Children of Salem

Francis looked stricken at the idea, and he searched Rebecca for an answer. When she said nothing, he burst out with, “Then we will fight them with every breath.”

“If they come for Mother Nurse,” warned Jeremy, “they’ll come armed and in numbers.”

“Then we call my sons and the Townes, the Tarbells, and the Cloyeses together,” he defiantly replied, “and not for no picnic; rather for battle.”

“I won’t hear of such!” Rebecca shouted at Francis and threw a brush she’d been clutching at him. “You are not to get Ben or Joseph or any of my boys harmed over this! The grandchildren, all those boys spoiling for a fight! Do you understand?”

Francis frowned and picked up the brush that’s barely missed him.

“Tell me that you understand!”

“I understand your wishes, Mother.” Francis stepped to a window and stared out at the surrounding darkness.

“Do you promise, old man?” she had gotten up and pursued him and said this in his ear.

Francis gritted his teeth and turned to face her. “You expect men to stand aside? Your sons and I to-to stand by and watch them arrest you, place shackles on you, put you in that ugly cart they’ve used to parade Goode, Osborne, and Tituba through the streets?”

“We can’t do that, Mother!” Serena firmly said, the blunderbuss still in hand.

“You can and you will. I will not have any of you harmed, Serena. Besides, this is no surprise, as you say— brewing for many years.”

Jeremy raised a hand to the upset family. “So this witchcraft accusation against Mother Nurse is their latest expedient, but we have cards to play as well. Look, we need to get word to Boston.” He held up a piece of paper. “The authorities in Boston must be informed.”

“You do that, Mr. Wakely,” said Rebecca, sarcasm tingeing her voice.

“What is this you have, Jeremy?” asked Serena of the flurrying parchment in his hand.

“I made a copy, word for word!”

“Parris’ sermon?”

Francis’ eyes lit up. “The one you left with Corwin and Hathorne?”

“The very same.”

“Good man!” exclaimed Francis.

Serena grabbed Jeremy by the arm and tugged him into a kiss on the cheek.

Mother Nurse muttered solemnly, “Then take our sore village news to Boston and plead for better men to come in and take over the courts here, Jeremiah, and challenge Mr. Parris, and throw him from our midst, as you would fulfill a prophetic dream of all in this house.” Rebecca paused over her tea. “It’s a dream I’d love to see bear fruit, but I remain skeptical.”

“What other recourse have we?” he countered while Serena and Francis looked over Parris’ sermon naming Mother Nurse a witch to be excommunicated. “We’ve no time to waste. I’ll ride for Boston tonight.”

“You will do no such thing,” the elderly woman now chastised her guest. “I hear thunder in the distance.”

“I suspect it’s Mr. Putnam and the militia, firing off that damn cannon again.” Francis helplessly watched the good China jump.

“Still, it’s a moonless night.” Rebecca motioned for more tea. “And there’re highwaymen at work on such nights. You go tomorrow with the sun in your face.”

“As always, Mother is right,” said Francis, hugging her to him even as she sat. “She has always been my guide. The brains around here.” He laughed, his wife laughed, Serena tried to laugh, but it fell flat as she returned Jeremy’s copy of the villainous sermon, and then she set aside the gun for the teapot. Jeremy managed a smile at this.

“I suspect we are all safe tonight,” said Francis, now calmed it seemed by his wife’s demeanor. “Can’t see the sheriff and his men coming out at this hour.”

“Not even to please Sam Parris?” Serena half-joked.

“All the same, you must each promise me here and now that if—and when—they come,” began Rebecca, “because they will come as sure as I am before you, that you will not lift a finger to resist them.” This made them all stare at Rebecca. “Promise! You must all promise me now! Serena? Francis? Jeremiah?”

“It’s Ben you need worry about,” countered Francis.

“It’s why I sent him away to Connecticut to buy that fool machine he wants for lumbering.” Ben had long wanted to start his own lumber mill.

“Clever old girl,” muttered Francis.

“Promise me!” she erupted.

Francis, his voice dripping with reluctance, finally said, “I already made promise.”

Serena refused to make any such promise, making it clear that she could not. When her mother insisted, she ran outside and onto the porch, Jeremy pursuing. Under the stars, he held her close. “I’m sorry to bring such news to your home, Serena, to disturb the peace of your lives, but I thought you all must be warned, including your aunts and uncles.”

From inside, they heard Mother Nurse shout, “Jeremiah, Serena! I shall hold you to your word, each of you.”

Again the night fell silent, and Jeremy kissed Serena passionately. She returned his kiss and held him tight. Then they heard the murmurs of her parents inside.

“What are they saying?” Jeremy asked her.

Serena wiped away tears and sniffled. Mother’s praying everyone in Salem, and for the family, for us all, including you.”

“Peace, she’s asking for,” Jeremy said, catching a few words now.

“Peace,” Serena sneered. “When have we ever known peace in this parish?”

“I wish I could make this all go away, Serena; you know that I love you, and I only want the best for you and your family.”

“Nothing to be done tonight,” she muttered, her hands clasped in his.

“Nothing?”

“Hold me.”

“Done.”

Chapter Two

Jeremiah and Serena shared the swing porch, and after a quick glimpse around to be certain no one was peeking out at them, they shared several more passionate kisses. Sometime later, she arranged for him to sleep in Ben’s room as a guest of the Nurse family.

Jeremy spent a fitful night’s rest, certain that Serena had even less sleep, so deep was her fear for her mother’s safety. Samuel Parris had transformed from an awkward, bumbling, rude and obnoxious minister to the earthly embodiment of evil itself. “Satan transformed,” as Serena had put it. An apt summation, even if you didn’t believe Satan capable of walking the earth. Evil certainly did. And evil so often took a pleasing shape, and if not a pleasing form then an everyday, dull, ordinary one, one so mundane as to be ignored or shooed off without being given a thought, and in that lack of interest or thought, it struck like a viper. Too oft ignored for too long—as in this case, Jeremy thought even as he awoke the next day and found himself in young Ben Nurse’s bed. Ben was younger than Serena by a year, but he thought himself a wise old man, taking after his father. Even when they were all children, Ben could not be controlled, and it had been wise to get him out of the vicinity. Surely, Rebecca knew her brood.

Jeremy stood nude, feeling good that he had for the first time since arriving in Salem been comfortable enough to sleep in his skin alone; he’d not once felt comfortable enough in the Parris home to do so. He now stretched and examined his body before a bureau mirror. Fearful of a paunch that seemed to be overtaking him, he did twenty pushups and fifty sit-ups to prepare for the difficult journey ahead by horseback. He did all this quietly in an attempt to wake no one.

He then quickly dressed, feeling better prepared for the hard ride necessary this morning than he had been