An Unexpected Sin Read Online Free Page A

the true price could not be measured.
    Or could it? The cost had been Samuel’s life.
    The streets of Salem Town remained empty until just before dawn, at which point the area around the docks began to wake from its nighttime slumber. Josiah slipped away from his resting spot and walked until he spotted an open shop, where he went inside and inquired as to the whereabouts of the Scudder Inn. The elderly proprietor barely glanced at Josiah before indicating an establishment across town, far from the waterfront.
    Not surprising they would want to keep their distance from the sea.
    The walk took several minutes, and with each step his reflection seemed to gnaw deeper at his conscience. He passed a number of establishments before coming upon the Scudders’, a generous, box-like two story building comprised of aged wood and little else. A man Josiah faintly recognized to be Anne’s father stood outside struggling with a board when Josiah approached. Settling his hat further on his head, Josiah asked, “Can I help you, sir?”
    George Scudder—Josiah was sure now of his identity—looked up and spent several endless moments studying Josiah’s face.
    Though he withered inside, Josiah fought to keep his expression neutral. He had been just a lad the last time he had seen the Scudders. And a great deal had changed since then. Josiah now stood two heads taller and had long lost the lankiness of boyhood. His hair, once light, had deepened to brown. But still, the pendulum swung tightly. Even if George Scudder did not recognize him now, Josiah’s name might ring a painful bell, bringing forth memories and associations best left silent.
    Stomach tight, Josiah removed his hat and addressed him once more. “I hear you need a hired man.”
    After a long, expressionless appraisal, Goodman Scudder nodded. “I do. My hands grow weak. Things come more difficult to me now. Pay’s no good, though.”
    Josiah knew he could not win Anne’s hand without a good wage, but his desire to be near her overtook his sensibilities. The opportunity was one he could not deny. “I need only a place to reside. And my hands are in fine working condition.”
    “What’s your name, son?”
    “Josiah.” A common name, but common enough? Despite a conscious effort to relax, his breath caught.
    The old man’s eyes dimmed. The name surely triggered his memory, but would recognition end with the name, or would it extend to the person standing before him? After another endless moment, Goodman Scudder spoke. “Well, then, Josiah. If you can fix this loose plank and have the wherewithal to see to a great many more, you may consider yourself hired on.”
    “Yes, sir.” Heart racing with unspent adrenaline, Josiah knelt on the ground and easily fit the board back into place.
    When he stood, he did so under fierce scrutiny from Anne’s father.
    Josiah swallowed. The fragile moment of indecision carried with it the weight of the world. Perhaps his slight relief had come too soon. Did the man recognize him? And if he did not, could Josiah live with the burden of the truth?
    For Anne. Yes, he would.
    Goodman Scudder cleared his throat. “It seems you have earned yourself a room. But you need to keep earning it, you hear?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Josiah did not exhale until his employer turned his back and shuffled toward the steps, his gait that of a man far beyond his years. Life had aged George Scudder. Life…or loss? Guilt stabbed Josiah—a twisting, dull knife tattering the edges of a six-year-old wound.
    And the innkeeper seemed none the wiser.
    Josiah lifted his chin and had taken only one stride after Goodman Scudder when a face in a window caught his eye. An old woman he did not recognize, yet he deemed her somehow familiar. He quickly averted his eyes, though deep unease suggested he was still being watched.
    Inside, Goodman Scudder called for Anne’s mother, Susannah, who came quickly, wiping her hands on her apron. When she saw Josiah, she stopped