“Where is Matthew, Annie?” she finally asked me. “Do you know? I have waited so long. My loneliness has brought me such despair.”
“I do not know any Matthew,” I said, and much to my dismay she began to cry.
“Matthew is the one you call my son?” Michele said.
“Yes,” she told him.
“I have waited an eternity for you, Annie. I have waited for you and Matthew and Philippe. I have spent thirty-one chronological years here waiting.”
“Philippe?” I said.
“Yes, Philippe.” She took my other hand and looked deeply into my eyes. “Do you know what became of Meredith Mae?” she asked me.
“I have no memory of a Meredith Mae. I sense that I know you but I do not recall in what way. I do not recall anything.”
“You are Annabel Horton from Salem, Massachusetts. You were born to flesh in the seventeenth century. I have regressed Michele back to just before those horrid witch trials. I told him to ask you where Matthew was but you misunderstood and thought he was speaking his name to you. He could not see your face clearly then. Perhaps now that you are here, he will be able to materialize more completely in that century. I know that you will be named a witch and sentenced to hang for it. Michele must save you.”
“And if he cannot?” I asked.
“Our almighty souls return to ash. You are murdered at the tree. I die at the age of twenty-nine in 1724, and Matthew does not exist at all. None of it will matter to anyone, least of all to us.”
“And what is wrong with that?” I asked.
“We are written out of eternity and the devil remains in. We lose one another, and he loses nothing.”
I looked at Michele, but he was staring so intently at Elizabeth that he did not know I needed his reassurance.
“I do not understand,” I told her.
“The devil has many disciples. Urbain Grandier is one. He has many faces. He was crushed to death in the sixteenth century but he put a curse on those that killed him, and I am afraid, the curse still lives. It was Philippe who told me that in Salem while we worked the farm.”
“The curse?” I asked.
“Incest, rape,” she whispered. “And murder. His passions manifest in those that see him. The Ursuline nun who turned him into Cardinal Richelieu was spared the wrath, they say. Somehow, you are connected to her, but I do not know how.”
Whatever trance Elizabeth had over Michele was broken and he came to my side.
“I must send you back, Michele,” she told him as he seated himself beside me. “I think you will be able to shatter the barriers, now that she is here. There is divine magic in her presence. You will soon see it.”
“What do you want me to do?” he asked.
“You will leave her handwritten letters. Perhaps they will rattle her memory.”
Michele seemed shocked. “Letters that I write in this century? I am to leave them in the seventeenth century? How can I do that?”
“Trust that all time is now and that it is only a barrier to cross within.”
He held my hand more tightly. “What should I say to her?” he asked.
“Tell her that you will protect her from dying. Let her know you are not of her dimension but here now, in May of 1980. Perhaps, if she knows that you are here she will remember all that comes before and after.”
“Before and after?” He laughed. “How can that be if there is no order to time?”
“The moment is alive and therefore alterable,” she said. “And order was imposed. Perhaps, our logic required it.”
“But why, Elizabeth?” he asked. “She is here now, and safe. Why must I go back to a time that wants her blood?”
“If we do not save her, Ann Arlin Peckham will regain her flesh and the soul of Annabel Horton will find God.”
“What’s wrong with that?” he asked.
“Your children will not be born, and I will never look upon the face of my beloved Matthew. My soul will carry nothing but misery to God’s threshold.”
“I cannot mourn the children I don’t know,” he said.
“I am told that the bloodline on her mother’s side has willed her the power to destroy the evil seed. You are the mate of Annabel Horton, and though you are a limited witch, you will learn to master your craft, as I have. I need you to do that. I must find Matthew, and Urbain Grandier must find hell.”
“For God’s sake, what do you want me to do?”
“Sit here and write to your beloved. Do not say too much, for I do not want her father to become suspicious of the letters and question them. There is such great paranoia in her village, even within families. Simply say that you will not let any harm come to her.”
Michele suddenly put his arms around me.
“Can I call her my wife?” He winked. “After all, we have children together, right?”
“Yes, call her your wife,” Elizabeth told him and smiled.
As for me, I blushed so deeply that I searched for a fan in my dress pocket. Elizabeth knew instinctively what I searched for and made me one of paper. What an unusual world. I might not have remembered my name but I knew with an exasperated certainty when I needed my fan.
Chapter Thirty-Two
After the letters were written, Elizabeth took us into a small room behind her kitchen. It was dark except for candles, many candles that burned and flickered against the wall. Music came from somewhere, though for the life of me I could not figure out where. On the floor was an asymmetrical pattern, a maze that seemed to go nowhere.
“Take off your shoes, Annie,” she said.
I sat on the floor and unlaced the soft shoes on my feet. I was dressed in a skirt that fell to my ankles, like Elizabeth’s, but it was not as bright. My short white blouse had puffy sleeves. I did not like the clothes I wore but much to my chagrin, I found them comfortable.
“Now, I want you to clear your mind and walk the maze. Think of nothing,” Elizabeth told me.
“All right,” I whispered.
Michele was to follow behind me. He had one of the letters in his back pocket. The letter was short and signed only with the letter M. There were four other letters placed in the center of the maze. Elizabeth thought it best not to confuse the girl Annabel with a name she did not know so a simple M as signature was agreed upon by all of us.
* * * *
I followed the thick white line until I lost track of all time. I could not say how long I chanted along to the music and followed the maze. I was mesmerized by the buzz of my own voice. Elizabeth finally led me out of the room with the labyrinth and put me on the floor, inside of a circle. Michele lay on the floor beside me. His hands were at his side and in the palm of his right hand, which was turned up, Elizabeth had placed the first letter. I listened to Elizabeth’s voice as she chanted and spoke in low, whispery tones. I could barely make out the words she spoke. Perhaps, they were not words, but merely sounds that resembled a language I could not discern.
“Where are you now, Michele?” I finally heard her ask.
“I am in a room. I can see it clearly,” he whispered.
“Is anyone in the room?” she whispered back.
“No,” he said, and though I could not see him I knew that he shook his head. How strange that I know that.
“Can you touch anything in the room?” I heard Elizabeth ask Michele.
It was a long time before he answered.
“Yes. I can touch the table,” he told her.
“Can you put the letter on the table?” she then asked him.
“I don’t know,” he answered.
“Try,” she commanded.
It was at that very moment that I was able to see the room as well. I could see that it was sparse but comfortable. The light was dim and shone only from the moon. Suddenly, I noticed a man. He was at the table. I could not see him clearly but I knew he was terribly tall.
“Matthew,” I found myself whisper.
“Put the letter on the table,” Elizabeth said.
>
“I can’t,” he uttered.
“Matthew,” I whispered again.
“Put the letter down on the table,” Elizabeth commanded forcefully.
Suddenly, I felt the letter in my hand but before I could enfold it I felt it disappear. Just as quickly as I had felt it there, it was gone!
“Good,” Elizabeth said to Michele, “You have done it.”
“I can see her reading it,” he said.
“She is in the room?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes. It appears to be the following morning and the girl Annabel is in the room.”
“Can she see you?”
“No.”
“To my wife,” I read aloud, “I will protect you.”
I could actually see and read the letter though I knew that I was still lying on the floor in Elizabeth’s living room.
“She is standing in the sunlight by the window and has put the letter in her apron pocket. Her eyes are very green and her hair has such golden hues. She looks like an angel,” he said.
“Papa,” I called.
“A man has entered,” Michele said. “He is older, and he wears heavy breeches.”
“Who has left this letter?” I found myself speaking to the man, inquiring aloud.
“What does the man look like?” Elizabeth asked Michele.
Michele laughed. “A big, kindly man.”
“It is Joshua,” Elizabeth said softly.
“He is saying, ‘No, daughter. I know nothing of any letters. Perhaps it is Daniel, from across the road, come calling?’”
I answered in a loud voice. “Oh, no Papa, certainly it is not Daniel.”
I could not help anything I was saying, or doing and still remained on my back in a deep trance on the floor.
“The man has walked out,” Michele said. “The girl is staring out the window and holding the letter to her heart.”
“Matthew,” I said again.
I heard Elizabeth sigh. “She thinks the letters are from Matthew.”
“I tried to touch her hair but she can’t see me,” Michele said.
“Place the other four letters about the house,” Elizabeth told him as she placed the other letters in his hand. I could see what Elizabeth was doing though my eyes were closed.
“Where shall I put them?” he asked her.
“Where are you standing now?” she whispered.
“I’m in the kitchen. It is very warm and there’s a large kettle on the fire.”
“Can you walk through the house, perhaps back to the room you were just in?” Elizabeth said to him.
I knew again that he had nodded though my eyes remained closed. I could see myself standing in the sun. I could see the sea in the distance and a very green field. It was an odd sensation, I was there and yet I was not. I could clearly see that I was wearing a plain dress and something tight on my head.
“I have placed another letter under the candle holder and another on top of a shelf. The other two have been left on a small table by the stairs,” he said.
“Come back, Michele,” Elizabeth told him. “We will try again in a few days to speak to her directly.”
“Can I say good-bye to her? She is standing in the sunlight and seems to be daydreaming,” Michele asked.
“Quickly.”
I felt his lips so briefly and blushed.
“I love you,” I heard him whisper as his lips touched my ear.
After just a moment, I knew that Michele had sat up straight and looked over at where I was lying. I could feel the tingle of his breath though he was nowhere near me. I knew he looked at me, though my eyes were still closed.
“Should we send Annabel into the seventeenth century now, Elizabeth? Can we help her?”
“I do not know, but it is time to find out,” she answered and held out her hand to me as I opened my eyes.
* * * *
I felt her flesh in my palm and felt terribly dizzy. I drifted into a place in space, simply drifted from one dimension into another. I could see color and feel the pressure of Elizabeth’s hand fade away in my own.
After only a moment, I found myself in a wagon beside a young man who seemed familiar. I was not physically there, and yet it felt as if I were, for everything was so clear. The man and I were in a carriage singing a song about yellow birds, very quietly, for we are not allowed to sing. It is very enjoyable to me and I start to laugh. Soon, I recognize the man as my brother, James.
“It is hot,” I hear myself saying this to Elizabeth from somewhere outside of my trance. “The sun burns brightly on my arm. I can feel the heat. I can smell the horses, see the brown backside of Lucas, yes, Lucas. That is what we call the horse.”
I was excited now for I knew the people around me.
“What else?” I heard Elizabeth ask as if from very far away.
I looked around. I could see myself behind the lids of my eyes.
“She seems to have her memory back,” Elizabeth whispered excitedly to Michele. Suddenly, I felt Michele take my other hand.
“There is a girl staring at me from behind a hat,” I told them. “There is a malicious smile on her face. She is familiar to me. Yes! I know her as Ann Putnam.”
“This must be right before her accusation against you!” I heard Elizabeth whisper. Her voice sounded muffled and seemed to come to me through a long tunnel.
“How close is Ann Putnam to you?” she asked.
“She is on the ground beside our carriage,” I told her.
“Does she speak to you?”
“No, not to me but to my brother, James.”
“What does she say?”
“‘Brother Horton, your sister has such bright eyes. They are like emeralds.’”
“Do not go there, Annie.” I felt Elizabeth’s hand in my own once again. “Just tell me what you see but do not let your soul go there too completely.”
“My brother James is laughing,” I said, as I felt the wind on me and heard the birds. “He has jumped from the cart and he is holding out his hand to me.”
“Careful, Annie. Do not speak to her,” Elizabeth told me but I could not stop my words.
“Good morning, Sister Putnam,” I uttered as I watched myself step to the ground.
“Annie, avoid her, look away!” Elizabeth called to me.
“Young Peter Hemming is running over to us,” I said aloud, forcing myself to narrate and not fall too deeply into this space. “He has been standing on the other side of the road. He has a broad smile and his hair falls to his eyes. My brother turns to me and whispers, ‘See how he likes you,’ and he grins broadly at me.”
“What then, Annie? You look frightened.”
Elizabeth clasps my hand more tightly as I watch my brother lift grain into the carriage. I can feel my face turn pink. I know Peter is the only boy with the courage to flirt with me.
“The prettiest girl in the county has now graced our town,” Peter Hemming has said.
I suddenly went very quiet and I could hear, as if from a great distance, Elizabeth ask, “What then, Annie?”
“The girl, Ann Putnam, throws back her head and laughs loudly. ‘Why thank you, Brother Hemming.’ She smiles, but it is to me he turns. ‘May I walk your sister to the shade, Brother James?’ I am smiling at him as my brother nods. ‘If you will help me with the grain first, Peter, I would appreciate it,’” he says.
“What happens then, Annie?”
Elizabeth’s voice seems to have broken up, and I know that if I do not struggle I might lose her altogether.
“We watch as he helps my brother with the grain. The girl glares at me as she speaks. When we have nearly loaded the carriage, and my brother has gone to pay our bill, Peter offers me his arm and we walk to the tree near the carriage station. The girl, Ann Putnam, walks with us and takes Peter’s other hand, though it is only I that he wishes to be with. I know this, for he has whispered it in my ear, and it makes me uncomfortable. He sits me down on an old stone bench. A large tree shades the bench. T
here is only room for two. ‘Your father is calling you, Ann,’ he says to her as he sits beside me. The girl leans her head in toward his and whispers ‘She has the devil’s eyes. I would not sit too close.’ I feel him squeeze my hand as she runs off. ‘Be careful,’ he says as he turns to me. ‘For she is under her father’s spell and surely the only witch that I know of.’”
“What then, Annie?” Elizabeth whispered, and I felt her hand on mine but I started to cry so much that I could not stop. I was not only crying but soon I began to scream.
“It is all changing now. I see the tree. We are on Gallows Hill, oh, Lord, help me!”
“Annie,” she cried out. “Come back! Annie, please return now. You are too terribly frightened.”
“They have accused me! They have accused me!” I cried.
“No!” I hear Michele’s call but I have fallen into darkness.
“Annie!” Elizabeth’s voice was stern and commanding. “Come back!”
But I could not return. I seemed to have no power to return. From far away I heard her call again.
“Michele, oh Michele, where are you? Oh dear. Oh dear. Michele? Michele? Please, come back. I think it is too soon for you to go to her.”
Her cries were suddenly muffled and I struggled to leave, to vanish from this place and return to her. But I could not move. I was lost in this vision. I was being led to the tree. I was so scared that I could feel myself soil my dress. There were people all around me. I knew my eyes were very large and my breath came out of my chest in rapid thrusts. Suddenly, there was a man before me. He placed a blindfold over my eyes and whispered close in my ear. Curls graced his face and his skin was the color of a cocoa bean. His presence calmed me, somewhat, and his vision was seared in my brain before blackness covered me.
“Count to three, then turn your head sharp, to the right! Do it girl and be spared!” he commanded in a fierce whisper.
Annabel Horton, Lost Witch of Salem Page 24