The Awakening by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page B

a buzz. He was wearing a white sweatshirt with a surf logo and plain old blue jeans. Finn decided he liked him a lot.
    â€œSo—you’re from here.”
    â€œDown the street,” he admitted sheepishly.
    â€œMegan’s from Marblehead,” Finn said.
    â€œHey, I know, I read up on the musicians I like,” Darren said.
    Megan grinned at him. “How old is Lizzie?”
    â€œSeven.”
    â€œAh.”
    â€œYeah, I know. Danes don’t usually have a very long life span. Seven is it for a lot of them. Their hearts can’t take their size. But I’m willing to bet old Lizzie has a few more years. I take care of her. Give her the right stuff.”
    â€œI’m sure you do. And she is really beautiful,” Megan said. She sighed. “I guess we’d better get going. We’re not really here that long this trip . . . and I want to show Finn a number of places.”
    â€œSure. Hey, don’t let all the witchcraft stuff get to you—it’s Halloween, and you’re going to be inundated,” Darren advised Finn.
    Finn nodded. Darren gave them a wave and started off with Lizzie. “Isn’t she great!” Megan said.
    He hugged her. “Magnificent. And we still can’t get a dog yet. Not until we make enough to pay a good dog-sitter when we’re traveling.”
    Her eyes were bright and beautiful. “That won’t be long. Hey, can you believe it! A college kid in a small town has your CDs!”
    â€œOur CDs. Okay, not a bad morning. Good for the ego. Let’s see your museum.”
    It was a good morning. Tourists everywhere. The word normal fell back into his mind again.
    The place was definitely jumping. They were the last two admitted to the next showing of the tableau, and as Megan had said, the production was excellent. The recorded voice of the narrator explained the medieval concept of the devil, and how people came to believe in the existence of the devil—and of witches. As he spoke, different tableaus were lighted. The events occurring in Salem in 1692 were then set out, with possible explanations being given. The darkness of the landscape, the depression of severe winter, and that of the lifestyle led by the Puritans were made tangible, and it was easy to see how children, desperate for some form of play, had begun to believe in the tales they were told by the Caribbean slave woman, Tituba. Then, the parents of the children, and others in the village, men of God, began to believe as well. The doctors could find no physical reason for the torment the girls truly seemed to be suffering. Therefore, by the beliefs of the day, it had to be witchcraft.
    First, an old deaf woman, Rebecca Nurse, was accused, and nearly dismissed—she had been a good, churchgoing woman. But when she was nearly let free, the girls began to scream and howl in anguish again, and she found herself condemned. Others followed her to the wretched jails. A local man, John Proctor, protested. “The girls will make devils of us all!” he was reputed to have said. And soon, he was accused himself. A plateau of the gallows was later illuminated. A one-time minister said the Lord’s Prayer perfectly—a sure sign of innocence, supposedly. But his words were ignored, and the murmuring crowd was shushed. The Devil had helped his henchman, and justice would be served. In all, nineteen were hanged, and old Giles Corey was pressed to death. Justice there, maybe, Finn thought, since Corey had stood as a witness against his own wife when she had been accused.
    Years later, one of the girls recanted, her words read by a minister of the church. The craze was over. Witches had gone to trial before in the colonies, and they would go to trial again. But the insanity that had seized this little part of Massachusetts was over.
    The lights came up. Finn realized that he’d been squeezing his wife’s hand throughout the presentation.
    She grinned up at