“Thank you for letting me in,” Ian says with a smile, addressing them all. “Again I am sorry to drop by unannounced. I’ll be in Bishop another couple of days and then just over in Boston for a week after that.”
“Work or pleasure?” Kayla asks conversationally, as she settles back on the couch next to Cara and snuggles into her.
“Technically work, but there are always good times to be had in Boston.” He bows his head. “But do not hesitate to call if you need anything.”
I can see in his eyes that he is skeptical that we’ve rid ourselves of Mary entirely, and that is why he is making this offer. While I trust Juniper, and the entire house feels exorcised of the dark shadow that had crept in every corner as long as I could remember, Ian’s reluctance to believe makes me nervous.
“I’m sure I’ll see you at the hotel before we both leave,” I say, chasing my fears away. “And of course we both share L.A.”
“Yes, please, don’t be a stranger.” He smiles at everyone in turn before departing.
The night has dragged on and before I know it, it’s 2am and I can barely keep my eyes open. I decline Erik’s offer to stay overnight, knowing that I will want to go straight to his room, but am too bone tired to enact romance. I want everything to be perfect. I’ve waited this long, what’s another night?
After we’ve said our goodbyes, I ride home with Kayla, and sit pensively in the back. My ruminations keep wandering to that Twilight Zone portion of my brain where that imp lives. The one who insists that all is still not right, that the nightmare will persist.
Eventually I sigh and sit back. It’s trauma that keeps the imp alive, and time will prove it. I tell myself that with normalcy, the imp will starve and then I will know that it’s all OK. That everything is fine. Everything has to be fine now.
Chapter 15
Mary
1703
The next day when George came to tell me of Malvina’s condemnation and death I just nodded blankly. He told me that she had died bravely with a stoic expression stamped onto her face until they placed the cover over her head and kicked the chair out from under her at the hanging tree.
Never on her way to her fate did she whimper or cry, just squared her shoulders with dignity and remained still despite the chill in the air. He told me he had locked eyes with her before they covered her face, intent that she would see a friendly face at the end and he stayed until her body was still, just swaying gently in the frosty wind.
He had insisted that they cut her down and give her a proper burial, though it was frowned upon when someone was condemned of witchcraft, especially when she’d had no family to claim her body.
I thanked him for his kindness and ignored him when he began to speak about our awkward encounter with his wife and child. This cabin, our meadow and woods would be for us. Here Sarah and his progeny didn’t exist. Here he was mine.
As time passed people naturally began coming to my cabin to be healed and helped, knowing that my apprenticeship had afforded me cabalistic knowledge. I took their coin and their offerings and helped them, though I always held scorn in my heart knowing that they had all been nails in Malvina’s coffin, just as they may one day be for me.
Iris and I had all that we needed between farming, trapping and goods and money for my services—though few luxuries. Like I before her, Iris began to learn the ways of herbalism and healing and I watched as every year she blossomed into a beauty to rival my own.
I often dreamed of escaping the cabin, setting up a life in a place not mired in memories of misery, but my continuing affair with George kept me stagnant. He was a golden shackle upon my leg and a palatial prison that I willingly stayed in. We never talked of his life, but as I visited town out of necessity, I would occasionally see Sarah, dressed in fine gowns, followed by one, and then two, and then three towheaded children. Proof of time in his marital bed that wore on me month after month and then year after year.
Even as my bitterness grew, I accepted him into my bed, where I began hating loving him, but I could not stop. He’d become part of me, a part as vital as my beating heart and I knew I could not live without him.
Iris grew to love George as well, willingly keeping the secret of our affair and also turning to him for guidance. He filled a surrogate father role for her, and it was around this time that my dissatisfaction felt like it could only be mended by one thing.
One balmy afternoon, as we lay in bed I rolled onto my side, propping my head onto my hand as I trailed my other hand down his chest, taking in his familiar scent.
“George, do you still care for me?” I asked gently, searching his eyes and was comforted to see desire still there.
“I love you as I’ve never loved another soul, Mary,” he told me, holding my hand over his heart, his eyes drinking me in.
“I find myself wanting more, George,” I began as he stared at me, eyes transforming from lust-filled to concerned. “I want to be with you.”
“You are with me,” he said carefully, removing his hand from mine and sitting up. “Sarah does not inspire this in me and she does not get this facet of me, my love.”
“The evidence that she does stings my eyes on every town trip I’m forced to make,” I said bitterly. “One child after the next proves that she gets you like this, and also in a hundred ways I do not.”
“I
