“Isn’t everything wonderful?” said Zelma. “Oh, I almost forgot the matches to light the candles.” She left the dining room and went into the kitchen.
Miss Satterfield quickly approached Ethan and whispered, “If you say anything out of the way, I’ll make sure you are fired. Just go along with it.”
Ethan swallowed and tried to compose himself.
Miss Green returned with the matches and lit the candles on the cake. There were ten candles. It’s Benjamin’s tenth birthday today. Would you do the honors and blow out the candles, Ethan?
Ethan looked over at Miss Satterfield, who was looking at him sternly, as though daring him to do the wrong thing, and quickly blew out the candles.
The two women started singing Happy Birthday, and Ethan reluctantly joined in. He didn’t say a lot as he ate his piece of cake. This place was crazier than he thought it was going to be. He sure didn’t know anybody this nuts over in eastern Kentucky.
Chapter 3
“I want to go back home,” Ethan said to his mom that night while they were eating supper. He stirred macaroni and cheese around with his fork and took a small bite.
“This is home now,” said Sandy. “There’s nowhere to go back to.”
“Yeah there is. It’s all still there. I feel closer to dad back home. I hate it here.”
“It’s just going to take some time, Honey. I know it’s hard. I’m doing the best I can.”
“Moving here has made it all worse.”
“I had to take the sewing factory job so we can keep the bills paid and have some food to eat. Dairy Hut wasn’t going to keep the lights on.”
“I’d rather be poor back home than to be rich here. It’s not like you’re making millions at the sewing factory. Looks like you could get a job making that much at home. I’ll work somewhere too and help pay the bills.”
“You’re just going to have to find a way to get used to it over here. Besides needing the job, my sister lives here. She’s the only family I got left.”
“What about Mamaw and Pap, and my aunts, uncles, and cousins?”
“I know. We’ll go visit them when we can, but I was talking about my side of the family. Betty is all I got left on my side.”
“I’ll never get used to it here. That place I’m working at is a damned spook house. Got something weird going on down in the cellar, probably torturing the last boy who worked for them, and today we had a birthday party for a kid who must have died a hundred years ago. I had to sing Happy Birthday to a creepy old photo of him. I couldn’t figure out if I was at a séance or a birthday party.”
“You need to watch your language. Just because your daddy’s gone don’t mean you can cuss and carry on.”
Ethan knocked his plate onto the floor and ran into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. “Don’t say he’s gone!” he yelled. “He’ll never be gone.” He laid facedown on the bed and cried in his pillow.
Sandy quietly came into the room and sat on Ethan’s bed. “I’m famous for saying the wrong things,” she said. “I didn’t mean he was gone.”
“It’s too late to take it back,” said Ethan turning his head towards the wall. “You’ve done said it.”
“No, it’s not too late,” she said rubbing his hair. “It’s not too late because what I said wasn’t true. Your dad will never be gone as long as we remember him and carry his spirit in our hearts. You’ve picked up a lot of his personality, even got a little bit of his temper.” She patted his shoulder.
Ethan grinned a little and said, “He could get mad sometimes, but he always got over it quick, like nothing had ever happened. I kind of wish I looked more like him; that way maybe I’d feel a little bit closer to him. Everybody always says I look like you.”
“Oh, forbid that you should look like me.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know. I’m just kidding.”
“He turned his head towards her and said, “Thanks, Mom. I’m sorry I acted like that. It’s just been difficult.”
“I know, Honey. I know.”
Drying his eyes with his shirt, Ethan walked back into the kitchen, picked up his plate, cleared the table, and washed the dishes. He went to bed early that night, reading a comic book until he drifted off to sleep.
There was a van parked in the driveway when he arrived at Miss Green’s the next morning. He heard a vacuum cleaner running as he walked into the kitchen. Miss Satterfield was sitting at the small table sorting through bills. Above the noise of the vacuum cleaner, Ethan could hear classical piano music. He followed the music to a parlor at the front of the house, situated directly across from the parlor where he had so anxiously awaited the birthday party the previous morning. He found Zelma Green playing an antique rectangular piano that had large claw feet.
Zelma stopped playing when she saw Ethan enter the room. “Please slide those doors shut and have a seat,” she said. Ethan did as she asked. “I always play the piano on Wednesdays while they are cleaning the house, can’t stand the racket of the vacuum. Piano music always soothes my nerves, although these old fingers miss a note now and then. Normally I keep the doors closed while I play, but today I left them open, hoping the sound of the music would lure you here, and it did just that. You must have an appreciation for fine music, even if you don’t realize it. Do you recognize that piece?”
“What piece, Ma’am?”
“The song I was playing.”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “It sounds a little familiar.”
The noisy vacuum cleaner had stopped.
“‘Moonlight Sonata,’ she said, resuming playing it slowly. “It’s one of Beethoven’s most popular compositions, probably better suited for playing at night. A very deep and thoughtful song, it is. I taught Benjamin to play it when he was eight years old. This was his piano, you know. It had been in my family’s home for many years. I had it tuned and gave it to him for a gift. It had been at Flintridge, my old family home in the country, since before the Brothers’ War, as I have always called it. I come from a long line of musically talented people. Though none have ever been so talented as little Benjamin. He had the slender fingers of a master pianist.
“It’s a beautiful song,” said Ethan. “It does make me think of moonlight.”
“You might enjoy this song as well,” she said, her boney fingers dancing softly across the piano keys. “It’s Bach’s ‘Air on a G String.’ It was one of Benjamin’s favorites, such a soothing melody. Of course, I don’t do it justice.”
“I can see why he liked it,” said Ethan.
“Benjamin would have loved meeting you,” she said, “You’re a little older than he was, but I think you would have made great friends. If only time were a serene lake and not a raging river.”
“What happened to Benjamin?” asked Ethan, immediately regretting his question. Miss Green continued to play the piano without answering. “I’m sorry, Ma’am. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, I’m glad you did,” she said. “Now listen to this piece. It’s Chopin’s ‘Nocturne Opus Nine, Number Two.’ Chopin composed many nocturnes, but this is his most popular and my favorite.” She began to play the song.
“Yes,” she continued, above the sound of the music. “I’m glad you asked. Most people think anything unpleasant should be locked away and never spoken of. You can lock a lion up in a room, if you want to, but you’ll still hear it growling and clawing to get out. Benjamin was my first and only child. I was beginning to think I wouldn’t be able to have any children before he came along. He was exceptionally intelligent of mind but weak of body. He had a bad heart and couldn’t play like other children. The doctors told me I wouldn’t have him long, though he wasn’t sure how long, so I treated every day with him as something special. Every birthday was a milestone.
“His tenth birthday was the most special one. I threw him a big party and gave him lots of presents, the best present being this very piano. He was extremely happy that day. I let him
play his piano until well after dark. He played by lantern light. We didn’t have electricity at the time. They had it in town, but we didn’t get electricity here until years later.
“This is the fanciest piano I’ve ever saw,” said Ethan. “I really like it. I can see why Benjamin would have been excited to get it.”
“Yes, it is quite a masterpiece.” She stopped playing the piano. “It’s carved from solid rosewood, and the keys are real ivory.”
“It goes great with this house. You’ve got the neatest house I’ve ever been in.”
“Why thank you,” she said, smiling. “I’m glad that you appreciate the beauty of things.”
“You were about to tell me what happened to Benjamin. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You are such a polite and charming boy. Most boys wouldn’t give two chicken feathers to hear about a dusty old woman’s past.”
“I love hearing about the past. My dad used to always tell me stories about the way things used to be.”
“Wonderful,” she said. “I am so delighted to hear you say that.
“Now let me see; where was I? Oh yes, later that night, the night of Benjamin’s tenth birthday, I awoke startled from a sound sleep. I had such a strange feeling as I rubbed my eyes and sat up on the side of the bed. There was something different in the air, something wonderful. The difference wasn’t something I could ever explain properly, but the air in the room felt crisp, much like the air of a beautiful day in autumn, though so much more. I looked about the room and saw a white radiant light pouring into the room from the partially opened door to the hallway. For a moment I thought I had died and the light was beckoning me to follow a path to Heaven. So many lonely days since I have wished that the light really had been intended for me.
“I got out of bed, compelled by a frightened curiosity, and walked out into the hall. Back then my bedroom was on the second floor, before I got too old to run up and down the stairs. Anyway, I could immediately see that the light was coming from Benjamin’s room. Walking slowly towards the magnificent rays, my knees shaking as though I would collapse at any moment, I began to have an incredible sense of peace, a peace like I had never known before; all the fear that I had initially felt had left me. Oh, to this day it makes my eyes water and my hair stand on end to tell it.
“When I reached Benjamin’s room and peeked around the doorway, I saw a sight that will never in my mind diminish: standing next to Benjamin’s bed was an angel. The sight of it takes my breath away as I think of it now. I couldn’t tell if the divine being was male or female, only that it was exquisite beyond description, somehow producing its own radiant light from within. It was touching Benjamin’s forehead, comforting him, much the way a mother would her sick child. I could neither speak nor move.
“Suddenly, the angel looked up at me, as though startled, and disappeared. Strangely I felt embarrassed, as though I had witnessed something not meant for mortal eyes. The room went dark, pitch dark, and I could see nothing for a few moments, blinded by the dazzling rays of the heavenly spirit. When I finally managed to find a lantern and light it, my hand shaking tremendously, I found that Benjamin had passed away. He had such a soft happy look on his sleeping face, like he knew that all the sickness and every care had been lifted from him forever. Having seen the angel with my own eyes, I knew with an absolute certainty that he had gone to Heaven. To this day I have yet to cry for him, knowing he is in a better place. An absence of laugher, an empty chair at the table, a bedroom all too neat with a bed forever made: these are the things that I have shed many tears over.”
“That’s incredible,” said Ethan, when he was finally able to speak. The extraordinary story had rendered him quiet and reflective for a moment.
“Yes, incredible but true.”
“So why do you still have birthday parties for him?”
She started slowly playing the piano again and said, “I have a birthday party for him every year, not because I’m a crazy old woman, as many people believe, but because I don’t want him to look down from Heaven and ever feel like he’s been forgotten. It’s sort of a candle I keep burning until we’re reunited.”
Tears welled up in Ethan’s eyes.
Zelma stood up from the piano, walked over to him and lifted his chin up. “You too have lost someone you love.”
“How did you know that? Is it because you are psychic?”
“I see that my terrible kept secret is out. Yes, I do have a sixth sense, but sometimes a sixth sense works closely together with common sense. I knew your father wasn’t around, from the way your mother talked. The sadness in your eyes told me that you had lost someone important in your life. Sometimes I see things in people eyes; sometimes I see things when I touch someone or something; sometimes I see things in dreams. I often don’t know for sure what it is that I’m seeing, only that it’s good or bad, almost never in the middle.”
“My dad died in a mining accident,” he said, looking down at a large oriental rug.
He looked up at Zelma suddenly, a thought occurring to him, and asked, “Do you know anything about dreams?”
“Perhaps a little bit.”
“I keep having this reoccurring dream; I had it again the other night.”
“Please describe it to me. I would love to hear it.”
“I dream that I’m in bed asleep, when I hear my dad’s voice telling me it’s time to get up. He tells me that everything is okay and that he is still alive. I look up and see my dad standing next to me. I smile and sit up on the side of the bed, feeling relieved and happy that his death had all been a bad dream. ‘Let’s go shoot some baskets,’ he says. The next thing I know, we’re in front of the garage. We had a basketball goal above the garage door at that house. In the dream we take turns shooting hoops, playing Horse, when at one point I shoot the ball but it bounces off the rim. It bounces and hits my dad in the face. I hear a scream from somewhere in the distance, a woman’s scream, and my dad’s face falls off, like he’d been wearing a mask. ‘Look what you’ve done!’ he yells at me. But his voice sounds strange, unfamiliar. I look at his real face, the mask now gone, and I see a stranger. The stranger is very pale with no expression, almost looks like an alien. At this point I always wake up terrified, my heart pounding.”
“That is quite a frightening dream.”
“Do you have any idea what it might mean?”
“That I can’t tell you for certain,” said Zelma. “I have my ideas, but my ideas might only distract you from finding the true meaning. I do know that a dream like that must mean something. You have to search your life, observe the people and things around you to eventually get to the bottom of it.”
Ethan was disappointed with her answer. He wanted to hear a clear-cut meaning.
“I know that’s not the answer you wanted from me,” she continued, “but as with each individual, there will be many puzzles in life that only you will hold all the pieces needed to solve, if that makes any sense.”
“I think it does,” said Ethan. “Thanks for listening to me. I don’t have many friends around here, none really.”
“You know,” said Zelma, putting her hand on his shoulder, “I think you and I are going to be friends.” But before Ethan could respond, she said, “I believe Clara has an errand for you to run. She should be in the kitchen. Just leave these doors open as you go out. It sounds like they’re done with the vacuuming.”
Ethan stood and started towards the hallway when Zelma spoke again. “Ethan,” she said. He stopped and turned around. “Ethan,” she repeated, “please don’t feel intimidated by Clara. I know she can be very stern and harsh, but she means well. I want you to enjoy working here. She can’t fire you without my approval, and judging by my impression of you, I’ll never approve. Just be respectful and overlook her sternness, and everything will be okay.”
“Thank you,” said Ethan, feeling much better about his prospects for keeping his summer job. “I’ll do my best to make both of you happy with my work
while I’m here.”
With that he left the room and walked down the hallway towards the kitchen. He passed a woman and a boy, apparently the woman’s son. The boy appeared to be about Ethan’s age. Skinnier and a little shorter than Ethan, he had sandy brown hair that nearly touched his shoulders, and he looked like he had spent a lot of time out in the sun. The woman was skinny and looked to be in her late thirties, though she had the worn look of someone who lived off of coffee and cigarettes and may have been younger. The two were busily dusting the furniture in the hallway. Ethan nodded a hello to the boy, who looked up from his work for a moment and returned a quick nod.
“I need you to run these bills to town,” said Clara, as Ethan entered the kitchen. “Take this one to Square Deal Lumber Company, this one to the utility office, and the rest to the post office. And don’t get any ideas about opening them up and getting bank account information. I know every dime Zelma has in the bank. If anything ever comes up missing, I’ll know where to look first.”
“Oh, I forgot my ski mask at home, so you don’t have to worry about me robbing the bank today,” he said and laughed. His laugh froze and he nervously cleared his throat when he saw the scowl on her face.
As he rode his bike to town, he thought about Miss Green. Sure she was weird, maybe even a little spooky, but she didn’t seem to be too bad. Actually, he was starting to really like her. It was that Miss Satterfield that he had to watch out for. He’d try to stay out of her way as much as possible. At least Miss Green was acting like she’d stick up for him if Miss Satterfield tried to get him fired. That thought put him in a better mood, and he smiled to himself. He’d have new shoes and clothes in no time.
He waited in line behind two girls at Square Deal Lumber Company. One of the girls appeared to be about his age and the other appeared to be about three years older, maybe sixteen. The younger girl wore glasses and had long, straight brown hair. She was holding some books and looking at the floor. Ethan thought she might be pretty if she fixed up a little. The older girl appeared to be the polar opposite of the younger one. She was tanned and had a head full of bleached blond hair, beautiful by almost anyone’s standards. She was carrying on a lively conversation with the woman behind the counter.
A Million Doorways Page 3