooms underground. If there’s another exit, then it’s no wonder they’re not answering the door.
She threw her arms around Gelsey’s neck, and whispered in her ear. “I have a message for Machin. Could you tell him that my friend, Graham, has the torch Machin gifted him, and that he got his note? I promised I would put in a good word for Graham when I was an apprentice, but I forgot. I feel horrible.”
“Of course I’ll give him your message,” Gelsey replied, her voice low. “And you must promise to visit us.”
“I will!”
“And don’t worry about your friend. He’ll be an apprentice if that’s what’s meant to be. But only when Machin is ready, and the timing is right.”
A throat cleared loudly behind them. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’ve finished counting the globes. Everything is in order.”
“I’ll leave you two to your business,” said Serah, smiling.
She pictured Mister Grady taking the globes into fine houses to present them for sale, and noble ladies praising the workmanship of her master, Machin.
Beyond that, she couldn’t help seeing herself, standing at the counter of the pawnshop with her head bent over a book, scratching away at figures.
She wasn’t one hundred percent sure she’d made her decision to become part of Chaucer Grady’s life. But by the time the bell rang again and she closed the door behind her, she was at least ninety-nine and three quarters percent sure she’d found home.
Epilogue
Machin grinned as the light from a round bulb faded and dimmed. “Gelsey, come take a look at this.”
She clucked her tongue. “I’m beginning to understand what you do, but why all this?” She poked a duster at him, the feathers of which smoked at the tips as they came dangerously close to touching the globe.
She pulled back and drew in a breath.
The light in the bulb dimmed and faded. When it was about to snuff out, the glint changed color—from white to gold. It sparked brighter, forming a flame that spread until the globe filled with a starburst of sparkling beams.
Machin snapped his palms together and wheezed a laugh.
“This method helps me keep track of those who move on.” Gently, he removed the lantern from its place and hung it from a separate beam that held no others. His face shined beneath its golden light. “And, now, those who return.”
Each of the lanterns flickered and faded, pulsing together in a concert of light. Machin adjusted his goggles and twitched his head toward the door.
“Gelsey, ready the fire. I’m expecting someone to show for an interview.”
“But how—”
“It’s time. Go on.”
Two strong knocks sounded through the door, followed by a cheerful voice.
“Hello? Is this where I meet for the ’prenticeship?”
Prologue
A boy glared at a sign. He squeezed his eyes, willing the marks painted on the plank to make sense. But they were no more than lines and squiggles to his untrained eyes.
He balled his left hand into a fist. A lazy wind scratched through tufts of rust-tinged hair that dangled in waves past his neck.
“Thought I’d reco’nize some of the letterin’ from last time.”
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he scanned the grounds. Everyone who’d gathered in this spot earlier in the day was gone. Children his age up through men and women who’d started families of their own had wandered home, with their heads held low. Most could read no better than he could, which wasn’t well at all.
At the bottom of the sign, in strokes painted taller and wider, was a grouping of letters set apart from the rest.
“That part must be important,” he muttered. “Wonder if that’s the name of the master who’s looking for the new ’prentice.”
He studied the lines and curves, memorizing them. A sign like this hadn’t appeared on this side of Havenbrim in many years. He was so small the last time, his father had held him up to see it. His father hadn’t been able to read it, either. But everyone knew what it meant.
The lamp maker at the other side of Havenbrim, beyond the forest, was ready to take in another apprentice.
The boy pressed his lips together and focused. This time he didn’t want to forget. He focused on the word at the bottom and burned it into his memory:
Machin.
“Graham, how could you?” A girl wiped water from her skirts and fished a stone out of the basket of water she’d been carrying.
“I meant no harm! Was only tryin’ to catch your attention.” Still, he grinned widely, the sun shining through rust-colored hair and reflecting off his brown eyes.
“You have my attention, now what do you want?”
“Have you seen it yet, Serah?”
“Seen what?”
“The sign. In the middle of the village, nailed to the elder tree.”
Her red cheeks faded to the color of tallow. “How did I miss it?”
“You must’a been working awful hard not to notice.”
Serah’s face pinched together tightly. She gathered her skirts and strode off.
“Wait!” Graham struggled to catch up.
Though the girl was smaller than he was, his gangly legs had sprouted without thickening, making it difficult to compete with her focused pace.
He found her staring at the sign on the tree. Then he laughed at how she squinted her tiny, round eyes. “If you’d keep them open, you’d see better,” he said.
She shot him a dark look. “Do you want me to read it to you or not?”
“If you please.” He grinned.
Serah clasped her hands behind her back. A
fter sighing through an exaggerated stretch, she placed a finger on the first word and raised her voice to a level of importance.
“The writing says: Position now open. Apply in person at the cottage across the forest.” Her finger slid along the sign as she moved on to each word. “One apprentice will be chosen to assist the master with his work. I wish you the best—”
When her finger rested on the larger markings below, Graham caught his breath.
“Machin.”
He smiled.
“Just because he posted the sign, doesn’t mean there will be an acceptable reply,” Serah said. “I haven’t heard anyone actually say they were Machin’s apprentice. I only know everyone wants the position.”
“Wonder if he truly exists?”
Serah smoothed back damp chestnut locks that had escaped from her plaits. “Of course he does, and I intend to prove it.”
Graham felt a heaviness in his stomach that sucked the joy out of him. “Are you plannin’ to apply?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“N-no reason,” he said, taking a step backward. The heaviness crawled upward into his chest. “You’re the best candidate—someone who can read and write.”
Serah’s chest puffed out at the compliment. Her lips stretched into a grin.
Chapter 1
Evelyn
Waves rippled across Lake Erie. With each break and splash to the shoreline, Evelyn pictured the water washing away old memories, creating a clean slate that stretched wider and farther than the depths of the ocean.
When she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend the lake was the ocean, the one she’d left behind when she was taken away from the shores of New Jersey. She sniffed the air and wrinkled her nose. There was something missing. Salt.
Evelyn heard footsteps before she felt a gentle nudge. Keeping her eyelids pressed shut, she resisted the urge to look behind her, knowing it was probably her sister, Joyce. No one else would know to find her here.
“You can’t sit staring at the lake all day, Evie.”
Her eyelids fluttered open. “Yes I can.”
L01-03. Lantern Page 14