The Sacrifice (6 page)

“You are as restless as a sheep about to be shorn, Bear,” Mama said, chuckling. “The meadow is a fine place for a bit of sport. Go on, run. Lift your skirts. There is no one to see you but me.”

“Nay, Mama,” Abigail said. “When your fever broke, I made a promise to the Lord never to race like that again.”

Mama laughed. “’Twas a noble idea you had, Abby. But I daresay that the Lord cares little for a child’s promise made when she is worried. Come. Lets have no more of this nonsense. Stand and run, Abigail. I know you wish to, and it would please me to see you.”

Abigail turned her eyes uncertainly up to Mama, who gave her a nod and a prod with her hand.

Abby grinned. She stood and took a deep breath. Then, lifting her skirts above her knees, she began to race. The grass and the ground flew by her in a blur. She felt ready to take off as her heart lifted, and she shouted for joy. Farther and farther she ran, until, tired and breathing hard, she stopped.

She turned and saw Mama at a great distance, waving and smiling. Just then a cloud passed overhead, blocking the sun for a minute. Abigail felt a chill. Mama seemed so far away, and the world seemed suddenly so cold. A sense of foreboding filled her, and she couldn’t help but wonder, in spite of Mama’s laughing, if her mother had been wrong about her promise to the Lord. What if, by breaking her promise, Abigail had led them all to some awful and terrible disaster? Standing there in the now dark and chilly air, Abigail was almost certain she had.

Several weeks later, Mama,
now fully recovered, prepared to do the laundry. Abigail and Dorothy carried loads of soiled garments outside to Mama, whose hands were deep in a large wooden bucket of soapy water. Dorothy began rinsing and wringing the garments, and Abigail laid them to dry in the sun. They were hard at work when Grandpappy came up the road to see them.

“Hannah,” he said, “leave the washing to your daughters. I must speak to you in private.”

Grandpappy would not look at them, and his clothes were askew, as if he had dressed in a hurry that day. Abigail’s heart quickened.

Mama dropped the garment she had been scrubbing into the soapy water and nodded for Abigail to
take over. Abby moved to do as her mother asked, but she did so quietly, hoping to hear what Grandpappy had come to say. She stole a quick glance at Dorothy beside her, who also seemed to be concentrating in order to hear.

But Grandpappy spoke in a low whisper. Abigail could hear nothing, yet she saw her mother’s eyes widen.

Then Grandpappy left, without so much as a good-bye. Mama came and took the dirty garment back from Abby.

“I’ve got it now, Bear,” she said.

“What did Grandpappy want, Mama?” Franny called out. She was sitting on the doorstep, churning butter.

“Keep your mind on your work, Franny,” Mama called back to her, “and not on your grandfather.”

Mama bent back over the washing tub. In a voice so soft that Abigail could barely hear it, Mama spoke to them.

“Joseph Ballard has sent for the girls from Salem Village who claim to be tormented by the devil,” she said. “He believes that his wife’s illness is a sign of the devil’s work, so the girls have been sent for to see
if the devil is amongst us. Grandpappy has tried in vain to stop them coming, but no one would listen.”

“Could it be so, Mama?” Dorothy asked. “Could the devil be the cause of Mistress Ballard’s illness? She has been ill for a long time.”

Mama shrugged. “I know not, Dorothy. But do you believe that one amongst us is doing the devil’s work?”

Abigail thought back to the harsh words said to her on the Sabbath after her day in the stocks.

“Perhaps Goody Sprague,” she said, smiling.

Dorothy giggled.

But Mama gave them both a sharp look. “Words such as those are the very reason Grandpappy believes the girls are accusing so many in Salem Village. It is revenge, not the devil.”

“Well then,” Dorothy said sensibly, “the girls will find nothing here. They have no argument with anyone of Andover.”

“I hope that is true,” Mama said, sighing.

“When do the girls arrive?” Abby asked.

“On the morrow,” Mama replied.

Abigail thought about these girls who had been touched by the devil. What would they look like?
Would they show signs of the devil or the witches that were tormenting them?

“Can we go see them?” Abigail asked.

“Certainly not, Abigail Faulkner,” her mother said firmly. “On the morrow, we will be attending to our mending and dyeing as we do every Wednesday. Your father and Paul will see to the planting. I’ll have no foolishness over these girls. There are chores to be done, and chasing after the devil is not one of them.”

Abigail sighed. She almost envied the girls. She would have welcomed a ride in the summer sunshine from Salem Village to Andover. There would be no chores for
them
that day. They could sit and ride and talk the whole way over, something children were rarely allowed.

“What are you whispering about?” Franny called from the porch.

Mama turned and smiled back at her. “Nothing, little one. How is that butter?”

“’Tis slow in coming,” Franny grumped, “and my arm is weary.”

Mama frowned. “Your backside will be weary, Franny Faulkner, if you don’t finish your churning.”

She turned and handed the last of the garments to
Dorothy. “I wish to keep this from Franny and Paul,” she said. “I expect you will speak naught of it to them.”

Abigail and Dorothy nodded their agreement, but in her heart, Abigail wondered if the secret they kept would be quiet for long. Soon all the town would know of the girls’ arrival.

The next morning, Abigail woke to a day full of sunshine and the knowledge that this was the day the girls were to arrive from Salem Village. She tried to imagine them riding over the rutted road toward Andover, their eyes troubled from their encounters with the devil and his witches.
Maybe,
she thought,
there were even marks on their arms where they had been touched by those evil hands
. She shook the thought from her head.

“Abigail,” called her mother. “Do you think you are to stay abed all day?”

“I’m coming, Mama,” Abby called back. She rose swiftly. The summer sunshine was pouring in through the diamond-shaped windows, making beautiful colors on the wooden floor. It hardly seemed like a day for devilry.

Abigail dressed and went down to help with the breakfast and to feed the chickens. She laughed as the animals scurried around, pecking at her feet. She lifted her face to the sunshine and smiled.

“Bear!” Mama called sharply. “You are a slow child today. Come in for breakfast and then we must tend to our mending. Paul ripped a hole in his best breeches last Sunday that seems as wide as the ocean itself.”

Abigail went back inside the house.

“Mama,” she asked, “do you think we could sit outside and mend? The day is so beautiful that I hate the thought of being in a dark house.”

Mama smiled affectionately at her daughter. “Aye, Abby, ’tis a fine idea for today. As long as your thoughts don’t wander from your chores, I think it would be a most pleasant way to do our mending.”

Dorothy, who was filling the plates up with breakfast, smiled at Abigail, pleasure on her face. Franny clapped her hands with excitement.

Paul came in. “What is everyone so merry about?” he asked.

“Mama says we can sit outside to do our mending,” Franny said.

Paul rolled his eyes. “I’d take one day sitting
inside doing your female chores instead of all the chores I have to do outside, sunshine or not. You have it easy every day, Franny.”

“Do not,” Franny said, sticking out her tongue.

“Do too,” Paul said.

“Do not,” Dorothy said hotly, coming to Franny’s defense. “I’ve never seen you wring a chickens neck and pluck its feathers, or birth a pig, or brush wool until your hands bleed trying to make it clean and fine.”

“Well, I never saw you chop wood, or build a barn, or sit still in the woods hunting, unable to move at all, even when you have to go in the worst sort of way,” Paul shot back.

“Enough, enough,” Mama said, smiling. “Come along and eat now so you can get back to your horrible lives.”

That set them all to laughing, and when Papa came in, they were still giggling. His eyes lit up when he saw them.

“And what has everyone so cheery, might I ask?” he said.

“The girls are doing their chores outside today,” Paul complained.

“You may do your chores outside today too, Paul,” Papa joked.

“That’s a fine offer,” Paul grumbled.

They all laughed at his grumpiness, until even he joined in laughing. Papa grinned at Abigail, and she couldn’t help but grin back. Since that time in May, Papa had been fine. And in spite of her resentment of his fits, when Papa was fine, everything seemed right with the world.

Later, the girls sat on stools out in the sunshine, the huge basket of mending at their feet. Abigail leaned her back against the warm wood of the house. Her needle went in and out, in and out, slowly mending each rift and tear.

They worked in silence, but it was companionable. The beauty of the day surrounded them. Occasionally, Abigail let the mending fall from her hands and gazed out across the land in front of her, awash in the brilliance of summer sunshine.

It was at one such moment that she spotted Aunt Elizabeth, hurrying up the hill toward them.

“Aunt Elizabeth is coming,” she said to her sisters.

“Mama,” she called, for Mama had gone inside
to check the fire, “Aunt Lizzy is coming.”

Mama came to the door, wiping her hands on a cloth. “Perhaps she’ll stay to eat, then,” Mama said, smiling. “When Paul comes in from the fields for supper, he can run and fetch Daniel to see if he’ll join us. That would be most pleasant.”

But as Aunt Elizabeth drew near, Abigail could see the worry on her face. Mama’s smile disappeared.

“Eliza,” Mama said, “what is it? You look distressed.”

“Aye, sister, I am. Most terrible news has reached us, and I hurried here to give it to you,” Aunt Elizabeth said. “The girls arrived from Salem Village and were taken to Mistress Ballard’s house and to many others who were sick.”

Mama glanced at Franny, who sat very still on her stool.

“Perhaps we should speak of this inside, Elizabeth,” Mama said.

“There is no need, Hannah,” Aunt Elizabeth said. “I fear everyone will know shortly. For in each house they visited, the girls did see a witch at the head and the foot of each sickbed.”

Abigail turned to Dorothy, whose eyes were
wide. How was this possible? Witches in Andover? Abigail knew each and every person in her town. It did not seem possible that one of them could be a witch.

“Did they accuse anyone?” Mama asked.

“Nay,” Aunt Elizabeth said, “they cannot. The names in this town are not known to them. But Reverend Barnard and Justice Bradstreet have ordered that all in the town come to the meetinghouse and present themselves to the girls. There, they believe, the girls will be able to identify those who are working with the devil and causing these illnesses.”

Abigail could not believe what she was hearing. Would she and her family actually be taken to the meetinghouse and paraded in front of these girls? She had a fleeting thought of her father. Would they accuse him? No! There was no way for the girls to be aware of his fits.
Unless,
she thought,
someone told them!

“Did not our father try to put a stop to this madness?” Mama asked, her voice rising.

“Aye,” Aunt Elizabeth said. “But the townsfolk would have none of it. They believe the girls and want to know who amongst us is a witch.”

“But if the girls do lie, what is to stop them from accusing innocent people here in Andover?” Mama cried.

“Nothing, sister,” Aunt Elizabeth whispered. “Nothing at all.”

Abigail followed the others
toward town. She kept her eye on Papa, but he seemed strangely calm in the midst of this storm. This morning he had even brought a newly born lamb into the house for Franny, letting her hold him and name him. It was as if it were just another ordinary day to him.

Mama walked quickly, her boots making sharp indentations in the dirt. She was angry at the wasted day, grumbling all morning about the foolishness of this meeting.

Dorothy, Paul, and Franny were frightened, though. As they approached the meetinghouse, their steps slowed, until at last it seemed to Abigail that they were like earthworms crawling toward their doom.

“Come along,” Mama called back to them. “Let us be finished with this thing. There are chores to be done, and we mustn’t be about wasting the whole of the day with this nonsense.”

“I don’t see why we have to do it at all,” Dorothy whispered.

“You’re just scared they’ll find you out for the devil you are,” Paul said with a laugh.

“If there is a devil in this family, his name begins with a
P
,” Dorothy shot back.

“That’s enough,” Papa warned, and Paul and Dorothy grew quiet, though they knew Papa would do nothing about it if they continued to bicker.

Franny grabbed hold of Abigail’s hand. “There’s no devil in our family, is there, Abigail?”

Abby looked down at her sister’s wide, frightened eyes.

“Surely not, Franny,” Abigail said. “Would you take me for a witch?”

Franny shook her head.

“Paul then? Or Dorothy? Or little Edward?” Abigail asked.

Franny shook her head again.

“Or Mama or Papa?” Abigail questioned.

Here Franny hesitated. Abigail prayed that Franny would not hesitate like that at the meetinghouse.

Finally, Franny shook her head again.

“Then see here,” Abigail said sharply. “We have naught to fear from these girls or the witches that bother them.”

“What if the witches see me at the meeting-house,” Franny whispered, “and they come for me as they did for those girls from Salem Village?”

Surely that was not possible in their own meeting-house, but even Abigail felt a slight uncertainty.