When we got to the log bridge, we went halfway across and sat down, letting our feet dangle as we listened to the water rush below us. I opened my backpack and took out a piece of paper and wrote Dr. Overbrook’s name, then placed it in the center of his photo, rolling them up together and stuffing them inside the bottle of Four Thieves vinegar. Then I stopped the lid with the cork.
“What do we do now?” Elise said.
“We call to Papa Legba,” I said.
“Papa who?” Elise said.
“Papa Legba,” Michelle said. “The guardian of the spirit world.”
“Is she for real?” Elise said to Jess, who just shrugged.
“If you don’t believe, it’s not going to work,” I said. “Now we all have to say this together.” I fed them the lines Darlene had written down, and we chanted them in unison.
“Papa Legba, hear our plea. Remove this obstacle from our path.”
I told them to visualize Dr. Overbrook’s face—his beady eyes, his oily lips, his purple birthmark—as I tossed the bottle into the stream. Then we all repeated
good-bye
three times as we watched the bottle get swept out of sight.
Afterward, we sat for a minute, stunned and a little scared by what we’d done. But then Elise roused us all with a bottle of rum she’d smuggled, and we began the trek up to the witch caves, with me walking point.
“I didn’t know it was all uphill,” Elise said. “I would have worn my hiking boots.”
“We’re almost there,” I said.
We ascended upon that now-familiar knoll, studded with rocks and shrubs. “Welcome to Casa Emma,” I said, beckoning them to follow me inside.
Aiming our flashlights into the entrance, we crawled through the overgrowth and into the cave. “Sorry about the décor,” I said as four flashlight beams arced against the bare walls.
We pulled out our sleeping bags and arranged them in a circle, with Michelle’s Coleman lantern perched in the center like some ancient totem.
“We bow down to you, oh god of the cave,” Jess said, erupting into hysterics.
“And she hasn’t had any rum yet,” Elise said.
“Speaking of which,” I said, “I think a toast is in order.”
Elise pulled some Dixie cups from her bag and poured us each a shot. “To Michelle,” I said as we raised our cups up to meet. “The best roommate a girl could have.”
“And the best lab partner,” Elise said.
“And the best girlfriend,” Jess said.
Michelle leaned over and kissed Jess, and the two of them got all gooey-eyed.
“Aw,” Elise said. “This is so damn cute. Let’s sing!”
We treated Michelle to a very loud version of the birthday song that echoed off the cave walls. After a few ill-advised ghost stories and some more gratuitous female bonding, we were all laughing hysterically, succumbing to the rum. But as the night wore on and we grew tired, Michelle and Jess curled up together in their sleeping bag. Elise was attempting to sleep upright since she couldn’t stand the tiny rocks jutting into her back. The Princess and the Pea had nothing on her.
I lay on the ground tossing and turning, trying to sleep. But I couldn’t banish the image of Gray in the mirror. Was he my soul mate? Were we really destined to get married? Or had I seen what I’d wanted to see?
Was there any real magic in this world? Or was I just crazy?
As I fell into that hazy state between lucidity and sleep, I startled at a shuffling sound outside the cave. Shivering, I recalled all the various scenarios I’d given in answer to Elise’s question:
What could possibly go wrong?
I glanced around for my friends on the cave floor and panicked when I saw that I was alone.
Impossible!
They wouldn’t have left me here by myself, not after what had happened to me in February. That would be the cruelest practical joke ever, and even Elise couldn’t be that mean.
Maybe I was still asleep. I lay back down and shut my eyes, trying to conjure some sign that I was dreaming. When I opened them, I was lying on a rug looking at an empty hearth and a table with sewing needles. This was Hester’s cottage. Hester and Pearl weren’t here, but I had a feeling they were somewhere nearby. And I knew I was supposed to see them one last time.
I’d fallen into this trance so many times before, but this time I wanted to maintain control. I wanted to remain lucid. Like Darlene had warned me, I had to be an active seeker of truth, not a passive victim of controlling spirits.
I tried to remember all of Darlene’s advice. Tell your body to stay put, and create a mirror image of yourself to send out into the dream. I imagined myself a dolphin, half of my mind shut down to let me rest; the other half active and alert. It was this second half I sent out wandering.
Feeling like an airy spirit, I crept outside of myself and left the cave, amazed by how bright it was in the forest. The moon, almost full, lit the clearing like a stage set in a play. Standing quietly, I listened for the muffled sounds I’d heard before and jolted when I heard someone say, “Is it you?”
The voice was so familiar that I wasn’t frightened. When I spun around, I was no longer wearing my T-shirt and pajama pants, but instead, Hester’s gray frock with a red cloak, my head covered in a black cap. From my chest shined the scarlet letter.
When I lifted my gaze, I saw the figure of a man dressed in black with dark hair and dark stubble. Dimmesdale. But when he stepped forward into the light, I saw those sad hazel eyes staring at me.
“Gray?” I whispered.
He came toward me and spoke with a burning regret. “Do you know what a relief it is to look into an eye that recognizes me? When I see you, it’s as if I’ve come home. I see only truth and goodness in your eyes.” He was speaking Dimmesdale’s lines, and yet every word made sense.
“I am neither true nor good,” I said. “I’ve made so many mistakes. Can you forgive me?”
He came a step closer and took both of my hands in his. With deep sadness in his voice, he said, “Of course I forgive you. I made mistakes, too, the worst of which was leaving you. But I never stopped loving you.”
“Nor have I,” I said. With desperate tenderness, I threw my arms around him, pressing my head against his chest to hear that familiar heartbeat. He let me stand like that for a long time without speaking.
“Be strong for me,” he said. “Advise me what to do.”
“There is the broad pathway of the sea,” I said. “It brought you here. If you choose, it can take you back again.” As I spoke the words, I knew I was repeating Hester’s lines to Dimmesdale, but right now I meant them all. “Let’s get on a boat and sail far away from this place, go to some rural village in Ireland, or to France or Italy, a place where no one can find us.”
“I can’t,” he said, although his eyes were wistful, longing for the dream. “I have to fulfill the mission I started. Lost as I am, I must do what I can for others who are lost. I can’t quit my post, or my punishment might as well be death.”
How was it that Gray’s mission of saving lives had become tantamount to Dimmesdale’s mission of saving souls? They were both so desperate to atone for their pasts that they’d become martyrs to the cause. And yet Gray—the Gray waiting for me back in my real world—was about to give up that cause for me. Could I really let him do that?
“You are still crushed under your guilt,” I said, trying to buoy him up with my own energy. “You are paying for the mistakes of your past. But you can leave it all behind and begin again with me.”
“Oh, Emma!” he said, and we were no longer Hester and Dimmesdale, only ourselves. “I’m so sorry. I was a fool to leave you once. I can’t do it again.”
“Let’s not look back,” I said. “The past is gone. This is the beginning of our future.” And with that, I undid the clasp fastening the scarlet letter and tossed it to the ground. Then I took off my cloak and cap, too, letting my hair fly loose from its bindings. At that moment, I knew I was in a dream, yet I didn’t want the dream to end.
Gray removed his jacket, and I approached him slowly, a feverish heat rising to my face. I gently pulled his shirt open to reveal his broad chest, bare except for his dog tags, which appeared to be burning his skin. I moved the pendants aside and laid my finger on the scar left there, tracing its shape. Gray’s gaze lingered on me as I touched his skin, so hot I thought it might burn me, too. I leaned in and tenderly kissed the scar, my lips brushing softly across each line. When I pulled away the mark was gone, as if I’d somehow erased his pain.
Gray took my hand and led me down to a log by the stream. “I have a strange feeling that this brook is the boundary between two worlds,” he said, “and that if I leave now, I will never be able to cross it again.”
“Then stay with me,” I said, turning to kiss him. Our lips met gently at first, and then his mouth pressed hard against mine. For a moment, I lost all sense.
But the stench of rotting leaves and decaying matter brought me out of my fog. We both pulled away, gasping for breath, as we watched Chillingworth limp toward us with Pearl in tow.
The last time I was here, Chillingworth had tried to bury me alive, and he’d taken Pearl with him. Now she pointed at me with her forefinger, and a frown gathered on her brow. In the stream below us was her reflected form with the same condemning gesture. Then she burst into a fit of passion, gesticulating violently and shrieking so loudly that the woods reverberated on all sides.
I knew what the problem was. I had taken off Hester’s scarlet letter, and Pearl couldn’t bear the sight of her mother without it. Just seconds ago, I had flung the letter recklessly into space, had felt one moment’s peace at the thought of Gray and me running away together. Like Hester and Dimmesdale, we had foolishly let ourselves believe we could escape our responsibilities. But here it was again—the scarlet letter, symbol of the burdens we all carried. All my passion and optimism seemed to wither in an instant as the moon disappeared behind a cloud.
Chillingworth held a skeletal hand out to Gray, who let himself be led away as if by his executioner.
Wait! How can he just leave? Why doesn’t he fight?
But then I understood. He was facing up to his obligations. Just as Hester couldn’t shed her scarlet letter, neither could Dimmesdale shed his past or run from his mistakes. And neither could Gray and I. We all had to face the consequences of our choices.
I got up from the ground and walked to the spot where the scarlet letter lay on the forest floor. When I picked it up, it had the heft of a lead weight. This was the burden Hester had borne for all these years. Reluctantly, I attempted to fulfill Hester’s destiny by fastening the letter back onto my chest. But the pin pierced me in the heart, and I doubled over, feeling an intense pain rip through me, like someone was tearing off my skin. Some force deep inside me was pushing outward, and the pressure was almost unbearable.
Every nerve felt raw and exposed, like I was suddenly standing naked to the elements, facing the truth for the first time. After what felt like a violent internal combustion, I dropped to the ground, feeling weak and utterly exhausted. And then I looked up and saw them—Hester and Pearl. They were holding hands beside me, and I was standing on the outside, alone.
They gazed at me and held out their free hands. Slowly, I walked to meet them and grasped their hands, so the three of us were linked together—my past, present, and future colliding at this crossroads in the woods.
Pearl said to her mother, “Will we go back, we three together, into the town?”
“Not now,” Hester said. “We must face our future. And Emma must face hers.” Then she kissed my brow tenderly. “Farewell, Emma,” she said.
“Am I not coming with you?”
“No,” she said. “I have but one journey to make. But you . . . have many paths to choose.”
“How do I know which is the right one?” I said.
“There is no right path,” she said. “How would you know the right path if you never chose the wrong one?”
“But . . . I don’t know where to go,” I said.
“Follow your heart,” she said. “It will not steer you wrong.” Then she grabbed Pearl’s hand and the two of them disappeared into the woods, leaving me on my own.
Hester had said she knew what her journey was. Sadly, I knew it, too. Hester and Pearl would go to the town square tomorrow, where Dimmesdale would deliver his last sermon. There, he would invite Hester and Pearl to stand with him on the scaffold. He would strip away his clothes and reveal the scarlet letter singed onto his chest. Then he would collapse and die, freeing his soul from the tyranny of Chillingworth’s revenge.
And Chillingworth, deprived of his only reason to live, would die shortly afterward, leaving his fortune to Pearl, making her the richest heiress of her day. Hester, always stoic and strong, would persevere. She would take Pearl to Europe, and in her absence, her scarlet letter would become woven into legend.
But one day, Hester would return to this place and take up residence in her old cottage. Yet the townspeople would have forgotten all about her former transgressions. In fact, because of her independence and strength, people would speculate that the
A
on her breast stood for
Able,
not
Adultery
. And Hester Prynne, the former outcast and sinner, would become a counselor for all women with nowhere else to turn. In a sense, Hester would reinvent herself.
In a daze, I moved away from the stream and found my way back to Hester’s cottage. But I felt like I was returning to myself. I lay down on the floor and closed my eyes, hoping to wake in the morning to find not Hester and Pearl, but my real friends. My real life. My future.
Hester’s story was over; mine was just beginning.
C
HAPTER
26
I
woke inside the cave once again. Only this time, it wasn’t pitch dark, and I wasn’t alone. My friends were gathered around me, asking me questions like at the end of
The Wizard of Oz
.
Michelle: “Emma, are you okay?”
Jess: “How many fingers am I holding up?”
And this gem from Elise: “Get this girl a toothbrush.”