Had she imagined it? She doubted her senses. How could Cherry Jane be here? Of all the places, on all the islands—here? And in this grand house, with all those elegant people? Rachel was becoming an expert in all the impossible paths a life could take—away from plantations and across oceans or into forests. Yet this vision of her daughter in a pink dress was the one thing her mind could not accept. Cherry Jane could not have been taking tea in a grand reception room with an almost-white man, when in Barbados she had been little more than a house slave.
Cherry Jane passing??
