Hiding the Accused (Closed)

[ArcticAvenue]

Outside of the meeting house, families gathered to greet and talk of the day. They were all dressed in their Sunday best; albeit conducive to the Puritan habit dark colored long linen dresses for the ladies, and breeches, jerkins, loose linen shirts, and Black overcoats for the men. Sure, the finer clothings had found the other American Colonies as the Seventeenth Century was nearing it’s close; but on this day and in this quiet village in Massachusetts, the Puritan lifestyle insisted on. Even on this late summer sunny & warm day, good church going folks were layered in woolen

Standing dutifully next to his father, mother, and sister, George Hawkes did his best to not show his restlessness to move on from this place. His mind wandered to the town, to the store. In the short time since he finished schooling, George looked forward to these Sunday afternoons when he could head to the shop to meet his old friends. Friends and of course … others there too.

“George,” his mother chimed. “George, I asked you a question.”

Coming to his senses, he realized his mind wandered. “Yes, mother?”

With a huff she repeated herself, “I asked you to tell what you saw in the woods the other night.”

George did his best to not roll his eyes, the one reaction he was sure would result in his town privileges revoked. Instead, he gave her what she wanted. “A dark creature, six foot tall and nearly as wide. Watching me from nearly the width of a street.”

“You said it was a bear,” screeched his sister Ann. She had finished school as well, bout right age to be married, if any boy was fool enough to marry the Minister’s daughter - or fool enough to marry a spoiled girl.

She was right though, he knew it was a bear, but his mother wouldn’t have it. “In the black of the woods, no telling what it was, but it surely watched me.”

“Witches,” his mother cursed. “The devil himself called forth by those horrible shrews. They would take away my boy.”

“I am not a boy, mother.”

“I know, George,” she rebuked. “But those women, they would turn their wicked ways to convince you to side with the devil, they will.”

George wanted to object more. Of course, he was no more a boy as his mother was no good judge of the devil. Nearly nineteen now, he itched to be out from under his own parents. A minister whose job was, in George’s opinion, to bring nothing but fear to the people; and a mother whom was the one to fear. Likely he would have to wait until he was married. Yet colonial life and the wages of a minister kept him well fed, strong, and sturdy. His hair, brown like a chestnut, and eyes like blue crystal drew attention from girls whom may take him up on such suiting. To this day, no such woman stood well when meeting the minister's wife.

“They captured a witch north of here, they say,” One woman chimed in.

“How did they know?” another responded.

“Haven’t you heard?” his mother nearly cackled, “they say when the removed her bodice, she had the mark of the devil right on her breast.”

George rolled his eyes, but a word hung in his ear. He started to wonder what it would have been like to watch them disrobe a witch. This of course made his mind wander further about much what lies under the garments of the ladies.

“Oh. Do pay attention George.”

And George was back.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “Might I be excused. I intended to meet my schoolmates in town this afternoon.”

His mother sighed. She knew that meant he would have an ale, something she did not approve of. So she knew how to keep him in line. “Take your sister,” she stated. “Ann needs a new ribbon for her hair.”

With the old woman staring at him, George did his best to hold off the eye roll once more. “Yes Mother. Come Ann.”

Before gaining a few steps of the family, Ann spoke in her overly condesending way. “She won’t be there, you know that.”

“What do you mean.”

“Lydia. You know she won’t be there.”

George grumped. “What do you care, I was going to see my school mates.”

“No you wasn’t. You wanted to see Lydia. She won’t be there.”

George just kept walking, frustrated by this day. Frustrated by having his sister tag along. Frustrated that Ann was probably right about Lydia. He had hoped to see her there, because in a few other times he went to town they had a casual meeting or two. Lydia was Ann’s age, slender, shorter, darker hair. The two girls were once friends, but seemingly no more. George had watched Lydia grow up with his sister, and thought of her often. The separation between she and his sister made it harder to talk to the lass, and bringing his sister along this day would make it even harder. Yet, George still hoped to see her. George liked the way her lips looked full and welcoming for a kiss. Likes the way her eyes seem to sparkle with amber in the sunlight. George really likes the feelings he feel when he sees Lydia, likes the way his face warms and his how a simple smile on her lips can stay with him for days.

“And I will tell mother if you drink ales at the tavern,” Ann complained interrupting his thoughts.

“How about I share an ale with you when no one is looking.”

Ann considered this for a moment and nodded. “Deal.”

 

[barefootgirl69]

Lydia followed along behind her parents after the Meeting was finished. Her father’s height made it easy to spot him in a crowd, which mostly parted when they saw him anyway. He was tall and broad, but had a kind smile and word for everyone. It was a good thing, too, because she was dawdling, searching the faces of the crowd.*

“Come along, Lydia…or you’ll be left behind,” her mother called over her shoulder, just as they were passing a crowd of women. Lydia could overhear their talk of witches.*Maybe the preaching should have been against gossip and wagging tongues, Lydia thought. That’s when she saw him on the other side of the clearing, standing with his mother and sister, her childhood friend, Ann. Even though his back was towards her, she could tell he was speaking with his mother, and she wondered if he, too, was speaking of witches.

He had grown into a man since they had first met. No longer were they children playing hide and seek, and she had put away her childhood things, as she was certain Ann had. But, the one thing from childhood that she hadn’t put away was her feelings for Ann’s brother. As she had grown, so did her fondness; she searched for him with her eyes each time they came to meeting or when they crossed paths in town, though they had never spoken.

Lydia hurried her steps to catch up to her family, walking quietly. When they arrived to the clearing in front of their home, she quickly spoke up. “Mother, do you mind if I do not partake of the meal and go into the woods to…,” she paused, “to admire the birds and to gather herbs and flowers?”

“You would rather do that than eat, Lydia? Then, go…but, do not be gone long, and be watchful of the wild animals, and anything that looks evil.”

“Yes, ma’am…I’ll be careful.” Lydia said. She grabbed a small basket and hurried down the trail through the woods that lead to a small clearing she had found recently, where the sun shone down brightly.*

Along the edge of the clearing, tall weeds grew and the flower looked almost like a daisy. Before she bent to pick the heads of the flower, she unfastened her dark brown hair and let it fall down her back to her waist. This was the part of being in the woods that she enjoyed the most…freedom! Soon she had the flowers picked and placed them in her basket humming a little tune under her breath as she worked.

Walking to the other side of, nearer the path, she picked more flowers from another plant and laid them next to the chamomile. She stood straight and looked around at the beauty of the woods, then began to walk down the path again, until she came to a little cabin on the outskirts of town. She stepped up to the door and knocked before entering to see Widow Cooke lying in bed.*

“Good afternoon, Widow Cooke,” Lydia said as she set the basket on the small table and went to the hearth to get water that had been warming near the fire. “Are you still aching and unwell?” As she prepared a tea to give to the widow, they spoke of things happening in the villages, and the rumors of witches in the area, as Lydia stored the rest of the flowers in the containers that lined the shelf next to the only window in the cabin.

These last few years, she had spent more and more time here at this cabin, where Widow Cooke taught her about the flowers and herbs in the woods and garden. Not just how to recognize them, but how to use them to help ailments. She had gone to a few cabins with the widow to help tend members of the church who were feverish, ailing, or giving birth. Now, it was Lydia’s turn to tend to the widow.*

There were many things that the widow had taught her, and Lydia paid careful attention as she went over the order of adding herbs or flowers, and the order of the prayers that she prayed over each pot.*

After helping the widow drink the tea and she had fallen asleep, Lydia slipped quietly from the cabin and headed into town. Maybe, if she headed over to the general store, she would catch a glimpse of George Hawkes. She knew that Ann might be along, and that it would be awkward since they had grown apart. It was her own fault, spending her free time in the woods and the cabin with Widow Cooke, she could not blame Ann for their friendship turning cold.

As she walked she thought of the glimpse she had gotten of him earlier, how she wished that he had looked up and noticed her, for then she might have seen the smile that swept across his face and brightened his eyes. A few years ago, while visiting Ann, she had looked up to find him watching her. At that time, she did nothing but duck her face to hide her smile, her heart was pounding so hard! Now, she was older, and so was he. There was no need to hide a smile from him any longer.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

“The pink one,” George stated.

“You know mother wouldn’t approve,” Ann sign songed back.

“Then the black one.”

Ann huffed. “William Muster wouldn’t approve.”

There were no more than seven spools of ribbon quality fabric in the store. Yet already, Ann examined each one up close to her blonde locks in comparison at least three times. George had already found the whetstone he intended to buy, paid for it, and was nearly finished with the cup of coffee offered to him. Ann, had yet to even choose a color.

“It is quite unthoughtful of you to take so much time,” he complained. “I agreed to bring you along, you should be more appreciative of that.”

She continued to delay, stroking each ribbon one at a time. “I could always return home and say I have left you to drink at the tavern.”

George harrumphed. Leaned back against the counter. Waited. His whole life, it had been this way. He had to work for what was his, he had to be diligent. Any wrongdoing lead to his punishment. Ann rarely was punished. She was rewarded for sweetness and kind words as there were no other things she did that was rewarded.

“Maybe the white one, but which white one. The lace or the the pressed”

George sighed heavily. Raised the cup to his lips. Then turned his eyes to the door as it opened. At that moment, he realized the hopes he had were about to be realized. Lydia walked into the store.

 

[barefootgirl69]

She didn’t see him standing there until her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the store. The bright sunshine she had walked through had felt warm on her cheeks and she was smiling as she closed the door behind her.

Looking across the room, she saw George leaning against the back counter with a cup in his hand and an eager look. If she had looked sooner she might have seen the disgusted look he had as he spoke with his sister.

Lydia continued glancing around the room as she walked to the counter, setting her basket down about four feet from him. Not many were there, but she did see Ann fingering the ribbons. She hadn’t bothered to look up as the door had opened.

“Hello, George,” she said quietly, not looking directly at him. She didn’t want to seem too interested him while others were there to over hear their conversation.

“What can I do for you today, miss?” the counter man asked. “Can I pour you a cup of coffee while you wait?”

Lydia looked at him and smiled, “No, thank you. I’ve just had a lovely cup of tea with Widow Cooke. What I would like is more black tea, please. About a half pound, for my mother.”

Ann had looked up when she heard Lydia mention Widow Cooke. There had been rumors about her of late, and she had heard one of the church members speaking to her mother about her visiting sick people and how she kept to herself. Ann hadn’t known how close Lydia had gotten to the widow. I’ll have to speak to mother about this, she thought.

At that moment, Lydia turned to look at Ann, holding her gaze and not looking away. Turning away to look at the ribbons again, Ann suddenly decided on the pink that George had first suggested, and walked to her brother without looking at Lydia again.

“Ann, hello. It’s nice to see you, it’s been a long while.” Lydia said, as she traced the edge of the basket with her fingers. She wished she knew what Ann had been thinking a moment ago, and why she looked pale at the moment.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

George’s cheeks immediately began to strain between the amount his smile grew along with the rush of color to them. Lydia’s arrival brightened up the store, and brightened up his demeanor immediately. He tried his best to contain his happiness to see his sister’s schoolmate once again, and took note of his own emotions to ensure they were controlled. Still, he watched her every step as she closed the gap between them, and simply marveled at how pretty a girl could be. How pretty a girl could ever be. Let alone one that might just talk to him. That is when she did just that.

“Hello, George,” she said quietly.


”Hello, Lydia,” he replied as quietly. Her reservation to speak more than just a greeting making him flustered. Allowing his own shyness to hold back towards a deeper conversation that could lead to some deeper feelings being confessed.

Ann, had in her mind to ruin his mood. She huffed, now with Lydia in such close proximity. George, trying to spy what made Ann, realized her obstinate expression now turned sour. She played with the ribbons with more harsh actions like she was punishing them. Even if George felt like he was the one being punished.

“What’s the matter,” George whispered.

Ann, too busy eavesdropping on the conversation behind him, kept staring past him yet still playing with the ribbons. Finally she cut a section of the pink ribbon and walked up close to George. “I will take this one,” she exclaimed, producing a penny and putting it onto the counter. “I am ready to go.”

That’s when Lydia greeted Ann. To George, it was quite friendly, even more friendly than the one Lydia gave to George. Yet it seemed to have a different reaction on Ann.

Ann went pale, turning back and leaning into her brother. “Oh goodness,” she exclaimed lifting her palm up to her head. “Something … something has come over me. I feel dizzy.”

George held his sister, trying to keep her steady. Genuinely concerned he stated, “Are you ill, Ann? Do you need to sit?”

“No. No.” she replied. “I think I must .. I would like to go home now.”

To George, it was a ruse. Whatever had become between Lydia and Ann has risen to playacting. And whatever antics Ann was up to, she would make sure the rest of George’s day was to be ruined. George gave a look to Lydia. In his mind he thought to apologize to her. Yet he couldn’t think of anything to say, apologize for what - for not being able to spend time with her? To talk to her more deeply?

The storekeeper asked if Ann wanted some tea, but Ann insisted on leaving for home. With a deep sigh, George nodded, but looked again to Lydia, hoping some how, some way there would be some excuse to talk to her again.

 

[barefootgirl69]

Lydia wasn’t sure what to think when Ann suddenly turned pale, she looked as if to faint right then and there. She watched as George tried to attend to his sister, he was so kind and gentle. It seemed that he was this way with everyone she had seen him with.

Ann was insisting that she needed to go home, and he politely said his good-byes. Lydia watched as he escorted his sister through the store and back out into the sunshine before she turned back to the storekeeper who said, “Your tea is ready, Miss. Is there anything else that I can…,” he stopped and picked up the whetstone. “This is the whetstone that Master George purchased, and he’s left it behind. I will have to keep it until he returns for it.”

“Let me take it, I think I can pass by on my way home and ensure he has it.” Lydia said. It wasn’t the storekeeper’s business that she would have to walk out of her way to do so, but they lived close enough.

The shopkeeper considered it for a moment, then replied, “That’s an excellent idea. I will put it in the basket with the tea.”

“Thank you.” Lydia said as she paid him. With her business here concluded, she left the store with her basket over her arm, slightly heavier than the herbs she’d had in it before.

As she walked back along the path, she thought of how nice it was to see him again. His smile as she walked in was enough to make her heart beat faster. Indeed, just the thought of it now brought a smile to her face. And, then, it had changed once more when Ann had brought her ribbon to the counter.

It occurred to her that Ann had not spoken to her at all in the store, not even a greeting. What could be wrong? Have I done something wrong? Has our friendship waned to the point where she won’t even speak to me? Why did she seem so frightened?

 

[ArcticAvenue]

About halfway to their home, away from the concerned and watchful eyes, George let his anger boil over.

“What are you trying to do, Ann?”

Her hand was still laid against her forehead, she still stepped gingerly; yet she raised an eyebrow and opened a mischievous eye to her brother. “Do you not show worry for your dear sibling, George?”

George stopped his act of helping her, turned away and crossed his arms frustrated. “You can fool others, but not me.”

Ann waved her hand in the air and stared back in walking towards home. “There was no fooling to be done. As anyone who was there knows, I grew ill and needed to return home. And when I reach home, I shall be all better. All that anyone will wonder is what caused such a spell, and will look at Lydia.”

George turned on an instant. “Lydia?”

“Yes,” Ann said confidently walking onward down the road. “Lydia the witch.”

George’s face turned red and he rushed the close the distance between them. “Don’t you dare. What has he ever done to you?”

Ann smirked as she faced her brother. Her hand reached to her forearm and started scratching lightly. “Don’t blind yourself, George. You know what they say about her, about all that time she spends in the woods. All the people of the village know there is a witch, you just won’t accept who it is specifically.”

“Yet it is a lie. You would lie to point to an innocent girl?”

“Innocent?” Ann tried to say sweetly. She itched at her arm again, subconsciously. “Did you not see the spell she put on me at the store?”

“Ann! Do you know what they do to witches? Can you live with that?”

Ann waved her hand in the air and walked on.

George was furious. His spoiled little sister was going to once again get her way, will force her wants on others. Yet now she will surely endanger another with her accusations. He turned and started moving back to town.

“I will tell mother that you are drinking ales in the tavern,” she said over her shoulder.

“I forgot my whetstone at the store. Say what you want.”

 

[barefootgirl69]

Lydia had been taking her time on the path. She was in no hurry to overtake George and Ann, neither was she in a hurry to speak to their mother when she arrived at their clearing. She knew that Ann’s mother was one of the people in their community that was stirring things up against some who were innocent of witchcraft. Hi s mother is the worst gossip! She blushed at having such a wicked thought, no matter how true it was!

Thinking of George made her think, once again, on Ann’s cold reception toward her at the store. Why did she not want to speak with her? She didn’t even want to greet her. It wasn’t simply odd, but downright rude, and that is the one thing that she couldn’t understand. Ann had never been rude towards her before.

She took her time walking and stopping to pick flowers and nettles for tea, listening to the birds singing. When she came to the trail that would lead to her home, she almost turned in and went there without another thought, but at the last moment, she remembered she had promised the storekeeper that she would make sure it was given to him. Not to mention, it gave her an excuse to see and speak with him.

That brought a smile to her face, as she truly thought he was the smartest young man in these parts, not to mention very handsome. Thankfully, he takes after his father, she allowed that thought to enter her mind, otherwise he’d be sharp faced and sharp tongued like his mother. She shivered at the thought, pushing it far from her mind and remembering all the smiles and all the laughter she had noticed when he was nearby. Yes, he was a very, very handsome young man.

Making her way through the wood, she began to sing a tune that Widow Cooke had taught her. She knew that it would be going against the church to sing and that, if caught, she would be brought before the Brethren and punished, but it was such a lovely song that she couldn’t stop herself.

My true love’s face I’ve yet to see.
I know not what his name may be.
But soon his heart well beat for me.
Come hither my love.

So may it be.

Of course, she couldn’t help but think of George while she sang, quietly so as not to scare the animals in the wood, and soon enough, she noticed that she was close to his clearing.

The afternoon would soon be giving way to the evening, and she must hurry in order to be home before the sun started setting and her parents began to worry for her. But, just ahead were some flowers that she didn’t see very often. I must get some of these for the widow, she thought.

She was bent over picking some herbs that she could use in a salve when George came upon her. She screamed, throwing up her hands when she heard his voice, and the flowers and herbs went flying!

 

[ArcticAvenue]

It was all he could do to keep himself from screaming. All the anger that Ann seemed to bring out in him was broiling this day. Of course never had his sister done something so sinister. Yes, she was not beyond telling a lie to get what she wanted, but this was dangerous. They imprison women for witchcraft, and worse things so the stories go.

All this stomping along the path did nothing to improve his anger. He stopped, clinched his fists, took a deep breath, and relaxed.

In his mind he heard a sweet voice, a sweet song, that seemed to resonate through the woods but seemingly without much more than a breath on the wind. It was of faces, and hearts, and loves. Without as much a reason, he thought of Lydia and his anger calmed. To have that way with him, to make him feel … something. It was enough to calm him.

He continued on his way, slowly. Maybe when he reached town he would have an ale. Maybe he would look for Lydia as well. If Ann was to condemn him to his mother, he might as well do those acts that condemn him.

No sooner did he think of it, but he turned a bend, and there she was. Lydia. Reaching for something along the bath.

“Lydia?” he asked as much in surprise and welcome.

She screamed, the plants and flowers in her hands flew in the air. It almost seemed as they returned from the sky that they showered her in their earthy smell. He wanted to laugh, but it was as equally as beautiful to watch.

Sheepishly, he smirked and said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm.”

 

[barefootgirl69]

She stood wide-eyed in shock. There before her stood the very man that she was coming to see, the one she had been thinking of as she sang her little song while walking along the path in the wood. Embarrassed to have been caught picking flowers and singing, she hoped he had not heard her.

They stood looking at one another for what seemed like hours. Each happy to see the other, yet remarkably speechless at the moment. Neither one knowing what to say or how to say it. They had never been alone together, especially in the wood. It would not go well for them if someone came across them alone like this. Then again, she had passed no one along the path the entire time she had been here.

“George! You frightened me.” Lydia finally broke the silence and blushed as she looked at him. “Why on earth are you not home with Ann, tending to her?” Spilling her thoughts from her mind out her mouth, she was even more embarrassed. Bending quickly to hide her face, she started to pick up the flowers, setting the basket on the ground beside her.

“I….I was on my way to see you, George. You left your whetstone upon the counter when you assisted Ann home. I promised I would bring it to you. It is here, in the basket.” She hastily reached in to pick it up. “I…I hope…that you do not mind that I’ve brought it to you,” she said quietly.

Why does my heart beat so hard in my chest when I see him? Lydia wondered.

When he bent to pick up some flowers and put them in her basket, their hands touched and they both pulled back quickly.

Why does he look at me this way? Why does the way he looks at me make the butterflies take wing in my stomach?

 

[ArcticAvenue]

“S-see me?” He first asked. Stunned not only to see Lydia not so long after thinking of her, by how beautiful the flowers were she carried, but that she was coming to see him on top of it all.

He smirked at the thought of it all. “How would I ever mind an act of kindness, Lydia.” When she mentioned the flowers, he remember that they were now scattered about the road. Reaching to pick them up for her, he gathered what he could, tried to bring the to her, but that is when their hands touched.

Sure he pulled his hand back, but the warmth of her skin still lingered on his, and it made him blush with heat. It was as if she had put some kind of spell on him, and he could do nothing but be flattered and endeared by her presence. A spell he would welcome any day of the week.

But just the thought brought him back to his reality, and the questions she had asked of Ann.

“Ann is up to trickery, Lydia, and I am worried for you if she pursue her nonsense,” he started. “She feigned the illness. She seems to think ill of you, horribly so, but for a reason I don’t know. So, she acted like she did to make it look like she has had some sickness cast onto her. As soon as we left town, she was all well and her old spoiled self. She intends to tell my mother that you cast some wickedness onto her,” angrily he scoffed, “as if she does not know what could happen if anyone would believe her. As if she is mute to the cries of those whom are imprisoned or worse.”

He tried to look away, but struggled to take his eye from the girl. “I will do what I can to keep the rumors from being said. I know she is just telling lies, but be weary, Lydia. No good can come from her behavior.”

 

[barefootgirl69]

Her face was still flushed with the shyness that she felt towards George, and her hand where they had touched still tingled. She had never been this close to him before, and she had certainly never been alone with him and any other young man.

Lydia tried to concentrate on salvaging some of the flowers instead of the way his nearness made her heart race. She had just been thinking of him, and his sudden appearance could be the reason why it had increased…but, she didn’t fear him.
She wanted to be this close, and she had wanted this for some time. Even before she had started going to Widow Cooke’s cabin.

Still kneeling to pick up flowers, Lydia listened to his words regarding Ann with nervousness. She knew that there was talk in the settlement about the widow and her ability to heal. Lydia didn’t think that others knew of her association with the widow…until today, when she had spoken in the shop…in front of George and Ann.

Her heart began to sink.

“Does she not realize that I could be arrested and brought before the court and sentenced? I am her friend…or, atleast, I was her friend.” Her voice trailed off as her fingers brushed against her skirt. “George, what will happen to me if she is believed?”

She wasn’t worried that Ann would speak these lies against her, she was worried that Ann would speak and the truth be known. Worse, she was worried that George would learn the truth and she would lose his friendship. She would lose the young man that had stolen her heart.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

George rose to his feet still concerned for the girl, but now also nervous to be so close, so alone with her. He could not help to try to control his feelings, like they spoke in church how a man’s desires can ruin him Yet the girl, Lydia was so sweet, and so kind, why should he not want to be this close. Why should he not warn her of the trouble with Ann.

“Ann seems blind to the problems she causes,” he hrumphed. “She is too spoiled. Too much of those wanting to throw only the sweet words and kindness to give her what she asks for.”

He turned to look back at Lydia. Where she still moved about on the ground, the collar of her dress drooped lightly. George could see the skin of her upper chest just there in the light. It was a long distance to anywhere that would be indecent, but the hint of seeing more than what a proper dress would show caused him to catch his breath and start to feel pressure in his blood.

Dry mouthed he tried to speak. “I don’t know why she targets you.” He paused, trying to find the right words to wonder further. Then the great fear he wished not to learn about Lydia entered his mind and it led him to a question to face that fear directly. “Ann seems … these days … to spend time … hoping she will find her husband. Ummm … you wouldn’t … ummm … that is, it wouldn’t be suprising if the man .. or any man … that you have claimed for yourself. That she maybe sweet on a boy who you are … ummm … courting.”

 

[barefootgirl69]

Lydia’s heart was still pounding in her chest. She had wanted to speak to George for so long, and had even used the whetstone as a reason to do so, but now she didn’t know what to say. She was barely listening to him at the moment, as she tried to get her breathing under control enough to converse.

Putting the last of the flowers into the basket at her feet, Lydia stood just as George forced the word “courting” out of his mouth.

“Courting, George?” she asked, surprised that he would think she was being courted by someone. “I’m not courting at the moment, at least not that I know of. I don't know where you would have heard such tales.” She was watching him with a perplexed look upon her face.

Picking up the basket, she held it in front of her as she continued, “Ann is a beautiful young woman and is bound to find herself a husband before long. I doubt that she would have any trouble finding someone suitable.” In the back of her mind, she added “if she wasn’t so obnoxious and rude.” That was something she would never say to George, though.

Looking up through the trees, Lydia could see that the sun had started to sink. As much as she wanted to stay and spend time with George, to speak with him and get to know him, to allow him to get to know her, she really did need to get home before her parents worried.

All I need is for them to come searching for me and for Ann to find out that I’ve been alone in the woods with her brother!

 

[ArcticAvenue]

George was relieved, maybe even visibly so. It wouldn’t be out of character for Ann to get upset at another girl for turning the eye of a boy she liked - so it was a proper question, as far as George was concerned. It was just good to find out that there wasn’t anyone courting Lydia. Maybe, if this was to pass, maybe he could be the one to do so.

He noticed Lydia look to the sun, and he gazed that way as well. It was getting late, and if he stayed away much longer, Ann’s claim that George went back to the tavern would hold more water. He slowly his ran his hand through his hair and smile. “Well, I should let you get back to your flowers, Lydia. And I should get back to make sure Ann hasn’t gone more ill.”

He hated the thought of leaving her, but the time had come and he knew kind words would ensure that she would appreciate it. His hands found their way to behind his back and clasped so he could give a courteous bow. “It was very pleasing to see you out here this day, Lydia. I really appreciated that you thought enough to bring my whetstone. It was a blessing that we could find each other in these woods. I hope maybe to return the favor sometime if the Lord allows it.”

 

[barefootgirl69]

“It was a pleasure to be able to do you a kind turn, George. I’m simply glad that I was there at the moment, to save you from going all the way to town again today.” Lydia spoke quietly. “I bid you good day, and hope that we will have an opportunity to speak again soon.”

She picked up the basket that had been sitting at her feet, full once again of the flowers and herbs she’d collected. The both reluctantly turned towards their homes, and as she walked away she had to force herself not to turn back to watch him leaving.

There was something so sweet about him, something that made her want to be around him more. He was so handsome, so kind, and…and…he was amazing. She had watched him for years, had seen how he treated others, had seen how he worked hard at whatever task he was doing. Lydia blushed at the turn of her thoughts. She had begun to wonder what he would be like as a suitor!

Just as the sun was settling on the treetops, she walked into the clearing surrounding the cabin that her father had built. Everything seemed so peaceful, so quiet. Suddenly a strong breeze blew around her, lifting her dress …and yet, not one flower stirred in the basket. Lydia stood stock still, wondering what was happening. When the breeze died down, she looked toward the cabin, hoping that no one had seen. She wouldn’t know how to explain it to anyone…she didn’t even know how to explain it to herself.

It was time to go inside and see if there was anything her mother needed help with before the evening meal, even though her spirit was suddenly disquieted.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

When George entered the house, his mother found him within blinks of the door closing.

“Where have you been, George,” she demanded. She stood remarkably close and bent to be directly in his face. She was checking for the smell of the tavern.

“I … I forgot my whetstone,” he replied. Quickly, he dug the stone from his pocket and presented it to her inspection.

“Why would you leave that behind, and why would you leave your sister.”

“Ann seemed … well.” George tried to look past his mother towards the sitting room, wondering if that is where the turncoat was now spreading her lies.

“She seems far from well to me, George,” his mother chastised. “She seems dizzy and faint. She barely could keep standing. I only hope the stew I brought her will make her better.”

Quickly his mother turned to the kitchen, George following behind as well. When they entered the kitchen, Ann was bent over a bowl devouring the stew inside. When she noticed her family enter, she dropped her spoon, put the back of her hand to her forehead and swooned.

“Oh goodness,” Ann sobbed, “I can barely eat I feel so … so … bad.”

George’s face turned red, lost in the hatred of such a falsehood. “You told me you were feeling much better when we were walking home from town. In fact, I seem to remember you playing and dancing about.”

Ann scowled, then absently scratched at her arm. “You almost had to carry me until you left me to run back to the tavern.”

“I didn’t run ..” George cut himself off before he got in trouble for becoming too insensitive. “You were doing much better than you were in the store. You basically walked on yourself when I returned for my whetstone.”

“But I am not now.”

His mother decided to take sides finally, but unsatisfyingly. “Yes George, you should have stayed with your sister. Look at her, even now breaking out with a rash.”

Ann looked down at her arm, and a red patch of skin was starting to blister. “Oh no!” She exclaimed. She actually looked surprised by at first, but quickly went back to swooning. “Oh … Oh No! I have been cursed.”

“Cursed,” George scoffed.

Ann shot a dirty look to her brother then continued to expand on it. “Surely I have been, it all makes sense. The dizziness, the breath being swept from my lungs, the rash, the visions …”

“The visions!” George interrupted.

“Yes,” Ann exclaimed. “I saw a dark shadow.” Pursing her lips trying to formulate the story in better detail. “Just before you arrived. Outside the window.”

Their mother walked quickly over to the window and looked out it.

George stared at Ann and mouthed ‘Don’t you dare say it.’

Ann smirked, then made said what George threatened her against. “I must have been bewitched. It must have been that girl Lydia.”

George slammed his hand onto the table top.

His mother turned in suprise.

George saw this, and felt like he had to make up his own lie to give him time to cool his anger. “Outside the window you say,” he gritted. “I shall go see.”

“Be Careful,” his mother called.

In a moment he was out the door with his gun as if he was out to defend the homestead. He had grown too angry, to frustrated. How dare she. This was too dangerous. To do so against an innocent girl. HIS innocent girl.

He walked behind the shed and clenched his fists. This was going to mean trouble, trouble for Lydia. He needed to cool off, get his wits, and come up with a plan. Lydia would need to know. Soon, Lydia would need to hide.

 

[barefootgirl69]

“Mother, why don’t you sit and let me dish supper up tonight. I know you have been here without me this afternoon, and I don’t want to over tax you.” Lydia said putting her hand on her mother’s shoulder.

Hester sighed deeply as she went to the table, “Thank you, Lydia. You are a good daughter.”

Everyone else was already seated at the table as the sun was sinking lower and lower in the sky. Darkness had not yet come, but would soon be here laying in the yard and enveloping them until morning.

When all had been served, Lydia took her place at the table between her youngest sister and her father. Aaron Wilkerson was a tall and strong, a hard working man who provided good food and shelter and taught his children to do right. There were six of them in all, and one on the way…soon another little one to help her mother with. One day, she would have her own children. Thoughts of George bending over in the wood this afternoon filled her mind.

“Lydia? Lydia, did you hear me?” She looked at her father who had been speaking. “You looked as if your mind were far away dreaming.”

Setting her spoon down, Lydia spoke quietly. “I’m sorry, father. I was thinking of seeing Ann and George Hawkes at the store this afternoon, and how ill she had been.”

“A fine young man,” her father said matter of factly.

“I thought you had simply gone to see Widow Cooke, Lydia.” Her mother spoke quietly as she helped her youngest daughter with her supper.

“I’m sorry, Mother. She was still feeling poorly and I noticed that she needed more tea. I went to town to fetch her some. It’s in the basket with the flowers I picked on the way home.

Her father, who had been waiting to continue his conversation with Lydia, said. “Did you hear that there have been more young women who’ve been accused of witchcraft in the other colony? There have been at least eight and, it is said that one was hung last week. I’m sure they are innocent, why one was said to have only been picking flowers.”

Pausing to wipe his mouth and take a sip of water, then placing a hand on hers, “I’m concerned for you, daughter. You spend much time with the widow and helping her, and picking flowers and such in the woods for teas and medicinal things.”

Her mother spoke up from the opposite end of the table, “Do you think that this is something we should be discussing in front of the little ones, Aaron? Especially at the table. Please, may we speak of something else?”

“Yes, wife, why don’t we speak of that Elderberry Pie that you made this afternoon! I think I would love to have a piece, wouldn’t you, and you, and you?” He smiled at each of his children as he spoke. Lydia was already up and bringing it back to the table with a big knife to cut into it. Everyone was laughing and excited about having pie.

***

Deep in the night, Widow Cooke stumbled from her bed to the table to get a drink from the pitcher of water that Lydia had left for her earlier in the day. Only the moon shown faintly through the window, barely giving enough light to see as she lit a candle. Her fire had gone out hours ago as she slept, and as she bent to light it once again, she heard a noise at the door that so frightened her that she jumped quickly, falling over and hitting her head on the corner of the table. Hearing the door close, she looked up to see a misty shadow standing over her. Her eyes widened as it said, "It is time." She drew her last breath as the shadow vanished.

***

Lydia tossed and turned in the bed she shared with her sisters. Dreams of shadows kept waking her until she decided it was best to not sleep anymore. Watching the sun lighting the sky several hours later, Lydia decided to get up and stoke the fire to prepare for a new day.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

“George,” came a whisper.

George didn’t turn over, but he was waking from the voice.

“George,” it repeated, hands now shaking him lightly.

He turned over and tried to open his eyes. In the dim light, he saw Ann standing over him. “What is it?”

She turned her back, and pulled her nightgown down over her shoulder. “I can’t reach with the salve, put it on my back.”

By the time he returned to the home, by the time he cooled off enough to return home, Ann’s rash had spread up her arm. Their mother found some salve used to treat burns to cover it. George wouldn’t have anything to do with his sister at the moment so he found the bed and tried to sleep. “Have mother do it,” he groaned and tried to roll back over.

“No,” she replied forcefully. “She told me not to wake her.”

After a long sigh, he turned over. The part of him that was so utterly frustrated with the sins of his sister seemed to not be so dominate that a kindness to grant her this one bit of help could not win. He sat up in the bed and took the pot of salve.

Ann slid the nightgown down her arm a little further.

“Good God, it’s all over your back,” he nearly spoke too loud.

“I know, and it itches madly,” she whined.

He started covering the red area, seeing how the skin was showing signs of blistering and cracking. “This … this looks like poison ivy,” he stated.

“It is not,” she replied. “Just hurry up.”

“How did you get poison ivy all over your back. You would have to be rolling around in it.”

“It was a curse.”

George knew, as most the villagers, the poison ivy rash. Mostly, you catch it from working in the woods, whether cutting firewood or hunting. The best way to not capture the rash is to avoid it, but sometimes you are just in the area - so you cover yourself with as much clothing as you can. Thinking of this, George realized what he may be seeing.

“You were rolling in the grass naked weren’t you?” George laughed.

She nearly stomped her foot. “Just hurry.”

“Wasn’t it last week you too a walk with William Baker?”

She turned sharply, looking over her shoulder at him. They eyes of hers were like the devil. She pulled her nightgown back into place and stood. “I am going to tell mother that I was bewitched by Lydia Wilkerson and that old woman Widow Cooke. I am going to tell her she’s bewitched you as well to fall for her.”

“I never …”

“And there is nothing you can do. They are going to hang for this.”

George narrowed his eyes, “You petty little creature. What has she ever done to you. To want some innocent dead …”

“Innocent. Not after what she did.”

Ann moved away to her own bed and threw her covers over her head.

George could lash out more, but it would be dangerous. To say a word could wake his parent, which would be looked upon as just more proof that Ann would use against Lydia surely. No, that would not do.

He sat in his bed, awake and alert. Considering his options, choosing his next steps.

Lydia had to be warned. Lydia had to be protected. Noone would do so, not in his village, she needed to be pulled from this place.

And George would be the only one who could do it.

 

[barefootgirl69]

The sun was up and shining brightly in the sky as Lydia hung the last piece of laundry on the line that her father had made between two huge Oak trees at the edge of the clearing. Between the warmth of the sun and the slight breeze blowing, they should be dry before supper.

She went back to empty out the water she had used, now dirty and filmy with soap. Soon she would be getting more help with this task, the little ones would be able to do more than help her wring out the wet clothing.

She could hear her little sisters playing behind her with their dolls, their dresses still damp from helping Lydia. Just after breakfast her mother had taken the chair outside into the sunshine and sat there with her mending, while Lydia’s father and brother went to tend the garden where vegetables were growing in rows. It seemed that everyone was settled in for the afternoon.

“Mother, do you mind if I take the tea and the herbs to Widow Cooke and check on her? I want to see if the fever she had yesterday has broken.” Lydia said, drying her hands on her skirt.

Hester looked up from her mending, “I don’t that it is a problem if you go, Lydia. The children seem content, and I am fine to be left alone for a few hours. Go along, and give her my regards. I hope that she is doing well.”

“Thank you, Mother. I shan’t stay long.” Lydia called over her shoulder as she went inside to gather her things.

The walk to the cabin didn’t take long, but when she arrived she noticed that there was no smoke coming from the chimney. The widow was probably still huddled in bed and hadn’t risen to keep the fire stoked. This also meant she hadn’t had anything to eat, or had worsened in the night.

Lydia hurried along, only knocking briefly on the door before entering. She saw the widow on the floor right away and her heart sank. She knew without checking that her friend was no longer breathing, and had not had a breath in many hours.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Over one shoulder was slung George’s hunting rifle. In George’s shoulder bag, he held what he thought what he might need. A knife, a flint, his new whetstone, five candles, a few more odds & ends, extra gunpowder & slugs, a change of pants, shirt, & socks; and in case this was to be a long time gone he carried his notebook, one he kept to writing what he felt from time to time. It was not all his possessions and wasn’t as if he packed to never return, but it would be enough to allow time, a fair bit of time, before he would need to return.

With the excuse that he intended to go after some rabbit, he lit out of his house at the crack of dawn. It was some distance to the Wilkerson home. He found Lydia’s sisters playing in the yard; which made asking after her much easier. Seems the young seem not to wonder why a young man might ask after their sister, not like a father might. They suggested he try the Widow Cooke’s house.

Of course, George was uncomfortable with what that means. It would be a fair bit of time walk to the Widow’s home, nestled into the woods. Worse is that Lydia’s continued assistance with the Widow would not help their cause. The rumors of Widow Cooke were of witchcraft in these parts. Of course, everyone in these parts were at one time rumored to practice witchcraft, but those rumors about Widow Cooke tended to be more tangible. It would be hard to defend the rumors against Lydia if she continued to go there.

Still, the purpose of what he was doing was to protect Lydia. By Noon that day, Ann surely would have turned her ungodliness that caused the rash into accusations. If Lydia wasn’t someplace safe, they could come for her and the lord knows what could happen then.

As he approached the Widow’s home, he started to move quieter - for no reason he could think of. There was some movement outside of the home, something he could not quite tell what it was. So he slowly moved to the edge of the clearing where it sat, and looked upon what he did not expect.

 

[barefootgirl69]

Lydia took the widow’s hand in her own as her tears fell down her cheek. For such a short time, the widow had taken her under her wing teaching her of tinctures and teas and balms that helped those who were ill. They had tended a number of members of the community together these last two years. She would miss the fellowship they had shared during this time.

Standing to her feet and looking around the cabin, Lydia began gathering the things that she knew would be needed to be taken away before others found out about her death and came to the cabin. She reached above the fireplace to remove the stone that hid a secret alcove where the widow put her one book, Book of Spells and Potions, as old as she was and more. Widow Cooke had brought it with her from England on the ship as a young wife.

She walked over to her basket and tucked it into the bottom covering it with a cloth from the widow’s wash basin. There was only one thing left to do. With all the witchcraft tales throughout the colonies, Lydia knew there was the possibility of accusations and that there might be a desecration of any place the widow was buried. She needed to bury her today and leave the spot unmarked.

Over in the cupboard, Lydia found a long sharp shovel that the widow used in her garden and, along with the poker from the fireplace, Lydia went out the front door to the side of the cabin where the garden has recently been plowed in preparation for planting. It would be easier to dig in the soft dirt, and easier to hide the marks of a grave.

Setting down the tools, Lydia unbuttoned the top she had on and hung it neatly on a nearby tree limb, next was her skirt. It would be easier to wash her chemise and drawers than her dress, and she wouldn’t need to explain how it was soiled, either. No one would see the dirty underclothing, it would be hidden by the dress.

With the sun beaming down, Lydia set about digging. She wasn’t far along when she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye, and turning quickly, saw George standing at the corner of the cabin watching her.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

From his spot around the corner of the cabin, George spotted Lydia. It was as if she was heading out to the garden to tend to what grew there. Why he chose to stop and watch, it was lost to him, but seeing her once more in the morning sun was like seeing a radiant creature through the forest. She was as beautiful as ever, and with the look of determination, she looked that much more simple and strong.

That is when she did what he didn’t except. She began to undress.

He had never seen a woman in such a state of undress, except for his sister of course, but this was not like that. Lydia stood in a chemise that seemed like it hung from her body. It exposed her arms, her shoulders, even dipping off of her neckline. The night before when he felt a rush upon seeing her tight collar dip a hint lower was nothing to what he witnessed now. She was seemingly just a thin layer of cotton away from exposing herself in the most womany of ways. Yet it did not stop there. She stood in her drawers, which seemed to hold itself against the slight curves of her young hips. When she move with the shovel, the way the cloth pulled against her bottom only enhanced the roundness of the flesh. He could easily make out the shape of her thighs, the slow bend around her hips, and the suggestion of her loins. Watching her shovel in the garden was easily the most erotic moment of his life, and his body had an undeniable reaction to the display he so horribly took advantage of watching.

Then she spotted him. He was mortified, embarrassed, utterly disappointed for spying on the girl in her state of undress.

Yet he still could not look away.

He stepped out from behind the cabin, and fumbled the best he could to speak, still not able to turn his head appropriately.

“I-I am … sorry, Lydia. I did not mean to disturb. Or offend in your current … in the way you are …” He took a long breath and removed his hat. “I worry about you. Ann has not relented on her lies .. and she .. .she will speak more today, I am sure of it. I have come … to … to hide you. If you let me.”

 

[barefootgirl69]

Lydia was so startled to see George that she completely forgot that she wasn’t dressed. As he approached, she saw the flushed look on his face and wondered if he were ill. He began talking as soon as he was near enough, and it was then that remembered her current state of dress…or undress, as it were, she thought. She didn’t know how long he had stood there watching her, why bother now to fumble for clothing. Anyway, her privacy was still covered, thankfully…or so she told herself as she stood there watching him remove his hat and tell her about Ann’s plot against her.

“I still do not understand why your sister, one who used to be my best friend, would want to harm me in this fashion,” Lydia said in a voice just above a whisper. She knew they were alone, but it did not harm to speak quietly when others might come upon them. Not that anyone came to the Widow except those who needed help with an illness.

Wiping her hair from her forehead, Lydia looked up at George. “Hide me? Do you think that I need to hide from her mischief? Surely the people will hear her and say she’s daft! Why, what would my parents say when I am gone? Do you think that they will not search for me?” she was rambling on with her questions whilst George stood there twirling his hat in his hand looking at the ground. Lydia stepped closer in order to get his attention. “George? Where do you plan to hide me? Will I ever be able to come home again?”

It was then that she remembered what she was doing in the garden. There was no way she could leave here while the widow was unburied. Her conscious would not let her walk away with this undone. Anyway, her basket was still inside. She would need to gather a few more things before she could leave here, after she had buried the widow.

“I know you want to help me, George, though I don’t know why. It would not look well for you if it is found that you have helped me. Maybe you should simply take your leave now and be gone before I am found and charged with witchcraft.” Her hand swept behind her towards the garden, “as you can see here, I am busy and there are things that I need to do before I can go anywhere. Thank you kindly for your concern, George, but I cannot go anywhere just yet and, when I do go, I should be alone. You should go. Tend to your sister and her madness; she will need looking after.”

With that, she turned away and bent to shovel more dirt aside. She hoped that he wouldn’t notice that she wasn’t digging a trench but something much larger. Looking over her shoulder to see if he had gone, she blushed. He was staring at her bottom.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

George listened to her, soaked in her justification for leaving her be. It was somewhat mad, though, wasn’t it? Hearing how his sister made wild accusations and assuming that Lydia now was in mortal danger. That, and how was he to think she would just go blindly with him. He wasn’t presenting himself as much of a gentlemen now. He was, infact, unable to hide his open staring at her body; unafraid to watch her bottom when she turned her back on him. No doubt, his confusion was blindly aided by her state of dress, and his desire to study all the newly exposed skin she presented to him. No doubt his confusion was driven by something deeper inside, not so much the carnal thoughts he carried but one of a stronger urge.

Still, he knew his sister. He knew his mother. Because his father was the minister, he knows what steps will be taken and when. Level thought no longer was reasonable expectation from them; so level thought by he and Lydia were no longer acceptable.

“No,” he stated. He shook his head taking a little stronger tone. “No! You must hide.”

He stepped closer and took her arm firmly. “I know what will happen. My sister this morning will show a rash that undoubtely came from a source that had nothing to do with you. My guess she gained it from time spent with a boy, and now she tries to hide that by feeding off of my mother’s worst fears. She will tell my mother you are witch. My father will have to act. By midday they will come to your home to find you. By nightfall, they will arrest you. You … the Widow Cooke … both of you because of my selfish awful sister.”

He stared intently at her, watching her reaction, but catching a moment to think of the real question. “We have to hide you and the Widow. I could take you both to a hunting cabin. It is a half-day’s walk from here and we could arrive by evening. It maybe a few days before they realize I am gone, so they wouldn’t think to look in our cabin and by then it could have all resolved itself.”

His hand slid down to her hand. “Lydia, you must come with me. As God as my witness, I will protect you from anything that might come.”