Chapter 4

Up before dawn, as was her custom, Mary bathed using the washbowl and then dressed. By the time she finished breakfast, a light shone in the eastern sky.

It was too early to shop. None of the vendors would yet be open, although they and those farmers not affected by the smallpox would put out vegetables and meats for purchase. She went in the hope they would sell early, which would allow her to open her business on time.

Halfway there she heard a shout, turned, and saw Rebecca hurrying to catch up. She stopped to wait for her.

“You have the same thought?” Rebecca asked.

“I hope to make purchases early, that I might open my shop on time.”

“The day promises to be hot again. I want to finish this and be home before the worst it arrives. It is already building, and the sun has barely risen.”

They walked together to an open area at the edge of town, where the produce was being put up for display and sale. The vegetables and meat available were fresh, picked or butchered the day before.

“They have little to choose from,” Rebecca said, surveying the goods.

“Not as I expected,” said Mary. “The sickness has hurt so many, making them unable to tend their crops.”

“And the heat. Nor have we had much rain.”

Mary walked through the area, looking at the vegetables. She chose some and bought enough for two days. She paid in coin instead of trying to barter with items she brought with her.

When they finished, she and Rebecca made the short trek back to Mary’s home and shop. On the way, they chatted about the weather, and about one especially handsome man they saw. When learning he was a newlywed, they had stopped hovering near him and continued their shopping.

“Would you care for a cup of tea?” Mary asked.

“I would,” Rebecca said.

They went to the kitchen, and Mary put on a pot of tea.

“You could set the water in the sun and it would boil by the noon hour,” Rebecca said.

“If not boil, I think it would warm it enough,” Mary replied.

When the tea was ready, she poured two cups, handed one to Rebecca, and took a seat at the table. It felt strange having a visitor. There had been none since a group of women visited after the authorities set her free of the sorcery charge.

Rebecca sipped from her cup, and then set it on the table.

“I am negligent in coming to see you.”

“As busy as I have been, there has been little time. You know this,” Mary said. “It seems each day brings more suffering. My grandmother and mother never experienced such.”

“I remember them. There was talk in Salem Village.”

“They healed, served as midwives, and helped many,” Mary said. “Like me.”

“When I had the cough, your grandmother helped me,” Rebecca said. “I was barely more than a babe in arms.”

“She helped various people yet, as you say, there was the suspicion of her being a witch.”

“A healing witch,” Rebecca replied.

“Neither she nor my mother and father ever spoke the word.”

Rebecca nodded. “Saying it in front of young children is dangerous.”

“One of my brothers or sisters speaking it in the wrong place might mean her being arrested,” Mary agreed.

“Yet you insisted on opening a shop, flaunting it,” Rebecca said. There was no anger in her voice. Her tone remained matter-of-fact. “They have examined you once. I think next time will be worse.”

“We have talked of it from the day we arrived in Danielsford. You believe a next time will happen?”

“As surely as I sit here,” Rebecca said. “I have said it to you until I run out of breath, a wise woman would conduct her business another way.”

Mary sipped the last of her tea. She looked away and scowled. Rebecca and all the others who warned her were right. Thomas Walcott accused her of sorcery and Witchcraft, because in Puritan New England spectral evidence was the easiest charge with which to convict someone. All it took was an accusation, sometimes bolstered by several other witnesses, after which the accused had to confess guilt or prove their innocence. It was a problem for those being accused because, although there was no need to prove spectral evidence, disproving it was well-nigh impossible.

“I know you to be right,” she said.

“Then why do you continue in this manner?”

Before Mary could reply, they heard a sound. A moment later, Anne James appeared.

“Mary,” she said. “An illness troubles my good husband.”

“What is his complaint?” Mary asked.

Anne described the affliction. Mary listened, nodding. She glanced at Rebecca.

“I fear I will have to see him.”

“Is it necessary?” Anne asked. She looked embarrassed when she continued. “He would not want others to know he has treated with you.”

“There is no other way,” Mary said. “His condition could result from diverse things. I must resolve the problem before prescribing a cure.”

Anne looked at Rebecca. “Before I can agree to you coming, I must speak with him. He would be most angry if you appeared without his affirmation.”

“I understand. Talk to him. We will be here.”

Anne hurried away.

“It does not offend you, being treated such?” Rebecca asked.

“It has happened many times,” Mary said. “I must help them, no matter their feeling toward me.”

“Have you any more tea?” Rebecca asked. “So seldom do I get to taste it, I should take advantage while I can.”

Mary checked to be sure it was still hot and poured a fresh cup. Tea was rare, but not so rare as finding someone to talk with during the long day.

“Do you think he will let you visit?” Rebecca asked.

“If his affliction is grievous enough,” Mary replied.

“What think you?”

Mary hesitated, running the possibilities through her mind. There were many things. Some were curable while others were beyond her ability and the ability of the modern medicine of the day, even if a doctor was available.

“So, you can only guess,” Rebecca said.

“After I examine him, I will have a much better idea. I am most often correct.”

“If he allows the examination,” Rebecca added.

“Should he not, I cannot help.”

“I did not before realize it involved so much.”

“Coming and asking for an herb, elixir, or poultice does not suffice. I must see or talk with them. After, I am better able to predict the affliction. Sometimes, I must do more,” Mary said.

“As it should be, I expect,” Rebecca said.

“As it must be.”

Rebecca stood. “It has been a most enjoyable visit, but I should go before my purchases wilt in the heat.”

“It has been a joy for me,” Mary said. “Seldom do I have anyone to talk with since you found your home.”

“We must do this again. I, too, now spend most of my time alone.”

When Rebecca left, Mary turned to look at her kitchen. It felt vast and empty. She took the cups and cleaned them, put them back on the shelf, and then sat at the table, wondering if Anne would return.

After a minute, she stood and walked to the door and outside. The Common was empty, except for a few cattle and sheep. The heat was building and everyone was busy searching for a cool place to try to avoid the worst of the day, which was still to come.

She went to the shade of a tree in her backyard and sat. Anne would return, or she wouldn’t. If the woman did, Mary would either see or hear her, or Anne would find her.