This is a monstrously long chapter, but there really wasn't anywhere else to break it off, so enjoy. We're really getting into an explanation for the Troubles now, and I'd love to hear what you think. This theory was developed before season four started, so none of the William stuff comes into play.
The hospital discharged Audrey first thing in the morning. Instead of going home to rest she insisted on going back to the station. They were in the middle of a case, and even though the damage so far had been to property, not people, she wouldn't risk someone getting hurt while she was out of commission.
So it wasn't until they caught a break two days later that Nathan and Audrey really had time to discuss everything she'd learned.
"Ms. Nightingale said Lucy stole something from her collection," Audrey said, leaning back against the couch and tracing the condensation on her bottle of beer. "A book dated back to the early colony. She must have known it was important, unless she was just a kleptomaniac. But just like Sarah's journal, I don't know what she did with it."
Nathan straightened slightly in his armchair, but his tone remained monotone. "Any chance the book's blank inside?"
Her breath caught. "How did you know that?"
"I know where it is." He said it like they were discussing the weather, not a breakthrough that could help her stay in Haven.
"Where? How?" she demanded.
"My father had a box of Lucy's stuff. I went through it when I was looking for the real Lucy Ripley. There was nothing particularly helpful, but I remember there being an old, empty journal."
"You never told me you had some of Lucy's things."
"At the time I thought I could sift out anything relative. After you talked to Lucy I put it away and forgot."
"Is Sarah's journal there?"
"No. I'm pretty sure I would have realized there was something important about a book that told me I hooked up with your former self in the 1950's." Most of the time she appreciated his dry humor, but she was anxious to hop on this lead and he seemed to be taking his time.
"Let's go to your father's then. Ms. Nightingale seemed to think something was written in the book, most people just couldn't see it. Maybe Lucy stole it because she saw something. Maybe it was meant for me."
"No need."
She slammed her bottle against the coffee table. "Of course there's a need! This could be our best lead yet."
Nathan smirked at her ruffled feathers. "No need to go to Dad's. I didn't want to spend any more time there than necessary. I brought the stuff here. It's up in the attic."
"You mean we've been scouring the town for information on my past and the answers might be right in our house?"
He grinned.
"What?"
"Our house."
She smiled fondly. "That's old news. I've been here for months."
"Still like it."
His earnestness left her flushed, dissolving her exasperation. "I like it too. I'll like it more if we can make it years."
He squeezed her shoulder after he stood. "Stay here. I'll bring the box down."
She paced the living room while she waited. It seemed like an eternity before he returned with a dusty cardboard box with "Lucy" scrawled on one side in the Chief's messy script.
"How did your father end up with some of Lucy's things?"
"I dunno. I didn't find this until after he died. Thought maybe since he knew her he'd have something useful – photographs, letters. Wasn't expecting to find a box with her name on it in one of his closets."
Audrey considered that, remembering the chance she'd had to finally confront Garland about his partnership with Lucy. "I think they were friends. The way he talked about her when he came back…"
"Friends I can deal with. Anything else would be weird."
"Agreed," she said vehemently, shuddering at the thought.
She opened the box and pulled out a couple of sweaters and some boots. "Very eighties," she said with a wrinkled nose.
"They hit hard here in Haven. Mighta been amplified by a Trouble."
"Stop it," she said with a chuckle. There was a black camera bag, and she pulled out a large camera with a telephoto lens and a smaller Polaroid.
"No film in there," Nathan told her. "I already checked."
"There's no way this captured some info on the photos she took, right?"
He frowned at her. "No digital cameras in the eighties. And this is Haven PD, not some federal scientific brain trust. You've been watching too much TV."
"Worth a shot. Maybe we can find someone with some electronic Trouble? They could commune with the camera or something."
"Not your most promising idea, but maybe."
The box was nearly empty by the time she found the book. It was slightly larger than a modern paperback, bound in brown leather. There was something familiar about it as she ran her finger down its spine. She turned it over, expecting to find the cover blank, and was shocked to see the words Prudence White written clearly in handwriting that looked very much like her own. She gasped, nearly dropping the book.
"What? Did you remember something?"
"Do you see this?" she asked, pointing at her name.
"It's the book I mentioned. Probably the one Lucy stole."
"But don't you see what it says?"
"It doesn't say anything."
She opened to a random page which was covered in writing. "What about this?"
"Blank." Nathan scrutinized her. "It's not blank when you look at it, is it?"
"No. The cover says Prudence White. That's my name. It's my handwriting. I think this was my journal."
"So it'll tell us how the Troubles started."
"I think so." The thought of finally getting some answer was staggering. She was sure she wouldn't like most of what she found in there, but if it kept Nathan alive and herself in Haven she could deal with knowing the truth, however dark.
"Are you sure you should read that?"
"I have to! This could be the key to everything that's going on here."
There was nothing left of her monotone man now. "What if you remember? The doctor warned that if you have another episode so soon it could leave permanent damage. Reading that book could kill you. I can't lose you."
"And I can't lose you. But I will, if we don't solve this. This is the best shot we've had yet. I have to take it."
"I hate when you're reckless."
She reached out and grabbed his hand. "When I touched the necklace I remembered right away. But I'm holding this book now and nothing's gone wrong. It feels familiar but I don't remember. And I didn't remember when I read about Eleanor's vision. Maybe it's different when I read something."
"What if it's not?"
"Worse case scenario, I have to go back to the hospital and you can get scolded again by all the nurses for climbing into bed with me. I'm not gonna be taken down by a few returning memories, no matter how old they are. I plan on being around to worry you for a long time."
He kissed her, keeping his hands on her face even after he was through. "If it starts to hurt, I need you to stop, okay? You can come back to it if you need to, just – don't push too hard."
She nodded. "I'm going to take this to my cupcake room. Bunker down there. Could be awhile until I get through this."
He nodded, and she thought he understood. But once she settled in her Adirondack chair she glanced up and saw him standing in the doorway.
"You can't stand there the entire time."
"I could."
"Nathan, I get that you're worried. But I have to do this, and I need some privacy. This room is supposed to be my sanctuary. You promised. I'm saying this with love, but you need to get the hell out."
"Damn it, Audrey. I get that you're stubborn and independent, and I love that about you. But you forget that sometimes someone does need to look after you, especially if you're not willing to do it yourself. I got a call two days ago that your reaction to a memory was so severe you were in the hospital. And thank God Chris was there to take you there. But what if he wasn't? I understand you need to do this. But you need to let me watch out for you if this all goes south. Because if I come down here in a few hours and you're dead on the floor because you sent me away it will destroy me."
"Hey." She set the book on a table and rushed toward him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He was trembling, and she ran her hand up and down his back to sooth him. "Shhhh. I'm sorry."
"Let me sit in here for a couple of minutes, just to see if you have a reaction when you start reading. If you don't I'll go."
"Okay," she conceded, her need to calm him down overriding all else. "You can leave the door open when you go. Peek in on me quietly whenever you want." He nodded, and she disentangled herself. "But don't you dare just sit out there in the hallway. That'd be terrible for your back."
"Wouldn't feel it."
"Not at the time, maybe. But I need you in tip top shape." She leered at him a little, and it broke the seriousness of the moment.
She settled back in the chair, trying to ignore Nathan perched at her desk. She wasn't entirely sure why she'd made such a fuss about him being there. But all her life she'd been used to having space to process anything major, and as much as she loved living with Nathan there were times that it was smothering. This was liable to be one of the most monumental things she'd ever have to process. Although she was going to tell him whatever she found, she wanted time to absorb it first. She didn't need him studying her, trying to interpret every reaction she made. Not to mention he'd be bored to tears.
But it was very practical of him to worry that she might have an episode, and she'd rather wake to his face hovering over her than anyone else's.
As soon as she started reading she forgot about him entirely.
Herein is recorded the private journal of Prudence White. May whoever reads it learn from this sad tale, and remember me with pity instead of hate.
I have lived more years that I have dared to count, most of them with only misery and Henry as company. It is the fear of so many more such years that has driven me to this desperate course. Though my soul protests inviting such violation, the truth is I am already damned. Though God may not forgive me, I am afraid I shall never meet him no matter what I do. I can abide this so called life no longer, and since I am not to be granted the solace of death, I see no other option besides accepting Henry's plan.
I leave this journal as a final testament to my life and its transformation, as it were. Henry tells me no other shall be able to read it. When I was young such statements would seem nonsensical. Now I have witnessed far stranger things. But I can no longer discern whether Henry can be trusted. His mistress is gone, and his affection for me may sway his judgment. But he has sworn to keep me bound, and perhaps he means to dissuade me from leaving clues to some unknown rescuer.
He should know I have given up such hope long ago.
Perhaps I shall be the only one who can read this. If so I hope it never falls into my hands again. There is only misery in these truths, and I shall pay dearly for the chance to forget. But as these memories are soon to be lost from me, I find that I yearn to have them recorded. Tragic as they are, I wish there to be some record of me untainted by Morgan's deceit. My dearest wish is for His descendents to understand I never brought this down upon them willingly.
Strange, as terrible as my life has become, the thought of it being erased entirely saddens me further. So I asked Henry to bring me this journal.
I was born in England in the year of the Lord 1618, the only daughter to Lucy and Matthew White. Father was a cobbler, but he fell on hard times after a fire burned his workshop. Mother went to heaven when I was six years old attempting to give life to my brother, who passed from this world on the same day he arrived. I still remember the look on my father's face when he learned both his wife and his son had left him. His grief manifested as anger, and he told me my childish tears would not be tolerated. All my life I tried to heed his advice, but here in this place I have cried enough tears to fill the ocean that eventually separated us. Turns out he was correct; these tears have helped nothing.
Father was cold and distant once Mother was gone, and though I tried to run his household it was often more than a girl of my age could manage. When I was sixteen a ship set off to the new world to start a colony in Maine, and father indentured me for the money to buy a new shop. Though I have never forgotten the pain and indignity of being valued less than a sack of pounds, I was not upset to leave my father's home. Though the prospect of such a long voyage was frightening, I was intrigued by this new world so many spoke of in whispers in the marketplace. There was nothing for me in England more exciting than churning butter and learning my letters. In Maine the life I built there would be my own, as soon as my seven year indenture was through. The colony was to be called Haven, which seemed like a beautiful promise.
The voyage was dreadful and lonely. I saw families toss loved ones over the side of the ship when sickness claimed them. Heard children cry in the middle of the night as the ship rocked. Stayed up hours each night praying for a safe arrival.
Once we did arrive the place seemed to live up to its name. The first months were hard as homes were built and crops planted, but they were also fulfilling. My indenture was purchased by Robert McKee, a prominent man who was elected governor of the new colony, and I worked beside him and his daughter Morgan to build their new home. Morgan was a few months older than I was, and had also lost her mother. I tried to befriend her, but the matter of our station was always between us. Robert did not like when we acted too chummy. Though there were moments when it seemed Morgan desired a confidant, she was capricious and vain, and six months into my indenture I discovered she could be cruel when displeased. I did my best to follow her commands, but sometime I grew distracted by the wonder of this new place – a flock of deer in the meadow, falling stars streaking across the clear sky, the way the waves would crash against the rocky shoreline.
Robert's prestige meant many townsfolk helped him establish his new home, and were often about the property. One such guest was the local blacksmith. It hurts too much to write His name, nay even think it, so from here I shall refer to Him only by capitalized pronoun.
It was at the McKee's homestead that I was to meet the man who stole my heart and shattered my soul. He came to deliver hinges and nails for its construction, and at first He mistook me for the governor's daughter. I was quick to disavow Him of this notion, but not quick enough. Though I informed Him I was merely a servant, He developed an attachment which flourished into love.
My father had always advised me to be prudent in all aspects of my life. I thought him blinded by grief, but he was right. My imprudence led to ruin, and not only my own, but that of an entire town.
The terms of my indenture stated I could not marry until I was released, but I was swayed by His beautiful promises of a life with Him of freedom and love. We met every day at the beach, and He told me stories that made me laugh and forget. Love crept over me slowly, secretly taking root in my heart and not making itself known until it had bloomed through my entire being, too tied to my very life to ever be pruned out. Even now, after all the pain it caused and the betrayal I can barely speak of, it is impossible for me not to love Him.
He gave me a token and spoke of marriage, but Morgan found out about the betrothal. She confronted me, her lovely face flush with rage. I had never seen her so angry, and I realized she too was fond of the handsome blacksmith. She switched my arms until they bled and locked me in the cellar overnight without a blanket.
By the time Robert released me the following morning, my fingers numb with cold, Ginny Miller couldn't see.
Her vision had darkened in the night, and the doctors could find no explanation. I'd seen Ginny and Morgan stroll around town together, giggling, but she'd never spoken to me. Her vision did not return, and Morgan never visited her.
A week later Betsy Chesterfield woke up with her tongue gone. Not cut out, like she'd been attacked. There was no blood, and no sign in her home of a struggle. Her husband had been asleep beside her. Her tongue was simply gone.
The townspeople started whispering about witches. I tried to avoid such gossip, my father's practical voice telling me there must be a more logical explanation, but no one seemed capable of finding it. There were more incidents. The West homestead burned in the middle of a rainstorm. Marlow's dogs turned feral and killed his family.
When everyone who looked upon Meredith Clark saw their worst fear, the Reverend suggested she should be burned as a witch, and the council agreed. Her family begged for clemency, stating her obvious distress at the situation, saying surely she was bewitched herself and not the caster of any spell. But without any other source, the council decided to purge the colony.
All were invited to the burning. But since none could stand to look upon her, no one witnessed her demise. The governor's home was near the town square, and I could hear her screams. Somehow I knew we had murdered an innocent, but there was no one who would listen to my concerns.
The next morning the entire Meers family was found dead in their home, except for their youngest daughter.
My love assured me that whatever evil had befallen our town would pass, but He grew serious and distant. I dared not meet with Him frequently, because Morgan's mood was foul and I feared her anger.
One evening I heard her cackling about Betsy's misfortune, saying it served the old crone right for the sharp words she would utter at the young girls passing her porch, and a terrible suspicion arose within me. If I listened closely I could hear Morgan leave the house well after midnight. She was gone for hours before she'd return.
I tried to convince myself that perhaps she had a secret suitor; as wicked as it was, I had sometimes considered slipping off to meet my betrothed by moonlight. But Morgan did not act as one besotted by love. Her cruelty had sharpened as of late and even her father seemed to notice, reprimanding her in a way he'd never dared before.
One evening I followed her. I sometimes wonder if my life would have taken a different course if I had not, but the curiosity was too great. I thought if my suspicion was confirmed my love and I could put a stop to this evil and restore peace to our town. I was so naïve then, not understanding that the forces at work were already beyond my control.
She led me to Tuwiuwok Bluff and uncovered a large black book from a pile of stones.
It was unlike any book I've ever seen, the pages seemingly of some thick black substance instead of paper. I was immediately reminded of Ginny's wide, sightless eyes, Victoria's despair when her husband's ship literally disappeared at sea. I had known misfortune, but I'd never before stood in the presence of evil.
In that instant I let my horror override my good sense. I have been paying for it ever since.
"It is you," I accused, and when Morgan turned to me her eyes were as black as her hair. She threw her head back and laughed, and I feared I would die on that spot, never to see my love again.
If only I'd been granted that mercy.
"If it isn't the little doe."
It was something my love had called me once, and I knew immediately that we had not been alone that day.
"What have the townsfolk done to deserve your curses?"
"Everything. And yet nothing. They are nuisances, but they are inconsequential. It's you whose ruin I desire."
"What have I done to anger you so?"
"You have stolen him. The only worthwhile thing in this joke of a town, and he squanders his affections on you."
"I didn't steal him. He was never interested in you."
"But he should have been! What can you offer him? Practically an orphan, sold by your own family. No dowry. No social standing. A contract practically making you someone else's property. But you bat your pretty little eyes and he comes running. He will throw his life away waiting for you. With me he could succeed my father as governor. I could give him a comfortable life."
"I did not choose to keep him from you."
"That is what makes it worse. I did not intend to curse the town. I intended to curse you."
"Then why have you not?"
"I have tried, again and again. Every night I come here and read the spell, and every day you go about your life, untouched."
"Why?"
"If I knew, do you not think I would remedy it? Instead those around you fall victim. It is a fascinating spell. Each curse is particular to its bearer. Betsy is a terrible nag, so her tongue disappears. Amy Meers, always so afraid of the dangers of this new world, kills those around her with the toxicity of that fear. Mathew West's anger burns in a literal fire. The devil has a sense of humor."
"And you have sold your soul to him."
"Perhaps I have. There was a woman on the ship who used to make the children sleep. She never went to mass. I sought her out, on the edge of the settlement. She told me there were ways to channel my anger. That there was power here that had not been in the old world. The love potion didn't work. He was already bespelled by you. But she sold me this book for protection and a comfortable life. And once I signed my name in it, I had power that I've never dreamed."
"You won't get away with this. They'll burn you."I felt so certain in that moment that my words were true. That evil could not persevere, when confronted with the light.
"You think anyone would believe your tale? I'm the governor's daughter. You are no one."
"He'll believe me."
"He'll suffer if you tell him."
"If you love Him you won't harm Him."
"You're right. He'll never be mine if I kill him. But his beloved parents. His dear sister. They're all dispensable. They will die, and I will be sure the entire colony believes it is your fault."
There were no words to describe the fear I felt at that moment. I would have flung myself from that bluff to save him from that pain.
"Don't. I won't say anything. I'll do whatever you ask."
She laughed again. "Go home, girl. Remember your place. Don't say a word. And watch the games commence."
I had no choice but to comply.
The next morning when Morgan hugged her father he collapsed to the ground, screaming. No one dared accuse the governor's daughter of choosing to afflict terrible pain on those she touched.
I stopped meeting Him, knowing I'd be unable to hide the truth in His presence and unwilling to risk His family.
Then one day I was accompanying Morgan to the general store. I tripped on something and stumbled into her. She reached out to steady me, her bare hand clenching mine, and everyone around braced themselves for my scream of agony.
All I felt was gentle pressure. "Don't you feel that?"she demanded, voice high and hysterical, but I could see her smirk.
"I don't feel anything."
"Thank the Lord, I'm cured!" But when she reached out to clasp the hand of the nearest bystander he collapsed in agony.
"Why doesn't it affect you?" Morgan demanded, showing little regard to the man crumpled at her feet.
"I don't know," I stammered.
"I saw you arguing with Margaret yesterday. Today when she read the passage at mass the room filled with manna and quail."
"I didn't even see Margaret yesterday."
"This is your doing!"Morgan shrieked, and I suddenly understood her plan.
"You best run," she whispered, her face transforming from fear to fierce glee in an instant. "The elders will be coming for you."
I wanted desperately to flee into His arms, but I dared not put Him in danger. The town was so desperate sometimes people were burned for supposed association with witches. I hid in the forest for two days, seeking some way to expose Morgan, but there was only one person in town I trusted.
I went to His workshop after dusk, intended to hide there until morning to avoid detection, but the windows were lit by candlelight. I was so certain that I would fall into His arms and He would help me find a way out of this hellfire. But His countenance was grave and He nearly refused to open the door. My heart broke when I realized He too believed Morgan's accusations. I had not a friend in this cruel world. I collapsed upon His doorstep, and that is where they found me the next morning.
The trial was a mere technicality. Morgan had already rallied the townsfolk against me. It seems that every one had been afflicted in those days I was missing. Of a colony of hundreds I was the sole member left uncursed, and there was no evidence stronger than that. He did not come to the trial. Morgan did, and she wept that someone she had been so close to was responsible for such evil. I desperately wanted to expose her, but I had no evidence, and I kept thinking of His dear sister, who I dared not endanger.
I almost welcomed the sentence of death. Existence had become a misery, and there was no other escape for me. At least I knew my soul would be welcomed into heaven, for I was responsible for none of the atrocities I was blamed for.
I longed for one last glimpse of my love. I wanted to make Him understand. If I could only absolve myself in His eyes I could die in peace. But He did not come.
On my last night on earth, chained in a tiny cell, Morgan came to visit me. She wore a dark cloak and a rabid smile.
"Seems I cannot curse you, but these self-righteous fools can."
"You have won," I said wearily, too heartsick to abide her gloating. "There's no need to punish these folks any longer. Once I am gone, will they be well?"
"Yes," she said. "I promise you that."
"Then I shall see my death as a service, to God and to man."
Her next words still haunt me. "Death is too kind for you."
"You promised!"
"I promised that you'd be gone, not that you'd be allowed to die. You have only suffered days. For nearly two years I have yearned for him. You punishment must be manifold."
"They will burn me tomorrow. That is your doing. You cannot stop it."
"They cannot burn you if you're not here." She gestured to the darkness, and her father's servant Henry slid from it. Unlike my indenture, which was meant to expire, Henry would never be a free man, and was bound to a life of hard labor.
With a few whispered words and a touch of her hand Morgan opened my cell and unlocked my chains. Henry grabbed me, and though I struggled he was impossibly strong. She waved her arm, and I found it impossible to speak.
They dragged me to her father's barn, which I had helped to build a mere two years before. "What awaits me there?" I asked as Morgan opened the door, finally finding my tongue unrestrained.
"Justice."
Henry carried me inside, and did not release me until the door slammed behind him. As soon as I was free I ran for it, but it did not budge. I peered out the window and saw Morgan light a torch.
"We're going to burn to death!" I shrieked, self-preservation suddenly stronger than my misery. I hoped that Henry could be swayed by a need to save himself. But he stood calmly in the center of the barn, refusing to look out the window.
"We are not," he stated, his deep voice seemingly sad at the prospect.
I watched the flames lick the wood, banging on the window until my hands bled, but the glass never shattered. Nor did the smoke choke us, or the interior of the barn show any sign of the blaze outside. I watched townsfolk gather, not a single one retrieving a bucket to extinguish the fire. The barn gave a mighty wheeze and the windows darkened.
Henry lit a candle.
"What happens now?" I asked, sinking to the ground, the weight of the past week near unbearable. I'd seen too many impossible things.
"We wait."
Wait we did. With no sun there was no way to mark the passage of days. There was no food, but I felt no need to eat. No water, but I felt no need to drink. Sometimes I slept, because there was little else to do to pass the time. I dreamt of curses and woke screaming. I dreamt of happier days and woke crying. Again and again I saw the moment He rejected me, but never could I make any sense of it. I wanted to curse Him as unfaithful and cruel, but I knew that was not in His nature.
I don't know what my companion dreamed of, but sometimes I heard him mutter in a language I could not understand.
After a few days I was certain I'd go mad, but the madness never overtook me.
Then one day the door opened.
I ran, desperate for air and freedom, but the sunlight was blinding and my legs too weak for exertion. I crumbled to the ground, crying, because surely Henry would catch me and take me back and I just wanted to live again. But he did not follow, and eventually I regained my strength and got my bearings.
I was in the governor's yard. I wanted to flee in the opposite direction but I was frozen in shock, for out of the governor's house strolled Him.
He had aged, but there was no mistaking those cheekbones. And there was no mistaking the woman who clutched His hand. She was beautiful, though she was a woman now. The ground seemed to shift beneath my feet as if the world was shaking, because there were rings on both their fingers and He looked at me with great disdain.
She acted shocked to see me, but I could read the falsehood in it. "This is why the curses are back," she declared, hand pressed to her chest. "It was too much to wish that her devilry was extinguished."
"This is not my devilry!"
"Go back inside, Morgan," He ordered. "Make sure the children are safe."
"There are children?" I gasped. I did not understand it. Surely not enough days had passed for them to be so well along in years. Surely He could not have taken to wife the one responsible for all this misery.
"You shall not touch them."
Once His determination had been on my behalf but He had turned against me now.
"How could you marry her?"
"You should not have returned here. Your evil shall not be tolerated."
"Would you kill me yourself, kind sir, and end this torment? For the sake of the love you once held for me, if nothing else?"
"It is not my place to take your life. The council will hand down punishment accordingly. If you cannot be burned, we must find another way."
Terrified by His words and His coldness, I ran. I expected to hear His footsteps in pursuit, but He did not follow.
I went down to the docks, hoping Phillip would be in port. My love's best friend had been at sea when the curse began, but I cherished his wise council and kind soul. I lurked in the shadows, frightened by the thought of his reaction. As usual, Phillip was the last to leave his precious ship, and I stepped into his vision once we were alone.
"Why have you come to haunt me, ghost?" he asked. "Is it because we never got a proper goodbye?"
"I'm not a ghost, Phillip."
"You haven't aged a day."
"And you have aged many."
"I've been told I look good for forty-seven."
His characteristic humor was suck a stark contrast to all I had known for so long that I began to laugh and could not stop into I had dissolved into gut-wrenching tears.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Not at all. But it helps a bit that you care, when no one else does. I did not bring this curse upon this town, I swear it."
"I know." Phillip looked down, and when he raised his eyes they were full of regret. "I have always known."
"Even with the evidence?"
"Hang the evidence. There's no one less capable in this entire world than you of causing such evil."
"But He believes it."
Phillip scowled. "He is a fool, and I have told him so."
"He will not listen to even you?"
"He stopped seeking my council long ago. He has no wish to listen to reason. I'm sorry Pru."
"How could He marry her? She is the cause of all of this. She wished to torment me, and so many innocents have suffered to that end. But I thought His love was the one thing she could not take from me."
"He is not particularly happy, if that helps."
"It does not."
"I suppose it wouldn't."He smoothed his hand over his tied back hair. "Look, the man is an idiot. But he never thought clearly after Clary died, and Morgan preyed on that."
"Clarissa is dead?" The last time I had seen her she'd been a sweet, precocious girl. It hurt enormously to think her gone.
"For twenty-seven years now. She died two days before your trial. I thought you knew."
"No one told me. How?"
"It was if her body failed in her sleep. But there was a mark upon her forehead."
"What sort of mark?"
"Strange, like a maze."
Ice ran through my veins. I pulled the necklace from underneath my dress. "This?"
"Exactly like that. Where did you get it?"
"He made it for me. I didn't do this, I swear. I would never harm her."
"Certainly not! But I'm beginning to understand why he thought you did."
"Morgan saw us together. She must have seen the token he gave me."
"I do not understand how you are here, and so young. You burned in that barn. The whole town watched."
"The inside did not burn. I have been there all this time. Though it did not seem to be twenty-seven years."
"How did you escape?"
"The door opened – and I ran. I do not know why."
"Because the Troubles are back."
"Troubles?"
"That's what the Reverend has taken to calling them. Troubles that have befallen the town due to one of our own's communion with the devil. They stopped the day you were burned. But a few months ago they began to return."
"How can they blame me for that if I was supposed to be dead?"
"They couldn't." He looked at me, and his sadness made me want to sink into the ground. "They can now. You should leave this place."
"I have nowhere to go."
"There is nothing for you here. People are desperate. For almost thirty years they have been normal again, but they remember. And this time the curses seem to run in families. No one likes the thought that they are passing their curse along to their children."
"What curse do you carry?" I asked. He seemed well enough, standing before me.
"Who says that I am cursed?"
"Everyone was, save for me. Were you spared out upon the seas?"
"No." There was a world of darkness in the word that Phillip did not usually dwell in.
"Is it really so awful?"
"Yes."
"I am sorry—"
"Some of my crew got in an argument and a storm blew up. It was a clear day, and then suddenly we were hanging on for our lives. We realized one of the sailors was the cause. I tried to subdue him and some of his blood got on me. Suddenly I was impossibly strong. It was a rush like I could not describe. My men said my eyes went silver, and they were afraid I'd toss them overboard."
"But the effects faded, did they not? If you avoid the blood all should be well."
"That isn't all." There was something chilling in Phillip's tone. She'd rarely heard him serious. "A month ago Lester Miller went crazy. His skin was covered in green boils and he was filled with rage. He had ten year old twins, and they were affected as well. The family was on a rampage – they killed his wife and were going after the in-laws. I thought if I touched some of his blood I could overpower him, but we struggled with the knife. He died. As soon as he passed, his children went back to normal."
I scrambled for an explanation beside the obvious one. "Perhaps any time someone Troubled dies their children are cured."
"No. There have been other cases. That is not true."
"Oh, Phillip."
"They come to me now, when someone's curse is destructive. I've had mothers beg me to take their lives to protect their babies." He was the second gentlest man I have ever known, and he had a sanctity for all life, even the fish he caught in his nets. It made me ill to think he was being asked to kill and pressured into it for the greater good. At last I understood his shame. "Sometimes I do as they ask."
"Morgan told me the curses were specially chosen for each individual. They make you kill because you are a good man." I reached out for his hand. I imagined the blood there but did not shy from it.
"I will do what I must to protect those in this town," he declared, looking down, and for the first time I noticed the gleam of silver on his finger. "But I fear for my children. I have two boys and a girl. I would not have them carry this curse."
"We must stop her!"
"How do we do that?"
"I don't know."
"The sun is nearly set. I am expected home."
"Go. Be with your family."
"It's not safe for you to be about. Go to the largest oak in the forest. I have some rations I can give you. I will bring more in the morning."
"Thank you." He disappeared into his ship and emerged a few minutes later with a pack and a thick cloak.
"Don't give up," he advised before watching me slip off to the forest.
I was not the only one to seek sanctuary there. When I found the tree Phillip had spoke of there was a young boy leaning against it, crying.
I did not think of the danger to myself; all I could see was a lost and upset child.
"Are you all right?" I asked softly, kneeling down so I was more at his level. The boy still startled, standing quickly and waving his hand at me as if he was brandishing a weapon.
"I mean you no harm," I assured.
"You've come because I hurt Mommy!" he said. "I didn't mean to."
"That's not why I'm here, little one. I'm hiding too."
That seemed to calm him. I sat with my back against the tree and patted the space beside me. He sat, but he left a fair amount of distance between us. "What happened to your mother?"
The boy, who couldn't have been any older than seven, blinked back tears. "I was so mad she wouldn't let me play with John. I grabbed her skirt and she got so cold." He wiped his hand under his nose. "Froze like the ice over Fielder's Pond."
Bile rose up my throat, but I tried not to let him see my disgust. "Did you mean to hurt your mother?"
"No! I didn't know that would happen. It never happened before."
I reach out toward him and he scooted backwards violently. "Don't touch me. It could happen to you! My hands are still so cold."
All I could think about was how Morgan had lamented how the curses did not work on me. I also knew that if I miscalculated, I would not mind a sudden demise.
"It's all right." Praying that it would be for this boy's sake if not my own, I reached out and took his hand.
It was frigidly cold, but that cold did not transfer to my being. Within seconds the boy had sunk into my side and I cradled him as best I could from that position.
"I don't want to go to hell," he sobbed as I ran a hand through his hair.
"God shall not damn you for what you don't do willingly," I assured, wishing desperately for that to be true. "But perhaps you can control this so you don't hurt anyone again."
"How?"
His hands were already warming. "The ice may come back when you are angry or afraid. You need to be careful and patient. If you keep it inside you, it can't hurt anyone else."
I don't know where the advice came from, but it sounded true. After he was calm I gave him a piece of bread and sent him away, inviting him to come back next time he was afraid.
He returned two days later with a dandelion and a smile. His mother had thawed, and he hadn't hurt anyone else.
Phillip visited me every day or two, but he wasn't the only one. The boy brought a friend who withered any plants around him, and my oak tree managed to survive unscathed. Soon there were other children, and I found I was able to talk them out of their mania. The curses, though caused by some external magic, fed on strong emotions and disquiet of the soul. My own soul began to heal as I realized how many could be helped.
One night Phillip brought me one of his sailors who was deathly ill. He went back to his wife well, but my return was a secret no longer. He recognized me.
I waited for the angry mobs, but they did not seem to dare to come. It was only those seeking healing who sought me out.
Until Morgan came, cackling in the moonlight.
"You think you can help them, one by one," she sneered. "It's like trying to hold back the waves by drinking from the ocean."
"Every life has value."
"They all suffer because you have returned."
"That's a lie."
"You know in your heart it is not. I wanted you to see the damage you have caused. The town has moved on, but they still pay for your insolence. They will always pay. But when you go, the curses will cease. Until you return again."
"Then I shall not return," I declared, trying to be brave. Phillip had given me a knife in case I encountered creatures in the woods, and though it might damn my soul I was certain it was sharp enough to spill my lifeblood, if such sacrifice was needed to end this.
"How can you have forgotten? Your freedom has never been your own since you set foot on this land. I still hold your indenture. You belong to me. There is a power in that that gives the magic strength. You shall leave and return whenever I say. Henry."
And there he was again, by her side, and I finally realized the futility of my lot. There was no time to reach for the knife. No chance to say goodbye to Phillip or any of those I had helped. As Henry pulled me through town I realized the mob had gathered, they'd just been too afraid to retrieve me themselves. But they stood around the McKee barn –miraculously restored—with torches.
The only solace was He did not come to watch me burn.
The next three decades were more unbearable, for I knew what would come next. I cried for days, no longer caring for the weakness my tears exposed. I dreamt of halcyon days turned crimson and relived each moment of betrayal again and again.
It was loneliness that drove me to speak to Henry. For years he would not answer me, but sometimes I imagined he shed silent tears as well. Once when I asked why he did Morgan's bidding, he looked at me with wide, glistening eyes, so white in the dim light of the barn, and told me I was not the only one she owned.
The next time the door opened again, I knew what to expect.
Or so I thought. But Phillip has passed away in the last twenty-seven years so I found no friends at the docks.
I returned to the forest, to help who I could, and the Troubled came. The townsfolk's hysteria had faded, but not their pain. They recognized the pattern, but were terrified of its consequences.
One day a schoolteacher infected his entire class with a plague. When Phillip's son came to see me that night with blood on his hands he begged me for absolution I could not give. Phillip had told his children of my mercy and my innocence, but I could not slay one of the only pieces left of him.
Three months after my second return, He came to visit me. He was an old man now, grey and stooped, but underneath the wrinkles was the man that I had dreamt about, that I dreamt of still, again and again in my prison.
But my hope had been long extinguished, and the love that stirred at His presence was a blind and crippled thing. All save Phillip would put it out of its misery.
"There's no need for your wife to drag me off again. As soon as she asks I'll go."
"You're still the same," He said in awe, and there was no anger in His voice this time, His tone soft enough I could pretend that it was tinged with loss.
"And you are not."
"The children say that you're a healer."
"And their parents say that I'm a witch."
"Not the ones who used to be children."
"It doesn't matter what they think of me. It does not change what must be done. There was only one whose approval I sought, and that was lost to me a long time ago."
"I fear, in my old age, that I was deceived. I finally see clearly again."
"It is too late," I said sharply. So long I had wished for a moment like this, but it was hollow now. "I needed your love, and received only scorn. I would never have hurt your family. I certainly would never have hurt you. You should have realized that. Phillip did." I knew that would sting, and in that instant I wanted it to. Because I had chosen His affections over Phillip's, but it was Phillip who had stood by my side.
"We had not spoken for half our lives. But he called for me on his deathbed. Told me I should see you one last time. He was delirious, but he kept repeating, "True love conquers all.""
"Tis true that the love of Christ can conquer all evil. But I do not believe those powers extend to man."
"You were never cynical."
"You were never cruel. People change."
"She is better when you are gone," He whispered. "Kinder. She is a good mother."
I could tell that He sought absolution, but I was filled with disgust. He knew what Morgan had done, or at least suspected. Still He stayed with her. "It is easier to be kinder when you have everything you desire. All she ever wanted was you."
"And you were all I ever wanted."
I sobbed and turned away, unable to look at Him. "You promised me once you would free me from her control. Now I fear I shall live under it for eternity. It would have been best if you left well enough alone."
"Tell me how I can make this right," He pleaded.
"Find someone to send you back in time and pay no mind to the girl who answers the door when you deliver nails."
"You would wish away our time together?"
That was surely the prudent course, not just for myself but for this entire settlement, which had suffered greatly for our failed love. But I could not say the words I knew that I should mean.
"The stars fall again tonight. It is time for me to go. The Troubles shall end when I depart. That is how it shall be, again and again, through all of time. But I do not bring them here. I'm sure your wife is waiting with a torch. She always is."
"There need be no violence tonight, if you will go willingly."
No matter how lonely and haunting my time in the barn was, there was something worse about each return to Haven. I had no desire to stay, especially when I knew the townsfolk's suffering would end once mine resumed.
He held out his hand, and after a moment's hesitation I took it. He startled when our palms pressed together, but then He was leading me forward. I could have moved more quickly if I was not held back by His shuffling gait, but it was exquisite torture, to walk one last time by His side.
There was no one else waiting at the barn, to send me off with curses and visions of hellfire, besides Henry. I thought perhaps He was right, and Morgan had grown kinder, to allow Him to see me with dignity one last time.
He raised my hand to His lips and pressed a trembling kiss there, and every shred of any good emotion I had left shattered, and I knew this was no kindness. "I am truly sorry, Prudence," He whispered. "I shall pray for your soul."
"And I shall pray for yours."
I knew they'd all be dead the next time I returned.
I asked Henry if the cycle would end once Morgan was gone. For years he did not answer me, but one day he declared that he could feel that his mistress was dead. After that her hold on him seemed to lessen. He told me that the curse would not end with her life, that she had designed it to perpetuate into eternity. I asked him questions to pass the time, and sometimes he would answer. He told me stories of Africa, where he had been born, about the parents he'd been stolen away from and the girl he'd been sweet on who was surely dead long ago. I told him about England and how many people had lived there, the focus on wealth instead of spiritual pursuits. How it was dirty and sinful and yet so much kinder than the new world.
I looked forward to the day the barn door would open, but Haven was a changed place. Not a single person born before my imprisonment began was still alive. I had hoped that Morgan's instructions to Henry had been an idle threat, and we would find the town unplagued now that Morgan was gone. But the Troubles were as rampant as ever. Children came to me that I could not save, and I began to despair. Since I could not go into town I asked them to bring me supplies. One naïve girl brought me a knife to slice a loaf of bread and the gleaming metal taunted me, bright like the pendant I still wore around my neck, and after two days I decided to plunge it into my heart and end all this. Perhaps the Troubles would cease with my breath. If they did not, at least they would no longer be my concern. I am ashamed to admit that I knew I might damn the townsfolk eternally with my actions, but I was too heartsick to abide this life any longer. But as soon as I picked up the knife Henry was at my side, stilling my hand. I beat my hands against his chest and screamed for him to let me end this, but he took the knife and disappeared. I tried to stop eating, but he came with warm meals that smelled so delicious my deprived stomach could not resist. I tried to drown myself in the ocean, but Henry saved me. Attempted to hang myself, but the tree branch broke.
The sky fell, and we left again.
I had finally comprehended the futility of my existence, and its eternal nature terrified me. I could not imagine doing this forever, and I told Henry so, often in shameful hysterics. Morgan's death seemed to have instilled some power in him, or perhaps it just freed him to access it. The barn, which had always looked just as it had when we'd built it, now looked more like a home. A bed appeared for me, covered in soft quilts, and I slept as much as I could. He conjured food, and even though we didn't need to eat we did.
He asked what I'd done in my spare time. Sometimes the wall of the barn became a window to the ocean, and other times we seemed to stroll through the forest even though we did not leave our prison. But often I read to him, and when he admitted that he did not know his letters I resolved to teach him. Such actions had been forbidden in the colony, and I was grateful that there was finally a rule I could break. These pursuits distracted me, but I told him often how much I detested the thought of returning.
A few days ago, after I woke from a nightmare screaming, he told me there might be a way to end this torment.
He cannot break this cycle any more than I can, and he's been forbidden to let me die. But there's a man in town who can make people forget.
I told Henry it would surely be worse to be banished again and again and not know why, but he elaborated further. While the man can make people forget, his wife can fill that emptiness with the memories of another.
Drastic measures, and I know such violation goes against the intention of God. But I have already been damned, and I can abide this existence no longer. I am haunted by His betrayal and His fate. I feel the loss of each innocent destroyed by the Troubles, the pain of hundreds upon hundreds. The knowledge that this will never stop is too much. Henry says he will ask the couple to travel with us, and as long as they are swayed by the idea of eternal life they can make me someone new every time we arrive. He says he can channel the magic in the barn to change my appearance enough that I will not be recognized. They are already beginning to forget why the Troubles started, the name Prudence White no longer the curse it once was. With a new name I can walk freely through town. I can be of more help, and I will not know their suffering is my fault. Henry will make sure I return when the barn is ready, and I will only have to abide twenty seven years before I start again as someone new.
I was not certain, when I began this journal, if I was going to do it. I thought, by recollecting the past, I might convince myself against such a desperate course. But I am only convinced all the more strongly that there are no other options. The thought of oblivion holds such peace, and it has been over a hundred years since my weary soul had any of that.
But as tragic as my life has been, I have recorded it here, because if I am going to erase all traces of Prudence White, I want there to be some proof that I lived. History will see me as a villain, and I wish there to be some record of the truth. Even if no one else can read this, I am comforted that it exists. I will go back to the woods when Henry searches for the couple, and I will hide this with the pendant, and maybe one day someone will find this record and take pity on the wretch who loved the wrong man too fiercely, and angered a cruel girl with poor judgment and a terrible confidant.
Though I willingly slip from this world, in this book I shall forever remain Prudence White.
Audrey closed the book and let the enormity of all she had read wash over her. She was alone in the room; Nathan must have decided she wasn't at risk and given her the privacy she asked for. She had no idea how much time had passed. Her head didn't pound – she hadn't remembered anything. But it felt true – an explanation for the emptiness at the bottom of her heart that only Nathan could drive away. Her soul ached at the enormity of everything she'd learned. She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them tightly. She didn't have the energy to fight the silent tears that coursed down her cheeks. Prudence's misery was practically a presence in the room, smothering her. Audrey knew full well what it was like to have to go into that barn and leave Haven behind, but to do it over and over again and know what was waiting – to know that so much suffering was due to a love that had not even stood by her side – it was unfathomable.
She took a few minutes to process, but the longer she sat there, the more she realized that she did not want to be alone. Swiping her hand across her face, she set off to find Nathan.
As soon as she opened the door to the hallway she was greeted by a delicious smell. It grew stronger the closer she got to the kitchen, until finally she was standing at the doorway watching him pull two pans from the oven and set them on the counter beside a container of frosting.
"You baked me a cake?" Her voice was rough with disuse. She cleared her throat and glanced down at her watch. She'd been reading for hours.
Nathan rubbed at the back of his neck. "Don't own any cupcake tins, so this'll have to do." He smiled self-deprecatingly. "Should probably pick some of those up."
"You baked me a cake," she repeated, overwhelmed by this simple gesture when her former self had been so unlucky in love.
"Came from a box," he said, pointing to the evidence still on the counter. "Not like I made it from scratch."
"You just happened to have a box of cake mix sitting around?"
"Had one tucked away for emergencies."
"You're perfect."
"Wasn't even that hard."
"Just shut up and hold me."
He wasted no time in obliging, cradling her to him, and she closed her eyes and breathed him in. He whispered comforting nonsense while he smoothed his hand down her back and the misery retreated into her subconscious.
"Whatever you found out, it'll be okay. We'll get through it together."
She kissed him on the cheek and pulled away, retrieving a spoon from one of the drawers and hoisting herself onto the counter a few inches from the cake. Opening up the frosting container, she took a scoop and then cut a bite sized piece from the nearest pan, popping it in her mouth before he could protest.
"This is delicious."
"You're ruining my cake."
"I'm saving you the trouble of frosting it. Don't worry, it won't go to waste." She served herself another spoonful, frosting then cake, and then pushed the pan toward him. "You should try it."
He didn't like sweets nearly as much as she did if they weren't for breakfast, but he got himself a spoon anyway and followed her lead.
"Not bad for a first attempt," he declared, taking another bite before perching on a stool a few feet to her right.
"Think we've found your second career," she joked.
"Think I'd need a few more skills than stirring up a boxed mix for that, but I can work on it."
"Thank you," she said sincerely, reaching out to cover one of his hands with hers. The way he cared for her was such a contrast to everything Prudence had ever known, and that helped her distance herself from all she had just read. Prudence was a part of her, but she wasn't that forsaken girl any longer.
"You're not bleeding. You didn't remember."
"No," she answered. "But I know what happened now."
She flipped his hand over, seeking his pulse with her thumb to delay the inevitable moment when she'd have to talk about this. His fingers curled involuntarily toward her and she could see the cake mix under his nails.
"I chose to forget. I was willing to become a new person every twenty-seventy years because spending a lifetime as Prudence was too much to bear. It's like I killed myself, except instead of dying I had to do it all over and over again."
He didn't say anything but he grabbed her hand, tethering her to this place as he'd always done.
"She was so hopeless. Howard was right. It was a punishment. But my crime wasn't cursing a town. It was loving someone. I didn't cause the Troubles – not directly. The governor's daughter wanted to curse me because the blacksmith loved me instead of her. But it didn't work, so she cursed the town instead and blamed me for it. And this became my curse, to watch the Troubles happen again and again, to try to help but know it's only a band aid because the only thing that makes any real difference is when I go. But I always come back, and so do they."
"Where does Howard fit into all this?"
"His name used to be Henry. He was a slave that belonged to Morgan's father. It was his job to make sure I went back to the Barn on schedule. But after she died he started to feel sorry for me. He couldn't stop the cycle. But he suggested a way to make it more bearable."
She took another bite of cake, the sweetness of the chocolate soothing her and the delay giving her a chance to regroup.
"I thought the Barn took my memories, but it didn't have that power. There was someone in the Barn with us. A couple. Musta been related to the Teagues. One wiped my memories, and the other implanted someone else's."
"They were in there the whole time?"
"They probably came out when I did. No one ages in the Barn. Eternal life's probably not so bad if you have someone to spend it with." She looked up at him shyly and saw the yearning in his eyes. Just as she thought, he'd give up the immediacy of the present for more time with her. It was useless to contemplate – the Barn was gone, so they'd never spend forever within its memory drenched walls. But it helped to know that he would, if he was given the choice.
"There's something else," he said. "We guessed at most of that. You choosing to go into the Barn was not so different from what Prudence did. But something's got you shaken enough to eat half a cake all by yourself."
"You helped," she quipped, noticing that one of the cake tins was indeed empty.
He didn't smile. "You can tell me, Parker. Whatever it is, it won't change the way I feel about you."
She wasn't afraid of that this time. It just hurt. But maybe it would be better after the telling. And he did deserve to know.
"You don't have to worry about that blacksmith," she told him.
"I'm not worried," he declared, his quickness to cut in disproving his words.
She rolled her eyes. "Sure. But you don't need to. When the Troubles hit, he forsook me like everyone else. First time I came back, I found out he'd married the governor's daughter. Had kids with her and everything. He knew by the time he died that she'd done this. She cursed everyone and framed me for being a witch. But he stayed with her, tried to defend her."
Nathan dragged his stool closer and then put an arm around her, pulling her gently over to rest her head against his shoulder. She leaned into the contact as his fingers trailed up and down her forearm.
"What can I do?" he asked earnestly.
She looked up at him, the force of her love threatening to combust her from the inside out. This is what Prudence had needed – someone to fight for her.
"You've already done more than anyone else. I was ready to accept my fate again, but you destroyed the Barn. You freed me from my prison." She'd been mad at him once for getting in the way, but she was overcome now by how grateful Prudence would have been for such an action. Whatever happened to her now, at least it would not continue into eternity. She'd never thought dying – eventually – could be a relief. "Now we just have to keep you from paying for that with your life."
"You'll never be alone again," he swore, but she recognized how carefully he'd chosen his words. He did not swear to always be the one by her side.
Moment of truth: since this was my NaNoWriMo project, I've got two more chapters fully written and a third nearly done, that I just haven't had time to edit yet. I'll try to get those posted as soon as I can – but I do need to spend some time on all the other things I've been ignoring all November. Feedback might motivate me to post faster though, so please let me know what you think.