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BREAKFAST THE NEXT morning before we brought Olivia back to town was anything but quiet. Olivia, as a guest, brought our count to seven. I snagged a pancake and passed the platter to Olivia. Sliced fatback bacon rounded it out. The main axle on the hay wagon had broken so my brothers would drive us to pick up parts when we went.
I met Da’s somber eyes as Olivia asked for the syrup. “What’s the matter Da?” I asked, taking the maple syrup from Olivia and pouring a light amount of the precious syrup on my own cakes and bacon.
“Five more. They have convicted and sentenced five more to hang based on the spectral evidence of townsfolk. Ridiculous,” he spat in disgust.
Moira spoke up, her voice holding the slightest tremor. “It’s no different from what we all ran from in England, to get away from all the witch hunts and persecution of the innocent.”
Olivia spoke up, nonchalant, as if she were discussing the weather. “If they are witches, then Mama says they deserve it. In league with the devil and all.” She volunteered, taking a bite of the fluffy buckwheat cakes with a moan of pleasure.
Aidan glared at her and she stopped chewing. “What about actual proof? Spectral evidence? That’s nothing but someone saying they saw shadows or had a dream. It’s heresy is what it is.”
Olivia swallowed, suddenly not as thrilled with her breakfast. “But what if they are witches? That means they are evil and not to be trusted? That they go against God.” Olivia protested weakly.
“Does it? Do they? Seems I’d want to have my facts in order before I decided someone needed to die,” he finished.
Duncan spoke up, considering what she’d said and adding. “And does that make it right, Olivia? Because using Spectral evidence, taking the word of children? It all just seems like a very convenient way to exact revenge on the people that are pissing you off.”
Olivia gasped at the profanity, her eyes round as she lapsed into silence.
Moira spoke up, glaring at her husband and sons as the conversation had taken a grim turn. Fin and Fergus had said little, but the beetling of their brows and the pursing of hard lips said all that was necessary. It was a sore subject, but not for company to hear.
“That’s enough. I’ve fixed a wonderful breakfast to see you off this morning, I think I’ve heard all the talk of injustice and hangings I can stomach.”
Duncan sighed, meeting his wife’s eyes in apology, something secret passing between them. “Mama’s right. Enough talk of death and drama. Olivia, I’m sorry for the harshness of this morning’s conversation. I hope you’ve enjoyed your visit. Do you girls have anything planned for this afternoon while we’re in town?”
In a small voice, still smarting from Aidan’s harsh words, Olivia admitted. “Well, Mama’s birthday is today. I was hoping Elspeth might want to go with me to collect wildflowers.”
I nodded with a slight smile. “I have a bit of colored tatting that we could tie in a fancy bow. Would you like to take some for the flowers to pretty them up for her?’
“That sounds nice.”
#
I SPENT THE MORNING visiting the list of mama’s customers taking orders for the herbal remedies. Not everyone in Salem was ready to trust their lives to Doctor Forbes. But for the first time in longer than I could remember, sales were almost nonexistent. The patrons that normally flocked to purchase Mama’s salves and ointments and tinctures—did not. Instead, with furtive looks that were equal parts longing and fear, people made excuses for why they weren’t interested. Fear of wagging tongues and suspicious natures made people cautious of anything that might direct pointing fingers in their direction.
By 2:00 in the afternoon, I gave up. Of the twelve regulars on Mama’s list, only three had put in an order. I headed for the mercantile, sidestepping the people on the boardwalk. The streets were crowded as people bustled back and forth between businesses and went about their daily routines. But the mood was tense for such a lovely day. Normally genial smiles had turned introspective and wooden, furtive glances filled with suspicion and fear met mine and slid away. The hysteria was effecting the town in more ways than one.
The mercantile was emptier than usual. It seemed people wanted to get their things and retire to the relative safety of their homes, away from speculative eyes. Olivia was behind the counter with Mr. Thompson, who seemed as grim as those I’d passed on the street.
“Not exactly a festival of goodwill out there, is it?” I asked him.
“No. And business is suffering some for it. People are scared, and nervous people don’t buy or do anything more than necessary to survive.”
Isla, catching the last part of her husband’s words as she waddled from the back, piped up, her nose elevated and a sneer gracing her less than lovely lips. “Things will return to normal when they catch the last of the blasphemers. We have found five more guilty, praise the Lord. They’ll hang and send a message to the good people of Salem. Evil abounds and will be eradicated.”
Charlie, voice harsh with disgust, ground out. “Guilty? A bunch of busybodies encouraging mass hysteria based on rumor and word of mouth. What evidence? Dreams aren’t proof of anything...” he started.
Isla interrupted him, her nose so high I wondered that it didn’t brush the ceiling. “You don’t know what you’re talking Charles Thompson. Best you leave the interpretation of the word of God and purging our town of the wicked to the authorities and the good Reverend Parris. They know what they are doing!” She stated self-righteously, her entire body quivering with indignation.
Olivia chose that moment to speak up and change the disintegrating argument. It was a fight no one was going to win with Isla in the room.
“Mama, Elspeth and I are going out for a bit. There are kittens in the stables and we want to see them. We won’t be gone long.”
Isla’s waspish eyes landed on me in hard disapproval, as if she expected me to make off with the fine china at the first available opportunity.
“I suppose. An hour, no more. There’s ironing to do for church in the morning.”
Isla missed the way her daughter’s mouth tightened as she straightened her hair and moved from behind the counter to join me.
“Come on!” Olivia hissed and I followed, not any more eager than Olivia to spend extra time in Isla’s bitter company.
#
“DID YOU LIE TO YOUR Mama just now, Olivia? About the kittens. I thought we were picking flowers?”
Olivia smiled, eyes crafty. “Oh yes, well, we are also playing with the kittens, so I didn’t really lie, did I?” she giggled.
We shared a grin as we headed for the stables. The smell of horse sweat and old leather teased our noses as we entered through the double barn doors.
“Harold, were here to see the kittens in the loft, is that okay?” Olivia asked him.
Harold, arthritic fingers gripping a pitchfork, was mucking one of the horse stalls. His frame was bent and skin leathered and dark from his time in the sun wrangling horses in his youth. His exterior often matched his gruff personality, but he had a soft spot for kids. “Sure, go ahead. While you’re up there, could you shove a couple bales of hay down for me? Save me the climb.
At the top of the loft both of us stuck our heads out and looked down to where Harold waited, shoving the two closest bales over. They hit the ground with a plop, one of them busting wide. No matter, they were going straight away into the mangers to feed the stock. A throaty nicker from below from one of the draft horses wafted up.
Then our attention was taken up by the tumbling bits of fluff that toddled in our direction. There were three kittens. Mama was missing, probably out mousing for their dinner. My eyes drew to the calico kitten and I sighed as I scooped her up, rubbing my chin against the soft fur as she purred and dug her nails into my skin.
We enjoyed the kittens and spent a peaceful half hour there before climbing back down the way we’d come.
“Thanks Harold.” Olivia added. We exchanged a grin. Harold had kicked back in a rickety wooden chair, feet crossed in front of him and a hat over his face. He was snoring loud enough to stir the pigeons in the rafters. We left the way we’d come.
#
THE BEST FLOWERS GREW on the south end of town where the sun shone brightest in a little empty field. We collected a colorful rainbow of red chickweed, purple calendula, and blue chicory among others until we had enough to put together a pretty arrangement for Isla’s birthday.
“I have that bit of string for you to tie these off in when we’re done.” I reminded her. I added, “when we get back to the house we should snip the stems clean. They’ll last longer that way.”
Olivia nodded. “Marvelous idea. I’m done here, I think we have plenty.”
I straightened with a wince and arched the small of my back. I froze when I realized we weren’t alone. I nudged Olivia to get her attention.
“Well, isn’t this a sight? Two lovely ladies picking flowers on a Saturday Afternoon in the sunshine.”
Olivia turned with a moue of surprise, her eyes widening at the sight of the sturdy young man who stood in the shade of a maple tree watching them.
Both girls wondered how long he’d been there.
I scowled in irritation. He was a tall youthful man of maybe sixteen. His shoulders were just beginning to widen towards manhood. Dark hair and blue eyes roved over us both enough to be disconcerting. I didn’t like the way they lingered on me.
He stood cocksure and full of himself, which only further confirmed my poor first impression of his manners.
“Spying you mean, don’t you?” I added, just shy of rude.
“Elspeth!” Olivia hissed, shocked. She casually brushed at the tendrils of her own dark hair that had sprung loose around her face in a frizzy halo.
“I’m sorry, excuse my friend, she doesn’t get out much. We didn’t catch your name?”
He stepped away from the tree. “James Corwin. And you are?” He addressed us both, but his eyes were hot on me.
“No...” I denied him. Olivia interrupted her with an ominous look in my direction. I narrowed my eyes and snapped my mouth shut.
“I’m Olivia Thompson and my rude friend is Elspeth Walsh. My daddy owns the mercantile,” she added, as if that made some difference.
I wanted to roll my eyes all over again but controlled the impulse.
I was curious about something, though. “Corwin, is that any relation to Jonathan Corwin, the magistrate.”
He smiled at me and puffed out his chest. “It is. That’s my father.” He’d all but ignored Olivia’s own claim to self-importance. I didn’t respond. I was sure James wasn’t ready to hear my opinion on the monster I thought his father was. Jonathon Corbin had been very influential in the witch trials and the indictments following the accusations. His interrogation tactics were well known and feared.
Beside me, Olivia simpered and I wanted to slap her. “Your father has done a lot for the good people of Salem in rooting out the source of the evil that is upon us.” She murmured approvingly, in a stilted voice.
I looked at her sharply. As against allowing witches in town as she was, even Olivia had admitted that she thought the magistrates were wrong for the shady methods they used to encourage confessions.
His eyes moved briefly over Olivia, before coming back to remain on me with interest.
Olivia tried once more to gain his undivided attention. I was of the mind that she could have it. Something about the casual freshness of James Corwin’s gaze gave me the willies.
She spoke up. “I’ve seen you in church haven’t I? Don’t you stand at the back a lot with your father and John Hathorne?”
A hint of irritation flashed in his eyes as he turned to answer her. “Yes, we usually get there right at the end, though. Dad has been so busy at work, what with the recent rash of criminal activity and the over-crowded jails.”
Olivia nodded, her smile brilliant and her eyes focused on his handsome face.
He turned back to me. “Elspeth is it? I don’t believe I’ve seen you around here before? Do you not attend the reverend Parris’s service?”
I glared back. “We live up the way out of town a spell. I don’t always get to town for service. When our family does, we attend Reverend Mather’s,” I admitted.
He frowned. “Reverend Mather’s? Not my cup of tea, but he has a great reputation with the common folk in town.”
My eyes narrowed, and he realized what he’d implied. He rushed to recover his words. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, a lot of the hard-working farmers find his service very enlightening,” he amended.
I gave him a cool smile. “That’s okay. I’ve found that us ordinary folk are an honest lot. We see the truth and base our opinions on fact rather than supposition.”
He blinked, trying to follow the conversation and figure out where he’d lost control of it.
Olivia spoke back up. “The church is having another picnic this Sunday. Are you going to be there?”
James’ eyes slid away from me with reluctance. “Probably. Will you ladies be attending as well?”
I opened my mouth, the denial on my tongue when Olivia cut me off.
“Elspeth won’t be. She’s not coming to church with me this weekend. But I’ll be there.”
Ignoring her, James turned to Elspeth. “Really? That’s too bad. You should come. The reverend gives an animated service that’s quite entertaining.”
Olivia watched James; his eyes glued to Elspeth’s rigid figure. Hers frosted over by several degrees.
I couldn’t resist the taunt, “So I’ve heard. I’m afraid I’m busy this weekend helping my mother in her herb garden. I won’t be attending.” Though I know she’d been thinking of herself, I was grateful to Olivia for the opportunity to excuse myself from something I didn’t want to do in the first place. I pivoted in Olivia’s direction, my fingers damp as I squeezed the stems on the flowers too tight. My too short skirt billowed with the quick movement, revealing a flash of ankle. James’ interested gaze hadn't missed the sight, or Olivia’s bitter one.
“The flowers are wilting and I have to get home. Are you ready to go?”
Olivia’s eyes sparked as she turned back to James. “It was nice to meet you. Maybe we’ll see you around.” She finished, voice cooler than before.
James tipped his hat. “Miss Olivia, Miss Elspeth, a pleasure.”
I tipped my head, barely civil, in his direction.
Together we turned towards town. I could feel James’ sharp-eyed gaze in the middle of my back as we walked away and I shivered.
#
OLIVIA STARTED IN AS soon as we were out of earshot. “What was that? You were rude. I thought you had better manners...” Olivia whined when we were down the road a piece, the sound grating on my nerves.
I interrupted, my temper sparking. “Look, I don’t like him. Don’t like his father and that’s enough for me. If you like him, I give you my complete blessing.”
Olivia wasn’t convinced. “I think you were playing hard to get. Boys can’t resist that, that’s what Mama says.”
Elspeth rolled her eyes. “I’m impossible for him to get is what, because I’m not interested.”
#
OLIVIA PURSED HER LIPS and looked away, unconvinced. She hadn’t missed the gleam in James’ eyes as he glimpsed Elspeth’s flash of skin. Mama was right. Maybe Elspeth wore her skirts that short on purpose. Maybe she’d been wrong about Elspeth.
#
AT DINNER THAT NIGHT she told her mother all about it. “I can’t believe she flirted with James Corbin like that. Shameful is what it was. She pretended like she didn’t like him. She was rude to him, with no manners at all. But all the time I think she was stringing him along.”
Isla nodded, her eyes cruel with self-righteous indignation. “I told you she couldn’t be trusted. Those families that live up that way out of town? They are nothing like us. Trash if you ask me.”
Mr. Thompson attempted to speak up. “Now ladies, really is that any way...”
“I think it is, yes. Olivia has got to be taught the ways of the world and that includes understanding those that are less well off than we are. Poor like that, with no manners or decorum. I knew she was a shameless trollop the first time I saw her, with those skirts...”
“They are poor. They can’t afford to clothe those kids and keep everything scandal free; they grow too fast...”
“Nonsense, and for you to make excuses makes me wonder if maybe you like it that her skirts are so high? You have eyes enough for Moira Walsh when she comes into town with all that bright orange hair.”
“Red...” he started and snapped his mouth shut. It was too late.
“So you have noticed! They don’t even go to church every Sunday. Law requires it by Puritan standards.”
Olivia was warming to her subject. “She showed James Corbin her ankles on purpose, Mama, whirling that skirt so it flew right up in the air. I know she did it to get his attention. She was leading him on. What he’d want with some poor farm girl I don’t know. I mean, I come from an excellent family, don’t I.”
Isla’s eyes frosted. “Of course you do, you come from the best,” she soothed.
Oliva nodded. “And she has that awful skin condition. I bet when he gets a look at that he won’t be so keen on Miss Elspeth Walsh!” she hissed.
Mr. Thompson, who had lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, spoke up. “What condition are you talking about? Mrs. Thompson makes her own skin creams. I’d think she’d have something for that if she’s got a rash.”
Isla’s eyes narrowed on her husband, but she spoke to Olivia. “Yes, what are you talking about? I’ve seen her hands and face. Unless you count those unsightly freckles from being in the sun, she looks healthy enough.”
Olivia shrugged. “I don’t know. When we were berry picking the other day she broke out in these like hives. Her skin got brown and splotchy and looked like it was flaking off. It was like hives, sorta. Although she was better by the time we went to bed.”
Isla’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. “I think you should reconsider your choice in friends, Olivia. I’m not sure Elspeth and her family are an appropriate influence.”
Olivia frowned and then brightened. “Well, she’s not coming to church this weekend.”
Isla stared at her daughter in some confusion. “So, what’s that got to do with anything?”
Olivia’s eyes went dreamy. “James will be there.” Was all she said.
“Olivia Thompson, you are too young for boys!” she stated, alarmed.
Olivia nodded and dipped her head demurely, hiding a smile. She wasn’t too young for that boy.
#
I PULLED THE LAST OF the pungent bunch of wild garlic up, shaking off the roots but collecting every other part of the leafy plant with its tiny purple flowers that I’d pulled from along the north facing hill of the Green River. The sun was high, shining on the bright purple petals, the cones reaching upwards. One more herb to complete what mama needed. She’d make it into a tincture to ward off asthma and shortness of breath. I turned to look at the river as it meandered slowly in both directions, wide and clear. A great fishing river that my brother’s and Da frequented when they were all in the mood for a little trout for the dinner table.
I collected my basket and moved further upstream. I was almost done. My eyes moved back and forth over the hill, looking for the large white heads of Valerian. It was the last herb on my list and I’d be heading back to help Mama with supper. The warmth of the morning sun beat down on my white-capped head, making sweat pool along my brow. I used a piece of muslin I’d draped around my neck and dipped it in the cool river water to wipe at the grime and sticky dampness. It was a welcome relief and I closed my eyes in relief.
“So you weren’t feeding me a line about that.” A deep voice mused.
My eyes flashed open in shock and I squealed in surprise as I jerked around. A tall shadow, back lit by the sun, stood on top of the bank. James Corwin, legs spread, hands on his hips, stared down at me in sardonic amusement.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, less than kindly. I was not fond of unexpected surprises.
He stared at me with interest, his eyes sliding along my throat where the water droplets pooled and disappeared beneath the neckline of my high-necked collar. More than a few wispy platinum tendrils had escaped the hasty bun I’d thrown up that morning, straggling in a dangle from beneath my bonnet to hang over my shoulder.
“Fishing, I was dipping the pole and hoping to come up with a fat trout for supper.” He said, eyes continuing to rove without permission or welcome to my mind.
I shrugged. “I had no reason to lie. It’s common knowledge that I walk the banks of this river and through the woods looking for the proper herbs and roots for what Mama makes.
He looked at her with suspicion. “What is she making, anyhow? Why doesn’t she just get her medicine from the Good Doctor in town like everyone else?”
I scoffed. “I wouldn’t trust the good doctor to fix a sprained wrist. I trust my Mama to know what’s best. She’s been helping people in these mountains as long as I’ve been alive.” I stared at James, using my hand to shield the sun as I looked up. I didn’t like that his face was in the shadows, making his expression difficult to read.
“Strange coincidence. Running into you though.” I noted. I wound the still damp cloth around my neck and tied a small knot to keep it in place. Picking up my basket, I climbed to the top of the bank. At the last minute he bent down and offered me a hand over the edge. I thought to ignore it but couldn’t come up with a principled reason for my continued rudeness. Mama had taught me better than that.
The clamminess of his fingers as he clasped my hand and pulled me up sent a shiver of revulsion down my spine. As he pulled me abreast of the hill he gave a sharp, unexpected tug. I stumbled forward, losing my balance. I gasped and threw up my arms to brace myself as I fell into him.
Laughing, instead of pushing me away, he snugged me closer as if I’d purposely thrown myself at him. He nuzzled my mussed hair aside and tried to nuzzle my neck.
Trembling, growling with outrage, I wrenched myself free. “What are you doing, sir? I did not ask for your attentions.” I ground out, incensed.
He scowled, his mouth drawing into what resembled a pout of temper. He reached out and grabbed my arm. “Of course you did. You all but attacked me, coming at me like that.”
I Stared at him in amazement, doubting anyone could be that dense. My temper spiked. I felt my cheeks heat with color and my skin burn where he’d touched me. I stared at his hand, still on my person.
“Let me go, James Corwin.” I hissed.
He laughed and squeezed tighter. “Stop playing games. You know you like me. All the girls do.” He said, self-importance thick in his voice.
My gaze should have frozen him where he stood.. “Not this girl. I’m not interested. If you don’t let go of me this instant I’m gonna scream so loud. I’ll tell your daddy you are accosting girls. You take liberties you’ve no right to.” I bit out, shaking with rage.
With a snort of disgust, he released me, thrusting me away. “Do you really think they’re gonna believe you? Do you know who my daddy is? You should be grateful I’m willing to give you the time of day.”
I snorted, temper spiking so high I saw red. “Oh yeah, I know who your daddy is alright.” I sneered, backing away. He kept pace, stalking me, the idiot. His brows were steepled in anger as he followed.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Just who do you think you are? Miss high and mighty. You think you’re too good for me or what?”
I struggled to keep my mouth shut, but my temper got the better of me. “I Know I am.” I hissed.
Face turning purple with rage, James stepped forward once more and snagged my wrist. My skirt’s twisted about my ankles and I fell backwards onto my backside, the basket tumbling from my nerveless fingers.
Suddenly James released me with a strange look on his face, his eyes glued to my exposed forearms and the brownish scales that now covered them. With a gasp of shock, I yanked my sleeves down and jerked my arms into my lap to hide them, itching furiously.
“What’s that. What’s all over your arms?” He shrieked in horror, looming above me where I huddled on the ground.
I thought fast. “It’s a skin condition. What, I’m not proud of it. It comes on when I’m scared or mad.” I lied.
He scowled at me. “Let me see it, I don’t believe you.” He threatened, taking a step forward.
I cringed away from him. “Stay away from me James Corwin, you hear? I’m not showing you anything you—you pervert! Leave me alone.”
He hesitated, incredulous. “What did you just say?”
I scrambled to my feet, keeping my sleeves pulled down. I started picking up the scattered herbs and shoving them back in the discarded basket, many of them trampled and wilting in the dirt.
“You heard me. What do I have to do to convince you to go away? You should pay attention to Olivia. She likes you.”
He snorted. “That pinch-faced cow? Have you taken a good look at her mother? Can you imagine what Olivia will look like in ten years? On the other hand if you look like your mother I’d be fine with that.”
I cast a surreptitious glance at the back of my hands. Just freckles, the scales had receded. I sighed in relief.
“Look James, I’m not trying to be mean, I’m just not into boys yet, okay?” I tried. Maybe if I reasoned with him...
James slanted me a sly look, ignoring anything he didn’t want to hear. “Wonder what my dad would say about you leading me on and that strange skin condition...”
“And I wonder what he would say if he knew you were stalking girls putting your hands on them uninvited.”
“I was fishing,” he started.
“Where’s the fishing pole James?”
His guilty expression said it all.
“Leave me alone and I won’t tell. We’ll just forget this ever happened. How does that sound?”
His mouth grew tight in a mutinous line. “Better watch yourself, Elspeth Walsh. People round here don’t cotton to those what think they’re better than everyone else.”
I watched him stalk off, back ramrod straight, a swagger he didn’t bother to hide to his step. Like you James?
I gripped the handles to my basket with white knuckles. The back of my hands itched and I scratched the stiff hairs there. A few of them had flattened into tiny brown scales once more. I didn’t trust him not to blab, not a bit.