“She was so close I could smell her—almost reach out and touch her. Her movement was both graceful and feral…the moonlight shone silver in her hair, invoking images of Artemis on the hunt. A sigh escaped my lips as I imagined the taste of that sweet skin and the warmth of her gentle weight above me, her golden hair spilling across my bare chest as she…Why do I care for some stupid, wealthy bint who has never known suffering?”
~From the diary of William Wells; October 17th, 1685
~*~
“How can you be shivering? It isn’t that cold!” Dawn giggled.
Elizabeth threw a peeved glare at her cousin while her teeth chattered audibly. The late afternoon sun stretched across the churchyard; and while she’d tried to find a sunny patch of grass on which to sit, it wasn’t doing much good as the shadows crept out. Tara reached into her leather satchel and unfolded a quilt which she tossed to Elizabeth across the circle.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said pointedly, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders and returning her focus to the pile of unshucked corn.
The largest crowd she’d ever seen in Wethersfield overflowed the land surrounding the little church; and the typically stiff, conservative atmosphere of the townsfolk had been replaced with uncharacteristic levity and merry-making. This annual celebration was one of the few occasions where both ale and music were not prohibited. A small group of musicians (consisting of a pennywhistle and two fiddlers) played a series of Scottish and Irish folk tunes invoking memories of elder generations that recalled a different homeland. Families and friends gathered in circles, singing along and laughing with one another while they picnicked and husked sweet corn.
Elizabeth and Dawn had been permitted by Nathaniel and Jenny to sit with a small group of young women from bible study; and Elizabeth found herself listening contentedly as the girls chattered and gossiped, the mood light and pleasant for once.
“Lizzie, don’t look up now, but I believe the mayor’s son’s giving you an eye!” Janice Durham, a girl closer to Dawn’s age, whispered excitedly.
Elizabeth found she must’ve drifted during the gossip concerning Wethersfield’s most handsome young men. “That’s ridiculous. Why would Riley Finn bother looking at me?”
Her interest peeked despite her, so she stole a quick glance over her shoulder. Indeed, the attractive young man appeared to be staring in her general direction over his companion’s shoulder. He hurriedly looked away when her eyes met his.
“Oh he was looking at you! And I swear he’s flushed now that you noticed him. I bet he thinks you’re beautiful!” Janice squealed in delight.
“He’s not—he could’ve been looking at any of us,” Elizabeth replied, trying to sound nonchalant as her heart raced in excitement.
Mayor Finn’s eldest son was certainly the most desired bachelor in town. Rumor had it that he’d courted women before, but he and his father had not yet agreed on a match.
“Of course it was you! You really are the prettiest, Lizzie,” Dawn interjected.
Elizabeth felt heat rising in her cheeks, not wishing to be the center of attention. She’d never really thought much of her appearance…But was it possible that Mr. Finn could think she was pretty?
“Why does everyone else have all the luck?” Janice whined, “Even Tara’s getting married and I haven’t a single suitor!”
Looking up in surprise, Elizabeth said, “Tara, you’re engaged?!”
Now it was Tara’s turn to blush. “Well, I um—it’s kind of soon, so I—we didn’t really want to tell everyone yet. Warren Meers made an offer, and my father accepted.”
“That’s wonderful!” Elizabeth exclaimed, “Are you happy?”
“I guess. Warren seems like a—like a nice man,” she said simply, falling silent.
Obviously the marriage was not of her choosing. Elizabeth’s heart sank for her friend; she couldn’t imagine having to spend her life with someone she didn’t want to be with. The awkward silence broke when Emma, another rather obnoxious young girl in town, jumped into the circle.
“Hey guess what?” she paused in anticipation, waiting for the other girls to beg for information. When they did not, she shrugged and continued, “So the Anderson family—moving out of Connecticut! Which is so unfortunate because Michael was just about to ask me to marry him, I know it!”
“Why are they moving?” Elizabeth asked, placating the blonde in hopes that she would leave sooner.
“It’s rather strange. Michael’s youngest sister, the baby—I forget her name—disappeared. They think some crazy aunt or something took her to Massachusetts, so they’re going to get her and then stay, I guess.”
“If that were true, it seems like we would all know about it by now,” Janice said skeptically.
“It’s true, I swear! I think they were embarrassed about it and didn’t want to say anything. Mrs. Anderson just told my mother.”
“When did this happen?” Elizabeth asked, paralyzed at once with a sense of dread.
“When did the child disappear? Like last week or something.”
“That makes no sense. Their child disappeared, and they assumed that some distant relative—what—came in the middle of the night, took the baby, and just left?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t catch the whole story, but that’s what it sounded like. And anyway, that’s not the point. Hello? Michael’s moving!”
“How do they know that—that something didn’t happen? That something—someone else didn’t kidnap the child?”
“Calm down, Elizabeth. I’m sure everything’s fine. They didn’t sound that worried,” Emma replied, raising a brow at Elizabeth as though the other girl had clearly lost her mind.
Emma chattered on with what gossip she knew, probably inventing some of her own in the process. Elizabeth heard none of it. A missing little girl—a child screaming in the woods behind her house—the ghastly face in her nightmare. Even Mrs. Hearn said that strange things happened in Wethersfield—things no one spoke of. People disappeared. And how convenient that no one seemed to worry, no one questioned…Though she longed to ask Emma what she knew about the graveyard and Raven Pond and a mysterious stranger named William, Elizabeth decided that the foolish town gossip was likely not the wisest source of information. And she had an uneasy feeling that it would probably not be in her best interest to be caught asking such questions.
--
After taking a small sample of ale, Elizabeth gradually felt warmer and more willing to put aside her worries for the time being. A drum and second pennywhistle added to the little band of musicians after the sun went down, and the townsfolk, satiated after the passing of ale, began to carouse a bit louder. The band started a round of the familiar tune “Four Green Fields” and the crowd clapped the rhythm in response. Elizabeth rose to her feet, slightly more wobbly than usual, and began to dance to the light melody. In the Caribbean colonies, she’d attended parties with song and dance that drew inspiration from both Irish and African traditions. So as she jumped and twirled to the beat of the drum, her feet recalled steps she had learned in years past.
“Lizzie! Lizzie, you must stop that at once before anyone notices!” Dawn hissed, tugging at the hem of her cousin’s skirt so forcefully that she nearly caused the older girl to topple over.
“Dawn, you should learn to let go and enjoy yourself once in a while,” Elizabeth replied breathlessly.
“Let go of what? Lizzie we shouldn’t do anything that might get us into trouble.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth spotted a thicket of oak trees at the opening of a wood nearby, and a brilliant idea came upon her slightly intoxicated mind. “Come with me,” she shouted over the din, pulling a reluctant, stuttering Dawn by the hand.
“Where are you going?” Tara called after them.
Elizabeth motioned for her to follow, and the three girls headed toward the grove of trees, laughing and stumbling along the way. When they were finally concealed from the crowd, Elizabeth once more began to dance. Dawn and Tara watched timidly with apprehension at first, and then slowly joined her, imitating her steps. They all shrieked with laughter, sharing something forbidden as they joined hands and spun in circles. Elizabeth hardly noticed when her bonnet tumbled to the earth, causing her hair to fall loose down her back. A light sheen of perspiration covered her brow, and as she twirled, she tilted her neck up to see the swirling stars glittering overhead. She felt alive for the first time in months.
If it were not for the absence of her inhibitions, Elizabeth might have sensed a pair of blue eyes watching her from the shadows.
--
A couple of days after the festival, life in Wethersfield slipped back into the same routine. Elizabeth cooked dinner by herself, a meal which, not surprisingly, included multiple corn dishes. Reverend Nathaniel was in an uncharacteristically pleasant mood over supper, and to the shock of Elizabeth, he praised the meal more than once. After the family finished, she rose to begin clearing the dishes to the kitchen.
“Please sit, Elizabeth. Jenny and Dawn will clean tonight,” Nathaniel declared cryptically.
Elizabeth returned to her seat, trying to hide her panic. Her uncle scarcely ever spoke to her, and now suddenly he wanted to have a word privately? She remembered what she’d overheard weeks earlier: The girl is wrong…Oh God what if he knows?! What if he knows that we danced? What if he knows that Dawn’s learning to read? What if he knows that I’ve been asking questions? Once they were alone in the room, he cleared his throat and Elizabeth braced herself for the worst.
“Elizabeth, I must say, I’m quite pleased with the way you’ve been adjusting.”
“I know, I can explain—wait, pleased?”
“Certainly. Your behavior, manners, and decorum have improved greatly.”
“Thank you. I’ve been trying, sir.”
“Much of the town has noticed as well, and you have become one of our finest, upstanding young ladies. Now I am very happy to share some good news with you. I have been approached by a young man wishing to court you.”
“Someone wants to—me? Really?”
“Not just anyone. The mayor’s son, Riley Finn, has expressed interest. Elizabeth, we must do everything we can to make this match work. Do you know what it would mean for this family to have you marry so well?”
“I’m honored,” Elizabeth replied, stunned.
“Of course. It is a great honor for all of us, that he would even consider you. Mr. Finn will come to the house tomorrow afternoon, and you must look and act your best.”
Elizabeth simply nodded, the surprising news not really sinking in.
--
“I saw you at the festival, and I could just tell that you’re special,” Riley said.
They sat awkwardly side-by-side on the front steps of the house. Jenny worked the fields out back while Dawn spied conspicuously from the window upstairs; and Elizabeth wished more than anything that one of them would assist her in making this slow conversation a little more interesting. What on earth was she supposed to talk about with the mayor’s son?
“Thank you…you seem special too.”
“What interests you, Miss Elizabeth?
“I don’t know. People, literature, the sea…What about you?”
“I studied at Harvard and intend to work in governing the people, like my father…You know, you’re sort of peculiar.”
“Peculiar, thank you. Just what every woman longs to hear.”
“I didn’t mean—not in a negative way. I just meant you’re different from most of the women around here. And I realize we don’t know each other well yet, but I think I like you, if I may be so bold.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you? Don’t you—isn’t there anything you’d like to say? How do you feel about me?”
“Well I don’t really know you, Mr. Finn.”
“I know, but you must have some sort of opinion.”
“I think…you seem to be a good man, and I am honored that you’ve come.”
Riley seemed to accept her vague reply, at least for the moment. She studied him out of the corner of her eye as he stared nervously at the dirt below their feet. He was tall, handsome, intelligent, and part of an influential family…what more could she hope for in a suitor? But it seemed to Elizabeth that something was missing, though she could not pin point it exactly. Surely after some time, after she felt more comfortable being alone with him, she could grow to like him and, perhaps, even love him. That was certainly more than most women ever had. Never in her young life had she experienced this fabled romantic love, but she always imagined it would feel like diving from a cliff into the sea at sunrise—something frightening and exhilarating, new and free. The man beside her could never give her that, he could never read Homer’s words and understand the passion they kindled within her. But he could give her a comfortable life, and maybe that was enough.
Elizabeth broke the long silence, “Um it’s getting late Mr. Finn, and I have some mending to finish…”
“Oh well go right ahead. I’ll keep you company.”
She held back a frustrated sigh and excused herself to the kitchen to retrieve a skirt that needed hemming. She returned to his side and began her work, longing to say something but at a complete loss for new conversation topics.
“Is there anything I can get for you?” she asked, “It must be terribly dull for you just to sit there.”
“Don’t worry about me, Elizabeth. I’m content to be here with you.”
While she appreciated having a suitor, she really wished that he would just leave already.
--
“You must tell me absolutely everything, Lizzie! What did he say? What did you do? What did he smell like?” Dawn squealed, pouncing on Elizabeth’s bed and grasping her hands.
“Really Dawn, there isn’t much to speak of. And I don’t believe he had a smell. Or I didn’t notice.”
“You were alone with him for almost two hours! There must be stories to tell!”
“Well, we talked for a bit, and then we ran out of things to say so I worked on my mending while he just sat there.”
“Your mending?! Oh you did not!”
“I just…I don’t know about him, Dawn. I know I should be happy that he’s interested, but well, he was a bit dull and he called me peculiar which I find sort of offensive—“
“What? Elizabeth, do you realize how lucky you are? Every woman in this town—in this colony—would give anything to be in your position.”
“I know—I know, and I’m not trying to sound ungrateful, because I am…grateful. It’s just that I always thought—or hoped rather—that marriage would be something more.”
“What are you talking about? What more could you possibly want?”
“Never mind. You’re right. I don’t know what I’m going on about. I can only hope that Mr. Finn will make an offer.”
“Of course he’ll make an offer. Oh I can hardly wait for him to be in our family! And the wedding—it should be in the spring. The flowers will be lovely!”
“Yes, I am sure they would be lovely.”
--
Darkness everywhere—closing in around her on all sides. She was trapped in a tunnel made of iron. The silence suffocated her like claws squeezing her neck—she couldn’t scream, she couldn’t go back—all she could do was move forward, her steps slow and heavy. When the quiet began to break, she heard the sound of waves crashing on a rocky shore, and then laughter and singing—a familiar lullaby. A voice she knew.
“Mother, is that you? Mama? Where are you? I can’t see anything!”
“You weren’t meant to see, Elizabeth.”
“Mama, I’ve missed you so much! Are you really here?”
“I’m here, Lizzie. I didn’t think you’d find me.”
“I want to go home, Mama. Can you help me get home?”
“No. I’m not the one you should follow.”
“But I’m wrong here. I’m peculiar. You’re the only one I trust. You’re the only one that knows who I am.”
“But do you know who I am?”
“You’re my mother.”
“Everything I did was for you, you know that, right? Everything good in me was you.”
“No that’s—that’s not true. Everything about you was good. But Mama you have to tell me what to do.”
“I don’t need to tell you what you already know. You’re where you’re supposed to be.”
“I’m not supposed to be here! You died and I had to leave our home.”
“Everything dies. But you—you have so much to do, Elizabeth. If you don’t finish now, there’s always next time.”
“I don’t understand. Please don’t leave. Mother!” she screamed. But the silence returned, and her mother was gone.
Abruptly the air didn’t suffocate like it had before. She could feel wind and heat on her face, and she began to run. There was a light—a spark in the darkness. It grew larger and larger until suddenly she was falling and the world was bright, so bright it seared her eyes with painful radiance. When she felt solid ground beneath her at last, she could finally see. The landscape before her was a place she’d never seen in her waking life, and yet she understood it. A vast desert spread into the horizon in all directions. No vegetation could be found—only gnarled, dead things, and sand that swirled into the dry wind. She stood, brushing dirt from her shift and squinting into the blinding heat. A man stood in front of her, looking out into the distance. She recognized him, though he was dressed in strange garments and his hair was a different shade.
“William,” she said, and he turned at the sound of his name. He’d been expecting her.
“Not everything dies, Buffy,” he murmured.
She said nothing—she simply stood beside him and waited. And in this strange place, there was peace.
--
Something woke her from a dead sleep. The dream dissipated, all but traces of it forgotten. She could only remember feeling warm. Squinting in the darkness, Elizabeth listened carefully to discover what had brought her to sudden wakefulness. Everything seemed calm—silent, but for Dawn’s sighs and a loon calling forlornly from somewhere deep in the night. The hour must be quite late indeed, she decided, judging from the western placement of the crescent moon outside her window…Something wasn’t right—misplaced. Elizabeth shook her head at her jumpiness and settled under the quilt, figuring that if she’d heard something, it was nothing more than fragments of a dream world. But there—she heard it again. The sound was small: a slight, unnatural rustle in the trees. Suddenly a strangled cry cut through the wind, and she flew upright instantly, for there was no longer any mistaking it.
Her feet carried her hastily down the staircase, and as she grasped the doorknob, she realized with a chill down her spine that she’d lived this moment before. Barefoot in the night, shivering, wearing nothing but a thin cotton shift…what if it meant it lurked in the woods? Elizabeth froze, torn as to what to do next. Briefly she considered waking her aunt and uncle and telling them about the voice outside. But she knew they wouldn’t believe it; they’d only chastise her, calling her “wrong” and “peculiar” behind her back. Before she could adequately talk herself out of it, the door closed behind her and an icy gust of wind whipped across her cheeks.
Swiftly running through the fields, she could see a commotion—and a shadow—beneath the cove of trees. Instinct told her to keep cover as she drew nearer—the same instinct that carried her onward. She crouched on hands and knees in the mud and underbrush and slowly crept behind a large oak tree. When she noticed her rapid breath making small puffs in the air, she clasped a shaking palm over her mouth and simply watched. Two men fought brutally in the clearing. Each of them seemed weary, battered and bloodied. One man kicked the other in the abdomen, sending his opponent flying through the air until he slammed his back against a tree. The injured one lay crumpled on the earth completely still for a moment, and Elizabeth felt sure that he was dead. But soon he began to choke and then spit out a mouthful of blood before rising painfully to his feet.
“You hit like a lil girl, Townsend,” the man said haughtily in a wheezing breath while he took a moment to recover, pressing one hand against his back.
He clutched something in his fist as he strode, limping, toward the other man—a piece of wood. The other one darted a blow from this weapon, and as he spun swiftly in the moonlight, Elizabeth could see him clearly. The face wasn’t human—pale skin, ridged brow line, protruding teeth, eyes shining like copper.
“This is for that kid you slaughtered, you piece of shite,” the man with the weapon hissed.
An expression of pure terror passed over the ghastly face just before its adversary shoved the simplistic weapon into its chest…and then the thing just disappeared—literally vanished into the air. And Elizabeth did the worst thing she could’ve possibly done: she screamed.
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