The following morning Isaiah carried water to the kitchen while Ruth stood beside the stove.
She did not look at him until the cook’s assistant left with a basket of bread.
“Your sister wants to see you,” Ruth said.
“Is Micah sick?”
“No, but the sewing room has a new order.”
“What kind?”
“Six travel coats with hidden pockets.”
Isaiah stopped beside the pump.
“Who ordered them?”
“Mrs. Whitcomb.”
He remembered the six crates unloaded from the wagon.
Ruth watched him think.
“You were upstairs again.”
Isaiah kept his voice low.
“Did anyone hear what we said?”
“I heard a woman asking questions she already knew the answers to.”
“Did you hear anything else?”
“I heard you say your sister’s name.”
Isaiah gripped the bucket handle.
Ruth was older than his mother would have been, with broad hands marked by burns from years at the stove.
She had survived by hearing more than she repeated.
“What did you want at the door?” he asked.
“I wanted her to know that somebody was awake.”
“Why?”
“Because you were not the first man she locked in that room.”
Isaiah felt the blood leave his face.
Ruth turned back to the stove before he could question her.
“Your sister is waiting.”
The sewing room stood above the carriage house.
Its windows faced the yard, where servants and laborers moved under constant supervision.
Esther sat at a long table with four other women, all bent over coarse brown cloth.
She lifted her eyes when Isaiah entered.
Micah was asleep on a folded blanket near her feet.
Esther did not greet her brother until the supervisor stepped outside.
“You have been going to the house after dark,” she whispered.
“I have been ordered there.”
“I know.”
She pulled a half-finished coat across the table.
The lining was heavier than ordinary cloth.
“Look at this.”
Isaiah touched the seam.
A narrow strip of leather had been sewn inside it.
“What is it for?”
“Mrs. Whitcomb asked us to make pockets that could hold small wooden pieces without showing a shape.”
“Did she explain why?”
“She said her husband wanted samples carried to a buyer.”
Isaiah examined the pocket opening.
“Six coats?”
“Six, but she asked me to cut a seventh.”
“Who will wear them?”
“She would not say.”
Esther lowered her voice.
“Isaiah, Curtis came here yesterday and asked how fast we could finish.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him two days.”
“Could you finish sooner?”
“Yes, but I would rather he believe we are slow.”
Isaiah gave her a brief smile.
It faded when she lifted Micah onto her lap.
“Curtis said the child would be taken to the big house if I fell behind.”
Isaiah crouched beside her.
“He will not take Micah.”
“You cannot promise that.”
“I can promise I will not stop looking for a way to prevent it.”
Esther held his gaze.
“Then tell me what I am sewing.”
Isaiah glanced at the doorway.
“Something a man stole and a woman is trying to move.”
Esther’s needle remained suspended above the cloth.
“Then I want to know whose hands will carry it.”
