The Sacrifice (5 page)

Abigail drew in her breath. Young
girls
were being tormented by the devil?

“If it is so fearful then,” Aunt Elizabeth said, “what makes you certain that it is not in fact the devil that takes them?”

Grandpappy shook his head. “I do not believe in witchcraft, Elizabeth. I think the girls are doing nothing more than having a bit of sport.”

“Sport that is causing chaos,” Uncle Daniel said
angrily. “If the girls are truly lying, they should be punished.”

Were the girls lying?
Abigail wondered. It seemed an awful and ugly thing to do. But if the devil was not in Salem Village, and the girls were only playing a game, Abigail knew quite well the punishment they would receive. She touched her own legs as a reminder. Racing for pleasure was a small offense. Lying was a much greater one.

Or was it the devil himself who was making them lie? On the stairs, Abigail shuddered. She knew herself to be brave, but how did one go about fighting off the devil?

“Father,” Mama said, “if the girls are lying, why does no one stop them?”

Grandpappy sighed. “It is as if the town has gone mad out there. I am at a loss to explain it, daughter. But the people of Salem Village believe the girls.”

“Can no one put an end to this madness, then?” Mama asked.

“Nay,” Grandpappy said. “It seems not. Already they have convicted three people of witchcraft: a slave woman named Tituba, an old beggar woman named Sarah Good, and an ungodly woman, Sarah
Osborne. All of them are oddities, daughter. Do you understand my concern now?”

“But surely this will not come to Andover, sir,” Uncle Daniel said. “We are a God-fearing, sensible lot here.”

“I hope you are right, Daniel, but I fear it may,” Grandpappy said. “I kept my own thoughts at the meeting of ministers this time, but it could become necessary that I speak out against the girls should this madness spread.”

A log fell into the fire, throwing up sparks.

“If it does,” Grandpappy continued, “Francis’s condition could be thought to have the work of the devil about it.”

The door opened, and Paul came inside. He stared at the four of them, huddled around the fire.

“The cows are in,” he said roughly

“I am most grateful, Paul,” Mama said. “Your father will be also when he is himself again.”

Paul gave a short bark of a laugh.

“Mind your tongue,” Grandpappy said sharply, “or you’ll be seeing the strap of my belt. Off to bed with you.”

Paul made his way toward the stairs.

Abigail stood, suddenly aware that she was to be discovered. She turned to flee, but not before Mama looked up and saw her. Their eyes met, and Abigail saw that Mama, too, was frightened.

Papa woke Abigail and Dorothy
at first light the next morning. Abigail looked into his eyes and saw that they were clear. His fit had passed. Yet his face showed signs of worry.

“Your mother is with fever,” Papa said, his voice low and urgent. “I have sat with her for a goodly portion of this early morning, but I fear she worsens.”

Papa’s face flushed. Abigail knew he realized that it was his fault their mother was sick. She tried to feel some sympathy, but instead felt only frustration with him. Mama was ill, and being out with Papa in the wet night had probably brought that sickness on.

“Dorothy,” Papa said, “begin preparing this morning’s breakfast. Sarah should be here soon to help you. Let Franny sleep until Edward wakens and
then have her watch over him, Abigail, I would have you be with your mother while I am away. I must tend to the livestock, but I won’t be gone long.”

“Aye, Papa,” Dorothy said. “I’ll be down shortly. Leave us to dress.”

Papa nodded. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. Then he turned and left.

Abigail climbed from the bed. Quietly, so as not to wake Franny, she slipped on her homespun dress and tied an apron over it. Dorothy, too, dressed hurriedly. She bundled her long hair into her cap and strode from the room.

Abigail finished washing her face and then walked toward her parents’ bedroom. Inside, she could hear the low murmur of voices. She went to the door.

Papa was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head bowed. Mama, flushed with fever, was holding his hand.

“Now, Francis,” she said softly, “please do not blame yourself for my condition. It might have been that I would have sickened anyway. I had not felt right the last few days.”

Papa drew Mama’s hand to his lips. Abigail saw him press a kiss into her palm.

“I am not worthy of you, Hannah,” he whispered.

“Hush, Francis,” Mama said. “Do not say such things.”

Then she looked up and saw Abby standing in the doorway.

“Go, Francis,” she said. “Abigail is here. Go on out and take Paul. I will be well watched over, and I shall be myself again before the morrow.”

Papa rose, his eyes not leaving Mama’s. He bent and quickly kissed her on the forehead. He walked toward Abigail. “Will you call me, Abby, should she worsen?” he asked.

Abigail nodded, even as she felt her anger rise. If Mama worsened,
he
was the cause! But could he have helped it? Abby had to stop these angry feelings. She knew they were wrong. He was her father, and she should respect him.

Papa patted Abby’s head and left the room.

Mama smiled weakly at her. “Come, Abby,” she said. “Sit by me. There is much weaving and spinning we must attend to today, and Dorothy has to be sure to put bread in early this morning.”

“Mama, please do not concern yourself with
household duties,” Abigail said, pulling up a chair beside her mother. “Dorothy and I can handle things.”

Mama smiled again. “I know you can, Bear.”

Her eyes closed. “And being quite aware of that fact, I will rest awhile. I am weary, Bear, very weary.”

Mama was soon sleeping, but the sleep was not restful. She tossed and turned, moaning slightly. Sarah brought breakfast, leaving it on the bedside table. She did not say a word to Abigail, but Abby was too preoccupied with her mother to be concerned about that today.

Dorothy came upstairs midmorning. She pushed aside the bed curtains and reached over to touch Mama’s forehead. Her face fell.

“She is burning with fever,” Dorothy said. “Would that I could go and fetch Doctor Cushman. But Franny and Edward need looking after, the fire and the bread need tending, and Mama needs you beside her.”

“Why can’t you send Sarah for the doctor?” Abigail asked.

“Sarah is leaving us. She has made it plain that she doesn’t wish to be in a household where the master is taken with fits and the children with indecent acts.”

Abigail stared at Dorothy. “Can Sarah truly believe this is an evil household?” she asked. “Mama has been so kind to her. We all have.”

“Aye,” Dorothy said scornfully, “but I believe she tends to forget our kindnesses.”

Mama sat up suddenly, her eyes unfocused.

“Mama?” Dorothy asked.

But Mama said nothing. She did not seem to notice Abigail and Dorothy in the room. She pulled the bedsheets up about her, shivering, and her eyes grew wide and frightened.

“Nay!” Mama screamed out. “Nay, I will not come!”

Abigail jumped at the suddenness of the outburst. She and Dorothy stared in horror at Mama, whose eyes were rolling about. Her head swayed back and forth.

“It must be the fever,” Abby whispered, trying to convince herself.

“Run, quickly,” Dorothy whispered back. “Run for Papa, Abigail. Tell him Mama worsens.”

Abigail gathered up her skirts. She ran toward the door and into the hallway, where she saw Sarah. From the way she stared at her, Abigail knew she had
heard Mama. Sarah turned and fled down the stairs with Abigail close on her heels.

“Sarah!” Abby called.

But Sarah did not turn around.

“Watch after Edward,” Abigail yelled to Franny. “I’m going for Papa.”

She ran after Sarah, out into the warm May air. Sarah looked back at Abigail, her eyes wide with fright. Abby wished she could follow her, calm her fears, and talk her into staying, for they needed her now more than ever, but she knew she must fetch Papa first. So Abigail turned and ran, her skirts up, toward Papa’s fields at the edge of town. This time, there was no pleasure in the running.

Later that day, Abigail sat
doing her mending by the fire. Yet she couldn’t concentrate, and she pricked her finger with the needle several times. Crying out in frustration, she finally gave up and threw the mending into the basket. How she hated sewing!

Franny came and put her head in Abby’s lap. “Will Mama be all right?” Franny asked.

Abigail did not answer. She didn’t know what to say.

Dorothy picked up Edward, who began to cry. He squirmed around in her arms, trying desperately to escape.

“Hush,” Dorothy scolded. Yet Abigail saw her draw Edward near and kiss his head.

Finally, there were footsteps on the stairs. Abigail rose from her place by the fire as Papa and Doctor Cushman descended.

“I cannot tell you, Francis,” the doctor said. “Only the Lord knows for sure if she will come out of this. I fear the child may be having a bad time of it too.”

Child?
Abigail thought.
What child?
And then she knew. Mama was pregnant again. It was probably why she had not been feeling right these past few days. Abby was concerned now not just for Mama but for her new brother or sister, as well. She knew that sometimes if a mother was taken with fever while pregnant, the child would not be right when born.

The doctor went to the door and picked up his hat and cloak. “I will keep you in my prayers, Francis,” he said, “but there is naught that I can do for her now.” Then he left.

Papa turned to his children. His face was drawn, his forehead creased with worry.

“She will be better,” he whispered softly, as if to convince himself that it was true.

No one said a word. Even Franny seemed to know that she shouldn’t ask questions now.

“Come, Papa,” Dorothy said quietly. “Supper is ready. Abigail, go and call for Paul. Franny, wash your hands.”

Abigail watched Dorothy carry Edward toward the table. Normally, she would have been angry at Dorothy for giving them all orders, but today she was glad for it. In commanding them all to keep busy, Dorothy had given them something to think about other than Mama.

The weeks passed slowly. Abigail and Dorothy did the chores around the house, cooking and cleaning and washing and mending. Because Aunt Elizabeth had no children of her own to tend to, she was able to find time between her own household chores to come by and lend a hand as well. Yet every night, Abigail fell wearily into bed beside Dorothy, sleeping heavily until light poured in the leaded windows the next day. Never had she been so aware of the many difficult chores Sarah had handled.

Grandpappy came daily for dinner, his eyes worried, his prayers at the supper table long. Papa went about his work quietly, but Abigail often saw him outside, his eyes turned toward their bedroom
window. He brought Mama flowers daily, filling their bedroom with all her favorite kinds. One day he even rode all the way to Salem Town to bring Mama unusual teas and a fancy plate from England, items that must have cost him much.

Abigail realized he was torn up inside, and yet she could not forgive him his fits. She knew he could not stop them from coming, and he was paying the price for them now. But still she wished he could try to be stronger and battle the dark thoughts that consumed him at times.

At last, Mama began to recover, but her progress was slow. Abigail thanked the Lord every morning and every evening as she saw Mama’s strength returning, and she made a promise to the Lord never to race again. It seemed a small price to pay for Mama’s restored health.

Summer came to Andover.
Mud gave way to green fields, and farmers were busy from sunup to sundown. Edward began to walk, delighting everyone with his joy at what he could now do.

Mama continued to recover slowly, rising late and walking a little more each day. Papa walked with her in the evenings. They would stroll to the top of the hill and watch the sunset, Mama leaning on Papas arm. Abigail was grateful for Papas caring. During these weeks, Mamas belly began to grow bigger, and Abigail wondered if the child would recover from the fever too, or if damage had been done by the illness.

One day, Mama stopped her flax spinning and stood, stretching slightly.

“Abby,” she said. “Gather up Edward and come with me. I feel the need for a turn out of doors.”

“Shall I call Dorothy and Franny, too?” Abigail asked.

Mama shook her head. “They are busy gathering berries. I can manage with just you.”

Abigail was delighted. It was a rare time these days when she was alone with Mama, or at least alone with Mama and Edward. They put on their cloaks and opened the door. Sunshine poured in and warmed Abigail’s face.

“’Tis a beautiful day,” Mama said. “Let us walk a bit.”

Abigail lifted Edward onto her hip and put a steadying hand on Mamas arm.

“Thank you, Bear,” Mama said.

Slowly they began walking up the hill, away from the village. When they reached the top, the world seemed to lie at their feet. The meadows in front of them shone in the sunshine, and Abigail listened with a joyful heart to the sounds of the birds. She felt a deep longing to lift her skirts and run, but then, she remembered her promise.

Mama breathed deeply. “’Tis a lovely smell, that
smell of earth,” she said. “Come, Abby. Let us spread our cloaks upon the ground and sit for a bit. I believe we can spare a minute in this sunshine if we don’t tarry too long.”

Abby quickly loosened her cloak and spread it on the ground. Mama lowered herself slowly, and Abigail placed Edward beside her. Edward did not stay still long. He stood on his wobbly legs and was soon off exploring the tall grasses in front of them, falling often on his behind, making Mama and Abby laugh.

Abigail sat down and laid her head in Mamas lap. Mama stroked her hair, singing softly. Abigail closed her eyes, letting the sunshine soak into her body. It was peaceful, but she longed to jump up and take off, like a bird all on its own, winging her way through the summer air.