25

HOPE

SEPTEMBER 11, 1692

SALEM VILLAGE

The creaking of a door brought me to awareness as I opened my eyes on a new day. Rain slashed against the small window. Our bedroom was unusually cold for September, causing me to shiver under the thin blanket.

"Grace," I called to my sister, but she didn't hear me or heed me as she left the room.

I quickly got out of bed and scrambled to get dressed, my hands and feet feeling like icicles.

Yesterday I had begged Grace to go along with my plan, but she had refused. If we didn't act quickly, Susannah would send us both to the gaol.

I finished dressing and went to find my sister. She was laying a fire in the kitchen hearth as the wind and the rain rattled the windowpanes.

"Have you given my suggestion any thought?" I asked, rubbing my hands together for warmth.

She startled and turned at my arrival. Her countenance was heavy, and I instantly knew something was wrong—more than what was happening in Salem Village.

"What is it?" I walked across the kitchen and stood near her. "Has something happened in 1912?"

The fire was just starting to come to life as she faced me. I knew my sister almost better than I knew myself. Just by looking into her eyes and seeing how she held her mouth, I knew she was carrying something troubling in her mind.

My heart fell as I realized what it was.

"You're not staying here with me, are you?" I asked her.

"What?" She frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Something's wrong—something you don't want to tell me." I took her hand as panic settled into my heart. I tried not to sound desperate, but I couldn't live here without Grace. "The only thing that would make you look so guilty is that you decided not to stay here."

"No." She shook her head. "That's not it."

My shoulders sagged with relief. "Then what's wrong?"

"I—"

She paused as the door to the lean-to opened and Leah entered the kitchen. Leah looked at both of us but did not say a word as she began her morning chores.

"Start with laying the fire in the front rooms," I told her, my voice harsher than I intended. I needed more time with my sister.

Leah nodded and left the kitchen.

I turned back to Grace. "Please tell me what's wrong."

She shook her head as she looked at me with something akin to pity.

I pulled back, surprised. Grace had never pitied me—even after I died in 1912.

There was movement on the stairs, and we both turned to find Susannah entering the kitchen. She looked tired and cross six months into her pregnancy and was starting to show signs of discomfort and impatience—though that shouldn't surprise me.

She stared at us as she made a face. "Haven't you started breakfast? I'm starving."

"I'm starting now," Grace said as she turned back to the hearth.

Susannah's gaze held mine, but I wouldn't shy away—no matter what she planned to do to me.

"Hurry," she said as she walked through the kitchen and entered the dining room.

As soon as she was through the door, I turned back to Grace.

"You have to accuse me," I said. "We can't wait another moment. As soon as she's fed and there's an audience in the dining room, she'll start one of her afflictions and call us both out. We'll be in the gaol within hours."

"I can't." Grace shook her head.

I grasped her shoulder and turned her to look at me, desperate. Angry. "You would rather have both of us in gaol? Please, Grace."

She shook her head, tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry."

Something about the way she said it made me wonder what she was sorry about. That she wouldn't accuse me—or something else?

Leah reentered the kitchen, and I couldn't find another moment to talk to Grace alone. Every time I met her gaze, I pleaded with my eyes, but she looked away.

Panic made me tremble as the dining room began to fill with customers and Grace finished breakfast. I wasn't sure how she appeared so calm as she fried bacon and made bread pudding from yesterday's penny loafs.

"Grace," I said in a frantic whisper as she finished filling several plates that I would take to the dining room. "Please." I glanced at Leah, who was leaving the kitchen. "Tell me what is wrong."

Grace waited until Leah was out of the room. "Now isn't the time. We need to get the meal served."

"I must know. What is bothering you—besides Susannah? I know there is something."

She finally let out a breath. "It's about Luc."

"Luc? Did something happen to him?" I grabbed her arms. "Did he die?"

She shook her head.

"Tell me—I don't care if this isn't the time. I need to know."

"I-I'm in love with him."

My breath caught as I stared at her, confused, certain I hadn't heard correctly. "What?"

"I love him," she said with a little sob. "I didn't mean for it to happen, Hope. It just did."

I took a step back from her, hurt and betrayal tearing at my heart. How had I not known this was coming? They had spent months together. I asked the question I had suspected in July. "Does he love you?"

She swallowed and nodded slowly.

"He—he told you?"

"Yes."

I stared at her, seeing the telltale signs of guilt, and whispered, "Did you kiss him?"

She looked down at her hands and nodded.

I turned away from her. This was the final crushing blow to the disappointments I had endured the past few months. First, to lose 1912 and the man I loved—and then to have him fall in love with my twin sister?

"Hope," she said as she reached for me.

I pulled out of her grasp, not wanting to talk to her or look at her or even acknowledge what she had said. Luc wasn't supposed to love her. Nothing had gone as I planned.

Picking up a few plates, I walked blindly into the dining room, holding back the torrent of emotions wreaking havoc in my heart. The storm was still blowing against the ordinary, and more people than usual had come to hear the latest gossip and spend the dreary hours with others.

As I aimlessly set the plates in front of customers, the front door opened, and Isaac entered.

I met his gaze and could see his concern immediately. He knew me better than I had realized.

The reality of Grace's confession brought tears to my eyes even as I acknowledged that my heart had started to soften toward another man—one who was now approaching me. It didn't change the fact that my sister knowingly fell in love with a man I loved—in a devastating time when she knew it would only add to my pain.

Yet wasn't that what I was doing? Falling for a man Grace loved?

My heart constricted with guilt and shame. Did she still love Isaac?

"Is all well?" he asked, searching my face.

I shook my head, but there was no way I could tell him.

Grace entered the dining room, and our gazes collided. She looked miserable—and though I wanted to despise her for capturing Luc's heart, I couldn't. The truth was, I had never been good for him. I had pushed him to be someone he wasn't. Grace probably drew out the best in him. She did that for everyone, except perhaps me, who was selfish and spiteful when I should have been happy for her.

And this shouldn't have come as a complete surprise. I saw the way Luc looked at my sister on the train and at the air meet. He'd probably been in love with her a lot longer than she with him. Could I blame her? Could I blame him?

"Did something happen between you and Grace?" Isaac asked.

Seeing the concern in his gaze, I nodded, but before I could say more, a commotion in the corner of the room drew our attention.

Susannah, who was sitting at a table with Mercy, started to spasm like she had so many times before.

Father was on the other side of the room, but he dropped the cup of cider he was filling and raced toward her. He put his arms around Susannah from behind, holding her steady as her body trembled.

"They afflict me!" Susannah cried in a wretched voice as she looked up into his worried face.

I turned to Grace. This was the moment—the one I had warned her about.

She was crying, and her eyes filled with an intense sadness that broke my heart.

I mouthed the word, "Please."

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she dropped her chin, and then she began to cry out—louder than Susannah—in a voice that was wracked with such anguish, I knew she was not faking her emotion.

"She afflicts me!" Grace cried. "She pinches me and bites me and torments me."

Everyone turned their stunned gazes to Grace. Even Susannah stopped spasming and stared at Grace, her mouth slipping open.

The tears cascaded down Grace's cheeks as she began convulsing, twisting her body in painful contortions. Her heart was breaking—and it wasn't just about this moment and sending me to the gaol. I knew my sister. She would not have fallen in love with Luc to spite me. She had probably fought it, forsaking her own feelings, her own happiness, for mine.

As she cried out in pain, I knew she was sacrificing for me yet again.

Tears gathered in my eyes as I watched her, knowing this went against her nature—but she was doing it for me, because I had asked her. Begged her.

And she loved me.

"What are you crying about, daughter?" Father asked as he left Susannah's side and put his hand on Grace's shoulder.

Grace opened her eyes and grabbed his doublet, sobbing so hard she couldn't speak.

Father looked truly concerned—as did all the others who watched her. This was not an act. Grace was being afflicted by guilt and fear. Terror flashed in everyone's eyes, and more than one person looked behind them to see what—or who—might be causing Grace such anguish.

Isaac stood close beside me, stiff and uncertain.

I wept silently as I watched her, knowing she was in anguish. Our souls were two halves of one whole, and I could feel the pain she endured. I wanted to call out to her to stop—but I knew it would mean she would end up in the gaol with me. And I wouldn't let her. This might hurt for a time, but in the end, she would be free from chains.

"She pinches me and—and chokes me," Grace finally said as she fought for air, clawing at her throat.

"Who pinches and chokes you?" Father asked, his voice severe.

There was silence as everyone waited. I held my breath.

And then my sister lifted her shaking hand, sobbing—and pointed at me.

It didn't take long for Father to force me upstairs and into the room where the others had been held for questioning. He didn't even ask me if I was guilty of the charges. The look in his eyes told me he believed it was true—perhaps had suspected it all along.

He'd said I was just like my mother, Tacy, after all.

An hour later, I sat alone in the cold room, looking out the window at the storm-tossed front yard. Across the way, guards were changing shifts at the watchtower. Always watching for the enemy's arrival. What they didn't realize was that the worst threat to Salem Village had come in the form of fear—a timeless adversary that stole through the recesses of the mind and heart. There was no guard, no watchtower, and no magistrate who could protect the people from the greatest enemy of their soul.

As soon as the magistrates could be summoned, my questioning would begin. Tonight, as I had planned, I would probably be in the Salem gaol.

A shiver ran through me as I closed my eyes. My first inclination was to ask God to protect me, to give me the right words, to open the eyes of the court to see the foolishness of their ways.

But then I remembered what Isaac had told me. God knew what I needed more than I did. So I simply asked if He would sit with me, to be my Comfort, my Peace, my Rock amidst the storm. A gentle warmth filled my heart as I envisioned sitting in the presence of God, not worrying about what would happen, but trusting Him.

A knock came at the door, and I opened my eyes, surprised that the magistrates had come so soon. But when the door opened, it was Isaac who entered.

I stood, my heart pounding at his arrival. He took two giant steps across the room and engulfed me in his embrace. I pressed my cheek against his chest, tears coming to my eyes as I wrapped my arms around him. He was warmth and strength and all that was good in Salem Village.

"How could Grace do this to you?" His voice was choked, desperate.

"I told her to."

"What?" He pulled back, his blue eyes filled with confusion.

I explained what I had heard Susannah planning and how I had begged Grace to accuse me. "'Tis the only way to keep her out of the gaol."

He put his hands on either side of my face and shook his head. "My beautiful, impetuous girl. What have you done?"

"I couldn't see her suffer."

He ran his thumbs over my cheeks, wiping away my tears. "I've never loved you more than I do right now, Hope Eaton."

I inhaled as he lowered his lips to mine, kissing me with an intensity that left me dazed. My hands went to his waist, and I grasped his coat, trying to pull him closer, wanting to be fully enveloped by this courageous, loving man.

He deepened the kiss at my prompting but quickly pulled back, drawing a ragged breath. "I'm sorry."

I shook my head, holding on to him. "Don't be."

"I can't stay long," he said. "The magistrates will be here soon."

"I know." I felt a calmness that defied understanding. "I'll be fine. God hath given me peace."

He shook his head in wonder as he ran a thumb over my swollen lip, tender from his kisses. "I will do whatever I can to free you. I promise."

"I plan to confess."

"Confess to what?"

"To witchcraft. 'Tis part of my plan."

He frowned. "What are you saying?"

"Don't you see? 'Tis the only way to be safe from the gallows. Everyone who confesses is allowed to stay in the gaol and hath not been called before the grand jury."

"For now—but what about later?" He was adamant. "'Tis not worth lying about something so evil, Hope."

"But they won't believe the truth, so I must tell them what their itching ears want to hear. They are the ones in the wrong, not me."

"How will you stand before God if you do this thing?"

"He will understand. He knows I am innocent and they are guilty."

There was movement on the road in front of the ordinary.

"The magistrates have arrived," I said.

Uncertainty clung to Isaac as he pressed his lips to my forehead. "I long to see you free, but I also long for you to have a clean conscience before the Lord. Do what you feel is best, and I will trust that it is the right decision."

"Thank you," I said, though doubt plagued me. Was this the right way to go?

He left the room, and a few minutes later, Father appeared. Had he allowed Isaac to see me? It didn't seem like something he would do.

"Come," Father said. "The magistrates are ready to question you."

I took a deep breath and followed him out of the room and down the stairs.

The magistrates sat at a table in the dining room, their backs to the outside wall. Susannah, Mercy, Mary Walcott, Elizabeth Hubbard, and Grace were seated to their right. All but Grace looked at me when I entered, and on cue, they began to spasm and convulse.

Leah sat near Susannah. She stared at me as the others writhed in pain. Her gaze told me that she did not need to act, because she had real evidence the magistrates would want to hear.

The room was overflowing with onlookers who sat at the tables or stood against the walls. The wind and rain blew outside, swirling around the ordinary like a wild beast. Magistrates John Hathorne and Jonathan Corwin sat behind the table, watching me, while Reverend Parris sat ready with a piece of paper and a quill.

Isaac stood in the corner behind the magistrates, taller than most. I focused on him as the afflicted women made such a ruckus the magistrates had to ask them to quiet themselves.

Father left me standing in front of the magistrates while he took a seat next to Susannah.

Grace did not look at me.

Magistrate Hathorne stared at me with cold, calculating eyes. "There have been charges set against you, Hope Eaton. What say yourself?"

I took a deep breath, ready to go along with the ruse. I had been an actress—I could play the part.

"What are the charges?" I asked.

The magistrate looked toward Leah while Susannah nudged her to stand. My heart beat hard.

"Leah Smythe," Magistrate Hathorne said, "repeat what you have heard and reported to your mistress."

I had never heard Leah speak—would she now? To condemn me?

"I have heard many troubling things in the lean-to at the back of the ordinary," Leah began, her voice quiet and timid.

I looked at Grace, and she met my gaze, just as surprised as me. Would Leah condemn us both?

"Tell us what you have heard," John Hathorne said again.

Leah trembled as she clasped her hands. Her face was pale under her white coif, but she continued. "She had secret meetings with the accused witch, Ann Pudeator, at all hours of the night. Hope and Goody Pudeator left to attend gatherings in Reverend Parris's field with all the other witches."

I opened my mouth to protest but remembered that I was going to agree to all their accusations.

"She also met the other accused witch, Rachel Howlett, visiting her home in Salem Towne and calling her to the ordinary to afflict my mistress."

"Is that all?" Magistrate Hawthorn asked.

Leah shook her head and swallowed. "I also heard her speak of flying—many times."

All eyes turned to me. Flying was a serious accusation.

"Do you deny these claims?" the magistrate asked me.

I shook my head honestly—at least about the flying. "I do not."

Isaac briefly closed his eyes as the afflicted girls stared at me in surprise.

"Do you deny the other accusations?" he asked. "That you afflict your sister, Grace Eaton, and that you have met with a coven of witches in Reverend Parris's field?"

I opened my mouth to say I did not deny the charges, but the look on Isaac's face—pain and disappointment—made me hesitate.

And when I hesitated, the afflicted girls came to life.

"There are familiars all around her!" Mercy cried. "They swarm her, doing her bidding for the devil's work." She started to swat at the air near her, as if fending off the little beasts. Others in the room became uncomfortable as they looked for the invisible demonic creatures.

I stared at the magistrates, refusing to acknowledge Mercy.

"Her specter bites me!" Susannah called out, showing a fresh bite mark on her wrist.

"And she sticks me with pins," cried Elizabeth Hubbard, showing pins stuck into the pads of her fingers.

The magistrates looked disturbed as they spoke amongst themselves. The claims were so preposterous. Could they not see that?

I couldn't help it. I shook my head, letting out a frustrated breath.

All the afflicted—except Grace—also began to shake their heads, but with greater force. Even Leah shook her head, her voice rising with the others.

I crossed my arms—and they crossed their arms.

Mercy cried out. "Make her stop! I cannot unclench my arms. She holds us prisoner and doth not want us to speak."

I slowly lowered my arms, and they finally lowered theirs.

"What do you say for yourself?" Magistrate Hathorne asked me. "Do you not see what you do to these women?"

My gaze returned to Isaac. He looked so sad that as I opened my mouth to confess that I was bewitching these women, the words stuck in my throat.

How could I stand before all these people—and God—and say that I was controlling their behaviors? That I had sold my soul to the devil and was now doing his bidding?

I could not.

I glanced at Grace, panic starting to creep into my heart. Her face was pale as she clutched her hands together and didn't meet my gaze.

I looked at Isaac, remembering his embrace and his words of love and encouragement. Could I speak such vile things in his presence?

"Well?" Magistrate Hathorne asked. "What say you to these claims, Hope Eaton?"

"She cannot speak, because the devil holds her tongue!" Susannah said. "I see him there, beside her. He controls her like she controls us."

Revulsion turned my stomach, and I shook my head.

They shook their heads.

Tears of indignation rose inside me, and I swallowed as I faced the magistrates. "I say I am innocent. They lie for attention and wish to see me hang. I heard Susannah and Mercy planning it last night."

The racket the afflicted girls caused became so great, Susannah fell to the ground, her body twitching with spasms that looked as if they would break her spine.

Father rushed to her side as he glared at me. "You lie!" he said as he pointed at me. "You have hated her from the moment she came here, and you signed a deal with the devil to see her and the unborn babe dead."

"No." Tears fell down my cheeks, but my defense was lost in the chaos.

"Have her taken to the Salem gaol to await trial," Magistrate Hathorne said. "We have seen and heard enough. We are done here."

Someone grabbed my arm from behind as my breath caught. Grace stood, horror on her face as they started to pull me out. I looked at Isaac, and he was on his way across the room, but someone held him back.

The reality of the situation hit me like a blow to the face.

I would hang.