Spirit Eyes

by Lynn Hones

  Obviously alarmed by her shriek and the barking, Paul ran into the room and saw her on her knees in front of the closed closet. She clutched her bear tightly. He knelt in front of her and took her in his arms. “Pearl, what’s wrong?”

  Her face, tear stained and bright red, had strands of her dark hair stuck to it. “Daddy, Daddy, that woman in the closet. She was going to shoot me.” She threw her arms around him once again.

  Pearl, there’s nothing there.” He opened the closet. “Look. What’s wrong with you? Stop it. Stop it, right now.”

  Ruth, home early from her trip with Laura, walked into the room.

  “What’s going on here?”

  Pearl let go of her father, stood, and ran to her mother. “It’s that woman in the closet. She has a gun,” she screamed, her arms now wrapped around her mother.

  Ruth looked toward the closet. “Baby—baby. Is she still there?”

  She pulled her head away from her mother and turned it. “She’s gone now.”

  Puddles, still barking, obviously wore on Ruth’s nerves. “Calm down. Be quiet,” she yelled.

  Paul swallowed a groan of disbelief. “Of course she’s gone now, because she was never there. You two are pushing my patience. If this continues, I don’t know what we’ll do, but it has to stop.” He hit the frame of the door on his way out of the room as Pearl, again, threw her arms around her mother, sobbing.

  After Ruth held and soothed her, Pearl’s intense crying segued into soft weeping. Enough time had passed that Ruth felt she could question her about what had just happened.

  “What did she look like, honey?” Ruth pushed her away slightly to gaze into her eyes.

  “She was not as old as you, but not as little as a teenager.”

  “Okay.”

  “She wore a black suit with belts around it and she had on shiny black boots.” Pearl wiped the tears from her eyes. “She had on a hat with a bird on it. Her suit had a funny looking black spider on the sleeve.”

  A shiver coursed through Ruth, much worse than the usual fever induced tremors she’d been suffering the last few months. “Pearl, do you think you could draw the spider for mommy?”

  She nodded her tiny head, yes, and headed over to her pink desk and removed a piece of her fairy stationary and a feathery pen. What she drew, with her small, shaky hand, brought Ruth’s hand to her open mouth. “Oh, my God!” she said under her breath.

  “What, Mommy?”

  It was a swastika. “Is this the spider the woman was wearing on her sleeve?”

  “Uh huh.”

  Whatever they’d been through had simply been a precursor to what, she was sure, was going to be a battle of life and death. This battle, between two unseen forces, unreachable and persistent, involved her baby and she knew in her heart there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop it. She did know, however, she’d fight to the death to protect her daughter.

  Chapter Twelve

  I received an email from a friend regarding your daughter. (This person wishes to remain anonymous.) I would be happy to help you out. I would need to come to your home and meet you. In the meantime, I’ve attached a questionnaire for you to fill out. Please email back and we can get started. Thank you.

  Al Geist.

  The doorbell rang and Ruth nervously opened the door. With Paul at work and the girls in school, she’d arranged her meeting secretly. With Puddles out back, she could show him around quietly.

  “Ruth?” A very distinguished man of about sixty stood on the stoop.

  Ruth was surprised at his appearance—she’d expected someone younger…hipper. “Yes, I take it you’re Al. Come in.”

  “You have a lovely home,” he said glancing about.

  “Thank you. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Do you have tea?”

  “Of course.”

  She led him to the dining room and stopped. “Here’s one of the offending pieces.” Her hand swiped some dust off the top of the antique. “This is where the radio lady stands. The one I told you about in the questionnaire.”

  “Yes, yes. Very interesting.” He studied the radio then gazed up at her. “How long have you lived here?”

  “About twenty years, but I’ve had the radio since my dad died. It was the only thing my mother owned when she got married. My husband and I bought this house when we first married. The house itself was built over eighty years ago.”

  “Ah, that’s right, you mentioned all this in the questionnaire, also. This house, it’s got energy, that’s for sure.”

  “You can feel it already?”

  “I’m a sensitive. I can feel things others can’t.”

  “Make yourself comfortable,” she said as she pulled out a chair. “I’ll go make some tea.”

  In the kitchen, her hands trembled as she put the teakettle on to boil. She reached up to grab a couple of her best cups, but dropped her favorite one and it shattered on the floor. This created an avalanche of self-pity and tears sprang from her eyes.

  She gulped in an attempt to stem the crying, but as if the lump in her throat she’d been shoving down for months finally burst, she couldn’t control it. Just as there was no way to stop the deluge of water that filled the Titanic and sank it, there was no way she could stop the tears that blindsided her.

  She turned and found Al standing behind her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I heard a crash and then crying. Are you okay?”

  “I’m not okay. My daughter is not okay. My marriage is not okay,” she sobbed. “It’s hard to believe that only a few short months ago my family was a normal, happy one. Now this.” Her gaze locked on his.

  “You’re not alone.” His wrinkled features grew taut. “I want you to know many families go through this. It’s just that you never hear about it because they’re embarrassed, or ashamed. To me, it’s like being ashamed of having diabetes. What your daughter is experiencing is not normal, and that’s why it’s called paranormal. But—it’s not unusual, not shameful.”

  “I feel alone.” Her dry lips pursed, she turned back toward the sink.

  “That’s why we have societies to help.”

  “You mean like AA for ghosts?” she said with an uncertain laugh.

  “There, now, that’s better,” he said as he ran a hand through his gray hair. “Let’s lighten the mood a bit.”

  The kettle whistled and she jumped.

  “Would you like me to make the tea?” he asked.

  “No, I’ll get it.”

  Al smiled, folded his arms and leaned against the sink. “If you don’t mind me stating, you look quite unwell.”

  “No, it’s okay. It’s a flu I’ve been fighting. I have no energy left and I can barely get up in the morning. Personally, I think that whatever is happening to my baby is making me sick.”

  Self conscious from her outburst, she walked with Al into the dining room and sat opposite him at the table.

  “How?” she asked. “How do I confront something when my husband refuses to accept that Pearl is, in reality, experiencing the supernatural?”

  “Unfortunately, sometimes one parent doesn’t believe and help must come from the parent who does.”

  “Behind his back? Because if anything is going to get done, he can’t know about it.”

  “For your daughter’s well-being, there…there are things that have to be done that can cause one to be uncomfortable.”

  “What are you saying? I should leave my husband?”

  “No, by no means do I mean that. But…if he can’t accept the fact that you’re going to deal with this your way, perhaps, and I’m only saying this if it comes down to Pearl’s safety, he may need to, say, get a hotel room for awhile. That’s what some others have done.”

  They discussed a plan of attack and after he left, Ruth made another cup of tea and sat on the couch waiting for her family to come home.

  What the paranormal investigator told her hadn’t helped much—yet. It actually seemed to make her dilemma
worse. How in the world am I going to do this? How do I kick my husband out of our house so I can do some ghost busting?

  Al promised to stay in touch and help her via email. This would be done on the sly because if Paul found out, he’d be furious.

  “This tea is not going to cut it,” she said to Puddles, who, after being let back in, curled up at her feet. “Time for some mommy juice.” She went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine, took a sip and then promptly ran to the bathroom and threw up.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Time went by and although her people were still around, Pearl did the best she could to ignore them. They were, however, such a large part of her life, she’d slip occasionally and talk about them to a friend or two. Before she knew what happened, it seemed everyone at the school knew her business. Pearl’s friend, Rachel, hadn’t been allowed to talk to her anymore. Whenever she saw Rachel’s mom, the woman glared at her. Rachel made rude comments whenever she walked by. It hurt her. She didn’t understand what she’d done wrong.

  Pearl swung in the tire her dad had tied to an apple tree in the backyard and heard something. She whipped her head around behind her when she sensed she was not alone. She raised herself out of the swing, and stood, her hand on the tire to steady it.

  Don’t be so sad, Pearl. I was sad once, too. But I’m not sad anymore. Puddles sat and stared in the direction of the voice. Because she’d talked to Pearl in her mind, she knew the girl was one of her people.

  It’s so pretty out here, you should be smiling, the girl said. The leaves are all changing colors. I like that.

  Pearl took a step closer, bent, picked up a dandelion, and started to pick it apart. She still hadn’t thought anything back to the girl. She sat down on the grass, pulled out another dandelion, and nodded her head to the girl talking into hers.

  They’re just jealous, you know, that you can see people and they can’t.

  Maybe, she thought back to the girl. Do you know the girl from my cottage? You two look kinda alike.

  No, I don’t think so. But since you can see us, a lot of us try to talk to you. It’s not easy though. It’s like a telephone that’s busy all the time. But when we’re lucky, we can get through to you.

  How old are you? Pearl asked the girl. What’s your name?

  I’m fourteen and my name is Elise. I like your dog. He’s nice to me.

  Can he see you, too?

  Uh-huh.

  You talk kinda funny, Pearl said.

  That’s cuz I’m Polish.

  I’m Chinese, Pearl said proudly. Chinese-American.

  That’s nice. I never knew anyone who was Chinese.

  Were you fourteen when you died? Pearl asked.

  Yes.

  Did it hurt?

  What?

  To die.

  No, not at all. That part didn’t hurt. But the part before did. It hurt my heart really bad the way my family was treated. They were so mean to us.

  Who? Pearl asked, puzzled.

  The Nazis.

  Who are they?

  They killed my grandpa and grandma. They killed all my cousins, aunts, and uncles. I had no family left at the end of the war except my mom and dad.

  Why?

  I really don’t know. It just happened that way. They hated us because we were Jewish. I still don’t know why that meant they had to kill my family.

  I’m so sorry.

  My grandma and grandpa died in the camp my parents and I were in. They died right away in the showers.

  Did they fall or something?

  No, instead of water coming out of the spouts they made gas come out. It made them suffocate and die.

  That’s horrible.

  They put the moms and older girls in a different part of the camp and they used them for work and stuff. Sorting all the suitcases. Most of them died, too, once they were worn out. They didn’t need the little kids like me, so they, they usually put us in the showers, too. But, my one aunt put me in a hiding spot. So I didn’t go into the shower. I think my aunt, the one who saved me, is in heaven because when we got freed, I never saw her again. But my dad and mom and me were the lucky ones. We were still a family at the end. We decided to wait a little bit longer to go to heaven, though. We have something we want done first.

  Where do you live?

  I live with you. My dad guards your house.

  In my driveway?

  Yes.

  Is the lady by the radio your mom?

  Yes. She comes down to me and I can go up to her. We can visit each other all the time. That used to be her radio and she loved it. After the war, she came to America first, with me. Our Visas were ready and my dad wanted us out as soon as possible. She begged him to find her old radio and bring it with him. It’s where she first learned of the war, but it played all her favorite songs all those years before we… She got quiet.

  Before you what?

  Before we were sent to the camps.

  Pearl simply stared at the girl. She had no idea what she was talking about.

  The camps? Like summer camp?

  No, nothing like summer camp. At these camps, like I said, people were tortured and killed. I can’t talk about that anymore, the girl said. Anyway, the radio is the one thing we saved from Germany. My dad brought it with him when he came to America.

  Are you sad? Pearl asked.

  No, but I’m jealous because you go to school. I miss school. I was made to stop going. No Jews allowed.

  I don’t understand, Pearl said. What’s a Jew?

  It’s just a person. Like you. You’re a Chinese-American. I was a Jewish-German. Just a person.

  Will I see you after school? Pearl asked.

  I don’t know, Elise answered. If I can get through.

  Pearl liked her new friend, Elise, and hoped she’d come around more. Her other friends, the ones at school, didn’t want to play with her that much anymore.

  Pearl, once dropped off by her mother, skipped up to a group of her friends. They sat in a circle, talking, waiting for school to start.

  “Hey, look, it’s the witch.” The girl who spoke those words sat next to Rachel and they both burst out laughing. She came closer and attempted to sit with them.

  “I don’t think so,” her friend, Amy said. “We don’t like witches.”

  “I’m not a witch.”

  “Yes, you are,” Rachel said. “My mom said you are and my mom wouldn’t lie. She said you have magic powers.”

  The other girls nodded their heads and started to chant, “No witches allowed.”

  Pearl walked over to the playground. A group of kids sat on the swing set, but wouldn’t let her on. Now that word had gotten out about her visions, she’d become a pariah. The taunting of her fellow classmates grew worse every day and she longed for at least one friend.

  The bell rang. No longer welcome near anyone, she waited until they all lined up, standing a few feet away. Even her new teacher, Ms. White, seemed nervous when she got too close.

  “Come on, weirdo, it’s time to line up,” one of her classmates yelled. All the kids laughed and Ms. White didn’t do anything about it.

  When she got home, Pearl explained to her mother about the girl she’d met that morning in their backyard. She then told her mother exactly what she’d been going through lately with the other kids at school. Furious, Ruth made a phone call to Ms. White.

  “How dare you allow this type of behavior to continue? You have to see what the other kids are doing.”

  “Mrs. Adler, I want you to know that I have been addressing this with the children. It’s just that we started the study of the Salem Witch Trials and it brought all of this up to the forefront.”

  “How nice. And for some reason you didn’t think it was necessary to tell me about any of this?”

  “No, I didn’t think the teasing was that bad.”

  “It’s gone way beyond teasing. It’s more like bullying. I wonder if you’d be this nonchalant if it were your child?” Ruth�
�s jaw locked tight and her breaths came out labored. She breathed deep and continued. “They are accusing her of being a witch. This was told to Rachel by her mother.”

  Ms. White retaliated, her ego obviously bruised. “Rachel’s mother, Eve, is a wonderful woman. Frankly, we’re surprised that you and your husband have allowed these delusions to continue for as long as you have. Has she been seen by professionals?”

  “You have no right to ask us that question. So you and Eve are discussing my family, huh? Very interesting.”

  “Mrs. Adler, please calm down.”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down. What I need from you is to take care that my child is safe while she is in school. Can I count on you for that? Or do I need to go to your boss?”

  “Mrs. Adler, please understand there is only so much, I, as a teacher, can do. When I see the teasing happen, I stop it. What I don’t see, I can’t stop. This is a group effort. I need Pearl to tell me when things happen. She’s so quiet…”

  “She didn’t used to be,” Ruth yelled. “She was constantly given detentions for talking.”

  “It’s not my fault your daughter is the way she is. Perhaps you should pull her out of school. Teach her at home.” Click.

  That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Nothing she’d done so far had helped, so she had only Al to fall back on. And thank God for him. He walked her through everything happening with Pearl, via email, and made her feel less alone. If Paul didn’t like the fact that she believed her daughter and would do all she could to keep her safe, from the living—and the dead, that was his problem.

  Pearl played in the corner of the living room, quiet and pensive. It was as if she had a completely different child living with her.

  “Pearl, come here, honey.”

  Pearl looked up from her dolls and gazed over at her mother, her eyes sad and older. She stood and went to her.

  “Sweetie, I want you to know that I’ve contacted someone, and they’re going to help us take care of your people and make them go away.”

  Pearl nodded her head. “Who?”

  “People who know all about spirits.” Determined to make her daughter feel comfortable with all of this, she forced a smile. She’d never told her about the help she was receiving. A small child didn’t need to learn how to keep ghosts at bay.