Between Screams and Silence

Chapter 9: End

When I open my eyes, everything looks the same, except the drapes are now open and the sunlight streams through the sash window, casting a pleasant, welcoming heat over my hands which rest on the table.

Barbara stands by the window, arms wrapped around herself again as if she's still feeling cold, but a thin layer of perspiration glistens on her forehead.

Blinking from the light in the room, I flex my fingers, stretching out the tension in my hands.

"What happened?" I say, feeling clouds of confusion fuzzing my head. "I remember coming in here, remember sitting down at the table and the Ouija board talking..." My eyes widen slightly as I look at Barbara in wonder. "Did it work? Did the good spirits help me?"

"Why, yes," she says quickly with a brash, Hollywood smile. "Yes, of course they did."

"You're sure?"

"Well, how do you feel?"

I pause for a moment, frowning slightly as I dig deep, struggling to break through the daze of memories lost and out of reach. I feel... something. But it's a good feeling, one that reminds me of lazy summer days working in the backyard, one that makes me think of Rheemus holding me tight or the sounds of Brenda gurgling in her bassinet.

"You know something, Ms. Arden... I think you're right. I think the spirits really did help me."

She smiles again, but it breaks just before it reaches its full dazzling power.

"Ms. Arden? Are you okay?"

She laughs, a little too loudly and pats a hand over her hair, as if trying to make sure all the curls are firmly in place. "Of course, everything's just swell. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I really need to be getting on, so much to do..."

I've kept her too long, of course I have. I stand up quickly, wiping my palms down my skirt. "I am so sorry, you're a very busy woman, I totally understand." I head towards the door, but stop before I get there, turning around so quickly that she flinches and seems to freeze to the spot. "Ms. Arden, I can't thank you enough, really I can't. I... I don't have any money on me right now, but I will stop by tomorrow and..."

"No," she says, cutting me off abruptly, shaking her head. "Not necessary. Just happy to help."

I leave Barbara Arden's house into a haze of honeysuckle and jasmine, thinking just how nice she is and just how good I feel. I haven't felt this good in what seems like forever.

A long anguished hiss interrupts my moment of peace and I turn my head slowly to see Mr. Faustus crouched in the corner of the porch, his back arched, black fur bristling up his spine. He fixes me with wide yellow eyes.

I smile. "You miserable old fur-ball! Not even you can ruin this. Go on, get."

With a shriek, he's gone, darting off the porch and disappearing into the shade of the magnolia trees in the yard. Stepping off the butter-colored porch steps, I raise my face up and close my eyes, enjoying the touch of the sun on my eyelids as I exhale low and steady. Everything feels just how it should be.

In fact, from now on, I'm certain that everything is going to be just swell.

***

May, 2002.

The monitor crackles, a baby's cry erupting through the speaker, loud and strong.

She's got lungs, that girl. Strong, loud-as-you-like lungs that hold more air than the Goodyear Blimp. I smile at the sound as Brenda rushes in, juggling a load of laundry in her arms, fresh from the washer. I'm not sure I've ever seen so many baby clothes in my life, a chaotic jumble of soft pink and lemon suits, bibs, bonnets and the tiniest of socks.

Harlequin Jaden Jones was a premature baby, a little on the small side but healthy nevertheless. She cries a lot, just like her Mama did, but she has more fire in her belly, a furious light that beams right out of her and it's beautiful to see. Captivating almost.

"Ah, Mama," Brenda says, shooting an exhausted look at the monitor, breathing hard as she plonks all the laundry into the basket on the kitchen floor. "Would you go up and settle her for me? I really need to get this out on the line as Quinny is running pure out of clothes and I need it all dry by suppertime."

I set my tall glass of home-made lemonade down on the formica. "Of course. Consider it done, my darlin'. I'd be happy to."

The door to the nursery is slightly open. It's beautifully painted, all done by Grandpop Rheemus' skilled hand, since that feckless good-for-nothing boyfriend of Brenda's skipped town halfway through her pregnancy. Rheemus complained about the sugar-pink paint of course. Looks like a frickin' candy store, he'd grumbled. But when it was done and he stood back to admire his handiwork, I knew he couldn't care less about the color. All he cared about was giving Brenda what she wanted. He's always looked after his girls, me, Brenda and now Harlequin too.

I wander in, glancing around at the sugar-coated walls, the cotton candy drapes, the huge pile of stuffed fluffy toys in the corner. On the shelf, a row of perfectly-painted dolls sit side by side, all teased-curls and long dark lashes over glassy blue eyes. It's a perfect room for a perfect little girl.

Over in the bassinet, Harlequin lets out a volcano-size scream, clearly upset that no one has yet come and given her the attention she needs. I tilt my head to one side, as her legs jerk angrily and her little face turns red. Walking over to the window, I tap my fingers against the sill as I look down into the backyard, where Brenda is pinning the laundry to the line, stopping every now and then to wipe the sweat off her forehead.

"Well now," I exclaim breezily, turning back to Harlequin, who is still wailing. "What on earth are we going to do with you, little lady? That's a very loud voice for an itty bitty thing like you. You know, when I was young, my Grandma used to say that little girls that had too much to say for themselves must have the Devil inside of them." I run my fingers along the wicker edge. "But you don't have the Devil in you, do you? Oh no, you ain't got nothing but beautiful light right there in that belly of yours."

Reaching down, I pick her up, watching with amusement as her screwed-up little face relaxes and she gurgles happily in my arms. Laughing, I kiss her on the forehead and cradle her to my chest, rocking her back and forth, humming Clementine to her, just like I used to do with Brenda. I'm still singing softly to her as Brenda appears in the doorway and fixes me with a sheepish grin. She wants something. I always could tell when that girl wants something.

"Mama, I hate to ask, but would you mind watching Quinny while I go take a shower?"

I wave her off, pressing my nose down onto Harlequin's soft feathery hair, that is so like her Mama's was.

Brenda claps a hand over her chest as she leans against the frame, exhaling a contented sigh.

"Ah, I do that all the time too. Don't you just love that newborn baby smell?"

I breathe in deeply.

"Love it? Oh, she's so mouth-wateringly delicious, I swear I could just eat her up whole." I grin as I look up at Brenda who still hovers in the doorway. "Now go on, get will ya. I'll look after our darlin' Harlequin, don't you worry about that."

I take another sniff and smile as I inhale all her pure, sweet goodness. As sweet as apple pie and peach cobbler.

"I'll look after her just fine."