Keeping Secrets Read Free

delicious as Peg knew it would be. Afterward, Ma prepared a tray, taking it to Miss Hennessey herself, and Frances insisted on doing all the cleaning up.
    Peg curled contentedly into a chair by the fire Mr. Murphy had laid in the wide, brick fireplace in the parlor. This was not only a special day for Peg, there was a guest in the house, so the parlor would be readied for her use. How different from their usual routine of spending the evening at the kitchen table, Peg thought. Most evenings she’d be busy with schoolwork, Ma would have a lap full of mending, and John would goover every inch of
The St. Joseph Gazette
, bits and pieces of which he’d read aloud.
    As Peg stretched like a cat, sucking on a piece of the taffy Frances had brought her and luxuriating in the warmth from the fire, Ma came downstairs with a report that Miss Hennessey had eaten every bite of her supper and had settled back in bed, ready once again to sleep.
    “The color’s come back into her face,” Ma said with satisfaction as she placed her oil lamp on the table. “With rest and good food she’ll be herself in no time at all.”
    Her gaze went from the small clock on the parlor table to Peg. “It’s getting late. Time for bed, love,” she said.
    “Ma!” Peg complained. “I’m older now. I shouldn’t have to go to bed at eight-thirty. Besides, it’s my birthday!”
    “Birthday or no birthday, you have school tomorrow,” Ma replied. “I’m not sending you off to Miss Thomas to yawn in her face and stumble over your sums.” She bent to kiss Peg on the forehead and pull her to her feet. “Good night, love.”
    “Ma, you don’t treat me seriously,” Peg complained. “I’m old enough to take on a fair share of the cooking and cleaning—and do a good job of it! Yet you send me off to bed as though I’m an infant! You’re all going to talk about Miss Hennessey and the raid and her escape, and I want to hear, too!”
    “No, you don’t,” Ma said. “Things have happened in this miserable war that are too horrible for young ears to hear and young minds to comprehend.”
    “But—”
    “Good night, Peggy, my love,” Ma said. Her hug turned into a gentle push toward the stairs.
    Grumbling under her breath, Peg hurried outside through the cool night air to the privy, then—taking one of the lamps—slowly climbed the stairs to her room, which was across from the head of the stairs. She poured cold water from the pitcher into the basin and washed her face, then slipped into her nightgown and slid under the puffy quilt, pulling it up to her chin.
    The bed was soon cozy with body warmth, and the distant hum of voices from the parlor made Peg drowsy. She closed her eyes, snuggled under the quilt, and began to drift into sleep; but she was suddenly startled awake by the creak of floorboards in the hall outside her room.

3
 
    T HE FAINT CREAKING stopped. Whoever had trod on the boards must still be there, neither moving on nor returning. Overcome with curiosity, Peg slipped out of bed, pulled on a cotton wrapper, and silently opened her bedroom door.
    Deep in the shadows, hugging the wall on the top stair, sat Violet Hennessey, her chin stretched forward and her head tilted as if she were listening to the conversation in the parlor below.
    Peg sucked in her breath, astounded at the change in Miss Hennessey. The shy, drab victim had disappeared, replaced by a handsome woman, her long, dark hair woven in a thick braid that hung over a ruffled and embroidered white cotton gown and wrapper more elegant than any Peg could have imagined.
    The tiny sound Peg had made alerted Miss Hennessey,who whirled, eyes wide. For just an instant they stared at each other, then Miss Hennessey’s shoulders curled inward and she slumped against the wall, tugging the neck of her wrapper into a wad under her chin. A tiny, apologetic smile flickered on her lips and she motioned to Peg to come closer.
    Blinking, Peg wondered if she had imagined the quick