Lying for love is never easy, but sometimes it's necessary.
The Ackermans are about to lose their farm...
They have no hope. No money. Nothing left to lose except each other.
When Sarah discovers that her youngest sister, Carrie, is planning to beco...
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Valley Glen, Indiana,
1868
"Fire!"
Sarah opened her eyes, blinking at the black night around her as her eyes tried to adjust. She yawned and stretched her hands high over her head. Someone had just been yelling at her in her dreams. She couldn't remember what the voice had said, but it had frightened her enough to wake her up.
She looked around the bedroom she shared with her sisters just to make sure all was as it should be. She could not shake her uneasy feeling. The wooden shutters stood open to let in a cool breeze, just as her parents had left them before saying goodnight. Their father had taken the time this evening to tell them a bedtime story. The one about the hare and the tortoise. It was a favorite of her youngest sister's. They had all fallen asleep not long after.
Their parents were not wealthy by any means, but their father had spent a dozen years building up this farmhouse so that it was more than just a few sticks held together with mud. Each of the children had their own bed, despite having to share one room. Many of the farm girls Sarah knew were envious of her situation. She was proud of her father, who had built everything by his own hand.
Sarah's nose wrinkled as an unidentified smell hit her nostrils. She let out a slight cough and realized something was very wrong.
The breeze coming through the window seemed to be warming the room instead of cooling it. Their room was sweltering. Their room was also lighter than it should have been. The night sky was still dark; she could see it clearly through their window. It must have been well after midnight. Yet their bedroom was bright, as if a soft candle glow was coming in from under their door, filling it.
"Fire!" a voice shouted, and Sarah recognized it as the voice from her dreams. Only she was not dreaming.
"Tom?" she asked, crinkling her forehead. She must have misheard him. Perhaps he was dreaming, too, calling out from a nightmare from which he could not wake. There was certainly no fire here. She was in her bed, as were her sisters. Their parents were across the house in their own room. If there was a fire, then she would see flames. Their parents would be running to put it out, to wake them and carry them outside.
The bedroom door suddenly swung wide, and their oldest brother Tom ran inside. He grabbed Sarah's covers and pulled them off. Sarah squealed and curled her legs to her chest. She was still in her nightdress.
"Tom!" she yelled. "What are you—"
"Get up," he yelled at her. He turned toward the beds her sisters occupied. "Carrie! Harriet! Get up!" He pulled the covers off each of them in turn.
Harriet raised herself up on her elbows and looked at Tom. Carrie rubbed at her eyes, her thumb pink and wet from where she'd been sucking on it. It was a bad habit their mother was still trying to break her of.
