“What happened?” Em asked.
“You called,” George Jacobs said. “I recognized your voice, Em. Why did you call us?”
“We saw Dorothy,” Em said. “I thought if I opened the space for spirits close to us, caught in the in-between, she would come.”
“I haven’t seen her, Em,” George Jacobs said.
George Jacobs’ face reflected the guilt they all felt about Dorothy’s situation. He blinked at Em.
“We’re dead, aren’t we?” George Jacobs said. “And you? I mean, that’s Bridget . . .”
“Hi there, George.” Bridget gave a little finger wave to George Jacobs.
“She was hanged two months before I was hanged,” George Jacobs said. “The Reverend was with me on Gallows Hill.”
“We died when we were hanged,” Em said. “We came back as immortal witches. Giles was pressed to death.”
“Dear Lord.” George Jacobs turned to look at Giles.
“Over three days,” Giles said with a shrug.
“You always were a stubborn man,” George Jacobs said.
“Still am,” Giles said.
“I’m sure that’s true,” George said. He turned to look at Em. “And the rest of you were hanged.”
“Yes, sir,” George Burroughs said.
“And you came back?” George Jacobs said.
“We did.” Em smiled at his repeated question.
Catching her smile, he said, “Just hard to believe.”
“It is,” Em said.
“Now, I didn’t come back because the kids moved my body?” George Jacobs asked. “Reverend?”
“We believe love protected you from this . . . enchantment,” George Burroughs said.
He gestured to himself and Em. George Jacobs nodded.
“Is there anything you can tell us?” Sam asked. “Anything at all?”
George Jacobs turned to look at Sam. He nodded at Sam’s question and then looked down.
“I have a sense . . . something . . . I . . .” Biting his bottom lip, George Jacobs looked off into the distance.
“What is it?” George Burroughs asked.
“You must find John Proctor,” George Jacobs said.
“Where?” Em asked.
“I can’t help you,” George Jacobs said. “I know only what I’ve told you.”
“George?” Rebecca asked.
Rebecca disappeared as if a giant vacuum had come and sucked her away.
“Listen to me,” George Jacobs said. “This man . . . I remember him from Salem Village.”
“He was there?” Em asked. “As a living person?”
“Bystander in the crowd,” George Jacobs said. “A feeling in the air, a smell, lurking around . . .”
George Jacobs’ legs disappeared.
“Find John Proctor,” George Jacobs said. “They can’t stop us if we fight together.”
He looked at each of them individually.
“Will you fight with me?” George Jacobs asked as he continued to be sucked away.
One at a time, they nodded.
“We are with you, George!” Em said when only his head was visible.
“Em?” George Jacobs asked. “Find John.”
And he disappeared.
Stunned, they sat staring at the place where George’s apparition had floated.
“We are not alone,” Sarah Wildes whispered. “Em?”
Em nodded. They had planned for any possibilities. It was time to put those plans into action.
“Dorothy?” Sarah Good’s desperate voice called for her child.
“Show yourself!” Em commanded.
“Mama?” a young child’s voice echoed through the room.
“Dorothy!” Sarah Good yelled. She threw herself onto the table. Her arms reached out. “Dorothy?”
“Hold her back!” Em yelled over Sarah’s desperate cries.
Sarah Wildes and Ann jumped up to hold on to Sarah Good. Sam grabbed her from behind and held her to his him.
“It’s not her!” Em yelled to Sarah Good. “Ann?”
Ann slapped Sarah Good’s face.
“It’s not her!” Ann said into Sarah Good’s face. “It’s a trick.”
“Dorothy?” Sarah’s frantic voice brought tears to their eyes.
“Mama?” a young child’s voice said again.
“Show yourself!” Em commanded.
The air began to crackle with electricity. The incandescent light bulb in the floor lamp popped, blowing glass onto the floor. The pressure in the room rose until their Boston-fog-filled sinuses screamed in misery.
“Hold on!” George Burroughs yelled to the other witches.
“Show yourself!” Em ran her hand over the pillar candles in the middle of the table. The flames grew to a foot high. “Now!”
Whap! She clapped her hands together.
The demon appeared, with the specter of Dorothy Good in its clutches. Em’s pinky finger pointed to Alice and George Burroughs. The demon opened his mouth to say something.
“Now!” Em yelled.
George and Alice snatched Dorothy away from the demon. The demon screamed with rage and reached for the child.
“Clear and light,” the others chanted. “Clear and light!”
“Away!” Em yelled and jumped to her feet.
The space they’d opened for the séance snapped shut, and the demon disappeared. Exhausted by the effort, Em dropped down into her seat and tried to catch her breath.
“Let there be light!” Giles said, and the lights came on.
The witches cheered. Em nodded to them and took a long drink of water. Sam let go of Sarah Good, and she rushed to hold her child. The witches came to see Dorothy.
“It’s not her,” George said.
“I know,” Em said.
Sarah Good was close enough to hear them.
“It’s her sanity,” Sarah Good said. “The spirit of her mind.”
She glanced at Em, who gave her a solemn nod.
“I release you, my daughter, my love,” Sarah Good whispered. She leaned forward to kiss the specter’s forehead. “Be at peace.”
The child kept a tight grip on her mother.
“Be at peace,” the witches said to Dorothy. “Be at peace.”
The child began to disappear. Sarah Good and her daughter locked eyes.
“Be at peace, my daughter,” Sarah Good said. “I love you.”
And Dorothy was gone. They silently stared at where Dorothy had been standing.
“Thank you,” Sarah Good whispered.
One at a time, they hugged Sarah Good and left the room, until only Em and George were left sitting at the table. Sarah Wildes and Mary Ayer were cleaning up from their ceremony. Sarah Good sat down across the table from Em. She dropped her head into her hands and wept. Mary Ayer sat down next to Sarah and rubbed her back.
“Whatcha thinking?” George asked.
Em turned to look at him. After a moment, she looked away.
“No, really,” George said. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking about my father,” Em said.
“Was he like that?” George started to ask. Em shook her head. “Then, what?”
“He always told me to watch out for the demons in this world,” Em said in a low tone. “Then he would touch the cleft in my chin.”
George reached over to stroke the spot. Em gave him a slight smile.
“My father asked to meet me before I left England,” Em said. “Henry and I went to my parents’ home. As if they’d planned it, my mother invited Henry out into the garden to give him some rhubarb root to bring to America, I think. And my father . . .”
She looked up at George and then shook her head.
“Not here,” Em said.
Alice, who’d left to show the others out, was coming into the room when Em said, “Not here.”
“There’s not a soul in this world who loves you more than we do,” said Alice. She gestured to Sarah Wildes, Sarah Good, Mary Ayer,
and herself as she closed the door to the loft.
“Show us,” Sarah Wildes said.
“We’ll not tell a soul,” Mary Ayer said.
As if to say he agreed, George put his arm around her. Em turned her right hand over. An eight-inch version of her father appeared on her palm. The women had to lean in closer to see.
Smaller than her father, Em poured tea from her mother’s antique pot and set the teacup onto a small table set into a bay window. Her father held out her chair for her.
“This is my mother’s home,” Em said.
“You’re pregnant,” Alice said.
“With Thomas,” Em said. “We wanted him to be born here, in the colony. There was talk that the colony would eventually become a country. We wanted Thomas to have every chance.”
“Shh.” Sarah Wildes pointed to her father sitting down in a chair at the table on Em’s palm.
Em and her father drank their tea in uncomfortable silence. Her father cleared her throat, and she looked up.
“I don’t think I’d ever been alone with him like that,” Em said.
“You look uncomfortable,” Mary Ayer said.
“I am,” Em said.
“Father?” Em asked.
Her father gave her a long look. She smiled.
“You look so young!” George said.
“I was.” Em gave a rueful shake of her head. Sarah Wildes pointed at Em and then at George and shushed them.
“I have something to say,” Em’s father said. He cleared his throat.
“Father?” Em asked again.
“You are my only child,” her father said. “My only heir.”
“Yes, father,” Em said.
“You . . .” Her father’s voice started loud but deteriorated into mumbling. He flushed and swallowed hard. “We . . . Uh . . . Our family, we . . .”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but we should be going,” Henry Rich, Em’s first husband, came into the room.
“Yes, of course.” Her father stood.
“Aw!” Alice said.
“Wait,” Em said.
Em’s father leaned down. He took hold of Em’s elbow and helped her to standing. As he did, his mouth was next to her ear. He said something. He kissed her cheek. His finger touched the cleft in her chin, and he let her go.
“What did he say?” Alice squealed at the same time George said, “What?”
“I don’t remember,” Em said. The vision disappeared, and she closed her hand.
“But you actually heard him?” George asked.
“Yes,” Em said. “I know I heard what he said. I remember thinking about it all the way to New England.”
“The trip must have been brutal,” Alice said.
“I can’t imagine doing it while pregnant,” Mary Ayer said.
“It was hard,” Em nodded. “Henry started to show signs of his illness. I knew he wasn’t himself, but we hadn’t been married long, and I was so young. I . . .”
“Did your parents have other children?” George asked.
“I’m not sure,” Em said.
“I remember my mother pregnant with my brothers and sisters,” Sarah Wildes said. “You?”
“No.” Em thought for a while. “I’m sorry. I haven’t thought of this in a long, long time.”
“Of course,” Sarah Wildes said. “Take your time.”
Em scowled at Sarah.
“If that scowl is a question, let me be clear,” Sarah Wildes said. “I’m dying to know what your father said. So what do we do?”
Em looked at each of her friends. Alice nodded. Em shook her head at them.
“Can we let this drop?” Em asked.
“No,” George said and kissed her cheek.
“Do you know how to do it?” Mary Ayer asked. She looked at Sarah Wildes and Alice. “Maybe she doesn’t know how.”
“Do you know how, Em?” Alice asked.
“Yes,” Em said.
“Well, go on then,” Sarah Wildes said in a flip tone. They laughed.
Em sighed and snapped her right fingers. Her father appeared in miniature form. She pushed the vision off her hand, and the memory landed in the center of the table. The image grew to near human size. Em had to lean back in her chair to get any perspective. Alice and Sarah Wildes pulled their chairs a foot away from the table and sat down.
“You are my only child,” her father said. “My only heir.”
“Yes, father,” Em said.
“You . . .” her father flushed and swallowed hard. “We were able to have only one child. Uh . . . Our family, we . . .”
“Did he say that before?” George asked. The memory continued to play. “I don’t think he did.”
“His voice drops after the first word,” Alice said.
“Shush!” Sarah Wildes said. “Em, can you go back? Did he say anything else in these other drops?”
“Maybe,” Em said. “Let’s see.”
“You must understand how special you are.” Her father flushed and swallowed hard. “We were only able to have only one child. Uh . . . Our family, we . . .”
“You are special.” George leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“Shush!” Sarah said again.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but we should be going.” Henry Rich, Em’s first husband, came into the room.
“Yes, of course.” Her father stood.
Em’s father leaned down. He took hold of Em’s elbow and helped her to standing. As he did, his mouth was next to her ear.
“You are a truth teller,” he said in Em’s ear. “We are made of God, the true God. We see only truth, live only in the truth. We are God’s truth.”
He kissed her cheek and let her go.
“Truth teller,” Alice said.
“Gospel Woman,” George said.
“What?” Em turned to look at him.
“Hathorne recorded that you told them you were a Gospel Woman,” George said. “You were telling him that you couldn’t be a witch because you were God’s truth.”
“The man was paranoid and saw witches lurking around every corner.” Em shook her head. “Who cares what he wrote down?”
“You didn’t remember your father saying this to you?” George asked.
“No,” Em said. “He said something ridiculous and . . .”
“Why did you tell Hathorne, the examiner, that you were a Gospel Woman?” Alice asked.
“I thought it was crazy that he thought I was a witch,” Em said. “There’s no one more unlikely to be a witch than . . .”
Em flushed bright red and shrugged.
“I guess it doesn’t matter now,” Em smiled.
“No, it matters,” Sarah Wildes said. “I feel it in my bones.”
“Why?” Em gave Sarah Wildes a disbelieving shake of her head.
“Listen to what you said,” George said. “You knew Henry was ill on the boat. It was years . . .”
“Five years before he was truly ill,” Em said.
“You always tell us the truth,” Alice said.
“You told Hathorne that you were ‘a Truth Woman,’” George said. “He wrote down ‘a Gospel Woman’ because the words are synonyms.”
“You are God’s truth,” Mary Ayer said.
“That’s why the devil is after you,” Sarah Wildes said. “You’re the only person who can stop him.”
“I . . .” Em said.
“We are here because you, the God’s truth, called us back,” George said.
“That’s crazy,” Em said.
She looked at Sarah Wildes, Alice, Sarah Good, and Mary Ayer. They looked like they’d been hit by a train.
“Rebecca and George Jacobs answered your call,” George said. “Just today!”
“Anyone could . . .” Em said.
“Tell me, Truth Teller.” Alice’s voice cracked, and her eyes filled with tears. “Why are we here?”
“I . . .” Em started.
“Tell me,” Alice commanded.
The slight tug of
Alice’s magic begged her to respond. She looked at Alice’s face and saw her determination.
“To fight this evil,” Em said. “Before it infects the world.”
“That’s why we died?” Mary Ayer asked.
“Probably,” George said.
Mary Ayer’s entire being began to smile.
“What happened?” George asked.
“I believe you,” Mary Ayer said. “And, I guess I’m okay with it. I died to protect what would become this country.”
“Seems like maybe we’re needed now,” Em said.
“We’ve been needed before,” Mary Ayer smiled. She leaned over to kiss Em’s cheek. “I’ll fight with you.”
“Em?” Sarah Good asked from across the table.
“Sarah?” Em asked.
“I believe you are a Truth Teller. It’s like . . .” Sarah Good nodded.
“I’ve known it all along,” Alice said.
“Me, too,” Sarah Wildes said.
Mary Ayer nodded.
“What truth do we need to know now, my love?” George asked.
“That we will have to fight this,” Em said.
“Bring it on,” George said.
“We have to find John Proctor,” Em said.
The women nodded.
“When we’re done, we will have the choice of peace,” Em said.
George leaned forward and kissed her lips. The women hugged her and slowly made their way out of the room. George showed them out.
Long after they’d gone, Em sat in the room, wondering what her father had really meant. She’d seen him, years later, when she was living with Isaac in Boston. Her father, William Panon, came to New England from London to find out for himself what had happened to his daughter. She would have sworn he didn’t look a day older than in the vision she’d recreated. She got up from the table and jogged down the stairs. At the computer behind the counter, she typed his name into the search engine. Nothing came up.
“There you are!” George said. “What are you doing?”
He jogged down the steps.
“You can’t be working,” George said. “You must be exhausted!”
“Looking for my father,” Em said.
“My love,” George said. “Benoni didn’t survive.”
Suffer a Witch Page 11
