The First Midnight Spell Read Free Page A

She seemed to think spells should only be used when there was no other way. Elizabeth, sweating as she labored over the washing, didn’t agree.
    By noon they were ready to hang up the first batch of laundry. Her younger cousins weren’t tall enough to help much, so Elizabeth shooed them off and got to work. The wet sheets were heavy, and she struggled to get each one over the clothesline without letting a corner trail along the ground, get muddy, and ruin it all.
    â€œNeed help with that?”
    Startled, she glanced over to see that Nat Porter stood nearby.
    How long had he be standing there, watching her work? Elizabeth wasn’t sure whether to be horrified or thrilled. Her face was no doubt flushed from the effort, and her hair had frizzed out from the edges of her cap . . . but he was here, now, and she had to make the best of it. “Would you mind? I’d greatly appreciate it.”
    â€œI don’t mind. It’s hard when you’ve only got young ones for help.” Nat got to work right beside her. He was growing into a tall man, easily able to reach and fold, and the extra pair of hands made the work light. At first Elizabeth was surprised that a man should be not only willing to help with the washing but obviously also familiar with the task. Then she remembered that he was the Widow Porter’s only child. No doubt he’d had to pitch in with every chore.
    Elizabeth had always found herself tongue-tied around Nat, but had told herself that was for the best. If it was impossible for her to marry Nat, then it would do her no good to get to know him better.
    But now she knew the First Laws weren’t as powerful as she’d assumed. The impossible now seemed tantalizingly plausible, and very, very near.
    So she said, “Good of you to offer.”
    â€œI don’t mind.” How she loved his simple, easy manner. “Truth be told, I always liked helping Ma with the washing, when I was little.”
    â€œYou liked this?” Elizabeth had to laugh.
    â€œNot the lye soap. But I liked working with Ma, because she’d be silly with me, and we’d get to laughing. Once the sheets were hung up, I would pretend they were ghosts and spirits, run around making scary noises. You know. Children’s nonsense. That’s what all the best memories are made out of.”
    Elizabeth wanted to tell a story about her own childhood, something to match his. But in truth she had never been very silly, not even as a little girl. So she tried another tack. “Laundry’s not my least favorite chore. I’d do that any day before milking the cow! But at least the little ones are capable enough to handle her now.”
    â€œI imagine the cow likes it even less,” Nat said with a smile. His face seemed to catch all the spring sunlight and make it warm as summer.
    Keep talking, keep talking! Yet she found it hard to think of what to say. “My favorite—my favorite chore is sewing. I like to sew.”
    â€œMy mother has some of your needlework. You’ve a good hand for it,” Nat replied. It was a commonplace nicety, and yet every word sang in her heart like poetry.
    â€œWhat about you?” she said. “What do you most enjoy doing?”
    â€œHeading over to New Barton, to trade.” Nat’s face took on a softer expression, thoughtful and almost dreamy. Perhaps New Barton was a more interesting place; certainly it was larger than Fortune’s Sound. Elizabeth had never left Fortune’s Sound since her ship had first arrived from England so many years before. Those weeks spent in the cramped space belowdecks, seasick and wave-tossed and despairing ever of seeing land—to her, that seemed like traveling enough for one lifetime.
    She found herself envying New Barton for whatever pleasure it gave Nat. Elizabeth wanted him to be that happy here. With her.
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    That evening, after supper, Aunt Ruth gave permission for Elizabeth