# # # # #

The neighbors, Fiske and Porter moved on. “Notice they don’t truck with anyone but their own kind, that bunch,” muttered Porter.

Fiske lit his pipe. He carried wood on his back. He had no ox or cart or horse or cow. “Not unlike the Putnams, the Wilkinses, and you Porters,” he muttered. “Clannish, alla ya.”

“Shut up, Fiske.”

Fiske held hand to ear, a bit deaf. “Whatever did ya say, Mr. Porter? What’d ye say?”

“I said, shut up!”

“Last I looked it was a free road we travel together, Mr. Porter.”

“Free road, aye, but one that bedevils a man. Men like us with nothing, Fiske, we got no freedom from work and sweat—not even on a Sabbath. But look at all them folk o’er your shoulder.”

“Can’t do it—not with this load on me back.”

“Them Nurses and Cloyse folk, neither at meeting nor work. Now that’s being a true freeman!”

“I suppose.”

“It’s by design, sir, but by whom is the design writ up?”

“I’m told they are good at working their fields in teams, these three families.”

“And I am asking who or what blesses their efforts?”

“Who or what do you say, sir?”

“I say naught. I am a simple man without answers.”

“Only questions, eh?”

“ Our lot in life.”

“Aye.”

“I ask who smiles on them so to come to their wealth so handily?”

“Why . . . God, of course.”

“Not necessarily so.”

“But if not God . . . then by whom are they blessed?”

“By whom or what, I say. They make a circle of themselves, food in abundance, build a fire in the snow as if to fly in the face of nature and God—all on a Sabbath Day.”

“Do you think it so? This suspicion of yours?”

“Suspicions. I have many. You tell me, sir.”

“Harrr.” Fiske shivered. A-Are you saying? Nay, can’t-magine it’s true.”

“Imagine it, imagine it. Our minister does.”

“No! It’s Mr. Parris’ belief?”

“Aye, ’tis true. Too true.”

They came to a fork in the road. “I-I take my leave here.” Fiske had let his pipe die.

“You live in the hollow near Topsfiled?”

“I do, why?”

“Tell people there what you saw at the Nurse home. Let people draw their own conclusions, as we have.”

“We have? I’ve drawn none, sir, and I think it best left alone.”

“Precisely what cunning folk ask of us. Leave it alone.”

“Then I am a genius. Leave it be is what I say.”

“Fool!” shouted Porter after the man. “Leave it be until it bites your arse, Fiske! Leave it till it overruns us!”

Fiske rushed back at Porter. “What? Until what overruns us? Speak plain, man! I am no riddler.”

At that instant, one of the cart’s wheels unexpectedly and without fanfare other than a creaking scream, fell off. Fiske came around to look at the damage, and Porter leapt down to assess it as well. Porter pointed at the wheel. “That’s what I’m talking about. Right there, Mr. Fiske.”

“Why, it’s a busted axel.”

“Naught a busted axel so much as witchcraft.”

“Witchcraft?”

“Aye! Witchcraft against those like me.”

“Those like you?”

“Men who stand with the minister in Salem Village.”

“Really?”

“Men who bear witnesss.”

“Witness?”

“Dare go near that clan which haf’nough food on their table to feed the whole colony.”

Chapter Fourteen

Twenty minutes passed and Jeremiah climbed from the boulder he’d been sitting on, his horse grazing nearby. She’s not coming, he told himself, going for the horse. He took reins in hand, angry with himself for going to see her when he did—worst possible timing. Should never have barged in that way. It’d been the absolute worst demonstration of bad taste and behavior on his part, putting her on the spot that way. He realized it now and he kicked at the earth to release some of the anger he felt at himself.

Surrounded as she was by family, many of whom no doubt had made her feel ill-at-ease all these years for having fallen in love with the wrong man, and worse, holding on to a false hope that the miscreant might return. A fellow whose history had been sordid at best.

How could she be herself? How could I’ve been so foolish to think it possible with all the naysayers within shouting distance? What bloody chance did we have given my long absence? What kind of fool am I to ride up like that?

He likewise wondered how often had Serena denied any thought of him, denied any love loss over him? How much she surely must’ve worked to repudiate him and disallow any passion for Jeremy? What choice had she but to run him off at the end of a scattergun?

He was about to lift onto his horse, one foot in the stirrup, when a rustle of brush sounded behind him. He turned to see Serena had ridden out to find him. No doubt to have it out with him, this time verbally. He wondered if the blunderbuss might not be preferable.

“God, you’re beautiful!” he cried out to her as she approached on a Roan. She looked quite the equestrian, handling the mare expertly.

She said nothing, slid from her horse, and rushed at him. She threw her arms around him and held firm. “I loved you!” she said in her ear. “I so loved you, and now you’ve come back, and I hate you!” She roughly pushed him away.

He was taken aback, unsure what to say. He reached out, surprised she didn’t back off. He then wrapped his arms about her, saying nothing for a long time. “I have never stopped loving you.”

She again pushed him away as if he carried some horrid disease. “What sort of lie is that?” She lashed out at him, slapping him hard across the face. “Ten years, Jere—oh, my Jere! Ten long years my heart has been imprisoned.”

“What had I to offer you, Serena? I had nothing. I was no one!”

“You were my love!” She began to openly cry, cursing herself for a fool, swiping at her nose with a kerchief and walking in a tight little circle until she settled on staring out at the boulders in the river. “I never asked for more from you than your love.”

“But Salem did.”

“Salem, to hell with Salem! I’d’ve gone with you, Jere!”

“I couldn’t’ve taken you into the wilderness.”

“What wilderness?”

“Maine.”

“I see, so it’s been Maine all this time?”

“I joined the military.”

“Really?”

“Fought in battles against the heathens.”

“How exciting for you.” Her tone of sarcasm wasn’t wasted on him.

“And-And I began to study.”

“For the ministry, I see.”

“Can you keep my secrets?”

She looked queerly at him. “I don’t know. What secrets?”

“I’ve a confession but it must not go beyond us—not even to those in your family, including your mother.” Jeremy knew that a special bond existed between Serena and Rebecca.

“Confession?” she asked.

“Promise?”

“All right, promise.”

“I am no minister.”

“Not yet, but you’re in Parris’ apprenticeship.”

“I am and I am not.” They began circling one another.

“What is this? A riddle?”

“All a ruse, I assure you.”

“A ruse?” She looked him up and down. “You’re staying in Parris’ house, going about the village with him on house calls, studying for the ministry.”

“Nay, I said I went off to Maine to study.”

“Studying what in Maine, war?”

“People.”

“People?”

“And the law of the Commonwealth.”

“Law?”

“Correct. British law.”

Serena took in a long, deep breath. “Then your coming in from Boston as Mather’s man to be apprenticed to—”

“A hoax, but you mustn’t reveal it to anyone.”

“A hoax?”

“Pretense more like.”

“Pretense,” she repeated. “You are not studying for the cloth?”

“I hope to be a barrister one day.”

“A magistrate?”

“A lawyer. A magistrate one day, perhaps.”

“Are you then a-a spy of some sort then? A spy for Increase Mather?”

“Aye, and I still have work to do in the parsonage house.”

He could see that she was trying to understand this news. “They say you were sent from Boston by Reverend Mather.”

“That much is true.”

“Old Reverend Higginson’s likely on his deathbed, and yet he’s somehow got our concerns heard in Boston, is that it?”

“You know more of politics than I would’ve guessed.”

“Then I am right?”

“I was sent here to illuminate the situation for Boston authorities; to clarify the exact nature of the problem in the village parish.”

She stepped away, staring out over the river again. In a moment, she was leaning into the boulder where he’d earlier sat, hoping against hope. This had always been their special place.

“Well?” he began. “Say something.”

“You’re here to ridicule and—”

“Nooo, never.”

“—and shame the villagers—”

“I tell you no, Serena.”

“F-For what they did to you and your father and mother.”

“I’ve not come with spite or vengeance in my—”

“And who’s to blame you?”

“Serena, I came back for you!” He leaned into her and kissed her, passionately and long. She returned his kiss. When they broke away, she blinked and said, “One moment I’m threatening you with a gun, and the next I’m kissing you. Some people might call that enchantment.”

“I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve put you through.” Jeremy stoked her light-dappled blonde hair with a nervous hand, but she did not pull away. “And I wouldn’t blame you for a moment putting shrapnel in me, turning up like this. But Serena, you must have gotten my letter?”