George said.
Isaac nodded.
“How are you handling all of this?” Em asked.
“I’ve tried to work out every detail since I was told, Grandmother,” Isaac said. “My father as well.”
“And you’re all right with all of this . . . detail?” Em asked.
“Fascinated at the power of God,” Isaac said.
Em smiled at him and sat down in one of the armchairs in front of his desk.
“Where were we?” Em asked.
“Hanging, awakening,” George said. “Martha and John were hanged on my day.”
“George Jacobs and John Proctor, too, but their families came for them,” Em said.
“They didn’t become immortal?” Isaac asked.
“Not that we know of,” Em said.
“Just those of us in the crevice,” George said.
“It’s hard to explain,” Em said. “I thought . . . I mean, I don’t know why I thought this, but I did.”
She looked at George and then at Isaac.
“I thought maybe our hanging wasn’t done well,” Em said. “I mean, by the time I was hanged, people were already talking about ending the witch trials. I guess I figured we woke up because they’d botched the hangings. We hadn’t really been dead.”
“You weren’t revived from death but recovered from passing out,” Isaac said. “That’s denial. ‘They didn’t really do this to me. It didn’t really happen.’”
“Exactly. That’s what I believed until . . .” Em looked at George. “George and Martha . . . They were . . .rotten. Small animals ate more than one meal from George.”
“And we woke up,” George said. He took the armchair next to Em.
“They woke up,” Em said. “The rest were worse — Sarah Good, Susannah, Elizabeth, and Sarah Wildes.”
“They were hanged in July,” George said. “Bridget in June.”
“If you can imagine, there was no embalming. It was a warm summer,” Em said. “It was . . . disgusting. The weird thing, well, the whole thing is weird, but a weird thing was that the people who were rotten didn’t mind being rotten.”
“We were happy to be alive,” George said.
Em nodded.
“I don’t know how long we were there,” Em said. “Gallows Hill was outside of town, but you could see it from every part of town. We were there most of the night, cleaning up and getting our functions back, some.”
“It took years for some of it to come back,” George said. “Especially for those of us who had been dead a while.”
“Giles,” Em said. “He had been pressed to death a couple days before I was hanged.”
“He was there, too?” Isaac asked.
“He was in with us,” Em said.
“The refuse pile,” George said.
“You remember that I had sons?” Em asked George.
“Two,” George said.
“An hour or so before dawn, I went to my teenaged son,” Em said. “He and I were very close. I knew he wouldn’t be afraid; I knew he would know me regardless of how crazy I looked. He didn’t say a word. Of course, I couldn’t talk. He got the horse and wagon he used for his apprenticeship and brought it to Gallows Hill. He and I moved everyone in the wagon. We had to move fast because dawn was coming. He took Alice home to her husband because she was so adamant. Everyone else, he took to a homestead ten miles or more outside of town.”
“Whose was that?” George asked.
“Mine,” Em said. “Well, my late husband’s. He’d bought it for his parents. He hadn’t used it because his parents died before they made it to the US.”
“They died in England?” George asked.
“Right,” Em said. “We’d been married in England. They asked us not to go, but . . . Anyway, the house had been torn down, but the barn was still there.”
“Barn,” George said. “Yes.”
“Someone had to go, get out of Salem Village, and figure out how we would survive,” Em said. “I was in the best shape, so it had to be me. My son dropped me with Alice. Luckily, John, Alice’s husband, let me tag along with them as far as Boston. They went on to the South — North
Isaac nodded.
“How are you handling all of this?” Em asked.
“I’ve tried to work out every detail since I was told, Grandmother,” Isaac said. “My father as well.”
“And you’re all right with all of this . . . detail?” Em asked.
“Fascinated at the power of God,” Isaac said.
Em smiled at him and sat down in one of the armchairs in front of his desk.
“Where were we?” Em asked.
“Hanging, awakening,” George said. “Martha and John were hanged on my day.”
“George Jacobs and John Proctor, too, but their families came for them,” Em said.
“They didn’t become immortal?” Isaac asked.
“Not that we know of,” Em said.
“Just those of us in the crevice,” George said.
“It’s hard to explain,” Em said. “I thought . . . I mean, I don’t know why I thought this, but I did.”
She looked at George and then at Isaac.
“I thought maybe our hanging wasn’t done well,” Em said. “I mean, by the time I was hanged, people were already talking about ending the witch trials. I guess I figured we woke up because they’d botched the hangings. We hadn’t really been dead.”
“You weren’t revived from death but recovered from passing out,” Isaac said. “That’s denial. ‘They didn’t really do this to me. It didn’t really happen.’”
“Exactly. That’s what I believed until . . .” Em looked at George. “George and Martha . . . They were . . .rotten. Small animals ate more than one meal from George.”
“And we woke up,” George said. He took the armchair next to Em.
“They woke up,” Em said. “The rest were worse — Sarah Good, Susannah, Elizabeth, and Sarah Wildes.”
“They were hanged in July,” George said. “Bridget in June.”
“If you can imagine, there was no embalming. It was a warm summer,” Em said. “It was . . . disgusting. The weird thing, well, the whole thing is weird, but a weird thing was that the people who were rotten didn’t mind being rotten.”
“We were happy to be alive,” George said.
Em nodded.
“I don’t know how long we were there,” Em said. “Gallows Hill was outside of town, but you could see it from every part of town. We were there most of the night, cleaning up and getting our functions back, some.”
“It took years for some of it to come back,” George said. “Especially for those of us who had been dead a while.”
“Giles,” Em said. “He had been pressed to death a couple days before I was hanged.”
“He was there, too?” Isaac asked.
“He was in with us,” Em said.
“The refuse pile,” George said.
“You remember that I had sons?” Em asked George.
“Two,” George said.
“An hour or so before dawn, I went to my teenaged son,” Em said. “He and I were very close. I knew he wouldn’t be afraid; I knew he would know me regardless of how crazy I looked. He didn’t say a word. Of course, I couldn’t talk. He got the horse and wagon he used for his apprenticeship and brought it to Gallows Hill. He and I moved everyone in the wagon. We had to move fast because dawn was coming. He took Alice home to her husband because she was so adamant. Everyone else, he took to a homestead ten miles or more outside of town.”
“Whose was that?” George asked.
“Mine,” Em said. “Well, my late husband’s. He’d bought it for his parents. He hadn’t used it because his parents died before they made it to the US.”
“They died in England?” George asked.
“Right,” Em said. “We’d been married in England. They asked us not to go, but . . . Anyway, the house had been torn down, but the barn was still there.”
“Barn,” George said. “Yes.”
“Someone had to go, get out of Salem Village, and figure out how we would survive,” Em said. “I was in the best shape, so it had to be me. My son dropped me with Alice. Luckily, John, Alice’s husband, let me tag along with them as far as Boston. They went on to the South — North
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