Revulsion filled my stomach, and for the first time in my life, I could not keep quiet. “Susannah is younger than us. You cannot expect us to treat her like our mother. We had a mother—do you not think of her today?” She was all I could think about, knowing what Isaac and I had planned.
A flicker of emotion passed through Father’s brown eyes—and for a moment, I could see the depth of his pain. He’d never given any indication that he loved our mother or that he missed her. It was almost as if she hadn’t existed. Yet now I wondered.
“Do I think of her?” he asked, his voice low. “Not a day goes by that I do not think of her. Butthinkingwill not change anything. She is gone, and life hath moved on. Today I am choosing a new wife, something that is long overdue. If you do not like the arrangement, you may find yourself a husband and move on yourself.”
Hope crossed her arms. “’Tis fine for you to say now when you are about to replace us. You haven’t once encouraged us to marry before.”
I wanted to roll my eyes at Hope’s impertinence. I had encouraged Father to finally speak of Mother for the first time—and all she could focus on was her anger at him.
He instantly shuttered his emotions and glared at Hope. “I will do as I see fit,” he said as he began to walk again, “and I will not answer to you.”
I could think of nothing now but our mother. Could Ann Pudeator finally answer the questions that had been burning in my chest for two decades? The witch hysteria was growing, and I could no longer wait.
As an investigative journalist, I wanted answers. As a sister, I needed them soon.
It took everything I possessed to keep my face free of emotion as Hope and I served the wedding meal later that afternoon. Susannah was a radiant bride, sitting next to Father, her friends and family nearby. It seemed like the entire Putnam clan had shown up for the celebration; even the afflicted Ann Putnam was in surprisingly good spirits despite all that she had endured the past few weeks. Reverend Parris and his wife were also in attendance, though they had sent their daughter, Betty, to stay with a friend in Salem Towne after Tituba and the others were questioned.
Neither Hope nor I were given time to sit and enjoy the meal we had prepared, though I wouldn’t have wanted to join the festivities. There was no joy in the occasion for me, and I couldn’t celebrate my father’s decision to marry Susannah.
Thankfully, the meal didn’t last long, since the town meeting was set to begin at two. Father would not attend the meeting. Instead, he and Susannah were going on a wedding trip to Boston for a few days, where she would purchase items befitting a new bride—a luxury not every bride was afforded.
Their absence would give me time to visit with Ann Pudeator.
As the last of the guests were leaving, Hope and I brought a stack of dishes into the kitchen to begin the arduous task of cleaning up the wedding meal.
The door opened and Susannah appeared, wearing her fine wool gown. I couldn’t deny she was beautiful, as were most of the Putnams. She carried herself with the confidence born of entitlement and excess—something that was hard to come by in Salem Village.
Hope and I looked up. I held my breath, unsure what Susannah would say. Had she come to thank us for the meal? Ask us what her duties would be now that she was the mistress of the ordinary? Tell us that she and Father were leaving for Boston?
Or make another insinuation about our mother?
“My things have been brought up to my room, and I expect them to be unpacked by the time I return from Boston.”
She was about to leave the kitchen when Hope spoke.
“I’m not touching your things. If you want them unpacked, you can do it yourself when you return.”
A steely smile thinned Susannah’s mouth. “Your father told me you would be difficult to manage. But it doth not concern me. I have had a lot of practice disciplining servants.”
“I’m not your servant,” Hope replied, her smile full of just as much venom as Susannah’s.
Susannah lifted an eyebrow. “As the mistress of this establishment, I will have my way. As your father’s wife, I will have his ear, both day”—she let the word drag out—“and night. Do not underestimate me. You will not like what you find.”
With those portending words, she slipped out of the kitchen, letting the door slam behind her.
Hope shook her head, her mouth twisted in a mocking smile. “If she thinks—”
“You would do best to bide your time, sister.”
“Bide my time?” Hope scoffed. “Say the word, and we can be done with this place.”
Thankfully Leah had gone out to fetch water and had not returned, so I said, “You know the cost.”
“Hang the cost.” Hope slammed a stack of plates onto the table. “This is ludicrous, Grace. Let us leave.”
I didn’t want to argue about this again, so I didn’t say another word.
The truth was, Hope didn’t need my approval. If she wanted to leave Salem, she could find something to change in history and forfeit this path without my help. I would remain here and be in 1912, as well, even if she was just in 1912.
