"Come with me." she said and hurried down the stairs, in each hand a doll clutched at the neck like one of our chickens after she had cut off its head.
I followed, my heart racing, the thumps feeling like a steel marble rolling around in my chest. Mommy practically leaped at the front door. She hurried off the porch to the toolshed, where she seized a shovel and thrust it at me.
"This way." she said.
We walked around the house to the far east corner, where she told me to dig a hole. She stood by and watched. She wanted the hole deep. I had a hard time with some rocks, but she didn't move, didn't offer to help. She seemed to be pleased by my struggle. Finally, it was deep enough to satisfy her, and she dropped Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy into the hole.
"Celeste is gone! She's gone! And so should her dolls be, gone as far as you're concerned. Cover them up and forget them forever," she said. "I hope it's not too late," she added, looking about and shaking her head.
I had no idea what she meant by "too late." but it frightened me. and I worked as quickly as I could. She stamped down on the earth when I was finished, and then she told me to put the shovel back into the shed. She returned to the house.
Later I found her sitting in the old rocker, staring out the window in the living room. When I entered, she turned on me, her face almost as red with rage as it had been up in the tower room.
"Because of what you did." she said. "-they have retreated into the shadows. Even your father has cowered back into the darkness. Who knows when they'll return?" she angrily added.
"I'm sorry. Mommy." I said.
"Don't whine like a little girl, Noble. It's time you tried to be more like your father, full of inner strength. You want to be a man like he was, don't you?"
I nodded quickly.
"Go out and split same firewood until I call you," she ordered.
These days, we had the logs delivered, but we still had to split them to let them dry properly,
"It's going to be a bad winter this year," she said. "They've told me. We'll need twice the wood we had last year. Go on."
She turned away, and I left with my head down. I worked extra hard and fast, and at one point. I realized my left palm was bleeding because I had worn the skin right off one spot. It burned. but I didn't stop. Every once in a while I would pause and look around the meadow and into the woods, studying every shadow, but I saw nothing but pockets of unshaped darkness.
"I'm sorry." I muttered. "I'm sorry. Daddy."
I quickly flicked off any tears. One thing I didn't want was for Mommy to catch me crying.
"Big boys don't cry," she had told me time in and time out since the tragedy. "When you're in pain. you squeeze it like you are closing your fist on a fly, and you squeeze and squeeze. It makes you hard on the inside where you have to be hard, and then it seeps through until you're harder on the outside. Someday you'll have a shell as tough as a turtle's," she promised.
I lifted the ax and struck the log. With concentration and new strength. I could often split them in one stroke now. Whenever I did and Mommy saw me, she would smile.
"When I see you out there working like this, you're the spitting image of your father." she would tell me.
I wanted her to smile at me like that again. I struck the logs, and every time my ax made contact. I recited. "Celeste is gone. She's gone! And so are Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy. forever.''
In the days and months that passed. I didn't go back to the spot where they were buried. I avoided it as much as I could, and soon grass and weeds grew so quickly and thickly, it was hard to look out and see where the dolls' grave was anyway. Mommy was happy about that. She was settling into her
comfortable world once again.
I went about my work, my studies, took my tests, and grew taller and stronger. Finally, Mommy told me that the spirits, as if they had been frightened by something they had seen or heard, slowly had begun to return out of the shadows. Not a day passed afterward when Mommy hadn't spoken to some spirit, and then one day she suddenly began to talk about Celeste. She told me she had finally seen her.
I had just come in from feeding our chickens, and she popped out at me from behind the den door, her eyes wide and bright with excitement.
"I was putting clothes into the dryer," she said. "when I felt a presence and turned slowly to see her standing there, looking up at me and smiling."
My heart began to pound. Celeste's spirit was in the house? But how could that be? Had Noble and I truly exchanged our souls? Had Mommy made that happen?
"How wonderful it was!" she exclaimed and hugged me to her.
"I'm glad. Mommy." I said, unable to stop myself from trembling. Mommy didn't notice. She was too absorbed in her vision.
"I know. I know, I worried and worried about it. Noble. I was afraid she was being punished for something, or I was. No one could tell me anything. You see, my sweet child, there are even more mysteries in the spiritual world than there are here. And for good reason, if you think about it," she said, quickly regaining her composure and assuming her teacher's voice.
"Here we have science to help explain things to us. All those questions you ask me day in and day out about insects and animals, plants and birds, I can answer for you. Soon enough, you will be able to find most of the answers yourself in your reading.
"But it's not that way in the other world. They tell me it's like walking in a cloud most of the time. It's pleasant and without any fear or anxiety, but it's so vast. You no longer touch anything. Poor Celeste couldn't help with the clothing the way she used to help me. She looked a little flustered about it, but I reminded her she would never be flustered in the world she now lived in, and she must give up this world," she said. smiling. "Nothing there is
frustrating. Nothing there is unpleasant. She looked a little put-off. but I'm sure shell adjust. At least. I hope she will, for her sake as well as ours," she added thoughtfully. "Otherwise..."
"Otherwise what. Mommy?" I asked, holding my breath the way I used to when she was coming to the end of a wonderful story that could have either a sad or a happy resolution.
"Never mind," she said sharply. "She'll be fine. She'll be fine where she is."
Mommy always sounded as if she liked what she knew and learned about the other world. I was often afraid because of that, afraid that she would like it so much, she would leave me. She saw that in my face. I think, far she promised me she would always be with me.
"I'll be right by your side until you no longer need me, Noble, at least until then."
I couldn't imagine when that would be.
Mommy and I will be together forever and ever. I thought, and when she dies. I'll die with her. What would I do without her? I'm sure she felt the same way about me. What would she do without me?
Of course. I was constantly afraid that some morning she would wake up and look at me and no longer see Noble. No matter how well I did, how strong I grew, she would be unable to see him, and she would hate me even more, for she would blame me for his being gone from her life forever. I had nightmares about it.
"Where is he?" she asked me in these dark dreams. "How could he fall off that rock? Tell me again how it happened. Tell me every little detail."
"He just leaned back too far," I would say, but in my nightmare her eyes grew larger, brighter, and turned into little flashlights sweeping away every hidden word.
If I hadn't grabbed his pole. if I hadn't played tug-of-war with him, would he have fallen? Did I push or pull? Did I want him to fall?
In my dream the questions seemed to come from Mommy and not me, and when that happened, I woke up shuddering.
Just as every old and precious piece of furniture in this house held the spirits of those that had come before us and lived here. Noble's bed held his spirit, and that spirit entered me in the same fashion Mommy's great-grandpa entered her when she sat in his chair. I looked at Celeste's bed, stripped and bare as it was. I imagined what it would be like if I saw Celeste's spirit lyin
g there. I was sure she would be smiling at me, looking so self-satisfied,
"You pushed me," I would accuse. You didn't pull the rod. You pushed it and you pushed me backward."
The smile would pop off her face just as it did in my imagination now, as she disappeared quickly.
"You deserve to disappear. You deserve to be gone with all your dolls!" I shouted at the emptiness.
It's what the spirits thought, too, and what Mommy thought, and what would be. Celeste was gone. She was gone. She couldn't face me with guilt staining her face. As surprising as it seemed, I felt good about that. Mommy would never see anyone else but Noble when she looked upon me, I thought confidently. She'll never be disappointed.
All will be well.
And it was well for the longest time, even when we left the farm to go shopping or did other chores. I know Mommy was more anxious than usual when she brought me to the public school for my tests the first time after our tragedy. She was anticipating all sorts of complications, but Dr. Camfield was nicer to us than she had expected he would be. He tried to be very accommodating, too. and I remember after the test results were in, this time the same day because of his intervention, he complimented Mommy on how well I had done despite our difficult times.
"Usually, siblings have setbacks when something like this happens." he told her. "It's remarkable that your boy has actually shown improvement. I sure wish you would reconsider and come back to public education. Mrs. Atwell. You're obviously a talented teacher."
"We'll set," Mommy said, pleased with the compliments and with me. but I knew the empty promise resonating in that "We'll see" of hers. She would never go back to public school teaching. never.
I couldn't help wishing she would, however. When we left the school that first time after Celeste's disappearance from our lives, I looked back at everything as Noble would look back on it all, the longing to be on that ball field clearly in his eyes, the reluctance to leave, the covetous way he gazed at the classrooms, the smile he had an his face when he heard the shouts of the students.
I pressed my face to the window and looked out at the world I had only glimpsed. Anyone looking at the car would think I was like some pauper with her face pressed to the front window of a restaurant, watching all the lucky people eat more than their fill while my bones showed clearly through my thin skin.
"Don't gape," Mommy snapped. "They're not as lucky as you are. Noble. You'll set," she said. "Someday, you'll see what you have is wonderful,"
I wanted to believe her, but what would be so wonderful that it could replace having friends my age, going to parties and dances or to the movies together? Couldn't I do all that and still know the spiritual world? Couldn't I just keep all that secret?
Maybe it was because of my growing loneliness, or maybe it was because I was doing well at what Mommy and the spirits around us wanted me to do. but I was sure I did begin to see shadows take shape again, and soon, they were faces smiling my way. I told Mommy because I knew she would want to know, and she was very pleased, even though I couldn't tell her any more because I still couldn't say I had spoken to anyone or anyone had spoken to me.
"We're all going to be fine again. Noble," she said. "Just fine. Just be patient. Just do what you have to do and believe. When you fill your heart with faith, it will all happen for you just the way it happened for me." she said and described the first time she had seen one of the family spirits. Her mother and her grandmother had told her it would happen.
"And it did. Just the way they said it would. One day a shadow molded itself into a spirit just as they do for you. That first spirit was my greatgrandmother Elsie. She was happier to see that I could see her than I was. Nothing makes them feel more complete again than when one of us, the living, crosses over, my darling."
How pleasing and wondrous she made it all sound, and how anxious I was to have the experiences again and forever, especially with them finally speaking to me. I studied every wisp of smoke. I peered into the fog. I watched the twilight creep in from the forest. and I listened and waited. It wasn't easy being patient, especially because I feared I wouldn't be worthy and I would spend my whole life deaf and blind to what they had to offer.
Perhaps that was why for me time moved as slowly as maple syrup. One day was the same as the next, despite the heavy load of chores Mommy laid on me. Whenever she saw me stop and start reading, she pounced and ordered me out to gather blueberries or wild strawberries, or pick some eggs. Harvesting our maple syrup was very important. too.
Some time ago, so long ago now, it seemed to me. Daddy had shown us how to tap the maple trees. It was our job to go around to the trees and empty the syrup into a big pot, and then the pot was boiled until it became the maple syrup we used on our pancakes or Mommy used for baking. It was a hard enough job for the two of us, but now it was all mine, even the boiling part.
I know the work hardened me. I was the one cutting the lawn, raking the leaves, turning the earth for replanting. I was the one gathering kindling wood, splitting more and more of the logs for firewood, painting, repairing, cleaning the chicken coop. From time to time, the postman or a serviceman would see me out in the field and remark to Mommy how big I had grown.
"Youve got a fine young lad there," the UPS man told Mommy when he delivered our order of seeds and I carried the boxes to the barn.
"Yes" she said proudly. He is going to be quite a young man soon.
"He7s my salvation," she would add, and whoever it was would nod and understand. Mommy needed salvation. Like some fire that had been smothered by tragedy, she needed rekindling.
For well over a year or so after the tragedy, she moped about in a faded housedress and old shoes. Her hair was straggly and unclean and her face pale. She did her best to avoid leaving the farm, but when we went to the supermarket or did some shopping, she made little or no attempt to fix her appearance. People seemed to expect it anyway. She was wearing the cloud of gloom around her like some dark robe. In their eyes and whispers was the reminder that she had suffered a terrible loss. Her little girl had been snatched up and taken away, and who knew what had eventually been done to her or who had taken her, although the suspicions circling our unfortunate neighbor. Gerson Baer. lingered,
However, the stronger I became, the more work I accomplished, the healthier and happier Mommy looked, The compliments I received chipped away at her darkness. Eventually she began to wear pretty clothes again, take care of her hair, even wear some makeup when we went shopping. I saw the way men looked at her. and I knew that there were even some who called and tried to get her to go out on dates, but she brushed them all off like so many annoying flies.
She was content taking care of our home, reading, knitting or doing her needlework, baking, and cooking our dinners, and working beside me in the vegetable garden and having me help her in her herbal garden. I would work and listen to her stories about her younger days, her grandmother's endless stories about Hungary and gypsies, and her mother's wonderful remedies for every problem. Once again she told me about Daddy's coming to the house to fix the roof. I had to remember not to ask the questions Celeste always asked. Then she talked about her and Daddy's courting and his proposing marriage.
She said I shouldn't mind if she repeated things because he liked it when she told me stories about him.
"The dead want to be remembered. They wait for the sound of their names," she assured me. "It's like the ringing of a bell to us. Wherever they are, they perk up and come to us, come to hear us talk about them."
She leaned toward me and whispered with a wink. "I do it deliberately for that purpose sometimes, to get him to appear. He knows, but he doesn't mind."
This reminiscing was something she did more and more as the years went by with only the two of us managing the property, comforting each other. Our days were always full and busy. We were like two bees doing the work of an entire hive.. If something broke, we made every effort first to fix it ourselves. Nothing seemed more important to Mommy
than keeping strangers off our land and out of our lives. She said they filled the air with static and kept our spiritual world away. So I learned how to fix a leaking pipe, snake out our septic system, clear the gutters on the roof of leaves, and even splice broken wires. What we didn't know from Mommy's experience, we read about in books she acquired either at the county library or at bookstores.
With every turn of a wrench, rap of a hammer. I felt my arms tighten and my shoulders thicken. Despite my slight frame, my diminutive facial features, my small hands, eventually presented a tight fist of a figure, wiry perhaps more than muscular, but certainly tougher and thicker than most young people my age, and quite different from any girls my age. That was certain.
Sometimes Mommy would stand aside and look at me for the longest time. I would catch her lips moving and her head turning to someone beside her. I was being admired, and that admiration was strengthening her ties to all she loved and cherished.
At night after I had gone to bed, exhausted half the time. I could hear her muffled conversation below. Most of the time, she was talking to Daddy. I was tempted to get up to see if I would see him as well, but she had once warned me about spying on her and how that would displease the spirits. so I just lay there, listening and looking forward to the day or the night when I would finally see Daddy beside me again and finally hear him talk to me the way he talked to her.
From time to time. I was sure I saw him standing to the side, watching me work, a smile on his face, but when I started to talk to him, he would disappear. I told Mommy, and she said it was normal.
"One day he'll just start talking to you," she predicted. "You'll see."
It was all going so well that I had no doubt she was right. Even birthdays went smoothly, birthdays when there was once doubles of everything and now there was only one. For the first few birthdays after the tragedy, she said Daddy and Celeste were there, and he was holding her hand. I didn't see either of them. I believed I had seen Daddy at my birthday party once, but that was when Celeste was alive in our world. I'm Noble. I reminded myself. There were still miles to go. I complained about it, and again, she promised me I would very soon.
Celeste Page 18
