Chapter 7: The Summer of 1867

As Mr. Wright began scratching equations onto the board, the sound of the chalk transformed. It became the sound of a carriage on a cobblestone path. The sterile room faded, replaced by the humid, honeysuckle-drenched air of Lexington, Virginia.

Noah was seventeen again. His skin was warm. His heart was a drum. He was human, and the world was full of light.

"So, who is the new family that just moved into the old manor, Father?"

Noah stood in the parlor of his family home. His father, Duncan, was adjusting his spectacles, while his mother, Agnes, smoothed the skirts of her gown.

"The Pierce family," Duncan answered. "A tragedy, really. Just two sisters left. Their mother taken by the fever, their father lost at Gettysburg. The eldest is a resilient thing—raised the younger one since they were children."

"Two sisters?" Noah asked, leaning against the doorframe. At seventeen, he was shy, his voice still finding its permanent anchor.

"I've invited them for dinner tonight," Duncan warned, pointing a finger at Noah. "I expect you to look your absolute best. First impressions in Lexington are everything, young man."

"You know he will, Duncan," Agnes laughed, reaching out to ruffle Noah’s hair. "He’s the most polite boy in the county. Though a bit more confidence wouldn't hurt him."

Noah remembered that boy—the one who blushed when girls looked at him, the one who dreamed of being a poet or a scholar. He was pure. He was innocent. He didn't know that by the end of the year, he would be a graveyard inhabitant.