Never Look Back. Robert Ross

to be without any family—but there’s just something about her, something that’s not quite right. Why would such a pretty young woman marry a man Father’s age? Surely there were many suitors for her—so why Father? I know it is terribly un-Christian of me to think this, but I cannot help myself. She must have married Father for his money and fame, that can be the only explanation for such a misalliance.

      She says she worked for the suffragette cause, which also struck me as quite odd. She actually spent time in prison—and is proud of such a shameful thing! And Father just sat there, listening, smiling, and nodding his head. I cannot imagine Father marrying such a woman. How many times have I heard him rail about the suffragettes? “Women unsexing themselves, forgetting their God-given command to be subservient to men.” That’s what he always believed. How has such a silly filly turned his head?

      None of this makes any sense. Has she somehow bewitched him? Father listened to her with a smile on his face, nodding his head as she talked about women’s rights. He MUST be bewitched. I remember how angry he was when I suggested going to college—and he told me in no uncertain terms how I was to be obedient to his wishes, and there would be none of that for me. “A woman’s duty is to get married and have children and keep house for her husband, my Lettie.” Those are the very words he used…but now he has married this child, this girl, and his mind has changed?

      After dinner, they retired to their bedchamber and Mrs. Windham also retired. I snuck out and met S. If Father knew…but he must never find out. He would kill me if he knew. No, he would kill us both.

      It’s late and I must get some rest. Lord, give me the strength to deal with this.

      Karen closed the book, her mind racing.

      S? Who was S?

      A boy, of course. Who else would a teenaged girl sneak out of the house to meet after everyone else had gone to bed?

      She stared out the window at the crashing sea. The words rang in her head.

      But I know in my heart of hearts it is my fault—I should have simply kept my mouth shut and borne my burden alone rather than trying to get sympathy from the small-minded.

      “What was your burden, Lettie?” she said aloud. It had something to do with her mother’s death.

      Once again Karen felt a chill when she realized she had arrived at this house on the very day Sarah Jane had arrived here in 1922. The parallels in their stories were just too eerie. Both of us were married to older men with stepdaughters the same age. And we live in the same house. And our predecessors—

      Did Ellen Hatch commit suicide too? Just like Ivy Kaye?

      Maybe that was the burden Lettie carried—the same burden Jessie was now carrying.

      Karen shivered. That’s just your imagination working overtime again, Karen. Get a grip. Tomorrow, you just march your butt down to the Provincetown Town Hall and see what you can find out about Ellen Hatch’s death.

      For now, she had some reading to do.

      Oprah’s Book Club—here I come!