Read Online The Spirit Room by Marschel Paul - Free Book Online
Authors: Marschel Paul
Tags: Fiction
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shoulder height in the wall near the back of the room and then carved out a skinny tunnel from the hole straight down to the floor. He installed a sweet little bell in the hole, hooked it to a black cord, and ran the cord down the tunnel and then under several floorboards. It ended up at the very spot where he said he would stand during séances. He tied it to his boot, crossed his arms, and just moved his foot a little. Then, ring, ring, ring.
“The spirits’re chimin’ away like boys in a choir,” Papa said.
Then he pasted a fresh strip of the green and blue striped wallpaper over the damage he’d done to the wall. He and Billy swept up some dust and blew it off the palms of their hands and made it look just as dirty as the rest of the wall.
Every time something went right like the bell, he’d grin and slap Billy on the shoulder. Then, every time something didn’t fit right or do what he wanted, he’d blame Billy somehow and cuss at him.
Papa’d say, “You got the wrong damn one,” or “I told you the smallest,” or “Why ain’t you smart like your sisters?” Pulling back her pen from the alphabet paper, Clara clenched her teeth each and every time, waiting for something awful. But just when Billy looked like he was about to yell something back or throw a tool on the floor or maybe stomp out, Papa would break out his grin again and say, “Come on then, my Billy boy, we’ll get it right.”
It was a good thing Papa didn’t kick up too much of a stink, because Billy had been different since they’d come to Geneva. He wasn’t as likely to cast his brown eyes down and wait for Papa’s storms to pass over him, unless of course Papa was pickled, then he just skedaddled. But now, if Papa wasn’t liquorized, Billy’d raise up his face and look right into Papa’s eyes and stare at him.
Mamma always said, “A father and son have to work out between them whether the father is going to let the son be a man and sometimes it ain’t easy.”
Between Billy, who must have finished with being a boy on the road between Homer and Geneva, and Izzie, who had her own mind about just about everything, there weren’t too many quiet times when Papa was around.
Clara slowed her hand as she darkened a letter. She wanted it to be perfect and handsome. And besides that, she didn’t want to go back to the sewing. Those few days of getting the Spirit Room ready were like summertime in the middle of winter. Even though Izzie wasn’t there, the famous Benton Sisters were being born. A new beginning for all of them. It was just what Papa needed. As soon as Izzie saw how clever the secret knocker was, she’d come around. Papa was right about that. Papa was mostly right about everything. Except Billy, anyway.
<><><>
WHEN THE SPIRIT ROOM was finally fixed up for their circles, Clara showed it to Izzie. Papa had told her it was her mission to get Izzie to agree to go ahead as the Benton Sisters, talented mediums. He could make Izzie do it, he’d said, but if Izzie was too ornery she wouldn’t be a charming medium and charming was important. He said that the medium business was the only way he could figure to make money for now and she and Izzie had to do it. Clara had to convince her sister to go along.
After Clara gave Izzie a demonstration of Papa’s floor knocker and the secret bell and showed off her alphabet, she stood with Izzie at the window looking down onto Seneca Street. It was bustling with walkers, horses, wagons and carriages. Except for a patch here and there, snow and ice had melted in the recent warm spell. Fidgeting with a dirty red and white checkered hair ribbon that she held in her hands, Clara leaned against the wall facing Izzie. The wind blew against the window, forcing cold air in.
“We have to work anyway, Iz. Papa has no income. We can do more seamstress work or be chambermaids or maybe shoe binders, but we would have so much more fun and money
“The spirits’re chimin’ away like boys in a choir,” Papa said.
Then he pasted a fresh strip of the green and blue striped wallpaper over the damage he’d done to the wall. He and Billy swept up some dust and blew it off the palms of their hands and made it look just as dirty as the rest of the wall.
Every time something went right like the bell, he’d grin and slap Billy on the shoulder. Then, every time something didn’t fit right or do what he wanted, he’d blame Billy somehow and cuss at him.
Papa’d say, “You got the wrong damn one,” or “I told you the smallest,” or “Why ain’t you smart like your sisters?” Pulling back her pen from the alphabet paper, Clara clenched her teeth each and every time, waiting for something awful. But just when Billy looked like he was about to yell something back or throw a tool on the floor or maybe stomp out, Papa would break out his grin again and say, “Come on then, my Billy boy, we’ll get it right.”
It was a good thing Papa didn’t kick up too much of a stink, because Billy had been different since they’d come to Geneva. He wasn’t as likely to cast his brown eyes down and wait for Papa’s storms to pass over him, unless of course Papa was pickled, then he just skedaddled. But now, if Papa wasn’t liquorized, Billy’d raise up his face and look right into Papa’s eyes and stare at him.
Mamma always said, “A father and son have to work out between them whether the father is going to let the son be a man and sometimes it ain’t easy.”
Between Billy, who must have finished with being a boy on the road between Homer and Geneva, and Izzie, who had her own mind about just about everything, there weren’t too many quiet times when Papa was around.
Clara slowed her hand as she darkened a letter. She wanted it to be perfect and handsome. And besides that, she didn’t want to go back to the sewing. Those few days of getting the Spirit Room ready were like summertime in the middle of winter. Even though Izzie wasn’t there, the famous Benton Sisters were being born. A new beginning for all of them. It was just what Papa needed. As soon as Izzie saw how clever the secret knocker was, she’d come around. Papa was right about that. Papa was mostly right about everything. Except Billy, anyway.
<><><>
WHEN THE SPIRIT ROOM was finally fixed up for their circles, Clara showed it to Izzie. Papa had told her it was her mission to get Izzie to agree to go ahead as the Benton Sisters, talented mediums. He could make Izzie do it, he’d said, but if Izzie was too ornery she wouldn’t be a charming medium and charming was important. He said that the medium business was the only way he could figure to make money for now and she and Izzie had to do it. Clara had to convince her sister to go along.
After Clara gave Izzie a demonstration of Papa’s floor knocker and the secret bell and showed off her alphabet, she stood with Izzie at the window looking down onto Seneca Street. It was bustling with walkers, horses, wagons and carriages. Except for a patch here and there, snow and ice had melted in the recent warm spell. Fidgeting with a dirty red and white checkered hair ribbon that she held in her hands, Clara leaned against the wall facing Izzie. The wind blew against the window, forcing cold air in.
“We have to work anyway, Iz. Papa has no income. We can do more seamstress work or be chambermaids or maybe shoe binders, but we would have so much more fun and money
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