Spirit Eyes

by Lynn Hones

  “The thing is…” She took her daughter’s hand and pulled her close. “I have to tell your daddy. You know how we were trying to keep it secret from him? Well, I don’t like that. We should always be honest, and it’s wrong to not tell him.”

  “Who’s going to help? What’s their name?”

  “He’s a very nice man named Al. He thinks the opposite of Daddy. Instead of ignoring them, he thinks we should say, Hey, we know you’re real. Then they’ll say, okay, and leave. Now, what you told me about the little girl is…” She wondered how to finish. “Pearl, what you described to me earlier today is something that happened a long time ago to many, many families. It was during World War II and was one of the worst times in history. I’m going to email Al and let him know all about this little girl you told me about, okay?”

  “Yeah, that’s okay, Mom. But be sure to tell him that she was really super-duper nice. I hope she can be my new friend, cuz I don’t have any more at school.”

  She scooped her close. “Sweetie, I know she was nice to you, but she can’t be your friend. It’s not normal.” She bit her tongue. She didn’t want to use that word, Normal, around Pearl. Frankly, she had no idea herself what normal was anymore.

  “But the other kids at school hate me. I don’t have one friend left.”

  “Honey, when people don’t understand something or someone, it frightens them. One person tells them to hate that person, and the rest follow because they want to be part of the crowd.”

  “Mom, will I die? Will they put me in a shower without water, only gas?”

  Damn this. Damn it. Why is this happening to my baby?

  “Never! Never, ever would that happen you.”

  “Okay. Good.” She snuggled into her mother. “Mommy you keep getting hotter and hotter every time I hug you.”

  Dear Al,

  Pearl met a new person today. She said her name is Elise. She described a child with long, blonde braids. This sounds like a girl she saw at our summer cottage, but she said they are two different kids. I’m not so sure. What do you think? How should I handle this?”

  Ruth,

  From my understanding, this girl is certainly the same person. It seems to me that she may be tricking your daughter. Can you ask if they’ve been studying the Holocaust at school? Or, perhaps she saw a television show about it. The reason I ask is not to say that Pearl is making this girl up, but that the girl may be playing off her sympathies. No matter how nice these ghosts seem to Pearl, she must always remember they can lie and pretend to be someone they are not. In the meantime, keep the faith. I am here for you. Keep writing me daily and I will do what I can.

  Al

  Ruth tossed and turned. Hopeless in her attempt at sleep, she sprawled out and stared at the ceiling. Something, some type of anxiety, refused to allow her to relax. The feeling grew stronger with each passing minute and it put her in mind of women she’d seen in labor—anxious, unable to sit, pacing, and knowing that the worst was yet to come.

  She pondered all Pearl had experienced and practically knocked Paul off the bed as she threw off the covers, sat and swung her feet onto the cold, hardwood floor.

  “Ruth?” Paul turned to face her.

  “What?”

  “Something wrong?”

  “Yeah—I mean no…I don’t know.”

  “Okay, well, that’s clear enough, he said. “Do you want me to leave so you can turn the light on and read?”

  “No, I’ll leave,” she said apologetically. “You go back to sleep. I’m going to go watch some television. I think that’ll help me unwind.”

  She gathered a pillow and blanket and headed downstairs.

  On the screen, glowing brightly when she turned on the television, a pregnant teen squealed about how her boyfriend left her and Ruth attempted to change the channel, but for some reason couldn’t get the remote to work. She put it down and listened to the incessant whining.

  She blinked hard when the picture on the screen brightened. Damn. The television is going on the fritz. The channels started to change, flipping quickly from one station to another. What the hell? It stopped on The History Channel. A show about the Holocaust came on showing Nazis marching down the street. The rallying cries of Heil Hitler reverberated off the walls. She picked up the remote and shook it. The volume went higher and she pushed the button to no avail.

  Rising, she went to the television and manually lowered the volume. She turned and at that moment caught, out of the corner of her eye, someone peak their head out from behind the sofa on the other side of the room.

  “Pearl?”

  No answer.

  After a moment of hesitation, she called out again.

  “Lotus?”

  Again, no answer.

  “Puddles?”

  She took a baby step toward the sofa, thinking she’d simply imagined it. She stopped and stared. The house was dead silent. She waited to hear any noise, breathing…anything. She took another baby step and stopped.

  Her eyes had to be fooling her as she witnessed a finger, then two, then an entire hand clutch the back of the couch. This hand didn’t belong to anyone in her family. The hand, white as snow, seemed to be searching for something. It moved along the top edge of the couch. It was a woman’s hand and it grabbed the back of a cushion. Without hesitation, a figure pulled up to full height and Ruth inhaled.

  “Dear God.” Her entire body quivered as the steely eyes of a female phantom in a Nazi uniform bore into hers.

  “Good evening, Fraulein.” The voice carried an edge of fake sincerity. “I’m keeping you awake, I see.”

  Ruth couldn’t make out a face. It was too blurry. Everything was blurry.

  A voice in her head told her to flee, but like a caterpillar on ice, she could only move an inch at a time. From her tingling scalp to her toes, fear gripped her.

  “I’m only going to tell you this once, then I will expect your complete cooperation.” With wrathful impatience, the specter hit a whip into the palm of her hand. The air around Ruth felt frozen. She snatched a jerky breath, but couldn’t speak.

  The phantom recited her litany of demands. “I need you to gather some documents in this house. They are very important and must not get into the wrong hands. You see, if they get into the wrong hands, it will make me very unhappy. If this happens, I will not be responsible for your family’s safety. It may not seem a big deal, or something to be concerned about, but it is to me.”

  She started to laugh. Not any laugh, though—this laugh, sinister, dug into Ruth’s very bones.

  “You are to say nothing to anybody. Do you understand?”

  Ruth could not answer.

  “Do you understand?” it screamed again.

  Ruth simply nodded.

  “Do it!”

  It felt as if ice water coursed through her veins and when it hit her brain, she grew woozy. This isn’t happening. It’s a nightmare…

  She felt herself falling down a long, dark hole until she landed on ground covered entirely in mud. She was on her knees when a woman wearing a dark uniform and dirty boots grabbed her upper arm and yanked her roughly to her feet.

  “Stehen Sie, Sie schmutziges Schwein auf—Get up, you filthy pig.” She hit her in the head with the handle of the whip she carried.

  Shocked, Ruth searched around her. Everything was gray. Gray uniforms, gray skies, gray, ashen faces painted with the fear she felt. She was completely alone in the mass of humanity she was moving within.

  A man sidled up beside her, his face drawn and thin. “Do whatever they tell you. Do it quickly and you won’t get hit. Look healthy, look alive, left means death.” With those words he was gone.

  As the people moved slowly, they were making their way to a uniformed figure. In the confusion, Ruth saw that this man also held a whip, but pointed it to the left or the right. The person standing in front of him followed the direction indicated.

  Cries cut the air with piercing panic. Children clung to their mother’s an
d father’s hands, searching for an answer to this turmoil. Many faces were blurred, hard to see. It took forever for her to reach this point and when she did, there was what appeared to be a family in front of her. The parents were dressed in fine coats and hats. The others, their older children, perhaps, were also dressed in expensive outfits. When their turn came, they tried to reason with this man. They wanted to stay together. This caused only a dire anger to wash over one of the guards standing nearby. He reached out and grabbed the father by the arm and threw him to the ground. When the mother went to help him up, he kicked her down with him. “Schund!—Garbage.”

  Ruth’s heart broke and she wanted to scream out, Stop. What are you doing? They are old and weak. Why are treating them like this? But she didn’t have the courage.

  Ruth was pushed forward. The old man and woman reached out for her. “Z nami kochanie—Come with us, darling.”

  They were going left. Ruth remembered what the man said, left meant death and she wasn’t ready to die.

  “I don’t know you!” she screamed out.

  If this couple knew left meant death, they would never want her to go with them. A young woman, a little older than her, ran to the couple and the guard screamed, “Sie möchten mit ihnen gehen, dann gehen—You want to go with them, then go.”

  He kicked her and the three of them stood and huddled off together to an unknown fate. A young man and two women in front of her were directed right as she was, much to her relief. They watched with her as the older couple and the young woman walked toward a large building, smokestacks fuming.

  She’d never felt such anguish. As she stumbled away, it felt as if her heart were being ripped out of her chest. She didn’t realize it was humanly possible to suffer such degradation and horror, and live.

  “Mom.” Lotus stood over her. “Mom, are you okay? Should I call nine-one-one?”

  The pounding in her head subsided and she gazed about. She pulled herself up on her elbows. “Where am I?”

  “You’re in the living room, I couldn’t tell if you fell asleep like this or you fainted.”

  Ruth remembered the woman and looked toward the sofa. Angling her head to rub the back of her neck, she answered meekly. “No…no I’m fine. I think I fainted, but I’m fine.”

  Lotus, concern etching her face, took a step closer and knelt. “Why did you faint?”

  “I’m just tired, honey.” She sat and held her head in her hands.

  “You’ve been sick and tired for so long now, I don’t remember you any other way.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Ruth admitted.

  Lotus hovered over her mother protectively.

  “Just give me a minute, okay?” Ruth said. “I don’t feel well. I need a minute to…” she began to cry.

  “Mama, what’s wrong?”

  Between sobs, Ruth managed to say, “I had a terrible dream, is all. I can still feel it, ya know? The feeling of that place.” She gazed at her daughter. “I’ll be fine.”

  “It keeps on getting worse,” Lotus said. “It feels as if nothing will ever be the same again.”

  “No. That’s not true.” With her red, tired eyes, Ruth looked up at her oldest daughter. “I’m trying to find a solution to all of this.”

  “It started when Pearl first saw the people.”

  “I guess it did. You’re right.” Ruth held her hand out and Lotus stood, grabbed hold of it and pulled her up.

  “You and dad have been fighting a lot, too.”

  Ugly guilt, something she’d become dangerously accustomed to, etched her words. “I’m so sorry, Lotus. You’ve been overlooked during all of this.”

  “No, well…yeah, kinda. I just want Pearl to be okay.”

  “‘Cuz you love her,” Ruth said with a sad smile. She wrapped her arm around Lotus’ neck.

  Lotus grinned. “Yeah, something like that, I guess.”

  Pearl walked into the room and they turned toward her.

  “Well, speak of the devil,” Ruth declared.

  “What?” Pearl rubbed her eyes and yawned.

  “Nothing.” She let go of Lotus, sat gingerly on the couch, and patted the empty seat next to her. “Come on. Sit with mama.”

  Pearl went to her and sat, instead, on her mother’s lap and Lotus sat beside her, her head on her mother’s shoulder.

  “I’m glad it’s Pearl and not me who sees these things.” Lotus shook, it seemed involuntarily. “I’d be scared to death.”

  “That’s ‘cuz you don’t have spirit eyes.” Puddles came up and put his head on Ruth’s knee.

  “What?”

  “Mommy saw a psychic before she adopted me. She said I would have spirit eyes. The lady told Mommy that I have all my ancestors around me all the time to protect me and that makes me not afraid. Right, Mommy?”

  “Absolutely. That’s what she said.” Ruth pet Puddles between the ears.

  “How come Daddy doesn’t believe Pearl?” Lotus asked.

  “It’s not that he doesn’t believe, honey, he’s simply, well—he’s more analytical.”

  “What’s that?” Pearl asked, her button nose scrunched up.

  “It’s a way of saying if he can’t see it, or smell it, or feel it, it doesn’t exist.”

  “I think I’d really hate to be anna little kal.” Pearl snuggled into her mother.

  “Not me,” Lotus said. “I like things that are easy to figure out.” Her eyes flooded with a light rarely seen when addressing her bothersome younger sister. “I want to tell you that even though I don’t know if you’re seeing ghosts, I really do love you.”

  Pearl looked at her sister and smiled. “Thank you, Lotus. I love you, too.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Hi, Laura.”

  “Hey, hon. How ya doin’?”

  “I’m doing okay, I guess.” She put the phone to her other ear and stirred a pot of sauce on the stove. It was one of the few times she felt strong enough to make her family a home-cooked meal.

  Her friend, aware of the happenings in their home, questioned Ruth. “Is that investigator helping?”

  “Yeah, you know what…he is. I don’t feel so alone anymore. Are you sure you’re not the one who had him send that email?”

  “For the hundredth time, it wasn’t me and I’m sorry that Sheila the Shaman, as you call her, didn’t want to get involved. She remembered you, but…”

  “The way she ran out that day,” Ruth retorted, “I think she thought of me as some sort of phantom myself.”

  “Ain’t that the truth?” Laura seemed genuinely concerned, as if she were responsible somehow for all of this.

  Ruth sat at her kitchen table and rubbed off a spot of oatmeal that had dried on Pearl’s placemat. “I think it must have been a receptionist at one of the doctors we took Pearl to. She was listening in, I could tell. I bet she’s the mysterious friend who suggested he email me. Anyway, Al’s great. He explains what I should or shouldn’t do with Pearl. The best part is we communicate via email, so…I don’t have to involve Paul.”

  “Did you at least meet the guy?”

  “Yeah, I did. He’s not what I thought. He’s around sixty or so, gray hair, very distinguished. He’s a professor at a local university, so he doesn’t want it spread around that he’s into ghosts.”

  “I can understand that, for sure.” Laura said.

  “I don’t know if I should tell you this or not because frankly, if you told me this story, I’d question your sanity.”

  “What?”

  She accepted the ramifications of allowing this piece of her life out but, she needed to tell someone so, she’d just have to trust Laura to keep it quiet.

  “I saw someone.”

  “Who?”

  “A woman in my living room.”

  “Are you saying you saw a, um—ghost?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  She explained the entire incident to her, and as she spoke, tears trickled down her cheeks.

  “What are
you going to do?”

  Ruth blinked and found herself once again grinding her teeth, a nervous habit she’d acquired during all of this. “Pray.”

  “Is it helping?”

  “Yes—and no. I don’t feel as anxious as I did at first. That’s because of Al, too, but I don’t know. I’m ready to take this head on.”

  Laura let out a deep breath on the other end of the phone. “Well, as you know, I’m guilty as hell about all of this.”

  “Laura, I’ve told you a thousand times, you had nothing to do with it.”

  “I’m the one who had the stupid psychic party,” she said. “Remember?”

  “This would have happened anyway.”

  “Thanks,” Laura said, a hint of relief in her voice.

  “Another thing,” Ruth said, “I hope you don’t feel, when I say that Al is my only help, that I mean you aren’t. You have been there with me, believed me and haven’t had me or my daughter committed, so—well, thanks.”

  Ruth stirred the sauce again and went to the computer in the home office. She went online to read the article about the Eberstark family and found it fascinating. Mrs. Eberstark, haunted by the war years in Germany, had fled to America at the young age of twenty-two. Only in the United States for a few months, she met her husband, Daniel Eberstark, the self-made millionaire.

  Their marriage made the society papers and from then on, the little waif who escaped the horrors of war, became a woman of great philanthropy and culture. It made a wonderful rags to riches story, and of course the public ate it up.

  The pictures of her were beautiful. The picture, as Miss Berlin, showed a little girl kneeling in front of her and handing her a large bouquet of flowers. The thing was, the girl wore an outfit from The League of German Girls, the Nazi equivalent of the Girl Scouts. This picture would have been taken in the early years of the Third Reich. At this time, quite a few people thought of Hitler as the savior of Germany. They hadn’t wised up yet to what a vile man he really was. According to the story, it was after this that her life changed for the worse. They also showed her life in America and her family as they grew. Wow, what a lady. She really did have quite the life. Now, her family was into politics, and the dynasty simply continued to grow.