The First Midnight Spell

  After a moment, Aunt Ruth nodded. “That should do. I’ll tell Widow Porter about it in the morning. She can steer him in some other direction. I’m worried about that boy.”

  I’m not, Elizabeth thought. For the first time in years—since she’d been old enough to know how she felt about Nat Porter—she wasn’t afraid of losing him. For the first time she felt sure her dreams would come true.

  Nat came to her in the far field so early in the day that the grass was still cool and damp with dew. Nobody else would come out this way, so Elizabeth didn’t have to hide or wait. She simply stood there amid the tall waving grass, untying her cap so that her hair would flow free as she watched Nat walking toward her. His steps quickened until he was practically running to her, and she held out her arms for him.

  Together they tumbled onto the soft ground, and Nat’s mouth found hers, and Elizabeth surrendered to the tidal wave of feeling sweeping her away.

  They lay like that for hours, kissing until her lips were swollen and sore, tangling their bodies together until their clothes seemed to be only an inconvenience. Elizabeth let Nat touch her everywhere he wanted, thrilling to the warmth of his hands, and knowing each moment only made him wilder to finally have her for his own.

  If that happens, then he’ll marry me, she thought in a blissful daze, her head lolling back against Nat’s forearm on the ground. He’ll know that if our families found out, they’d force us to marry. Even the First Laws couldn’t prevent that! Surely some laws of man were even greater than the rules of witchcraft.

  Yet every moment Elizabeth thought Nat would finally abandon all restraint, he would suddenly pull back. “We can’t,” he would pant against her shoulder. “I can’t do that to you.”

  Elizabeth would have liked to plead with him to do exactly that. Yet she knew to do so would mark her as a completely improper young woman—a slattern rather than a virtuous girl he would want to marry. Although Nat would always love her, of course, he would not always be so thoroughly in the grip of her spell. When he remembered these days in years to come, she wanted him to remember only how fiercely his desire for her had burned, instead of her behaving in a way he would never want for his wife.

  So instead she meekly whispered, “We won’t, Nat. I know you’re a good man. You’ll take care of me.”

  Besides, this was wonder enough for today, maybe for a lifetime. Elizabeth had imagined how good it would feel to lie beneath Nat, to feel him move against her as he kissed her again and again. Yet her imagination had fallen so short of reality.

  By midafternoon both their bellies were growling with hunger, sharp enough for Nat to release her for a while. She’d thought to pack some cheese and bread in a little checked cloth she’d tied with a bow. Nat ate like a starving man, and with a tiny twinge of guilt she wondered how long it had been since he’d sat down to regular meals and eaten as much as he should.

  Not for much longer, she thought as she stroked his hair. Soon I’ll cook all your meals, and we’ll be happy together somewhere far away from Fortune’s Sound.

  They had spoken little that day, so it was startling when Nat said, “I don’t understand myself any longer.”

  “It’s all right,” Elizabeth replied, smiling over at him. “We’re in love. People can’t help themselves when they’re in love.”

  He hardly seemed to have heard her. “One day—one day I was still praying every morning and night for Rebecca to get well. I knew that I intended to spend my life with her if God granted her the years for us to share.”

  Just hearing Rebecca Hornby’s name again soured Elizabeth’s mood. What was it about that girl that allowed her to linger in Nat’s mind, despite the spell? Inwardly Elizabeth resolved to cast a spell of forgetting on Nat as soon as she got the chance.

  Nat continued, “Then the next day I realized I couldn’t think about anything but you. I didn’t want anyone but you.”

  That was more like it. “Nat, you’ve always been the one for me. Always. I used to wish and pray you’d notice me.”

  “I don’t understand.” Nat’s voice sounded broken. “Ma doesn’t want me to be with you—and I don’t know why, but she doesn’t, and she’s never been one to hold me back. If I marry you, it will hurt her, so badly. I never wanted to hurt Ma.”

  “She’ll see reason someday,” Elizabeth lied. They’d never see Widow Porter again, which was fine by her. “These things work out with time. They always do.”

  “I hear you and everything makes sense. But inside—inside—” Nat made a gesture across his heart, as though he were trying to tear off something that had gotten in the way. “Everything’s turned upside down, and I don’t even know my own mind any longer.”

  “Shhh. Nat, it’s all right. Trust me. You trust me, don’t you?”

  He nodded at her, saying nothing, but his wide blue eyes told the whole story.

  Elizabeth lay back on the ground again and smiled up at him invitingly. Sure enough, the confusion in his eyes faded, replaced by desire. The spell had him again, which meant Elizabeth did, too. When he kissed her, the sun beat down on them so brightly that even closing her eyes couldn’t keep out the light.

  She’d managed to pick enough weeds and herbs first thing that morning to keep Aunt Ruth from being suspicious. Still, Elizabeth wondered at how blind her aunt could be. It seemed as though her entire body glowed with the memory of Nat’s kisses, as if the entire world should be able to see it.

  But as they worked together to prepare supper that evening, Elizabeth felt flickers of doubt.

  Elizabeth had never doubted whether she ought to have cast the spell. That much was obvious. She loved Nat. He should love her. The spell would make that happen.

  Still, magic had taken a toll on Nat. Even her happiness couldn’t blind her to that. It had to be frightening to feel as though your thoughts weren’t your own, and upsetting to be at odds with your mother. (Elizabeth’s own mother was nothing now but an unmarked grave and a series of ever-fading memories, but she knew she’d never have wanted to make her sad.) Yes, Elizabeth’s spell could make Nat forget Rebecca Hornby . . . but would she also have to make him forget Widow Porter, his friends here in town, and virtually everything else about his life before Elizabeth?

  If she did, and she emptied out that much of Nat’s history—at the end, would he still be the man she loved?

  Elizabeth stirred the stew on the wood stove, wiping her forehead as steam frizzed her curls. Fear curled in the pit of her belly now, fear and guilt.

  Had she hurt him? Was he always going to be injured and lonely because of the spell she’d cast?

  He won’t be lonely, Elizabeth thought with a fierce rush of determination. He’ll have me. I’ll make it up to him, all of it. He’ll never have one day where I’m not doing everything I can to make him happy. He’ll never have one night where we’re not as thrilled by each other as we were today. Wherever we go, he’ll make new friends. We’ll settle in, create a home together. And when I give him children, his life will be complete. No man could ask for more.

  Smiling, Elizabeth settled back into her work, so cheerful she even sang to her cousins as she stirred. Already she was looking forward to tomorrow—tomorrow, when she and Nat had already agreed to leave Fortune’s Sound together, forever.

  Before going to sleep, Elizabeth managed to roll several of her things into a little bundle under the bed. Come midday tomorrow, it would be easy enough for her to dash in while Aunt Ruth was busy, collect it, and meet Nat at the edge of town. She dozed off quickly, despite her excitement; between all her preparations to elope and the vigorous afternoon she and Nat had spent together, she was exhausted.

  Which was why it took a while for the sound to wake her.

  Thump.

  “What?” Elizabeth murmured, lifting her head from the pillow. The children were already awake, calling out questions, and downstairs, someone . . . someone was pounding at the door.

  “Go on home!” Aunt Ruth called. “Get back
home right away!” She sounded terrified.

  Then, from outside, Elizabeth heard Nat call her name.

  He had come for her. He’d come for her and he didn’t care who heard, who saw. As reckless as Nat’s behavior was, Elizabeth couldn’t help glorying in it.

  Slowly she rose from her bed. She wore only a simple shift, so light it was very nearly transparent. How Nat’s eyes would light up when he saw her like this.

  As the pounding continued, Elizabeth walked toward the door. Aunt Ruth had it barred, and had braced her shoulder against it. She realized Nat wasn’t so much knocking on the door as throwing himself against it, trying to batter it down.

  “Elizabeth!” he shouted again.

  Aunt Ruth glanced over and saw Elizabeth standing there. Her face was pale and drawn. “Child, you should go to bed.”

  “He’s calling for me.”

  “He’s run mad,” Aunt Ruth said. “I don’t know what’s become of him, but he’s not the Nat Porter we used to know.”

  Elizabeth knew her magic had worked in ways she didn’t yet fully understand—but she also knew the real Nat remained, only temporarily crazed by the spell she’d cast and the unsatisfied desire she’d created. She felt only the faintest tinge of fear, and that only made the thrill more delicious.

  From outside, Nat called raggedly, “I’ve got an ax. I’ll take down the door. Don’t make me do that.”

  Aunt Ruth pulled away from the door, holding her arm as though it had already been struck by the ax’s blade. Elizabeth put her hand on her aunt’s shoulder and said, “I’ll go out to him.”

  “Elizabeth, you mustn’t. You don’t know what he’ll do.”

  I know exactly what he’ll do. “I have to. It’s the only way to keep you from being hurt.”

  “My brave girl.” Tears shone in Aunt Ruth’s eyes, and her hands trembled as she cupped Elizabeth’s face. “The men will come after you. Hold on, do you understand me? Try to—to talk to him. Keep him talking until they reach you. Can you do that?”

  “I can.” I could, if I wanted to. “Now keep the children in the back. Don’t let them see.”

  Now weeping, Aunt Ruth hurried to the back, shooing the tinier children toward darkness and safety. Elizabeth took a deep breath, then unbarred the door.

  Nat burst through before she could even open it.

  He had become wild. His golden hair was disheveled, his clothes disarrayed. His breaths came fast in his throat. In one hand Nat clutched the ax. As he looked at Elizabeth, standing there in her thin shift, his eyes darkened. “Come on,” he said, seizing her wrist. “Let’s go.”

  Elizabeth followed him, her heart singing. When they stepped outside, she could see all their neighbors had been awakened by the din; they stood in their doorways or slightly farther down on the path, huddled together, whispering. Just as Nat began towing her away from her house, a man appeared holding a rifle.

  “Don’t!” she cried, lifting one hand. “I don’t want anyone to be hurt because of me!” That sounded like the right sort of thing to say.

  The man with the rifle didn’t move, not until Nat brandished his ax. Apparently fearing Elizabeth would be injured, her would-be defender stepped away, farther into the darkness.

  “Hurry,” she whispered to Nat, and he tugged her along, backing up until their watchers were farther from them—and then, together, they ran.

  Elizabeth laughed out loud. So now they’d all know. Well, let them know. There was nothing even Widow Porter could do about it now. Besides, she liked the idea. She liked imagining Pru’s face when she heard that Nat had been so wild for Elizabeth he’d nearly beaten down her door. That would show her what a fool she’d been to ever doubt them.

  Nat didn’t seem to have a clear idea where to go; he was running away from Fortune’s Sound, but toward nothing. Judging by the superhuman strength of his grip, all he knew was that he didn’t want Elizabeth to be far away. Their destination would be up to her.

  “Remember Cornwell’s barn?” she said as they ran. A farmer named Cornwell had tried to plant too close to the coast, and the sandy soil had been the death of his crops. But the barn still stood there, ten years abandoned. “Let’s go.”

  Nat’s only response was to run in that direction, even faster. Elizabeth, unused to such vigorous physical activity, found herself struggling to keep up.

  In the darkness, they hardly saw the barn until they were fairly close to it. When they reached the threshold, Nat let the ax fall to the ground and swept Elizabeth into his arms. He carried her inside. The barn was no more than a shell of a building—loose boards jutting out, the standing supports looking like the ribs of some dead thing not yet picked clean by crows, but the bare spots in the roof overhead let the stars shine through.

  At last we’re alone, Elizabeth thought. At last nothing is in our way.

  Perhaps she would have dreamed of a soft bed in a home of their own. But the thick clover growing in what had been the barn—that was soft enough. Nat laid her down, tore away her shift, and looked down at her as though he had never seen anything so beautiful. Elizabeth felt a moment’s nervousness, but only a moment’s. Then she held out her hands to him, and he kissed her, and there could be no stopping.

  “I love you,” she whispered, helping him undress.

  “Now.” Nat sounded desperate, as though he might be on the verge of tears. “It has to be now. I can’t wait any longer, Elizabeth, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but I can’t.”

  “You don’t have to,” Elizabeth said.

  It felt different than she’d thought it would. Not that girls were ever encouraged to think of such things, but of course they did, and Elizabeth had believed she understood exactly how things would go. Of course she understood the basics—no one could help raise livestock and not comprehend that much—but it was one thing to know, another to experience it. In the initial moment, when the pain was so much greater than she’d anticipated, Elizabeth cried out, felt a shiver of real terror, and thought she’d made a horrible mistake—

  But that first pain faded quickly. Then Elizabeth knew only that Nat was with her, that they were as close as it was possible for two people to be. She could hear only his ragged cries, and her own, joining in. She reveled in the heat of his skin, the weight of his body, and above all her power over him. This was what it meant to be loved by a man, to be desired by him. This was everything she had ever wanted.

  Had anyone told her beforehand that she could fall asleep after something so tremendous, Elizabeth would have laughed. Yet when she stirred from her place amid the clover, she realized she had been asleep a few hours at least, because dawn had grayed the sky overhead.

  She also realized she lay beneath a blanket—no. Nat’s jacket. He’d spread it over her, to keep her warm.

  Smiling, Elizabeth sat up. Nat stood at the doorway to the barn, staring out at the ocean. They were close to the shore here.

  He must have heard her move, because he turned his head toward her then. But he did not look her directly in the eyes. “Are you—are you well?”

  “I’m fine. Better than fine.” Elizabeth smiled brilliantly. “How are you?”

  Nat didn’t answer her. He simply stared back out into the distance.

  Probably he thought he’d acted in too much haste. She’d have to reassure him. “It’s going to be all right. You’ll see.”

  “It can never be all right again.” His voice was dull and flat.

  Elizabeth hesitated. She hadn’t expected him to react this way. “Nat—you know that I—you know I care for you, don’t you? Last night, we didn’t do anything that I didn’t want to.”

  Her words didn’t help. Nat said, “You wanted to be married like a proper woman. The only reason you came with me was because—you thought we’d marry afterward, didn’t you?”

  “We will,” Elizabeth said. “You want to marry me. I know you do.”

  “I did.” A slight shudder passed through Nat. “Back when I thought I could be a
decent husband to you, instead of what I am, which is—oh, God. I’m no better than an animal.”

  This wasn’t going how she wanted at all. “Of course you aren’t! You simply got carried away, that’s all. So did I.”

  His laugh was a terrible sound. “You didn’t take an ax to my door.”

  She would have if she’d thought it would have worked. Elizabeth decided she needed to use the power the spell gave her. “Listen to me,” she said, relying on his suggestibility. “We’ll explain to the others. Tell them you couldn’t wait any longer, but we’d already made up our minds to be married.”

  Nat nodded, but his stare remained vacant.

  “I know your mother discouraged it, but now she’ll see what has to be done. She’ll give her consent. We’ll be married today.” Elizabeth had to pause to revel in the thrill. “Afterward, nobody can keep us apart. We’ll be together again tonight, and the night after that, and every night for the rest of our lives.”

  He didn’t quite seem to understand her. Then again—Elizabeth smiled as she realized it—no doubt he was tired, after last night.

  She slipped back into her shift; it was torn now, around the neckline, but she could still tie it decently shut. At some point soon they’d have to return to Fortune’s Sound. No doubt the people in town would be unnerved by Nat’s behavior, but surely they would see that Nat and Elizabeth had to be married right away, no matter what. Even now, she might be carrying Nat’s baby.

  That gave Elizabeth a start. A baby? As soon as—swiftly she did the math—as soon as next spring? Though she liked playing with her little cousins, sometimes she felt as though she’d spent more time raising Aunt Ruth’s children than being a child herself. They were only now big enough to see to themselves most of the time. Would she be burdened with another baby only a year after she’d finished caring for the others?