standing beside the car. Then her gaze
traveled through the windshield and settled on Tess. Tess met Edith’s gaze with trepidation,
expecting a glare or an outburst. Edith blinked at her from behind her glasses, with
absolutely no sign of recognition in her eyes. Then she hung her pocketbook over her
forearm and gazed patiently at the general store, as if she were waiting for someone
to emerge.
She doesn’t even know me, Tess thought, with amazement and relief. She doesn’t recognize
me at all. How could she not know me? Tess wondered. And then, in the same moment,
she realized that for Lazarus’s mother, Tess was frozen in time. Forever a nine-year-old
girl, pointing to her son in a courtroom and calling him a killer. And in all the
commotion at the governor’s press conference yesterday, Tess must have been just another
face in the crowd to Edith. However she might feel about the child who had accused
her son, Edith Abbott did not connect her with Tess, the woman she had gazed at through
the windshield. That realization came as a welcome reprieve.
Feeling as if she had dodged a bullet, Tess took a deep breath and pressed the button
on the driver’s side to unlock the car door. Erny opened his door to get inside. Tess
put the key in the ignition and waited for Erny to slide in. Suddenly a man’s voice
called out. “Hey. You there.”
Erny, who had one foot in the car, looked up, surprised.
Nelson Abbott had come out of the general store, a roll of burlap under his arm and
was walking toward his wife. His gaze had traveled from Erny to Tess, who was behind
the wheel. “Tess DeGraff.”
At the sound of the familiar name, Edith Abbott began to look around, confused. Nelson
pointed at the car and Edith peered in at Tess with a dawning recognition in her eyes.
Tess’s heart sank. “Who is that?” Edith Abbott asked.
“This is her. The one who testified against Lazarus,” said Nelson.
The older woman’s eyes widened and she clutched Nelson’s arm.
“What do they want?” Erny asked.
“Just get in the car,” said Tess, opening her door and sliding out.
“No, Mom,” said Erny anxiously. “Get back in.”
“I need to talk to these people,” she said.
“Why?” he pleaded.
“I’ll tell you later.”
“You should tell him,” Nelson advised her. “Tell him what you did.” Tess did not reply.
She understood instantly that the bitterness in Nelson Abbott’s eyes was now focused
on her. He was no longer sympathetic, as he had been when he came to the inn the evening
before the press conference to express support for her family.
Tess spoke quietly to Nelson. “Look, I don’t think this is necessarily the time or
place, but I really would like to sit down with you both—” she said.
Nelson sneered at her. “And say what? How sorry you are?” Nelson peered at her through
cold, black eyes. “My stepson was executed because of you.”
“All I did was…I tried to tell the truth,” Tess protested.
“Did you hear what those results said yesterday? Lazarus didn’t do it. You really
don’t want to own up to what you did, do ya?” Nelson said, shaking his head.
Tess was trembling. “Excuse me, but didn’t you tell us that even you thought…?”
Nelson’s beady eyes flashed at her, warning her not to complete that sentence. He
began to speak, drowning out her words. “The facts have changed everything.”
Edith, still clinging to Nelson’s arm, cocked her head and looked at Tess sadly. “Why
did you say those things about my son?” Edith asked in a tremulous voice. “You didn’t
have to do that. I know someone took your sister, but why did you have to blame my
Lazarus?”
Tess turned to Edith. She still didn’t know what to say to this aggrieved mother.
But there was no escaping her questions. “Mrs. Abbott, I have wanted to speak to you
about all this. I’m sure you blame me for what happened to your
traveled through the windshield and settled on Tess. Tess met Edith’s gaze with trepidation,
expecting a glare or an outburst. Edith blinked at her from behind her glasses, with
absolutely no sign of recognition in her eyes. Then she hung her pocketbook over her
forearm and gazed patiently at the general store, as if she were waiting for someone
to emerge.
She doesn’t even know me, Tess thought, with amazement and relief. She doesn’t recognize
me at all. How could she not know me? Tess wondered. And then, in the same moment,
she realized that for Lazarus’s mother, Tess was frozen in time. Forever a nine-year-old
girl, pointing to her son in a courtroom and calling him a killer. And in all the
commotion at the governor’s press conference yesterday, Tess must have been just another
face in the crowd to Edith. However she might feel about the child who had accused
her son, Edith Abbott did not connect her with Tess, the woman she had gazed at through
the windshield. That realization came as a welcome reprieve.
Feeling as if she had dodged a bullet, Tess took a deep breath and pressed the button
on the driver’s side to unlock the car door. Erny opened his door to get inside. Tess
put the key in the ignition and waited for Erny to slide in. Suddenly a man’s voice
called out. “Hey. You there.”
Erny, who had one foot in the car, looked up, surprised.
Nelson Abbott had come out of the general store, a roll of burlap under his arm and
was walking toward his wife. His gaze had traveled from Erny to Tess, who was behind
the wheel. “Tess DeGraff.”
At the sound of the familiar name, Edith Abbott began to look around, confused. Nelson
pointed at the car and Edith peered in at Tess with a dawning recognition in her eyes.
Tess’s heart sank. “Who is that?” Edith Abbott asked.
“This is her. The one who testified against Lazarus,” said Nelson.
The older woman’s eyes widened and she clutched Nelson’s arm.
“What do they want?” Erny asked.
“Just get in the car,” said Tess, opening her door and sliding out.
“No, Mom,” said Erny anxiously. “Get back in.”
“I need to talk to these people,” she said.
“Why?” he pleaded.
“I’ll tell you later.”
“You should tell him,” Nelson advised her. “Tell him what you did.” Tess did not reply.
She understood instantly that the bitterness in Nelson Abbott’s eyes was now focused
on her. He was no longer sympathetic, as he had been when he came to the inn the evening
before the press conference to express support for her family.
Tess spoke quietly to Nelson. “Look, I don’t think this is necessarily the time or
place, but I really would like to sit down with you both—” she said.
Nelson sneered at her. “And say what? How sorry you are?” Nelson peered at her through
cold, black eyes. “My stepson was executed because of you.”
“All I did was…I tried to tell the truth,” Tess protested.
“Did you hear what those results said yesterday? Lazarus didn’t do it. You really
don’t want to own up to what you did, do ya?” Nelson said, shaking his head.
Tess was trembling. “Excuse me, but didn’t you tell us that even you thought…?”
Nelson’s beady eyes flashed at her, warning her not to complete that sentence. He
began to speak, drowning out her words. “The facts have changed everything.”
Edith, still clinging to Nelson’s arm, cocked her head and looked at Tess sadly. “Why
did you say those things about my son?” Edith asked in a tremulous voice. “You didn’t
have to do that. I know someone took your sister, but why did you have to blame my
Lazarus?”
Tess turned to Edith. She still didn’t know what to say to this aggrieved mother.
But there was no escaping her questions. “Mrs. Abbott, I have wanted to speak to you
about all this. I’m sure you blame me for what happened to your
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