“How’s your little friend?” she asked. “How’s Henry? We’ve been so worried.”
“How do you know about Henry?” I asked her.
“He was mentioned,” she said. “At church.”
“I think he’s going to be okay. I hope he will be. My mom told me he’s not in intensive care anymore. But that’s partly why I came,” I said. “I thought maybe you would know.” Constance looked at me, puzzled, until I went on. “Can you tell my fortune?” I asked her.
“Of course,” she said. “Let’s get out the cards.”
* * *
—
Constance and I settled ourselves in the living room, and she asked her helper to make some tea. Then she dealt out the cards with her crooked fingers and began. “Let’s see what we have,” she said. Of course she gave me only good news. And some of it might have been made up. I mean, who ever heard of a fortune-teller reminding you to study and do all your homework? But she wasn’t telling me what I wanted to know most, and so I had to ask.
“What about Henry?” I asked. “He’ll be all right, won’t he?”
Her expression changed, and she looked more serious.
“Barbara Anne,” she said gently. “Nobody knows the future. I wish I could tell you what lies ahead, but I can’t. I can only say that whatever it is, happy or sad, you won’t be in it alone. You have family and good friends.”
“I know,” I said. “But Henry is my only close friend.”
“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true,” she said. “And even if it were, he’s taught you, already, how to make others. That’s what our friends do for us.”
“Did Edgar do that?” I asked. “For you?”
Constance nodded.
“You must miss him,” I said.
“I do,” she told me. “But he’s with me still. I like to think of Edgar as my guardian angel.”
“I think he’s Henry’s too,” I said.
“Well,” she told me. “I guess I don’t mind sharing.”
I offered to carry her teacup to the kitchen, and when I got back, I saw that Constance had closed her eyes. At first, I thought she was just resting for a minute, but it went on too long. I knew she must be asleep or…I leaned across the table and stared at her as hard as I could in the dim light. I held my own breath until I saw her chest was moving. Then I got up and headed to the door. Miss Leary’s helper stepped out into the hallway.
“She fell asleep,” I said. “Will you tell her I said goodbye?”
“Of course,” she said. “She’s asleep more often than not these days.”
My jacket was hanging on a hook in the hallway. And as I reached for it, I saw a photo I had never noticed before. It was a picture of Edgar and a girl with dark, curly hair, a girl who looked a little…like me.
“Beautiful children, weren’t they?” Miss Leary’s helper asked. “It’s hard to believe Constance was ever that young. And the boy was so talented. A prodigy on the piano. Such a shame. You’re a dear to visit her. I hope we see you again soon.”
I told her I would be back soon, though I had no idea if it was true. Then I took my jacket and stood outside on the porch, waiting for my mother. The lights were on in Henry’s house, and I could see Sophie in the window watering a plant. It looked so cozy, and I wished more than anything that I could ring the bell, that Henry would be there to open the door and welcome me.
* * *
—
At school the next day, we were scheduled to share our artifact reports, and it was Renee’s turn. She stood in front of the class, looking straight down at her paper. Her voice was soft and a little shaky. “When most people think of Thomas Edison, they think of this,” she said, and she held up a lightbulb. “Or they remember that he created the phonograph and the first motion pictures. He was a brilliant man. People called him the Wizard of Menlo Park, and he had more than a thousand patents for inventions.”
I was sleepy and still worried about Henry, and I’ll admit that I wasn’t listening too closely. I guess I expected it to be the usual stuff. You know, when he was born and when he died and a long, dull list of everything he invented. But then Renee started talking about something I’d never heard of before: a spirit phone.
“The spirit phone, or spirit box, may have been the last invention that Edison worked on,” Renee said. “And nobody knows if he ever finished it or even if he left behind drawings. Some people said that it was just a joke that Edison was playing and not even a real thing.”
Renee stopped for a minute then and looked out nervously at the class.
“Go on,” Ms. Biniam said. “Tell us more, Renee.”
Renee went on, but she wasn’t even looking at her paper anymore. She was just talking to all of us. “Well,” she said. “It was right after World War One, and a lot of people died in that war. So people were interested in finding ways to communicate with the people they had lost. And Edison, he was a scientist, so he didn’t believe in most of the things that they were doing, like séances and mediums who try to talk to the dead. But he did think that maybe some part of us, our personalities, I guess, might go on. So some people say that he was building a machine, the last and greatest machine of his career, to record…the voices of ghosts.”
“What do you think, Renee?” Ms. Biniam asked.
“Well, I’m not sure,” Renee said. “But there was this guy, this journalist in France, and he says he found a section of Edison’s diary that nobody else had ever seen. And it was all about finding ways to reconnect with people who have died. And I think he could have done it, maybe, if he’d had more time. Because sometimes it does seem like the past isn’t really over and done with. And everyone would have been rooting for him, to find a way, you know, to deliver those messages to the people who needed them. And that way people could have something besides just memories.”
There was so much feeling in her voice. I could hear it gathering as each word joined the next. It was like watching raindrops slide down a window, merge, and fall.
When she finished and took her seat, Ms. Biniam said quietly, “Thank you, Renee.”
* * *
—
When school was ending the next day, Ms. Biniam said, “I have a special project, and I need a volunteer.”
I barely heard her. I wasn’t really paying attention. I was stuffing a worksheet inside my backpack and wondering if we would keep getting this much homework right through winter break. Probably we would. Biniam was relentless. She was also staring right at me.
“Barbara Anne?” she asked. “Wouldn’t you like to volunteer?”
“For what?” I asked.
“The army,” Zack said, and then laughed alone at his own joke.
“To make a special delivery,” she said. “Henry needs his homework, and I thought you might like to bring it to him.”
“You’re making him do homework in the hospital?” I asked.
“Of course not,” she said. “He was discharged. This morning.”
Biniam was smiling. I nearly started to cry.
* * *
—
I was so happy to see Henry that I really didn’t want to even think about anything that came before. Still, a part of me was curious too. I had to know—how it was for him.
“Do you remember it?” I asked him. “Any of it?”
“Not really,” he said. “I was dreaming.”
And then he told me—one last time—about them.
In the dream, it seemed to Henry that his mother was with him, sitting on the edge of the bed. She faced away from him, with her hands covering her face. She was crying. Henry said that he tried to ask her what was wrong, but she didn’t seem to be able to hear him. And when he tried to sit up, to put his arm around her, Henry realized that he couldn’t move. This strange, sudden paralysis scared Henry more than hi
s mother’s tears. He didn’t understand why his body had stopped working. But it had. He was pinned down to the bed as if someone were holding him there. All he could do was listen to his mother sob and watch the strange, dark shadows pass across the ceiling.
“They looked like clouds,” Henry said. “Like storm clouds forming.”
Eventually, she stopped crying and turned toward him. And that’s when Henry realized his mistake. As she leaned forward to kiss his forehead, Henry saw that she wasn’t his mother at all. And when her cold lips touched Henry’s brow, she whispered her own son’s name: “Edgar,” she said.
She reached toward Henry’s throat, and he tried to scream, but no sound came.
Gently, she adjusted something at his neck, tied a knot, and patted Henry’s chest. Then the ghost rose up and unfolded a huge white sheet. It opened over Henry’s head like a parachute and floated down softly, landing across his face and body, covering Henry in gauzy white from head to toe.
“He’s ready now,” Henry heard her say.
And his eyes flew open.
“And you were there,” Henry said. “When the doctors came running in. How did you get there, Barbara Anne?”
I didn’t know what else to say, so I told him the truth. “Edgar sent me,” I answered.
“Edgar?” Henry asked, and so I nodded.
“You know,” Henry said. “He was all I thought about while I was in the hospital. And being all cooped up in there alone…well, I think I finally understand him, Barbara Anne. It must have been so awful for him, trapped in that room, our room, all those days and nights. Maybe I never needed to be so afraid of him, you know? Maybe he just wanted what he asked for in the beginning, to have somebody to play with.”
Everyone who knew Henry was so happy he had gotten better that we decided to celebrate. We would have had a welcome-home party for him, but Sophie was already planning a big surprise party for Constance, so the two things just got combined. Constance was turning 103! Sophie planned to send a picture to the newspaper and everything. For all we knew, Constance might be the oldest person in the world!
“What do you think we should get her?” I asked Henry as we walked home from school the day before the party.
“I have no idea,” Henry said. “What could she possibly need that she doesn’t already have?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Which means you just get her something she doesn’t need. But something nice, like flowers or jewelry.”
“Well,” Henry said. “In that case, I might have one idea.”
Henry’s idea was that we should give Constance the locket from the trunk. And he could tell from the look on my face that I wasn’t enthusiastic about that plan.
“Unless you think she’ll be creeped out by it,” Henry said. “Because it belonged to Edgar’s mother, and she’s, you know, dead.”
“No,” I said. “I think she’ll like it.”
“Great,” Henry said. “Problem solved. You still have it, right? You didn’t lose it or anything?”
“Have a little faith, Henry.”
I still had it. I liked wearing it. And I hate to admit it, but I kind of wanted to keep it all for myself. But Constance was my friend now, and Edgar had been hers. I had told my mother that I didn’t know who the locket belonged to, and I never changed my story, even after Constance told me that Edgar’s mother had always worn it. But then, my mother didn’t know anything about what we’d really been up to all these weeks since school started. Constance and Uncle Marty were the only grown-ups who knew—Marty because he studied history, and Constance because she had lived it.
So, later that afternoon, I polished the locket and took one last look at the faded picture of Edgar that was inside. Then I put it in a little white box and asked my grandmother to tie a blue ribbon around it. She’s the best at bows.
And, in the end, I was glad I let Henry have his way. For two reasons. The first was that Henry had been through a lot, with Edgar and all, and it seemed like he should be the one to make the decision this time. The other thing was that I kept thinking of Edgar, of the way he had missed Constance’s birthday party long ago. It may sound strange, but it almost felt like bringing her the locket would be a way to bring Edgar to the party with us. I could hardly wait to see Constance’s face when she opened it. Henry and I were both sure it would be the best gift she got.
Unfortunately, the night the party arrived, so did a huge storm. The wind was already blowing hard when my family and I got to Miss Leary’s house. Sophie was afraid that the weather might spoil things, that people might not want to come. But everyone was there. Henry’s mom and Uncle Marty arrived together, and they were soaked to the bone just getting from the car to the front door. Zack and Renee got a ride from Zack’s mom, and Zack had his guitar with him. My whole family was there, of course. And Henry’s was too. Everybody was talking about the rain, watching through the windows as it turned into a full-on thunderstorm. Lightning and everything.
Constance was the only one who didn’t seem bothered by the weather. “I love a good storm,” she said.
Rachel was less enthusiastic. She kept bursting into tears every time she heard the thunder. My grandmother said she was probably getting a new tooth, but I think she was afraid. She would not settle down. Maybe she was the first one to sense that something was off.
Uncle Marty and Henry’s mom were sitting in one corner of the living room, talking about the research she had been doing in England. I had almost forgotten that Henry and I were not the only ones who had been studying up on ghosts.
“Your mom’s project sounds great,” I said.
“Yeah,” Henry said. “At least her ghosts only exist in Shakespeare.”
The lights flickered then, and my dad interrupted everyone to say, “I think we better get this show on the road before the electricity decides to go out.”
The words were barely out of his mouth when the power failed, sending him scrambling for matches and candles. Constance seemed to have a million of them, and soon the whole place was glowing. There were a few flashlights too, and my dad let us have them.
“Hey,” Zack said. “Let’s play hide-and-seek.”
Sophie didn’t think that was such a great idea. After all, we were in someone else’s house. But Constance said, “They won’t hurt anything. Let them have fun.”
“All right,” Sophie said. “Can’t argue with the guest of honor. A quick game,” she told us. “Just until we get the cake and coffee ready.” My mother and Sophie returned to the kitchen, and Alice shouted, “Not it!”
Most of the house was pitch-black, and the rest was covered in eerie shadows because of the candlelight. Renee was it, so she got a flashlight, and everyone else hurried to hide ourselves in the darkness, behind doors and chairs. I could hear my dad dealing with Rachel, and my grandmother and Henry’s dad talking to Constance. Farther away were the faint noises of Sophie and my mom putting the finishing touches on a cake that would probably set a world record for most candles.
“Ready or not, here I come!” Renee yelled to us.
My hiding spot was a far corner of the living room, where I wedged myself behind a chair next to one of the many bookcases. I crouched there in my stocking feet and felt something hard and round under my heel. A marble. Even in the dark, I could tell that much. Of course, I remembered the other time, when marbles bounced down the stairs toward me. This time, I wasn’t scared. It was only one. Only one marble. It didn’t necessarily mean that Edgar was here. And even if he were, the thought of him didn’t scare me anymore. I picked it up and slipped it into my pocket. “Very funny, Edgar,” I whispered. Then I felt a tap on my shoulder that made me gasp, and jump.
“I found you,” Renee said. “You have to help me search now.” She was holding a flashlight under her chin, and it made her face look creepy. I let out a nervous laugh before I agreed to
go with her.
The others were easy to find. I saw Zack’s shoes sticking out from below the curtains in the dining room. Henry was behind the couch. And I heard Alice talking in the kitchen. She was eating icing off her finger. When I announced that I could see her, she just shrugged. “I don’t care. I quit anyway.”
“Let’s play again,” Zack said. “That was too easy. We should use the upstairs!”
“We can’t do that,” Renee said.
“Why not?”
“She’s right, Zack. That’s her private space,” Henry said.
“What do you think is there, anyway?” Renee asked. She still had the flashlight in her hand, and now she was pointing it toward the staircase. There, on the bottom step, was a small card. Renee picked it up. It said:
A FRIEND WILL CALL FROM FAR AWAY.
“What is it?” Zack said.
“I think it’s a card from the fortune-telling game,” I said. I picked it up and put it in my pocket with the marble.
“Let me see,” Renee said. But before I could show her, my mom called, “Kids! Come to the table!”
“Is it time for cake?” Zack asked.
“First we have to let Constance open her presents,” my mom said.
Constance was at the head of the table with a pile of packages in front of her. She smiled as she watched us come into the room. It was strange. To see the house so full of people. It seemed so different from my other visits when I’d been alone, or with Henry. Constance must have felt it too.
“Thank you all for being here,” she said. “The real gift of this evening is your friendship.”
“Open ours first,” I told Constance. “It’s from Henry and me.”
I watched as she undid the ribbon. “It’s beautiful,” she told us as soon as she saw the locket. Then she opened it, and smiled again. “How sweet to see this face today,” she said. “To have him here.”
“Who is it?” my father asked.
The Haunting of Henry Davis Page 15
