Despite the events of the day, I went to sleep with an air of optimism about me. Mommy was so strong. I thought. She could change the face of time. She would keep me safe. I cuddled up beneath my covers and dreamed of the time when she would be playing the piano and I would see and hear all our family spirits who stood around and sang. Daddy would have his arm around my shoulders and he would kiss my cheek. and I would feel it, actually feel it again.
"See," he would say, "-your mother is a special lady."
As soon as we finished our breakfast the next day. Mommy had me join her in the garden. We worked side by side for hours, turning the earth, planting her herbs. As we worked, she talked more about her early life and told me stories I had never before heard.
"You know. I wanted a little brother or sister for the longest time," she said. "I was lonely and it was always hard to have friends over to our home. My mother tried to have more children. She did
everything Grandma Jordan told her to do, but nothing worked, and after a while, they concluded that because Mommy was only able to have me, I must be someone very, very special.
"My mother became my best friend," she told me and smiled at me. "Just like I'm your best friend and always will be. Noble. That's okay, isn't it?"
"Yes," I said. "But you went to public school. Didn't you ever have a close friend?"
"No," she said quickly and turned away from me. Then sh
e hesitated and turned back. "There was someone once, a girl in the ninth grade. Sandra Cooke, but she became friends with very bad kids. and I knew I would get into trouble if I stayed friends with her. I told her mother on her, and she hated me forever afterward.''
"What did she do?"
"She was, as they used to say. promiscuous. You don't know what that means because you don't read enough. Noble, but let's just say she was loose with her body, and she did things with boys she shouldn't have done."
Of course I knew what it meant. but I said nothing.
"She didn't seem to care who she was with. Your body can betray you sometimes," she continued. "People think pleasure is something good all the time, but it's not. Sometimes, it's just the evil spirits' way to open doors to your very soul. Once inside, they can rot you like an apple.
"But," she said, running her fingers through my short hair. "you must not worry about that. It v ill never happen to you."
She looked up at the sky.
"Let's work faster. Its supposed to rain hard today," she said. "and most likely tomorrow as well."
We did work until the rain began, and then we went inside and I sat by the window and read and watched the wind whip the sheets of drops over the trees and meadow. Daddy hated long rainstorms. but Mommy would tell him it cleansed the world and he should be grateful. Of course he retorted with. "It makes it harder for builders, and that doesn't help our bottom line ,
"It's your soul's bottom line I would worry about," Mommy countered, and he would pull his ear and smile at me. "Can't argue with a mystic," he sometimes said. Mommy hated to be called that.
"There's nothing mystical about me. Nothing mysterious. What's mysterious to me is why so many people are blind to the beauty of the spiritual truths in our world," she said.
In the end Daddy surrendered and went off laughing about the futility of arguing with her. There was a different sort of music in our house then, a different sort of light. too. Would all that return as Mommy promised?
I watched the rain until I grew tired and went to sleep. The following day. as Mommy had predicted, it rained until late in the afternoon. It was almost dark before it stopped, in fact. I sat in the living room and completed some of my workbook assignments. Suddenly a sweep of light passed over the wall. and I looked up sharply. I heard a door slam and then another. Moments later the bell rang. and Mommy came out of the kitchen. She looked curiously at me and wiped her hands on her apron. I shook my head.
"Who could that be?" she muttered and went to the door. I stood in the living room doorway and watched.
A policeman and Mr. Fletcher stood there. The policeman was still wearing a raincoat, but Mr. Fletcher was in a sports jacket and slacks and looked like he had just come from a social event.
"Yes?" Mommy said. She looked at Mr. Fletcher.
"We're here to see if your son has seen my son recently," he said.
"What?" Mommy brought her hands to her hips.
"Mr. Fletcher's son Elliot has been missing for a few days. Mrs. Atwell," the policeman said. His car and all his things are at the house, but he's not there, and no one has seen him. He hasn't been to school. We've questioned all his friends at school, and the only thing left to do is speak to your son."
"Why would Noble know anything about him?" she demanded.
The policeman looked at Mr. Fletcher. "My daughter suggested he might." "Why would she say that?"
"She said he had seen him recently," he told her. and Mommy slowly turned to me.