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Authors: Marthe Jocelyn
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saddest thing I ever heard.” We naturally had no file on someone from another town. Mama widened her eyes at me in a silent command; I had two minutes to extract something useful from her. “What a pretty ring,” I gushed. “Were you newlyweds?”
“We were married four months and nine days before he went overseas. In New Orleans. That’s where we were from.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“But I couldn’t bear to go back there after he died, so I’m trying out a new place. I just …” She shrugged. “I keep expecting to wake up and still be Buddy’s girl. I just can’t seem to get on with things.”
Mrs. Newman would not budge an inch the whole time Peg was taking the coats. It got to be awkward with her just standing there. I’d have to introduce her.
“This is Mrs. Newman,” I said. “Mr. Poole, Miss Weather, Mrs. Torn.”
“Will you be joining us for the calling, Mrs. Newman?” asked Mr. Poole.
“No,” I said.
“No,” said Mama.
“I don’t think—” said Mrs. Newman.
“Oh, please stay,” said Mr. Poole. “We would be delighted to extend the circle. If you haven’t seen Madame Caterina before, you must join us.” He was such a gentleman that she would have seemed downright rude to say no. “It’s sure to be a remarkable experience.”
Mrs. Newman smiled a half-smile and allowed Peg to take her coat too; her thin woolen coat without a trace of fur, not even rabbit, on the collar.
10
If you use the same pencil to
write a test that you used to
study for the test, the pencil
will remember the answers.
“Have you been to a séance before?” I asked as Mama ushered everyone into the front room. The young ladies shook their heads.
“We never know who will be waiting on the Other Side to greet my mother,” I explained. “She sends the message through and hopes to reach the callers’ departed loved ones, but the connection is fragile and occasionally broken.” I had to tell them this in case there was a perilous moment or an awkward question and Mama had to end the séance abruptly.
“How did you first know you had the second sight, Madame?” Miss Weather asked.
“Oh, even as a child,” said Mama, “I heard voices and saw what I now know were visions. I was eleven or twelve before I discovered that not everyone was able to see beyond the place and time where their earthbound bodies dwelt. My cousin, Timothy, died of diphtheria, but he still spent hisevenings in my room, playing Hide the Button and begging for ghost stories.” She always gave a melancholy laugh at this point in the recollection. “Poor little mite didn’t know he
was
a ghost.”
I wouldn’t want to read the book where Mama found that muck, but it often inspired wet eyes. Mr. Poole’s niece and her friend were likely softies. Mrs. Newman, however, looked as tough as a cowboy’s backside.
I lit the candles, set in sconces on the walls and in crystal saucers on the windowsill. The only electric illumination was a standing lamp, which Mama kept draped with a pink scarf so it cast a glow of sunset in one corner. Most mediums preferred to perform in complete darkness, but to us that screamed of tricks. Mama said “Seeing is believing,” so we kept the lights turned on, a little.
The seating arrangement was a delicate matter. Mama had her chair and I had mine, already rigged as needed. But it had to seem to the customers that I simply slid into the last empty seat. Once everyone was sitting down, I slipped off my shoes and looped the transparent fishing line around my ankle as I pretended to scrape my chair into position. That was the official opening of our routine. Mama admonished me, as she always did: “Annie, you’ll scare off the spirits. Be careful, dear heart!”
One of the ladies giggled, Miss Weather, I think. A nervous laugh is common at the beginning of a calling. We try to have them crying by the end. I was nervous that day, with Mrs. Newman sitting there looking downright leery.
“We
“We were married four months and nine days before he went overseas. In New Orleans. That’s where we were from.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“But I couldn’t bear to go back there after he died, so I’m trying out a new place. I just …” She shrugged. “I keep expecting to wake up and still be Buddy’s girl. I just can’t seem to get on with things.”
Mrs. Newman would not budge an inch the whole time Peg was taking the coats. It got to be awkward with her just standing there. I’d have to introduce her.
“This is Mrs. Newman,” I said. “Mr. Poole, Miss Weather, Mrs. Torn.”
“Will you be joining us for the calling, Mrs. Newman?” asked Mr. Poole.
“No,” I said.
“No,” said Mama.
“I don’t think—” said Mrs. Newman.
“Oh, please stay,” said Mr. Poole. “We would be delighted to extend the circle. If you haven’t seen Madame Caterina before, you must join us.” He was such a gentleman that she would have seemed downright rude to say no. “It’s sure to be a remarkable experience.”
Mrs. Newman smiled a half-smile and allowed Peg to take her coat too; her thin woolen coat without a trace of fur, not even rabbit, on the collar.
10
If you use the same pencil to
write a test that you used to
study for the test, the pencil
will remember the answers.
“Have you been to a séance before?” I asked as Mama ushered everyone into the front room. The young ladies shook their heads.
“We never know who will be waiting on the Other Side to greet my mother,” I explained. “She sends the message through and hopes to reach the callers’ departed loved ones, but the connection is fragile and occasionally broken.” I had to tell them this in case there was a perilous moment or an awkward question and Mama had to end the séance abruptly.
“How did you first know you had the second sight, Madame?” Miss Weather asked.
“Oh, even as a child,” said Mama, “I heard voices and saw what I now know were visions. I was eleven or twelve before I discovered that not everyone was able to see beyond the place and time where their earthbound bodies dwelt. My cousin, Timothy, died of diphtheria, but he still spent hisevenings in my room, playing Hide the Button and begging for ghost stories.” She always gave a melancholy laugh at this point in the recollection. “Poor little mite didn’t know he
was
a ghost.”
I wouldn’t want to read the book where Mama found that muck, but it often inspired wet eyes. Mr. Poole’s niece and her friend were likely softies. Mrs. Newman, however, looked as tough as a cowboy’s backside.
I lit the candles, set in sconces on the walls and in crystal saucers on the windowsill. The only electric illumination was a standing lamp, which Mama kept draped with a pink scarf so it cast a glow of sunset in one corner. Most mediums preferred to perform in complete darkness, but to us that screamed of tricks. Mama said “Seeing is believing,” so we kept the lights turned on, a little.
The seating arrangement was a delicate matter. Mama had her chair and I had mine, already rigged as needed. But it had to seem to the customers that I simply slid into the last empty seat. Once everyone was sitting down, I slipped off my shoes and looped the transparent fishing line around my ankle as I pretended to scrape my chair into position. That was the official opening of our routine. Mama admonished me, as she always did: “Annie, you’ll scare off the spirits. Be careful, dear heart!”
One of the ladies giggled, Miss Weather, I think. A nervous laugh is common at the beginning of a calling. We try to have them crying by the end. I was nervous that day, with Mrs. Newman sitting there looking downright leery.
“We
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