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.