*Lila*
I walk beside Caitie toward the market, her small hand tucked into mine. Caitie skips, humming a little tune, her basket bouncing against her side. I try to match her cheer, but there’s a heaviness in my chest I can’t shake.
We stop at a stall where a woman sells freshly gathered chestnuts, her apron smudged with soil. I smile politely, fumbling for coins, and two men’s voices carry from just behind us.
“The English family’s still in a Boston jail,” one says. “They say they’ll not return to Salem at all, lest the magistrates take hold of them again.”
The other man spits into the dirt. “Best that way. Their name’s tainted. Wouldn’t want their trouble spreading here.”
Their words send a shiver down my spine. I remember reading about Philip and Mary English. Their wealth and power
