I shook my head in disbelief.

“I’ve seen it myself, over and over again,” Eliza told me. “My uncle Raymond, he lived down in St. Albans. He was left blind after an accident at the foundry there. He came back here, took a dip in the springs, and his sight was restored. I swear it.”

“My husband, Will, he’s a doctor. He thinks perhaps there must be antiseptic properties in the minerals.”

She smiled. “Perhaps.”

“I had some cuts—scratches, really—when I went into the water this morning. When I came out, they were healed.”

She nodded knowingly. “There’s no doubt that the water has healing powers. But there’s more to it than that.”

She took a puff from her cigarette and exhaled, watching the smoke drift up.

“There are very old stories about the springs. Some say it’s a door between worlds.”

“Is that what you believe?” I asked.

She stubbed out her cigarette.

“I believe the water holds more power and mystery than most people understand.”

“I heard some believe the springs are cursed,” I said. “Haunted, even.”

She seemed to bristle, her whole body tensing. “People are frightened by the things they don’t understand. Things that can’t be explained with reason and logic and science. The water is not a puzzle to be solved.” She spoke of the springs like a living creature, a dear friend she was defending. “And it doesn’t just cure you. It can grant wishes.”

“Do you truly believe that?” I asked.

She smiled and nodded. “I know it for a fact.” She played with the cuff of her dress, worrying at a loose thread. “It was the springs that brought my husband to me,” she said, voice low and tentative, as though she wasn’t sure she should be sharing this with me.

I raised my eyebrows, leaned closer to her. Our faces were only inches apart. I felt like a schoolgirl again, hidden away in the center of the garden, sharing secrets.

“I went to the water and wished for the thing I wanted most—true love and a family of my own. Soon after, Benson Harding appeared in town.” She paused, closed her eyes, remembering. “Oh, he was so handsome, just the cat’s meow! The bluest eyes I’d ever seen. I knew the instant I saw him that he was the one for me. That the springs had brought him to me!” She reached up, ran her fingers over one of the roses, pulling it close to smell. “He bought the springs, of course, and began to build the hotel. Our courtship lasted less than a year before he asked me to be his wife.”

She plucked the rose, a small white flower, and handed it to me.

“Did you tell him?” I asked, taking the flower, smelling its sweet, heady scent. “Tell him of your wish?”

“Oh yes,” she said. “He didn’t believe a word of it, of course.”

She brought her finger to her lips, and I saw there was a little drop of blood there—a thorn from the rosebush had pricked her.

“I owe it all to the springs,” she said. “I would have none of this if I hadn’t made that wish.” She gestured with her arms at the garden, the lawn, and the hotel. “This hotel, my beautiful garden, a husband I adore, and a brand-new baby who is too perfect for words!”

“A new baby?” My stomach knotted. She truly did have everything. “I didn’t realize. Congratulations.” I carefully pushed my thumb down onto a thorn on the stem she’d handed me, felt it pierce the skin ever so slightly.

“An absolute cherub. As if an angel were plucked down from heaven and given to us. Do you have any children, Ethel?”

“No,” I said. My chest felt heavy, and I looked away, embarrassed as my eyes glazed with tears.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, taking my hand, noticing the blood. “You’ve pricked yourself.” She pulled a lace hankie out of her purse.

“It’s nothing.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said, wiping the blood away, staining the white lace. “I shouldn’t have pried. I can be perfectly lousy sometimes. It’s really none of my business—”

“Please,” I said, “I’m the one who’s sorry, for being so emotional!” I wiped at my eyes. Thought of the little girl I’d held in my dreams last night. “It’s just that it’s been over a year of trying… And, well, I’m starting to think something must be wrong with me.” Even though I’d only just met her, I told her about the egg I carried against my breast and buried in the yard. I laughed at my own foolishness, but her face stayed quiet and serious. “Will says we have plenty of time. But I can’t help feeling that I’m a disappointment to him. You should see him with children. He’d be the best father! I wish I could give him the thing he wants most.” I paused, realized I’d been crushing the poor rosebud Eliza had given me. “I truly believe we’re meant to have a child. I swear, I can feel her out there waiting for me, just as I am waiting for her.”

“Go to the water and tell it.” She smiled slyly. “Promise me you’ll try?”

* * *

I kept my promise. Will took an afternoon nap, and I went out to the springs on my own, sneaking my way along the path, heart pounding. I felt like a young girl again, believing in fanciful things, that the world was full of magic and miracles. The green hills, the lush grounds, the roaming peacocks; I felt like a princess. And isn’t it true that in fairy tales, wishes are granted?

Once again, there was no one else at the pool as I approached. It was waiting just for me, shimmering and winking in the sun. I walked up hesitantly, wondering what I was doing, feeling suddenly foolish. But hadn’t I done plenty of foolish things already? Was making a wish at a spring that much different than carrying a sparrow’s egg for days? None of what’d I done so far had worked. Why should this be any different?

It pained me to think how desperate I’d become. It seemed unfair that I had to go to such lengths when it was so easy for other women to bear child after child. And what would Will say if he found me here now?

“Idiot,” I said out loud, and turned to leave before someone caught me there.

But then I thought of my promise to Eliza. And I remembered the feel of my arms around the little girl in my dream—how real she had seemed!—and how empty and aching I’d been when I woke.