Prologue

Brenham, Texas

1871

It was a memory that came so suddenly to Katherine, of a warm, summer day spent along the porch, half of it taken up by a wooden dollhouse lovingly carved out from Wilkes family members long-since passed. The scent of florals and shaved wood filled the air as Papa carefully carved out the face of another small doll to add to the family, nodding in approval before passing it to Mama, who was sewing furiously at her rocker. She eyed the newest creation, quickly calculating the length of material needed before setting to work immediately.

“Okay, so, she’s gonna be the Mama,” A baby-faced Katherine stated matter-of-factly, hazel eyes glimmering with anticipation. “And she’s gonna have the baby, once she’s all dressed.

“I thought this one was the Mama, though?” Another voice asked from behind the dollhouse.

Kathrine’s freckled face soured, twin pigtails dyed bright orange, whipping about as she furiously shook her head. She rounded the dollhouse quickly, glaring daggers at a similarly ginger-haired girl holding another wood-carved doll dressed in a crisp, white uniform. “Noo, Mary! That’s the lady who helps with the baby. The, uh…?”

“Midwife,” Mary offered, looking rather nonplussed at her little sister.

“Yeah, that.” Katherine nodded, looking quite pleased. “She doesn’t have the baby, she just helps, Mary.”

“Watch your tone, Katie-love,” Her Papa warned gently, gently shifting the carving knife between his thumb. “That’s no way to talk to your sister.”

“Besides,” Her Mama crooned, stitching the last hem before slipping the newly-sewn gown over the doll. “There’s nothing that says the dolly cannot be both.”

Katherine blinked, as if she’d never considered such a thing before. “She can be both?”

“‘Obviously, Katherine,” Mary teased, blue eyes twinkling mischievously. “I’m gonna be a Mama myself one day, too. So, I’ll be your sister and a mama at the same time.”

Katherine’s eyes widened even further. “Then, can I be your sister and midwife when it happens, Mary?”

Her older sister chuckled warmly, clutching her own doll close to her chest. “Of course! The best sister-midwife in the whole world.”

It had been such a lovely memory, a lovely promise between sisters. But now, as Katherine knelt beside her sister’s bed, all she found herself able to do was keep hold of Mary’s hand as the real midwife did the brutal work. Tears formed out of the corners of her eyes–from her sense of worthlessness, from her sister’s vice-like grip–and Katherine blinked furiously, trying to be as present and in-the-moment as possible. She’d entered Brenham with a chorus of screams, having barely unpacked her suitcase before rushing immediately to Mary’s bedroom.

Mrs. Moore barked orders immediately, sending a startled Katherine to find clean towels, watch the boiling water, and bring it upstairs for use. The hours stretched endlessly onward, but Katherine dared not show any weakness; how could she possibly be more tired than her poor sister?

“We should send for Lucien,” Mrs. Moore insisted, salt-and-pepper hair coming undone from its typically tight bun.

“You will do no such thing,” Mary barely managed to snarl out.

It was then that Mary grabbed Katherine’s hand, forcefully pulling it to her side to help her endure the hardships to come. For the first time, Katherine noticed the bruises up the length of Mary’s arm, the hidden swell of welts creeping up from behind her sister’s shoulder. Lucien—if only he’d never come into their lives. If only Katherine weren’t such a burden to her sister. If only—it had been so easy back then, when the mother had been made of mere wood. There was no screaming, no bleeding; just a small window of time before Katherine grew impatient and produced the baby from her hand.

“—it’s a boy!”

Relief filled Katherine’s chest as the bundle was quickly taken to be cleaned and patted off. She turned to her sister, teary-eyed, only to be greeted by a resigned smile against her pallid face. Her stomach bottomed out, realization fighting against the withering hope for a miracle. “M-Mary, I–I’m sorry.”

“You would have been a terrible midwife, anyway,” Mary chuckled weakly. “Could…never sit still long enough.”

A hiccuping sob escaped Katherine’s lips. “Th-that’s mean. You–y-you can’t tease me now—I c-can’t even fight back.”

Whatever strength Mary remaining was used to squeeze harder, her voice dropping to a deathly serious tone. “Don’t sit still, Katherine.”

Of course, she didn’t want her to grieve for long. Katherine nodded, but Mary’s grip remained strong. She blinked furiously, fat tears spilling past her cheeks. “I…I don’t understand.”

“Leave. Leave, now, and t-take,” Mary stalled, mind visibly struggling to remain active. “Take…Thomas.”

“T-Thomas?” It took far too long for the weight of the request to hit Katherine; she gasped, panic squeezing against her throat and making it near impossible to speak. “Thomas—but, Mary, what about—”

“You can be both, right?” Mary asked weakly. “A…sister and a m-mother…right?”

Katherine blinked, eyes following the length of her sister’s arm. At the starkly purpled bruises, at the tinge of yellow underneath from beatings long-since passed.

Her sister’s grip all but faded away. Katherine continued squeezing tightly, the cries of her new nephew—her new son—grounding her to a world she wanted nothing more than to fade away from.

“Yes, M-Mary.” Katherine wiped her face with her free hand, the weight in her chest both terrifying and an anchor for a sudden, growing determination. “I can be both. For you, I’ll become everything.”

Chapter One

Bellville, Texas

1873

She wasn’t one for profanity, but Katherine felt the urge rising in her chest after sticking herself with her needle.

Again.

Tears welled in the corner of her eyes as she bit her tongue. Katherine forced herself to take a deep, calming breath instead. She set the half-sewn chemise across the dining room table, sticking the needle securely into her pin cushion before standing from her chair for a stretch. Her body ached from sitting hunched over for so long, so the break was welcomed. As she reached her sore fingers towards the ceiling, she heard the clumsy stumblings of a child who, perhaps, hadn’t quite become so coordinated with walking just yet.

Hazel eyes swept across the little cabin, and a warm smile crossed Katherine’s lips at the sight of a toddler doing everything in his power to break free of the makeshift pen set in the corner of their living space. Curls of fair hair spun wildly out from his head as he continued to pull against the wooden slats, tiny fingers flexing with youthful might. Eventually, he tumbled back onto a hand-stitched quilt, brilliant-blue eyes furrowed under a barely visible brow as he shot the dirtiest look a child his age could muster.

“Ooh, such a tremendous face for such a little boy!” Katherine crossed her arms gently, her attempt to scold the child failing delightfully as he, too, tried to cross his arms. Laughter escaped her as she moved across the room, standing over the boy’s pen with a dramatic sigh. “Oh, what am I to do with you, Thomas?”

He perked up instantly at his name, arms un-crossing as he pushed himself unsteadily back to his feet. “Up, up, Mom! Up!”

“My goodness, and so demanding, too?” Katherine teased. “Your mother ought to teach you some manners.” The thought struck a brief, lonely cord in her heart, and she quickly covered it with a wider smile. Arms outstretched, she easily gathered the boy and set him against her hip, playfully curling a strand of hair while he reached to grasp her index finger. “Suppose I’ll work on your manners once I find some free time, hmm?”

Thomas’ reply was a cross between baby babbles and cooing, eventually grabbing Katherine’s finger before squeezing it gently. She tilted his head gently, catching sight of the small, crescent-shaped birthmark just below his chin.

“No…I’ll always find time for you, my little Moon Boy,” Katherine promised gently.

A hearty knock at the front door pulled her attention away from Thomas, and she quickly crossed the small home, shifting the toddler’s weight entirely to one arm so the other could grasp the knob. It came as no surprise to see the town’s pastor waiting on her porch, dressed as always in his Sunday best his golden locks tamed under a thick layer of grease.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Wilkes!” He greeted cheerfully.

“Afternoon, Pastor George,” Katherine replied, doing her best to match the man’s vigor. A difficult task, to be certain; she couldn’t remember a time when the good pastor hadn’t held a smile or spoken with great enthusiasm. His energy was truly limitless, though perhaps that came with being a messenger for God.

He’d already turned his eye to Thomas, hand extended and tone dramatically serious. “Ah, and to you as well, Mister Wilkes. How have things been on the home front?”

Thomas giggled, grasping the pastor’s hands. “Good!”

“Very good!” Pastor George praised. “And you’ve been taking good care of your mother, I presume?”

“Good!” Thomas repeated.

Pastor George nodded very seriously, and Katherine couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. “Things have been good, pastor. Quiet and peaceful; just the way we like it.”

“Not too quiet, I hope?” Pastor George asked. “Idle hands, and all that.”

Katherine’s smile turned to a slight grimace. She stepped back, allowing the pastor to enter her small home fully. “Well, your wife’s chemise is just about finished, but I’m afraid accepting new work orders has been a touch difficult. I certainly don’t wish to make promises I cannot properly keep.”

Pastor George’s smile softened as he rested a hand on Katherine’s shoulder. “Ah…then, the sewing machine still isn’t fixed?”

Another painful twang vibrated in Katherine’s chest, and she gently shook her head. “I feel awful about it; after all that time you spent trying to find the parts to fix it.”

“Oh, now, none of that, Ms. Wilkes!” Pastor George insisted. “Your mother—bless her soul—she would have been rather cross with me if I hadn’t lent a hand as I did.” He smirked, as if musing over something humorous. “I remember visiting her with my own mother back in the day, getting scolded over tearing my nice jacket from climbing all those trees.”

Katherine recalled such visits herself. After all, she’d been the reason George climbed those trees in the first place, right alongside her until the sun had long set in the sky. “Gracious, our mothers must have thought us quite wicked back then,” she mused.

“Never, Katherine,” Pastor George insisted, his tone warming at the use of her name. “They likely thought of us simply as being children. But, on the subject of children,” he turned his attention back to Thomas, expression comically serious. “Mister Man-Of-The-House, I left a bag of goodies out on your mother’s porch. Mind showing me where your cellar is again?”

Thomas’ eyes brightened immediately, squirming free of Katherine’s grasp as he slid off her hip and down her legs. “Jammy?”

“I suppose there could be some of my wife’s jam in there,” Pastor George winked. “But we won’t know till we check. You don’t mind if I borrow Thomas, do you, Ms. Wilkes?”

“Certainly not,” Katherine beamed. “T’was mighty kind of you to bring anything at all. And, as long as Thomas helps out, I suppose he could have a spoonful before supper.”

A squealing shriek escaped Thomas as he rushed out the door, with Pastor George hot on his tail. Katherine allowed herself a chuckle, settling into the only armchair found within the small cabin. She leaned back into the plush cushion, sighing while pushing strands of ginger hair off her face. It was the one modicum of comfort she allowed herself, even amidst the rattling shutters and the continuous discovery of leaks in the ceiling. Those things always seemed to take whatever meager money she earned, so Katherine was satisfied in spending it once on something comfortable.

She slouched farther into the chair, finally noting the throbbing ache in her fingers from the weeks of hand-sewing.

“It would be one thing if the machine still worked,” Katherine sulked. But the poor machine was old; it didn’t surprise her when it finally broke down. Pastor George had done his best to find the hard-to-describe parts, but she refused to go into town herself.

She could handle the disapproving stares and whispers of illegitimacy, but Thomas was too old, now. Too smart for his own good. It wouldn’t take him long to sense the hostility from others.

Another knock at her door pulled Katherine back, and she quickly stood from her chair.

“I don’t regret it,” she reminded herself aloud. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Afterall…she promised Mary as much. No matter what people thought of her, that little boy would always be under her care; reputation be damned.

Damned seemed entirely apt a word as Katherine fully opened her door, biting back a terrified gasp at the familiar-faced man. “E-Edwin?”

Edwin.

A towering man with a practically unreadable expression. The perfect sort of person her once brother-in-law would have working closely beneath him. Even now, his brow remained still, regardless of Katherine’s noticeable panic.

Edwin, why was he here, of all places?

Though she recognized him quickly, Edwin seemed to need an extra moment, taking her in entirely before the slightest bit of recognition crossed his gaze. “As I live and breathe…Katherine Wilkes?”

She shouldn’t have said his name so quickly. Again, the urge to swear rose in Katherine’s chest, but she swallowed it, and the growing sense of dread backed down. “H-Hello…Edwin.”

He stared for another moment, recognition flooding his eyes. “This is where you ended up? Lucien always wondered, but he felt it was indecent to track you down. After…well…”

Katherine forced herself not to grimace, not to linger on that terrible night on the bruises across her sister’s body, both old and new, and the realization of what she’d have to do next. “I’m sorry for leaving in such a hurry. I regret not being there when Lucien came back.”

“His business meetings made him miss the train twice, trying to get home. I couldn’t imagine you waiting alone in that house, with Mary and the baby’s…”

Bodies, Katherine thought. It’s what she would’ve said.

“Well…perhaps it was for the best,” Edwin added hastily. “When he learned that the midwife had already, ah, ‘tended’ to the baby, Lucien flew into quite the rage. Wasn’t something a lady like yourself should have seen, but…” he sighed, shaking his head.

Katherine held her tongue; she’d never known what happened to Mrs. Moore, the woman who helped with the terrible trick. “W-Well, it’s lovely to see you again, but I should really get back to work before I run out of daylight.”

“Ah, right; I originally came to ask for repair work, though I didn’t expect to see you.” Edwin then began to shrug off his coat, gesturing along one of the arm’s sleeves. There was a noticeable tear just along the main hem, and Katherine bit her lip nervously. Seems she wouldn’t get rid of the past so easily, after all.

“Bellville has a wonderful tailor in town,” she began, trying to keep her tone light. “Certainly, he would be better at mending this than I would?”

It was the first time Katherine heard a chuckle escape from Edwin. More than that, it was the first time she’d seen him so…expressive. Mary’s death truly had affected them all, some for the better, and some for the worse, from what he’d vaguely described. “Admittedly, when folks spoke of a ‘Ms. Wilkes’ living on her lonesome just outside of the border, I had to make sure for myself if it was you.”

And now, Lucien would know exactly where she’d gotten off to.

And to make things worse, the back door flew open as Thomas triumphantly toddled across the cabin, a jar of jam in his hands as he cackled loudly. Pastor George tailed behind once more, laughing himself before managing to catch up and swoop the boy off his feet. “Got you, ya little bandit!”

Another shriek flew from Thomas, and his feet kicked playfully in an attempt to escape. Katherine watched as Pastor George shifted the boy onto his hip, gently prying the jam jar from the toddler’s hands. He then glanced up, greeting Katherine with a smile before noticing Edwin. “Ah, excuse me, Ms. Wilkes; I hadn’t meant to interrupt your business.”

“It’s no trouble,” Edwin insisted, though his gaze remained fixated on Thomas.

Katherine crossed the room and eased Thomas out from the pastor’s arms, speaking as her back was turned to Edwin. “Well, you should be on your way, Edwin. I highly recommend going to the town’s tailor; I simply don’t have the time to take on your request.”

Pastor George furrowed his brow curiously, leaning around to get a better look at Katherine’s newest guest. “You seem familiar with my favorite seamstress, sir.”

“Quite familiar,” Edwin agreed, expression unreadable once more. “Her sister was once married to my employer, Mister Lucien Crane, of Crane’s Imports.”

A startled gasp escaped Pastor George. “Mary was married? And to such a well-known merchant family—Katherine!” He turned to her, seemingly hurt. “You kept this from me for two years?”

Katherine quickly moved toward Thomas’ playpen, setting him down in silent desperation. Why did he have to come back inside, of all times?

“Mary died giving birth to Mr. Crane’s child,” Edwin explained, still staring at Thomas as he went about busying himself within the pen. “I can’t imagine that’s an easy topic for Katherine to bring up.”

“Oh…gracious, I–I didn’t…” Pastor George made a quick sign of the cross while offering a reassuring hand against Katherine’s shoulder. This time, she couldn’t help but flinch away, causing a concerned frown to fill the pastor’s face. “I’m so terribly sorry—you have my condolences. And, the child…I’m assuming they also…?”

“So said the midwife.” The ice in Edwin’s tone was entirely tangible; Katherine couldn’t help but shiver.

“How awful,” Pastor George said. “I’m certain Thomas would have loved to have met his cousin.” His somber mood brightened immediately as he added, “Oh, but–this must have been God’s plan for you all along, Katherine! To allow you the time to mourn before sending family back into your life–that is, if you think Mr. Crane would accept them, Mister…?”

“Bates. Edwin Bates.” Edwin stared long and hard at Katherine, nodding slowly and speaking in such a terribly calm candor. “And Mr. Crane would be thrilled to welcome his family home.”

“H-He doesn’t need,” Katherine swallowed, trying to catch her breath, to think of an excuse to get these men out of her house. “Thomas was born out of wedlock, Edwin. I wouldn’t want to place that burden on Lucien’s reputation.”

“Let’s not assume what the good man may do, Miss Wilkes,” Pastor George replied curtly. “I trust Mary to have married an outstanding man, and Thomas deserves a proper role model, don’t you think?”

“Yes, Miss Wilkes,” Edwin practically coated her name with venom, expression hard as stone. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he came to see Thomas as his own.”

This couldn’t be happening. Katherine blinked, black spots threatening to overtake her vision as the world threatened to upheaval itself once more. Two years—was that truly all the peace she deserved in life?

“This is wonderful! Oh, please, Mr. Bates, let me offer my home to you while you send for your employer.” Pastor George had long since left Katherine’s side, stepping what felt like an impossibly far distance away from her as he escorted Edwin to the door. “I can’t imagine how unexpected this all has been, especially if you mean to only be passing through. I’ll certainly miss seeing Thomas so often, but this really is for the best.”

Pastor George had long since left the home, continuing on while he made his way through the front yard. But Edwin lingered for a moment longer, staring at Thomas as if memorizing every detail. “Curious birthmark,” he noted, gesturing to his chin.

Sick welled up in the back of Katherine’s throat. He’d phrased it less like a question and more like a statement giving her a chance to come clean. Fists clenched at her side, Katherine inhaled deeply and put on the greatest smile she could muster. “You’re mistaken, sir. Poor boy got that from playing too close to the stove; aren’t boys just so stubborn sometimes?”

The plea was obvious, the slight jab even more so. Still, Edwin only replied with a shrug before closing the front door gently behind him.