Those items went into the spare bedroom. Everything else we put a price tag on. Uncle Jan said he didn’t care, but my aunt spent a day taking everything she wanted—the antique furniture that fit in her van, handmade afghans, antique Christmas ornaments. I was glad I had thought to hide Oma’s jewelry. It was mostly mine, anyway. Oma had given me the jewelry box that once.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I argued. “When Oma comes back from the Goat Children, she’ll want her stuff.” It felt right to say it, as though Oma would walk back through her door at any moment.
“Hush,” Mama snapped. “I feel like Oma’s coming back too, but denial isn’t going to help anything. She isn’t coming back. The Goat Children were just her fantasy.”
I gave the charm bracelet to Phebe. “Oma wanted you to have this.”
Phebe’s face lit up, and she never took it off.
Mama hosted an estate sale. We sat at a card table in the living room watching people flit through the house, except the unused bedroom with its door shut.
It broke my heart to see people pick through Oma’s trinkets, but I sat beside my mother throughout, knowing it hurt Mama just as much as it hurt me. Only Phebe seemed unaffected, grinning at the charm bracelet.
The sale lasted a weekend, and afterwards, we bundled everything into brown paper bags to take to the Salvation Army.
The house seemed hollow and empty, more so without Oma’s presence. Every night, I cried beside Phebe, Mama on the other side of my sister.
As we scrubbed the house to put it on the market, I asked for the hundredth time, “Why can’t we move to New Winchester?”
“You know your father works in the city,” Mama said. “Moving back here just wouldn’t be feasible.”
“But I don’t want to leave. I love it here.”
“Your father—”
“He isn’t my father!” I threw my wet rag at the wall and it hit with a sploosh. “Oma told me all about that.”
Color drained from Mama’s face.
“When were you going to tell me?” I ranted. “When I was an old maid? When I got married? When? He isn’t my father. He’s my uncle, and you’re a slut!”
“Keziah,” Mama gasped as I whirled away.
I almost crashed into Phebe as she entered the living room with a fresh bucket of hot water.
“Kez?” Phebe called.
I marched into the backyard, slamming the door behind me. I ran down the hill to my old swing set. Cold air nipped through my cardigan, one Oma had knitted in her youth. Snow sprinkled the wooden seat, but I sat on it anyway.
Oma wasn’t really gone. She couldn’t have fallen over the railing into the lake. The Goat Children had taken her.
The backdoor opened, and I looked up. Phebe, bundled in her winter coat, wandered down the hill. I leaned over to lift my sister onto my lap. Phebe clutched the chains, and we sat on the swing for a moment without speaking.
“I love you,” I whispered. “You know that, right?”
Phebe nodded against my shoulder. “I know. I love you, too.”
“Did you hear what I said to Mommy?”
“No.” Phebe paused. “I just heard yelling.”
I knew my sister wanted me to elaborate, but for now, I wanted the little girl to remain my sister, not a half-sister.
“What are Goat Children?” Phebe asked.
I smiled against her head. “They’re warriors, and Oma’s one of them.”
I mentioned the enemies, otherworldly creatures that used their minds to force people to act against freewill, and to do whatever the enemy wanted. Like the Goat Children, once they surrendered that life and traveled to Earth, they lost their powers. I thought of the mailman I’d caught in Oma’s house. Had he really been one of the enemies?
As late morning sunlight reflected off the snow, I told my sister all about the Goat Children.
****
“I’ll only say this once,” Mama said. “Your…Tom never wanted to be a father. I don’t think he even wanted to get married, but I pushed. I promised him an amazing life, and he went for it with me. He loved you, really, but he was never cut out to be a family man. He loved his church too much. He put that off for me. For us.”
“So he didn’t love us enough to stay,” I said.
My mother paused, which became answer enough. The same thought must have crossed her mind as well.
“Tom has always loved us, but he couldn’t hold us together as a family. When your uncle came into the picture, he took over Tom’s role. He became a father to you, then a friend to me, and it only seemed natural to…marry him.”
“Of course. It’s always natural to marry your brother-in-law,” I said sarcastically.
Mama pursed her lips. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Ask Tom about it if you want, but do not upset…my husband over this. He loves you.”
After that, Mama didn’t speak to me again. It gave me time to sit on the floor of Oma’s bedroom, on the smelly carpet my mother hadn’t vacuumed yet, and reread the Goat Children notebooks.
Bodies disappeared when they joined the ranks. That was why Oma hadn’t been found in the lake.
The first time Oma had joined, when she was a teenager, she had put on the bracelet from the Goat Children and announced she was ready. She had faced a mirror to do it, and they had spoken in her mind to tell her how she had to join.
The next day, she had climbed the tree in the yard and jumped. As she fell, she was transported and landed in their world.
I ran into the other bedroom for my purse and searched through the zippered pocket until I found the ring where I had put it during the packing. I slid it onto my finger. The metal chilled my skin. I took the mini-mirror from my purse and smiled into the glass. A fingerprint smudged the lower left corner.
Oma had written in one of the notebooks that the Goat Children made a difference, and that was why she loved being one of them.
It was time I made a difference in the world.
“I’m ready,” I told my reflection in the mirror. “I’d like to join the Goat Children.” I kissed the gemstone in the ring and waited, but nothing happened.
No otherworldly voice filled my mind. Oma didn’t appear in the mirror.
“I’m ready to become a Goat Child!” I kissed the ring again. Still, nothing happened. I scowled and put the mirror away, but I left the ring on.
I was stuck going back to New York City. I wouldn’t see Oma again.
****
The letter to Uncle Tom glared at me from the bathroom sink. I lifted my cell phone and punched the buttons, dialing the number I’d memorized off the Internet.
I leaned my head against the closed door and shut my eyes, each ring echoing through my mind. On the fourth, a man answered.
“Pastor de Forest speaking.”
Words caught in my throat and I coughed. “Uncle Tom?”
Soft voices sounded in his background. “Keziah, is that you? I’m sorry about your grandmother. I hope you got the flowers I se—”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me you’re my dad?” My voice emerged harsher than I’d intended. “I know, okay? Oma told me, and Mama agreed.”
“You spoke to your mom?”
I tried to find a similarity between his voice and mine, but he sounded too far away, too hollow.
“Why did you leave?” I covered my eyes with my hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He sucked in a breath.
“I’m your daughter.”
“You know I love you.” His voice trembled. “It was never a matter of that. I left because…”
“Because what, you didn’t like Mama, or you didn’t like having a family?”
“Your mom wanted me to get a different job, like be a banker or a store manager. I tried that kind of life, but I wasn’t happy, and whenever I came home, I would always take it out on you guys.” He sniffled.
He’s crying.
“I’m not proud of that. We should have waited longer befo
re getting married. Your mom and I had only known each other a few months before I proposed.”
“Then you left us?” The heat turned on in Oma’s house, blowing the toilet paper. The white squares waved at me like flags of truce.
“No.” His voice softened. “Your mother had a lawyer draw up the papers. She gave them to me when I came home one day. I’ve always loved your mother, but not the way your…not the way my brother does.”
“You almost called him my father.” I rubbed my cheek.
“He had the glamorous life she always wanted. She and I decided a divorce was best. They stayed in New Winchester and I moved on. When you were three, we decided it would be better if you knew me more as an uncle and had only one father. I’d been out of your life too long. You didn’t remember me more than phone calls and presents.”
“You guys shouldn’t have lied to me!” I slammed my fist into the floor.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He snuffled louder. “We never did it to hurt you. I’m here now, and you know. Come stay with me for a while, as long as you want. I’d love to have you here.”
I sucked in a breath. “Really?”
“I’ll send money for a ticket. Bus or train? Plane maybe?”
I’ll get to be with you, really get to know you. Escape from everything.
Escape didn’t solve problems.
“I’m sorry.” I scratched my nails across my cheeks, savoring the pain. “I can’t right now. Maybe later. I don’t want to run away from things.”
He blew his nose. “Call me anytime you want, Keziah. Ask me anything. I’ve always been here for you. I still am. That’ll never change.”
“Thanks. Bye.” I squeezed the cell phone, wishing I could break it. Sighing, I skimmed the speed-dial screen until I found the number I wanted. The other line rang only once before a young man answered.
“Hi, Domenick? Do you want to go out to dinner tonight?”
****
I waited at the front door, watching for his car to pull into the driveway. I hid on the stairs, letting him come to the door and knock, a privilege Oma hadn’t allowed.
Domenick took my hand, to guide me from the house. “You look amazing.”
“Despite the bags under my eyes?” I giggled so he’d know I’d meant it as a joke. I had changed my clothes twice before deciding on a gray sweater, black jeans, and silver boots.
“It’s your personality.” He took my arm to lead me off the porch. “It makes you shine.”
I laughed as I climbed into his car. “My personality. How cliché.”
“But sometimes cliché works.” Domenic winked. “I got you to laugh, too.” He plugged his iPod into the radio and selected a Blink 182 song.
“I haven’t heard this song in ages.” It changed to one of my favorites when Domenick pulled into the parking lot for Vighesso’s. He left the car running until the song ended, and as we sang along to it, I didn’t care how off-key I sounded.
We splashed through the slush puddles in the parking lot. When muck got on my boots, I didn’t care, and I laughed louder. Domenick grabbed my hands and twirled me while I threw my head back.
I tugged him inside, and within the doorway, I pressed my lips to his. He didn’t hesitate before he pushed me against the wall and kissed me harder. Maybe he could taste my racing heartbeat.
The door opened, and we broke apart, breathless, as a couple entered. They both smiled at us, and Domenick nodded back, but I remained dazed in his arms, savoring the strength of his grip. I rested my head against his shoulder before he drew me inside.
The waitress seated us at a booth and handed out menus.
“What would you and your girlfriend like to drink?” she asked Domenick.
Girlfriend. I couldn’t stop smiling. I could be a real girlfriend, not a one-night stand like what Michael wanted.
“I’ll have a Coke,” he said.
“Me, too.”
After she left, Domenick flipped through the menu. “I know you don’t eat meat, so I’ll avoid the chicken parmigana.”
“You don’t have to. No one ever does that. Just eat what you like.”
“I would like to avoid it for you.” He reached across the table to hold my hand, and my heart raced even more. When the waitress returned, he said, “I’ll take the spaghetti with plain tomato sauce.”
“Me too.” Spaghetti suddenly sounded delicious.
“Talk to me,” he said while we waited for our food. “You don’t have to say what your feelings are, but talk about something.”
“Okay.” I drew a deep breath. “Let me tell you about the Goat Children.”
He leaned forward to listen and nodded whenever I paused.
I finished with, “And I want to be one someday, just like Oma.”
“You’d make a great one.” He grinned.
After dinner, we strolled the mall, and he drove me home. He turned off the engine in my driveway and pulled me into his lap. We kissed and clawed at each other, and broke apart for breath. Sheltered within the glow of the streetlamp, we clung, and I savored his strength.
****
I lay on the bedroom carpet wrapped in a blanket, my head resting on a single pillow, while Mama wept in the living room.
“Can I do anything to help?” came Phebe’s gentle voice.
I squeezed my eyes shut. How long before Mama spoke to me again? I didn’t feel bad for yelling, though. It was wrong of her to keep something like that from me.
It came to me, like a whisper.
Jump off the roof, and we’ll catch you.
I sat up on my elbows to stare at the shadows on the wall. Outside, the light from the streetlamp cast odd images from the magnolia tree. A car drove by.
We’ll catch you….
“The Goat Children,” I whispered.
****
Different words haunted me in the morning. It’s my fault Oma’s gone. I shouldn’t have taken her to the party. Everyone had to think that when they looked at me. I saw it in their eyes. Uncle Tom probably thought it, too.
At the calling hours, I hadn’t been able to stand it when people asked what had happened as if they didn’t know.
She fell off a balcony.
She did? What balcony? How did that happen?
Keziah took her to a party. She went to talk to a friend, and Oma wandered off.
I’d been given one task—look after Oma, and I’d failed. Because of me, Oma was gone, and now I had to make things right. I had to go to Oma and take care of her. I had to go make a difference in the world.
“Hi.” My sister washed the window in the front door. “Wanna help me?”
I glanced at the ring on my finger and slipped the cosmetic mirror from my purse into my pocket.. “Sure.” I tore some paper towels off the roll on the floor before squirting them with cleanser. “I’ll work on the windows upstairs.”
“Okay,” Phebe said. “I’ll tell Mommy. She’s cleaning the tub.”
I kissed my sister’s forehead. “I love you, Phebe.”
“I love you, too,” When she scrubbed the window, the charms on her bracelet jingled together.
I wandered up the stairs. The cleaning fluid on the paper towels made my eyes sting.
Upstairs, I shut the door and crossed the room to the window I’d used to break in the day I’d almost had sex with Michael. I left the paper towels on the floor as I slid up the glass. The desk was gone, the upstairs empty, so it was easy to climb through using my arms and knees.
Standing on the sloping roof, I turned my head to stare at the backyards stretching before me. No one was out. It hadn’t snowed for three days, so the warm sun had melted everything on the roof. The tiles scraped against the soles of my combat boots.
I grabbed the upper roof and didn’t feel more than a pinprick as the rough tiles tore through my skin.
It’s my fault Oma’s gone.
I slid one knee onto the roof and rolled to get both legs up. I stood, noting a tear in the knee of my gree
n cargo pants. Something red shimmered on my skin. Blood. My palms bled. Somehow, I didn’t care.
I walked across the roof to the edge. It sloped more than the other roof, so I moved with my arms held out. When my toes touched the end, I let my arms down.
“Hey!” A mailman waved from the sidewalk. “Hey. What are you doing? Get back!”
I kissed the ring. “I’m ready.” Something, like a hand, touched my arm.
“Keziah,” Mama called from inside the house. Faint, yet real.
“Hey,” the mailman yelled again. “Get down from there. Help, somebody help. I think she’s going to jump!”
“I’m ready.” My voice echoed through my mind, and the invisible hand on my arm slid down to grasp my wrist.
I’m so sorry, Oma, but don’t worry. I’m going to make everything all better.
“Stop it,” the mailman screamed.
“Keziah!” Mama’s voice came from outdoors.
Still smiling, I closed my eyes and stepped off the roof.
****
I am seventeen years old. Oma is diagnosed with dementia. She cannot live alone anymore, so Uncle Jan wants to put her in a nursing home. I know Oma would hate that, so I volunteer to stay with her. She took care of me when I was little, so now it is my turn to take care of her.
Epilogue
The ground I lay sprawled upon was soft and startlingly white. It didn’t look solid, more like threads of cotton bound together. I lifted to my knees, shaking my head to move the hair away from my eyes.
The skin on my palm was whole, unmarked. I sat on my heels and looked around, lips parting. Golden rays shimmered through the sky. Young women stood around me, all in their teens.
Virgins. The thought flickered through my mind as I stared at them. Each young woman wore a dark blue gown fastened at her left shoulder with a golden brooch shaped like the sun. The long skirts brushed the cotton-like floor, hiding their feet.
Behind them, I noticed a horse. No, not a horse. It was a Pegasus, and there were many more than one. The velvety coats on the animals were as white as white could be, and the horns jutting from their foreheads flashed with the colors of the rainbow.
The Goat Children Page 24