I gave a forced chuckle as we headed down the trail. “Afternoon’s not over yet, but I don’t mind washing the berries. You can talk and I’ll listen.”
OLIVIA TOOK A SEAT at the table with a glass of tea and chattered while I washed and sorted the berries.
I was content to listen as Olivia babbled on about the store and the witch trials that were never far from anyone’s mind in town. I didn’t care for the subject, but I listened to appear polite just the same. While I worked, Mama worked beside me, using beeswax to seal the tops of several jars of aloe and calendula salve for soothing burns. I didn’t miss the startled looks she sent Olivia’s way from time to time as she prattled on.
“What are you making, Mrs. Walsh?” Olivia asked, eyes on what my mother was stirring. Moira looked up with a small smile, her fingers reaching for the lids and bits of colorful string she used to tie insignificant pieces of linen over the tops. She carefully labeled the contents and brief instructions on use.
“I’m making a large batch of my no-itch salve. Elspeth takes these to Salem on Market day and sells them with the fresh vegetables and fruits. Poison Ivy and Oak are prevalent at this time of year, and this stuff is a dream. Helps dry up the blisters and calm the itching. Would you like a jar to go with your jam when you go home?”
Olivia looked wistful. “I would. I know dad will like it. He gets poison ivy something fierce. I may have to give it to him before Mama see it though. She’s really funny about anything the good Dr. Quack... I mean Dr. White hasn’t concocted.”
Moira nodded with an amiable smile. “That’s fine then. I don’t want to get you in trouble with your Ma.”
Olivia shrugged. “We’re always in trouble with her. What’s new?” she grinned.
We spent the rest of the afternoon making jam. I took the lead with Olivia following my directions. When we were finished we both stood back and admired the fifteen little jars, pretty with their lids and bits of string holding the deep red jam.
I spoke up as I grabbed a small box from a shelf. “Here, we’ll put seven jars in here and I’ll add one of mom’s itch ointments too. You can get that to your father however you want.” I met Olivia’s merry eyes.
“Sounds good to me.” No sooner had I sat the box by the door when a resounding clap of thunder sounded in the distance, followed by a sharp flash of lightening. Outside the window, the trees were moving, their leaves bent back, the silver undersides showing as they moved under the stiffening wind. Thick clouds had moved in and the afternoon looked more like early twilight.
Olivia frowned, and I laughed. “Don’t feel bad, I’ve always been great at predicting the weather. Doesn’t look like we’ll be outside the rest of the afternoon. We can hide out in the barn with the kittens or I can show you another stitch or two. I have another pattern that’s different from the first one if you’re interested.
Olivia looked out the window as the first fat drops splashed down in the dusty yard, followed by a deluge that wasn’t quitting soon. “I think the tatting. I don’t feel like getting wet.”
I agreed. “Let me get my basket.”
LATER IN THE EVENING before retiring for the night we made popcorn over the fire and played a game of Nine Man’s Morrice at the table. The storm let up long enough for a breather, but a second batch moved in as we retired to the warmth of soft quilts beneath the rafters in the loft. It had been a long day. I drifted off to sleep almost immediately, wondering where my brother had gotten to. He still hadn’t returned. Probably hiding in the barn from me after what he did. Was my final unkind thought.
OLIVIA TOOK LONGER to fall asleep. As they’d been working on the sewing earlier in the evening, she’d watched Elspeth’s nimble fingers move over the sampler, showing her the intricate new stitch with expert skill. The back of Elspeth’s hands had been smooth and unblemished. There’d been no sign of the unsightly brown bits of skin from before. She’d made a miraculous recovery. The only thing was that none of it had really looked like dried skin at all to her. She’d rather thought the flaky brown bits looked more like scales.
CHAPTER THREE
BREAKFAST THE NEXT morning before we brought Olivia back to town was anything but quiet. Olivia, as a guest, brought our count to seven. I snagged a pancake and passed the platter to Olivia. Sliced fatback bacon rounded it out. The main axle on the hay wagon had broken so my brothers would drive us to pick up parts when we went.
I met Da’s somber eyes as Olivia asked for the syrup. “What’s the matter Da?” I asked, taking the maple syrup from Olivia and pouring a light amount of the precious syrup on my own cakes and bacon.
“Five more. They have convicted and sentenced five more to hang based on the spectral evidence of townsfolk. Ridiculous,” he spat in disgust.
Moira spoke up, her voice holding the slightest tremor. “It’s no different from what we all ran from in England, to get away from all the witch hunts and persecution of the innocent.”
Olivia spoke up, nonchalant, as if she were discussing the weather. “If they are witches, then Mama says they deserve it. In league with the devil and all.” She volunteered, taking a bite of the fluffy buckwheat cakes with a moan of pleasure.
Aidan glared at her and she stopped chewing. “What about actual proof? Spectral evidence? That’s nothing but someone saying they saw shadows or had a dream. It’s heresy is what it is.”
Olivia swallowed, suddenly not as thrilled with her breakfast. “But what if they are witches? That means they are evil and not to be trusted? That they go against God.” Olivia protested weakly.
“Does it? Do they? Seems I’d want to have my facts in order before I decided someone needed to die,” he finished.
Duncan spoke up, considering what she’d said and adding. “And does that make it right, Olivia? Because using Spectral evidence, taking the word of children? It all just seems like a very convenient way to exact revenge on the people that are pissing you off.”
Olivia gasped at the profanity, her eyes round as she lapsed into silence.
Moira spoke up, glaring at her husband and sons as the conversation had taken a grim turn. Fin and Fergus had said little, but the beetling of their brows and the pursing of hard lips said all that was necessary. It was a sore subject, but not for company to hear.
“That’s enough. I’ve fixed a wonderful breakfast to see you off this morning, I think I’ve heard all the talk of injustice and hangings I can stomach.”
Duncan sighed, meeting his wife’s eyes in apology, something secret passing between them. “Mama’s right. Enough talk of death and drama. Olivia, I’m sorry for the harshness of this morning’s conversation. I hope you’ve enjoyed your visit. Do you girls have anything planned for this afternoon while we’re in town?”
In a small voice, still smarting from Aidan’s harsh words, Olivia admitted. “Well, Mama’s birthday is today. I was hoping Elspeth might want to go with me to collect wildflowers.”
I nodded with a slight smile. “I have a bit of colored tatting that we could tie in a fancy bow. Would you like to take some for the flowers to pretty them up for her?’
“That sounds nice.”
I SPENT THE MORNING visiting the list of mama’s customers taking orders for the herbal remedies. Not everyone in Salem was ready to trust their lives to Doctor Forbes. But for the first time in longer than I could remember, sales were almost nonexistent. The patrons that normally flocked to purchase Mama’s salves and ointments and tinctures—did not. Instead, with furtive looks that were equal parts longing and fear, people made excuses for why they weren’t interested. Fear of wagging tongues and suspicious natures made people cautious of anything that might direct pointing fingers in their direction.
By 2:00 in the afternoon, I gave up. Of the twelve regulars on Mama’s list, only three had put in an order. I headed for the mercantile, sidestepping the people on the boardwalk. The streets were crowded as people bustled back and forth between businesses and went about their daily routines. But the mo
od was tense for such a lovely day. Normally genial smiles had turned introspective and wooden, furtive glances filled with suspicion and fear met mine and slid away. The hysteria was effecting the town in more ways than one.
The mercantile was emptier than usual. It seemed people wanted to get their things and retire to the relative safety of their homes, away from speculative eyes. Olivia was behind the counter with Mr. Thompson, who seemed as grim as those I’d passed on the street.
“Not exactly a festival of goodwill out there, is it?” I asked him.
“No. And business is suffering some for it. People are scared, and nervous people don’t buy or do anything more than necessary to survive.”
Isla, catching the last part of her husband’s words as she waddled from the back, piped up, her nose elevated and a sneer gracing her less than lovely lips. “Things will return to normal when they catch the last of the blasphemers. We have found five more guilty, praise the Lord. They’ll hang and send a message to the good people of Salem. Evil abounds and will be eradicated.”
Charlie, voice harsh with disgust, ground out. “Guilty? A bunch of busybodies encouraging mass hysteria based on rumor and word of mouth. What evidence? Dreams aren’t proof of anything...” he started.
Isla interrupted him, her nose so high I wondered that it didn’t brush the ceiling. “You don’t know what you’re talking Charles Thompson. Best you leave the interpretation of the word of God and purging our town of the wicked to the authorities and the good Reverend Parris. They know what they are doing!” She stated self-righteously, her entire body quivering with indignation.
Olivia chose that moment to speak up and change the disintegrating argument. It was a fight no one was going to win with Isla in the room.
“Mama, Elspeth and I are going out for a bit. There are kittens in the stables and we want to see them. We won’t be gone long.”
Isla’s waspish eyes landed on me in hard disapproval, as if she expected me to make off with the fine china at the first available opportunity.
“I suppose. An hour, no more. There’s ironing to do for church in the morning.”
Isla missed the way her daughter’s mouth tightened as she straightened her hair and moved from behind the counter to join me.
“Come on!” Olivia hissed and I followed, not any more eager than Olivia to spend extra time in Isla’s bitter company.
“DID YOU LIE TO YOUR Mama just now, Olivia? About the kittens. I thought we were picking flowers?”
Olivia smiled, eyes crafty. “Oh yes, well, we are also playing with the kittens, so I didn’t really lie, did I?” she giggled.
We shared a grin as we headed for the stables. The smell of horse sweat and old leather teased our noses as we entered through the double barn doors.
“Harold, were here to see the kittens in the loft, is that okay?” Olivia asked him.
Harold, arthritic fingers gripping a pitchfork, was mucking one of the horse stalls. His frame was bent and skin leathered and dark from his time in the sun wrangling horses in his youth. His exterior often matched his gruff personality, but he had a soft spot for kids. “Sure, go ahead. While you’re up there, could you shove a couple bales of hay down for me? Save me the climb.
At the top of the loft both of us stuck our heads out and looked down to where Harold waited, shoving the two closest bales over. They hit the ground with a plop, one of them busting wide. No matter, they were going straight away into the mangers to feed the stock. A throaty nicker from below from one of the draft horses wafted up.
Then our attention was taken up by the tumbling bits of fluff that toddled in our direction. There were three kittens. Mama was missing, probably out mousing for their dinner. My eyes drew to the calico kitten and I sighed as I scooped her up, rubbing my chin against the soft fur as she purred and dug her nails into my skin.
We enjoyed the kittens and spent a peaceful half hour there before climbing back down the way we’d come.
“Thanks Harold.” Olivia added. We exchanged a grin. Harold had kicked back in a rickety wooden chair, feet crossed in front of him and a hat over his face. He was snoring loud enough to stir the pigeons in the rafters. We left the way we’d come.
THE BEST FLOWERS GREW on the south end of town where the sun shone brightest in a little empty field. We collected a colorful rainbow of red chickweed, purple calendula, and blue chicory among others until we had enough to put together a pretty arrangement for Isla’s birthday.
“I have that bit of string for you to tie these off in when we’re done.” I reminded her. I added, “when we get back to the house we should snip the stems clean. They’ll last longer that way.”
Olivia nodded. “Marvelous idea. I’m done here, I think we have plenty.”
I straightened with a wince and arched the small of my back. I froze when I realized we weren’t alone. I nudged Olivia to get her attention.
“Well, isn’t this a sight? Two lovely ladies picking flowers on a Saturday Afternoon in the sunshine.”
Olivia turned with a moue of surprise, her eyes widening at the sight of the sturdy young man who stood in the shade of a maple tree watching them.
Both girls wondered how long he’d been there.
I scowled in irritation. He was a tall youthful man of maybe sixteen. His shoulders were just beginning to widen towards manhood. Dark hair and blue eyes roved over us both enough to be disconcerting. I didn’t like the way they lingered on me.
He stood cocksure and full of himself, which only further confirmed my poor first impression of his manners.
“Spying you mean, don’t you?” I added, just shy of rude.
“Elspeth!” Olivia hissed, shocked. She casually brushed at the tendrils of her own dark hair that had sprung loose around her face in a frizzy halo.
“I’m sorry, excuse my friend, she doesn’t get out much. We didn’t catch your name?”
He stepped away from the tree. “James Corwin. And you are?” He addressed us both, but his eyes were hot on me.
“No...” I denied him. Olivia interrupted her with an ominous look in my direction. I narrowed my eyes and snapped my mouth shut.
“I’m Olivia Thompson and my rude friend is Elspeth Walsh. My daddy owns the mercantile,” she added, as if that made some difference.
I wanted to roll my eyes all over again but controlled the impulse.
I was curious about something, though. “Corwin, is that any relation to Jonathan Corwin, the magistrate.”
He smiled at me and puffed out his chest. “It is. That’s my father.” He’d all but ignored Olivia’s own claim to self-importance. I didn’t respond. I was sure James wasn’t ready to hear my opinion on the monster I thought his father was. Jonathon Corbin had been very influential in the witch trials and the indictments following the accusations. His interrogation tactics were well known and feared.
Beside me, Olivia simpered and I wanted to slap her. “Your father has done a lot for the good people of Salem in rooting out the source of the evil that is upon us.” She murmured approvingly, in a stilted voice.
I looked at her sharply. As against allowing witches in town as she was, even Olivia had admitted that she thought the magistrates were wrong for the shady methods they used to encourage confessions.
His eyes moved briefly over Olivia, before coming back to remain on me with interest.
Olivia tried once more to gain his undivided attention. I was of the mind that she could have it. Something about the casual freshness of James Corwin’s gaze gave me the willies.
She spoke up. “I’ve seen you in church haven’t I? Don’t you stand at the back a lot with your father and John Hathorne?”
A hint of irritation flashed in his eyes as he turned to answer her. “Yes, we usually get there right at the end, though. Dad has been so busy at work, what with the recent rash of criminal activity and the over-crowded jails.”
Olivia nodded, her smile brilliant and her eyes focused on his handsome face.
He turned back to me. “Elspeth is it? I don’t believe I’ve seen you around here before? Do you not attend the reverend Parris’s service?”
I glared back. “We live up the way out of town a spell. I don’t always get to town for service. When our family does, we attend Reverend Mather’s,” I admitted.
He frowned. “Reverend Mather’s? Not my cup of tea, but he has a great reputation with the common folk in town.”
My eyes narrowed, and he realized what he’d implied. He rushed to recover his words. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, a lot of the hard-working farmers find his service very enlightening,” he amended.
I gave him a cool smile. “That’s okay. I’ve found that us ordinary folk are an honest lot. We see the truth and base our opinions on fact rather than supposition.”
He blinked, trying to follow the conversation and figure out where he’d lost control of it.
Olivia spoke back up. “The church is having another picnic this Sunday. Are you going to be there?”
James’ eyes slid away from me with reluctance. “Probably. Will you ladies be attending as well?”
I opened my mouth, the denial on my tongue when Olivia cut me off.
“Elspeth won’t be. She’s not coming to church with me this weekend. But I’ll be there.”
Ignoring her, James turned to Elspeth. “Really? That’s too bad. You should come. The reverend gives an animated service that’s quite entertaining.”
Olivia watched James; his eyes glued to Elspeth’s rigid figure. Hers frosted over by several degrees.
I couldn’t resist the taunt, “So I’ve heard. I’m afraid I’m busy this weekend helping my mother in her herb garden. I won’t be attending.” Though I know she’d been thinking of herself, I was grateful to Olivia for the opportunity to excuse myself from something I didn’t want to do in the first place. I pivoted in Olivia’s direction, my fingers damp as I squeezed the stems on the flowers too tight. My too short skirt billowed with the quick movement, revealing a flash of ankle. James’ interested gaze hadn't missed the sight, or Olivia’s bitter one.
Dragon's Wish Page 4
