by Lynn Hones
Ruth drew in an irregular breath. “What?”
Sirens, instead of fireworks blasted in the air. A ruckus occurred by the old bandstand and Ruth stood.
“What’s happening?” she asked someone as they ran by.
“Old lady Eberstark just had a heart attack. She’s dead.”
Ruth looked down at Pearl.
“Okay,” Pearl said to no one in the empty spot where they sat.
“Pearl, stop.”
“Mrs. Eberstark is telling me something important,” Pearl said. Her head snapped back to the empty spot. “Uh-huh.” She said in a serious tone.
“Pearl, what is she saying to you?”
Pearl stared back at the spot and then up at her mom. “She told me to ignore my people. She said they are very bad and will hurt me, but that she will guard me and tell me what to do.”
Taken aback, Ruth bent and helped her daughter up gently by the arm. “I don’t care how nice Mrs. Eberstark, is—was, you only listen to your mother. Do you hear me?”
An ache, strong and penetrating, pierced Ruth’s head. Normally not one to suffer from headaches, she was shocked at its intensity.
The next day, they all sat quietly in the family room. “Dad, how long are you going to ground Pearl?” Lotus asked.
Ruth sat in a chair directly across from Paul and watched the television. For the first time in over an hour, she spoke. “He’ll keep her in her room until she tells him she didn’t see Mrs. Eberstark.”
“I’m really in no mood for one of your I’m too rough on the kids speeches,” Paul said without looking her way.
“What are you talking about? What you’re doing makes no sense. You are being too rough on her.”
Executing a quick covert glance at him lying on the couch, newspaper in his hands, she attempted to explain. “Don’t you see? She died and well, whether you want to believe it or not, Pearl can see people who have died.”
“Okay, I’ll take a seat on this insane roller coaster ride you two are on,” he said laying his paper aside. “Why in the hell do you think she’s seeing invisible people?”
Ruth’s neck muscles tensed. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.” She sighed. “But I don’t like it.” Once again, Ruth coughed and made every effort to stand, but couldn’t gain the strength. Her head felt dizzy and her eyes watered and grew redder.
Lotus, on the floor in front of the television, rolled onto her back, threw a soccer ball into the air and caught it. “But, Mom, you said that Mrs. Eberstark was a sweet old lady. Isn’t it good she’s going to help Pearl? I mean, since you think all of this is true.” She glanced at her father with a wry smile. She lay on her side and petted Puddles who sat next to her.
“It’s not true,” Paul said.
Frighteningly aware that Paul and Lotus not only didn’t believe in these ghosts, but were, in fact, attempting to trip her up in some way, she answered. “I never said it’s bad. I told her to only listen to me or Daddy, of course.”
Paul stood. “This is nuts. I’m going to go get her. I want you to know, though, if you continue feeding into this, she’s going to continue her charade. Enough of this crap.”
Ruth trembled during his uncharacteristic outburst. “Crap? I’m not the one who started all of this.”
Lotus put the ball down and sat up, scared.
Paul only made things worse. “I didn’t say you started it, but you aren’t helping, either.”
Shaken now, she was out for the attack. “You have got to be kidding me. You—you have done nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, to help me with this. You, as always, bury your head in the sand and wait for it to go away. I’m the one who took her to the doctor, got her an eye exam, sat in with a shrink…what have you done? Guess what? Nothing! That’s right, nothing! This…” She threw her arms up in the air with effort. “This is not going away. If anything, it’s getting worse.” She then segued into a hacking cough.
He interrupted her. “Don’t you mean this delusion?”
“No, I don’t mean that.” Ruth took a deep breath, although her lungs felt like bursting. “She is seeing people. She is not having delusions or playing with imaginary friends. She is seeing something we can’t see, and these people are starting to talk to her, telling her secrets that she’s not allowed to share. What if that old man at the ball field told her to run into traffic, or something? What if they—”
Again, he spoke before she finished. “You’re the delusional one.”
“That’s it. I’m done.” She stood, feeling every muscle in her body quiver, and walked to the mantel over the fireplace. She put both hands on it, lowered her aching head, and tried to center herself.
“Lotus,” Paul said, “Go to your room.”
She left silently, with Puddles on her heels.
“Maybe you’re the one who needs the shrink,” Paul said.
Ruth turned quickly and yelled. “How dare you! I am not insane, and for you to even suggest it is cruel.”
“I don’t know what do!” he yelled. “I’m at a loss. Look at you. You look like death warmed over. You’ve lost at least ten pounds, your eyes are constantly watering and red, you cough all the time and have chronic diarrhea. Anytime I mention going to the doctors, you flip out.”
“I’m fine,” Ruth said.
“Oh, yeah, you can barely walk, but you’re fine. You’re fine, and Pearl is seeing ghosts, is that what you want me to believe?”
“How can you deny all of this when you said yourself she described your cousin to a tee?”
He shrugged. “Coincidence.”
“Oh, okay.” She turned and bore her gaze deeply into his. “So, I’m on my own?”
“No, I didn’t say that, but…” He walked over to her. “What did the shrink say? Huh? Remember? She thinks that Pearl is making all of this up for attention.”
He waited for her to respond, but she didn’t.
“It’s not that unusual for kids to do this type thing,” Paul said reassuringly.
Ruth, still upset, spoke loudly, her voice raspy. “Pearl…Pearl of all people. She is the most outgoing, fun, energetic child either of us has ever seen. She doesn’t need the attention. She’s got enough of it.”
He took her hand, but she pulled it away with a scowl. He reached for her shoulder and she took a step back.
“Please, let’s just let this thing burn out on its own,” Paul said. “What you’re doing is making it worse. If we simply say, Okay, honey…that’s nice, honey, she’ll eventually grow bored and stop.”
Fed up and tired of the fight, she acquiesced. “Okay.” She lifted her gaze to his and once again, simply said, “Okay.”
Ruth sat on the edge of her bed and called out to her youngest daughter. “Pearl, honey, can you come here?”
Her pounding footsteps crashed down the hall and stopped right outside her room.
Pearl peeked her head around the doorway. “Yes.” Her delicate eyebrows knit into an uneven line of confusion.
Ruth reached her arms out. “Come here, baby.”
She slowly walked over and leaned against her mother. “Mommy, you feel hot on your skin.”
“I just have a slight fever—nothing to worry about.”
“Okay, cuz you’re like a heating pad.”
Ruth turned Pearl’s face her way. “Sweetie. Daddy thinks we should stop talking about the people. He thinks that maybe if we do, the people will go away. What do you think about that?”
Blinking rapidly, a panic on her face, Pearl shrugged.
Ruth appraised her daughter with profound love and a keen awareness of her need to protect and guide her without upsetting her. “It’s disturbing him to see you bothered by these…people. And he believes what the doctors said.”
“Okay.”
“If these people really start to bother you, I want you to tell me. But…” she said firmly, taking Pearl’s wrists and squeezing them lightly, “if you see them and they don’t bother you, we’ll try and see if
we ignore them, well…maybe they’ll leave you alone.”
“Okay.” Apprehension stiffened her young features.
She now took her daughter by both shoulders. “If the people tell you anything bad, or do anything bad, you are to tell me. Do you hear me?” She nodded her head lightly for emphasis. “This is very important,” Ruth pressed.
“I understand.”
A heavy sigh, and a hug later, Ruth straightened her back. “Okay, let’s start now.”
She hoped her eager smile would convey to Pearl that all was well, and all would be okay. If only she believed that herself, it might make this entire talk more convincing.
Chapter Nine
After a much too short summer vacation, school started back in early August, and kids struggled to swing back into schedule. Her spirit people visited Pearl the entire summer, but in trying to keep the peace in her home, she didn’t mention them. Occupying herself with friends, playing volleyball, having sleepovers and long bike rides, Pearl cleared her mind of their constant appearances. Mrs. Eberstark materialized the most and warned her not to talk to her people. Some days, Pearl ran past the spirits without looking, and some days she’d stop and hear what they had to say, but didn’t answer them.
Pearl loved recess, particularly if it ran over the allotted time and they got to play in the sun and fresh air longer. An energetic girl, with boundless energy, she needed to run and jump to get the squiggles out, as her mother told her. She hated, however, when the old man in the fancy black suit waved her over. He stood in the same spot, always by the backstop of the baseball diamond, always bringing his palm face up to his shoulder, beckoning…beckoning. She’d hoped he would be gone when school started, but no such luck. Today was no different.
A rapid assessment of the area proved her friends and teachers weren’t preparing to line up, yet, so she walked slowly toward the field, which was partially hidden by the maintenance shed. As she drew near, his smile grew wider and he put his hands down by his sides. In her head, he told her, Hello.
“Hi,” she replied with her mouth.
I’ve been hoping you’d come and see me. His accent created a difficulty in her understanding him.
“Okay,” she answered.
I need you to do something for me.
What? This time she didn’t speak, but thought it, as he did.
I need you to not listen to Mrs. Eberstark. She tells you not to talk to us.
Yes. She grew used to his funny way of talking.
I want you to do something for me, okay?
I’ll have to ask my mom.
No. You musn’t say a thing to your mother.
She nodded.
Listen to me very carefully.
Okay,” she heard herself say inside her head.
You live in the big house on the hill, no?
Yes.
He smiled widely. I need you to go into the basement and look around at the floor. I need you to see if there is somewhere that looks different than the rest. Like someone broke it up to hide something.
“Pearl! What are you doing? Get in line.” Ms. White, angry that she’d strayed, screamed out.
I, I gotta go, she told the man.
Can you wait? He protested.
No, I’ll get in trouble. She turned back to him, her eyes narrow from squinting into the sun. I’m not supposed to come over here.
Unforgiving in tone, her teacher’s voice bellowed out. “Pearl!”
“I’m coming.” She sprinted from the man and toward her teacher.
Ms. White reprimanded her in front of her peers. “What were you doing over there? You know you aren’t allowed to leave the pavement unless I tell you.”
“I…” Remembering that her mother told her not to talk of the people anymore, she lied. “I’m sorry. I chased a butterfly.”
“Don’t do it again.” The teacher pushed her gently into line and continued her head count.
Pearl twisted her upper body in the man’s direction. He stood there, once again, his arm going up and then down, his palm rising to his shoulder insisting she come back.
It had been a little over a month since the death of Mrs. Eberstark, and although Ruth and Laura went for visiting hours at the funeral home, they didn’t expect any sort of recognition for it. Thousands of people were paying their respects to a woman who’d done so much for the community.
However, on a boring, cloudy day, when Ruth lazed about in her yoga pants and a stained t-shirt, there was a knock on her front door. Wearily heading to answer it, she caught a glance of her reflection in the hallway mirror. I look like death. Although she’d broken down and gone to several more doctors, no one could find anything wrong. Yes, she had a fever, and was losing weight and suffered a persistent cough, but after numerous tests, nothing concrete could be found.
Upon opening the door, Mr. Eberstark and his son the senator greeted her. Shocked, she stared for a moment. “Hello?” Puddles insistently barked at the men, so Ruth put up her finger and asked them to wait. She took him to the kitchen and gated him in.
“Hello,” Ruth said upon returning. “Mr. Eberstark, how wonderful to see you, please come in.”
“Thank you, my dear,” he said. The old man, over ninety years old, walked hunched over with a cane. He wore a double-breasted, blue blazer and tie, and Ruth discerned his attempt at maintaining a high level of dignity in his slow, uneven gait.
“Have you met my son?”
“Briefly, at the funeral. It’s nice to see you, Senator.”
“Please, call me Tom.”
“Okay, Tom,” she said. Pleasantly handsome in a soft, charming way, the senator bore a regal essence much like his father. His blond hair, graying at the temples, added to the sophisticated look.
“Please, excuse my appearance.” She ran her hand through her hair. “I’ve been cleaning and…”
“Oh, no need to explain,” Mr. Eberstark said. “We are the ones who should be asking you to excuse us. We have stopped in without calling first, but we were driving home from lunch at the club and I thought I’d stop by and ask you a question.” A hint of an accent dusted his words.
“Sure. Have a seat and let me get some coffee.”
“No, really, that won’t be necessary.”
“Well, at least have a seat.” She directed them to the living room, where they sat on the couches.
“I don’t mean to be intrusive,” Mr. Eberstark said, “but it appears you’ve been crying. I hope all is well.”
“Oh, no. I haven’t been crying. My eyes have been bothering me lately. They burn and cause the tears and redness. No, I’m fine.” She quickly changed the subject, mad at herself for not putting her drops in that morning. “I’m so very sorry about your wife,” she said truthfully. “I had been talking to her earlier in the day and it was such a shock. I tried to tell you that at the viewing, but…”
Tom spoke up. “Yes, you see, that’s why my father would like to talk to you. Someone came to the funeral and told my father that he heard your little girl talking to my mother. He said she seemed to know that my mother had died before anyone else.”
Stunned, Ruth was speechless. She couldn’t tell them the truth. That would be insane. People would label her daughter any number of things if this came out into the open.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she answered.
“A man was sitting very near you, although you couldn’t see him due to the chair he sat in,” Mr. Eberstark said. “He specifically heard your daughter talking to my wife, after she had died.”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Eberstark, but that’s not true. I don’t know who he was talking about, but it wasn’t my little girl. It must have been someone else.”
Mr. Eberstark and his son, Tom, exchanged confused glances. “Oh, well, then I’m sorry for bothering you,” Tom said. “It’s all been a big misunderstanding.”
“Do you mind telling me who this man is?” Ruth inquired.
“I’d rather
not. He felt funny bringing it up, since he was ease dropping on a personal conversation.”
“Anyway,” the old man said, “we’re terribly sorry for the disturbance and I hope you’ll forgive us. We’ll be out of your way.” Mr. Eberstark and Tom rose, bowed their heads, and headed out the door, leaving Ruth more confused than she’d ever been.
Chapter Ten
Lotus and the group of girls she’d asked to spend the night giggled loudly. Ruth, never one of those mothers who enjoyed teens invading her home, dealt with it as best she could. She’d stocked the fridge and cupboards with drinks and snacks and ordered pizzas, then locked herself in her bedroom with a book, a cup of tea and Puddles sleeping at the end of the bed. Of course, the last few months had found her in bed often. It was even a chore to get up in the morning, let alone cook and clean. The housework took a toll without her help, and Paul and the girls, more often than not, heated TV dinners in the microwave for supper.
All was going well, until she heard a soft knock on her door. Lotus opened it, came to the side of her mother’s bed, and frowned.
“What’s up?” She removed her reading glasses and rubbed her tired eyes.
“Mom, there’s a weird smell in the basement.”
“What kinda smell?” she asked tartly.
“It’s really bad.”
“Is it another dead mouse?” They’d had a small mouse problem a few months before, and when caught in the traps, one little rodent could give off a tremendous odor.
“Yeah, but like a thousand times worse.”
“What?” She pushed the blanket off her lap and stood. “What is it, you s’pose?”
Lotus, her long, black hair in a ponytail, walked out behind her mother, and down the stairs. A t-shirt and a pair of boxers was her outfit of choice for her gathering of friends.
Paul, asleep on the sofa, stirred when they walked by. “What’s up?” he called out. Half asleep, he turned onto his side and closed his eyes again.
“Nothing,” Ruth whispered. “Go back to sleep.”
They were greeted by a group of wide-eyed girls huddled around the kitchen island, blankets and sweatshirts over their faces.
