Whisper Falls by Elizabeth Langston Read Free Book Online

a shorter version of hello’? Perhaps it was a new greeting they used in our state capital. “Hey.”
    He extended his fingers to the waterfall, but couldn’t pierce it. Withdrawing his hand, he met my gaze. “Are you real?”
    â€œI believe so.”
    â€œWill your hand go through the water?”
    â€œI shall try.”
    Creeping as close as I dared to the rock’s edge, I held my fingers under the flow. It was the same as Monday. A warm glove bubbled around my hand. For yet another meeting, the falls would serve as a barrier between us, as surely as if they were made of liquid glass. It was a reassuring prospect, for now.
    â€œOkay, I have some questions for you.” From his pocket, he drew out a flat piece of black slate, no bigger than a folded letter. He stared at it with a frown. “Who is the current governor of North Carolina?”
    â€œMr. Ashe.”
    â€œWhen was North Carolina admitted to the Union?”
    â€œI was eleven. 1789, perhaps.”
    He nodded. “How many states are there?”
    â€œFifteen.”
    â€œSixteen.” His gaze flicked up to meet mine. “Tennessee was admitted in 1796.”
    â€œI have not heard this news.”
    He touched the slate. “Yeah, it was admitted on…June first.”
    â€œAnd today is June third.”
    â€œRight.” His lips twitched. “News travels much faster in my world.” He slipped the slate into his pocket. “I’m glad you showed up.”
    His statement filled me with a pleasant glow, even as I marveled at its honesty. In my village, people rarely spoke so openly. I never did. A frank opinion could become a weapon in the wrong hands.
    It must be quite lovely to say whatever he wished without caution. I wanted to try. “Do you truly accept that we are separated by over two hundred years?”
    â€œIt’s either that, or someone slipped me some really good drugs.” He studied the falls, starting at its top, along its arching path to the creek below. “Nobody I know could’ve passed that quiz. It was too random. I don’t think we have the technology to fake the water—not yet, anyway. And I’m pretty sure I’m not crazy. So I’ll just have to go with ‘Whisper Falls is a portal to the past.’ For now.”
    His words made no sense. This undoubtedly strengthened his case. I gave him a nod. “I want you to be real. Therefore, I shall question no more.”
    â€œI like your logic.” He laughed. “Do you come here every night?”
    â€œAs often as my master permits.”
    â€œYour master?” His eyes narrowed. “Are you a slave?”
    â€œIndeed not.” How curious. He knew little about our laborers if he could mistake me for a slave. “I am bound.”
    â€œWhat does bound mean?”
    Even more curious. Perhaps they no longer bound children when he lived. “I’m an indentured servant.”
    He looked down, as if to ponder the tips of his odd black shoes. “Indentured? I thought that was only for criminals.”
    Did he think me a criminal? The comment prickled. I couldn’t let it pass. “No, indeed. Indentures are for anyone who…” I paused. Indentures were a common way for parents to reduce the number of children in their household. My stepfather had had no interest in the expense of feeding me. Five months after their wedding, my mother’s husband bound me to the Pratts. It was one of the last things he ever did, for shortly thereafter my stepfather died. It would embarrass me to admit to this gentleman that my mother had married someone who gave me away. “An indenture may be signed for anyone who wishes to learn a trade.”
    â€œLike an apprentice?”
    â€œIndeed.”
    â€œWhat trade are you in?”
    â€œHousewifery.”
    His brow creased. “Why did you choose that?”
    â€œMr. Crawford, my stepfather, chose for