The Betrayal (11 page)

She crept closer. The tree leaves appeared to tremble harder.

Or is it my imagination? Mary wondered. Is it just my excitement?

For three days Jeremy had been working to clear the brambles from this new section of land. Each afternoon Mary had met him there. She brought him water from the well. Jeremy would take a break from his solitary efforts. They would sit together on a fallen tree trunk and talk.

Jeremy was so sweet, so understanding, so kind, Mary came to believe. She could feel herself growing close to him. She could feel herself beginning to fall in
love with him. The feelings swept over her gently, almost like pulling on a favorite wool cloak.

Comfortable. Reassuring. Warm.

“I feel as if I've known you all my life,” she told him after he had finished the mug of cold water. Her eyes trailed a gold and black butterfly as it fluttered near the trees.

Sitting beside her on the smooth tree trunk, he kicked the soft dirt with the heel of one boot. “Every afternoon I worry that you won't come,” he said softly.

“Here I am,” she replied, smiling.

“But if your father found out—” Jeremy started, staring into her eyes as if challenging her, a wave of blond hair tumbling over his forehead.

Mary's smile faded. “My father would not approve,” she admitted. “After all, you are only a poor farmhand, without a shilling. And I—”

“You? You are royalty!” Jeremy joked. But there was bitterness behind the joke. “Queen Anne!” He rose to his feet and dipped his head in a courtly bow.

Mary giggled. “Please stop. I am sure that after time—”

“Time,” Jeremy muttered. His eyes went to the thick brambles that rolled over the rocky ground. “Time for me to get back to work,” he said. “Your father has instructed me to clear this field before the week is out.”

“My father is not the true snob of the family,” Mary said, lost in her own thoughts. “My uncle Benjamin would be much more alarmed than my father if he knew—”

“How does your uncle Benjamin feel?” Jeremy interrupted, his features tensing in concern.

“Not well,” Mary replied, frowning. “His left arm has given out along with the leg.”

“You mean—?”

“He cannot move the left arm now. He has no feeling in it. It is completely numb, he says. His entire left side is paralyzed.”

“And how are his spirits?” Jeremy asked.

“Hard to tell,” Mary replied thoughtfully. “He is as difficult and cantankerous as ever. He is not a man to give in to illness or affliction.” She sighed. “Despite his strong spirit, he is as helpless as a baby.”

“He is lucky to have you as a nurse,” Jeremy replied, his eyes lighting up.

And before Mary could cry out or protest, he leaned over and pressed his mouth against hers.

Closing her eyes, Mary returned the kiss eagerly.

This is not proper. This isn't right.

But I do not care,
she thought.

“Edward, please wait for me,” Mary pleaded. “Don't walk so fast.” Twigs snapped beneath her shoes as she hurried to catch up to him.

“Sorry,” Edward said, turning to her. He pulled up a long, straight reed with his good hand and stuck one end in his mouth. “I was thinking about something.”

Mary stepped up beside him breathlessly. “About your father?”

Edward nodded.

A bird cawed loudly above their heads. Mary gazed
up into a red sunset sky to see two large blackbirds standing side by side on a low limb.

“Are blackbirds good luck or bad?” she asked her cousin lightly.

“Bad luck, I believe,” he replied thoughtfully. “Black is the color of death, is it not?”

“You do not have to be so gloomy,” Mary complained. “I asked you to come out for a walk to cheer you up.”

“Sorry.” He frowned. “I am gloomy. I cannot help it, Mary.”

“Because of your arm, Edward? It'will heal.”

“No,” he replied, glancing down at the heavy sling. “I am worried about my father. And Rebecca. And—”

“Rebecca?” Mary interrupted, stepping over a tree stump. “Is Rebecca ill?”

Edward shook his head. “No. But she seems so weary all the time, so exhausted. So dispirited. She seems so different to me.”

“I think she
is
tired,” Mary told him. “Ezra is not an easy child.”

Edward didn't reply. They continued their walk through the woods in silence. The last rays of sunlight slid between the slender trees, casting rippling blue shadows at their feet.

“It is nearly dinnertime,” Edward said finally, chewing on the end of the reed. “Rebecca will worry.”

“Let us head back,” Mary agreed, running her fingers along the trunk of a tall oak as she turned around.

“I tried to speak to my father this afternoon,” Edward told her, letting her take the lead. “I needed to speak to him about the receipts for the store. But he would only talk about his paralyzed arm and leg.”

“Oh!”

They had walked into a swarm of buzzing gnats. Mary raised her hands to shield her eyes. She quickened her pace, nearly stumbling over a jagged white rock in her path.

“It is so strange about Father,” Edward continued, still scratching his neck, even though the gnats had been left behind. “He feels perfectly fine. He seems to be in good health. He has no pain. And yet—”

“Perhaps his strength will return,” Mary said hopefully. She stopped and turned to him. “You seem so troubled, Cousin. You can talk of nothing but our family's gloomy problems and mishaps.”

“Everything was going so well for us,” Edward replied with emotion. “We were all so happy. And now, all of a sudden—”

He stopped walking.

Mary saw his eyes grow wide and his mouth drop open. The reed fell to his feet.

“Edward—what is it?”

She turned as he pointed.

At first she thought the yellow glow was the sun poking between the trees.

But she quickly remembered that the sun was nearly down. This yellow glow was too bright, too fiery.

“Fire!” Edward screamed, the flames reflected in his frightened eyes. “The woods are on fire!”

“No!” Mary cried, grabbing his good arm. “Edward—look!”

Inside the glowing fireball a figure writhed.

“Someone is trapped in the flames!” Mary shrieked.

“It cannot be!” Edward cried in a hoarse whisper. “It cannot be!”

But they both saw the dark figure of a girl clearly. The head rolled from side to side. Her arms were tied around a dark post behind her back that also burned with yellow fire.

Inside the flames.

Inside.

Being burned alive!

Gasping in horror, Mary began running toward the fire. Edward, struggling because his sling threw him off balance, followed behind.

“It is a girl!” Mary cried, raising both hands to her face. She stopped. She could feel the heat of the flames on her face.

Breathing hard, Edward stopped behind her.

Mary's breath caught in her throat. The fire seemed to grow hotter. Brighter.

She could see the girl clearly now inside the flames. Her mouth was open in a scream of agony. Flames climbed over her long curly hair. Flames shot up from her dark, old-fashioned-looking dress.

As the girl twisted in the flames, struggling against the stake behind her, she stared past Mary to Edward. Stared with wide, accusing eyes. Her entire body tossed with the fire. And through the flames her eyes burned into Edward's.

It took Mary a long time to realize that the terrified howl she heard behind her came from Edward.

She turned to see his entire body convulsed in a shudder of terror. Edward's dark eyes bulged in disbelief. The hot yellow firelight cast an eerie glow over his trembling body.

“Susannah!” Edward cried, recognizing at last the girl in the fire. “Susannah Goode!”

As he cried out her name, the vision darkened and disappeared. The burning girl vanished.

The woods were dark and silent—except for Edward's horrified howl.

“I have had nightmares about the fire for the past two nights,” Mary told Jeremy. “When I close my eyes, I see that poor girl, her hands tied behind her, her hair in flames, her entire body in flames. It was two days ago, Jeremy, but I still … I … I …”

Mary's voice broke. She leaned her head against Jeremy's solid shoulder.

They were seated close together on a low mound of
straw in the corner of the new field. Ahead of them, at the tree line, she could see the brambles and tree branches Jeremy had cleared from the field that morning.

The late afternoon sky was gray and overcast. Occasional drops of cold rain indicated a storm was approaching.

“Sometimes the light plays tricks in the trees,” Jeremy suggested, speaking softly, soothingly, his arm gently around Mary's trembling shoulders. “Sometimes you see a bright glowing reflection, and it's only the sun against a mulberry bush.”

“This was not a bush,” Mary replied edgily. “It could not have been a bush.”

“Sometimes the trees cast strange shadows,” Jeremy insisted.

“Jeremy!” Mary rose angrily to her feet. “Edward recognized the girl! It could not have been a shadow! He
recognized
her!”

Jeremy patted the straw, urging her to sit down. “I am sorry,” he said softly. “How does your cousin feel? Has he recovered?”

“Edward has become very quiet,” Mary told him, dropping back onto the straw but keeping her distance from Jeremy. “He will not talk about what we saw. He will not talk about much at all. He seems very far away. I—I think he has nightmares, too.”

Jeremy gazed at her but didn't reply.

“I am sorry to burden you with my troubles,” Mary said, frowning. She gripped the basket she had carried with her from the house. “I had better be going and let you get back to work.”

She could see the hurt in his eyes. “I want you to share your troubles with me,” he said. “You do not burden me, Mary.” He lowered his eyes to the basket. “What is in there?”

“Sweet rolls,” she replied. “I baked them this morning for Rebecca. I'm going to take them to her now. Rebecca has been in such low spirits lately. I thought to cheer her.”

He gazed at her with pleading eyes. A smile slowly formed on his lips as he pressed his hands together in a prayerful position.

“Do not beg,” Mary scolded, chuckling. “You may have one.” She reached into the basket and pulled out a large sweet roll.

“I would rather have this,” Jeremy said, grinning, and he sprang forward and began kissing her.

The sweet roll fell out of her hand into the straw. Mary made no move to retrieve it. Instead, she placed her hand behind Jeremy's neck and held him close.

When the kiss ended, she jumped to her feet, brushing the straw off the long white apron she wore over her dress. She adjusted the comb that held her hair and gazed up at the sky.

Dark storm clouds rolled over the gray sky.

“I had better go on to Edward's house,” she said.

“Have you told your father?” Jeremy demanded, picking up the sweet roll from the straw and examining it. “Have you told him about us? About how we feel?”

Mary frowned. “No. It is not the right time, Jeremy. Father is so terribly troubled.”

“You told your father about the fire? About the girl burning in the flames?”

“Yes.” Mary nodded solemnly, her skin very pale in the approaching darkness. “I told him about what Edward and I saw. He had the strangest reaction.”

“Strange?”

“He wears a silver disk around his neck. He always wears it. It was given to him in the Old Country by his grandmother. It is jeweled and has tiny silver claws. Well, when I told Father about the girl in the fire, he cried out as if he had been stabbed—and grabbed the disk tightly in one hand.”

“And what did he say to you, Mary?” Jeremy asked quietly, carefully picking straw off the sticky roll.

Mary's face darkened as the storm clouds lowered. “That is the strangest part,” she whispered. “He didn't say anything. Not a word. He just stood there gripping the silver disk, staring out the window. He didn't say a word.”

“That is very strange,” Jeremy replied, lowering the sweet roll, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“I must leave now,” Mary told him sadly. “Before the storm.” She lifted the basket and straightened the linen cover over the sweet rolls.

She took a few steps toward the pasture, then suddenly stopped and turned back to Jeremy. Still seated in the mound of straw, he gazed up at her, chewing a mouthful of the roll.

“What of
your
father?” Mary demanded. “Have you spoken to him about me?”

The question appeared to startle Jeremy. He choked for a moment on the roll, then swallowed hard.

“I would like to meet your father,” Mary told him playfully. “I would very much like to see your house and meet your father.”