Spirits in the Material World

by Lisa Shea

  “Of course,” he assured her.

  I noticed that the table by her bench had a copy of Mary Stewart’s The Wicked Day on it. “Reading about Mordred, I see.”

  She nodded enthusiastically. “You weren’t at the store when I stopped by, but your assistant recommended it to me. It’s the fourth book in that series about Merlin and Morgause. The next generation, as it were. You know, Mordred wasn’t all bad. He just did what he had to do to survive.”

  Gertie pushed open the front door, her face bright with relief. There you are. Come in, come in, we’re all waiting for you.”

  In another moment we were in the library with Prudence and Cassandra. Gertie closed the door behind us and then settled down into her leather seat. She looked around expectantly. “Did you bring Sarah with you today? Is she all right?”

  Marc leaned forward. “We have something to tell you. Sarah isn’t with us. She’s temporarily gone missing.” He held up a hand as panic coursed through her face. “I don’t want you to worry. We don’t have a sense that she’s hurt. But there does seem to be a pattern here. We just need to figure it out.”

  Gertie settled back down into her chair. “We’ll do what we can to help.”

  “That’s good. Amber and I would like to ask a favor of you three.”

  Prudence gripped Gertie’s hand. “Anything. Anything at all.”

  “Bryane Browninge is holding a special séance at his home tomorrow night. For the full moon. Alex and Roger will be there. We’d like it if the three of you could attend.”

  Prudence nervously nodded. “We’ve been to séances before. They seem sort of hit or miss. If you think going to this one could be helpful, then of course we’ll attend.”

  Cassandra said, “I’ve been spending every waking hour over at the library, going through their records, trying to figure out who the two girls could be. Surely if we figured that part out we’d make some progress. But it’s been a real challenge. Their names are incredibly common – Sarah and Anna. They had some younger brothers die at an early age, but so did many families in that time period.”

  She looked to us. “You’ve been spending more time with Sarah. Did she say anything about what she remembers, growing up? Anything at all that could help?”

  I shook my head. “We didn’t really talk about her childhood.” I thought back to the conversations we’d had over the course of last evening. “I guess, if anything, we did mention how scientific knowledge has improved over the centuries. After all, nowadays we know about the dangers of lead poisoning. But back then she said they had pewter plates, pewter goblets, and lots of lead crystal glasses as well.”

  Cassandra perked up with interest. “She said that?”

  I blinked. “Well, sure. But wasn’t that the case? That people would drink from lead-containing serving-ware and not think twice about it?”

  She grabbed up her laptop and began furiously clicking. “Yes, but pewter wasn’t a commonplace material. Most homes around Salem in the late 1600s would use wooden utensils. Carved wooden cups. Maybe cow’s horns. Move up the economic ladder and they could have some inexpensive pottery options. If they could afford metal it might be tin. But pewter? And lead crystal? In quantity? No, no, no. There’s got to be one family in a thousand who could afford that level of expense. One family in –”

  Her eyes widened in shock.

  Marc and I stood and went over to her. I asked, “What? What is it?”

  I could see, over her shoulder, what page she was on.

  My legs failed me, and it was Marc’s arm around my waist which kept me from falling.

  It was the page for Jonathan Corwin.

  For the Judge Jonathan Corwin.

  The man who presided over the Salem Witch Trials.

  The witch hunt which had directly led to the deaths of fourteen innocent women and six innocent men.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I stared at the page in shock. “You can’t be serious. Are you saying that Sarah and Anna are somehow related to Judge Jonathan Corwin?”

  Cassandra pointed. “Here. Look at the list of children from Jonathan and Elizabeth Corwin.”

  My eyes ran down the list.

  Elizabeth Corwin 1678-1706 (28 years)

  Margaret Corwin 1679 (7 mo)

  Sarah Corwin 1680-1689 (9 years)

  Jonathan Corwin 1681-1682 (10 mo)

  George Corwin 1683-1717 (34 years)

  John Corwin 1684 (2 mo)

  Margaret Corwin 1685-1686 (3 mo)

  Anna Corwin 1687-1706 (18 years)

  Jonathan Corwin 1689 (3 mo)

  Harbert Corwin 1690-1691 (2 mo)

  I shook my head. “The family must truly have been cursed! Only two out of their ten children made it past the age of eighteen? And even those two died at ages 28 and 34?”

  Cassandra nodded. “Childhood deaths were common back then, but this is definitely unusual. Still, you can see Sarah and Anna right there. Sarah died at age nine, when young Anna was only three years old. Anna herself passed away with only two of her siblings still alive.”

  Gertrude pointed. “The Salem Witch Trials began in 1692. By that point the Corwins no longer had children survive to even childbirth. But it isn’t as if any of the witches cursed the judge’s family for his part in the trials. Nearly all of the death had happened before that point.”

  Prudence spoke up. “We know that the situation in Salem had been festering for years. The Witch Trials were the flashpoint – but I’ve studied the history of that period. Salem town and Salem village were fighting between themselves. Finally, in 1672, Salem Village got a church of its own and went looking for a minister. From 1670 to 1690, Salem Village had three different ministers and all three quit in disgust.”

  She pointed at the screen. “That’s the exact time period that Jonathan Corwin was one of the wealthiest men in Salem Town. Someone with a key reason to maintain the status quo. To not allow those pesky villagers to break off and take their resources and taxes with them.”

  Gertrude nodded. “And look! The second minister was George Burroughs. Even after he quit, the villagers were so grumpy with him that during the witch trials they accused him of being a witch! They hung him!”

  Marc’s brow creased. “Wait. Am I reading this right? So after those three ministers in a row quit, the congregation brought in Reverend Samuel Parris. He brought his wife, daughter, niece, and … is that Tituba? As in the Tituba who started the witch trials?”

  I nodded. “Technically, Tituba didn’t start the witch trials. The two girls did. The daughter, Betty, was nine. The niece, Abigail, was eleven. The two girls began having fits. They finally accused Tituba as being a witch. And it snowballed from there.”

  He crossed his arms. “So you’re saying the Salem Village members wanted a church of their own. They brought in three ministers in a row and antagonized the men so much that all three men left. Then they bring in a fourth – and suddenly that fourth man’s young charges launch a deadly hysteria?”

  Cassandra’s eyes shone with anger. “Jonathan Corwin must have had a hand in this all. He was one of the most important men in Salem. He created the environment with all this stress and tension. He lived high on his wealth while others around him suffered. Who knows how many people he mistreated. It could have been any one of them who cursed him and his family. And he could easily have been seeking revenge in return, with his lineage nearly wiped out, during those witch trials. He could have been condemning anyone who he felt had wronged him and his family.”

  A thought came to me. “We know that only two children survived to adulthood, out of the ten. Did either of those two children then have children of their own?”

  Cassandra clicked a few more buttons.

  “Well, the eldest was Elizabeth. She married James Lindell and had two girls – Elizabeth and Mary.”

  I shook my head. “Didn’t they have any imagination when it came to names?”

  She grinned. “Well, if you think that’s bad,
Elizabeth the younger then had a daughter. Who she named … Elizabeth.”

  I ran a hand through my hair. “And?”

  “No luck there. Elizabeth the youngest never had any children. And Mary, the aunt, never had any children either. That line wholly died out.”

  Marc said, “That still leaves George Corwin, the middle son. He also had two children. In his case, two boys. Samuel and George.”

  I was beginning to see why some families numbered their children.

  Cassandra continued, “Samuel seems to have died without any children. That only leaves us, in the entire initial stretch of ten children, with a single living grandchild, George, having children. Those were George, Mehitable, and Sarah. But from there, from that one line, it looks like we do have survivors.”

  We all stared at each other.

  I breathed in. “So what you’re saying are that Sarah and Anna are two of only four children of the Corwins who survived past infancy. If their sister Elizabeth and brother George ended up married with children of their own, maybe they didn’t get caught up as spirits. They had continued with their lives. But Sarah and Anna never got that far.”

  Cassandra was nodding. “And the six younger kids barely made it to eating solid food, if even that. So the chance of them getting trapped as spirits is slim.”

  Gertie’s face glowed with glowing understanding. “Sarah died first. She adored little Anna. So maybe she stuck around as sort of a guardian angel. To watch over her. And then the Salem Witch Trials began in 1692. Anna would have been … what … six years old at the time? One of the first things they asked Tituba during the trials is if she was responsible for the trouble being caused to the Corwin child. The records don’t mention which child – but it seems likely it would be Anna.”

  I thought of sweet Anna, living in Josephine’s house all those years. To imagine that she had lived through the witch trials. She had watched neighbors and relatives be accused and hung. Sarah would have been her guardian angel, trying to protect her from harm.

  Cassandra said, “I’ll get started on the descendants. It’ll take me a while, but maybe I can figure out who is still alive. That might be related to all of what is going on.”

  I nodded. In a world of curses, spirits, and Salem Witch Trial history which still resonated in our world today, it wasn’t that far-fetched to imagine.

  Marc looked over at me. “In the meantime, you must be starving. We hadn’t had anything to eat since …”

  My stomach rumbled, and I realized he was right. I’d had a late breakfast when I’d woken up, and then we’d been on the go ever since then. It was past dark now. I was completely exhausted.

  He nodded and took my hand. “C’mon. We’ll get supplies on the way home.”

  The thought warmed me. I turned to Gertie. “If Sarah does come home, please call us and let us know. We’ll do the same.”

  Gertie nodded, and then drew me into a hug. “Thank you for everything, Amber.”

  I smiled, then hugged Prudence and Cassandra. Another minute and Marc and I were heading out the door.

  Tunic Trollop was waiting outside the front door for us. Did the woman ever leave the porch? Her smile was bright. “Interested in dinner? I know this cozy waterfront restaurant. Just perfect for a quiet conversation. It’s the perfect night for it. Nearly a full moon.”

  Marc shook his head. “Maybe another time. Enjoy your book.”

  She smiled. “Oh, I will.”

  Her teeth nearly glittered.

  * * *

  Marc and I were just coming out of the market, a bag full of fresh veggies between us, when his phone rang. He picked it up. “Alex? Any news?”

  A barrage of sound deluged him, and he nodded to me to keep walking. We got to the car and headed back toward my apartment, with him nodding and making non-committal noises along the way. He didn’t hang up until we got to my door. “All right. Thanks for calling.”

  I looked over. “What was that all about?”

  We laid the vegetables out on the table and he began preparing the pans. “She and Roger just got the visits from the police. They know, now, that our mother was murdered. She’s baffled why someone would want to kill Josephine, furious that she could possibly be a suspect, and petrified of staying in the house alone overnight. Apparently she and Roger are going to go stay at his place instead.”

  I nodded. “I could understand that. It seems there is a murderer on the loose, and they’ve struck once there. We don’t know why, so we don’t know if they are going to strike again or not.”

  He chuckled. “Well, if they’re going to make a move against one of the descendants, we’ll see if they do that tonight. After all, I’ll be all alone in the house.”

  I stared at him in horror. “You’re going to set yourself up as bait?”

  He shrugged, adding in some olive oil. “Not on purpose. But Alex has given me an opportunity. I’ll be all alone in the house. Up until now either she’s had me there or Roger there. It might tell us something, if someone tries something.”

  “Or you might get hurt!”

  He smiled. “Nobody’s going to hurt me.”

  “You could stay here!”

  I blushed. I hadn’t quite meant for it to come out like that.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “What I mean is –”

  He chuckled. “I know what you mean. And I appreciate it. Really, I do. But you and Felix will be fine here, and it’ll give me a chance to poke around the house without Alex present. Maybe I’ll find something I missed before. Something that gives us that strand to tug on. To get another piece of the puzzle.”

  I sighed. “In some ways it seems like we’ve figured out so much. But in other ways, it’s still all so confusing. We have no idea who killed your mother or why. No idea where Sarah and Anna are.”

  “But we do know my mother was killed,” pointed out Marc, finishing up his sauté. “And think of all we’ve learned about Sarah and Anna’s background. Heck, when we find them, we’ll be able to tell them more about their own history than we probably know about our own.”

  I nodded. He was right. There were entire shelves in the local libraries dedicated to the Salem Witch Trials.

  He plated our food and brought the plates over to the table. I grabbed a bottle of wine and in short order had the two glasses poured out.

  I touched mine to his. “Sorry that they aren’t laser-engraved collector’s items.”

  He smiled. “They are perfect just the way they are. Like you.”

  I blushed, and time coalesced.

  We talked about Sarah. About Anna. We sometimes touched on what he knew about his sister and mother. About his own time growing up. But again and again we looped back around to Sarah and Anna.

  Where were the two sisters?

  Had they truly been taken?

  If so, why?

  And how were they related to Josephine’s death?

  At last the dishes were cleared and put away. Marc had his hand on the half-empty wine bottle. “Shall I pour us fresh glasses and we can continue this discussion in the living room?”

  I realized, suddenly, exactly who I needed to talk to.

  Who clearly held an important piece of this puzzle.

  I looked up at Marc. “I need you to trust me.”

  He stilled. His gaze held mine for a long moment.

  He said, “I trust you.”

  I nodded. “Then I need to go out alone for a while.”

  His gaze flicked to the kitchen clock. It was nearly ten p.m.

  He nodded. “You be safe.” He paused for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was low. “Maybe text me when you get home again? Just so I know you’re OK?”

  “Sure. Of course.”

  I stepped forward and gave him a gentle kiss.

  It was soft, tender, and yet somehow it reached into my very soul. The way his hands rested on my arms, it was as if I were wrapped in safety and could never be hurt.

  He was
my rock.

  At last he stepped away from me. He gave me one long, last look, and then he went to the door.

  He stepped through.

  He was gone.

  I waited until I heard the outer door of the apartment close before I pulled out my phone.

  Before I pushed the button.

  Bryane answered on the first ring. “Amber? What is it?”

  My throat went tight, but I said the words.

  “Free for drinks?”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I could have been seventeen. Bryane and I could have been out on a date. True, his face had a few more lines, and his shoulders had filled out, but it was those same bright blue eyes. The same twinkle, as he said along with me, “Tuna melt. Extra pickles.”

  He chuckled as the waitress took our menus. “Haven’t been here in a while. Brings back memories.”

  I looked around O’Neill’s. It’d always been a favorite of mine, growing up. My aunt had taken me here just about once a week. And then, when I’d started dating …

  I looked down at the table.

  Bryane put his hand over mine. “Amber, I need to tell you something.”

  I glanced up at him.

  He took in a deep breath. “I made a mistake.”

  I watched him closely. “What kind of a mistake?”

  He took a long drink of his beer. “The worst kind of mistake. I didn’t treat you the way you deserved.”

  I stared at him. Out of all the things I expected him to say, this was definitely not one of them.

  He gave a wry smile. “I was young. I was incredibly stupid. And I was arrogant. You and I got along so amazingly well. We could have finished each other’s sentences. And I thought, well, all women were like this. I could have this with any woman I wanted. And with the whole box of chocolates laid out for me at school, why should I hold back? So I gave in when Candy invited me to that party, and then the time Danielle ran into me at the beach –”

  I waved a hand. “I get the picture.” I took a long drink of my beer.