Page 18 of Deja New
NINE
APRIL 15, 1710
CONCORD, MASSACHUSETTS
So the dead would stay dead and she would marry. She was old for such things—she would see thirty soon, and felt a thousand—but, regardless, her father would see that she lacked for nothing. As he should.
Payment rendered for twenty murders. Although it could have been worse.
Even now, she had trouble believing it had all happened, all of it hadreally happened, it had been like a roaring conflagration, devouring lives and smashing families and leaving only useless stinking ash behind.
Useless stinking ash was her heritage, and never was one more deserved. And it could have been worse. That was what she told herself through every day and night of the horror: Twenty murders, yes, but seventy-two were tried, so it couldhave been worse. Twenty murders, but nearly a hundred accused, so it could have been worse.
Rebecca Nurse was bad enough. And Bridget Bishop. And Susannah Morse. And John Proctor. They were dead and everyone was safe. They were dead and everyone was safe and if other people now had Bridget’s taverns, and Rebecca’s vast acres, and Susannah’s inheritance, and John’s many properties, that was mere coincidence and certainly nothing that should haunt her, haunt her, haunt her.
It wasn’t as though powerful men, intelligent men, men who knew a great deal more about the world than she ever would, encouraged her. Oh no-no-no. The dead were witches, and a danger to all of them and thank God and His Beloved Son they were now and forever casting their spells in hell. But she had heard her father’s complaints about Bridget’s brazen ways
(“A woman should own nothing, and certainly not taverns or public places of any sort.”)
and John’s stinginess
(“He could so easily be of assistance. And he won’t; I truly believe the devil pushes out all his good impulses.”)
and the Nurse family’s land disputes
(“We had an agreement. That particular plot of land is mine by rights. And they know it, but their greed smothers the voice of God.”)
and theywerewitches, theywerethe servants of Satan, they had devils’ marks on their bodies and spells in their lying, crying mouths and everyone was safe now, it was over and they were safe and she was to be married and it wasn’t her fault and it was all her fault.
She would marry Benjamin Baron and bear him childrenand teach them the Lord’s Prayer, and warn them that devils were real and often looked like ordinary people and sounded like her father. She would live to be an old woman, too old to be afraid of ghosts and it would be all right.
Everything would be all right.
