Suffer a Witch

Chapter Four ~ part ten ~

 Chapter Four

~ part ten ~

“They woke up,” Em said. “The rest were worse — Sarah Good, Susannah, Elizabeth, and Sarah Wildes.”

“They were hanged in July,” George said. “Bridget in June.”

“If you can imagine, there was no embalming. It was a warm summer,” Em said. “It was . . . disgusting. The weird thing, well, the whole thing is weird, but a weird thing was that the people who were rotten didn’t mind being rotten.”

“We were happy to be alive,” George said.

Em nodded.

“I don’t know how long we were there,” Em said. “Gallows Hill was outside of town, but you could see it from every part of town. We were there most of the night, cleaning up and getting our functions back, some.”

“It took years for some of it to come back,” George said. “Especially for those of us who had been dead a while.”

“Giles,” Em said. “He had been pressed to death a couple days before I was hanged.”

“He was there, too?” Isaac asked.

“He was in with us,” Em said.

“The refuse pile,” George said.

“You remember that I had sons?” Em asked George.

“Two,” George said.

“An hour or so before dawn, I went to my teenaged son,” Em said. “He and I were very close. I knew he wouldn’t be afraid; I knew he would know me regardless of how crazy I looked. He didn’t say a word. Of course, I couldn’t talk. He got the horse and wagon he used for his apprenticeship and brought it to Gallows Hill. He and I moved everyone in the wagon. We had to move fast because dawn was coming. He took Alice home to her husband because she was so adamant. Everyone else, he took to a homestead ten miles or more outside of town.”

“Whose was that?” George asked.

“Mine,” Em said. “Well, my late husbands. He didn’t use it or claim it, because his parents died before they made it to the US.”

“They died in England?” George asked.

“Right,” Em said. “We’d been married in England. They asked us not to go, but . . . Anyway, the house had been torn down, but the barn was still there.”

“Barn,” George said. “Yes.”

“Someone had to go, get out of Salem Village, and figure out how we would survive,” Em said. “I was in the best shape, so it had to be me. My son dropped me with Alice. Luckily, John, Alice’s husband, let me tag along with them as far as Boston. They went on to the South — North Carolina, I think.”

“You just ‘woke up’?” Isaac asked.

Suffer a Witch continues...

Chapter Four ~ part nine ~

 Chapter Four

~ part nine ~

“You touched me,” George said. “I remember feeling this bright warmth come to me. I have dreams about it sometimes, and I feel . . . so safe, like I was finally safe after such a long time of wandering.”

George nodded.

“You were out of the ground,” Em said. “They didn’t bury him well. After a month . . . Well, you can imagine.”

“Took more than a year to heal,” George said.

Isaac nodded.

“How are you handling all of this?” Em asked.

“I’ve tried to work out every detail since I was told, Grandmother,” Isaac said. “My father as well.”

“And you’re all right with all of this . . . detail?” Em asked.

“Fascinated at the power of God,” Isaac said.

Em smiled at him and sat down in one of the armchairs in front of his desk.

“Where were we?” Em asked.

“Hanging, awakening,” George said. “Martha and John were hanged on my day.”

“George Jacobs and John Proctor, too, but their families came for them,” Em said.

“They didn’t become immortal?” Isaac asked.

“Not that we know of,” Em said.

“Just those of us actually in the crevice,” George said.

“It’s hard to explain,” Em said. “I thought . . . I mean, I don’t know why I thought this, but I did.”

She looked at George and then at Isaac.

“I thought maybe our hanging wasn’t done well,” Em said. “I mean, by the time I was hanged, people were already talking about ending the witch trials. I guess I figured we woke up because they’d botched the hangings. We hadn’t really been dead.”

“You weren’t revived from death but recovered from passing out,” Isaac said. “That’s denial. ‘They didn’t really do this to me. It didn’t really happen.’”

“Exactly. That’s what I believed until . . .” Em looked at George. “George and Martha . . . They were . . .rotten. Small animals had taken George’s fingers.”

“And we woke up,” George said. He took the armchair next to Em.

Suffer a Witch continues...

Chapter Four ~ part eight ~

 Chapter Four

~ part eight ~

“I smelled rotting flesh first,” Em smiled. “It was probably George rotting somewhere below.”

“Your first physical experience was the stench of me?” George laughed.

“True love,” Isaac said. Em and George laughed. “What happened next, Grandmother?”

“First the awful smell,” Em said. “And then I could hear things: the wind in the stand of Oak trees, the North River spilling into the bay, crickets, and animals moving in the dark. I’d lost my right eye in the hanging and . . . Well, there was nothing to see. I was under Alice, no Ann. I wiggled and moved and shoved and . . . Suddenly, the moon shone, and there I was — sitting in a crevice on the barren hill above town next to the bay.

“I reached for Ann, and she woke with a scream. I mean, we still looked like we’d been hanged. Our heads were like watermelons — bruised — our tongues hanging out. Our garments were soiled with the release brought by death. We couldn’t speak. Alice woke next and Mary Ayer. We were horrified to be awake and terrified of being found out. Always the doctor, Ann got us to wash on the edge of the bay. Sam woke, Margaret . . . I think Wilmot — no Mary woke last. By that time, we had a kind of assembly. Ann took them to the water. I helped stick their tongues in, straighten their heads, things like that.”

“Your necks didn’t break?” Isaac asked.

“Short drop and a slip knot,” George said. “It took us more than ten minutes to suffocate to death. It’s why they put the bag over our heads. They didn’t want to see our faces turn purple.”

“A couple of us had heart attacks,” Em said.

“And still came back?” Isaac asked.

Em nodded.

Suffer a Witch continues...

Chapter Four ~ part seven ~

 Chapter Four

~ part seven ~

“No, I did not know that,” Isaac said with a smile. “Stinker. He always has something up his sleeve.”

Em smiled. They turned a corner and then another before going through an open door to a warm, friendly office. Isaac took a seat behind his desk. George stopped to look at the photos on the wall. He pointed to one, and Em nodded.

“That’s 1905, Reverend,” Isaac said.

“Please, call me George,” he said. “As you may know, I wasn’t ever ordained, and, anyway, I haven’t been a Reverend in a long time.”

“George,” Isaac said. “I’m Isaac.”

“Plus, Em only calls me ‘Reverend’ when I’ve annoyed her,” George said.

Isaac laughed.

“How can I help?” Isaac asked.

“I wanted to know . . . everything.” George spoke up before Em could say anything.

Isaac looked at Em, and she gave a slight nod. Isaac got up and closed his office door.

“I have never heard the beginning of the story,” Isaac said. Used to helping people tell their truths, Isaac encouraged Em with a kind nod. He sat down. “You start. I will fill in what I know.”

Em swallowed hard and nodded.

“I remember waking up,” Em said.

“In your coffin?” Isaac asked.

“We were thrown into a mass grave,” George said. “They stacked us up in a crevice right next to the tree they hanged us on. I was hanged in August, so I was below Em. Em in September. She would have been near the top.”

“My group was the last of the hangings,” Em said. “I was near the top. I’m not sure why because I was hanged right after Sam. And . . .”

Em took a deep breath and sighed.

“I remember waking up,” Em said. “It was dark and close. I couldn’t feel my body. I tried to scream but nothing came out. I was terrified that this was the afterlife. There was no heaven, no God — nothing but this awful dark closeness . . . and silence.”

Caught up in her memory, Em stared into space.

“I smelled rotting flesh first,” Em smiled. “It was probably George rotting somewhere below.”

Suffer a Witch continues...

Chapter Four ~ part six ~

 Chapter Four

~ part six ~

“I do talk a lot,” George smirked. He made a show of closing his mouth. “Are you going to tell me?”

Em smiled. George tipped his head back and laughed. His laughter brought a large, middle-aged man with short dark hair and a beard with a white Yarmulke on his head to the door of the cultural center. Seeing Em, the man rushed to her, pulled her from the chair, and hugged her.

“Welcome, Grandmother,” the man said. “Welcome.”

The man let her go to look at her. He glanced at George.

“Is this George?” the man asked. He looked at Em, and she nodded. “Welcome, Reverend Burroughs!”

The man looked back at Em.

“This is a very good day,” the man said. The man looked expectantly to George and then to Em. “Are you going to introduce me?”

Em blushed and nodded.

“George, this is my grandson, Rabbi Isaac Peres,” Em said.

“Great-great-great — and then some — grandson,” Isaac said.

George’s face flushed with emotion.

“Yes, I know,” Isaac said. “One rabbi a generation with knowledge of our grandmother. That is how it’s been in my family since . . .”

Isaac looked at Em.

“1692,” Em said.

“1692,” Isaac said. “Will you come in?”

“George wants to know our story,” Em said to Isaac.

“Please do come in,” Isaac said. “We can talk in my office. I have pictures and . . .”

The man opened the Vilna Shul door and ushered them into the cool building. Em took the blue-grey lace scarf from around her neck and covered her head. George gestured to his head.

“Don’t worry,” Isaac said. “You are welcome here in any form, George Burroughs. Please, come inside our little center.”

They walked down a hall but had to stop as a class of third- or fourth-graders came past them.

“My father will be jealous,” Isaac said when the class had passed.

“You know he’s teaching Kabbalah at the store,” Em said.

“No, I did not know that,” Isaac said with a smile. “Stinker. He always has something up his sleeve.”

Suffer a Witch continues...

Chapter Four ~ part five ~

 Chapter Four

~ part five ~

“How?” she asked.

“I’m a wizard,” George grinned. He held out his arms, and she let him hug her. “I’ve survived my fair share of Em winters. I don’t really want to go through it again, especially now, when you’re in real trouble.”

“Em winter?”

“When you push me away, decide you’re going to do it all yourself,” George said. “God gave me immortality so I could spend it with you. I’m going to do just that.”

“And . . .”

“No ‘ands.’” George cut her off. He kissed her hair. “Do you want to tell me your plan?”

“My plan?”

“Why are we at a Jewish cultural center?” George asked.

“Have I ever told you about leaving Salem Village?” Em asked.

“No,” George said. “Not a word. Ever.”

“And how I got this name?” Em searched his face.

“I know that you’ve always hated your given name,” George said. “I’ve always called you ‘Em.’ I know that you insisted on being called ‘Emogene.’”

Em looked away from him. They were a building away from Vilna Shul. She took his hand and led him to the Vilna Shul. Taking a key from her purse, she unlocked the metal gate and gestured for him to go up the short flight of cement steps in front of the historic Jewish Center. He took a seat on an outdoor chair on the porch. She sat down next to him.

“I’ve never been here,” he said.

Em nodded.

“How . . .?” he started and then shook his head. “How is it that I feel like I know you so well, and you have a key to the gate? When did you become Jewish?”

Em smiled.

“How does one go from being a woman of Christ’s gospel to . . .?” George gestured around him. “And when? I rack my brain. When was the first time we reconnected after . . .”

He looked around to see if anyone was observing them.

“I’ll tell you if you ever stop talking,” Em said.

“I do talk a lot,” George smirked. He made a show of closing his mouth. “Are you going to tell me?”

Suffer a Witch continues...

Chapter Four ~ part four ~

 Chapter Four

~ part four ~

 After everyone left, she and George had argued over a best plan of action.

“If it’s up to me, then you can be damned sure I will take care of it,” Em had said.

“You don’t have to take care of it yourself!” George had said.

“Who’s going to help me?” Em had asked. Angry and exhausted, she couldn’t keep herself from saying, “If I count on you to help, you’ll just schedule another trip to save some stranger!”

George’s hurt face was icing on her already awful night. He’d grabbed his jacket and went down to do readings. She pretended to be asleep when he returned. He wasn’t fooled, but at least she didn’t have to talk to him. She got up this morning before he was awake.

If this was her problem, she was going to deal with it. Em groaned at herself.

Why did she have to be so stubborn?

Why couldn’t she share her life?

Em had always taken care of her own problems. No matter what happened in life, she soldiered on. Alone.

George hated that. She swallowed hard at what she knew was true. He loved her. He wanted to share her burdens. Certainly, he told her that enough.

But Em could live only one way: her problem, her responsibility. She’d gotten up this morning to get it done.

Turning onto Phillips Street, she saw George standing on the sidewalk up ahead, staring at Vilna Shul. She stopped walking. He turned to look at her. Even from this distance, she could see him grinning in a kind of “I found you” way. She dropped her head and rolled her shoulders forward in defeat. His shoes appeared on the sidewalk before her, and she looked up.

“How?” she asked.

Suffer a Witch continues...

Chapter Four ~ part three ~

 Chapter Four

~ part three ~

“For all of us,” Margaret had said.

Em watched the flicker of hope dance across Alice’s face. When Alice realized Em had noticed, she made a sad shrug. Em had no doubt that if there were ever a chance that they could leave this life, Alice would be the first one to go. John Willard jumped in to say that he’d not heard even a whisper about the Salem Twenty at the FBI, his current employer. He thought people were more concerned with terrorists from other places than homegrown witches. A sigh of relief went through them.

Then Martha Carrier spoke up. She said that Em was right. Increased technology meant increased surveillance. Their days of anonymity were numbered. As general counsel for the CIA, Martha knew of nothing that would stop various government agencies from detaining and extracting the information they needed from the Salem Twenty. A wave of frost went through the group. Never one to hold back, Martha went on to remind everyone to be careful of what they said — anywhere.

Susannah Martin and Mary Easty piped up to invite everyone to live with them in their Amish community in Pennsylvania. No cell phones. No worries. This led to a huge fight with Susannah, Mary, and Giles arguing a return to Puritan life against everyone else.

Of course, John thought they should leave for their islands in French Polynesia and wait for a more reasonable generation. This irritated Sarah Good, who thought of the islands as her personal property. Sarah Good said something smug, and they argued again. Ownership of the islands was put to rest by Martha, their resident lawyer, who assured everyone that the islands were owned by the Salem Twenty, LLC, which Em ran.

Fighting her bruised ego, Sarah Good had to have the final say. Never one to mince words, she told Em that, since she had seen the devil, it was up to her to work it out. They would expect either a resolution to the problem or Em’s report on her progress by July 19^th — Sarah Good’s hanging day.

Suffer a Witch continues...

Chapter Four ~ part two ~

 Chapter Four

~ part two ~

“I lost the light, Em,” Ann said.

“Lost the light?”

“I don’t know if I can anymore,” Ann said.

Em shot Ann a glance. Ann was smart and sly. Em wasn’t sure if Ann was trying to manipulate her. Catching Em’s look, Ann gave Em a sad shrug.

“I’m stuck here, Em,” Ann said.

Em snorted.

“Why did you make that sound?” Ann asked.

“I’m stuck here, too,” Em said.

Ann laughed. Em kept walking. Knowing Ann would stay in the park, Em stopped at the Freedom Trail near Beacon Street.

“Your hanging day is next week, right?” Em asked.

“June 19^th,” Ann said.

“Why don’t I see if we can’t help you?” Em asked. “We’ll have a little celebration and see if we can’t send you on your way.”

“Would everyone come?” Ann asked.

“By everyone, you mean George and John?” Em asked.

“Sam’s my favorite,” Ann smiled.

“Yes,” Em said. “I can promise George, and I’ll call John and Sam. I’m sure some of the others will want to come.”

“That would be nice,” Ann said.

“We’ll see if we can’t help you transition,” Em said. “What if you change your mind?”

“I won’t,” Ann said. “I’ve wanted to ask you about it for a long time. I just never got around to it.”

Em smiled her goodbye and started walking.

“It’s time,” Ann said. “I need to do it before . . .”

Em spun in place.

“Before what?” Em asked.

Ann had disappeared. Em cursed herself for trying to help the hanged-for-witchcraft crowd. All it ever did was cause her grief. Em scowled and continued down Beacon Street to Joy Street. It was a little less than a mile from the Mystic Divine to the Vilna Shul. After last night, Em needed the walk to clear her head.

Everyone thought Em was in trouble. As soon as George said that he thought they were all in trouble, everything erupted. Of course, Sarah Wildes, Sam Wardwell, and Elizabeth Howe were loyal to Em. They agreed that if Em was in trouble, they were all in trouble. Giles banged the drum that Em got herself into this trouble and should get herself out of it. Luckily, no one ever listened to Giles.

Margaret Scott agreed with George. She felt like something was changing. She couldn’t define the “something” — she was just sure that it had changed.

“For whom?” Wilmot Redd had asked.

“For all of us,” Margaret had said.

Suffer a Witch continues...

Chapter Four ~ part one ~

 Chapter Four

~ part one ~

Em stepped out onto Boylston Street. Turning, she pulled closed the door to the backstairs, which went to the living areas. She looked both ways down Boylston Street before setting off across the street. While she would survive being hit by a car, she didn’t have time for the hassle today. She stopped walking to let a man running with a baby stroller pass before entering the Boston Common. She’d gone only a few feet into the Common when she picked up a familiar ghost.

“Where you going, Em?” the woman asked.

Em put in the wireless earpiece to her phone so that no one would notice that she was talking to the air. Even though the Common was quiet this early in the morning, Em couldn’t be too careful.

“Good morning, Ann,” Em said to Ann Hibbins, who was hanged for witchcraft in the Common on 1656. The wife of a wealthy merchant, no one, including Ann, was sure why she was hanged for witchcraft. She’d lingered in the Common since 1656. She was one of the first souls Em had met when she moved to Boston in 1692.

“I saw all those witches at your house this morning,” Ann said.

Em inwardly groaned. Ann was feeling sorry for herself this morning.

“Why I was hanged and died?” Ann gave an angry snort. “But you witches! You get to live on and on and on . . .”

Em let her continue in her “on and ons” until Ann got tired of saying the words.

“You could move on,” Em said.

“I could move on!” Ann said. “You could have the decency to die!”

“Many of us would love to do just that!” Em chastised Ann. “It’s not like we planned this!”

“I know,” Ann sighed.

Em kept walking while Ann floated along beside her. They weren’t exactly friends. They just belonged to the same club of innocent women who were hanged for witchcraft. Ann had the dubious honor of having been widowed by one of the magistrates who condemned witches. Em glanced at Ann.

“Why don’t you move on?” Em asked.

“I lost the light, Em,” Ann said. 

Suffer a Witch continues...