A few days after George and Katie's wedding, I moved my things out of Tom and Martha's flat and into Fred's. It was definitely strange, especially because Martha cried. I had come back for one last bag and looked around my now empty room with an odd feeling in my chest. And then Martha had burst into tears. I'd looked at her in alarm and she told me she was happy for me-extremely happy-but she was just going to miss me.

"Martha, I'm not going far," I said gently. "I'll just be right down the alley. You can come visit whenever you want and I'll still come visit you. I'll still be coming to work every day, too. You'll be seeing me plenty."

She nodded and pulled me into a tight hug. "It's just been so lovely having you here," she whispered.

"It's been great living here," I said. I looked between her and Tom. "I mean it-I don't know how I could ever repay you for taking me in. I'm so, so grateful."

"You don't have to repay us," Martha whispered, gently placing a hand on my cheek. "You're family, Sophie. So many people love you. We love you. Fred loves you. Tom and I just have to learn to share."

I nodded before hugging her again as tightly as I could. "I love you, too," I whispered. "You'll always be like a mother to me."

Martha's eyes filled with tears again as she hugged me even tighter. When she let me go, I turned to Tom and looked up at him with a small smile.

He cleared his throat and rocked forward on his feet. "Martha's right," he said. "Having you here has been a pleasure."

"You act like you'll never see me again," I whispered. "You're going to see me in two days when I show up for work."

"And you'd best be on time," Tom said sternly.

Martha swatted him as I laughed and rolled my eyes. "Of course, Tom," I said, leaning up to hug him. "I'd still like to stop in for tea or something maybe once a week," I said, pulling away. "Fred tries, but he's not as good at making it as you are."

"You can stop by twice a week if you'd like," Tom said. "Or even every day. Better yet, you don't even have to move out. I'm not completely sure I like the idea of you moving in with-"

"Tom, please," Martha sighed.

"He hasn't put a ring on her finger yet!" Tom exclaimed. "I'd just like to see him show some form of commitment. What if things end? What if things don't work out? She'll have to move out of his flat and-,"

"If Sophie has to move out, she'll move right back in here with us," Martha said as I looked at Tom in amusement. "But I doubt she'll have to. That boy loves her. He's already shown he's committed without having to buy her a ring. You know it as much as I do. And if you ask me, a wedding ring will be coming soon enough. And I don't want to hear a word out of you when it does!"

"What would I possibly say?" Tom asked, looking at Martha with a raised eyebrow.

"Knowing you, you'd turn around and complain that they're too young to be married and that they aren't ready. When you also know full well that you and I were married at twenty-one! You also can't complain that you want to see proof of commitment but then complain again when you do finally see it. So, I'm telling you now that you'd better keep your mouth shut!"

Tom was fighting back a laugh as he turned to look at me. I chewed on my lip to stifle a laugh of my own as I looked up at him.

"If you get married," he told me, "things like this are what you have to look forward to for the rest of your life."

"Thomas!" Martha scolded.

Tom shrugged as I giggled.

"I think Fred and I will be just fine," I assured him. "I could be dating Marcus Flint. Then you'd have to worry."

Tom groaned. "I can't even hear that boy's name without wanting to give him a good smack."

"Well, you'll have to restrain yourself," Martha said. "Considering he comes into the pub nearly every week with his friends."

"Now, Martha, you dislike him just as much as I do. You didn't like having him here yourself even before he treated Sophie the way he did."

Just then, there was a soft knock on the door. We looked up to see Fred leaning against the doorframe, his knuckles poised above the wood.

"I hope you weren't just talking about me," he said with a smile.

"Of course not, dear," Martha said, beaming at Fred.

"Marcus Flint," I said, looking over my shoulder at Fred with a wry smile. "I was just telling Tom to be appreciative that it's not him that I'm dating."

Fred pretended to gag. "The idea of anyone wanting to date that troll is repulsive, but especially you. You're way out of his league. He just thinks you aren't, which is completely degrading."

"Thanks, Fred," I said with a laugh as Martha nudged Tom and smiled fondly at Fred.

"I'm serious!" he said.

"I know you are."

He nodded before turning to Tom and Martha. "I just came to make sure everything was okay. Sophie said she just had one more bag to get..."

"Missing me already?" I asked him quietly.

"Completely," he said, smiling wider as he met my eyes.

Martha leaned over and nudged Tom. "How can you doubt whether or not he'll ask her to marry him when he looks at her like that?" She whispered, a bright smile lighting up her face.

"What was that?" Fred asked with a grin, ambling into the room and coming to stand next to me. He wordlessly took the strap of my backpack and slid it off my shoulder and onto his own as he continued to smile at Martha teasingly. "Don't tell me you're already trying to plan our wedding. And if you are, don't let my mother hear you. She'll go into wedding planning overload."

Martha chuckled. "Tom was just being overprotective earlier. I had to remind him that Sophie is in good hands with you."

"The best," Fred said earnestly.

"Take care of her, Weasley," Tom said, reaching out to clap Fred on the shoulder. "I mean it."

"Tom, please stop acting like you'll never see me again," I pleaded with a laugh. I smiled up at him. "I'll be at work on Friday, and I was serious about coming by for tea once a week."

"Good, because I was serious about it, too," Tom said, smiling down at me. He suddenly pulled me into a tight hug. "Doesn't mean I won't miss you, though," he whispered.

I smiled and kissed his cheek as my throat constricted slightly. "I'll miss you, too," I whispered back.

I pulled away and hugged Martha, giving her a kiss on the cheek as well before turning back to Fred.

"Ready?" He asked.

I nodded. "Ready."

After one last goodbye to Tom and Martha, Fred and I headed back down the alley, holding hands and walking in a comfortable silence. It was cold enough for us to see our breath in the air almost each time we exhaled, and eventually I tucked my chin down into my scarf to warm up a bit.

When we reached the joke shop, we went in through the back door and went up the stairs to the flat. Fred pushed open the door and turned to me with a grin.

"Welcome home," he said, standing back and letting me pass him.

As I stepped into the room, I let out a laugh. Fred had decorated it with balloons and streamers and even a banner.

Happy Fiftieth Anniversary!

"It's not totally wrong this time!" Fred laughed and held up his hands defensively as I shot him a look. "The amount of time is wrong, but it is technically one year since-"

"I know," I whispered softly, reaching up to run my fingers through his hair. "Since I found you sulking in the Ropes Mansion flower garden."

Fred laughed again. "Yeah, that." He let out a puff of air as he set my bag down on a chair and looked at me. "But you and I-we're one whole year in, Soph," he whispered.

"I don't even know where the time went," I answered quietly. "It went by so quickly."

Fred smiled down at me before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, shiny, gold object. "Key to the back door," he said, handing it to me. "I still have to get you one for the front door, but we mainly use the back door anyway. And you already know how to activate and deactivate the protective charms, so I'd say you're officially my flat mate now."

I turned the key over in my palm a few times before closing my fist around it as my chest tightened and tears pricked my eyes.

Fred didn't say anything. He just reached out and took my free hand in his, letting me work through the surge of emotions I was feeling.

Finally, I looked up and met his eyes with a small smile on my face as I took in a shaky breath and let it out. Fred reached out and wiped away my tears with his thumb as he stood there and waited for me to say something.

"Fred?" I said quietly. I was unsure just what to say to tell him how much moving in with him meant to me-how much being with him at all meant to me. I wasn't sure if I could even express it. I thought he knew anyway, but I had to say something.

"What is it?" He asked quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I-" I broke off and shook my head as I sniffled. "I really, really love you."

Fred laughed and my cheeks flushed pink. That had certainly sounded so dim in comparison to how I was feeling. But it was also true.

"I just don't know what else to say," I continued. "Or even how to say it."

"Then don't," Fred said. "I already know all of it." He took my face in his hands before leaning in and pressing a kiss to my lips. "And I really, really love you too," he laughed. Suddenly, he brightened. "By the way, take a closer look at that key. I had something engraved on the top."

"What?" I asked, my eyes widening as I held the key up to my face and flipped it around, looking for the engraving. When I saw it, I almost started crying again.

Love stays.

The same words that were engraved on the sundial in Salem. The sundial in the flower garden where Fred had told me he loved me. The sundial that sat behind the house where my mother may have left me, but where I really confided in Fred about it. Where I'd finally let myself be really vulnerable for the first time ever and shown him my scars.

Fred and I had both had doubts at one point or another in our lives on whether or not the words were true. Whether or not love did actually stay. But it did. In one way or another. Just because Fred had lost Percy physically, the fact that Fred himself was alive was a daily reminder of Percy's act of love. Just because Angelina had fallen in romantic love with someone else, didn't mean she didn't have any kind of love left for Fred. She still loved him as a friend and as a person, that much was clear.

Even in the case of my mother-I'd found out she'd continued to love me even when I'd thought she stopped. She'd come back into my life and she'd stayed. She'd shown she wanted a second chance and she'd earned it. And besides that, love was the reason that I had stayed here in London with the people I cared about most. Otherwise, I probably would have ended up running away.

My father, of course, was a whole different story. He hadn't stayed at all, but I'd found people here who not only gave me love of their own, but made up for what my own father hadn't given me. Tom had stepped in-unexpectedly for both of us, I think-and started to become the father I never had. I'd found people here who proved to me they wanted to stay. Stay in my life. Stay with me. And people who had convinced me to stay with them. Tom, Martha, Rachel, Kayla, and Allie. Fred.

Despite how utterly messy I'd been-and even continued to be-since I arrived in London, Fred had always stayed. He hadn't given up on me. He'd been my friend first and now he was so much more. He'd stayed through my nightmares, through my fears, through my problems. He'd stayed after I showed him my biggest physical insecurity. He'd stayed even after I'd showed him all the ugliest parts of me. But then again, I supposed I'd done the same for him.

"Don't cry again," Fred said, noticing the fresh tears dripping down my cheeks.

"How else do you want me to react to this?" I asked with a tearful laugh as I swiped at my eyes.

"I don't know," Fred whispered.

I sighed and closed the key in my fist again as I looked back up at Fred. "Somehow, I think I love you even more right now. Which I didn't think was possible."

Fred chuckled and leaned in to kiss my forehead. "I think I've still got you beat. Because I love you the most."

"Debatable," I answered.

Fred smiled and picked up my hand again. "What do you say we get you unpacked? And then we can find something to eat because I'm already starving."

I laughed as he tugged on my hand and pulled me towards the bedroom. As I followed him, I couldn't help but look around the flat and notice that things felt different to me now. It wasn't just Fred and George's flat that I frequented at least once a week. I lived here now. This was my home.

Home. The word had never felt so wonderful before.

Fred and I were invited to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day at the Burrow with the Weasleys, who were also kind enough to invite Tom and Martha on both days so I wouldn't have to split up my time between everyone. We could all gather in one place, which was exactly how I liked it anyway.

On Christmas Eve, Fred and I were naturally running late. But it was only because Fred wasn't able to find one of his shoes.

"It's because you keep kicking them off when you get in," I told him in frustration as I leaned against the wall by the door and crossed my arms. I was ready to go-and had been ready for a bit-but of course Fred was the one making us late.

"It's not like I'm kicking them into outer space, Soph," Fred said as he peered under the couch. "They can't go far."

"Even still, how many times have I asked you to stop doing that?" I asked. "I mentioned it to you before I even moved in."

"It's really not that big of a deal," Fred said, his voice strained as he stretched an arm further under the couch. He smiled as he located his shoe and pulled it out. He got up and sat on the couch as he began putting the shoe on his foot.

"It is when you can't find your shoes, therefore making us late," I said. "Or when I'm tripping over them. One day I'm going to break my neck."

"Don't be so dramatic," Fred laughed, looking up at me as he finished lacing up his shoe. He stood and came over to me, still smiling-his expression a contrast to my own. I was looking up at him with raised eyebrows. Fred laughed again and leaned in to quickly kiss me, gently placing a hand on the side of my head as he did so. "Come on, stop looking at me like that," he said.

"I'm not being dramatic, Fred," I sighed. "I've already tripped on your damn shoes before. Several times."

"It's Christmas Eve," Fred whispered, putting his hands on my upper arms. "Can't you yell at me over this in a few days? In fact, let's just push it back until after the new year. For now, let's just go enjoy ourselves, shall we?"

I nodded. "Sure." A small smile tugged up a corner of my mouth. "But on the second of January, I'd better not see a single shoe lying on the floor."

"That's not what I promised," Fred laughed. "I only promised we could save this discussion until then."

"I'd rather you just put your shoes away," I whispered with a quiet laugh of my own.

Fred just smiled down at me before moving his hands to my waist as he leaned in and kissed me, pushing me slightly harder into the wall as he did so. He pulled away just slightly and this time, I leaned up and initiated a kiss. He kissed me back for a moment before pulling away again.

"We should get going," he whispered. "You're making us late."

I gaped up at him before playfully swatting at his chest as he laughed.

"If your mother says anything, I'm going to tell her exactly why we're late!" I cried as I headed for the door. Fred followed me, his hands in his pockets and an amused smile on his face.

"You're going to tell her you can't keep your hands-or your lips-off of me?" He asked casually. When I whirled around to shoot him another look, he laughed. "You can't yell at me, it's Christmas."

"Bullshit," I responded, reaching for the doorknob.

Fred began to laugh even harder as we quickly headed down the stairs. "You know, with every day that goes by, you start acting a little more like a Weasley. I don't think I've ever been more proud."

"It's hard not to start behaving like you when I'm with you and your family almost all the time," I answered swiftly. "And there are also so many of you. It's like you have your own small army."

"That's exactly what we are," Fred answered with another laugh as we headed out the back door. "You should know that by now."

"I do," I said, "considering you've gone to battle for me pretty much since the day I met you."

Fred smiled and took my hand, kissing the back of it before he Apparated us to the Burrow. We walked to the front door and Fred pushed it open to let us inside.

We were immediately met with the sound of raised voices-Ginny and Ron were in a heated discussion in the living room, while Harry, Hermione, Bill and Fleur looked on in slight amusement.

"You're delusional, Ron!" Ginny said. She was standing in front of the fireplace with her arms crossed as she stared at Ron with a frown. "McGonagall would completely kick Kingsley's ass!"

"Kingley's years younger than she is!" Ron argued from where he was standing just behind the couch, facing Ginny. He began gesturing wildly with his arms as he spoke. "He was an Auror! He was trained-physically, mentally, emotionally. And he's the Minister of Magic!"

"So?" Ginny asked. "What does being Minister have to do with anything? And McGonagall may not be thirty or even forty years old anymore, but she's powerful. She could take someone down with a snarky comment alone."

"We weren't talking about who could out-sass the other," Ron said. "The question was which one of them would win in a fight!"

"Ooh, why are McGonagall and Kingsley fighting?" Fred asked in interest as he dropped down in a chair. He tugged me down into his lap, one hand wrapping around my waist and the other going to my legs.

"It was a hypothetical question," Hermione explained.

"Damn," Fred muttered. "I would've paid to see McGonagall fight Kingsley."

"Ginny first asked us if McGonagall or Professor Sprout would win in a fight," Bill said. "We all agreed McGonagall, so then I asked who would win between McGonagall and Kingsley. We all agreed McGonagall again except for Ron."

"It's McGonagall both times for sure," Fred scoffed. He looked at Ron. "You've been on the receiving end of one of McGonagall's death glares plenty of times to know that it could make anyone's legs go weak with nerves. Then she could overpower them from there."

"That never happened to you," Ron said. "She's given you that look more than she gave it to me!"

"That's up for debate," Fred quipped.

"Regardless, you'd always just ignore her glares and laugh."

"Well, I'm an exception," Fred said. "George and I are just elite." He paused. "Where is George, by the way?"

"Late," Ginny answered. "Even later than you."

"Ah, see that was Sophie's doing," Fred said with a grin, poking me in the side and causing me to giggle and squirm around. "She couldn't keep her hands off me."

"Liar," I answered. "You couldn't find your damn shoes."

"Figures," Ginny sighed. "He and George would drive Mum mad by kicking their shoes off every which way. She almost fell down the stairs tripping over them once, and they still didn't change their habits."

"Well, now I'm the one tripping over them," I said.

"Anyway," Fred said loudly, "Sophie, what's your opinion on the McGonagall-Kingsley fight?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I've only met McGonagall a few times. I know Kingsley a bit more, and I think Ron makes valid points about him, but McGonagall did strike me as a no nonsense kind of woman. And I think if the rest of you are saying she'd win after knowing her for so long, I'll have to agree."

"That's not fair," Ron muttered. "You can't make an accurate assumption without knowing both people enough."

"You still lost whether Sophie voted for McGonagall or not," Fred said. "So, suck it up."

Ron rolled his eyes and walked around to the front of the couch, dropping down next to Hermione, who gave him a small smile and picked up his hand.

"What about if McGonagall was in a fight against your mother?" I asked. "Who do you think would win that?"

Everyone in the room seemed to freeze in thought for a moment.

"Ooh, that's tough!" Ginny said. "Why didn't I think of suggesting that one?"

"Mum would win," Fred said confidently.

"I agree," Ron said. "She raised all of us, hasn't she?"

"Yeah, but how many kids and teenagers has McGonagall dealt with?" Harry asked, looking at Ron. "Me, you and Hermione alone gave her more trouble than she deserved. Plus, don't forget about Fred and George."

"Mum has experience with all of us, too," Ron pointed out.

"My point was that McGonagall dealt with all of us, plus some. All of the other students at Hogwarts. She was directly responsible of all of Gryffindor house. She was even at Hogwarts when my dad and his friends were there."

"Valid point," Ron said thoughtfully. "You know, you'd think you'd want to take my mother's side in this, Harry. Considering she's your mother-in-law."

"I have no doubt your mother could kick some serious ass," Harry said. "I was just making a point."

"Mum did kill Bellatrix Lestrange," Fred pointed out. "Called her a bitch and everything."

"She's already got a track record," I added.

"McGonagall called Filch a blithering idiot," Ron said with a slight laugh.

"That was great at the time, but it pales in comparison to Mum," Fred argued.

"McGonagall took down several Death Eaters during the battle," Hermione pointed out. "And then the year prior, she took multiple Stunners to the chest and survived. That would be quite impressive for anyone, but at her age, it was practically a miracle."

"That is true," Fred said slowly. "And besides all of that, I will say...McGonagall telling Peeves the correct way to unscrew that chandelier just to mess with Umbridge was pretty great."

"Speaking of Umbridge," Harry said with a laugh, "one of the times I told her off in class and called her a liar, I was sent McGonagall's office for it. I thought she was going to lecture me about what happened, but instead, she just offered me a biscuit."

A ripple of laughter went through the room at the memory.

"I think I would honestly pay even more money to watch McGonagall and Mum duel than McGonagall and Kingsley," Fred admitted. "That would be so entertaining. But I think I'd ultimately bet on Mum coming out on top, although it would be quite close."

"Excellent, are we making bets? I love a good bet."

The front door had opened and George and Katie were entering the room, sliding out of their coats as we all turned to look at them.

"You don't even know what the bet is," Katie reminded him, passing him her coat so he could hang it up.

"Who'd win in a fight?" Fred asked. "Mum or McGonagall?"

George let out a puff of air as his expression fell slightly. "That's a tough bet. But I'd have to go with Mum."

"I agree," Katie said.

"What about between McGonagall and Kingsley?" Ginny asked, glancing at Ron with a smile as Ron scowled.

"McGonagall, one hundred percent," George replied instantly.

Ginny broke out into a cackle of laughter as Ron's ears turned red.

"Why, who's saying Kingsley?" George asked, perching on the arm of the couch and pulling Katie to him as she rested against his side.

"Ron," Ginny said through her laughter.

"Merlin, Ron, no," George scoffed. "It's McGonagall. Completely."

"Well, Kingsley's technically my boss, you know," Ron said. "I can't have him getting wind that I think McGonagall could kick his ass."

"Well, none of us had considered telling him," Fred said. "But now that you mention it..." he trailed off and looked at Ron thoughtfully as Ron tried to throw a pillow at him. But Fred flicked his wand and caused the pillow to explode into a burst of feathers in mid air before coming back together unscathed and falling back onto the couch. "Nice try, Ron," he laughed. "Haven't learned anything since the time you threw a knife at me, have you?"

"He threw a knife at you?" I asked in an undertone.

Fred nodded. "Yeah-I asked if his ex-girlfriend had something wrong with her head for her to agree to date him."

I scoffed. "Well, that explains it."

Just then, Mrs. Weasley came into the room to let us know that dinner was ready. "Glad to see you two finally made an appearance." She looked at Fred and George with raised eyebrows as we all made our way into the kitchen.

"I was here before George," Fred declared, as if it were something to be extremely proud of. Meanwhile, George pulled a face from over Fred's shoulder, crossing his eyes and puffing out his cheeks.

"Not by much, I'm guessing," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "And you were still late."

"It was Sophie's fault," Fred told her. "She kept trying to kiss me."

I turned to Mrs. Weasley and looked at her in exasperation. "He couldn't find his shoes," I informed her, an edge of annoyance in my voice.

"Ah, of course," Mrs. Weasley answered with a slight smile. "He's still kicking them off every which way the moment he walks in the door, then?"

"Every night," I giggled.

"While I'm not sorry that things like this are no longer my problem," Mrs. Weasley said, "I am sorry that you now have to deal with my son's bad habits. And anything you try to tell him will usually go in one ear and out the other."

"Not me," George said, resting an elbow on Fred's shoulder as he grinned at his mother. "I retain things so much better now. It goes in one ear and stays there. Nowhere else to go."

Fred rolled his eyes as Mrs. Weasley chuckled. "I don't know about that, dear," she said. "But it was a good try."

"He retains nothing," Katie said. "Especially if you try and tell him something while he's distracted thinking about a new invention. He won't listen to a word you say."

"Oh, I know that," Mrs. Weasley laughed. "They won't even listen to a word you say when they aren't working. Sometimes, I think they do it out of spite."

"Not true!" the twins said defensively. When Mrs. Weasley looked at them with raised eyebrows, they smiled.

"Okay, maybe it's a little true," Fred said. "On one or two occasions."

"Or maybe three," George went on.

Mrs. Weasley sighed as I fought back a giggle. "Let's just go sit down for dinner before the food gets cold."

February 1st, 1694. Lynn, Massachusetts

Edward and Julia have found out the truth. The truth about who I really am and who Dorothy really is.

It was on little John's first birthday-only a few days ago. Julia and Edward invited us to join them for a special dinner to celebrate. Julia even baked a strawberry cobbler. Everything was going smoothly, up until the discussion turned to pregnancy.

I had mentioned how quickly the year had flown by since John's birth, but how I was not sure that I was entirely too keen on doing it again. Besides, I did not exactly have the means to do so. My husband was dead and I still could not even consider looking at another man the way I had once looked at him.

"My first pregnancy and delivery were both just awful!" Julia exclaimed with a roll of her eyes. "I must have been insane to do it not only a second time, but a third!"

Julia had three grown children, all of whom lived out of town with their own families.

"Even if I wanted to have more children," I began, shaking my head, "I have lost my husband and although I feel as if my life has calmed down greatly over the last year, it does still feel quite shaken up. Too much so to have more children."

"You have not thought of marrying again after losing your husband?" Edward asked.

"Edward!" Julia chided, sending him a sharp look.

I smiled slightly as I shrugged one shoulder. "I have not," I answered. "Not even once. I loved my husband very much and still sometimes feel as if I am grieving his death too much to move on."

"How was it you said he died?" Edward asked. His tone was gentle and yet I still flinched at the question.

"Edward," Julia sighed, looking at him in exasperation.

"Julia, is it so bad for me to be curious?" Edward asked.

"You are too nosey for your own good," Julia retaliated. "I have told you this many times. She never did tell us about how her husband died. And we never asked because it is rude to pry into such matters."

I took in a slow, deep breath as I thought hard, but quickly, of a lie. I eventually decided on telling them that John had fallen ill. I could say it was yellow fever-it was known to take lives only in severe instances, but it would still be believable.

No sooner had I opened my mouth to offer up this information-however false it may have been-Dorothy spoke up through a mouthful of cobbler.

"The bad man killed him," she said matter-of-factly, her eyes still on her cobbler as she selected a small bite and stuck it into her mouth.

I froze and glanced at Edward and Julia, who were looking at Dorothy in confusion. We had only been here since the beginning of November, nearly three whole months now, and Dorothy still did not speak much to anyone but I. She was becoming more comfortable with Julia and Edward, but having her speak up on her own was still somewhat of a rarity. And now here she was, offering up information she knew she was not supposed to offer up. She had been so good about not doing so. I am not sure what happened. I suppose she just was not thinking. She is still a child after all. And keeping our secrets to ourselves has been difficult, even for me as an adult.

"What bad man?" Julia asked in concern, her head snapping around to look at me. "What is she talking about?"

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, my eyes wide with panic. I did not know how to cover this up. And I suddenly hated the thought of trying to add another lie to the several other ones we had already told. The longer we had stayed here with Julia and Edward, the harder lying to them had become. But I had known we had to. We did not have a choice. And now here we were with our fabricated backstory unraveling and I did not know whether to be relieved or not.

Before I could get a word out, Dorothy chimed in once more.

"The tall, scary man that killed my mama, too," she said. She glanced up at Julia and Edward, who were staring at her in shock, before looking back down at her cobbler. "He shouted at me. In the courtroom. Told me I was the spawn of the devil." She shrugged and took another bite of cobbler.

She had not said much, but it was still apparently enough for Edward and Julia to piece together what she was talking about. I could see the looks of realization dawning over their faces. They knew enough about what happened in Salem to connect the dots.

There were a few seconds of silence after Dorothy's words. A few seconds of silence that felt like hours. And then, Edward looked at me, his eyebrows raised. "When the town officials from Salem came through here, looking for three runaways..." he began, his voice quiet.

I simply nodded.

"And you are one of the accused?" he asked. His tone and expression were still both quiet, but neutral. I could not read him for the life of me.

I nodded again as I closed my eyes and sighed. "My real name is Elizabeth Proctor. My husband was John Proctor. He was accused as well, but did not make it. He was executed a year prior to this past August. My own execution was put off due to my pregnancy." I nodded towards John, sleeping in the bassinet beside me.

"So then this little one is Dorothy Good?" Julia said, speaking up for the first time. She smiled softly and got up from her chair, walking around the table to Dorothy. She crouched down beside her and brushed some hair from the young girls' face. "I have heard a lot about you, my dear," she said, her eyes wandering over Dorothy's face. She was quiet for a moment, her expression stoic as she thought. And then she turned to me, tears brimming in her eyes. "She is just a child," she whispered, "and has gone through more than any child should."

I nodded once more.

"Is it true what they say she did?" Edward asked, looking from Dorothy to me. He seemed to be sizing us up now and his tone was a bit clipped. Dorothy noticed too. She glanced up at him as Julia continued stroking her hair.

"Are you referring to the witchcraft?" I asked. "Or the part about her father winding up dead?"

"Both," Edward answered, holding my gaze. "And that goes for you as well. They had it out for all of you. They sentenced you all to death." He looked at his wife. "Julia, perhaps you should not get too close."

"Oh, nonsense," Julia scoffed, continuing to stroke Dorothy's hair.

I frowned as I looked over at Edward. "I understand you need to protect your family. I have done nothing but try to protect myself, my son, and Dorothy for well over a year now. I understand. But no, we are not the evil people that we have been accused of being."

"So the child did not kill her own father?" Edward asked, raising an eyebrow.

I hesitated. "It is quite complicated."

"And I am not inept," Edward fired back. "I am quite capable of understanding many things of various complexity." He raised his eyebrows again, his expression challenging me.

I glanced at Dorothy, who was suddenly even more enthralled with her cobbler and had fallen silent. I sighed and turned back to Edward. "It was very much accidental. She did not know what she was doing." I hesitated. "If you are going to understand what happened, how it happened and why it happened, I fear I am going to have to tell you the entire story in quite a bit of detail. There is no other way for me to impress upon you that we have been the victims here from the start."

Edward and Julia looked at each other for a moment, silently communicating their thoughts. Julia nodded her head and Edward turned to me. "Go on, then," he said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Start from the beginning."

I nodded and took in a deep breath. And then I began to tell my story-out loud, at least-for the very first time.