Chapter 1 - Gretchen

May 1907

It's twilight.

From my bedroom window, I can see the sky over the water, a purplish-blue. The first stars dot the clouds, pinpricks of white light shining through the darkness.

It's 8:00. Nearly time for bed, after a considerable amount of reading, of course. I've already changed into my nightdress, and am sitting in bed when something hits my window.

I sit up, straight as a board. A million possibilities run through my head, from thieves to pirates, before something else hits my window. A pebble, just lightly enough to get my attention without breaking the glass.

I run to the window, pressing my fingertips to the glass pane. To hell with the fingerprints!

And there he is, on the grass outside. Miles, tall and dashing, dressed in work clothes. A buttoned shirt, thick pants, suspenders, and durable rubber boots. He may have just come from the docks, I'm not sure, but I smile at him, and indicate that I'm coming downstairs.

We meet outside, and he embraces me warmly. "Gretchen."

"Miles." I breathe back, hugging him tighter. "My God, shouldn't you be at home? Resting up for tomorrow?" I ask.

Miles chuckles. "Well, I couldn't leave without saying goodbye."

"We'll be there to see you off in the morning!" I argue, trying not to smile.

"That's not quite what I meant;" Miles says with a grin. "Come on, let's head down to the beach!"

We run down the dirt road, my bare feet and his boots kicking up dust as we did so. After a few minutes, we reached the beach, and slowed to a walking pace.

"I'm going to miss you, Gretchen;" Miles says sadly.

I take his hand. "Think of it this way. You wish to marry me, but I'm not old enough yet to be engaged. But I'll be sixteen by the time you get back. And I'll wait for you;" I insist.

Miles rubs my hand between his thumb and forefinger absentmindedly. "And I'll be eighteen, too. It's so long, a whole year away from you, and this place..."

"This place will be the same when you return;" I say, laying my head on his shoulder, "as will I."