The First Midnight Spell (6 page)

Everything was working perfectly. Any doubts she felt from time to time—any odd quiver of fear that went through her when Nat stared blindly in her direction, looking so little like his old self—Elizabeth brushed aside. This was her plan. It was unfolding more or less as she'd foreseen. The journey didn't matter as much as the destination.

 

In late July Nat came to the house nearly every night, until the evening when he refused to leave.

“Now, Nat, you know we have to get the children to sleep,” Aunt Ruth said, eyes darting nervously toward Elizabeth, who kept her face serene.

“I'll stay,” he repeated. “Elizabeth can sit here with me.”

The children all giggled, but Aunt Ruth went pale. “I'm sorry, but no. You can come back tomorrow.” She paused, obviously realizing she'd given him permission to do something she didn't want him to do.

Nat's expression clouded. The suggestibility within Elizabeth's spell made him want to obey Aunt Ruth, and yet his compulsion to remain near Elizabeth still won out. “I can't go,” he said; he looked so confused, almost lost. “I . . . can't.”

“Why don't I walk you out?” Elizabeth said sweetly, brushing his arm with her fingers. She knew that moment of contact would be enough to convince him to do what she said, anything she said, for the hope of touching her again. “Come along.”

She walked out into the warm night. Midsummer had thickened the air, stilled the breezes. Insects' chirps had found their rhythm, slow and pulsing, surrounding them like high grass. There wasn't much moonlight that evening; clouds hung low, silvering the night sky. Yet the glowing windows of her house and others nearby gave enough light for Elizabeth to see Nat by. He stared at her so intently that it took her breath away.

Finally they were alone. Finally he was ready. She could quit pretending. They could begin.

“You have to be more careful, Nat,” she whispered. “The others don't understand us. They'd keep us apart. We have to keep this a secret. Do you understand?”

“A secret.” His face lit up as he realized that she longed for him, too, and he repeated, “Us.”

In that moment, when he was smiling down at her in the new delight of love returned, he looked like himself again. Down deep, he was still her Nat. Elizabeth hadn't allowed herself to doubt that—but seeing the proof that she'd been right, that the spell hadn't fundamentally changed who Nat was on the inside, filled her with joy.

“Yes. Us. You and I.” Elizabeth turned her face up to his. Her entire body trembled with hope. She couldn't look away from Nat, from the lines of his mouth as he leaned down toward her and parted his lips.

When they kissed, she gasped.
It's really happening. He's really mine.
And the kiss felt so different from the way she'd thought a kiss would feel—warmer. Wetter, too. Nor had Elizabeth guessed that she wouldn't only feel it on her lips, but throughout her whole body, her skin and gut and breasts and bones all responding immediately to the nearness of him.

Nat's arms slid around her as he pulled Elizabeth against his body. The kiss deepened, and she felt as though her mind were spinning, as though they should never be any farther apart than this.

Inside she heard Aunt Ruth talking to her cousins, and that reminded her—
not yet. Not quite yet.

Elizabeth pulled back. Nat didn't so much let go as he froze, hands still outstretched, as if he didn't understand how she could have left his arms. She didn't understand, either, really, but she said, “Remember. We have to keep this secret.”

“When can I see you?”

“Tomorrow,” Elizabeth said, feeling hope's warmth like sunshine on her cheeks. “Find me tomorrow by the far west field.”

Nat nodded, but he still stood there, mutely refusing to leave.

This part was a bit annoying, honestly; at least it didn't have to last forever. “Run back home, Nat. Be sweet to your mother. Let her feel like everything's all right.”

“Yes.” He seemed relieved to know what to do. “Yes, I will. But—tomorrow? Do you promise?”

“With all my heart.”

Finally Nat walked away, walking backward so that he didn't have to take his eyes off Elizabeth. She watched him go for a while, then quickly wiped her mouth and fixed her apron so that she looked right when she went back inside.

Aunt Ruth had managed to get the children tucked in. Her face was creased with worry. “Did he trouble you?”

“Not really,” Elizabeth said, trying to strike the right balance. She should sound concerned, but not actually afraid. “But I was thinking—I ought to keep out of his way as much as possible, during the day.”

“You should indeed.”

That sounded like Aunt Ruth had her own plan for keeping Elizabeth hidden; Elizabeth knew she needed to speak up right away. “We're running low on some of our medicinal plants. Why don't I go gathering tomorrow? Out past the field on the far west of town. Nothing should take Nat over that way.”

After a moment, Aunt Ruth nodded. “That should do. I'll tell Widow Porter about it in the morning. She can steer him in some other direction. I'm worried about that boy.”

I'm not,
Elizabeth thought. For the first time in years—since she'd been old enough to know how she felt about Nat Porter—she wasn't afraid of losing him. For the first time she felt sure her dreams would come true.

 

Nat came to her in the far field so early in the day that the grass was still cool and damp with dew. Nobody else would come out this way, so Elizabeth didn't have to hide or wait. She simply stood there amid the tall waving grass, untying her cap so that her hair would flow free as she watched Nat walking toward her. His steps quickened until he was practically running to her, and she held out her arms for him.

Together they tumbled onto the soft ground, and Nat's mouth found hers, and Elizabeth surrendered to the tidal wave of feeling sweeping her away.

They lay like that for hours, kissing until her lips were swollen and sore, tangling their bodies together until their clothes seemed to be only an inconvenience. Elizabeth let Nat touch her everywhere he wanted, thrilling to the warmth of his hands, and knowing each moment only made him wilder to finally have her for his own.

If that happens, then he'll marry me,
she thought in a blissful daze, her head lolling back against Nat's forearm on the ground.
He'll know that if our families found out, they'd force us to marry. Even the First Laws couldn't prevent that!
Surely some laws of man were even greater than the rules of witchcraft.

Yet every moment Elizabeth thought Nat would finally abandon all restraint, he would suddenly pull back. “We can't,” he would pant against her shoulder. “I can't do that to you.”

Elizabeth would have liked to plead with him to do exactly that. Yet she knew to do so would mark her as a completely improper young woman—a slattern rather than a virtuous girl he would want to marry. Although Nat would always love her, of course, he would not always be so thoroughly in the grip of her spell. When he remembered these days in years to come, she wanted him to remember only how fiercely his desire for her had burned, instead of her behaving in a way he would never want for his wife.

So instead she meekly whispered, “We won't, Nat. I know you're a good man. You'll take care of me.”

Besides, this was wonder enough for today, maybe for a lifetime. Elizabeth had imagined how good it would feel to lie beneath Nat, to feel him move against her as he kissed her again and again. Yet her imagination had fallen so short of reality.

By midafternoon both their bellies were growling with hunger, sharp enough for Nat to release her for a while. She'd thought to pack some cheese and bread in a little checked cloth she'd tied with a bow. Nat ate like a starving man, and with a tiny twinge of guilt she wondered how long it had been since he'd sat down to regular meals and eaten as much as he should.

Not for much longer,
she thought as she stroked his hair.
Soon I'll cook all your meals, and we'll be happy together somewhere far away from Fortune's Sound.

They had spoken little that day, so it was startling when Nat said, “I don't understand myself any longer.”

“It's all right,” Elizabeth replied, smiling over at him. “We're in love. People can't help themselves when they're in love.”

He hardly seemed to have heard her. “One day—one day I was still praying every morning and night for Rebecca to get well. I knew that I intended to spend my life with her if God granted her the years for us to share.”

Just hearing Rebecca Hornby's name again soured Elizabeth's mood. What was it about that girl that allowed her to linger in Nat's mind, despite the spell? Inwardly Elizabeth resolved to cast a spell of forgetting on Nat as soon as she got the chance.

Nat continued, “Then the next day I realized I couldn't think about anything but you. I didn't want anyone but you.”

That was more like it. “Nat, you've always been the one for me. Always. I used to wish and pray you'd notice me.”

“I don't understand.” Nat's voice sounded broken. “Ma doesn't want me to be with you—and I don't know why, but she doesn't, and she's never been one to hold me back. If I marry you, it will hurt her, so badly. I never wanted to hurt Ma.”

“She'll see reason someday,” Elizabeth lied. They'd never see Widow Porter again, which was fine by her. “These things work out with time. They always do.”

“I hear you and everything makes sense. But inside—inside—” Nat made a gesture across his heart, as though he were trying to tear off something that had gotten in the way. “Everything's turned upside down, and I don't even know my own mind any longer.”

“Shhh. Nat, it's all right. Trust me. You trust me, don't you?”

He nodded at her, saying nothing, but his wide blue eyes told the whole story.

Elizabeth lay back on the ground again and smiled up at him invitingly. Sure enough, the confusion in his eyes faded, replaced by desire. The spell had him again, which meant Elizabeth did, too. When he kissed her, the sun beat down on them so brightly that even closing her eyes couldn't keep out the light.

 

She'd managed to pick enough weeds and herbs first thing that morning to keep Aunt Ruth from being suspicious. Still, Elizabeth wondered at how blind her aunt could be. It seemed as though her entire body glowed with the memory of Nat's kisses, as if the entire world should be able to see it.

But as they worked together to prepare supper that evening, Elizabeth felt flickers of doubt.

Elizabeth had never doubted whether she
ought
to have cast the spell. That much was obvious. She loved Nat. He should love her. The spell would make that happen.

Still, magic had taken a toll on Nat. Even her happiness couldn't blind her to that. It had to be frightening to feel as though your thoughts weren't your own, and upsetting to be at odds with your mother. (Elizabeth's own mother was nothing now but an unmarked grave and a series of ever-fading memories, but she knew she'd never have wanted to make her sad.) Yes, Elizabeth's spell could make Nat forget Rebecca Hornby . . . but would she also have to make him forget Widow Porter, his friends here in town, and virtually everything else about his life before Elizabeth?

If she did, and she emptied out that much of Nat's history—at the end, would he still be the man she loved?

Elizabeth stirred the stew on the wood stove, wiping her forehead as steam frizzed her curls. Fear curled in the pit of her belly now, fear and guilt.

Had she hurt him? Was he always going to be injured and lonely because of the spell she'd cast?

He won't be lonely,
Elizabeth thought with a fierce rush of determination.
He'll have me. I'll make it up to him, all of it. He'll never have one day where I'm not doing everything I can to make him happy. He'll never have one night where we're not as thrilled by each other as we were today. Wherever we go, he'll make new friends. We'll settle in, create a home together. And when I give him children, his life will be complete. No man could ask for more.

Smiling, Elizabeth settled back into her work, so cheerful she even sang to her cousins as she stirred. Already she was looking forward to tomorrow—tomorrow, when she and Nat had already agreed to leave Fortune's Sound together, forever.

 

Before going to sleep, Elizabeth managed to roll several of her things into a little bundle under the bed. Come midday tomorrow, it would be easy enough for her to dash in while Aunt Ruth was busy, collect it, and meet Nat at the edge of town. She dozed off quickly, despite her excitement; between all her preparations to elope and the vigorous afternoon she and Nat had spent together, she was exhausted.

Which was why it took a while for the sound to wake her.

Thump.

“What?” Elizabeth murmured, lifting her head from the pillow. The children were already awake, calling out questions, and downstairs, someone . . . someone was pounding at the door.

“Go on home!” Aunt Ruth called. “Get back home right away!” She sounded terrified.

Then, from outside, Elizabeth heard Nat call her name.

He had come for her. He'd come for her and he didn't care who heard, who saw. As reckless as Nat's behavior was, Elizabeth couldn't help glorying in it.

Slowly she rose from her bed. She wore only a simple shift, so light it was very nearly transparent. How Nat's eyes would light up when he saw her like this.

As the pounding continued, Elizabeth walked toward the door. Aunt Ruth had it barred, and had braced her shoulder against it. She realized Nat wasn't so much knocking on the door as throwing himself against it, trying to batter it down.