Bewitching Familiar Page 20

  Elizabeth went to the Indian and put her hand on the arm that had held the knife at Abigail’s chest. She spoke softly in the language that sounded like water running over rocks. When she finished speaking, Lotuk nodded, then spoke again.

  Unable to completely hide her smile, Elizabeth turned back to Samuel. “Lotuk says he accepts Abigail’s decision, but that you must marry her right now or he will do what you cannot.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The ceremony was brief and simple, but Abigail knew that no formal church wedding would ever touch her as deeply. Whether they repeated their vows in their own time in a more traditional ritual or not, she and Samuel were married. At least, in 1692. When—and if—they returned to the future, she had no idea what memories they would have of this time. Would they even recall that they had exchanged vows of marriage? There were no guarantees.

  Abigail felt the warmth of Samuel’s hand as he held hers. There had been no ring—no need for one in the Indian ceremony. But Abigail didn’t feel the lack of some metal symbol. Her love for Samuel was apparent in her eyes, as was his love for her.

  The pressure on her fingers increased, and at Samuel’s bidding she moved slightly away from the small gathering. After the days of separation, she longed to be alone with him. Even his hand clasping hers made sensual images dance in her head, and the flush of desire began to build.

  “Abigail, we have to get moving,” he said, looking around for Familiar. The cat had been conspicuously absent from the ceremony. In fact, he’d not made an appearance in the village at all, which was probably for the best since it would be just another thing that would need a lengthy explanation. And Samuel wasn’t certain he’d be able to explain Familiar. Not now or ever.

  “Are we going to Boston?” Abigail had no desire to return to Salem.

  “I’ll take you there, but I have to return to the village. God knows what atrocities have been committed in my absence.” He spoke with an edge of desperation. His gray eyes went from happy to deeply troubled. “I wish we could simply turn our backs and leave.” His gaze trailed from her eyes to her lips, and he reached up to gently touch them. “I want nothing more than to be with you. Just the two of us. This isn’t my time or my choice of places to live, but I could find happiness anywhere with you. We could make a life for ourselves, if it wasn’t for what’s happening to the innocent people in Salem.”

  Abigail felt the tremendous burden of her task settle back around her shoulders. For the duration of her “capture” by the Indians and the simple beauty of the brief ceremony, she’d been able to forget about Salem, and about everything else. Now it was all back, worse than ever, because she’d had a few moments to taste her dreams, to fantasize about a happy future with Samuel.

  “Maybe Elizabeth and Sanshu will take me to Boston.” She looked at the two, so obviously in love, and so obviously in a hurry to get back to their own responsibilities.

  “No, Elizabeth has told me that she had come to the forest to look for certain herbs for medicines. There are so many sick people in Sanshu’s tribe. That’s why Lotuk and these others are here alone. They left to avoid the smallpox and to gather medicines for her.”

  “They have no immunity,” Abigail said. “I could help with them. I’ve been vaccinated.” Abigail knew even as she spoke that it was a false offer. Taking care of the sick was not her task. She’d been sent back three hundred years for the witch trials, and she knew it.

  “I’ve been vaccinated, too, but that won’t take care of Salem.” His tone was grim.

  Abigail turned to him. “I hate that place. I hate those people.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I don’t want to go back, Samuel. And I don’t want you to go. I’m afraid they’re going to kill us.”

  “I know.” He couldn’t lie and pretend that he was sure of the outcome. He didn’t want to go back, either. They were a bleak people with lives centered around their fears. “But we have to go back.”

  Abigail nodded, finally gaining control of her emotions. “Of course we do. And we’ll figure out how to stop it.” She forced a smile as she looked up at him.

  Elizabeth approached them, her worry apparent in the expression on her face. “I can see by your faces that Salem is the destination you’ve chosen,” she said.

  Abigail sighed. “Samuel will go back. I’m going to Boston to try to gain an audience with the governor.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “The woman with the scarlet letter on her chest, she made it safely to Boston with her child. Did she not go to seek an audience with the governor?”

  “How do you know she’s safe?” Abigail was surprised by Elizabeth’s revelation. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about Hester and Pearl. But why hadn’t the governor come?

  “Sanshu followed them to be sure they made the journey safely. He knew they were trying to help.” Elizabeth picked up Abigail’s hand and held it. “Don’t go back to Salem. You will swing from the end of a rope as surely as we stand here.”

  A chill of premonition ran across Abigail’s body. That was the image she’d seen so clearly—a gallows and a rope and her.

  “Abigail’s going to Boston.” Samuel spoke with determination.

  Still holding Abigail’s hand, Elizabeth picked up Samuel’s. “They’ll hang you just as quickly as her.” She looked from one to the other. “Instead of trying the powers of reason on the people of Salem, I have thought of an alternative.” The spark of possibility made her eyes shine.

  “What?” Samuel and Abigail spoke in unison.

  “I left many herbs in my home.”

  “We know.” Abigail rolled her eyes and quickly told Elizabeth of the death of the guard.

  “The herb you chose was correct.” Elizabeth shook her head. “He must have taken something else. Squaw brush is harmless, even in great quantities.”

  “What’s your plan?” Samuel pushed her to continue. The afternoon was slipping away from them and he wanted to be on the trail. With each hour, more innocent people were being condemned to hang. Now that Abigail was safe, he couldn’t stop thinking about the people of Salem.

  “You could put the entire village to sleep.” She squeezed their hands. “It sounds silly, I know. But it could be done. With enough of the herbs and some cooperation, it could be done. And while the people slumbered, the prisoners could be released from the dungeon.”

  “And then what? Where would they go? They’d only be recaptured again.” Abigail felt the sting of disappointment that Elizabeth’s plan wasn’t logical.

  Elizabeth’s eyes began to shine. “Not if an angel of the Lord appeared and told the people of Salem that witches had been cleansed from the village.”

  Abigail looked at Samuel. The idea was farfetched enough to work. If the townspeople believed that Satan was running amok in Salem, why wouldn’t they believe angels were tramping around?

  “How would we get everyone in town to use a drug?” Samuel asked.

  “That is the most difficult part.” Elizabeth’s voice gained in excitement. “But if there were a gathering, a meeting, and someone provided some very fine tea or cider as part of the festivities…”

  Samuel nodded. “Many would drink it.”

  “Appleton wouldn’t pass up free calories,” Abigail noted, then saw the curious look Elizabeth shot at her. “Calories is a new word for food,” she explained. “He’s a glutton. He eats everything.”

  “Yes, I recall that.” Elizabeth’s distaste for the man was not hidden.

  “It’s a very risky plan.” Samuel was trying to calculate the odds of getting everyone in the village to drink enough of anything to put them out. It would be hard, but not impossible. Especially if they offered a drink that no one had heard of—which could be anything from lemonade to milk shakes in Salem Village. “But would the people of the town take anything I offered? They think that I’m a sympathizer with the witches.” He shook his head in disgust at the foolishness.

  “There is someone who will help you.” Elizabeth
signaled Sanshu to join them.

  “Who?” Abigail asked.

  “Her sister has been accused, and she will do whatever she can to stop this terrible thing.”

  “Georgianna March,” Abigail said softly.

  “Yes.” Elizabeth nodded. “She has befriended Sanshu and me in the past. She is the one who helped me gather the herbs, and she even helped me with the sick children of Sanshu’s tribe.”

  “The people of Salem respect Georgianna.” For the first time Abigail began to think the plan might actually have a chance. It was farfetched and crazy, but so was what was already happening.

  “Are you positive she’ll help us?” Samuel had learned to trust no one. “I mean, we could die if she agreed and then changed her mind.”

  “I’ll approach her. We have to have her help, Samuel. I don’t have enough herbs.” Elizabeth put her arm around Sanshu’s waist. “Perhaps if we teach the people of the village to treat each other with more kindness, they’ll learn to treat the Indians with kindness and respect.”

  It was a noble thought, and Samuel didn’t want to drown it in the cold water of reality, so he said nothing. “Okay, let’s give it a try.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Then we have to go back to Salem. We can gather some of the things we’ll need along the way.”

  Samuel moved behind Abigail and gently wrapped his arms around her. “I guess we won’t be alone tonight, after all. And I was looking forward to the nuptial bed.” He squeezed her against him, feeling the instant desire for her that any contact brought.

  Abigail molded her body against his, shifting so that his arms came under her breasts and held her more intimately. “Now that we’re married, we don’t have time for that foolishness.” She could barely suppress her giggle as she waited for his reaction.

  Samuel stilled against her for a brief second. Then he bent to whisper in her ear, moving his lips softly in the way he knew she liked. “I’ll keep that in mind when we finally get back to 1995. I don’t believe an Indian marriage is valid in the eyes of the law, so I suppose we’ll have to live together in sin.”

  Abigail chuckled. He was a hard man to best, even when she thought she’d gained the upper hand. “Touché.”

  Elizabeth signaled them to follow her, and they said their goodbyes to the Indians who had played captor and host. Abigail took Lotuk’s hand. She looked into his eyes as she held his hand, then stood on tiptoe to put a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Turning, she took Samuel’s arm.

  “Exactly what were you thanking him for?” Samuel asked.

  Abigail squeezed his arm. “Because he could have hurt me. He could have felt that I was more trouble than I was worth and left me in the woods. He could have done a number of things to me, but he didn’t.”

  Samuel put his arms around her. “Thank goodness for that, Abigail. I don’t think I’ll ever complain about the danger of city streets when we get home. The truth is, I think we’ll go to my apartment, lock the door, have pizzas delivered for three weeks and hide out. Maybe we’ll never leave.”

  Abigail laughed at the picture he presented. “So, you live in an apartment?”

  He nodded. “I’m beginning to remember a few more details about my personal life, but not much. Maybe that’s the key. Maybe we have to remember before we go back.”

  “In that case, we’re still in trouble. I don’t remember anything except Familiar getting hit by your car. Speaking of Familiar, where is he?”

  Samuel looked back at the tree where they had both sat watching the Indians. He found the dark shape of the cat, asleep on the limb. “He’s there,” he said, indicating with his head. “Asleep.”

  “Familiar missed our marriage.” Abigail was amused. “That’s not like him.”

  “I don’t think Familiar cares for formal commitment.” Samuel looked at her and winked. “It’s a guy thing.”

  ABIGAIL was exhausted. The long trek back to the woods near Salem, the covert stealing of all herbs from Elizabeth’s house, the gathering of more herbs, the decision of what beverage to make—it had been one important thing after the next. And now there was only the meeting with Georgianna to plan the date.

  They had chosen a small glade in the woods where Sanshu could keep a lookout during the meeting. Abigail, Samuel and Elizabeth found seats on the roots of a big tree as they waited for the schoolteacher to arrive. She came through the trees with the grace of great self-discipline, and she brought a basket of cheese, bread and meat.

  As they ate the goodies she had prepared, Abigail, Samuel and Elizabeth listened with horror to the number of additional people who had died at the hands of the witch prosecutions. They had to act as soon as possible. And Georgianna brought news about Samuel—he was now wanted as a witch, along with Abigail.

  Brianna was still in jail, as was Tituba and a host of others, but the list of victims grew with each day as the girls, Emily and Mary, continued their accusations and Appleton and Hawthorne continued their prosecutions. Silas Grayson was busier than ever carrying out the edicts of the court, and snooping around Abigail’s house to see if she had returned.

  Georgianna urged Abigail and Samuel to move as quickly as possible before her sister was next in line for the hangman’s noose.

  “I think the mulled apples with spices is the best drink we can prepare,” Elizabeth said. She had gotten up to pace.

  “Why don’t we search for the ingredients?” Georgianna said, rising, also. “Abigail, you and Samuel have more knowledge of the official rooms of the court. Would it be possible for you to secure the keys? If we had them in our hands, it would save much time and guarantee the success of our venture.”

  Samuel hesitated. The magistrate’s building could easily be a death trap. But who else could do it? He knew the offices and the desks where the keys were kept. He looked around for Familiar. The cat had disappeared again, a habit that he was developing much to Abigail’s annoyance.

  He turned his attention back to Georgianna. “I can do that. Abigail can remain with Sanshu and begin to bring the water up to boil the apples.”

  “Someone should go with you as a lookout. If you’re detained, you could throw the keys out the window to the lookout, and then we could free you along with the others.” Georgianna looked around the group. “I could do that with no difficulty. No one suspects me.”

  “But I need your help,” Elizabeth said. She looked at Sanshu. Her Indian husband was out of the question.

  “That leaves me.” Abigail picked up the boy’s cap she had carried through all of her escapades. “I know they’re looking for me, but I can pass as a boy. It’s dangerous, but I can do it.”

  “No.” Samuel stood. “No. I won’t have you back in that village.”

  “There’s no other way.” Abigail rose, as passionate as he. “I won’t let you go down there alone without someone to serve as lookout. You’re as wanted as I am.”

  Elizabeth stepped between them as they glared at each other. “Samuel, it’s the best plan. Abigail is fast. She’ll be safe.”

  “It’s settled.” Abigail tucked her hair under her hat. “We’re a great team, Samuel. We can do this.” She smiled reassurance at him.

  Samuel didn’t say anything. His gut instinct told him not to consent, but all along he’d been tormented by the idea that something horrible would happen to Abigail and he wouldn’t be able to protect her. Maybe it was his own insecurities that nagged at him. Besides, he had no better plan. They couldn’t sit in the woods and wait for someone else to do the dangerous part.

  “Okay,” he said, nodding his head slowly. “It’s the best plan. But I still don’t like it. We’ll go tonight and get the keys.” He looked once again for Familiar. The cat was his ace in the hole, if he was around. Familiar could get into places Samuel couldn’t—and the cat could get out.

  “That means I have to have everything ready by noon tomorrow,” Georgianna said, clasping her hands in front of her. “I think noon would be
best. There will be a break in the trials for those attending to find refreshments. I can offer a cup to those who come out of the magistrate’s building.”

  “Yes.” Elizabeth nodded. “We’ll begin gathering the last of our ingredients now while Sanshu brings up the water to make the, uh, cider. Let’s be off. There’s no time for us to waste.”

  “Abigail and I will slip down to the village. We need to watch the magistrate’s building to be sure there’s no one there when we go in.”

  “Excellent.” Georgianna unclasped her hands, then brought them back together and squeezed them. “Excellent. We must succeed in this venture, or we’re all lost.”

  ALONE AT LAST. I think there was a great country song about just this topic. I’m referring to Pilgrim Man and Madame Mysterious, of course. They’ve found a little nook in the copse of trees on the hilltop that overlooks the village. It isn’t exactly what I define as secure, but it does provide a cozy little bower for the heavy petting that’s going on between them. Lucky for them, I’m sitting lookout. And what an interesting sight Salem Village is these days.

  There’s old Silas Gruesome down in the square, pointing fingers and taking names. Another list of victims to be accused of witchcraft, no doubt. I wonder why no one has accused him, because he’s mean as the very devil.

  There’s Fattie Appleton, along with that prickly old Hawthorne. The entire trio should be strung up and left for the crows. And throw in that lout Wadsworth. I’m certain he’s put his daughter Mary up to the majority of her stunts. There he is, big as life, circling the crowd.

  I suppose I shouldn’t be so graphic in my vengeance, but those guys are making a profit off the suffering of others, and it scalds me.

  Ah, there’s Georgianna, back in town. She said she had to go get sugar from the market. There isn’t time to find honey, and even though sugar is dear, she was willing to part with her money to buy some. Very generous woman. I suppose her sister’s life is at stake here. It’s strange, but fortuitous, that Georgianna hasn’t been charged.