Page 86 of Wildwood

They led me to a platform, which stood under a limb, on which three nooses were hung.

“Lydia Abington, you have committed the carnal sin. You have lain outside of the marital bed. The good people of Newfield understand that we are all here by the mercy of God. And we know that devils, like hungry lions, await their prey, await the moment God draws back his hand. We know we must purge this town of those who sin most grievously. Therefore, following the ancient traditions, practiced by those with no tolerance of sin, we sentence you, Lydia Abington, the deceased David Clark, and both your families to kinship punishment.”

If you are like I was, you have never heard of this practice, never pondered why it would be used, what evil person could even conceive of such a thing. But I’ve had centuries to think about it. The preacher claimed it would be the one punishment that would eliminate all ungodly acts and make us good again. But I know it wasn’t intended to create good people. It was intended to create obedient people.

I stood there, stupidly, looking from face to face, waiting for someone to tell me what was happening. But no explanation came. Instead, the crowd parted, and from the back, my husband, James, and David’s pregnant widow were led to the platform. It was then I realized.

I screamed. I thrashed. Hate poured out of me like blood. They slipped the noose around my neck. They slipped the noose around James’s and Rachel’s necks. The rope was rough. I remember that too. James looked at me, imploring me to look back at him.

“Look at me,” he was saying. “Look at me.”

His words sounded like they were from under water. They sounded far away. For a moment, I thought he was saying it to me for the same reason that I’d searched for him in the crowd. So that we’d hold each other’s faces in our minds as we left this world. This thought made me realize that our son would be orphaned. Who would look after him?

“Where’s Elias?” I asked, quietly at first, as though the only person who should know the answer to that was me or James.

James wouldn’t answer.

“Just look at me,” he implored.

“WHERE is Elias?” I asked louder now, eyes scanning the crowd. “Where is my son??”

The whole village was gathered before the three of us at the tree. Four, counting the baby inside Rachel’s belly. Where was Elias?

“Don’t worry, Lydia.” The voice seemed to slither its way around my neck, choking me more than the noose itself.

The preacher stepped forward. He was slightly hunched in his black cassock, leaning over so that he could caress the face of my baby. My Elias.

“Don’t worry, Lydia. Elias will be a child of God now. He’ll forsake the evil ways of his mother and he will be saved.”

“He’ll live with me, Lydia,” said William Bishop, stepping forward as well. “And we’ll make sure he never learns of his wicked origins. He’ll never know his mother was the witch Lydia Abington.”

And then the preacher stroked one pale finger across Elias’s cheek, curled over him like a serpent about to strike, and I felt every nerve in my body explode with rage.

“No. No. NO. Do not let him take my son!”

No one would look up at me. They refused to look at what they had sanctioned to save their own skins.

“Don’t let William Bishop take my boy, or I’ll curse you all. I’ll curse you all!”

And then the preacher nodded, and the noose tightened, and everything went black and those four words echoed through the woods.

I’ll curse you all.

Chapter 76

There is a pounding from below. I’m standing in the middle of The Forest of the Dead. The sheets and blankets are strewn across the floor. I am soaked with sweat. When I saw the preacher, my body convulsed, ripped itself from the dreamworld. The bent crooked figure. The serpentlike smile. I tore the blankets off because the feeling of anything else was too much to bear. It was as though every nerve in my body that was capable of feeling anguish was lit on fire all at once.

The pounding continues. I hear someone calling my name. It must be Joan. I step cautiously toward the door. The sleep medication is still strong in my system. My vision is strange and blurry and tilt-y, but I stagger my way down the hall, gripping the banisters. I have to tell her what I’ve discovered.

But when I fling open the door, it’s not Joan. It’s Alice.

“Elinor,” she says. “I was just coming by to check on you.”

Check on me why? I realize that I must appear crazed. My hair is matted down with sweat, and I’m sure my face looks drugged.

“Yes. I’m fine,” I mumble. “I was just taking a nap.”

She’s so much taller than I am. And she looks down at me through narrowed eyes, and it feels like she can see right through me.