The Sins of a Few (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Faith could not have torn her attention from Nathanial’s retreating form if she tried, but fortunately such an effort was not needed.

He did not go far.

Even over the distance, the sight of him was enough to take her breath. He stood tall and strong, his eyes so brilliantly blue they rivaled the glory of the sky. He did not look at her, and she relished the opportunity to study him unabated. A cool breeze ruffled the same strands of hair through which she had run her fingers and wanted with her whole heart to never let go. His arms, thick and powerful beneath his sleeves, were the very ones that had held her so gently she could scarcely breathe. And the breadth of that chest, and within it the steady beat of a heart that raced when she was near.

How could she do anything but love him?

She wanted to run to him, to ask for his forgiveness. To declare it mattered not where they lived, as long as they were together. She would go with him anywhere, because she had finally realized a home was not a location but the people within it. But she would have to wait, for he began to speak. As soon as the first words left his mouth, the crowd surrounding Jeremiah shifted. Nathanial commanded attention, and there was no finer example of this than when Jeremiah’s shouts went unnoticed in favor of the enigma that was her husband.

Or at least she supposed he was.

“As most of you know, my name is Nathanial Abbot.”

Faith’s head spun. He must know she was there, but he did not seek her out. His attention seemed to shift through each individual—everyone but her—and with each moment that passed the rising din of concern overtook her a bit more.

Then she felt a hand on her arm and looked to see Cornelia. The young woman met her eyes and offered a hesitant smile. She nodded in Nathanial’s direction. “He is a good man, miss. He wanted to help me. I tried to refuse him, but he did not let me. Most people only see me as…well, he saw more. He gave me a chance to be more.”

Faith stared at her, her heart both warmed and broken by his generous spirit.
Her husband
. How could she let him go? She was ripped from her thoughts when she realized he was talking.

“…horrors felt by all in Salem who both faced and feared the accusations brought forth, in great part by members of my own family.”

Faith gasped.
What is he doing?

“I was not here to be a voice of reason during this terrible time, and sadly what has been done cannot be undone. I was horrified to learn upon of my return to this soil that my own family took part in the accusations, and even more so to know they provided testimony that convicted the innocent. We cannot bring back those lost or dispel the fear that lingers to this day, but an injustice was served—one that should not go unpunished.”

She looked around, but with everyone exchanging questionable looks, it was clear no one knew of Nathanial’s intent…with the possible exception of his family. Nathanial’s father stood near the thickest part of the crowd, his face a terrible shade of red. Nearby, Elinor Abbot swayed, her face completely without color. Beside Elinor, Abigail stood with her sisters, appearing unaffected. Without interest.

Nathanial conversed briefly with the magistrate, then returned his attention to his audience.

“It is then in the name of justice I would like to formally request charges are brought against the truly guilty and those who were responsible for guiding them…and failed. Richard and Elinor Abbot, Abigail, Mary—”

What was he doing?

“Stop!” The word left her mouth without forethought.

All heads swiveled, and Faith found herself staring at a hundred bewildered faces at once, but only one mattered.

Nathanial’s.

Courage fled, and fear filled the vacancy. Fear that she would be arrested upon speaking her mind, fear that she would stand up and lose him anyway. But too many people in Salem had lived in fear of speaking up. Too many had failed to be a sorely needed voice of reason among neighbors who, like her, had been a little too quick to judge.

The risk was one she would have to take.

The crowd made haste in allowing her through, and far too quickly she stood at Nathanial’s side, a multitude of eyes upon her.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a low voice.

Her heart caught in her throat. His voice was too neutral…too restrained. Where was the man who had held her so passionately? Though he had not spoken an untruth about the status of her home, he had misled her. Surely her anger had been understandable. Could they be so easily lost? The questions would have to wait.

She turned and faced her neighbors. People who had faced the worst and now struggled to move on, each and every one searching for healing. “This cannot go on.”

“Faith—”

“May I?”

His eyes searched hers for an interminable moment. Then he simply held out his hand—not to take hers, because that was forbidden—but in invitation. “If you have not heard, I have recently taken a wife and she clearly has an opinion contrary to mine.”

Murmurs and tittered laughter rippled through the crowd.

Faith stepped forward. She prayed his would be permission enough, for she could very well be arrested for standing vocal—both as a woman, and because she stood in argument.

She turned so as to address the crowd as well as Nathanial. “As many of you know, I lost my Aunt Ruth. She was like a second mother to me, and I loved her dearly. My story repeats itself through each and every one of you, for every loved one we lost was someone’s mother or daughter, father or son. Nathanial Abbot is a good man, one who stands on principal. One who wishes to do the right thing and see all those responsible held accountable. But bringing charges against those who have sinned against their neighbors will not bring back our loved ones and it will not bring healing to our community. They have perhaps brought judgment on themselves, but I think we can agree we are not the ones to hand it down. We have judged enough…it is time to move on.”

When she finished, not a sound drifted through the gathering. Then all at once, voices erupted. Nathanial pulled both her and the magistrate aside.

“I appreciate your gesture,” he said, “and no doubt my family does as well, but the magistrate is here to read the charges.”

“Are you saying it cannot be undone?” She turned to the magistrate. “You do not have to pursue them, do you?”

The man shrugged. “It is the Goodman’s choice. He is the complainant.”

Nathanial turned to her, and in his eyes she saw the man who had held her. Loved her. “Are you sure?”

“I want to move on,” she said. “We all do.”

He glanced to the magistrate, who gave a slight nod.

Nathanial sighed. “Very well then. It is as you wish.” He turned to his audience…to her neighbors. “My wife believes in forgiveness, and Salem is much in need of it. The events of the past several months were horrendous, but there are good people here—people who are more than the accusations that overtook them. If you allow it, we shall drop this matter and move on.”

Murmurs filtered through the crowd. Faith suspected a great many would have delighted in seeing the Abbots brought on charges, but her words had been sincere. It was time to forgive.

Nathanial turned to the magistrate and shook his hand. “Thank you for your time, sir.”

“And thou. These were important steps for thy both.”

“Indeed you are right.”

Faith did not wait for further resolution. The enormity of what she had done hit her with force, and her feet could not move her fast enough away from the crowd. Taking such a risk was foolish, but someone had to be the first to forgive. She could not bear for the hatred to continue.

Nor could she bear the lingering memory of the cold look in Nathanial’s eyes when he had spoken to her before addressing the crowd. He had been warm enough in front of their audience, but she could not forget he was schooled in appearances. His trade was one of shaping influence, and though her heart was on his side, she would be foolish to trust blindly.

Nathanial did not leave her to wonder long. He caught her easily, for she was but a few strides away when he captured her arm. “Faith, please wait.”

“What is it?” she asked. She kept walking away from the crowd and he matched her stride for stride.

“I want to apologize.”

Several yards from the nearest neighbor, she stopped and turned toward him. He had softened, and she wondered whether his earlier coldness had come from a place of anxiety. Did he worry for her, or for his cause? “For what?” she asked. “It seems you made a rather grand gesture out there.”

“As did you,” he said softly. “I want you to know that was not for show. I would have followed through.”

“I believe you,” she admitted. “You have shown little propensity for posturing.”

“While I am grateful you are of that opinion, the fact remains that I withheld dire news from you—news you had every right to know. But please know it was not my intention to deceive you about the status of your agreement with the elder Burton, but rather to protect you from additional worry.”

She crossed her arms in defiance of the warmth spreading through her. “I do not need your protection, Nathanial.”

“I am growing more aware of that each day,” he said with a smile. “But you are deserving of my honesty. Trust is something to be earned, and I am afraid I may have made that difficult for you.”

She could only nod. Her anger had faded, but wariness lingered.

He touched her cheek, his gentle caress nearly undoing her. “I do not want you to suffer in doubts. There has been far too much uncertainty. I want a new beginning for you. A good one.”

“I have one. Mother and Miles are to marry and I am welcome in their home.”

His eyes widened, his face lighting. “Joyous news, indeed. As for you and I…”

She swallowed. She wanted nothing more than to return to his arms, but she would be foolish to trust blindly, no matter how her heart begged otherwise. “As you stated, trust needs to be earned.”

“And I will grant you every day needed. Every day of my life, if you will allow it. In the meantime, I have something more to offer.”

“More? You cannot possibly—”

“I have purchased the hill that sits so close to the stars. We can build a home, Faith, and your mother will be nearby. And the house and property will be yours. No matter how you feel about me, you will be secure in knowing your home cannot be taken from you.”

Though her heart made tremendous somersaults at the idea of such a security, the gesture was an empty one. Was this a ploy to gain her favor? Hope slumped. “That is a nice thought, but the security you promise is an empty kindness. If there was ever a dispute, I would not be awarded property that is rightfully yours.”

“Then I will draw documents stating you are to retain the right to occupy it for the whole of your life. I will ask the governor himself to witness my signature to ensure it will stand valid.”

She opened her mouth to remind him a woman could not sign a contract, but he held up a hand, silencing her.

He spoke as if he knew precisely of her concern. “Worry not of your status, for my written declaration will bind me. But, Faith, this is not a worry you will ever face. I give you my word, and I only seek to erase any doubts you harbor.”

“You cannot—”

He pressed a finger to her lips, leaning dangerously close to kissing her. “I can. My wealth means far less to me than my integrity, and despite my missteps—or perhaps because of them—I have come to realize nothing means more to me than your love and the value of my word. Nothing else matters—certainly not the location of my home. I only wish to share it with you.”

His face blurred behind her tears, but she managed a wobbly smile. “None of this is necessary. I believe you.”

“Then let me do it anyway. What harm will come of it?” With his back to the gathering of neighbors, he dared press a kiss to her fingers. “I am yours.”

“And I yours,” she managed to whisper, though she was wholly overcome.

He grinned. “That you will be,” he said in low tones. “As soon as we find a bed sturdy enough.”

She flushed hot. “Nathanial!”

Blue eyes sparkled. “
Shh
, little one. You will be calling out my name soon enough.”

An approaching neighbor deprived her of the chance to respond, though her heated face certainly spoke well enough for her. She nodded in his direction, and when Nathanial turned to greet him, she quickly wiped the moisture from her eyes.

The men shook hands. “You made a brave statement,” the other man said. “And perhaps a foolish one. All the more reason to shake your hand. That, and it seems you were the one to put that Burton lad in his place.”

“That was very much my pleasure,” Nathanial said with a laugh.

“He is off on quite a tirade. Few are bothering to hide their amusement, though I feel it fair to warn you he does not speak highly of your wife.”

“I suppose, then, we should go see what more he has to say.” Nathanial nodded his thanks, then gestured for Faith to walk alongside him.

They neared Jeremiah, finding he indeed continued to scream profanities, and her name was at the center of them. Their approach did affect his tirade.

Nathanial wasted no time in admonishing him. “Watch your tongue, for that is my wife’s name you defame.”

With both eyes blackened, Jeremiah looked every bit the devil. “Your wife is a
whore
. She promised herself to me.”

“You decided that yourself,” Faith said.

“Get out,” Jeremiah spat. “Out of the house now.”

“You are hardly in a position to negotiate,” Nathanial said mildly. “But rest assured there will be no more intrusions on your father’s property. It will be vacated before you are released, and I will even personally stop by to ensure your father knows your fate.”

“That is an excellent idea,” Faith said. “I am sure Jeremiah would not want him to worry.”

“Indeed. And if the Goodman wishes to see his son in this state, I will even arrange for a wagon so he can make the trip despite his reduced state of health.”

Jeremiah opened his mouth—no doubt to release another round of obscenities—but he was silenced when a mash of rotten food hit him in the face.