Chapter 1

May 1912

Spring had fully sprung now that they were approaching the middle of May, yet the cold didn't not seem to leave her body. Every gust of wind pierced through her bones like sharp knives, the droplets of rain falling onto her skin like needles. It was late at night, dark, and the road did not seem to end. Being in a place so quiet at this time of day came closer to a nightmare than the comfortable dream she had been told about.

Maureen spoke of her hometown with such warmth and delight that it almost sounded as if she regretted moving to London to work as a ladies maid for one of the richest families of England. But there were things that Chippewa Falls could not give her: a clearer vision of her future, which she would often forget. It wasn't until she would have visited her dying mother she was to going realize London was in fact a better option. Nevertheless, now it was Maureen who was dead.

In the month that passed, Maureen haunted Rose's days from morning till night. Her sturdy yet delicate voice imprinted in her mind. In the four days they had known each other, they had become inseparable. Maureen would sneak up to the first-class decks, wearing the most 'fashionable' hat she owned as if it were any help in disguising her true identity. The dark blue woollen skirt and red checkered blouse gave away that she did not belong up there and was to remain with the rest of steerage. Rose, in fact, did notice people giving them disapproving glances as they strutted by and now she often wondered if Maureen had noticed it too. Despite it being true or not, the young woman from a small town in The States held her head up high, unfazed by the spying eyes around them.

As her friend's voice echoed through her mind, Rose tried her hardest to keep herself focused on the road in front of her, but with every step she took it felt as if the rain came down even harder. She could now feel a puddle under her feet, her coat soaking wet and it was starting to get heavy, pushing on her shoulders and back. Suddenly, a carriage rushed past her and carried on for a few more feet until it came to a halt. Rose stopped too, squinted her eyes and noticed a shadow jumping off into a large puddle. It was a man, tall and broad, making his way towards her. Taking a step back, Rose pulled her coat tight around her body as if it would help to protect her for whatever was about to happen.

"Miss, I mean no harm," The man spoke as he noticed her fright, "What are you doing here at night all by yourself in this weather?"

"I am fine, thank you." Rose said back with a stiff tone.

"Are you waiting for someone?"

"Please, sir, I am fine. I just need to be somewhere. Do you perhaps know a hotel or anywhere I can stay for the night?"

"The only place you can stay is on the other side of town and they are closed for construction up until the fall."

Rose felt her stomach drop. She had now officially come to the point where she had to sleep on the street. She wanted to drop down to her knees, accepting the consequence of her own decisions. She was too tired to move any further.

"Listen," the man then continued as he noticed the despair in her eyes, "I can offer you a place to sleep for tonight. I live just outside the town with my wife and son."

A silence fell between the loud rumble of the rain. Rose bit her lip, scanning the stranger that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. In the past month, she mad met a variety of people, majority of them with bad intentions rather than good. She was the perfect target: a young woman with no comprehension of the 'real' world. Yet, this man did have a kindness in his eyes she had not seen in a very long time. His dark curls stuck against the side of his face and he tried to push it back.

As if he could hear her inner thoughts, the man continued: "Listen, I can understand your hesitation, miss; I'm am nothing but a strange man in the night, but I cannot leave without knowing you'll be all right. You'll catch your death if you stay here."

Rose scoffed. "You don't know anything about that, sir."

"You are right, miss. There are many things I don't know nothing about." He then took her suitcase out of her hand, his gesture gentle but firm and Rose couldn't argue any further. Before truly realizing what was going on, she was sitting next to him in the carriage on their way to god knows where.

"My name is Mark, by the way. Mark Davison."

The front door creaked as Mark pushed it open, the wind whipping through the entryway. Sarah rushed toward him, her face etched with concern. The storm outside had worsened, and she had been pacing the living room, worrying that her husband had gotten stuck somewhere with the carriage.

"Mark! What took you so long?" she exclaimed, wiping her hands on her apron, her eyes scanning him for any signs of trouble. But then, her gaze shifted to the figure standing next to him, drenched and shivering in the cold. The young woman looked fragile, her clothes soaked through from the rain, hair clinging to her pale face. Her eyes, wide and unsure, darted between Mark and Sarah as she hugged her arms to herself for warmth.

"This is Rose Williams," Mark said, his voice soft but firm, his hand resting gently on the woman's shoulder. "I found her walking along the road in this storm. She needs a place to stay for the night."

Sarah's worry immediately shifted from Mark to the stranger. Her heart ached at the sight of the girl, trembling from the cold and soaked to the bone. Without hesitation, she nodded, her voice gentle with compassion.

"Of course, she does," Sarah said, stepping forward and placing a hand on Rose's arm. "Come inside, dear. You must be freezing." She guided Rose through the doorway, not waiting for an answer.

The warmth of the house enveloped Rose as she stepped into the hallway, her eyes wide with gratitude but also embarrassment. She looked down at her soaked boots, the muddy water pooling on the wooden floor.

"I'm so sorry for the trouble," Rose murmured, her voice barely a whisper as she stood just inside the door, clearly uncomfortable with her unexpected intrusion.

"Nonsense," Sarah said quickly, already pulling a blanket from the chair by the fire. She wrapped it around Rose's shoulders, the heavy wool instantly offering warmth. "You'll catch your death if you stay out in this weather. You're no trouble at all."

Mark closed the door behind them, shaking off the rain from his coat as he hung it on the hook by the door. He met Sarah's eyes briefly, the unspoken understanding passing between them. They had always offered kindness to strangers in need, and tonight was no different.

"Let me get you some dry clothes," Sarah said, moving toward the stairs. "And we'll heat you up some soup. Mark, get a fire going, would you?"

Rose shook her head, trying to protest, but the exhaustion in her face betrayed her. "I don't want to be a bother."

"Bother?" Mark chuckled as he started stacking wood in the hearth. "We'd be more bothered if we left you out in that storm."

Sarah returned quickly with a set of her own clothes, holding them out to Rose. "These might be a bit big, but they'll do for now. There's a washroom just down the hall. Take your time."

Rose took the clothes with trembling hands, her eyes filling with gratitude. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. Then, as if she couldn't hold back the emotion any longer, she quickly turned and hurried to the washroom to change.

As Rose disappeared down the hallway, Sarah and Mark exchanged a glance. "Where do you think she came from?" Sarah asked quietly, her brow furrowing with concern.

"I didn't ask," Mark replied, poking at the fire, watching as the flames began to grow. "She didn't say much, just asked if there was anywhere nearby she could shelter from the storm. Figured we couldn't just leave her."

Sarah nodded, her heart heavy with a sense of unease, but she pushed it aside. Whoever Rose was, wherever she came from, she was here now. And right now, she needed help. A few minutes later, Rose emerged from the washroom, dressed in the dry clothes Sarah had given her. She looked more at ease, but the exhaustion was still evident on her face.

"Come sit by the fire," Sarah said warmly, motioning to the chair near the hearth. "I'll get you some soup."

Rose moved toward the fire, sinking into the chair with a deep sigh. The warmth of the flames began to chase away the last of the cold that had seeped into her bones. She looked up at Mark and Sarah, her eyes filled with gratitude she couldn't quite express.

"I don't know how to thank you," Rose said softly, her voice still shaky from the cold and perhaps something deeper.

"You don't need to thank us," Sarah replied gently, placing a steaming bowl of soup in front of her. "Just rest, Rose. You're safe here."

Rose nodded, the words of comfort wrapping around her like the warmth of the fire. For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to breathe.

Rose sat quietly by the fire, her hands wrapped around the warm bowl of soup as if grounding herself in its heat. The tension in her shoulders slowly started to melt, though the unease that lingered in her eyes never fully disappeared. She took small sips, her mind far away, her thoughts clearly racing despite the quiet comfort of the home she now found herself in.

Sarah watched her for a moment from the kitchen, the way Rose's fingers trembled slightly as she held the bowl, the way her gaze would flicker to the window as if expecting someone to appear at any moment. Sarah's heart ached for her, but she knew better than to push for answers. Not yet.

Mark was by the door, cleaning the mud from his boots, when he finally broke the silence.

"Do you have family, Rose? Someone we could contact?"

Rose froze, her grip on the bowl tightening for a moment. She stared into the soup, her voice barely a whisper when she answered. "No. No one."

Sarah, sensing the pain behind her words, stepped forward quickly, placing a gentle hand on Mark's arm. "She's been through enough for one night," she said quietly, giving him a look that told him to back off.

Mark nodded, glancing toward Rose. "I didn't mean to pry."

Rose shook her head, offering a small, sad smile. "It's all right."

The storm outside continued to rage, the rain tapping insistently against the windows. The warmth of the fire filled the room, but the tension still lingered, an unspoken weight hanging between them all. Eventually, Sarah broke the silence again, her voice soft and inviting. "You can stay here as long as you need, Rose. We have a guest room upstairs. You're safe."

Rose's eyes met Sarah's then, and for a moment, something in her expression softened. It was as if the offer of safety, of a home even if temporary, was something she hadn't expected—or perhaps hadn't known she needed. She swallowed, nodding slowly.

"Thank you," she whispered again, her voice fragile but sincere. "I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't found me."

Mark gave a small, reassuring smile. "You don't have to worry about that now."

As the evening grew late, Sarah showed Rose upstairs to the small guest room. It was simple but cozy, with a soft bed and a window that overlooked the fields. Rose stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the space, a strange mix of gratitude and hesitation in her eyes.

"If you need anything, we're just down the hall," Sarah said gently, watching Rose with the same concern she'd had all evening.

Rose nodded, her lips pressed together in a faint smile, but the worry never left her eyes. "I'm fine. Really," she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

After Sarah left, Rose stood in the center of the room, staring out the window as the rain continued to pour outside. Her hands shook slightly as she finally set her small suitcase down on the floor, opening it carefully. Inside, there was hardly anything—just a few pieces of clothing and something wrapped in a silk handkerchief. Suddenly, a light knock on the door broke through her thoughts. She quickly shoved the handkerchief further into her suitcase, turning just as Sarah peeked her head in.

"I brought you an extra blanket. It gets chilly at night."

Rose nodded quickly, forcing a smile. Sarah hesitated for a moment longer, her motherly instincts telling her something was off, but she didn't push. Instead, she placed the blanket on the bed and offered one last comforting smile before turning to leave.

"Goodnight, Rose. Sleep well."

Rose whispered a quiet "goodnight" as Sarah left, but the moment the door closed, her shoulders slumped, and the exhaustion she had been holding at bay finally overwhelmed her. She sat down on the edge of the bed, staring blankly ahead. Though she had found shelter for the night, the storm within her mind showed no signs of calming. She knew that, when the morning would come, she had to face her rescuers once again, possibly needing to give them an explanation why she is here. No one would visit a place like this despite having a proper reason for it. Even in the darkness, Rose had noticed that Chippewa Falls was a city people rather fled than visit. It was a commitment only to satisfy the haunting voice of Maureen. In a big city she could have easily disappeared; a lost soul among many others. No one would care or even notice. As Rose finally managed to fall into a slumber, she was sure this was a mistake.

The loud knock on the door startled Rose from a restless sleep. She opened her eyes to find the faint light of morning filtering through the small window. The events of the previous day felt distant, like a fading dream, but the ache of uncertainty remained. She sat up slowly, pushing her tangled hair away from her face.

"Rose?" came Sarah's soft voice through the door. "Are you awake?"

"Yes," Rose replied, her voice hoarse.

The door opened gently, and Sarah entered with a warm smile, holding a cup of tea. "I brought you something to help you start the day. Breakfast is downstairs if you'd like."

Rose took the cup with a nod of thanks. Sarah's kindness was overwhelming in its simplicity, and for a brief moment, Rose felt a pang of guilt. She wasn't being honest with these people, yet they had offered her shelter without hesitation.

"I'll be down in a moment," Rose said, managing a small smile.

After Sarah left, Rose took a long sip of the tea, feeling the warmth spread through her, easing the tightness in her chest. She dressed in the simple clothes Sarah had given her the night before, and when she was ready, she headed downstairs to the kitchen. The table was laid out with an array of simple but hearty food—fresh bread, oatmeal, eggs. The sight of it brought a sense of comfort that Rose hadn't realized she needed. Sarah sat at the table, reading through a letter, and Mark was nowhere to be seen.

"Mark's off to the fields," Sarah said, as if reading her thoughts. "He'll be back later, but for now, it's just us." She gestured to the chair opposite her. "Come, eat."

Rose sat down, reaching for a piece of bread, the silence between them stretching out. For a while, they ate quietly, only the sound of the house and the world outside filling the air. It wasn't uncomfortable, but there was an unspoken tension between them—a sense that there was more to be said.

Finally, Sarah broke the silence, her voice gentle. "Rose, can I ask you something?"

Rose looked up from her plate, her stomach tightening. "Of course."

Sarah hesitated, as if choosing her words carefully. "What are you doing in a small place like this? You don't seem like someone who belongs in the middle of nowhere."

Rose felt her throat constrict. This was it. She could feel Sarah's gaze on her, kind but curious, waiting for her to respond. Rose shifted in her seat, glancing down at the table. She couldn't tell Sarah the truth—not about faking her death, not about the life she had fled. Another lie seemed the only way forward, but even that weighed heavily on her.

"I… I was offered a job," Rose began, her voice steady, though her mind raced to construct the story. "As a laundress, just outside of town. But when I got there, they'd already given the position to someone else."

Sarah frowned slightly, her brow furrowing in concern. "That's unfortunate," she said, her tone sympathetic. "So what will you do now?"

Rose shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, "I suppose I'll find another job," she said. "I don't really have a plan."

Sarah studied her for a moment, as if trying to see past the vague answers. "Well, there aren't many jobs around here, but I'm sure we can help you find something. You can stay here until you get back on your feet."

Just as she was about to dismiss her proposal, Rose came to the notion that all the money Cal had left inside that coat was nearly gone. It wouldn't even be enough to buy herself a train ticket. The other option weighed as heavy on her heart as in her suitcase. The secrecy of her identity was at risk.

"That it very kind of you, ma'am."

Another smile of sympathy spread across Sarah's face and as she stood up from the table, Rose noticed the bump underneath her close.

Later that morning, Sarah stepped out of the house and made her way toward the stables, where Mark was busy tending to the horses. The smell of hay and earth greeted her as she entered the wide barn, its cool shade a welcome break from the sun. Mark glanced up from brushing down one of the horses, his brow damp with sweat, but he smiled when he saw his wife approaching.

"How's Rose doing?" he asked, wiping his hands on a rag as he moved toward her.

Sarah paused for a moment, leaning against the barn door and folding her arms across her chest. "She seems fine, considering everything. I think she's been through more than she lets on, though." She hesitated before continuing, her thoughts churning. "I've been thinking, Mark… I like her. She looks like a hard worker, and she seems decent enough. And with the baby coming in two months… well, we could use an extra pair of hands around here, don't you think?"

Mark's expression softened as he looked at Sarah, knowing how much she was trying to manage despite her own struggles. Her health had been fragile throughout the pregnancy, and though she rarely complained, he could see the toll it was taking on her.

"I've been thinking the same thing," Mark said, nodding in agreement. "You've been pushing yourself too hard, and we're going to need more help soon. But you're sure about this girl? We don't know much about her."

Sarah sighed, glancing toward the house as if she could still feel Rose's quiet presence inside. "I know we don't, but there's something about her, Mark. I don't know why, but I trust her. I've seen the way she holds herself—like she's carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Maybe she's running from something, or maybe she's just had a rough time of it, but she seems honest. And she's alone."