Chapter 14

She reached the village as most of the shops were opening. The sidewalks were bustling with shoppers. Usually Saturday was the busy day but she suspected with the death of Mrs. Parker everyone would want to be as close to the action as they could get, or at least what they perceived as action.

On the Parker shop the windows were like empty eyes and the doors were closed and barred. A large sign hung in the center of the door, with bold black words. “Closed indefinitely due to mourning.” There were flowers sitting on the walk in front of the door. Samantha covered her mouth and blinked back the tears. Everyone had liked Mrs. Parker.

“Samantha Channing? Drusilla, it is Samantha. My dear, you’ve become quite lovely.”

At the sound of her name she turned and saw two small, elderly women peering up at her in curiosity, their round pale blue eyes magnified by small round glasses. The Misses Tyndale were well known in the village. They were the twin daughters of Horace Tyndale, a prominent Council member who had knack for being relected. He had served six terms as a Council member and had served in lesser offices under direction of the Council. His daughters had never married and still lived in the house they grew up in. As far as Samantha knew, she had never seen one without the other.

“Priscilla’s correct and you’re the image of your mother. How are you my dear?” Drusilla said.

“You were very fond of dear Beatrice. It would only be natural to be upset,” Priscilla added, reaching out and patting Samantha’s arm with a cool, papery hand. “Terrible thing to happen. Beatrice wouldn’t hurt a fly. They say it was an outsider, perhaps someone from the Outland.”

“Yes,” Drusilla said, “Someone suggested it was a newcomer but all of them are accounted for and besides, they get whatever they need for free. They’ve no reason to kill anyone.”

“Drusilla and I think it was something else.” She turned her head and shot a sidelong look at Sam, nodding.

“What else?” Samantha asked.

The sisters looked at each other and closed ranks, Drusilla on the left and Priscilla on the right, their shoulders touching, as they leaned toward Samantha. The Drusilla held up her hand to shield her mouth and said in a whisper, “They say it was someone who came through the mist but came ashore secretly.”

Priscilla nodded in agreement.

Samantha felt a chill along her arms as the wind picked up. “Who says?”

Again they looked at each other with small, tight smiles and nodded and then looked back at Sam. Priscilla winked at her and said, “They say that it is possible someone came through the mist but they didn’t come into the harbor, possibly at the white beach. They would have been looking for supplies, wouldn’t they?”

Sam started. It was what she had seen in her own vision. The white beach was an isolated beach, hard to reach, seldom used except for occasional swimmers, and little patrolled, something the Council had frequently addressed. But who else would know this? “How do you know this?”

Drusilla smiled and clasped her hands at her waist. “Samantha, WE have connections. We know what we want to know.”

Priscilla smoothed the skirt of her dress and adjusted her hat. “We have to be going Samantha. Why don’t you come by for tea soon and we can talk more. It was lovely to see you, although,” and she turned saddened eyes to the vacant windows of the shop, “not under such circumstances.”

“I. . .” Samantha began.

“I’m sorry dear, we really must be going.” Priscilla interrupted. It would seem she was the leader of this duo. “We have to stop by the church to clean the sanctuary in preparation for the funeral. Do come by.” They sailed around her and marched up the street, leaving Samantha staring after them.

She couldn’t pick up the things she needed at Sea Side Supplies and so with great reluctance and a heavy heart, she made her way down Front Street, toward the docks. A close friend of her father’s had a small shop named The Block and Tackle and she would not feel so much like a traitor making her purchases there.

William Rivers was a large man, standing well over six feet with broad shoulders and a barrel chest, sparkling blue eyes, and a head of thick blond hair. His face was also filled with hair, a large bushy beard split by a white grin most of the time. He always reminded Sam of a blond bear. As a child, he would swing her up on his shoulders and she felt as if she sat on top of a mountain. When she was a little girl, she’d watched many horse races sitting on those broad shoulders. From his shoulders she could see over any crowd.

“Mornin’ me darlin’,” he boomed as she walked into the door. The glass in the windows rattled. “About time ya paid your uncle Will a visit.”

He came from behind the counter and caught her up in a bear hug, lifting her feet from the floor as he did so. She laughed, pushing against his chest. “Uncle Will, you must stop. Someday you’ll crush my bones.”

“Ah, you’re a strong lass. You can stand a good hug.” He set her back on her feet and away from him. His brow furrowed as his eyes searched her face. “I heard about Mrs. Parker. Lord, whole town’s heard. I’m sorry, Sammy. I know she was more than your employer. If there’s anything I can do.”

“Uncle Will, I don’t know that anyone can do anything.”

For several minutes both were silent. Then, he said, “Come in and sit a bit. I’ll close up for a short while and we can visit. I have some hot tea on the stove.”

“You don’t have to close for me. Besides, I can’t stay long. I need to buy a few things.”

“I’ll always shut down to spend a moment with you, sweetheart. I’ve missed seeing you lately. Martha will be disappointed she missed you, too.” He flipped the sign on the door to closed and waved her to follow him to the back where he had a small kitchen. She sat and waited while he poured tea for each of them.

“How is Aunt Martha?” Samantha asked. She has spent many hours at the Rivers’ home and the couple had become second parents. When she was eight, her mother had fallen ill and had to go on complete bed rest. The boys had been old enough to care for themselves but her father had not been able to care for a little girl and a sick wife. The Rivers had taken her home with them and for three months, she had lived with them, visiting her parents several times a week. When her mother had recovered, Samantha went home but forever after, the Rivers’ home has been a place she regularly visited.

“Not so good since her last attack. I’ve had to practically fire her. The doctor says she shouldn’t be working in the store so often. I cut her back to three days but she insist on popping in every day and then she finds something she has to do while she is here.”

“Uncle Will, I. . . I am sorry I haven’t come by more often. After . . . after they died I just buried myself in the farm and work.”

“Ah, stop your foolish talk. You visited. We knew it was hard on you. You had to deal with it in your own way. I just hate that now you have this on top of it all.”

Samantha didn’t answer but sipped her tea and studied the ring her cup had formed on the table. Circles was a good motif for life lately. Things seemed to be going around and around in her mind. She wondered if the Rivers had known her father’s sister, Isabel. One way to find out, she thought. “John is taking me to the Outland tomorrow, Uncle Will.”

He sat his cup down and sat up straight in his chair. “What? And what may be in Outland that you need?”

She watched his face and said, “He’s taking me to see Isabel.”

The sound of her voice was swallowed up by silence. Will Rivers face blanched and he slumped back into his chair, his hands falling to his sides. Obviously, she thought, he knew Isabel.

“Who told you about Isabel?” he asked.

“John.”

He shook his head and lowered his eyes to stare at the floor. “He shouldna’ done that. Your dad never wanted you to know about her.”

“So I gather. Why would that be, I wonder?”

“Samantha, your father wanted that time to be forgotten.”

“To forget his own sister?”

The fierce glare he directed at her disconcerted her. “NO! He wanted to forget that people he called friend betrayed him, betrayed his whole family. He wanted the island to forget her.”

She had no response for that. “She was . . . is a seer.”

He clamped his mouth until it disappeared behind his beard and he looked away, through the back window. Disgust emanated from him like smoke from a green fire. The big fingers of his hand rapidly tapped the table until she reached across and stopped him.

“Uncle Will?”

He looked down at her hand covering his and his mouth reappeared. “They say she is. I never asked her. It was their business. I don’t know if such things exist but if they do, God has a reason that is none of my business.” And he raised his eyes to meet hers.

Samantha’s mouth fell open and her breath left her in a rush as she sat back in her chair, her hands falling to her sides now. He knew.

She pushed the realization aside and said, “I need some supplies. I don’t know how far we will be going and I want to be sure we have what we need.”

“John will see to it but it isn’t far. A day’s journey from your place.” He stood. “But you might want to take some things for your Aunt Isabel. Supplies into the Outland are limited. Not many folks want to deal with them. I will put together things I think they can use.”

She rose and followed him back into the shop. As he set about checking shelves and pulling things down and setting them on the counter she questioned him. “How well did you know her?”

“We grew up together. We all were born here, weren’t newcomers. Your father’s family and mine were on neighboring farms. So I’ve know Isabel since she was born. We played together, went to school together, attended each other’s weddings, attended church. All of us together. Your parents were my best friends and then, Martha’s, too. Isabel was gone by then.”

“I just don’t understand how she could just run away from home like that. Her family, friends. . .”

“Friends? She became a pariah when she refused to be their fortuneteller and her family suffered virtually the same fate. She left to protect them and to find peace for herself. They did not want her to go but after it was done, they realized that it was her only choice. If she was not to be hounded to death and they were to live in any kind of peace, she had to leave.”

Samantha compared John’s telling of Isabel’s banishment with Uncle Will’s. John’s version came from a distance, through their father’s remorse and anger decades after the event. Will Rivers had witnessed the same events first hand and from a different angle.

“You’ve no idea what it was like for her, Samantha. The Council rules these matters with an iron hand. Those elected may be considered the finest in the communities but power, as they say, corrupts. There have been times when those who served on the Council would have given anything to be able to leave this island. Someone with the power to tell them how to do that would have to be controlled.”

“But she saw when they came through, not that they could leave!” Samantha protested.

He looked at Samantha in silence for several minutes before he lowered his eyes and with quiet deliberation set a bag of flour on the counter and turned back to the shelves.

“She couldn’t tell when they could leave, Uncle Will,” she repeated. “It doesn’t work that way.”

She counted five heartbeats before he answered.

“Perhaps what you say is true.” He turned and looked into her eyes, “But the Council wouldn’t know that, would they?”

Her breath caught in her throat as she realized the impact of his statement. In a breathless whisper she said, “Uncle Will . . .” Her mind reeled as the implications mounted. “She couldn’t see if they could leave. . . could she?”

Will Rivers dropped a second bag of flour on top of the first and a gentle cloud wafted upward. “I guess you’ll have to ask Isabel.”