He jumped down and in one fluid motion swept his cloak off his shoulders and settled it around mine. It was warm and smelled of him. “You will catch your death.”
“I care not.”
“The way you speak sometimes,” he said as he tied his cloak about me, his work-roughened hands gentle and tender.
“Why have you come?”
“I went to the ordinary, and Grace told me you have been walking here every day.” Sadness mingled with his anger—an anger that was not directed at me. “I’ve heard the verdict.”
Shaking my head, I sniffed at my tears. “How can my father allow this to happen to Rachel and Ann? They are innocent.”
“They’re all innocent.” He glanced up the street, then put his hand on the small of my back and led me to the wagon. “This madness must stop before more lives are taken.”
“I thought you supported the magistrates and judges,” I said as he handed me up into his wagon.
He climbed in next to me, lifting the reins. “I do not support prejudice, lies, and hatred. This is not witchcraft. ’Tis hysteria and terror. Mental turmoil and panic. Some are innocently following along, thinking it is real, uncertain what is happening, praying they will not be afflicted. They see everything through the lens of darkness and cannot imagine it is something other than witchcraft.” His voice held conviction. “But others have begun to use this for power and control, to mete out personal justice for old feuds, boundary disputes, and grudges. Greed at its worst.”
The rain soaked into his doublet and wet the sleeves of his white shirt. The fabric stuck to his forearms.
“You’re cold,” I said as I started to remove his cloak.
He stayed my hands and met my gaze. His eyes were filled with a righteous passion I had never seen before—one that filled me with awe. I was certain he didn’t even notice the rain.
We drove through the streets of Salem Towne, heading north toward Salem Village.
“What will I do for Rachel?” I whispered in tears. “What if she gives birth to her child soon? She will be hanged in less than two weeks.”
Isaac set his large hand over my clasped ones. It was warm and solid—just like him. I looked up and met his gaze.
“Pray,” he said.
“I’ve been praying, but I do not know if God hears me.” And I didn’t know what I was praying for anymore. My prayers didn’t seem to work.
“He hears the prayers of all His children.”
“Then why doesn’t He do as I ask?”
“Because praying isn’t about getting what you want. He already knows. ’Tis about asking God what He wants.”
“What if He doesn’t want to save Rachel?”
“Then He hath a better plan than yours. Praying and seeking God means trusting that He will do what is best and taking comfort in His plan.”
“What if I don’t like what is best?”
“’Tis fine to tell Him your frustrations. Prayer is about a relationship with God.” He tapped the reins against the back of his horses to get them to move a little faster. “Like we’re talking now. ’Tis not about what you can do for me, or what I can do for you. We’re talking to help each other better understand difficult situations. We talk to get to know one another and to enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes we ask for help, but a loving relationship isn’t always about what the other person can do for us. ’Tis the same with God. We pray and read the Bible to know Him better, to understand His nature. To take comfort. To be known.”
“Do you think God changes?” I asked him.
“Never. Scripture says He is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Our circumstances might change, people’s beliefs might change. But He doth not.”
I had so many questions as we turned onto the road leading to Salem Village. Isaac’s voice was peaceful and comforting, unlike Reverend Parris’s voice, which usually made me feel anxious and guilty on Sundays. I loved seeing God through Isaac’seyes—just like I loved seeing Him through Grace’s eyes. They had so much faith and confidence. I wanted to feel that same assurance. It was there, right at the tips of my fingers, yet I wasn’t sure if I could fully grasp it.
“Thank you for coming for me,” I said as I nestled deeper into Isaac’s cloak.
“I would never leave you, Hope.”
Affection for him swelled within me, and I realized, with shame, that for many years I had not sought out Isaac for company or friendship—only when I needed something. It was how I had been treating God—only calling out to Him when I needed Him to perform for me or give me something I wanted.
