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Hannah Miller may have been spared the gallows, but she would never again be able to truly be part of Union again. Her nightmares were still of the angry faces of the people she’d known all her life, turning against her and her beloved because of the word of a man Sarah Fier had publicly scorned. Anyone could have spoken out to say so, to save her, but no one would. Only Sarah had had mercy on the pastor’s daughter, and no one had mercy on her beloved. The best she and their true friends had been able to do was to give Sarah a burial away from that horrible tree.
At first people had given her space ‘to recover from Sarah’s magic’, but the whole town was still wary of her. All of them had so easily believed her to be working for the devil, and none could truly shake that fear even now. All too soon, the pressure began- to take a husband, to start a family, to prove herself a true godly member of the community. Her mother was half frantic with it. She wanted to bury ‘that nightmare’ so thoroughly that even she didn’t remember that horrible day.
Hannah… couldn’t. She could not attend church without remembering the eyeless bodies in the pews, her father’s corpse at the pulpit. She could not look at the men of the town without remembering how that one had held her down, that one had sworn he’d seen her Sarah cavorting with the devil, those had chained her wrists and told her they looked forward to her dancing in the air. How could she marry anyone who had done those horrible things, even if she wasn’t mourning her truest love?
She had to leave. It seemed so simple when she decided on it, but the details… well, they were more complicated. She wasn’t a native, able to sleep in a hut made out of skins, and she didn’t have any knowledge of how to hunt or build a house or even basic medicine. She could garden, she supposed, and as for the rest… Well, the Widow’s house was empty now. The Widow had books on healing and a sturdy (if small) home, as well as a garden by the house. If she went there, she might even be able to look into what had happened to Union that had turned everything so ugly.
It was early one morning, the sun barely starting to light up the sky, that Hannah Miller set out from her family home with all her possessions and some food from the larder to sustain her until she could assess what she would need to feed herself and get it. She tried her best to think it all through, to consider all the angles as Sarah would have. Sarah had always been the practical one, the one who knew how to tie a knot, deliver a baby, butcher a pig, and seemingly anything else that needed doing. Hannah… well, she could cook and clean and garden, as expected of a god fearing future wife, but she had never had the freedom to learn much of anything else. But she would do it. She knew if she paid attention, Sarah would show her the way.
The sun was almost properly risen when Hannah found what she hoped would be her new home. She wasted no time investigating, and was pleased with what she found.The Widow’s home was a bit messier than it had been in life, and Hannah could see a couple of sparrows nesting in the ceiling, but even with the blood it would not be hard to clean. Even better, Hannah found a good deal of firewood dried and waiting by the hearth, jam, pickles, and tea in the kitchen, and the garden was still mostly intact as far as she could tell. There was a chicken coop next to it, and while it was empty she was reasonably certain she could bargain for a couple laying hens back in town. They wouldn’t trust her, but the folks in town would still need their remedies and want their special berries. She would just have to go through the Widow’s books to learn how to do those things and thank her father for insisting she learn to read. He’d intended her to read the bible to her future children, but under the circumstances she hoped he would not judge her too harshly from wherever he’d ended up.
To start, she found the Widow’s broom and swept out the house, putting things back on shelves as she went. It was oddly soothing, like she was making the house hers with every stroke of the broom. She could feel the burdens of Union fading from her shoulders as she did. Feeling lighter than she had in months, she started to sing quietly to herself- only to stop halfway through the first line of the song when a clatter from the garden caught her attention.
Still clutching the broom, Hannah opened the door and went to see what the fuss was about, half expecting a raccoon or escaped goat. Instead, she found Solomon Goode, looking every bit as surprised as she felt.
“What are you doing here?” Hannah asked sharply. She had never been able to trust the man again after he delivered Sarah to her execution.
“I came to see if there were still any chickens that might need feeding and a home that wasn’t abandoned.” Solomon replied with a wry smile. “What are you doing here, Pastor’s daughter?”
Hannah took a breath. “I’m moving in.” She told him sharply, then added in an almost apologetic tone “And the chickens are long gone, I’m afraid. It’s a shame, I would’ve appreciated the eggs.”
“You’re… moving into the Widow’s house?” Goode repeated, clearly perplexed. “Why would you do a thing like that?”
“No one else was using it, and I needed to get away. Perhaps you can understand that. You did much the same.”
“Aye, I did, with a wife to help and my own strong arms to get things going. Are you sure you can manage out here by yourself? Sarah would never forgive me if I let something happen to you.”
“What do you care what Sarah thinks of you?” Hannah snapped, glaring. “You saw her to her death, even though you knew her better than anyone.”
Solomon sighed and looked away. “She asked me to. All she wanted was to save you, and time was almost up. She didn’t think they’d believe her if she turned herself in, but if a respectable man brought her in, she could clear your name.”
Hannah didn’t want to believe him, but the pain in his voice and the fact that it was exactly the sort of plan she would’ve expected Sarah to come up with made her consider it. “I would have happily died for her.” She retorted, beyond caring what people thought of her when she said such things.
“She knew that. She was also adamant that you not be allowed to do so.” He shook his head sadly. “Her brother was dead, her father couldn’t bear to look at her. She knew you’d have more of a life left than she would have. I tried to talk her out of it, but you know how stubborn she always was.”
“Would I?” She asked, shaking her head. She didn’t know whether or not she should trust Solomon, but she couldn’t afford to alienate her only neighbor. “That was optimistic of her.”
“Perhaps so.” Solomon agreed. “But she believed in you, and so, I suppose, do I. We’re neighbors now, don’t be a stranger. If you need any help getting set up, you need only ask. I promised her I would take care of you if I could.”
“I’ll… keep it in mind.” Hannah promised, refusing to make a decision on whether or not she believed him while he was still there. “But for the moment I’m doing well. Thank you.”
“As you say, then. But don’t stand on your pride if you ever do need help.”
“I won’t.” Hannah assured him, then hesitantly added. “And if you have a hen you’d be willing to trade me for eggs, please let me know.”
“Oh, of course! I get more eggs than I need for just myself. I’ll bring one by tomorrow, if you wouldn’t mind me taking a few herbs from your garden to keep on hand for emergencies?”
Hannah glanced around the garden. “I think that seems reasonable. Thank you in advance for the chicken.”
Solomon nodded. “I could do nothing less.”
“Go ahead and take your herbs, I’m going to get back to cleaning the cabin.” Hannah told him awkwardly, shuffling back toward the door.
“Of course. I don’t mean to keep you.” Solomon nodded and turned to the plants.
Hannah retreated inside with a sigh and went back to sweeping, keeping an eye on him through the window as he carefully found specific plants she didn’t recognize and removed a few leaves or berries from each. If he wanted them for emergencies, they were likely medicinal, and she could learn from his choices.
The rest of her day went peacefully, with Hannah cleaning the cottage and getting familiar with its contents, enjoying the peaceful solitude. The Widow seemed to be a fan of keeping things tidy and everything safely kept on shelves or hooks, so by sunset Hannah was able to light a candle and sit down with a book labeled ‘herbarium’ that had a variety of pressed plants within, all labeled neatly with their names and uses. Many of them she recognized from her mother’s garden, but the Widow’s book would add information such as ‘restores monthly bleeding’ and ‘eases a racing heart’.
Some, however, were new to her. The berries they’d retrieved in happier times were in there, listed as ‘opening the mind and easing hurts of the soul’, which Hannah did not understand even though she’d had one. Others were even more opaque, such as an odd leaf listed as ‘deadly poisonous but useful in specific interventions’ and one listed as ‘fending off suspicion and evil.’
She memorized those to avoid them until she could understand the proper usage, but with the help of the book she was able to make herself a rough but delicious meal from the garden, with some bread and cheese from her pack.
In the morning she took the herbarium to the garden to more thoroughly review her new garden. She wanted to know what exactly she had growing and where it all was, in case she needed to find something quickly. Out of curiosity, as she went, she tried to identify what Solomon had picked. It did not take long for her to regret that curiosity.
None of the plants he’d picked were listed as particularly useful medically. The one listed as ‘poisonous but occasionally useful’ was among them, as was one listed as ‘easing the way to heaven’ and several listed as useful primarily for ‘esoteric interventions’. Hannah double and triple checked all of them, before concluding that either she had not properly seen what he’d picked or she needed to avoid him at all costs.
“Hannah?” Solomon called from the gate, holding a fat hen in one hand. “I brought you your chicken.”
“Oh! Solomon.” Hannah shut her book and turned to smile at him. “Thank you. An egg in the morning will be a welcome thing.”
Solomon nodded. “Getting to know your garden?” He asked, nodding at Hannah kneeling in the dirt.
“Yes, the Widow left behind a book with information about all of her plants and what they’re used for, and I thought that’d be a good way to start.” Hannah replied, holding up the book.
“That sounds like a useful book. I imagine she left behind plenty of useful things.” Solomon replied, eyeing the book with interest. “Should I just pop this lady in the coop for you?”
“Oh, yes please. Thank you.” Hannah stood up, careful of the book, and brushed off her skirts. “I really do appreciate your help.”
“It’s nothing, truly. I promised to look out for you.” Solomon assured her, putting the hen away.
Hannah nodded, blinking back tears. “I… Solomon, speaking of looking out for people… are you sure you got the right herbs? There’s some really nasty herbs mixed in with all of this, and one bit of leaf can look very much like another.”
Solomon straightened up, clearly surprised, then smiled sheepishly. “I thought I knew what I was getting but if you wouldn’t mind helping me out, I’d hate to poison myself when I’m just looking for something for a sour stomach.”
“Oh, of course.” Hannah replied, relieved. “Here, let’s look through the book for what you need. You said you wanted something for your stomach?
“Oh, yes, just the usual remedies, really. Something for a headache, something for a sour stomach, something to keep a wound from going bad, the sort of things a man alone ought to have on hand.”
Hannah nodded. “Over here then, most of the basics seem to be in this corner.”
Solomon followed her, but Hannah didn’t fail to notice Solomon pocketing some more of the poisonous herbs she’d thought he’d picked before. Her blood went cold, but she didn’t dare let on she saw, instead using the book to guide him to the herbs he’d requested and conveying what the book said about how best to use them.
Solomon paid close attention, but Hannah was not fooled anymore. She’d seen that one incriminating grab, and the implications of it were… concerning.
Once Solomon was on his way with his herbs, Hannah retreated indoors to consult some of the Widow’s other books for some idea of what he might be up to. Perhaps it was paranoid, but he was clearly willing to lie and deliberately keep poison in his home- and how did he even know what those herbs were to want them?
The books were not reassuring. At best, Solomon was preparing to poison people. At worst… Well, it seemed a lot of wickedness could be done by someone willing to risk damnation to dabble in witchcraft. And there was still clearly a witch running around, as neither Hannah nor Sarah had ever been guilty of all of the bizarre and horrific things attributed to them.
Could Solomon Goode, respected brother of the Alderman, be the witch who had destroyed the town? And if he were, what could the disgraced Hannah Miller do against him? What could the witch who had destroyed her life do against her in retaliation? Would she live her entire life on a knife’s edge?
There was a knock on the door that jolted her out of her thoughts, and she hurried to put the books aside before answering. Half expecting Solomon again, on some dire errand, she was greeted instead by her mother, looking furious and disheveled by the walk.
“How
dare
you throw away your life like this?” Her mother snapped, not even bothering to say hello. “Our reputation was just starting to recover and now you have shamed me all over again.”
Hannah sighed. “Hello Mother. Would you like some tea?”
“I’ll not step foot in your den of sin.” She spat. “Come home with me at once and we can say you merely got lost in the woods.”
“No, Mother.” Hannah told her firmly. “There’s a bench in the garden, will you sit and talk with me?”
Her mother’s eyes bulged, anger flaring at Hannah for daring to argue with her, but then she deflated. “Fine, let us speak in God’s open air.”
Hannah smiled and led her mother to the bench under the shade of an old apple tree. “I had never truly appreciated the beauty of this country God has granted us until I came out here.”
“Don’t you play pious with me, running off to live in the middle of nowhere without a word and without so much as a good Christian husband to settle with you. And choosing this god forsaken witch’s cottage!” She gestured angrily. “You shame your father doing this.”
“Father would have understood that I could not stay in Union surrounded by people who wanted me dead.” Hannah replied quietly. “I could not look at anyone in town without remembering. I had to get away.”
“You cannot just go away on your own. You, an unmarried woman. Heathens or Frenchmen might show up and take advantage of your gentleness. Some element of the Widow’s wickedness might be left here to tempt you. It’s not safe for a decent woman on her own.”
“I have a garden with a bounty of food, I have a strong sturdy door to keep dangers at bay, and I even have a chicken for some eggs. And Father always said that a truly godly person cannot be tempted from the path accidentally.”
“Well. Your father was a godly man but… perhaps too godly to understand the true nature of evil. Hannah, you were bespelled less than a year ago to do satanic deeds.”
“I was not bespelled, I was framed.” Hannah snapped. “You always hated Sarah but surely you could see the difference between what happened to poor Father and myself. He was bespelled, I just… fell afoul of jealous men.”
“Be that as it may, any of those jealous men could walk here the same as I did and do all manner of things they would not dare do to a woman within the safety and protection of Union.”
“You and Solomon Goode are the only ones who even know I am here.” Hannah pointed out with a sigh. “Do you think he will take advantage of me?”
Her mother shook her head tiredly. “No, the Goode family are good, God fearing people. Even Solomon, wild as he is, would no more harm an innocent woman than he would cut off his own hand.”
“I had no idea you thought so highly of me, Mistress Miller.” Solomon said, stepping around the tree with a sheepish expression. “My apologies for overhearing, I merely came by to retrieve my pocket knife. I seem to have dropped it when I brought that hen earlier today.”
Hannah froze for a moment, but she had to maintain the illusion that she was safe out here, and that she did not suspect Solomon of being the witch. “Oh, of course. Go ahead and have a look around in the garden.”
Hannah’s mother glanced between Solomon and Hannah, a slow smile growing on her face. “Oh, is this the way of it? Very well, then. Hannah, you might have told me you intended to marry Goode. If you wish to stay out here in the woods in the meantime, I suppose I can trust him to guard you.”
Solomon glanced back, halfway knelt on the ground in search of his knife. “I… I would be honored, Mistress Miller. Hannah is truly a godly, hardworking woman.”
Hannah’s eyes widened, but what could she say? If she declined, her mother would likely drag her back to town and force her to marry someone who would not even pretend to kindness. And… if she agreed, she would be allowed to stay out here, away from town. She might even be able to really find the truth. “I… had not wished to assume. But he was always kind to Sarah, in happier days. And… he did not put me in chains or search me for a witch’s mark as the men of town did.”
“Very well. Solomon Goode, may I trust you to take care of my daughter and not dishonor her before she is ready to marry?”
Solomon nodded seriously. “I will do everything in my power to take care of her and keep her safe. You have my word.”
“I suppose it’s settled, then.” Hannah’s mother nodded decisively. “I will let those in town know you are visiting relatives back east for a bit of fresh air before you marry Solomon. If it is known you are doing your duty, no one will begrudge you a bit of time to yourself.”
“I… will appreciate the time to myself.” Hannah replied slowly, nodding at Solomon and her mother.
“I am certain we have much to discuss, Mistress Miller, but would you allow us some time to ourselves to discuss the practicalities?” Solomon asked politely.
“Oh, of course. You know where to find me to discuss the wedding.” Hannah’s mother smiled at them before standing up, brushing off her skirts, and heading back to town.
Hannah stared at Solomon, uncertain of what he wanted and not sure what to say.
“I know about you and Sarah,” Solomon told her quietly. “I don’t expect to replace her in your affections. But I feel we could both do much worse than marry to be together in our grief and desire to start afresh.”
“I… suppose you are not wrong.” Hannah replied cautiously. “I will need more time to grieve on my own. To… learn to trust people again.”
“And I will do everything I can to give you that space and be someone you can trust.” Solomon assured her, plucking something out of the dirt and dusting it off. “And I do apologize for springing this on you. I thought it prudent to offer, under the circumstances.”
“Did you truly lose your knife here?” Hannah asked, unable to help herself. “I hadn’t noticed it.”
Solomon held up a small knife in a leather sheath. “Looks like it fell straight off of my belt.”
“I suppose it’s a blessing it did, my mother might have dragged me back to town by my ear if you hadn’t showed up.” Hannah had not seen the knife on him that morning, and she idly wondered what he’d truly wanted from her. She knew better than to ask, however. He had to believe she trusted him, if she ever wanted to be safe.
“I worried that she might try something of the kind,” Solomon agreed with a wry smile. “But you’ll be safe with me. I promise, as my wife, I will never let anyone else hurt you.”
He probably didn’t mean it that way, but Hannah couldn’t help but notice that he had not promised never to harm her himself. “Mother means well.” Hannah replied with a sigh.
“As did most of the people in town. Meaning well is no guarantee they cannot harm another.”
“As you’d know from experience?” Hannah retorted without thinking. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”
“No, you’re not wrong. A man does not get to where I am in life without doing harm, even with the best intentions. But… I believe things are changing, Hannah Miller. God has blessed me with a bountiful harvest for the first time since I built my home out here. I can support myself and a family. I can take the opportunity to share my good fortune and make amends for the harm I have done.”
He looked her directly in the eyes, and Hannah could see what looked to be genuine guilt. She did not trust it. He could be acting, he could be lying, he could be that guilty without having any intention of changing.
“Solomon, may I… ask you a difficult question? You might be the only one who knows what happened. You were the last one to talk to her.”
His face set in what might have been pain or might have been rage. “If I can provide you some closure, I will happily do so.”
Hannah took a deep breath. “What happened to her hand? I don’t think many people noticed, but when you brought her to the tree, she’d lost a hand.”
Solomon was silent for a long moment, turning his knife over in his hands. “She didn’t give me any details. She’d had to fight someone off, that’s all I know.”
Something about his response told Hannah all she really needed to know. Was Sarah’s lost hand a part of some dark ritual, or merely lost in a fight with the man she’d thought she could trust? Her heart raced, but she did not dare react. “I hate how much she suffered,” Hannah replied instead. “I thank god she had a friend like you to turn to, even if she could not be saved.”
But she knew better now. Even if he meant her no harm in marriage…Solomon Goode had taken the hand of the love of her life.