by Holly Kelly
“Just bring yourself, and we will be eating at six.”
“I will be there. Thank you for the inviting me.”
Minutes later, Rebekah left and Hope’s fretting began.
* * * * *
Hope approached Rebekah’s house, and her heart leapt into her chest. Glancing down at the bag hanging by a strap slung over her shoulder, she whispered. “The minister and his wife are there. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you.”
“It’s too late to turn back now,” Conall said. “Just keep me close enough to hear you.”
“Alright.”
“They won’t think anything of it. Who would search through a bag of fabric and needle work?”
“Right,” Hope said. He was absolutely correct. Still, her heart pounded as fear crept into it.
“Now don’t say another word to me,” Conall said, “or they’ll think you’re crazy.”
Hope kept her mouth shut until Rebekah raised her eyes to greet her and said, “Hope! I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Hello, Rebekah,” Hope answered.
Rebekah looked at Hope’s bag. “Are you planning on staying? The horseman hasn’t been giving you trouble, has he?”
Hope shook her head as she attempted to hold back her shock. “No, I was just working on some needle work down by the river and then came straight here.”
“The horseman?” The minister’s curt voice cut in, and he glared at her. “Why should a proper churchgoer be worried about the horseman?”
“Oh, shush,” Rebekah said. “I am just joking. Everyone with half a brain knows the horseman is not real. It’s an old wives-tale that has been perpetuated by unfortunate happenings. A man with no head riding about Sleepy Hollow at night? It’s ludicrous.”
Two weeks ago, Hope would have agreed wholeheartedly. She could not fault Rebekah’s reasoning.
“It’s Satan’s work,” the minister said.
“And what does Satan have to gain from such a thing?” Rebekah said. “A story like that puts the fear of God in people. It seems to me that is counterproductive to Satan’s work.”
“But if the devil is gathering souls . . .” the minister’s wife said.
“Then he should be gathering the souls of the wicked,” Hope could not help but interject. “From what I have heard about Mr. Crane, he was a good man who cared very much for the children he taught.”
“I am sorry,” Rebekah said. “Where are my manners? Hope, this is Pastor Goodman and his wife—Mrs. Goodman, my husband’s sister.”
“Yes, I came to their service on Sunday,” Hope said. “It’s nice to meet you, Pastor Goodman, Mrs. Goodman.” She put out her hand and shook the hand of both the minister and his wife. What luck. The two people most likely to accuse her of witchcraft were Rebekah’s relatives.
Hope held the bag tight as she kneaded the fabric in her grip. Looking up, she was surprised to see Dr. Porter walking up the pathway.
“Oh,” Rebekah whispered, “I forgot to tell you Dr. Porter is coming to dinner, too. I thought you might want to get to know him better.”
Hope chuckled. “Are you playing matchmaker?”
“I admit nothing.” Rebekah smiled with a glint in her eye.
“Hello, ladies,” Dr. Porter said. His eyes lingered on Hope. “Hello, Mrs. Jones.”
“We are not in school, Dr. Porter, call me Hope.”
“All right, Hope. But then you can show me the same courtesy and call me Alden.”
Hope nodded and smiled. “Alright, Alden.”
When his eyes lingered on hers, she felt heat rise in her cheeks. He seemed interested in her. She might have considered the possibility of him courting her if her life wasn't completely consumed by the elf in her bag and the danger surrounding him.
A handsome man with strong features approached.
“Hope,” Rebekah said, “this is my husband, Victor.”
Hope nodded to him. “It’s nice to meet you, sir. And I would like thank you for allowing me to rent your cabin in Sleepy Hollow.”
“You are living in Sleepy Hollow?” the minister fairly shouted the question as he shot a look at her. He walked forward and stopped just a few feet from her with a sour look on his face.
Oh, great! She’d probably just been branded a wicked woman.
“At my suggestion,” Rebekah said. “If you are going to call anyone evil for her place of residence, it’ll have to be me.” She shot a pointed look at the minister.
“You are skating on thin ice, Rebekah. Lucifer would only be too happy to get you in his clutches.”
“He’d have to go through me,” Victor snapped as he glared at the minister.
Pastor Goodman shook his head. “You are both in danger of hell fire.”
“And you are in danger of being thrown off my property,” Victor bellowed and then he turned to his sibling. “I am sorry, sister, but I cannot allow anyone to defame my wife’s character.”
“And I must stand with my husband,” she said as she narrowed her eyes. “Do not test my loyalties, brother. You should not have allowed your wife to rent out the cabin in Sleepy Hollow. As I have said before, the place has the mark of the devil.” Her eyes darted to Hope.
Hope felt a jolt at her glare. There was something sinister in her eyes. No, she had to be mistaken. This was a minister’s wife. Still, this was the second time she felt uneasy under her gaze.
“Now if we can put aside our differences,” Rebekah said. “Agnes’s made a lovely meal. I would hate to see it go to waste.”
At those words, Agnes’s laughter filtered in, and she stepped into sight. Hope gasped when she saw who was with her.
“Mr. Henry?”
His smiling eyes raised to meet hers. “In the flesh.”
“I thought you had returned to Williamsburg?”
“I did. Long enough to sell my lands and holdings and return here.”
Holdings? Hope had not guessed that a man such as Mr. Henry would have investments. How much money did the old man have? Even as the thought crossed her mind, she had a twinge of guilt. She’d prided herself on not judging others, but here she had judged Mr. Henry.
“But how could you leave?” Hope said. “You’ve lived there for forty years.”
“And I would say that was plenty long. I much prefer the scenery in Tarrytown.” He locked his eyes with Agnes’s as he spoke.
Agnes blushed. Hope had never seen a woman of that age blush before.
Rebekah took Hope by the arm and said, “I have been looking forward to this all day.”
Hope smiled and walked them through the dining room door. The smell of roasted turkey greeted their entry and caused Hope to salivate. It was too bad Conall could not eat. It would be horrible to not be able to taste a morsel of food in eight years! Hope’s heart ached for him. Sometimes she forgot how awful his state really was. She’d find a way to break his curse if it was the last thing she’d do.
Hope placed Conall’s bag carefully out of the way beside the arched entryway to the dining room, and they all sat down. Dr. Porter took the seat to her right. When Hope looked up to his face, she was surprised to see him watching her. Hope turned her eyes down to examine the flower pattern on her plate.
“Pastor Goodman,” Rebekah said. “Would you mind saying grace?”
“I am always happy to speak to my Lord,” he said, and reached out to take the hands of Victor and his wife.
Hope took Rebekah’s hand and then Dr. Porter’s. When they were all holding hands, Pastor Goodman’s prayer began. It was not like any prayer she’d ever heard said at a table. He spoke a good ten minutes—giving a short thanks for the food, and then a long list of needed protection from Satan and his minions, and then an even longer list of thankfulness for him and his wife being more righteous than all those around them. And then even more asking for all others to see the errors of their ways and repent before Lucifer dragged them down to hell. He seriously thought he and his wife were the only righteous people in town? B
y the close of the minister’s prayer, Hope had lost her appetite. Still, she forced herself to eat. It wasn’t Rebekah’s fault her brother-in-law was such a pompous, self-righteous man.
They ate in silence for the next few minutes. It seemed the minister’s words had rendered them all speechless. Hope felt sorry for Rebekah. She had worked hard to put together this event. Hope lifted the bite of turkey to her mouth and moaned at the moist, flavor-filled morsel. “This is really good, Agnes.”
“Don’t thank me,” Agnes said. “I may have made all the fixings, but Victor’s the one who smoked the turkey. He’s simply brilliant at smoking meat.”
Having broken the ice for conversation, the discomfort eased, and they made small talk. The minister and his wife spoke very little—which was a good thing, in Hope’s opinion.
“How are liking your job?” Dr. Porter asked.
“I love it. But then, I have always loved teaching.”
“I am glad you like it,” he said. “I do have to apologize for the mayor’s behavior, though I must say you handled him very well.”
Hope shook her head. “I am afraid my emotions got the better of me.”
“Regardless, the mayor is going to think twice about trying to fire you. The repercussions could be dire for him. You make a compelling argument for your methods. Have you always given the children a choice in what they’d like to learn?”
“Of course. It helps the learning all around if they feel they have a say. And it gives them something to be excited about every time they come to school.”
“That makes sense. By the way, I never did hear where exactly you taught before.”
“Oh, um,” Hope considered her words. If she lied and got caught in the lie, not only would she be sinning, she just might lose her job. Besides, what harm could it do to tell the truth?
What harm, indeed. Being hanged definitely falls under the category of harm.
But what were the chances that Dr. Porter would cross paths with Eli? Dr. Porter raised an eyebrow.
“Williamsburg,” she said hastily.
“Oh,” he said. “I have never been to Williamsburg. Do you have family there?”
Hope shook her head. “I was an only child when my mother passed away, and my father died in the war for independence. I have no other close family.”
“I am sorry.”
“It’s fine. I have got good friends.”
Dr. Porter looked at Rebekah. “Yes, you do.”
As the night drew to a close, Hope began to worry about her travel back home. It was about two miles to the cabin. She would be alone on the road, and it was now well past dark.
Rebekah appeased her fears when she said, “Victor would like to give Hope a ride home. A lone woman should not be walking the roads of Tarrytown at night.”
The minister’s wife spoke up. “He doesn’t need to put himself out, Rebekah. We’ll take her home.”
Hope was horrified over the suggestion. “I can walk. It’s not an overly far journey.”
“Oh, nonsense,” Rebekah said.
“I would be happy to take her,” Mr. Henry said. “The minister and his wife don’t need to trouble themselves. Besides, I have some things I need to discuss with her.”
“I would be grateful for your assistance, Mr. Henry.”
“Then it’s settled,” Rebekah said.
Dr. Porter followed her as she got her bag. “I wish I would have brought my carriage. I would be happy to take you home myself. It would give me an excuse to continue our conversation.”
“Yes, well. I appreciate your willingness.”
“That looks heavy for a sewing bag,” Mrs. Goodman said, causing Hope’s heart to pound.
“I am also an avid reader,” Hope said, “and books are rather heavy.” That was a clever thing to say, and it wasn’t exactly a lie.
“So, they are,” she said, frowning.
Minutes later, she and Mr. Henry were on their way.
“I am so glad you decided to stay,” Hope said. “Agnes did not have anything to do with that decision, did she?”
“Of course not,” Mr. Henry said. “I don’t discuss my financial affairs with women.”
“That is not what I mean, and you know it.”
“She is a handsome woman, don’t you think?” he asked.
“Yes, she is.”
“You don’t think I am too old for courting, do you?”
Hope held back a smile. “Of course not! You are a fine man yourself. She’d be lucky to snatch up a man like you.”
“Oh, now, don’t be overdoing it, lassie. I am a crotchety old man.”
“I don’t think that is how Agnes sees you. She seems quite taken with you.”
“You think her affections are genuine? I thought perhaps she was too kind-hearted to break an old man’s heart.”
“No. She’s over the moon for you.”
A warm smile broke out over Mr. Henry’s face as his eyes lit up. He shook his head and cleared his throat. “Enough about me, how are you doing, lass? I must say I have been hearing tales that concern me about your wellbeing. Are you sure you are safe living where you are?”
“I am fine. Really, I am.”
“You haven’t seen anything strange there?”
Hope did not know how to answer. She did not want to worry Mr. Henry, but it would be an outright lie to say she hadn’t seen anything strange. Instead she settled on saying, “I am fine, Mr. Henry. The cabin is sturdy, and I feel perfectly safe there.”
Mr. Henry frowned but nodded his head. “I see what you mean.”
Hope looked up. The light of the carriage lantern fell on her cabin as it came into view.
“Even in the darkness,” Mr. Henry said, “I can see the craftmanship that went into it. But,” he turned to her, “if you have any trouble, any trouble at all, you let me know.”
Hope nodded her head. “I will, but truly, there is nothing to worry about.”
“I certainly hope there isn’t.”
Hope climbed out of the wagon, and Mr. Henry handed her the bag.
“Them books are heavy,” he said, and Hope felt her face heat. Hopefully it was too dark for Mr. Henry to see and suspect something was amiss.
“Yes, they are,” Hope responded. “Thank you for the ride. You really are a dear.”
“Don’t mention it, missy. You just take care of yourself.”
“I will.”
Mr. Henry waited until she was inside before he pulled away.
Hope latched the door, lay the bag on the bed, and sank down beside it, exhausted. Thank heavens the night was over.
“Hope,” Conall’s voice shouted from inside the sack. She lifted the flap. “We have a problem.”
Chapter 15
“The pastor’s wife is your witch?” Hope’s heart pounded in her chest.
“She’s not my witch,” he sneered. “But yes, she’s the wicked, black-hearted, whore of the devil that cut off my head. I’d recognize her voice anywhere. And she’s probably on her way, if she’s not already here. Now I need you to do exactly what I say and do it quickly.”
Hope nodded. “What should I do?”
“You need to put a line of salt at the doors and windows. Make sure it’s a continuous, unbroken line.”
“Salt’s expensive,” she said, wondering why he would have her do such a thing.
“It also repels witches.”
“Oh, alright. Really?” She sat him down on the bed and retrieved the salt. Thank heavens she had bought enough to get her through the season. She put an unbroken line at the door and across each window sill.
She came back to him. “I did what you said. Is there anything else I can do?”
“Do you have any rosemary?”
“There’s a rosemary bush outside.”
“That is no good.”
“But I can be out and in in just a moment.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“But if it means protecting you—”
&nbs
p; “If you think this is about me, you are wrong. I am not a good man. I deserve what I got. You, Hope, are nothing like me. Hell, you are the most selfless, saintly woman I have ever met. And now you are the target of a witch’s wrath. If something were to happen to you because of me . . .” His expression pained her. “I have been selfish and self-serving. You shouldn’t be risking your safety for the likes of me.”
“If I don’t protect you,” Hope said, her chest constricting, “who will?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does!”
“You don’t understand,” Conall said. “When I met Lavinia, I behaved terribly. I was cruel to her, heartless. That is who I am. I have always only looked out for myself. What happened after was nothing less than what I deserved for all the terrible things I have done in my long life. My own brother banished me here, and now I have put you in danger, even risked your life. Time and time again, you’ve risked everything for me. And I have let you.”
He sat silent for several long moments. “But no more. Your life is worth more than the life of someone like me. And I will not put you in danger again.”
“That is quite the confession,” Hope said. “You almost sound repentant.”
“Stop. Just stop right there. I am not going to convert and become a Christian. I am a wicked man, and that is all there is to it. Nothing can change that. But for once in his life, this wicked man has decided to do the right thing. And you are going to do everything I say, and do it exactly as I say it.”
“Oh, really? And what do you expect me to do?”
“You’ll need to leave.”
“Leave the cabin?”
“No. Leave Tarrytown. But not tonight. It’s not safe.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“The same thing I did before you came. I am going to await my fate.”
“Well, that plan is all well and good, but you are forgetting one thing.”
“And what is that?”
“You, my pompous, overbearing elf, cannot tell me what to do. I would never leave you at the mercy of a wicked witch, and I am afraid you are just going to have to accept the fact that you cannot stop me from—”