Chapter 12: What Lydia Knew

Cade left before dawn, with Rhys's arm under his good shoulder.

He did not look back at the cottage.

I stood at the window and watched him go down the road, and my hip still carried the print of his hand.

I told myself it was a bruise.

I spent the day on the couch with my feet up and Hattie's casseroles in my lap.

Rain came in at dusk and hammered the roof.

At nine, someone knocked.

It was a thin, uneven knock, a hand and a crutch.

Hattie looked at me.

She took the poker from the fireplace and opened the door.

Lydia stood on the porch alone.

Her hair hung wet and flat, her cast was black with mud, and her face was white as paper.

She had no Godfrey, and no elders, and nobody behind her on the path.

"Please," she said.

"Get off my porch," Hattie said.

"Please. I need to speak to Carys. I'll say it in front of you. I'll say it in front of anyone you like."

"Let her in," I said.

Hattie gave me a look, and then she stepped back.

Lydia hobbled across the room and dropped into the armchair.

She was shaking so badly that the chair rattled.

"I didn't know," she said.

"Know what?"

"The Law." Her voice cracked. "The back page. About the signer. Carys, I didn't know it would kill him."

Nobody spoke.

"I swear on my mother," she said. "Grandpa told me the pool would drown you.