The musty smell was comforting as Ryan let the door close behind her. The space was narrow, but deep, and Ryan could see several bookcases near the back of the store covered in thick plastic tarps. She assumed this had to do with the renovations Leah had alluded to.
“Oh, good morning, Ryan. What brings you out this way?” Ryan jumped as Marty walked around one of the bookcases. He was balancing a tall stack of books in his arms, while securing them under his chin.
“Lord! Sorry, you startled me.” Ryan instinctively covered her chest with her hand, her heart momentarily speeding up.
“Sorry about that.” Marty slid the stack of books he was carrying on the counter next to the cash register. “We don’t usually get people in this early on Saturdays, so my apologies for not being up front when you came in.”
Ryan shook her head. “It’s fine. Is Leah here?”
Marty paused, and pulled a worn leather bound book from the top of the pile. “She’s - she’s on a call with buyers.” Ryan had been lied to many times in her life, but Marty was perhaps the worst of all at concealing it. His face flushed and his eyes darted back and forth when he spoke.
Ryan smiled. “I’m happy to wait.”
Marty shook his head. “I’m sorry. What I meant was she’s on a call with buyers at her house, and won’t be in for several hours.” The sound of a door closing at the back of the store drew Ryan’s attention, and moments later Leah came into view.
“Ryan. What are you doing here?” Leah stopped in her tracks, and instead of stepping forward into the opening near the register, remained at the end of the bookcase.
Ryan’s eyes moved to Marty, who was now so red she feared he might pass out. “Ah, I was hoping we could talk. I know you’re busy with calls, but I won’t take long.”
Leah looked at her business partner, her eyes narrowing. “Calls?” Marty shrugged, and without a word scampered toward the back of the shop.
The tension and awkwardness were palpable, and Ryan was beginning to regret her decision to do this in person. “Look, you’re clearly uncomfortable so I can just -”
Leah shook her head, finally stepping forward to stand next to the counter. “It’s okay. What do you need?”
You. Ryan nearly laughed as the single, simple word skittered across her mind. “I want to apologize for Jenny. She was a horse’s ass.”
Leah walked behind the counter, and began nervously organizing the stack of books the clerk had brought up. “She was drunk. It’s happened to the best of us.”
Ryan shook her head, and stepped toward the counter. “That’s not an excuse. Besides, I suspect she would have behaved badly regardless of her penchant for binge drinking.”
Leah started to say something, and then stopped. The two women looked at each other over the stack of books. Ryan felt a cascade of heat roll over her body, as if she had just been submerged in a warm bath.
“And I’m sorry about the other thing, too.” Ryan looked down, suddenly feeling very uncertain. Part of her wanted Leah to say the kiss had mattered, and that it was okay. The other part of Ryan wanted it to mean nothing so she wouldn’t have to manage the torrent of emotions the blonde incited in her.
Leah managed a weak smile as she stopped fidgeting with the books. “That’s happened to the best of us, too.”
Ryan’s eyes shot up. She was relieved Leah wasn’t offended by her forwardness, but also put off with the implication that she had kissed Leah because she was drunk. “But I wasn’t -”
Holding up her hand, Leah interrupted Ryan. “It doesn’t matter, let’s just forget about it.”
Ryan’s heart was pounding in her chest, and she knew she didn’t want to forget about it. “No, I wasn’t drunk, and I’m not sorry I kissed you.” Ryan stammered. “I’m sorry it wasn’t anything more.”
It was Leah’s turn to blush, her eyes turning downward. “Oh.”
That wasn’t the response Ryan had hoped for, and the look of uncertainty and dread on Leah’s face was not the come hither look Ryan preferred from the women she was attracted to. “Can we maybe -”
Ryan stopped as Leah stepped around the counter. “I don’t think we should -”
Stepping forward, Ryan had to force herself not to take the beautiful blonde’s hand. “We could try, and see -”
“I’m old enough to be your mother.”
Ryan felt as if she had been punched in the stomach, and took a step back.
Leah stepped forward and reached for Ryan’s hand. “God, I didn’t mean - I’m sorry, that was in really poor taste.”
Ryan was surprised to feel tears pushing at the back of her eyes, and took a deep breath in an effort to clear her head. “I should go.” She pulled her hand free of Leah’s and reached for the door.
A look of pure anguish crossed Leah’s face. “Ryan - I’m -”
The need to maintain some dignity and self-respect sparked Ryan to look Leah squarely in the eyes as she spoke. “I’m not looking for another mother, and that’s certainly not what I want from you.”
Ryan pulled the door open with such force the jingle of the bell was a sharp and garbled jangle as she descended the steps and began walking quickly toward her car.
“Ryan!” Leah’s voice was preceded by the slamming of the shop’s door as the woman jogged after Ryan.
“Forget it!” Ryan reached in her pant pocket and pulled her car keys out. A firm hand grabbed her by the right shoulder and spun her around.
“Wait. Please.” Leah stood in front of her. The light morning mist clung to her hair, as her breath created puffs of clouds in the space between them. “That was a terrible thing to say, and I know you aren’t looking to be taken care of or -” The blonde swallowed, her words coming in short bursts. “Mothered.”
The sting of Leah’s words clung to Ryan, and she had to force herself to hear the woman standing in front of her. It had been a long time since she had felt vulnerable with another person, and she wasn’t sure if the pain she felt was proportional or right.
“Thank you for apologizing.” Ryan had always believed when all else fails, politeness couldn’t hurt. “I’m going to go.”
Leah grabbed Ryan’s forearm. The touch felt akin to the sun on Ryan’s arm during a warm summer afternoon, and she struggled not to step closer to the blonde. “Can we have dinner?”
Ryan felt lightheaded, and the slight incline of the street left her feeling unstable. Leaning on the car, she managed to nod. “Okay.”
The warmth of Leah’s body seemed to be seeping into Ryan, and she willed her arms not to wrap around the beautiful woman. What’s wrong with me?
“And maybe we can avoid chasing each other down the street next time?” Leah teased.
Ryan chuckled, the swirling in her head still leaving her off balance. “It’s my cardio.”
A broad smile spread across Leah’s lips as she noticed Ryan’s car for the first time. “Hey, is this yours?”
Ryan, still feeling unsteady on her feet, continued to lean on the car. “Yep.”
Leah nodded her approval. “It’s nice.” She stepped toward Ryan. “I’ll call you tonight with details.” She leaned in, and placed a quick kiss on Ryan’s cheek before turning and walking back to the bookstore.
The brief touch triggered more vertigo, and Ryan barely managed to get the car door open before she collapsed into the driver’s seat. She had never swooned before, and certainly not with a single peck on the cheek. She chalked it up to no breakfast, followed by an intense exchange with a woman she was beginning to have significant feelings for.
***
“Marty!” Leah shouted the man’s name as she walked back into the bookstore.
The stout man emerged from the back of the store, a white ceramic mug in hand that read Fluent in Movie Quotes and Sarcasm. “You rang.”
Leah put her hands on her hips, and glared at the man. “Calls? Really?”
The man shrugged. “It seemed plausible at the time.”
“Why not ju
st tell me she’s here?” Leah charged.
Putting the coffee mug down on the counter, Marty winced. “I don’t think getting involved with another Myers is advisable, do you?”
Shaking her head, Leah placed her elbows on the counter. “Ryan isn’t Karen.”
“True, but Karen didn’t start out being Karen either.”
Leah’s brow furrowed. “Explain.”
Marty took a sip of his coffee. “The way you tell it, when you two met it was all sunshine, lollipops and snow cones.”
“Don’t forget unicorns.” Leah jabbed.
Marty grinned. “And happy little elves on the unicorns. But then, she was - in the end - a Myers, and everything that goes along with that.”
Leah straightened up, and taking a deep breath looked at the ceiling. “I like Ryan, and I want to be friends.”
“I know you look thirty, but she’s nearly twenty years your junior. What could you possibly have in common?” Marty put the coffee mug back down.
Leah tisked. “Low blow, Marty.” The woman looked at the coffee mug, ran her index finger along its warm ceramic side, and then smirked as she walked toward the back of the store. “Besides, that’s the point of being friends, to figure out what you have in common.”
Marty shook his head, and picked up the mug of coffee. When he tilted it back for a drink, a dark block of ice pressed to his upper lip. Marty turned the mug over, and the frozen coffee fell with a thud onto the counter.
The man rolled his eyes, and shouted to the back of the store. “You owe me a coffee tomorrow! Something expensive that takes as long to order as it does to make.”
***
20 April 1628
What a wretched time I have had! It has been nearly a month since I last wrote in this diary as illness has been upon me in one form or another since shortly after the gathering at the Tynan house. I do not know that I have the strength to endure.
My stomach is in a constant state, and I have awoken each morning with the worst sickness. Margery and Abigail both have taken to visiting me daily, as has Coleen, and on occasion her sister Hester accompanies her. I am blessed to be surrounded by such caring and concerned friends and neighbors.
Margery was over just yesterday as Coleen and I sat in the front room visiting. It was the most peculiar thing as once again I am convinced the two women know each other. The expressions of recognition that I witnessed between the two was unmistakable, but I must confess I was too weak to implore with either of them.
It saddens me, but I do not believe Margery or Coleen are destined to get on. Once the initial introductions were over, Margery immediately left for the kitchen to prepare my daily herbal tea. Coleen had watched her closely – I dare say suspiciously, and it was only after I spoke to her twice that she turned her attention back to our visit.
I do not know what history – if any – there is between these two women, nor can I imagine, given Coleen’s travels, how they would have met, but I do wish they had struck a truce for my sake. I do enjoy them both so very much.
Even now as I write, my concentration wanes as waves of sick cramping shoot through my stomach and lower regions. Isaac has done what he can, but his obligations to the court and the town are great. He continues to manage the situation with the Sebille family, though I am at a loss why it should take so long for the court to decide how to manage the issue of the family’s contract.
I did manage to ask Isaac, and he told me it was too complicated to explain, but that once our baby was born I should have nothing to do with Margery or her family. I could not imagine, and I told him Margery was more than a midwife to me – she is a friend.
Isaac was very cross with me, and I could see he was restraining himself for my sake and the sake of our child. He made it clear though – in no uncertain terms – the Sebilles were not to be fraternized with once my pregnancy was over.
I commit to these pages what is in my heart, and confess that I lied to my husband when I told him I would honor his wishes. I do not know how as of yet, but Margery and I will remain friends no matter what!
***
26 April 1628
I can barely manage to put into words the events of this day. It is as if I have left this world and ventured to some dark place I dare not speak of, and cannot escape.
Isaac returned home from court the other day with dire news. The Sebilles were not only being driven from their home, but they were to be excommunicated from the town. My husband was in a state I have never witnessed before. His eyes were wide with fright and his face flush with heat. He had returned not so much to tell me the news, but to retrieve his family’s pistol before returning to the town center.
“I have not the time to explain what are complicated and urgent matters, Remembrance. Just know, the Sebilles – and I am sorry, but Margery too – are to be removed from town immediately.” He spoke rapidly as he stored the pistol in his leather bag.
“And you need a gun to do this?! You are not one of the constables, Isaac. Let them move the family.” I had pleaded with him for, as much as I care for Margery, the idea of Isaac putting himself in harm’s way set off in me a wave of panic.
Seeing my concern, Isaac took my hand, pressing it firmly to his lips. “I am merely there as an observer.” He had glanced down at the bag which hung from his shoulder. “This is simply a precaution.”
“Why do they have to leave the town? Is it not enough they should be forced from the only home they have ever known?” I was thinking of Margery and Abigail, but also Goody Sebille who – in spite of a prolonged illness – was still alive, and I could not imagine in any condition to move.
“Just know they must be removed. Is it not enough that I have said so?” Isaac had reached the front door, his hand hesitating over the latch as he saw the tears his words had triggered begin gathering in my eyes.
My husband is a kind man, and is not immune or deaf to my feelings. That second he put his bag down, and pulled me into his arms. I felt a relief come over me, and I held him near.
“Wife, there are things in this world you are not meant to know – not yet anyway.” He had leaned back from me, and I could see the worry and love in his eyes. Though I thought to argue, my heart was no longer in the fight, and I let him go.
Nearly four hours passed. The sun had already set, and the house was cast in shadow when I heard footsteps on the front porch. The sound of multiple men gathering near my front door sent a shock of fear down my back, and I grabbed the iron fire poker though I did not know what I should do with it.
The door opened, and to my great relief it was Isaac in the company of Goodman Payne and Goodman Tynan. “Wife, why are you standing in the dark with an iron poker in your hands?” Isaac’s eyes had narrowed as he looked upon me.
“I was frightened, and did not know for certain it was you.” I quickly placed the poker back in its holder and greeted our guests. “May I offer you a spot of ale?”
Goodman Tynan stepped forward. “We did not mean to frighten you, but it has been a trying day.”
Goodman Payne had huffed, and sat his bulky frame down in the chair nearest the fire. “You, my friend, are the master of understatement.” He looked up at me, his narrow brown eyes glimmering in the fire light. “I will take that ale, Goody Allerton.”
I was surprised when Isaac followed me into the kitchen. “We will not be staying long. The court is being gathered.”
I turned to face my husband, surprised a matter as simple as evicting a family from their home would warrant gathering the town’s elders at night. “Can it not wait until the morning? What could be so urgent as to draw you back out into the night?”
Isaac’s eyes darted back and forth, and I could see he was deeply troubled. I took his hands in mine, and squeezed gently. “Husband, what sits so heavy on your heart?”
A faint smile found his lips but for a second, and then his eyes went to the floor. “The Sebilles are witches.”
I recoiled from the very word as I
took a step away from Isaac. “That is not possible. Margery, Abigail – they are god fearing –”
“They are witches, Remembrance. And the town has known since the crossing, but has looked the other way until now.”
I was so taken aback by this revelation that my speech left me, and I could only cover my muted lips with a trembling hand.
“The family ensured a safe passage across what could have been – and most certainly would have been – horrific and cruel seas. In exchange, they were contracted a salary and house by the town.” Isaac took a tentative step toward me, his eyes brimming with concern. “You know I speak the truth. Look into your heart.”
I was looking. Every second of every day I had spent with Margery running through my mind, and I could find nothing wrong or evil in the woman. “You knew?”
Isaac shook his head, his brow furrowed as he was clearly remembering. “My father had alluded to it, but I thought it was rumors.” My husband shuddered, and I instinctively stepped to him, needing to comfort him. “I was not certain until I assumed my current duties, and had access to our town’s records.”
“You knew and yet you continued to allow Margery to tend to me and our child?!” I spoke more harshly to Isaac than I had at any other point in our marriage, and I could see from the pained expression on his face, he was surprised.
“I was not sure, wife.” Isaac pleaded. “What would you have me do? You had been so ill, and there is not a doctor to aid us.” Once again my husband could not meet my eyes. “I did not know what to do, but trusted that had anything seemed amiss, you would take the steps required of you.”
My head felt as if it were spinning, and I clutched the back of the small wooden chair near our kitchen hearth. “You left me to guess that my midwife was a tool of the devil?”
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