He danced back out of her reach, staring at her with new eyes and shook his head. It was obvious Thomas was finally realizing the true gravity of playing along with Tammy Younger’s rules, rules that did not align with his father’s or the town’s—and perhaps no one’s but Tammy’s.
I stepped toward him and laid a gentle hand on his arm. “You need not fear me, Thomas. I will not tell your secret. There have been people in the stocks for doing just this or more. You are not alone in this indiscretion and I do not condemn you.”
He wept while Tammy scoffed. “Ours is a true love, Thomas, you’ve said as much.”
“Betty and Abigail are getting the crop tonight,” I continued. “Your father is in a dark place and I recommend you visit the Hubbards’ at haste.”
He nodded and without another word raced toward town.
As soon as he was out of earshot, I laid into Tammy. “How long has this been going on? How long have you been corrupting Thomas Parris?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Corrupting, Thomas? That is laughable. Thomas Parris is a willing and able partner.”
I waved my hands in the air. “Be that as it may—how are you two here on the very spot where I’ve—”
She smiled slyly. “Hidden the book?”
She ran a few paces back and plucked the fabric-wrapped package from a new hiding spot, holding it over her head and dancing around the path. “I’ve watched you every day from the woods—wishing and waiting for you to succeed, and in that period . . . I have encountered Thomas Parris on many occasions. Did you know he hates his father and misses yours?”
My lips pulled inward. She said this so matter-of-factly, as if not even considering how deeply felt my father’s loss was to me.
“He has no interest in becoming a preacher, and from the way he kisses me, he has not heard a higher calling.”
She stretched the book toward me, and I took it from her, blushing.
“So, you have been watching me?” I asked.
“Every day.”
“And what of Elizabeth?”
“Elizabeth is here as well.”
Leaves shifted under foot as Elizabeth came forward from the shadows. Her face flushed a deeper red than mine.
“A spectacle, was it not?” I asked, hoping for some comradery in my misery.
Elizabeth buried her face in her hands. “Oh, to stand in silence and watch what marrieds do . . . I cannot even imagine how I survived it.”
Tammy rolled her eyes. “Be that a lesson to you, girls, no matter what they say at services, people like to kiss. They just can’t be caught doing it.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened, and Tammy threw back her head with a howl.
“It’s fine to kiss. Up in Gloucester they care not—”
“We are not in Gloucester!” I shrieked. “I have two girls at home taking a savage beating because we are not in Gloucester and I have stolen and I have been deceitful. They are paying a very hefty price.”
Tammy’s eyes widened. “Am I supposed to be sorry for that? For them?” She folded her arms across her chest. “Because I am not. I have learned that one must look out for oneself, and I dare say it is about time someone thrashed those brats within an inch of their lives for all the trouble they wrought. How you can have an ounce of sympathy for them is beyond my wildest imaginings.”
“If you knew the reverend like I do—like Thomas does—you might feel something for them.”
Tammy scoffed. “Need I remind you that Elizabeth’s mother is dead because of them.”
I looked to Elizabeth, her bottom lip quivering. Tears caught in her pale lashes and she bowed her head.
“So many are dead, and you sleep without a mother or father in that cold, barren house because of those girls.” Tammy stared at me, her eyes two hard stones. “No, I have not an ounce of pity in my heart for them and nor should you.”
In my own heart I knew Tammy was likely right. Betty and Abigail probably did not deserve my pity, but perhaps a small corner of my soul had not been so consumed with blackness, because I did pity them. Despite all they had done, my stomach was in knots thinking about the beating they were getting—because of me.
I also knew that to condemn them fully would be to condemn my mother as well. Mama could have confessed without accusing others. If Mama had done that and not talked of flying in the woods, might the whole thing have ended then and there and not over a hundred and fifty accused and twenty people dead? Betty and Abigail had started things, but Mama made them take off like a wildfire in the dry August heat.
Oh, I wished Mama were here to tell me all that really happened.
I felt the weight of the book in my hand. When I write my name in its pages, will I still be able to feel compassion—even for those who perhaps deserved none? It was dark magic we would be invoking—dark magic full of revenge.
Could I really go through with this?
“I feel you wavering, Violet Somebody,” Tammy said, her voice softer than before. “We need you and you need us. You sleep alone in a cold house,” she repeated. “And if you are ever to find your parents, this . . .” She tapped the book. “This is how you do it.”
I nodded. I would have no peace for the rest of my life if I couldn’t find Mama and have her tell me what really happened. I handed the book to her. “Take this back to Elizabeth’s. My nerves could not stand to have it anywhere near the Parris house.”
“I will keep it tucked away safe in the barn,” Tammy said. “Tomorrow the moon is full. Wrap your fur or feather or wish in a bundle with an egg.”
I looked to her. “An egg?”
“For our familiars to be born from,” Elizabeth whispered, her eyes darting about the woods nervously.
“Elizabeth Prince, steady yourself!” Tammy exclaimed. “You are about to become a witch!”
Elizabeth wrung her hands and looked back at us. “Are we to really do this?” She gathered us close. “Are we really to become full-fledged witches tomorrow evening?”
Tammy smiled. “Tomorrow we harness the power of three. Tomorrow we become women.”
Elizabeth stood tall, her face glowing. “Women to be reckoned with.”
I looked up through the branches at the darkening sky. Tomorrow, I would wrap a raven feather in a bundle with an egg. I’d been mesmerized by my mother’s ability to see the future in the contents of an egg, and now I was a girl ready to cast her own spells on the world.
I smiled at Tammy and Elizabeth. “We will be women to be reckoned with, and women who can fly.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I spent much of the next day tending to Betty’s and Abigail’s wounds. The reverend had taken the Bible to heart and not spared the rod. I was horrified by his viciousness as I gently dabbed their cuts with honey.
I was also plagued with guilt that I had brought this upon them. Their acts of thievery would have gone unnoticed had I not slipped them into my new story.
Tammy’s words echoed.
Elizabeth’s mother is dead. Her stepfather cares not for her.
You sleep without a mother or a father, as they were sold.
It would be easy to think they deserved the red and blue lines across their buttocks—the raw and bleeding welts—but it was too much. I could not expel the guilt from my heart.
I knew Tammy would mock me for even feeling the slightest remorse, but I almost wanted—no, expected—Betty and Abigail to accuse me of forging those pages with their names and placing them under the mattress. It was obvious they had guessed what I had done—that I had set them up for a fall.
But there were no questions nor fingers pointed my way.
They remained silent, save for Abigail’s soft weeping. Surely, they knew I was responsible, and I racked my head as to why they hadn’t turned on me.
When I brought their plates up for dinner, I offered the hundredth apology in my head as the words stuck in my throat.
Perhaps, when I sign the book tonight, I can turn back time and do it
all over differently, but I couldn’t understand why their silence cut me more than their usual ugly remarks.
I still had to get out of the house later and that was yet another problem. It seemed my problems were piling up all around me. I could walk along a path without making a sound, but how could I get past a sleeping dog or silence a noisy front door? What excuse could I give if I were caught out of the house?
I walked to the window and stared out to the woods from the diamond-shaped panes in time to see a figure striding toward the house.
Thomas.
His deliberate steps marked urgency, and I wondered what news he would bring.
The door opened and slammed, and my breath quickened.
“Mother!” he cried.
I stood at the top of the stairs but could make nothing of their hushed conversation.
“Violet,” Mistress Parris called. “Come down at once!”
Abigail moaned from the bed and Betty shushed her, reaching out an arm to wrap around her.
“I’ll be back soon,” I said, not expecting an answer. “And I am truly sorry,” I choked out for the first time aloud.
I raced down the stairs not wanting to anger Mistress Parris with tardiness. Feelings were raw in the house and I did not want to push things further.
Mistress Parris stood by the table, hands on her hips. She turned to Thomas. “Why again do they need Violet? There seems no need for this. The girls need tending.”
Thomas caught my eye briefly and then turned to his mother. “All I know, I was in town and Elizabeth Prince’s stepfather, Mr. Osborne, beckoned me. He said their cow was in hard labor and that Tituba knew a remedy for such things. He hoped Violet might also know of it—she might have learned how to help from her mother. He’d heard it worked wonders, and he said he would pay coins if she could save his calf.”
My mind searched for a conversation with Mama about birthing calves and came up with none. My mother was skilled in many things—but I could not remember her talking of animals and their care.
“Violet, you can help, right?” Thomas asked. “Elizabeth was sure you could. She asked for you to come immediately.”
He stared me down and I understood. Tammy was using Thomas Parris so I could be free for the evening—so I could be out in the woods with nobody wondering where I was. That kiss I witnessed was coming back to haunt him, making him do our bidding.
I wanted to smile but I saw Mistress Parris’s face—saw the doubt in her eyes.
“Mama did say there were herbs that help with labor.”
“What herbs, Violet?” she asked, eyes narrowed.
My mind raced for some birthing talk to remember. “Trillium. It helps with the contractions.”
She turned to Thomas. “How many coins did Mr. Osborne say she could fetch?”
He shook his head. “He said not.”
Mistress strode to the hearth. “You need a writing book, Thomas. We must take what we can get. Violet, can you get this trillium?”
I nodded vigorously. “I have spied some, Mistress, in the woods, and I recall having heard my mother speak of its effectiveness, but birthing can be a long process.”
Thomas and I exchanged looks, and I wondered what Tammy had said to persuade him to get me out of the house tonight.
Perhaps it was the promise of another kiss.
Mistress looked at the chickens boiling in the pot over the fire. “Go, Violet, and be sure not to leave until you are paid.”
I nodded and raced to my room for my traveling cap. I tucked my hair under and then snatched the black raven feather I had slid under my mattress. I gently took the quill and placed it in my apron pocket. I took the egg I had set aside under my pillow and pocketed that as well.
“I hope the birthing goes quickly, Mistress,” I said, heading for the door. “I do not want to leave the girls for long.”
Mistress hung her head, looking like she’d aged ten years just this evening. “I will tend to the girls. Just be sure you do not come home without the coins.”
Once the door was shut behind me, I raced to the woods, cradling the egg in my hand. I took no measures to mask my steps as I flew through the trees in this evening, already ablaze by the full, white, magical moon.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I forged on, deeper and deeper, my breath labored, until I approached the spot I’d first met Tammy Younger. The stream only murmured now without the melted snow to fill it out, but the soft babble soothed my frayed nerves.
A glow caught my eye in the distance, and I saw it was a small fire.
My breath caught in my chest.
Would all I’d been promised—all I’d hoped—come true?
I slowed my steps as I neared the spot we’d chosen. A large oak had come down past winter, leaving an opening in the forest canopy for the moon to shine down. Elizabeth was poking a fiery log with a stick, while Tammy walked in circles around her.
Many of those who confessed to witchcraft had told of similar scenes—meetings out in the woods under the cover of night. Despite Tammy’s assurance that people paid no mind to “folk women,” I prayed I would not be confessing this evening’s doings to Sheriff Corwin or Reverend Parris anytime in the future.
I had half a mind to turn and walk away, but I thought of that cold house I resided in. I thought of all the things I wanted but could never get on my own.
“I’m here,” I said softly.
Elizabeth jumped up and Tammy turned to me, smiling triumphantly.
Tammy stretched out her arms and I walked slowly into them. “I knew you’d come.”
I let her embrace me, and her bear hug made it clear she was truly afraid I might not show.
“Thomas did his part,” I said.
Elizabeth danced around the fire with giddiness. “I’m so nervous,” she tittered. “And excited! Will we really be able to make magic?”
Tammy’s eyes glowed. “We will, and we’d best make haste before someone comes looking for Violet and a newborn calf.”
“We do have a cow in labor, so it wasn’t really lying,” Elizabeth stated. “I may be doing witchy things, but I do not want to offend the Lord any more than I have to by telling another lie.”
“We are folk women,” Tammy fired back.
“What of the coins, though?” I asked nervously. “Thomas promised the mistress I would receive coins for my help. I fear if I come back empty-handed she will make noise at Elizabeth’s house and we will be exposed.”
Tammy reached into her pocket. “I have but one—”
“No, I had but one!” Elizabeth said. “She took it from me; I had earned it for selling eggs this last year.”
Tammy rolled her eyes. “Perhaps we can find a way to multiply it.”
Elizabeth snatched it from her fingers, grinning madly. “Could we? Could we really?”
“I am determined to make it happen,” Tammy said, grabbing it back. “Let us start.”
“Should—should we get naked?” Elizabeth whispered. “Would that help work the magic?”
Tammy laughed as I gasped.
“Only if you want to, Elizabeth Prince. I, for one, plan on becoming a witch, pardon—a folk woman—with my dress on and save my naked flesh for Thomas Parris.”
“Oh, you are shameless!” Elizabeth squeaked.
“Says the person about to dance in the wood frockless!” I exclaimed, feeling blood rush to my face.
Elizabeth shrugged. “I am new to this witchery, folk-women business—I don’t know the rules. It just seemed like getting naked might help. People did talk of that during the trials.”
Tammy looked down her nose at Elizabeth. “We are harnessing the magic of the full moon; therefore, we make the rules.”
“Well,” Elizabeth sniffed, “if we are to make the rules, I declare we keep our dresses on, but remove our caps.” She tossed her cap into the fire and shook out her long brown hair, giggling all the while. “I feel so scandalous!”
Tammy cocked her head and laug
hed. “I like the way you are thinking, Elizabeth Prince. I may have had my doubts about you, but you have the makings of a fine witchy folk woman!” She tossed her own cap into the fire, and they both looked to me as black smoke stung my nose.
“Oh no!” I shook my head. “I can’t. If I come home without my cap there will be whipping, and given the number of whippings in the house of late, I do not want to draw attention to myself.”
Elizabeth smirked. “Tell Mistress Parris the cow ate it!”
Tammy gawked at Elizabeth as fresh laughter filled the wood.
“Very well!” I took my cap off and plopped it on the glowing embers.
“Look at them burn,” Tammy said, her chest rising fast. “We have just shed our old skins like snakes, and we are about to be reborn. Now let us dig a hole, bury our bundles, and see what drags itself out from the earth.”
Tammy bent over a basket beside the fire and took out a small hand shovel. “We’ll take turns digging—each one scoop and then we put the book and our bundles in.”
“How deep should we dig?” I asked.
Tammy cleared a circle on the forest floor with her feet. She examined it, and then brushed more debris away. She held out a boot and drew a circle as big as a wagon wheel in the dirt with its heel. “Because our brave Elizabeth wishes to command a wolf—very deep!”
“Oh no!” Elizabeth said. “I was thinking but a tiny wolf—a pup. The fur I pulled from the fence post surrounding the chicken yard seemed but soft baby fur.”
Tammy handed her the shovel. “Dig deep; we do not know how big it will be when it comes.”
“If it comes,” she muttered.
Tammy squeezed her wrist. “It will come!”
Elizabeth pulled her arm away and then knelt on the forest floor. “For my wolf, then,” she said, breaking the ground with the shovel.
We each took turns and sweat broke out on my forehead as I twisted the shovel to dig out around rocks and roots. When we had perhaps reached a foot down, Tammy stood and brushed her hands of dirt.
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