She’d let Weni and her father tell her about the demons. She’d let her reading of the Bible and other verses color her ideas about the demons. It was time for Em to do her own research. It was time for Em to find out for herself. Nodding to the ceiling, she turned over and fell into a peaceful sleep.
Chapter Twenty-five
Em pulled closed her hotel room door and set out into the hallway. She was in Charlottesville, Virginia, for a week-long seminar on the Salem Witch Trials. In all these years, Em had never looked into what had happened to her and the others. When asked, she always said she’d lived through it and that was enough. But the truth was that historians spoke of a Martha Corey that she didn’t recognize. Their Martha Corey was arrogant, cruel, and high handed. History remembered her in the words of the men who, with purpose and malice, set about murdering her. She’d turned her back on history a long time ago.
Now that she remembered the demon’s words on the day of her hanging — “And now it begins” — she realized that she needed to take an in-depth look at the Salem Witch Trials. She had a good understanding of what had happened to each individual. She needed to understand what had happened in a larger context. She needed to understand the entire event. She needed to do her own research.
When George left for the fall, Em braced herself against the lies and started researching the trials. She’d ordered every book and read online the books that were no longer in print. While looking for the original documents, she discovered that the University of Virginia’s Scholar’s Lab had the largest collection of original documents from the Salem Trials. She was scheduling a visit to Charlottesville when she discovered that the Scholar’s Lab University Extension taught a popular seminar on the Salem Witch Trials. She decided on the spot that she would attend. Using a little magic, Em finagled a spot.
Em stopped in the hotel lobby for a thermos of hot water and a few tea bags before walking to class. She had no idea how she would respond to the seminar. Would she cry? Would she get so angry that she’d set the auditorium on fire? Both were real possibilities. She decided she would sit in the back, near the door, and drink her tea. She could easily slip out if she became overwhelmed.
A woman near the middle of the back row was saving five or six seats. Em pointed to the aisle seat. The woman smiled and nodded that it was available. Em was just getting settled when a middle-aged woman came in to sit next to her. The woman waved to her friend in the middle of the row and smiled at Em before sitting down. The woman leaned into Em.
“Connie,” the woman said in a low voice and pressed her chest.
“Em,” she said.
“First time?” Connie said.
Two women waved to Connie and moved to sit in their row. Em stood so they could get by.
“At the seminar?” Em asked.
She was so surprised by the woman’s friendly tone that she scowled a bit more than she would have liked.
Not intimidated, Connie nodded and sat down.
“I haven’t been here before,” Em said finally.
“I thought so,” Connie said. “I can always spot the new ones.”
Em raised her eyebrows to see if Connie was going to say anything else. The woman was rummaging through her handbag.
“Do a lot of people come more than once?” Em asked.
“Most of us,” Connie said and came up with a ball-point pen. “This is my eighth time.”
“Eight times?” Em asked.
Surprised, Em looked at the woman as if she were crazy. Connie nodded in agreement that she was, in fact, crazy. Em smiled.
“Why?” Em asked.
Connie scanned Em’s face and gave a little nod.
“I guess we feel. . .” the woman pressed her hand in to her chest. “. . . for the women.”
Connie nodded.
“And men, too,” Connie said. “You know there were men hanged, right? Oh, and they were hanged and not burned. Most people think they were burned.”
Em gave Connie a soft smile, and Connie nodded as if she’d set Em straight.
“Plus, the man who teaches this course is. . .” Connie started.
The woman sitting next to Connie leaned over and said, “Dreamy.”
“I was going to say ‘handsome,’” Connie said.
“Charming, funny.” The woman next to Connie gave a little sigh, and Em squinted at the familiar description.
“Doctor. . .” Em fumbled for her program. She’d been so focused on getting into the class that she hadn’t paid any attention to who was teaching it.
“Burrows,” the woman two down from Connie said. “I’m Cassie.”
“Em.” Em nodded to the woman.
“Charlie,” the woman next to Connie said.
“We’re the three ‘C’s,’” Connie said. “We’re from Wisconsin. Madison.” Connie pointed to herself. “Milwaukee.” Connie pointed to Charlie. “And Eau Claire.” She gestured to Cassie.
Em smiled as if she knew that these cities were actually different places.
“Em, from Boston,” she said.
The women gave Em a little wave.
“So this Doctor Burrows? Any relation to the Reverend?” Em asked.
“Different spelling,” Cassie said with a shake of her head. “He’s from Boston, though. Maybe you know him.”
Em shrugged and started making a cup of tea in the cap of her thermos.
“He owns one of those woo-woo stores,” Charlie said. “What is it called?”
“Mystic Divine?” Em asked.
“That’s it,” Connie said. “Have you been there?”
Em gave them a vague nod and tried to keep the amused grin off her face.
“How long has he been teaching this course?” Em asked.
“Ten years?” Cassie said. Em swallowed hard to keep from looking surprised.
“Longer than that,” Connie said.
The women argued among themselves for a moment until they agreed that they weren’t sure.
“He’s cute,” Charlie said. “But he’s totally taken.”
“Which totally makes him more attractive,” Cassie said.
“He’s taken by that Mary who works with him,” Connie said.
“Which Mary?” Em asked, with a little too much emphasis. The women looked up at her with surprise. “I know a lot of Mary’s.”
“You probably do know her,” Connie said. “She lives in Boston.”
“They both do,” Cassie said. “You should hear them. Year to year, they always learn something new. This year, they say they’re going to reveal where the bodies are buried.”
“You know, no one knows the exact location the witches were buried,” Charlie said.
“Not witches,” Connie said.
Charlie wagged her head side to side.
“We always argue about this,” Connie said. “Charlie believes they were actual witches. What do you think, Em?”
The woman looked at her.
“I. . .” Em said. Her mouth went dry. Her heart pounded in her ears. She had no idea why she was panicked. She only knew that she was. “I. . .”
She shrugged to fill in the blank.
“That’s how I am, Em,” Cassie said. “I wasn’t there, so I don’t know. And. . .”
“Even if they were witches, they didn’t deserve to be hanged,” the women said in unison.
“Look at the time!” A woman came rushing into their row.
Em and the three “C’s” got up to let her through. She dropped into a chair next to Cassie, and the women’s attention turned away from Em. Relieved, Em took a sip of her hot tea. She looked at her thermos. She never got used to how these thermoses worked. Talk about witchcraft. Thermoses were amazing. She was lost in her own revelry over the tea when Connie touched her arm.
“There he is,” Connie said. “Isn’t he. . .”
Em looked across the nearly eight thousand people in the auditorium to see her husband move into the room. He wore jeans, a brown sweater she’d knitted,
and a beard. As she had the first time, she felt his presence like a hot coal moving across her heart. He seemed to feel her presence as well. He scanned the audience.
“He’s got a wedding ring this year,” Cassie said with a pretend pout.
“Mary still doesn’t.” Charlie pointed to Mary Ayer Parker, who was standing next to George.
“It’s not Mary,” Connie said with finality. Charlie shrugged.
“I see some familiar faces. . .” George said as he peered out into the audience.
He put his hand on his heart and whispered what Em knew to be a finding spell. It took him only a moment more to find her at the back of the room. She felt her face get hot and her lips turn up in a smile. His face broke into a big smile. He instinctively touched the beard that she hated and looked down. When he looked at her again, everyone in the auditorium turned around to see what he was smiling at.
“He’s smiling at me!” Connie said.
“It’s Em,” Charlie said with a push of her elbow into Connie’s side.
The women looked at Em, and she shook her head as if they were crazy. George said something to Mary Ayer Parker. She found Em and grinned. Before Em had a chance to respond to the women, George started the course.
“We have five days,” George said. “Five days seems like a long, long time to talk about something that happened so long ago. However, what happened in Salem in 1692 affected the very creation of this country and continues to affect Western civilization today. Those of you who have been here before know that we’ll spend the mornings talking about the environment in which the witch trials happened, or more simply, the ‘why’ of the Salem Witch Trials. We’ll spend the afternoons focused on two of the individuals who were hanged as witches. This year, we will discuss: Sarah Good, Susannah Martin, Martha Carrier, John Proctor, Mary Eastey, Margaret Scott, and Giles and Martha Corey. That is eight.”
“George Jacobs!” a voice yelled from the side of the class.
“Elizabeth Howe,” a woman yelled.
George nodded and grinned.
“Okay, okay,” George said. “Tomorrow, you’ll have a chance to vote on the final two people we discuss. Let’s get started. Can we lower the lights?”
George began lecturing. Em leaned back in her seat to listen.
Em was just finishing dinner with the three “C’s” when an address appeared on her telephone. She waited until the women had finished their wine before making her excuses and leaving the restaurant. The map on her phone told her that the address was for a small house on campus. To avoid being seen, she cloaked herself in darkness and headed off into the fall night. Em felt her heart race with excitement and her breath catch in her throat as it had when she’d snuck out to see George in Salem. Smiling, she made her way to see her lover.
Mary Ayer answered the door. She didn’t say a word until Em was well inside the house.
“I can’t believe you guys,” Mary Ayer said as she hugged Em. “You really didn’t know he taught this class?”
“This is his time to do what he will,” Em said with a shrug. “Plus. . .”
“There is no talk of Salem in our house,” George said.
“That’s not exactly true,” Em said.
“Pretty close,” George said. He held out his arms and crushed her in a hug. He gave her a bruising kiss. “I do not have words to describe how delighted I was to look up and. . .”
He let go of her to look at her.
“What are you doing here?” George asked.
“I thought you hated history!” Mary Ayer said with a laugh.
“I do!” Em smiled. “I need to figure this whole demon thing. . .”
Mary Ayer gasped, and Em looked at her.
“We didn’t vanquish them?” Mary Ayer asked.
“I don’t think so.” Em shook her head. “Sorry.”
Mary Ayer looked at George, and he nodded.
“They’ve declared a kind of a truce,” Em said. “They said as long as we don’t add to our ranks, they will leave us alone again.”
“But Mary’s pregnant,” Mary Ayer said. “Bridget, too, but I’m not supposed to say anything.”
Em nodded.
“Oh, God,” Mary Ayer said. She wandered to a worn stuffed armchair and dropped down. “Alice will be so disappointed.”
George chuckled, and Em smiled. Mary Ayer turned to look at Em.
“I thought it was too easy,” Mary Ayer said. “Is that why you’re here?”
“I had another dream,” Em said.
George put his arm over her shoulder and kissed her hair.
“The demon said something that made me realize that I’d only ever taken someone else’s word for. . .” Em waved her hands and added, “everything.”
“You need to do your own research,” George said.
Em nodded and looked at him. He kissed her nose.
“I’m surrounded by all of these smart people,” Em said. “They all have smart ideas and opinions, but I have no idea if they are accurate. What if they’re completely wrong?”
“You think your father and the mythical Weni might be wrong?” George asked.
Em nodded.
“I’ve felt that way, Em,” Mary said. “You remember that jerk Upham?”
“Charlie?” Em asked. Mary Ayer and George nodded.
“He got as much right as he got wrong,” Mary Ayer said. “And I thought, ‘If this guy could just make stuff up — like that junk about poor Tituba starting it all — I could tell the truth.’ So I started researching.”
Mary Ayer nodded.
“I’m good at it,” Mary Ayer said.
“Mary is the foremost expert on what happened to us,” George said. “We work together for a month every year, and it usually ends up with her teaching me what she’s learned. I keep telling her she should teach this seminar, but. . .”
George looked at her.
“No one’s as good at talking to a crowd as George,” Mary Ayer said with a blush. “You know, Em.”
Em smiled at her.
“But I could help you,” Mary Ayer said with a nod.
“What about your business?” Em asked.
“It pretty much runs itself now,” Mary Ayer said. “I have great realtors who work for me. I only have to go in on the weekends.”
“And answer when they call with questions,” George said.
Mary Ayer nodded.
“I could totally help,” Mary Ayer said.
“I don’t know what help I need,” Em said.
“I’d love to go to that library,” Mary looked from George to Em, “you know — the one on Orkney?”
“Would you go, too?” Em asked George.
“We’re going to Laos in a month, and after that. . .”
“You need to be with your people,” Em said with a nod.
“I. . .” George opened his mouth and then nodded. “They need me, count on me.”
“But I could go,” Mary said.
“Let’s see if I can handle this week,” Em said. “I find it all very. . . overwhelming. You say the words, and the filth and fires and pain and horror and. . . everything invades my bones. I can barely breathe.”
Not sure of what to say next, Em nodded. George pulled her in and kissed her hair.
“Okay,” Mary Ayer said. She smiled at Em and then at George. “I’m really glad you’re here, Em.”
She hugged Em and kissed her cheek. She did the same with George.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Mary Ayer said.
She turned on her heels and headed up the stairs, leaving Em and George alone.
“What do you usually do when you teach?” Em asked.
“I find it exhausting,” George said. “Mary keeps a Puritan schedule. I try to match hers.”
Em gave him a lusty smile, and he laughed.
“I have a hotel room,” Em said. “You could sneak in and sneak out.”
When George leaned forward to kiss Em, she transported them to her hot
el room. He laughed when he realized they had moved. He took her hand and led her to bed.
“You didn’t tell him?” Ann Pudeator asked Em.
Em shook her head from her vantage point on an exam table at the Mary Horrigan Connors Center for Women’s Health.
“I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell him,” Ann said.
“George’s work is really important to him, Ann,” Em said. “It means a great deal to him to go and check on people in the fall. He gave up two weeks to go to Laos with us. If he doesn’t get everywhere, then he has more people to see in the dead of winter.”
“You didn’t tell him because of some homeless people?” Ann asked. “Strangers?”
“Close to twenty-five percent of homeless people are vets. Many of them are people George knew in the wars,” Em said. “He feels a deep connection to them. If he knew I was pregnant, he never would have gone.”
“I would have told him,” Ann said with a nod. “Put an end to that nonsense.”
Ann looked at her and smiled.
“This is why you’re his partner and wife,” Ann said.
“I want him to live a meaningful life,” Em said.
“And you?” Ann asked. “How are you feeling? It can’t be easy to be pregnant at your age.”
Em grinned, and Ann smiled.
“Practiced that?” Em asked.
“I thought of it after Mary was here,” Ann said.
“Mary Ayer said that Bridget is pregnant, too?” Em said.
“With a girl,” Ann said with a nod. “Do you think it’s because you’re married?”
Em shook her head.
“None of the girls with human boyfriends are pregnant,” Ann said.
“Do they want to be?” Em asked.
“Did you?” Ann asked.
Em shrugged.
“I’m helping Elizabeth and Sam,” Ann said.
“Elizabeth really wants a baby,” Em said. “It’s her one disappointment in immortality.”
“That and not being able to fly,” Ann said with a grin.
Em smiled.
“I talked to my fiancé,” Ann said. “Told him the score.”
“About being immortal?” Em gasped.
“About being infertile except for certain men born near where I was born,” Ann said. “It’s an acidity thing.”
Suffer a Witch Page 29
