I could feel Mommy watching me, studying me, ready to point out the smallest mistakes. If I didn't do something Noble used to do, like track in mud occasionally. Mommy behaved as though I had done it anyway, chastising me for not wiping my shoes or taking them off, for staining my clothing or touching her clean walls with my muddy hands. Sometimes there really were stains on my clothing and mud on the walls. and I wondered, had I done that?
She raged about another pair of pants I had torn, a pair I had supposedly left lying on the floor by my bed. Then she pulled me aside the way she always pulled Noble and softly lectured me about being more careful outside.
"You're too involved with your play and your imagination. Noble," she said. "You have to think about consequences."
One evening when I was doing my schoolwork, she appeared in the doorway with a jar of dead spiders and told me I had left it in the pantry next to jars of jam. I remembered when Noble had done that, but I hadn't done anything like that recently or otherwise. However, I dared not deny anything.
And then, one day. when I was peeing and I had left the bathroom door open, Mommy came by and looked in at inc. I heard her scream. and I quickly finished.
"Boys don't sit on the toilet to pee. Noble. You want people to laugh at you? Boys stand," she said.
I was shocked enough at the criticism to simply stare at her with my mouth slightly opened. I didn't know what to say or do. It wasn't something I had ever considered.
"Just remember to lift the toilet seat," she warned. "Sometimes your father would forget. Men and boys," she said as if she was spitting out something bitter, and shook her head.
I didn't know what to do, but next time, I straddled the toilet with the seat lifted. It was uncomfortable. but I was able to do it. When she saw me a few days later, she was very pleased, and that day, she claimed she had a nice talk with her greataunt Sophie, who had lost her little girl because she had a heart defect. According to Mommy, it had happened before the improvements in heart surgery.
"She gave me comfort," Mommy said. "I feel much better about my own loss after having spoken with her. I'm so lucky to be able to do it."
Despite all that I was doing and the satisfaction I saw in Mommy's face, the world of spirituality that Mommy visited was still not opened to me as I thought it was going to be, especially with the intensity and frequency Mommy experienced. I was afraid to question why not, afraid to say anything, afraid she would blame it on something I was doing or had forgotten to do. Or worse vet, something I had done.
Just be patient, I told myself, and do what Mommy says. It won't be too much longer now. Daddy will return to me. and Mommy's wonderful spiritual ancestry will become mine as well. We'll truly be a happy family again.
One afternoon, however, while Mommy was walking someplace on the farm and talking with her spirits. I grew bored and wandered up to the little tower room. where I discovered all of my things had been stored. I was overcome with the strangest, yet warmest feeling of nostalgia. For a while, at the start at least, it was as if Noble had truly visited his sister's old things and realized how much he missed her.
I stood there with my hands on my hips, the way he often stood, and surveyed the room. This is a good opportunity to be Noble, I told myself. Think as Noble would think. See everything as Noble would see it.
It came easier than I had imagined it would.
How I wish I could tease her now. I thought. I'd even been nicer to her. My happiest days were surely the days when we played together, pretended together, create
d the magical world outside. And she did help me so often with my schoolwork. I need her. I need Celeste.
I was doing fine just wading in Noble's pool of thoughts and gazing at everything until I squatted beside a carton and opened it to see all the dolls crushed together. A rush of overwhelming warmth and excitement passed over me.
Daddy had bought me two antique rag dolls when I was sick with the chicken pox. He said they were authentic Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy dolls, and when he brought them to me, he told me they were created in 1915 by an artist and storyteller named Johnny Gnielle whose stories helped his little girl when she was very sick. Daddy was very excited about the dolls. He had been redoing an old house, and they were discovered in the basement. The owner wasn't interested in them, and when he heard that Daddy had a little girl, he said Daddy could have them.
"I didn't hesitate to take them," he told inc. "The man had no idea what he was giving away. These dolls are very valuable. Celeste. They are real antiques. Take good care of them," he advised.
No matter how valuable they were. Noble thought they were uninteresting because the eyes didn't move and they didn't have any strings to pull to make them say anything. I tried to feel that way about them now, but I just couldn't. The memories of playing with them. Daddy's smile, sleeping with them beside me, all came rushing back as if the floodgates I had locked were broken. I couldn't help but hug them to me. They were so precious.
I guess I had made noise pulling things apart and looking at everything. Mommy had come into the house. heard me, and hurried upstairs to discover me sitting on the floor, clutching the dolls in my arms and rocking gently with my eyes closed. Her scream shattered my recollections. They crumbled in my mind like thin china. and I gasped at the sight of her standing in the doorway, her eyes wide with fear and rage.
"What are you doing up here? What are you doing with those dolls?"
I wasn't sure what to say, so I replied. "I can't help it. Mommy. I miss Celeste,"
It calmed her for a moment, but not enough. A light seemed to come into her face. She nodded at her own thoughts and charged into the room to rip Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy from my arms.
"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.