Mamas mind on other matters.
But it did not help. Mama gripped the bars of the cell so hard that her knuckles turned white.
“He began hearing voices again on his return,” she said. “I tried to soothe him, but this morning the demons plagued him still. For once I could not help him, and I know not what to do to help you, either. I feel all is lost—everything I have loved and worked to keep together.”
Abigail stared in fright. Her mother had always been the strong one, the one with a plan, the one who would aid them and comfort them. But now she seemed spent.
“Mama,” Dorothy said, “you frighten me when you talk like this. Surely Grandpappy will find a way to free us. Do you not believe that the magistrates will find us innocent when they hear our case?”
Mama shook her head back and forth, saying nothing. Dorothy looked at Abigail, her eyes wide.
Then Abigail felt a hand on her shoulder. Aunt Elizabeth had moved to her side. The light the jailer had left fell full on her thin body and tired face. But when she spoke, there was no weakness there. “Hannah! You do these girls and the baby youcarry no service in such an emotional state. Pull yourself together, sister, and concentrate your energies on your family and the means to free your daughters.”
Mama looked up. Her eyes widened as she saw Elizabeth in the light.
“Eliza,” she whispered, “you look most horrible.”
Aunt Elizabeth let out a laugh. “Thank you, Hannah. You do not look particularly well yourself. But come. We were both aware of the horrors of this place before I or the girls arrived. I will watch over them here and keep them safe. But you, my dear sister, must do your part, too.”
Mama shook her head. “What?” she cried. “What is there for me to do?”
“Hannah,” Aunt Elizabeth said sharply, “I know not. I am in here, but you are there. You must find a way to convince these magistrates to free your daughters. There has to be a way, Hannah, and for them, you have to stay strong and find it.”
Mama stared at the floor.
“The Lord will help you, Hannah,” Aunt Elizabeth said.
Mama laughed bitterly. “The Lord has deserted us.”
Aunt Elizabeth shook her head. “Nay, sister. Our fellow man has deserted us. God is still with us, and he will save us. I believe that. And sister, if I can believe that, being
here,
surely you can believe it as you return home.”
Mama lifted her eyes to Aunt Elizabeth’s. They looked at each other for a long time. Then, slowly, Mama nodded. “Aye, sister. You are right.”
She sighed. “Forgive me, girls. I have been consumed with my own suffering. Aunt Elizabeth is right. You shall not be free unless I fight for your freedom, and this I promise to do. Though it pains me to see you, I must forget this heartache and work toward a solution that will end all our troubles.”
Tears streamed down Dorothy’s cheeks.
“I must go now, girls,” Mama said, “but I will find a way to free you. On this you may depend.”
Telling them that she would be back in two days, Mama called for the jailer and was led away. But Abigail did not feel better. With Papa ill and Mama herself pregnant, what strength could she find tohelp them to freedom? Abigail looked back at the darkened cell.
She would give anything, say anything, to be out of here. But what? What could she do that would convince the magistrates she was truly innocent?
sixteen
Abigail and Dorothy settled into the routine of Salem Town Prison. August gave way to September and then October, with no break from the cold, dampness, or dull weariness. Abigail’s arms and legs were soon covered with red sores from the bedbugs. Her hair grew greasy and full of lice. Her eyes burned from the smoke of the tallow candles, and she was no longer able to distinguish the bad smells of her cell. She knew that she, too, must smell as awful as the others around her.
As the weeks passed, Dorothy seemed to give up all hope. She did nothing all
But it did not help. Mama gripped the bars of the cell so hard that her knuckles turned white.
“He began hearing voices again on his return,” she said. “I tried to soothe him, but this morning the demons plagued him still. For once I could not help him, and I know not what to do to help you, either. I feel all is lost—everything I have loved and worked to keep together.”
Abigail stared in fright. Her mother had always been the strong one, the one with a plan, the one who would aid them and comfort them. But now she seemed spent.
“Mama,” Dorothy said, “you frighten me when you talk like this. Surely Grandpappy will find a way to free us. Do you not believe that the magistrates will find us innocent when they hear our case?”
Mama shook her head back and forth, saying nothing. Dorothy looked at Abigail, her eyes wide.
Then Abigail felt a hand on her shoulder. Aunt Elizabeth had moved to her side. The light the jailer had left fell full on her thin body and tired face. But when she spoke, there was no weakness there. “Hannah! You do these girls and the baby youcarry no service in such an emotional state. Pull yourself together, sister, and concentrate your energies on your family and the means to free your daughters.”
Mama looked up. Her eyes widened as she saw Elizabeth in the light.
“Eliza,” she whispered, “you look most horrible.”
Aunt Elizabeth let out a laugh. “Thank you, Hannah. You do not look particularly well yourself. But come. We were both aware of the horrors of this place before I or the girls arrived. I will watch over them here and keep them safe. But you, my dear sister, must do your part, too.”
Mama shook her head. “What?” she cried. “What is there for me to do?”
“Hannah,” Aunt Elizabeth said sharply, “I know not. I am in here, but you are there. You must find a way to convince these magistrates to free your daughters. There has to be a way, Hannah, and for them, you have to stay strong and find it.”
Mama stared at the floor.
“The Lord will help you, Hannah,” Aunt Elizabeth said.
Mama laughed bitterly. “The Lord has deserted us.”
Aunt Elizabeth shook her head. “Nay, sister. Our fellow man has deserted us. God is still with us, and he will save us. I believe that. And sister, if I can believe that, being
here,
surely you can believe it as you return home.”
Mama lifted her eyes to Aunt Elizabeth’s. They looked at each other for a long time. Then, slowly, Mama nodded. “Aye, sister. You are right.”
She sighed. “Forgive me, girls. I have been consumed with my own suffering. Aunt Elizabeth is right. You shall not be free unless I fight for your freedom, and this I promise to do. Though it pains me to see you, I must forget this heartache and work toward a solution that will end all our troubles.”
Tears streamed down Dorothy’s cheeks.
“I must go now, girls,” Mama said, “but I will find a way to free you. On this you may depend.”
Telling them that she would be back in two days, Mama called for the jailer and was led away. But Abigail did not feel better. With Papa ill and Mama herself pregnant, what strength could she find tohelp them to freedom? Abigail looked back at the darkened cell.
She would give anything, say anything, to be out of here. But what? What could she do that would convince the magistrates she was truly innocent?
sixteen
Abigail and Dorothy settled into the routine of Salem Town Prison. August gave way to September and then October, with no break from the cold, dampness, or dull weariness. Abigail’s arms and legs were soon covered with red sores from the bedbugs. Her hair grew greasy and full of lice. Her eyes burned from the smoke of the tallow candles, and she was no longer able to distinguish the bad smells of her cell. She knew that she, too, must smell as awful as the others around her.
As the weeks passed, Dorothy seemed to give up all hope. She did nothing all
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