Prologue

Watertown, Massachusetts

1870

Wildflowers. Sweet and heavy.

The air after the rain, fresh and full of promise.

The pressed dirt path Lucy had walked countless times, firm but forgiving beneath her feet.

She knew every bend. Even without her sight, she could have run along this path as fast as her feet would carry her, and she would never have feared stumbling or colliding with anything.

The grounds of the Perkins School for the Blind were as familiar to Lucy Stone as the contours of her own body. There were no surprises here, nothing to catch her off guard.

She didn’t need the cane in her hand. Not on this path. Walking with it was a safeguard, in case something unexpected happened, in case someone else was on the path, or in case—as her instructors always reminded her—something had changed since the last time she had been here. It was always possible, but it didn’t concern Lucy. Not here. She walked this path every single morning, and nothing was ever different.

She knew where her favorite rock would be before she reached it. Holding out a hand to touch the warm surface was habit, not necessity. It was still damp. The recent rainfall hadn’t yet dried here, but Lucy didn’t mind. She sat on the rock and tilted her face toward the sun.

At least this will be the same no matter where I go. At least I’ll always be able to feel the same warm sun on my face.

She hoped that was true. It must be true. And yet…

The Perkins School had been the only real home Lucy had known since losing her sight. She had been sixteen years old when the fever had left her blind, and it was mere months later that she arrived at the school. Lucy had cried that day and clung to Ma and her sister, Nora. She hadn’t wanted to go. The world had been so newly dark, a horrible and threatening place, and to say goodbye to the only things she knew had been devastating.

But the Perkins School had quickly become a sanctuary and more than that, a place of true joy. She had believed she’d never be truly happy again when she had awoken unable to see on that dreadful morning. Here, though, she had learned to find strength and capability. She had learned the confidence to navigate the world around her with the senses she still had at her disposal.

Of course, there had been more losses…

But Lucy wouldn’t think about those. Not now. She knew all too well the way her mind would latch onto that grief, the way she would sink into despair if she allowed it to happen. And today was difficult enough without that.

Instead, she focused on the sun that graced her cheeks.

God, be with me today.

Without the benefit of sight, her relationship with God had changed somewhat. Or perhaps it was simply that she had grown up in the years since she had lost the ability to see. All she knew for sure was that God seemed closer now. In the past, when she had prayed, it had felt as though she were talking to someone very distant, someone who was listening from miles away. But now, God seemed to respond to her words with the very warmth of the sun, a promise that He had heard her prayer and that He would indeed be at her side. The sun’s rays were His touch against her cheek

Perhaps that was always true, and it took losing my sight to truly understand it. Perhaps that’s why we close our eyes when we pray—because it allows God to come closer.

“Lucy?”

She sat upright at the familiar voice, turning her head in the direction it had come from. “Good morning, Pippa.”

She heard her friend’s light footsteps against the dirt path and breathed in the aroma of lavender as Pippa Bennett drew near. A moment later, there was a warmth beside her on the rock, a narrow shoulder pressing into hers.

“I thought I might find you out here,” Pippa said, resting her fingertips briefly on top of the back of Lucy’s hand.

Lucy smiled at the gesture. The sighted members of the staff at the Perkins Institute—the instructors and the housemaids, like Pippa—were taught to use touch to show the residents where they were. It was a kindness, a way of ensuring that Lucy wouldn’t be taken by surprise to realize that Pippa was beside her. Pippa could have no way of knowing how clearly her presence announced itself. She couldn’t have known that Lucy had known exactly where she was from the moment she had sat down.

Those who had never been blind would never understand how rich the world truly was, how much information could be perceived if one went looking for it. Lucy knew that the staff of the Perkins School understood that better than most, and Pippa was her dearest friend in the world. But even so, there were some things you couldn’t know until you lived them.

She turned her face toward her friend and smiled. “You always know where to find me,” she said.

“Well, you don’t make it that difficult.” Pippa laughed, her voice like wind chimes in the spring air. “You always come walking out here first thing in the morning, rain or shine. I didn’t see why today would be any different. Of course, they’re going wild looking for you back at the estate. No one knows where you disappeared to. They thought you’d be down in the front hall with your bags packed, ready to depart.”

Lucy sighed. “I probably should be, shouldn’t I?” She hung her head. “It’s hard to say goodbye.”

“Of course it is.” Pippa’s voice turned tender, and her hand came to rest on Lucy’s shoulder—not a signal of her location this time but an offer of comfort. Lucy leaned into it gratefully.

Pippa went on. “This place has been your home. And more than that, it’s the place that taught you how to live after you lost your sight. I’ve seen many people leave when their time here was done, and it’s never easy for any of them. Everyone struggles with this. Everyone wonders what it’s going to be like out in the world. It’s never easy.”

“When I came here, it was like I was drowning,” Lucy recalled. “I was in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by things that could hurt me. I was afraid to move in case I found myself in danger.”

“When you’re used to relying on something—like your sight—and then that thing is taken away, of course you would feel adrift,” Pippa said gently, resting a hand between Lucy’s shoulders.

“But while I was here, I became a sailor,” Lucy said. “I learned the skills I needed to navigate the seas. To make myself the master of the world around me, instead of a hapless victim.”

“And you’ve done very well,” Pippa said. “You know we all think you’re ready.”

“Yes, but now I’m leaving my safe harbor,” Lucy said. “It was hard enough learning to navigate this place, but now that I have—now that I know it so well—I have no fear when I move around. Going out into the world… In a way, it’ll be like losing my sight all over again. It’s like you said. I’ve relied on something—in this case, my familiarity with this place—and now it’s being taken away.”

“That’s true,” Pippa agreed. “But you have the skills you need to manage whatever comes next. And don’t forget, you’ll still have me by your side.”

Lucy smiled. “I know,” she said, taking her friend’s hand. “You’re so kind to give me a place to stay now that I’m leaving the school. But I don’t want to take advantage of that kindness. I’ll move on as quickly as I’m able to.”

“I don’t want you to rush,” Pippa said firmly. She squeezed Lucy’s hand. “This is a big transition for you, and you’ll have to handle it in the way that’s right for you and in your own time. You are welcome in my home, do you hear me? For as long as you need a place to stay.”

“You’re truly a remarkable friend, Pippa.” Lucy got to her feet. “I suppose we should go inside. If everyone really is looking for me, I’d hate to be the cause of a commotion.”

“You’d hate to miss out on the sugar cookies Mrs. Henderson baked for your departure,” Pippa countered with a chuckle. She took Lucy’s arm. Although Lucy didn’t need a guide along this path, she allowed Pippa to lead her. It was comforting to have her friend close to her on a day that was so filled with uncertainty.

And it was kind of Pippa to give her a place to stay. That wasn’t something most of the students at the Perkins School had to worry about when they turned twenty. Most had something to go back to.

No. Don’t think about that. Not today.

The humidity of the recent rainfall gave way to the cool, dry air of the institute’s front hall. The sound of songbirds and the wind faded and were replaced by footsteps against the wooden floors and the chatter of students’ voices as they made their way to breakfast. Lucy took a long, slow breath in, memorizing those sounds. This would, in all likelihood, be her last morning here at the Perkins School, and she would miss it.

“Oh, Lucy, there you are!” The harried voice belonged to Mrs. Mason, the Headmistress. “I hope you realize that we’ve been looking absolutely everywhere for you.”

“Now, Mrs. Mason, you know we haven’t been looking everywhere,” Pippa said fondly. “Lucy was exactly where she always is at this time of day.”

“Oh, I can’t keep track of where everyone is,” Mrs. Mason said, exasperation biting through her tone. “Have you seen Timmy Jackson, by the way? I just can’t begin to guess where he might be, and he never came to breakfast—”

“Timmy likes to hide in the classrooms in the morning and spend some time with the Braille readers,” Lucy said. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve found him there on my way to breakfast.”

“Well, why on earth does he do that?” Mrs. Mason asked, huffing in frustration. “He’s going to be in the classroom for hours once breakfast is finished. Surely, he can stand to wait to begin his studying.”

“He feels he’s behind his classmates in his reading ability,” Lucy explained. “He’s trying to catch up, but he doesn’t want to do that in front of the others.”

“Oh, Lucy.” Fondness seeped through Mrs. Mason’s tone, and she rested a hand on Lucy’s arm. “We certainly are going to miss you around here. No one understands the little ones quite as well as you do. I wish we could keep you on as an instructor, but you know we just don’t have the money to hire anyone right now.”

“I know.” Lucy smiled. “I understand.” The truth was, she’d have liked more than anything to stay and teach—to remain in these familiar surroundings instead of going out into the world and trying to do something new. But at the same time, she knew that she needed to be courageous. If she didn’t leave now, it would only be harder to leave later. “Perhaps I can return someday, in the future.”

“I would like that,” Mrs. Mason said warmly. “I think we all would.”

“Is she still here?” It was Mrs. Henderson, the cook, her voice huskier than Mrs. Mason’s and her footfalls heavier than Pippa’s. She hurried forward, and Lucy smelled the clinging scents of ham and porridge. “Oh, Lucy, thank goodness I caught you before you left. I wanted to give you these cookies.” She pressed a bundle wrapped in soft cotton into Lucy’s hands.

“You don’t need to be frantic about it, Mrs. Henderson,” Pippa teased. “She’s only going as far as my home. If you had missed her, I could have brought the cookies to her.”

“Oh, but I did want to see her one more time,” Mrs. Henderson said. “The number of times I caught this one sneaking into my kitchen after hours for a cup of cocoa… But she always had one of the younger students with her, of course, so you couldn’t help but indulge them. They’re all going to miss her even more than we will, I think!”

“They were able to say their farewells at the party last night,” Mrs. Mason said. Her voice was firm but not unkind. “You understand that we don’t want to prolong things, I’m sure, Lucy?”

“Of course,” Lucy said. “I agree. It’s difficult to say goodbye, and I don’t want to put them through it over and over.” She’d miss her fellow students, but she didn’t want to go through the ordeal of saying goodbye again either. Once had been difficult enough.

“Your things have been loaded,” Pippa said, squeezing Lucy’s arm gently. “I think it’s time for us to depart.”

Mrs. Henderson swept Lucy into a soft, warm hug. With the exception of Pippa and the little children, she was the only person in Lucy’s life who hugged her. Lucy leaned into the embrace, relishing the comfort of Mrs. Henderson’s arms, the way her hand rubbed up and down Lucy’s spine as if to reassure her. It was so like the way Lucy’s own mother had hugged her, once upon a time, and if Lucy were honest, the image of Mrs. Henderson that she carried around in her mind was one that matched her mother’s chestnut-colored hair and blue eyes—so like Lucy’s own. She had never asked anyone to describe Mrs. Henderson’s true appearance. She didn’t want to know if she was wrong.

The hug ended, and Pippa took Lucy’s arm again and led her outside. Lucy clung to her friend for the first time as they left the grounds of the school and made their way out onto the street. She held her cane more tightly than she needed to, tapping it carefully against the sides of the walkway to make sure there were no obstacles in front of her.

“Here’s the carriage,” Pippa said gently. “The step is right in front of you. You’ll find it if you put your cane out.”

Lucy did so and felt the step. She eased herself up and into the carriage, relaxing only when she felt Pippa’s familiar presence settle in beside her and the reassuring tap on the back of her hand.

The carriage began to move, and though Lucy couldn’t see, she found herself turning toward the window to bid farewell to the only home she knew.

Chapter One

Two Months Later

“Papa!”

Cries of joy rang through the house, as they did every night when Jacob Bennett arrived home from his work. Pippa’s husband was a carpenter, and he carried a delightful aroma of sawdust into the house with him. Lucy, who sat in a rocking chair in the corner of the kitchen, carefully sewing a button onto one of the children’s shirts, smiled at his arrival.

“Mary!” Jacob enthused. “Claire! And Henry!” There were muffled sounds as he embraced each of his children in turn. “I certainly hope you were all good today and that you helped Mama and Miss Lucy as much as you could.”

“We were good,” seven-year-old Mary assured him solemnly. “We helped Mama make chicken sandwiches for dinner, and I read a story to Miss Lucy.”

Lucy felt the vibrations of the floor as Jacob crossed in front of her. She was familiar enough with his routine to know that the pause in action meant he was hugging his wife. “How are you, darling?”

“Oh, never better,” Pippa said cheerfully.

As she always did lately, Lucy found herself gauging the energy in her friend’s voice. It was mere weeks since Pippa had told them all she was expecting a baby, and she insisted she hadn’t noticed any difference in the way she felt, but even so, Lucy worried.

She was a burden to Pippa and her family, even though they insisted otherwise. She knew it was true. They had three little mouths to feed already, and now a fourth was on the way. This was a time they should be focusing on the needs of their family, not on her.

Pippa had assured her many times that she could stay here as long as she needed to. Lucy knew that her friend meant it. At the same time, she refused to take advantage of Pippa and Jacob’s kindness. It was time to think about moving on.

If only I knew where I was going to go.

What it came down to was very simple—she was going to have to find work. She needed a way to support herself.

If only there were work for her at the school. But there was nothing. Even Pippa had lost her position there, though she didn’t mind so much now that she had a baby on the way. It meant Jacob was going to have to work extra hard to make ends meet, but that was all right. They could manage.

It would be different for Lucy. She had no one to take care of her. She didn’t mind a bit of hard work, but what could she do?

She ran her fingers over the small wooden button she had been working on and let out a sigh. The threads were knotted. She had no skill as a seamstress. Pippa’s family was always gracious about her contributions, but her sense of touch was enough to tell her that she hadn’t done this very well. There was no hope of anyone paying her for it.

“I’m going to wash up before dinner,” Jacob announced to the room at large. His heavy steps moved toward the door. “Hey, thanks for fixing that button, Lucy. I can’t wait to show you the chair I’m working on. You’re going to like it.”

“I’m sure I will.” Lucy smiled at him, but her thoughts were far away.

As he left the room, the children scampering off after him, she heard the soft sound of a newspaper landing on the table and knew he had tossed it there, as he often did in the evening.

“What’s in the paper?” she asked Pippa, dancing around the question she really wanted an answer to. If she asked it outright, Pippa wouldn’t answer—she would veer into reassuring Lucy instead, and that wasn’t what Lucy wanted today.

“Nothing special,” Pippa said. She picked it up and rifled through it, the pages crackling as she turned them. “A new shop opening on Main Street. A piece about the mayor. The usual job postings.”

There it was.

“What kind of jobs?” she asked, doing her best to sound as though she was just making chit-chat and wasn’t interested for any particular reason.

“Factory positions, mostly,” Pippa said, flipping the page.

That wouldn’t do at all. Lucy didn’t like to think that there was anything she was incapable of, but she was also realistic. She couldn’t work in a factory. It would be far too dangerous to be around all those machines without being able to see. Even the senses she could rely upon, like her hearing, would be confounded by the chaos. It would be both unsafe and unhelpful.

She had to keep the conversation light. “I couldn’t imagine working in a factory,” she said, giving an intentional shudder.

“Oh, neither could I!” Pippa said. “Thank goodness we’ll never have to. Now, this is a little better. Apprentice to a florist! I could get used to doing something like that. It would be fun, don’t you think? Picking out all the different flowers?”

“I think so,” Lucy agreed. “Although I’m not sure I could do it.”

She could do it, actually. It was easy to detect the aromas of different blooms and put them together in complementary ways. The trouble was that it had been a long time since she had seen the colors. It would be easy to make mistakes in terms of what looked good together.

She could still learn it, she thought. She could still become good at it. But it would take a lot of work and a lot of accommodation, and the florist who was looking for an apprentice would probably choose someone a little easier.

That’s my problem. Anyone would choose someone easier.

She set the shirt she was working on aside and rose to her feet. “Can I set the table for you, Pippa?”

“Of course,” Pippa said easily. “Thank you. You know where everything is.”

Lucy didn’t need her cane to help her move around Pippa’s kitchen. The two months she had spent here had been enough to help her get familiar, and that had increased her confidence significantly. This was a new place, but she had learned it well—although the family did help her by ensuring that nothing strayed too far from the place it belonged.

When she went to the cabinet over the sink, she knew that a stack of plates would be right where they always were. She took down six of them, pivoted, and took two steps forward, putting out a hand to brush the edge of the table and reorient herself. It was right where she had known it would be, of course. The smooth-sanded wood felt almost like stone under her fingertips. Jacob’s carpentry was unparalleled.

Pippa was giggling. “This doesn’t belong in the job postings!”

“What doesn’t?” Lucy set a plate in front of one of the chairs.

“There’s an ad for a mail-order bride,” Pippa explained. “‘Rancher, age 28, seeks good-hearted Christian bride. Silverpine, Colorado.’ And there’s an address to send a response.” She chuckled again. “They can’t be having much luck if they’re advertising here, though. I wonder why he wasn’t able to find someone a little closer to home.”

“I don’t know,” Lucy murmured. “There could be a lot of reasons for something like that.”

A mail-order bride?

The idea was a strange one, to be sure. Leaving behind everything and everyone she knew, traveling to an unfamiliar place to start a new life with an unknown person.

And yet, it wouldn’t be the first time I tried something like that. It was the right choice for me in the past. Maybe it would be the right choice again.

She shook her head. She was getting carried away. It was easy to imagine the idea of running off to Colorado and becoming a rancher’s wife. That would solve all her problems. She would have a place to live, a place where she could feel confident that she was contributing in all the ways she was supposed to. That was appealing.

And there was also a sense of romance about it. Whoever this man was, he could have hired a maid, but he had asked for a wife. Surely that meant he wanted something personal.

Would he want me?

That was a more complex question. Lucy was fairly certain that she was pretty enough. She knew the shape of her body and the smooth, thick texture of her hair. She knew, too, the beauty her mother had possessed. Lucy had been the image of her mother, and the similarities had only grown as she had gotten older. Rich, chestnut hair. Cornflower blue eyes. Her eyes were still pretty even now. She had asked Pippa once, and Pippa had been honest with her—there was no cloudiness there. They were unfocused, of course, but that was all right.

A man could admire me. That isn’t unthinkable.

She rested her hands in the folds of her cotton skirts for a moment, thinking about it.

She had found a home at the Perkins School. She knew she was loved here at Pippa’s home. But in both places, she had been seen as a blind woman. It was what she was, of course, but except for Pippa, nobody looked at Lucy and simply saw Lucy. The woman. The person. Even Jacob, who was kind to her and had taken the time to get to know her, still thought of her as Pippa’s blind friend, not simply Pippa’s friend. Lucy could tell by the way he spoke loudly when addressing her, by the way he hesitated when handing her things. He was always careful. Always mindful.

If she were to go to Colorado and begin this new life, everything would be different. Yes, she’d be seen that way at first, but eventually this man may come to know her for who she really was and to see that before he saw her blindness.

He would have to, wouldn’t he? I would be his primary companion, after all. Eventually, we would be even closer than Pippa and I are now.

She smiled to think of it.

Returning to her task, she positioned the plates the rest of the way around the table. There was laughter, chattering, and quick, light footsteps as the children returned to the room. Small arms wrap around her from behind, distracting her from her fantasies of a life far away in Colorado.

“Mary, you silly goose.” Lucy laughed.

“Can I help you set the table?” Mary asked.

“You can do the silverware,” Lucy said. “We only need spoons, I think, since we’re having sandwiches and broth.”

Mary squeezed her again and then released her, and Lucy heard the rattle of the spoons being collected. She let out a sigh. It would be difficult to let go of this place. She was happy here.

But it was time.