Valley of the Moon. Melanie Gideon

do you?”

      “I don’t need one. I wake up the same time every day.”

      “Same,” she said proudly. “See you at dawn.”

       Lux

      I woke to the sound of something being poured, Martha filling the washbasin with hot water. Through the window I could see the first streaks of red in the sky. The sun hadn’t risen yet.

      I sat up in bed. “You don’t have to do that. I can do it myself.” I didn’t want her to wait on me—it made me uncomfortable.

      “It’s chilly in the mornings. You won’t be used to the cold house.”

      I pulled back the covers and put my bare feet on the floor. The wood was freezing. I gave a little gasp.

      Martha dragged the rag rug to the side of the bed. “That’s where it belongs, not in the middle of the room.” She scowled and I felt guilty, as if I had been the one who moved the rug, though I wasn’t.

      “Joseph says you want to join the garden crew today.”

      “Yes, if that’s okay. Unless I’m needed elsewhere.”

      She looked impeccable, her hair swept back neatly into a bun. She wore a gray skirt and a spotlessly clean apron.

      “Where you work is entirely up to you, as I’m sure Joseph explained.” She eyed my skinny ankles suspiciously. “Although it’s a busy time of year in the garden. You’ll be harvesting. It’s backbreaking, repetitive work. Kneeling. Stooping over, picking, hauling baskets to the wagon.”

      “That won’t be a problem. I’m a waitress. I carry platters of food all day long. I can even carry a keg of beer up from the basement.” A pony keg, but still.

      She cocked her head as if trying to imagine me with a keg of beer on my shoulder. “The water’s getting cold,” she said.

      “Thank you. And next time—”

      She waved dismissively at me. “Yes, yes, you’ll get your own water. Don’t worry, I have no intention of being your servant.”

      I dressed in the same outfit I’d had on yesterday. Skirt, blouse, and hiking boots. When I got downstairs, I found Fancy waiting for me.

      “Good morning!” she piped. “Did you sleep well?”

      I hadn’t slept much at all. I’d been too revved up after my conversation with Joseph, which for some reason had left me feeling exposed. Also, I couldn’t stop thinking about Benno. Day three without him. I missed him desperately.

      “I slept okay.”

      “Wonderful,” said Fancy. “Let’s go to the dining hall. I’m starving.”

      “Should we wait for Joseph and Martha?”

      “They left ages ago,” she said, linking her arm through mine.

      A few minutes after we set out, the bell rang. Families streamed out of their cottages and the dormitories emptied. Children ran ahead of their parents, dogs at their feet. Roosters crowed. Horses pushed their velvety noses into fresh hay.

      I could smell the pancakes from a hundred feet away. My stomach grumbled.

      “Everybody’s looking at us,” said Fancy. “At you.”

      They were looking at me but something had changed since last night. Their faces seemed more open, less guarded.

      “It’s odd, isn’t it?” said Fancy. “How quickly something unbelievable becomes believable.”

      I was thinking the very same thing. Yesterday I’d spent the day riding waves of surreality and shock. Thinking This can’t be happening. Today, just twenty-four hours later, those waves were still coming in but the time between sets was much longer. This was happening. I was here. I saw the same acknowledgment on people’s faces.

      “What crew are you on?” I asked Fancy.

      “Much to my brother’s dismay, I’m a flutterbudget. I just can’t seem to settle on one thing. Where are you working today?”

      “The garden.”

      “Oh,” she groaned. “Poor girl.”

      “I chose it.”

      “Mmm, let’s see how you feel about it tonight, shall we? When that lovely complexion is the color of a beet and your clothes—my clothes—are soaked through with sweat.”

      “You should come with me,” I said.

      “How I wish I could. I have just the perfect hat, with a lovely blue satin ribbon.” She looked at me sadly. “Alas, I’ve already committed myself to the entertainment crew.”

      “The entertainment crew. Joseph didn’t mention that.”

      “That’s because I’m starting it today. You’re welcome to join—I have all sorts of things planned. I thought our inaugural event would be an old-fashioned country dance. The Scottish reel, lots of lively skipping up and down in rows just like in Pride and Prejudice. Then a strings concert; as it happens, the beekeeper is a violinist and there are two cellists on the building crew. And perhaps a bimonthly lecture series. There is a great deal of untapped knowledge here at Greengage. And why, you, Lux! Oh my goodness, why haven’t I thought of you? You must be our first lecturer. You can fill us in on what we’ve missed. Tell us all about the twentieth century. Will you do it? Please say you’ll do it. Please?”

      “Fancy,” said Joseph. “She hasn’t even had her tea yet.” He’d suddenly materialized beside us.

      “Good heavens,” said Fancy. “Must you always be popping up like that? It’s so uncivilized, not to give a person some warning. And stop interfering. We’re the most bosom of friends already. Isn’t that right, Lux?”

      Nobody had ever referred to me as a bosom friend before. I felt tears come to my eyes, which was completely ridiculous, especially under the circumstances.

      “You are overwhelming her,” said Joseph, peering at me with concern.

      Twice now he’d seen me tear up. What was wrong with me? Why was I so emotional here?

      “I am not overwhelming her.”

      “She’s not. She’s not overwhelming me,” I said, although the idea of giving a talk to 278 people made me feel faint.

      Fancy squeezed my arm.

      “Come on, you two,” said Joseph, leading us into the dining hall. “Fancy, make sure you eat a proper breakfast. You have a long day ahead of you, installing the new privies.”

      Fancy snorted, “I will be doing no such thing.”

      Martha was right. Being on the garden crew was backbreaking, repetitive work—but I loved it all the same. They started me in strawberries, me and all the kids; I guess they thought I couldn’t be trusted with proper vegetables yet. The children sat in the dirt, and for every strawberry they picked, another went into their mouths. None of them spoke to me for a while, although they did their share of staring, and then one little boy asked, “Don’t you like strawberries?” and that broke the dam of silence.

      “I love strawberries,” I said.

      “Then why aren’t you eating them?” asked a girl.

      “Because I’m not hungry.”

      “Why aren’t you hungry?”

      “Because I just ate breakfast.”

      “What