Acknowledgments
This book could not have been finished (and no lie, it was a nail-biter) without the help of my sister, Kerry Malloy, and my daughter, Meredith, for reading and commenting and being the kind of people who are really good at grammar and constructive criticism and listening to me cry when things got hard.
My husband, Joe, went above and beyond and had my back and was so very supportive during this process—he did most of the weekend shopping and laundry and cooking. He’s always done a lot of this stuff anyway, but we try to split it up—you know, divide and conquer—but during the writing of this book he did so much more so I could squirrel myself away in my office. And while he is quite capable at laundry—it is not his thing (it’s not really my thing either)—but he did it, week after week. So thankful for this guy! Love you!
Thanks to Max Marrone for being an all-around great son and helping out whenever you could.
And then there are my pirates, ahem, cohorts: Robin McCready, Susan Colebank, Angie Frazier, and Patty—aka Trixie—Murray with her endless supply of pies and moments when I actually think she is serious, and I might have to wrestle her in the mudflats of the Damariscotta River in Maine.
Robin, you are our pirate queen, but you all fill my soul and encourage me to keep going—our weekends have untangled so very many writing knots over the years that I cannot begin to thank you enough.
Nina Nelson—you have been here from the start and you’ve always had my back. Sometimes I need your advice and cheerleading more than anyone’s.
I want to give a shout-out to Karen Eaton, Lesa Visser, and Gretchen Webster and so many of the other English teachers at Shelton High School—I was blown away by the seven months I was able to watch these professionals teach and inspire and enlighten their students every day. Their use of books and media to make novels accessible to students of all abilities was inspiring. My children have fond memories of so many of their English teachers at Shelton High, and I was so happy to have the opportunity to see so many of them in action while I was working there.
Ladies who have been in and out of room 15 this year and last—Amanda, Sam, Kaitlyn, Melissa, and Mary—thank you for being supportive as we take things one day at a time.
Thank you to Anne Heausler for a really great copyedit! You were on the ball and so helpful!
And huge, magical thanks to my agent, Rick Richter. If you look up optimism and have-your-back, you will find Rick’s name and picture. And thank you so much for steering this project toward me and for all your help when I was floundering.
And then there is my editor, Sonali Fry. This was her baby. She wondered about the Salem witch trials, the people left behind, and most of all she wondered about how Violet Indian’s story might have evolved with a little help from magic. With so little known about what happened to Tituba after the witch trials and less known about Violet, she entrusted me to research the history and tell a story that could have been. I read so many books, took so many notes, and then imagined.
Thank you, Sonali, for planting the seed, and most of all, your patience.
Author’s Note
When I was in fifth grade, I had to choose a nonfiction book to write report on. I ended up picking a book on the Salem witch trials. I don’t remember much else other than I got a good grade and I developed an interest in this dark part of our American history.
My interest in the occult in general was no surprise. I grew up in an old, creepy house with a father who loved to tell ghost stories, and the Salem witch trials were just so fascinating to me—young girls claimed they were bewitched by their friends and family, and people confessed to doing the bewitching.
This was not something that happened every day.
Abigail Williams was a real person and it is said she actually reached into the hearth in her home and picked up hot coals in her hands while being “bewitched.” Tituba’s confessions are on record as she told of flying on poles to Boston and being told to sign the Devil’s book.
In my young mind, these accounts seemed a good case for believing Abigail Williams could possibly have been truly afflicted.
But as I read more and more books about this subject matter as I grew older, it seemed obvious to me that Abigail Williams was lying, or there was something other than witchcraft that was causing her behavior. Some have even theorized that a fungus in the rye flour used for making bread could have caused the delusions some of the girls suffered, but as I delved deeper into the topic, it seemed human nature’s baser instincts came into play during that time. People used the witch trials as means to settle petty grudges, steal land and other property from those accused, and punish neighbors who were different.
When I was asked to write the story of Violet, the daughter of Tituba, I knew I had to go further into what I had previously read about this time period. Tituba was an enslaved Indian who lived in the Reverend Parris’s house and one of the first accused of being a witch. While there is no clear evidence about where Tituba was born and what happened to her after the governor of Massachusetts pardoned all the accused, my readings led me to concur with several historians that Tituba was an Arawak Indian originally from South America.
Tituba, Sarah Good, and Sarah Osborne were all accused of afflicting Betty Parris and Abigail Williams on February 29, 1692. Both Good and Osborne denied any wrongdoing. Osborne died in prison and Good on Gallows Hill with a noose around her neck.
Tituba’s confession of practicing witchcraft seemed to be the catalyst that led to other civilians joining in with the mayhem—be they accusers or those who confessed to witchcraft to keep from being taken to Gallows Hill. Her accounts of meeting with the Devil and his human minions are on record and seemed to feed the witchcraft fever.
I pored over books about Tituba, the trials, Salem, and Dogtown, which was once a part of Gloucester, Massachusetts. The characters named in the book are based on real people—Reverend Parris, Sheriff Corwin, Martha Wilds, Ann Putnam—but I played with some of their time lines to fit the story I created for Violet as I imagined what it would be like to be the daughter of the first woman to be accused of, and then confess to, practicing witchcraft.
Tammy Younger’s time line is perhaps the one I tinkered with the most. Being born decades apart, she and Violet would never have crossed paths in real life. But Tammy Younger was known as the “Queen of Witches” in Dogtown—a now-abandoned village of Gloucester—where it was rumored she cast spells on travelers and behaved in unseemly ways for the time.
Bringing Tammy together with Violet and her real-life contemporaries, Betty Parris, Abigail Williams, and Elizabeth Prince, allowed me to explore these questions: What if there really was a kind of magic people could tap into that had nothing to do with the Devil? What if that magic could help expose the lies and deceit? What if that magic could test some of those vulnerable girls and lead them to make choices about how they could live their lives under the shadows of death and betrayal—and possibly break free from them?
My hope is that readers will ponder the answers to these questions and more after reading this piece of historical fiction.
FOR FURTHER READING
Breslaw, Elaine G. Tituba, Reluctant Witch of Salem: Devilish Indians and Puritan Fantasies. 4th ed. New York: New York University Press, 1996.
Foulds, Diane E. Death in Salem: The Private Lives Behind the 1692 Witch Hunt. Guilford, Conn.: Globe Pequot Press, 2010.
Goff, John. Salem’s Witch House: A Touchstone to Antiquity. Charleston, S.C.: The History Press, 2009.
Hill, Frances. Hunting for Witches: A Visitor’s Guide to the Salem Witch Trials. Beverly, Mass.: Commonwealth Editions, 2002.
Schiff, Stacy. The Witches: Suspicion, Betrayal, and Hysteria in 1692 Salem. New York: Back Bay Books, 2015.
Starkey, Marion L. The Devil in Massachusetts: A Modern Enquiry into the Salem Witch Trials. 24th ed. New York: Anchor Books, 1989.
Know Her Name
Only the Stars Know Her Name Page 15
