My mouth slipped open. “Then ’tis true?” I couldn’t believe it. “As a witch?”
Ann shook her head. “As a Quaker.”
No one spoke as we absorbed this information.
“Our mother was Quaker?” Hope whispered in shock.
The Puritans did not tolerate other religions in the Bay Colony—but they had a special hatred for Quakers. The Quakers, like the Pilgrims, had broken away from the Church of England and promoted democracy among its people—whereas the Puritans hadn’t broken away. They were still part of the Church of England, attempting to purify it from afar. Unlike the Pilgrims, the Quakers were pacifists and believed that God existed in each person. They also practiced spiritual equality between men and women, allowing women a voice in the church. This enraged the Puritan elders. At one time, a person could be sentenced to death for giving a Quaker directions from one town to the next. Other religions were banned from Massachusetts—and stayed banned. The Quakers refused to leave, however, even under penalty of death. It was no longer legal to kill them for their faith, but they were still hated.
“Yes, your mother was Quaker,” Ann said. “And she was warned twice by the authorities to stop preaching. She was arrested on both occasions. When she met your father, they were so in love, she thought she could abandon her faith—and her family—and follow the Puritans. She changed her name so no one would connect her to her former life. That was when I met her. They lived in Boston when you were born, and no one knew her real identity.
“She tried to conform to the Puritan faith, but her conscience got the better of her. When you were only six months old, shebegan to preach under her old name again. Your father wanted to move her out of Boston and bought the land here in Salem Village to build the ordinary. But she refused to go with him and would not let him take you. This time, when they arrested her, they sentenced her to death by hanging. It was within their legal rights at the time. She pleaded for your father to save her—but he had started to build this establishment and did not want her crimes to follow him. He was angry that she had left the Puritan faith, and he knew that if he aligned himself with her beliefs, he would face ruin.”
“So he let her hang?” I breathed in disgust and disbelief.
Ann nodded. “He went to Boston to retrieve you from the prison, but he refused to speak to her. He came back here and told everyone that she had died in childbirth and that you had been staying with family until he could get the ordinary built. I begged him to save her, but he threatened me for interfering. I knew if he could let his own wife die, he could do the same to me.”
We were silent again as the information seeped into our hearts and minds.
Father had let our mother die without a fight, afraid people would learn that she was his wife—and he hadn’t even said good-bye to her.
“No wonder he hath never wanted us to speak of her,” Hope said.
“He hath been living with the guilt his whole life,” I whispered.
“Ifhe feels guilt.” Hope shook her head. “I doubt it.”
“Did her family live in Boston?” Isaac asked Ann.
“If I remember correctly,” Ann said, “Tacy was from the town of Sandwich. There is a large Quaker colony there.”
“Thankfully, it’s no longer legal to hang a Quaker,” Isaac assured us.
“No,” I agreed, “but ’tis legal to hang a witch, and some Quakers are accused of witchcraft as a means to destroy them.”
“Do you think her family still lives in Sandwich?” Isaac asked Ann.
“I cannot say. Their name was Howlett, I remember that much. I never spoke to Tacy’s family. I only knew what she told me.”
“She must have trusted you,” I said. “Thank you for being a friend to her.”
Ann’s smile was weary, but she nodded. “Tacy was a special woman, and I’m blessed to have called her a friend. I still miss her.”
“I do, too,” I admitted, even though I didn’t have any memories of her.
“Is there anything else you can remember?” Hope asked.
“I’m afraid that’s all I know about her.” Ann sighed. “I wish I knew more.”
“Thank you for coming to us,” I said. “It gives me hope that mayhap we can find her family and learn more about her.”
“Sandwich is over eighty miles away.” Hope frowned. “How will we learn if her family is still living there?”
“Let me help,” Isaac offered. “After planting season, I can make a trip there on your behalf.”
“You don’t need to take time out of your busy life to help us,” I said to Isaac. “You’ve already done so much.”
“I want to help.” His voice was serious. “I hope you’ll let me.”
