Page 99 of The Women of Wild Hill
“He did,” Bessie told him.
He shouldn’t have been surprised. He knew what his father was capable of doing. But he’d hoped there was a different explanation. It wasn’t the first time Calum Geddes would disappoint him—and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
“I don’t understand why. You said that he loved her.”
“He was given a choice. He could be with happy with Flora or he could be a leader of men. Calum was greedy. He opted for both. In doing so, he chose the world of men over Wild Hill.”
“That’s why Flora committed suicide?” Liam asked.
“No,” Bessie told him. “But your father’s decision opened up a new path for her, and she took it.”
“He must regret his decision,” Liam said. “He’s tried to visit this place a dozen times that I know about.”
“He will never again be allowed on Wild Hill.”
“You sent the ravens to stop him?” He’d begun to believe her.
“And the locusts and the hail and the frogs.”
Liam nodded. “Like the Bible.”
Bessie chuckled. “The authors stole all they fancied from the Old One’s stories. Storms, swarms, and plagues are her tools. They are all far older than the gods of men.”
“Your Old One must not want my father to visit Flora’s grave.”
“She’s not petty,” Bessie told him. “If that were the reason Calum comes to Wild Hill, she would let him in. He’s searching for the poison he used to murder his former partner.”
“Poison?” Liam balked at the notion. “No, the doctors said James died of natural causes.”
“Your science is very primitive,” Bessie told him. “Your doctors may believe they’re omniscient, but they’re like little children playing games. Your father used the same poison that Flora drank the day she died.”
Liam looked like he might choke on the truth. “Shouldn’t I do something? Go to the police? He can’t be allowed to get away with murder.”
“The laws of men are of no use to you. Your father must be allowed to follow the path he is on. He will be a leader of men, and he will lead those men to this Island.”
“So I do nothing?”
“I did not say that. Much will be asked of you. As of this moment, you are on the right path as well. Follow it faithfully. Do not leave it for a moment. After your father dies, it will bring you back to Wild Hill. When all seems lost, tell my girls Bessie sent you.”
The Swimming Test
There was a symmetry to it that Brigid couldn’t help but appreciate. One of the first deaths she’d ever seen had been her own. She’d witnessed her own drowning the day she’d watched the little boy die at the beach. She was as helpless now to save herself as she’d been to save anyone else over the last forty years. Sometimes the only way to marvel at the order of the world is to step back from it. And though she could feel the arms dragging her down to the beach, she was already far, far away.
Aunt Ivy had told them of the swimming test. The way accused witches—some Duncan women among them—would be tied up and tossed into the water. If they drowned, they were innocent. If they lived, they would be burned at the stake.
“That’s not fair!” Phoebe had protested.
“The world is not fair,” Ivy told her. “That’s why we must strive to balance the scales.”
Brigid had always known better than to expect fairness from this world. But somehow, she kept forgetting.
BRIGID LOOKED FOR LIAM INthe crowd before they pushed her under the water. When they lost hold of her and she came up gasping, she searched again. She thought, maybe, he’d felt enough for her to be there when she died. But no. She’d spared the man who’d betrayed her. Now death had come, but she did not feel alone. She’d saved her sister and her niece. That was all that mattered. Given the samechoice, she would make it again and again and again. This time, when they held her under, Brigid opened her mouth and filled both lungs with water.
“YOUR FAITH IN ME WILLsee you through.” It was her mother’s voice.
Brigid opened her eyes. She was back on Wild Hill, with the wind sweeping over the meadow and rippling the water in the pond. Her mother was there. So were Sadie and Rose and Ivy and Lilith. “I must be dead.”
“Yes,” Ivy told her. “Just for now.”
