Return to Salem by Theresa Sneed

Author:Theresa Sneed [Sneed, Theresa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Author Theresa Sneed
Published: 2017-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Eighteen

Too Close

I had forgotten how hard it was to walk in layers of clothing. No wonder petticoats had had their day in the past which had not carried over into the future. I picked up the hem of my dress and stepped gingerly down the stairs, grateful that Gabriella was not at the front desk, as I passed through the lobby and onto the street.

I caught sight of a carriage some distance down the street and my heart fluttered. Silly me, it’s not his. It had looked like one of Hezekiah’s family’s carriages, but the odds of that were astronomical.

I pulled a folded parchment from my bag and checked it. The night before, using an inkwell and a quill, I had painstakingly written out places that Hezekiah and Honovi might be as well as the dates of key events I knew. It was both a curse and a blessing to perfectly remember the research I had done on Salem before I had the unfortunate experience of traveling back in time. Huh! Unfortunate? It’s how I met Hezekiah, Honovi and Magena—hardly unfortunate.

I pressed my finger on today’s date—July 29, 1692—Friday, and the list of places I would visit after procuring a carriage. I began by asking around, and found a place two streets over that rented carriages by the day, week, or month.

The streets were still quite muddy from the rainstorm two days ago, so I hefted my dress and petticoat up as far as I dared and still give the visage of a proper lady. A fairly warm day, I was drenched in sweat before arriving at the long shed with the sign overhead that said, horses and carriages.

I thought a one-horse carriage would be easier for me to handle, so after paying the man, and getting a detailed agenda for her feedings and such, he helped me into the seat and handed me the reins.

“Bring ‘er back next Friday, ‘bout this time,” he said, “and if’n you need ‘er longer, then we’ll take it from there.”

“Thank you,” I said. With a slight flip of my wrists, the horse took off at a trot.

It was wonderful—the freedom I felt from being mobile once more—even if it was only 3 mph. Though I never drove and texted at the same time, I was proficient at multitasking with other things while texting—like walking, so that holding a simple parchment and checking it while maneuvering the carriage down the street was a cinch.

I stopped several times, asked a few questions, got no answers, and then continued on. This went on for several hours, until I had some luck in a small tavern near the inn. I had not wanted to run into her again, but there she was sitting at a table deep in thought. I almost turned away when it struck me that she might have news from Dorchester.

“Gabriella,” I said in a pleasant voice. “May I join you?”

“Yes, of course!” Coming out of her daze, she gestured to the seat across from her.

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