“Mass murderer in the 1970s. Innocent face, baby-blue eyes. Shot girls in their cars. Cars and murderers seem to go together. Neighbors said he looked like a nice boy.”

“Why are you reading books about mass murderers? There’s enough in the local paper.”

“I want to know how their minds work. Then maybe I — ”

The doorbell rang.

“The pizza man cometh,” Jerram said.

But it was the Reverend Joan Fairley, come to talk about what happened in church. She said a lot of the same things Rose said in her report on the Salem witches. When people were frightened and upset, they looked for something or someone to blame.

Mom nodded along with the words, but Dad frowned.

“That’s all well and good, but this is the twentieth century, and Mrs. Emerson is an intelligent woman. There’s no excuse for what she said to Rosecleer. She’s responsible, and she’s the one who should be up here apologizing.”

“1 understand how you feel,” Joan Fairley said. “With all due respect, no, I don’t think you know how I feel. My daughter was made a fool of in front of half the town. Are we supposed to just forgive and forget?”

“Carl,” Mom cautioned, but he was not to be stopped.

“There’s a limit,” he said. “What happens to the multitudes may be God’s design, but what happens to my daughter is my business.”

Joan Fairley stood up. “My concerns are with the soul, Mr. Potter. If I can be of any help or comfort to you in that capacity, please let me know.”

“Thanks for coming by,” Mom said, seeing her to the door. The pizza man was standing there, ready to knock. Mom juggled shaking the Reverend Joan’s hand and paying for the pizza. She came back into the living room, bringing an aroma of sausage and anchovies and a whiff of the cold outdoors.

“Really, Carl,” she said, standing in the living room doorway, balancing the pizza box in her arms.

But Dad stood his ground. “One thing you need to learn is to be responsible for what you say in this world. Be willing to back it up, stand up for it, stand by it. I don’t think Mrs. Emerson is prepared to do that.”

“Of course she won’t stand by it, not in this day and age,” Mom said. “Nobody believes in witches anymore.”

“Superstition is a powerful force,” Dad said. The way he said it made Rose feel very still for a moment.

Then Mom announced, “Let’s eat this thing before it gets cold.”