Free Winter's Dream (The Hemlock Bay Series) by Amber Jaeger

peg by the back door. Confused, Minnie grabbed one as well and followed her out. Eager to plot out any potential escape routes, I followed too.
    Standing behind the house I could see how big the property really was. Besides the barn, there were several smaller buildings. Rows of frozen, upturned dirt marched all the way back to the tree line I could barely make out. Martha made her way to a little shed off the side of the barn.
    “What are you doing?” Minnie asked nervously.
    “She’s getting our dinner?” I squeaked, hoping it wasn’t currently alive.
    Thankfully the shed Martha ducked into was just that—a shed. We followed her into the small, low ceilinged room and along the wall were two large freezers and one refrigerator. She pulled a large covered dish from the fridge and shut it with her hip.
    Seeing Minnie’s face, she asked, “What?”
    Minnie gave a strangled laugh and I struggled not to echo her. “Nothing, I just thought you were going to actually come out here and chop off some chicken’s head.”
    Martha gave a trilling little laugh and shook her blonde hair back. “Heavens no, it’s not worth it to butcher just one chicken at a time. No, I did all that this morning.”
    Minnie’s face blanched and I bit back a laugh.
    Back inside the warm kitchen, Minnie was a little less enthusiastic to help with dinner. “You can peel the carrots,” I said, handing her a peeler. “They don’t have feelings.”
    “Very funny,” she mumbled.
    Martha pulled her hair back in pale pink ribbon and hummed as she washed her hands. It was jarring to see the sweet girl pull out a knife as long as her forearm and masterfully begin butchering the chicken.
    “What are you going to make?” I asked, unable to pull my eyes from the carcass.
    Her knife hovered over the joint between the leg and the body and she chopped down. The crunch of the cartilage made me jump. She eyed the other leg joint and chopped again before answering. “Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and carrot slaw. I already made the apple pies and we have biscuits left over from this morning.” She lined up her knife with the breastbone of the chicken, steadied it with her other hand and hopped up to press down with her whole body.
    “Wow, you really are a Martha,” I said under my breath.
    She was quick and efficient in the kitchen, cleaning up messes and throwing away garbage and washing dishes as she worked. I hoped she wasn’t used to working in silence because Minnie wasn’t going to let her have any.
    “So how come you’re here?” was her first question.
    Martha looked up from adding shortening to a cast iron skillet. The question the question seemed to make her uncomfortable but she was too polite not to answer. “Oh, um, my mom died when I was quite young. I didn’t have any other family from my mom’s side.”
    “What about your dad? Or his family?” I couldn’t help but notice how Minnie said the word “dad” as if it were four letters instead of only three.
    Martha shook her head. “Dad knew my mom wanted me with her family. I see him sometimes.”
    The potato I was peeling squeaked out of my hand. “Are you serious?” I asked. “You had to come here away from your dad just because of the whole dream—”
    Martha cut me off with a panicked look and jabbed her wooden spoon in Minnie’s direction.
    I stopped myself from rolling my eyes but couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “Is he not a good dad or something?”
    “Yeah, is he not good?” Minnie echoed with haunted eyes. My heart hurt for her.
    “No, he’s fine,” Martha said, not catching our dark undertones. She paused to adjust the burner under her skillet, seemingly unaware of how important our question was. “He just works a lot and has a lot of responsibilities. Plus he lives in Lansing and if I lived with him it would be in the city and that would be terrible.”
    Hemlock Bay was more of a town than a city but I still took slight offense at her words. “What