Part 4 (2/2)
”Nice to meet you. Finn Douglas. My wife, the incredible dog lover, Megan.”
”Finn. And Megan. Are you playing here, at the hall?”
”Yes, that's us,” Finn answered. Megan was busy telling the dog how beautiful she was.
”Wow! Wicked!” Darren said.
”Wicked?”
Megan, still cuddling the dog's ma.s.sive head, laughed. ”Wicked. It's an expression, Finn. It means good.”
”Oh, yeah, exactly,” Darren said. ”You know, wicked. Like a girl can be wicked good-looking. You can have a wicked good time.
You know?”
”Sorry, I'm from the South. Deep South. Haven't heard the expression before.”
”Hey, man, come on, you must travel!”
”Oh, yeah, we travel, but sorry...just haven't heard it before.”
”That's okay. Let me say then, wow, rad! I have some of your CDs.”
Finn arched a brow. He had been getting something of a name, but still, his CDs were available through some of the major Internet chains, but he hadn't heard that he was garnering that much of a following. They did well with their music where they played, but so far, live appearances had been their major selling point.
”Well, thanks. That's great. I appreciate it.”
”We've got a new one with us,” Megan said, balancing back to her feet ”We'd be happy to give you one.”
”Super. I've been planning to come to at least three of the nights you're playing. Starting tonight.” He shrugged. ”I'm in college here-didn't go too far out of the hometown after high school, I'm afraid. Thought I'd get the basic stuff out of the way, first.”
”Sound plan,” Finn said. That made Darren about nineteen or twenty, a little older than he had estimated. He had a pleasant face, bright green eyes, and a dead short haircut, almost a buzz. He was wearing a white sweats.h.i.+rt with a surf logo and plain old blue jeans. Finn decided he liked him a lot.”So-you're from here.”
”Down the street,” he admitted sheepishly.
”Megan's from Marblehead,” Finn said.
”Hey, I know, I read up on the musicians I like,” Darren said.
Megan grinned at him. ”How old is Lizzie?”
”Seven.”
”Ah.”
”Yeah, 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.”
”I'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.”
”Sure. 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!”
”Our 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, t.i.tuba. Then, the parents of the children, and others in the village, men of G.o.d, 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 Ma.s.sachusetts was over.
The lights came up. Finn realized that he'd been squeezing his wife's hand throughout the presentation.She grinned up at him. ”Good, huh? And sad, really sad.”
”Very,” he said softly.
They exited through the gift shop, pausing to look at a few books, T-s.h.i.+rts, and other memorabilia. As they studied some t.i.tles and Finn tried to decide what book to buy that would give him a good overview of the area, a man approached them.
”Megan?”
She turned around, frowning, apparently not recognizing the man who had tentatively spoken her name.
He was twenty-five to thirty, nicely dressed in a tailored suit and suede jacket. His sandy hair was a little shorter than Finn's, and had the look of being run through absently and often with his fingers. Good-looking face, all well-s.p.a.ced angles, dark brown eyes.
Medium tall.
”Mike?” Megan said cautiously.
The man smiled. Dimples creased in his cheeks, taking away the somewhat severe look of the academic the man had.
”Yeah, it's me.” He caught both her hands, kissed her cheeks.
”It's great to see you,” Megan said. ”What are you doing here-well, obviously, you still live in the area.”
”Grounded in the home haunting grounds, I'm afraid,” he said ruefully. ”But you-I haven't seen you in years! Have you moved back?”
”No, I'm living in New Orleans now.” She turned then, looking at Finn. ”I want you to meet an old friend, Mike Smith. Mike, this is my husband, Finn Douglas. We're back playing at the new hotel for Halloween week.”
”So you kept up with the music!” Mike Smith said, turning what seemed to Finn to be a too adoring gaze from Megan to acknowledge her introduction. ”h.e.l.lo, Finn. Nice to meet you. And congratulations. You've married the girl of my dreams.”
”Thanks,” Finn said, shaking hands with the fellow. ”Nice to meet you, too.” Was it? He was disturbed by the sense of jealousy that took root inside him.
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