Through an open window, p.18
Through an Open Window, page 18
Mouse couldn’t tell if her heart had slowed down or sped up. She sat with her hands folded in her lap like a child posing for a school photo, trying to imagine the look on her two brothers’ faces when she told them their mother has been seeing ghosts.
“You okay?” Margaret asked, and Mouse gave a small twitch that might have been read as a nod. “It’s nothing to be afraid of, darlin’,” said Margaret. “Aunt Edith, I mean. I figure she’s just another of life’s mysteries we’re not meant to solve.”
Her mother put the old Volvo into reverse, and Mouse, too tired, too bewildered, to think up a response, sat in silence all the way home.
Now she stood in her kitchen, the counters crowded with cookies and cupcakes, waiting on the timer to signal another batch of gingersnaps was ready to come out of the oven. It was almost time for Nick to come home. He’d said he wanted her to talk to him. Well, wait till he heard what she had to tell him tonight. This was one of those times Mouse was glad she’d married a doctor. There had to be something wrong with her mother. Surely Nicky would know what it was. The knock on the back door caused her to jump as she stirred another bowlful of batter. She went to answer it with chocolate all over her chin.
Kitty Goldsmith stood in the garage, a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in one hand, and three large bouquets of sunflowers in the other. She raised the bottle up over her head. “Lord, I could smell sugar from the driveway!” she said, pushing past Mouse and into the kitchen. “And it makes sense now. Looks like Willy Wonka lives here.”
She handed the sunflowers to a dumbfounded Mouse and sat the Jack Daniel’s on the counter between two racks of freshly iced chocolate cupcakes. “I’ve come to apologize,” she said, pulling up a kitchen stool, sitting down, and kicking off her silver sandals. “I was talkin’ to some friends at lunch this afternoon and your name came up. I had told them your catering company was the best in the whole city, and that’s not a lie. But then somebody mentioned your husband—don’t worry, I didn’t tell them about what you’ve been worryin’ about—and everybody started sayin’ how he worships the very ground you walk on in those little black loafers of yours. And not only him, apparently. You, Aggie honey, are beloved in this town. Hell, from what I heard today, if Dr. Nick Moretti ever did do what you were afraid he might do, why, a whole squadron of Wesleyanites would ride at dawn to tar and feather that man’s tight little ass right out of this city. So, I’m sorry if I made it a bigger deal than it needed to be. Giving you Nathan Culpepper’s card and all. I hope I didn’t go and make things worse. I can do that sometimes.” Kitty reached for a chocolate chip cookie. “You don’t mind, do you?” she said, waving the cookie over the crowded counter. “I mean, it looks like you got plenty.”
“I bake when I’m upset,” said Mouse, wishing the woman would stop calling her Aggie. The oven buzzer sounded and she went to retrieve a tray of hot gingersnaps, while Dinky the cat strode purposefully into the kitchen, signaling that it was now six on the dot, one minute more and his dinner would officially be late. “I appreciate you coming by, Kitty,” Mouse said, taking the cookies off the sheet pan one by one and placing them on a cooling rack. “But you really didn’t have to. I told you at lunch, it was all just a big misunderstanding. I know Nick would never cheat on me.”
Dinky let out a yowl just then, and Mouse hurried back across the room and took a can of Fancy Feast from a cabinet. After she’d set a full bowl of food down in front of the impatient cat, she plopped onto the stool beside Kitty and picked up a cupcake, running her forefinger through the thick chocolate icing and sticking it into her mouth.
“You’re a right funny color, you know that?” said Kitty, staring over at Mouse and rocking her hand in the air. “Somewhere between storm gray and pea green. You about to throw up?”
Mouse let out a tiny, weak laugh. “No, Kitty,” she said. “I’m not about to throw up.” Taking a deep breath to make sure that was true, she rested her head on the palm of her hand and sighed.
“Look,” said Kitty, pushing the plate of cupcakes away and leaning in closer to Mouse. “You and me go way back, Aggie. We’ve known each other since we were just kids, even if we were in two different groups way back then. I know we haven’t seen each other for years, and if you went out shoppin’ for a new friend, you’d most likely pass me right by. I know what some people think. That I’m a little too much. Too much talk, too much drama. Hell, too much trouble. But history has to count for something when it comes to friendship. Right? You know, I can still see you sittin’ across that room in Miss Hester’s class, with a skint knee. You’d fallen down at recess, I remember. And what was that…third grade? So, you might say I’m really a very old friend. And if you can’t talk to an old friend, well, who can you talk to? I’m not somebody you have to impress, Aggie. If you want to talk, honey, you can talk to me. Anytime.”
Mouse sat still for a minute, then surprised herself once again. “Kitty,” she said, looking into the woman’s eyes and noticing for the first time how green they were, “my father died last March. I was close to him and…and since then I guess I’ve slid into some kind of dark hole. I’ve started doing these crazy things, like ordering stuff off TV in the middle of the night. Things I don’t want and wouldn’t wear if you paid me. And I don’t sleep, not hardly at all anymore. I say critical things about people inside of my head, awful things, sometimes. Things I used to not even think. And I…I flirted with a college student when I took my son up to school in September. Made a complete fool of myself. I mean nothing happened. Obviously. The poor boy probably didn’t even know I was flirting with him, now that I think about it. I bet he just thought I was some crazy old woman with some kind of hormonal imbalance, which might be true, for all I know. But all that’s neither here nor there now, because just a few hours ago I learned—”
“Well, at least you’ve had a reason,” interrupted Kitty, laughing loudly as she reached back for the bottle of Jack Daniel’s. “Shit, Aggs, I do worse stuff than all that all the time. And why? I couldn’t even begin to tell you why! I never even met my daddy, but if I’d had a good one, I can only imagine how hard it’d be to lose him. No wonder you’ve run off the rails. You got cause.”
“But you didn’t let me finish,” said Mouse, watching as Kitty poured Jack Daniel’s into a measuring cup and handed it over to her. She could see a thin layer of flour floating on top. She took a large sip, ignoring the flour and feeling only the burn. Closing her eyes, she said, “Kitty, now I’m afraid something’s wrong with my mother. I…I found out today that…she’s been seeing ghosts. She said so, right out loud. She’s seen her great-aunt, and some little boy she thinks might be her brother.” Mouse took another sip of bourbon and shuddered. “I haven’t told Nick this yet, he’s on call today and still at the hospital. Like I said, I just found out myself. And I don’t have a clue what to do.”
Whatever reaction Mouse was expecting did not materialize. Kitty just threw back her head and again laughed her yodeling laugh. “Your mama’s seen a ghost? Good Lord, is that all?” she said.
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Aggie.” Kitty slowly shook her blond head, looking at Mouse with something like pity. “This cannot be the first time you’ve heard of people poppin’ through the veil. Hell, it’s a Southern tradition! Listen, I sat with Grandma Calhoun while she was dying. My mother’s mother—we all called her Birdie—she lived with us when she got too old to cook for herself. Now, that woman had a passel of long-dead sisters, and I swear she saw every one of ’em sittin’ across the room from her every single day. Picked right up with whatever argument they’d been having last time she saw ’em. And for two weeks or more—right up until she finally threw off the quilts and joined ’em for good—they’d talk about all the people they’d known, the boys they’d dated, the men they’d married. I swear, I learned things my own mama didn’t know. All one-sided conversations, of course, at least to my ears. But I’ll swear on a saint’s Bible, Birdie heard it all. To tell you the God’s honest truth, I’ll be kinda disappointed if the same thing doesn’t happen to me when I take my leave of this earth.”
“My mother’s not on her deathbed, Kitty. She pulled out of my driveway less than two hours ago, on her way to buy pumpkins for the front porch.”
“Oh, you don’t have to be dyin’ to see a ghost,” said Kitty, matter-of-factly. “I had this cousin, Bonnie. Used to live down in Mobile and visit us in the summer. Well, her husband, Bertram, died young, and when their son, Bubber, got married—I remember this like it was yesterday—Bonnie sat right there in that Church of God reception hall with a little plastic glass of pineapple punch in her hand and told a whole table full of Calhouns she still sees Bertram sittin’ in the laundry room every time she goes in there to wash a load of clothes. Now I tell you what, this is the straightest little white woman God ever made—a tax accountant for over twenty years—hell, she does the preacher’s taxes—and she told that story like she was tellin’ you what she planned to fix for dinner.” Kitty patted Mouse on the arm, her diamond bracelet jangling. “No, ma’am, I don’t ever judge somebody’s sanity by standards as flimsy as whether or not they see ghosts. You shouldn’t either, Aggie.”
“Please call me Mouse.” Mouse took a large bite of chocolate cupcake and washed it down with another sip of Jack Daniel’s. This was now the third time that talking with Kitty Goldsmith seemed to be making her feel better. “So,” she said, her mouth full, “you don’t think I have anything to worry about.”
“I didn’t say that,” said Kitty, picking up a warm gingersnap. “From where I sit, you’ve got a few things to worry about. First off, you can’t have your mama telling people her dead kinfolk are droppin’ by willy-nilly. You gotta stop her from doin’ that. You know how people are, and you don’t want her to get a reputation. But I can tell you this from experience: don’t run headlong into thinking your mama’s losin’ her mind, or you might just start to lose yours. Now, can I wrap up a few of these cupcakes to take with me?”
18
Emlynn
Every Sunday morning at eleven o’clock, an impressive chunk of the citizenry of Wesleyan, those who generally tend to mix and mingle without giving voice to the differences they all know exist, peel off into tribes of like minds and assemble inside the six old churches that sit within walking distance of the town square. Presbyterians, Baptists, Episcopalians. Catholics, Methodists, Lutherans. Separated thusly, they sit in familiar pews, sing familiar songs, hear familiar words, and for that one blessed hour each week, they find comfort in the assurance of accord and congruity, which is no small thing in a small Southern town. But when the clock strikes noon, all are united again as they race one another to Mama’s Way Cafe for Sunday lunch, each of them hoping for a booth by the window. It is a point of commonality, and not being churchgoers themselves, this morning, the Elliot children had a head start.
After her last time with the family, Emlynn wasn’t looking forward to this brunch. She wasn’t feeling herself today, was afraid she might be coming down with something, and had no desire for a repeat performance of Lawrie and Tom’s contentious relationship. She could still see herself sitting at that table in the Yamacraw Room, her risotto going cold as her eyes pinged between the two brothers like a pinball just before tilt. When she got up and left the table that night, she fled to the bathroom, where she’d sat on a closed toilet and cried like a baby, recalling those days when her parents’ arguments had spilled out from their tight circle of three, into restaurants and shopping malls where others could hear them, leaving her, the only child, standing off to the side feeling somehow responsible for their bad behavior. She’d felt like she should apologize for Lawrie that night at Jessamine, and she didn’t want to feel like that ever again.
Over her tall menu, Emlynn stole another glance at Tom. He looked like a different person with the new beard; only his eyes were still Lawrie’s. Now, instead of being seen as identical from fifty paces away, the twins only appeared to share a strong resemblance, rather like first cousins, or royalty.
“I was early, so I’ve already ordered some coffee for us all,” said Mouse. “But feel free to get something else to drink if you want. The waitress should be back in a minute.”
“Coffee’s fine,” said Lawrie, looking around the room. “Being heathens obviously has its advantages,” he said. “Y’all scored the best table. Well done.”
Emlynn laughed, a fraction too loudly, then she felt tears prick her eyes. She blinked them back furiously. What was wrong with her?
“I’m sorry Nicky couldn’t be here,” said Mouse. “He was getting dressed to come with me when he got a call. But I’ve told him all about this. He’s not too concerned, but he agrees that you all should know.”
Four cups of coffee in Mama’s Way mugs were placed on the table and each person reached for their own. Lawrie ripped open two packets of sugar, and Tom opened two containers of cream. Spoons clanked as they all stirred, then expectantly turned back toward Mouse.
“I’m…Okay…Well, I’m sorry to be so dramatic,” said Mouse, “I mean, having you meet me here while Mother’s at church. You didn’t tell her where you were going, did you, Tommy?”
“I told you I didn’t,” said Tom. “I was still in bed when she left.”
“Oh, right. It’s just, well, I found out something kind of…I don’t know…disturbing, yesterday. And I don’t want her to know that I’ve told you. Not yet anyway.” Mouse was fiddling with her paper napkin, tearing off little pieces of white and slowly constructing a small snowy mountain.
“Well, what is it?” said Lawrie, impatiently.
Mouse took a deep breath, then a long sip of coffee. When she finally began, Emlynn noticed a tremor in her voice. “Okay, here it is. You know we went to see that investigator yesterday, Nathan Culpepper, and…”
“Does he think there’s anything to that stuff she found?” asked Lawrie, flipping his napkin onto his lap.
“There might be,” said Mouse. “I mean, I don’t know, he’s going to check into it. But that’s not the thing…Listen, Mother told him she’s been…well, she’s been seeing things. Like…ghosts.”
Everyone froze, staring at Mouse. Emlynn saw Lawrie start to grin. “I’m not kidding,” said Mouse, firmly, her eyes darting warningly to her brother. She leaned across the table toward him. Speaking faster and more forcefully, she said, “Mother told that investigator yesterday that she’s been seeing the ghost of Aunt Edith. She said she sees her at night, in her bedroom, and…apparently, it’s been going on since the week Daddy died. Seven months ago. And then, she said…just last week—the very night you came home, Tommy—she said she saw the…the ghost of that little boy we all saw in that old photo Emlynn found. I didn’t know what to say when she told him that. I just sat there like an idiot and let her talk. I swear, she acted like it was the most normal thing in the world. Told me later not to worry, said she could never be afraid of Aunt Edith. Like that was the worrisome part.”
The waitress approached the table just then, and Emlynn shook her head. “Could you give us a few more minutes?” she said. “We haven’t taken time to look at the menu yet, I’m afraid. Sorry.”
Frowning slightly, the waitress moved away to the next table, and Lawrie stared hard at Mouse. “Are you sure you heard her right?” he asked, still looking a little amused. Emlynn could tell that Mouse had expected this response.
“God, yes, Lawrie.” Mouse’s shoulders sagged, as if an invisible string that was holding them up had just been suddenly cut. “Why else do you think I called you two? I wanted to ask you, face-to-face, have either of you noticed anything, you know, unusual about her lately? Something she might have said that seemed odd, something you might’ve just explained away at the time? You’ve been with her since Monday night, Tom. Has she done anything out of the ordinary?”
“Well, no,” said Tom, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb in a gesture of worry Emlynn could read. Lawrie was, at this moment, doing the very same thing.
“Seriously, Mouse, don’t you think she was kidding?” said Lawrie. “Maybe just pulling that man’s leg or something like that?”
“She was not pulling his leg.” Mouse pushed aside her coffee, folded her arms on the green Formica table, and plopped her head down, a curtain of dark hair covering her face. Her voice muffled, she said, “Lawrie, she told him all this so matter-of-factly, I swear I thought I was the one who was nuts.” She raised her head back up. “Not that I’m saying Mother is nuts,” she said, quickly, then let out a long breath. “I stayed up half the night, talking this all over with Nicky, because I was worried it might be small strokes or something like that. I remember what happened to Bethann Bixby’s mother. Bethann told me. The woman could act completely normal, and then just…I don’t know…go all funny. Bethann said one afternoon her mother was completely convinced there was a spider monkey out in her rose garden. She actually called some wild animal park over in Albany. ’Course it turned out Bethann’s mother had just got ahold of some Xanax and was taking too much. And anyway, Nick said small strokes don’t work that way. People don’t hallucinate with those.”
