Acceptable Risk (30 page)

Kim reached into the trunk and lifted out the notebook. After untying the string, she opened the envelope and slid out the letter. Recalling how carefully the Harvard archivists handled the Mather letter, Kim tried to do the same. The aged paper resisted being unfolded. It was a short note. Kim looked at the date and her anticipation lessened. It was from the eighteenth century.

16th April 1726 - Boston

Dearest father,

In response to your query I esteem it to be in the meete interests of the family and the business to forebear transposing mother’s grave to the family plot since the required permit would cause much disquietude in Salem town and awaken the whole affair which you suppressed with great diligence and effort.

Your loving son,Jonathan.

Kim carefully folded the note and replaced it in its envelope. Thirty-four years after the witchcraft affair Ronald and his son were still concerned about its effect on the family despite a public apology and a day of mourning ordered by the colonial government.

Turning her attention to the notebook, whose binding was crumbling, Kim folded back the cloth cover only to have it detach in her hand. Then her heart skipped a beat. On the flyleaf was written: Elizabeth Flanagan, her book, December 1678.

Kim carefully leafed through the book and realized to her utter joy that it was Elizabeth’s diary! The fact that the entries she saw were short and not consecutive didn’t lessen her excitement.

Clasping the book with both hands for fear of its coming apart, Kim hurried over to a dormered window for better light. Starting from the back, she noticed that there were a number of blank pages. Coming to the last entry, Kim noticed that the diary stopped prior to what she would have preferred. The date was Friday 26th February 1692.

There is no end to this cold. More snow on this day. The Wooleston River is now thick with ice-to support a person to the Royal Side. I am much distracted. A sickness has weakened my spirit with cruel fits and convulsions as described by Sarah and Jonathan in like manner as those I have observed with poor Rebecca, Mary, and Joanna and the same that Ann Putnam suffered on her visit.

How have I offended almighty God that he would visit such torments on his dutiful servant? I hath no memory of the fits yet before I see colors that now affright me and hear strange sounds not of this world as I feel as if to faint. On the sudden I am restored to my senses to discover I am on the floor and have thrashed about and said unintelligible mutterings or so have said my children Sarah and Jonathan who, praise the Lord, are still unafflicted. How I wish Ronald be here and not on the high seas. These molestations commenced with the purchase of the Northfields tract and the spiteful quarrel with the Thomas Putnam family. Doctor Griggs is mystified for all and hath purged me to no avail. Such a cruel winter and travail for all. I fear for Job who is so innocent as I fear the Lord seeth to take away my life and my work is not done. I have endeavored to do God’s work in his land to aid the congregation by baking the rye grain to extend our stores taxed by cruel weather and poor harvest, and refugees from Indian raids in the north whom I have encouraged the brethren accept into their hearth as family as I have done with Rebecca Sheafe and Mary Roots. I have taught the older children in the manner of constructing dolls for the surcease of the torment of the orphaned infants whose trust the Lord hath given us. I pray for Ronald’s speedy return to help us with these terrible molestations before the sap runs.

Kim closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was overwhelmed. Now it was truly as if Elizabeth were speaking to her. Kim could feel the force and character of Elizabeth’s personality through her anguish: caring, empathetic,. generous, assertive, and courageous; all the traits Kim wished she had herself.

Kim opened her eyes and reread sections of the entry. She wondered who Job was, or if Job were a biblical reference and not a person. She reread the part about doll-making and wondered again if the evidence that convicted Elizabeth had been a doll rather than a book.

Fearing she might have missed something, Kim reread the entire entry and became impressed with the tragic irony that Elizabeth’s generosity might have caused her to spread the poisonous mold. Perhaps the unspecified evidence somehow proved Elizabeth’s responsibility.

For several minutes Kim stared out the window, pondering this new line of thinking. But try as she might, she couldn’t think of any way Elizabeth could have been implicated. At the time, no way existed to connect the mold with the fits.

Kim looked back at the diary. Carefully, she turned individual pages and glanced at other entries. Most were short: only a few sentences for each day, which included a terse description of the weather.

Kim closed the book and then reopened it from the front. The first entry was 5th December 1678, and was written in a larger, more hesitant script than the last entry fourteen years later. It merely described the day as cold and snowy and gave Elizabeth’s age: thirteen.

Kim closed the book. She wanted to savor the experience. Clutching it to her chest as if it were a treasure, Kim returned to the cottage. Moving a table and a chair to the middle of the room, she sat down. In full view of the portrait she randomly leafed through the pages. On 7 January 1682 Kim found a longer entry.

Elizabeth described the weather as being warm for the season of the year and cloudy. She then matter-of-factly mentioned that she’d been married that day to Ronald Stewart. That short sentence was followed by a long description of the fine carriage she rode from Salem Town. Elizabeth then related her joy and amazement at moving into such a fine house.

Kim smiled. As she read relatively lengthy descriptions of the rooms and their contents she understood that Elizabeth was relating her reactions to moving into the same house Kim was currently moving into. It was a charming coincidence to have found the book on such a day, and it made the three-hundred-year interval that separated Elizabeth and Kim seem suddenly short.

Kim made a quick subtraction and realized that Elizabeth had been only seventeen when she married. Kim could not imagine herself getting married at such an age, especially considering the emotional problems she had during the first few years of college.

Looking ahead in the diary, Kim learned that Elizabeth became pregnant only a few months later. Kim sighed. What would she have done with a child at that age? It was a frightening concept yet obviously Elizabeth had dealt with it admirably. It was also a stark reminder to Kim that birth control had not been available to Elizabeth, and how little control Elizabeth had over her destiny.

Reversing her direction in the notebook, Kim glanced at entries prior to Elizabeth’s marriage to Ronald. She stopped at another relatively long entry for 10 October 1681. Elizabeth recorded that on that hot, sunny day her father returned from Salem Town with an offer of marriage. Elizabeth went on to write:

I was at first troubled in spirit at such a strange affair since I know nothing of this gentleman yet father speaks well of him. Father says the gentleman espied me in September when he visited our land for purposes of timber for masts and spars for his ships. My father says it is for me to decide but that I should know the gentleman has offered most graciously to move us one and all to Salem Town where my father shall work in his company and my dear sister Rebecca should go to school.

A few pages on Elizabeth wrote:

I have told my father I shall accept the proposal of marriage. How can I not? Providence beckons as we have been living these years on poor land in Andover at constant threat of attack by red savages. Our neighbors on both sides have suffered such grave misfortune and many have been killed or taken captive in a most cruel way. I have tried to explain to William Paterson but he does not understand and I fear that he is now ill disposed toward me.

Kim paused and raised her eyes to Elizabeth’s portrait. She was moved by the realization she was reading the thoughts of a seventeen-year-old selfless girl willing to give up a teenage love and to take a chance with fate for the benefit of her family. Kim sighed and wondered when the last time was she had done something completely unselfish.

Looking back at the diary, Kim searched for a record of Elizabeth’s first meeting with Ronald. She found it on 22 October 1681, a day of sunshine and falling leaves.

I met today in our common room Mr. Ronald Stewart who proposes to be my husband. He is older than I supposed and has already a young daughter from a wife who died with the pox. He appears to be a good man, strong of mind and body albeit a hint of a choleric disposition when he heard that the Polks, our neighbors to the north had been attacked two nights before. He insists we move forthwith in our sundry plans.

Kim felt a twinge of guilt concerning some of her earlier suspicions of Ronald with this revelation of the cause of Ronald’s first wife’s death. Flipping ahead in the diary to 1690, Kim read more about fears of smallpox and Indian raids. Elizabeth wrote that the pox was rampant in Boston and that devastating raids from the red savages were occurring a mere fifty miles north of Salem.

Kim shook her head in awe. Reading about such tribulations brought to mind Edward’s remarks about how tenuous life’s threads were back in the seventeenth century. It had to have been a difficult and stressful life.

The sound of the door banging open startled Kim. She looked up to see Edward and Stanton returning from their visit to the nearly complete lab. Edward was carrying blueprints.

“This place looks as bad as when I left,” Edward said in a disgruntled tone of voice. He was looking for a spot to put down his plans. “What have you been doing, Kim?”

“I’ve had a wonderful bit of luck,” Kim said excitedly. She scraped back her chair and brought the notebook over to Edward. “I found Elizabeth’s diary!”

“Here in the cottage?” Edward asked with surprise.

“No, in the castle,” Kim said.

“I think we should be making more progress getting the house in order before you go back to your paper chase,” Edward said. “You’ll have the whole month to indulge yourself up there.”

“This is something even you will find fascinating,” Kim said, ignoring Edward’s remarks. She carefully opened the notebook to the last entry. Handing it to Edward and indicating the passage, she told him to read.

Edward put his blueprints on the game table Kim had been using. As he read the entry his face gradually changed from vexation to surprised interest.

“You’re right,” he said eagerly. He gave the book to Stanton.

Kim told them both to be more careful with it.

“That will make a great introduction to the article I plan to write for Science or Nature about the scientific causes of the afflictions in the Salem witch trials,” Edward said. “It’s perfect. She even talks specifically about using the rye. And the description of the hallucinations is right on target. Putting that diary entry together with the results of the mass spec on her brain sample closes the case. It’s elegant.”

“You’re not writing an article about the new mold until the patent situation is more secure,” Stanton said. “We’re not about to take any chances so you can amuse yourself with your research colleagues.”

“Of course I won’t,” Edward said. “What do you think I am? An economic two-year-old?”

“You said it, I didn’t,” Stanton said.

Kim took the diary from Stanton and pointed out to Edward the part about Elizabeth teaching others to make dolls. She asked him if he thought that was significant.

“You mean in relation to the missing evidence?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Hard to say,” Edward said. “I suppose it is a little suspicious.... You know, I’m famished. What about you, Stanton? Could you eat something?”

“I can always eat,” Stanton said.

“How about it, Kim?” Edward said. “How about throwing something together. Stanton and I still have a lot to go over.”

“I’m hardly set up for entertaining,” Kim said. She’d not even ventured to glance into the kitchen.

“Then order in,” Edward said. He began unrolling his blueprints. “We’re not picky.”

“Speak for yourself,” Stanton said.

“I suppose I could make some spaghetti,” Kim said as she mentally reviewed what she’d need. The one room that was reasonably organized was the dining room; before the renovation it had been the old kitchen. The dining table and chairs and breakfront were all in place.

“Spaghetti would be perfect,” Edward said. He had Stanton hold the blueprints while he weighted the corners with books.

With a sigh of relief, Kim slipped between her crisp, clean sheets for her first night’s rest in the cottage. From the moment she’d started making the spaghetti to a half hour previously when she’d stepped into the shower, she’d not stopped working. There was still a lot to do, but the house was in reasonable order. Edward had worked equally as hard once Stanton finally left.

Kim lifted Elizabeth’s diary off her night table. She fully intended to read more of it, but as she lay back into her bed, she became aware of the sounds of the night. The most notable was the remarkably loud symphony of nocturnal insects and frogs that inhabited the surrounding forest, marshes, and fields. There were also the gentle creaks from the aged house as it radiated off the heat absorbed during the day. Finally there was the subtle moan of the breeze from the Danvers River wafting through the casement windows.

As her mind calmed, Kim realized that the mild anxiety she’d felt when she’d first arrived at the house that afternoon still lingered. It had merely been overwhelmed by her subsequent intense activity. Although Kim guessed there were several sources of her unease, one was obvious: Edward’s unexpected request to sleep apart. Although she understood his point of view better now than when the subject had first come up, Kim was still disturbed and disappointed.

Putting Elizabeth’s diary aside, Kim climbed back out of bed. Sheba flashed her an exasperated look, since she’d been fast asleep. Kim slipped her feet into her mules and crossed to Edward’s bedroom. His door was slightly ajar and his light was still on. Kim pushed the door open only to be confronted by a deep growl from Buffer. Kim gritted her teeth; she was learning to dislike the ungrateful mutt.