#Excerpt 5 - From Across the Sea

Before long, it was the Giving Season. I found myself in the hallway a few days before the holiday, washing down the walls. Faith did not like the way I did it the first time, and demanded it be done again.

Daniel had been watching me from the doorway. “I have some good news about your mother.” When I did not respond, he added, “Did you know that we sent a King’s ransom to Ploum to help her?”

“That’s nice,” I replied, eying the cool stone critically.

“It’s been some weeks, but we think your mother might be freed.”

“Do you think she’ll like how clean the walls are?”

“What?” Daniel shook his head and laughed. “What are you talking about?”

I ignored him and concentrated on the space in front of me. I did not think Momma would approve. I rubbed harder and did not hear a portion of Daniel’s story. It was something about getting Momma home with the riches Poppa sent to the capital. What caught my attention was Poppa being mocked for Momma being accused of a witch. Daniel said that it was because Poppa did not have more than one surviving daughter. People thought it was a sign of disfavor from God.

My cheeks turned red and hot, but I kept working. And I killed my brother.

Daniel did not notice that I dodged the question. “That means she is not a witch.”

What do you understand? Momma is a witch!

“That is not what Father Flemming said.” I jumped down and stormed away with my wet rag and bucket. I found a new spot to wash. “He said I was not marrying you. That this house is going to a man with the Ronald name.”

“What? No!” Daniel followed me. “I promise, Victoria, that is not happening. Your Poppa and mine made sure of it. Nothing can break our marriage contract.”

I stopped. “How? Father Flemming speaks for God.”

I saw the worry on Daniel’s face. He reiterated that his father had everything under control. When I started to admit everything that happened between me and Father Flemming, Daniel kissed me on the mouth and told me that he would still marry me, witch or not. I was his only love, he vowed, and we would live here with our children. Our son would inherit, and we would die here in peace.

I listened to every word with rapt attention, and my imagination took flight.

Right there, in his arms, I imagined that Daniel would ride on a horse, a knight saving me. He would vanquish my enemies and grab me so that we could marry. Momma and Poppa and Uncle Joshua and Tante Theresa would be safe and happy again. We would be blessed!

But the worry about being a witch did not fade away.

It grew worse, gnawing at me until I tried hiding in my bed.

Faith chased after me, frustrated. After she pulled me out, I was so nervous, especially when I picked up the feather duster or a broom. Every time I was clumsy and tripped, my cousin sighed. Her patience only went so far, though.

When I became too slow with the chores, Faith began whipping the back of my legs with a switch to keep me moving. I worried that Faith knew of my sins and stopped loving me because of it and that was why she used the branch on me.

Worse, Poppa did not decrease his visits to church. The numerous trips made me feel anxious and sad and I could not focus on praying to God. Father Flemming was always eyeing me. I wondered if he told Poppa and Grandsire what he said to me.

The next night, about to say my evening prayers with Faith, I had enough. Momma was gone. Nobody could tell me more than what Daniel did. Poppa and Grandsire no longer paid attention to me. I was accused of being the child of a witch by a priest. Faith was growing to hate me because I was not being good. God no longer loved me.

It was too much for me.

Despondent, I wailed loudly in my bed.

What was the point? God hates us. We are all going to die soon and go to hell.

“I want Poppa!” I cried out again and again, kicking and punching Faith wildly. “I want Poppa!”

Faith was shocked by my behavior, unsure of what to do. Shaking, she rushed out of the nursery. A few minutes later, I heard stomping up the stairs. It stopped in the doorway and immediately melted into soft footsteps. Poppa sat on my bed and held me in his arms.

“What is it, Victoria?” he asked kindly.

Embarrassed, I tried pretending that nothing was wrong. Then, I told Poppa that I missed Momma very much. After an awkward silence, that wicked name came to mind.

Witch.

“Am I a witch too?” I finally asked him.

Poppa was completely taken away by my question. He eventually told me that God loved me and that He knew that I loved Him. Poppa waited for me to tell him more, so I told him about how priests always spoke God’s Word. When Poppa grew impatient, the words came out faster.

“Father Flemming said that I am going to hell!” I cried out.

Poppa was shocked.

Before he could react, I told him a jumble of words about the Confession with Father Flemming. “He said that I was just a useless girl. I was not going to inherit. Another man was going to take me away and make me have his babies forever. I will not be with Daniel!”

I cried, falling into Poppa’s shoulder, miserable. I could not speak and choked out slime from my nose and mouth, spitting it on his shirt. And for some reason, Poppa did not care. He was soft, petting my hair and telling me that it was going to be all right in the end. He told me that he was going to fix this mess and bring Momma home, innocent of all charges of witchcraft. He reassured me that I was no witch, and a good child of God. He could find no daughter better than I was.

As I fell asleep to his words, I realized that the powerful used the weak shamelessly.

From that moment on, I couldn’t fully trust anyone.