American Girl

Massachusetts

Massachusetts

The snap of a branch, followed by an owl hoot, made Pheobe Lowell jump in her skin. Every sudden noise unnerved her. In the chimney corner, Granny Nell rocked placidly. Nothing disturbed the older woman, although Pheobe worried about her. If the townspeople came, they would take Granny away with them.

Granny Nell was the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. That fact was significant in itself. She knew about herbs, and, in the kettle in the clearing, she created potions. Young village girls came to her for love charms and elixirs to either help make them pregnant or get rid of an unwanted fetus. The old woman also acted as a healer and a midwife.

Pheobe lived with Granny Nell in the small cottage deep in the woods. Her mama died giving birth to her, and she never knew her father. Granny shook her head when she asked about her parents, reluctant to speak about them. Nevertheless, Pheobe knew her mother had never married her father.

A stigma lay heavily upon the old woman and her granddaughter. When they walked into the village of Commonwood, eyes followed them, and they heard whispers behind their backs. The gossip became fiercer following the trouble in Salem. A frenzy brewed against witches. Pheobe waited expectantly for the frenzy to become a panic.

"I won't let them take you, Granny," Pheobe declared, breaking the silence. "I'll find a way to stop them. They can't take you away."

"Hush, child," her grandmother admonished. "Fate will decide." Pressing her foot against the floor, she pushed her rocking chair back and forth.

The old woman was far from beautiful. Her long nose hooked on the end and a large wart grew at the bottom of her chin. Crooked teeth lay behind dry, cracked gums. She habitually wore a black worsted dress that covered her body from neck to feet. A white lace shawl covered her frail shoulders. Her unkempt hair was gray and straggly. Pheobe loved her, nonetheless.

Rising, the young girl walked briskly toward her grandmother. Sinking to her knees, she buried her head in the ample lap. Pheobe tried not to cry, but she couldn't help herself.

"There, there, child," Granny crooned softly. She smoothed Pheobe's hair with gnarled hands. "Whatever will be, will be."

"How can you remain so calm?" the girl asked, tears glistening in her blue eyes. "I've heard them talk in the village. They say you're a witch. They'll swim you, then they'll hang you."

Pheobe swallowed hard. The practice of 'swimming' to prove a person a witch was abhorrent to her. Closing her eyes, she pictured the dunking stool beside the village pond. She knew Granny Nell would float, proving her a witch. She was the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. That meant she had the devil's power in her.

"They will do what they want, child," Granny Nell stated stoically. "I'm an old woman. I've lived a long life."

"And you will live much longer, Granny," Pheobe remarked, grasping the old woman's hands. "You've done well here. Many people call you before they go to Doc Pritchard. They trust you more than they do him."

"Aye, tis so." Granny Nell's eyes stared above her granddaughter's head.

People didn't trust the new doctor and his newfangled ways. They wanted a true healer. If it wasn't for the trouble in Salem, they would continue to come to her to cure their ailments. However, the panic continued to spread. Witch hunters roamed the countryside, and the villagers were eager to point out potential necromancers. Granny Nell fell into that category. They would come for her, dunk her, and try her in a kangaroo court. Pheobe knew her beloved Granny would swing from the gallows without a fair trial.

A branch snapped closer to the house. Pheobe stared at the door, waiting for it to swing open. The villagers would gather in the dooryard, holding up torches. They would arrest Granny and set the cottage ablaze. The old owl hooted again, and an eerie silence fell.