As quickly as the vision appeared, it
disappeared. I chastised myself for permitting my imagination to play such foolish games again.
"Come on. Celeste." I said. "Let's make lunch."
She slipped off the chair quickly and scurried like a puppy to my side, reaching up with one hand while she clung to her doll with the other. Thinking of a puppy brought back pages of memories of Cleo, the golden retriever I had had. He was a beautiful, loyal animal that had never left my side. Mama eventually gave him away because she had come to believe something evil entered our world through him like a Trojan horse. It broke my heart but there wasn't anything I could do.
When Mama made a pronouncement that was stamped with spiritual authority, there was no way to oppose it or contradict it.
"Some day I'll tell you about my dog. Celeste. How he would have loved you, loved to protect you. If he were here now, he wouldn't leave you alone for a moment. I'm sure."
"Dog," she said.
"That's right, my dog. Cleo." I told her.
"Cleo," she repeated, and she let go of my hand and ran ahead of me down the hallway.
"What are you doing?" I called.
She stopped at the hallway closet and struggled to open the door. "What is it?" I asked, helping to open it.
As soon as I had. she got clown on all fours and pulled aside a carton on the floor of the closet. Behind it was Cleo's egg-shell-white bowl. She brought it out to show me and I stood there .with my mouth agape. The bowl had Cleo written on two sides of it. I remembered the clay Mama had bought it.
"How could you..." I reached down and took it from her. I held it as I would some fragile jewel. Baby Celeste looked up at me, smiling. "I'd forgotten all about this." I smiled at her. "I guess you saw it when Mama moved things around in here and she told you what it was."
It didn't surprise me Baby Celeste would remember. She had a photogenic memory. All Mama and I had to do was tell her something once and she never forgot it, no matter how slight was our reference to something.
"Maybe someday Mama will let us have a dog again," I said, stroking the bowl as lovingly as I would stroke Cleo. Then I put it back behind the carton and closed the closet door.
I made us our lunch. Mama didn't return until late in the afternoon. The rain had come in periodic downpours so there wasn't much for me to do outside anyway. I spent the time with Baby Celeste. Mama had decided she was such a precocious child it would be a waste to spend all our time with her just playing with toys.
Consequently, she had gone out and bought what she considered were appropriate educational children's books and spent hours with Baby Celeste reviewing them. To my surprise, Mama had even been able to teach her some elementary reading. Mama. Having been a teacher and haying taught both Noble and myself at home all our lives, had great patience and concentration. Noble was never a great student, but he always did well enough on the exams we had to take at the school to meet the state's requirements for homeschooling. Obviously. Mama was preparing Baby Celeste for the same life and education.
I suppose I shouldn't have been at all amazed at Baby Celeste's abilities. I was always an exceptional student and had actually achieved my high school equivalency at fourteen. I loved reading and had read practically every book we had in the house, many of them old leather-bound classic editions. Baby Celeste's learning ability was just another way in which Mama reinforced her belief that my child was a spiritual resurrection. Watching her work with my baby did bring back my own childhood memories of our schooling at home. It was truly as if I was looking back in time.
We both looked up when we heard Mama return. She stepped into the living room doorway.
"How is she?" she asked, shaking the rain out of her hair. 'Did you have lunch?" "Yes. Mama."
"She should be taking a nap."
"She isn't tired. Urn the one who's tired," I muttered. "She's full of questions."
"That's how you learn. Noble, you ask questions. but I don't mean stupid questions,' she added quickly.
Baby Celeste stood up and pointed. "Bowl."
"What?" Mama asked, turning to me.
"Oh. I mentioned I had a dog named Cleo and she showed me Cleo's bowl in the closet. I guess she saw you arranging things in there and didn't forget."
Mama smiled that soft, small smile that lifted the corners of her mouth and brightened her beautiful light brown eyes.
"She never saw me do anything in that closet, Noble. What's there to do?" "But, how would she know then, Mama?"
"She knows." Mama said. nodding. "She knows every nook and cranny in this old house. She has the gift. I've told you that many times. Maybe now you'll start believing me and stop this doubting-Thomas business you've been conducting lately."
"I haven't been conducting any doubtingThomas business. Mama."
"Sometimes, you don't see yourself as well as I do. Noble. This is the time when I need you to have more faith, not less. Come on. Celeste." she beckoned. "Time for a nap."
Obediently, Baby Celeste went to her and Mama lifted her in her arms.
"Put all this away neatly, Noble. Fm thinking about doing some redecorating in the house," she added, gazing at the living room and nodding. "We need to freshen things up a bit, perhaps get some new area rugs, do some painting, lots of polishing and whitewashing."
"But I thought it was important that we never disturb things. Mama."
"We're not disturbing them. Noble. See! This is exactly what I mean. Every time I make a suggestion lately, you come up with a stupid. contradictory remark." she snapped. "Don't you think I know what I'm doing and I have reasons for changing things when I change them? Well?"
"Yes. Mama."
"Yes. Mama." she mimicked. She stared at me so hard I had to lower my eyes. "When your father was alive, nothing was neglected long. I was hoping you would take after him more in that regard and I wouldn't have to be chasing after you to fix this, mend that, all the time. You should show some initiative. Noble. You spend too much time with the baby and not enough on the house and the property."
"But... even; time I suggested changing anything you got angry at me. Mama."
"Frn not talking about changes. I'm talking about maintenance!" she screamed. She took a deep breath. looked up for a moment, then looked at me. "I don't want to get myself upset these days. Noble. I want to look fresh and happy and as attractive as I can. I spend hours and hours explaining to my clients how stress can add years to their appearance. I certainly don't want to be a bad example. Who would believe me then?
"Beauty and strength come from in here." she said, slapping her left hand over her heart while she held on to Baby Celeste with her right arm. "All the herbal remedies in the world, all the creams and lotions, can't contradict that. Harmony, harmony is what we should strive to achieve. Do you
understand?"
"Yes. Mama."
"Good. Now do what I asked.Ill be down in a little while and we'll beg-in an inspection and analysis of the house from top to bottom."
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if this had anything to do with Dave. Fletcher, but I was afraid of what such a question would bring on Usually Mama saw my fears in my face and attacked them, but she either didn't see them or did and chose to ignore them this time.
She walked off with Baby Celeste and I began to put all the toys and books away. She returned with a pad and pen and immediately decided that we needed to replace the curtains and drapes in the living room. Years and years of sunlight had faded them. Why it had taken her so long to notice and suddenly care was beyond me, but she dropped a heavy hint as we walked through the room, focusing closely on everything in it.
"I saw what nice things Dave has done in that old house sincehes been there. He has good taste. You would never think a man forced to live like a bachelor with a daughter who couldn't care less about their home would have such a good eye for domestic beauty, but he does. He even understands balance. Oh, not as deeply as energy balance, but neverthele
ss, maybe out of some natural instincts, he has achieved quite a bit of that.
"Anyway, it made me think twice about our home. Noble, and how we've neglected it these dozen or so years. I know you've been good about basic repairs here and there on the outside," she said, contradicting what she had accused me of before." but the inside of a house is like the inside of a person. It has to be healthy and strong, too.
"Besides, when Dave comes here, I don't want him thinking we're living like people lost in their past. People often judge each other by their possessions. I know it's like judging a book by its cover, but nevertheless, it's how most people think and we can't ignore
"Mr. Fletcher is coming here? I asked as softly as I could. I didn't want it to sound like another challenge or disapproval.
"Of course he's coming here. Why shouldn't he come here? I didn't raise you to be afraid of meeting people. Noble."
When is he coming?"
"When I'm ready for him."
I thought I heard the sound of a laugh.
I spun around and heard the raindrops tapping against the windowpanes like fingers with long nails. This is so wrong. I thought. Mama is making a big mistake turning down this path. How could I make her see without raising her ire? I would have to tell her everything perhaps, especially about the vision I had had earlier and the threats that had followed.
Experience had taught me not to blurt out anything like that. however. I had to be careful, so very careful.
"You know it really is foolish of us not to have a microwave oven," she said suddenly. It makes us look so backward and out of touch. There are other things I'd like to do in the kitchen. If s not that we don't have the money for these things. We do. I've just been distracted by other things, but some additions and small changes have to be made. Noble. We have to prepare for the future."
"What future?"
"What future? Our future, but most important. Baby Celeste's future. You can see yourself what she is, what she can do and will do. Nothing must stand in her way, especially some stupid prejudices. I want her to have all the opportunities to develop fully. Just like you've had," she added, stinging me with her gaze. "opportunities I don't think you've taken advantage of or fully appreciate yet."
"I do, Mama."
"We'll see. Time will tell. All right. Let's move on to the den. I'm thinking about recovering that floor, and it needs new lamps and I want to touch up the woodwork. You'll do that. Well try to do as much as we can ourselves so we don't have people marching in and out of here all day. Tomorrow. I'd like you to start stripping off the paint around the window frames. Were going to repaint them all, freshen up the outside appearance of the house as well.
"I want anyone to look at our home and see the beauty that's in it and think. This could easily be my home. too.' Understand?"
I couldn't speak.
I couldn't swallow.
Who was anyone? Where was she taking us?
I managed to nod and she continued through the house, rambling off a catalog of improvements that even involved her own bedroom.
The rain slowed. The drops changed from fingernails to tears on the panes, and in one, the water seemed to form the outline of a head, Elliot's head. I hurried away.
I thought perhaps that Mama had just been talking and didn't mean half the things she had said, but in the days that followed. Mama pursued this new and relentless determination to spruce up our home. She was often gone for a good part of every day shopping and visiting with decorators.
In the evening she would spread out the samples of carpets, wallpaper, and paint colors on the living room floor and analyze not only the
combinations, but what she called the aura of colors. White, for example, had an aura of high spiritual energy. With pink she felt pure love. She found nature and natural health in brown.
"How do you know all this. Mama? How do you see it?" I asked her as she studied the variations and combinations.
"I don't see it through my eves. I see it in my mind. I can see colors around a person and that tells me their emotions, their thoughts. Energy flows in and out of us every day. Noble, and what we contain, absorb, and reflect tells a great deal about us.
"Each color has its own vibrations. Someday, you'll be able to feel them as I do." She paused and looked at Celeste, who was drawn to the whites and the pinks. "As. I believe, Baby Celeste already does,' she added in a soft whisper.
"When will I be able to do that. too?"
"When you are not distracted by other, far less significant things." Mama replied with criticism in her voice. "When you can concentrate and meditate and take the time to experience them with the
concentration they require."
What did she mean by distractions, by far less significant things? What had I done or said to let her make these statements, these accusations? Did she see something in me that I couldn't see in myself?
"Let me concentrate," she said before I could ask. "I need to make the right decisions. Seeing how well Mr. Fletcher has done in his own home has inspired me."
Despite how she made that sound, from the way she spoke about her choices and the
ones Dave Fletcher had made in his home, I began to believe she was thinking in terms of setting some sort of spiritual trap.
What's more, the prospect of people coming to work in the house in the near future first put same panic in me. Then I thought. What about Baby Celeste? Did this mean we would finally reveal her? I'd like that and so would Baby Celeste. Perhaps all this wouldn't be bad, after all.
She answered that question the night before the drapery man came to measure the windows she wanted redone,
"What will we do about Baby Celeste when he comes to work in the house, Mama? And when others come?"
She paused and smiled.
"Remember that book Celeste read aloud to you, the one that disturbed you so much?" she began.
I had read only a few books to Noble. He never wanted to sit still long enough to listen. but Mama made him, hoping that he would develop an interest in learning and become a better student. He didn't, but the one book that did keep him mesmerized and did disturb him was The Diary of Anne Frank, and that was because he couldn't imagine being so locked up and made to be so quiet so much of the time.
Noble was truly like a wild creature when he was outside. He hated coming in to eat, to do our studies, and to sleep, and if he was sick and had to stay inside, he was unhappy. He would sit by the window and stare out like a prisoner in a dungeon. Neither rain, nor sleet, nor heavy snowfalls deterred him. Mama used to think he was tuned in to the spiritual energy in nature more than I was, but that proved to be a disappointment.
The length of time Anne Frank and her family were locked away and their restricted lifestyle both terrified and intrigued Noble. He had so many questions. How do you choke back a cough, a sneeze, a cry?
"Yes. I remember," I said.
"Well, that's how it will be when they're here. Noble. Obviously, it will be for a longer time than when I have a customer stop by. You might be up there with Baby Celeste all day."
"All day?"
"I'll bring you lunch, but you'll have to keep her especially quiet when they're working on my bedroom. I'm having a few things done, including new carpet. I would say you could come down when she's asleep, but if she wakes up and you're not there with her, she would be upset. If s a small sacrifice for you to make."
I was quiet.
"What is it. Noble? I can see your mind spinning like a leaf caught in the creek."
"You told me they said we cannot keep Baby Celeste locked away from the world too much longer."
"I know what I said. Don't you think I remember what I say?" she snapped.
"I didn't mean you don't remember. I meant maybe we could let her be seen finally,"
Blood rushed into her face, but she closed her eves and with the power she could will like a fairy goddess waving her wand, she forced the blood back.
"When the time is right
, when the time comes, we will." she said slowly, punching out her words like my hammering nails. "The time is not yet right." She shook her head,
"I just thought it would make it easier for us all and..."
"Don't... think," she ordered. "Just listen and do what you're told. Do you understand? Do you? Because if you don't, if you feel like something is preventing you, some dark force is cloggi.ng your ears and mixing you up inside your head, I want to know right now. I don't want to put Baby Celeste in any unnecessary danger," she added, the heaviness of the underlying threat not lost on me.
"I understand. Mama. I understand." "Good. Good."
Afterward, she went to her piano and played a musical piece I had never heard her play. Mama had very little sheet music. She once told me the music, all the notes, melodies, were already in the piano. When she sat on the stool and brought her fingers to the keyboard, she had no idea what she would play until she heard the first note. Then, she said, it all came up to her through her fingers, into her arms, into her heart.
All of the women who had lived in our house had played this piano, and cousins had often played when they had visited. I remember Mama talking about them when I was little, and about the piano never forgetting. She made it sound magical, a conduit through which she could reach back in time. Perhaps that was why she often had new thoughts, new revelations, to announce after she had finished playing.
When I was younger, many nights I awoke and heard the piano being played. Noble
never did and slept through it always. I would get up and tiptoe to the top of the stairway to listen. I knew Mama would be angry if I went downstairs and snuck up on her. Daddy used to say she played in her sleep. She rose, went downstairs, and played, then returned to bed and denied having done it.
"It wasn't me. Arthur Madison Atwell," she would tell him. She always pronounced his entire name when she wanted to stress something or when he made her angry.
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