“Not much,” Ruby admitted, gently applying a damp sponge to the mushrooms. “I gathered it wasn’t a very happy childhood, but then again, so many childhoods aren’t. I do know he was closer to his father than to his mother, though that isn’t saying much. Steve left home at seventeen and in his own words he never looked back.” Ruby shook her head. “Not even when his father was dying. So who knows what went on in that household? I wouldn’t want to point the finger of blame, not at this distance and being sure of so little.”
“No,” Frieda said. “Of course not.” But Frieda could point a finger of blame at herself. Her behavior regarding Jack was fueling at least part of Bella’s current unhappiness. A parent owed a child so much. Care. Protection. Warmth.
“Frieda?”
“Yes?”
“Are you sure there’s nothing else you want to tell me?”
Frieda managed a smile; at least she hoped it hadn’t come out as a grimace. “No,” she said, rising from her seat. “There’s nothing else. I’ll make a salad, okay?”
Chapter 38
Ruby yawned. I look awful, she thought, staring at her face in the mirror over the vintage 1940s vanity table she had found while out scouting with Phil a few years back. It had been a bit of a mad purchase; she had never been the sort to fuss over her appearance and besides ensuring that she was neat and clean she had no use for dabbling with blush and eyeliner. Still, Ruby was glad she had splurged—even when the vanity’s mirror reflected back to her a face worn with lack of sleep.
In the past Ariel’s nightly appearances had never caused disruption to Ruby’s rest, but for some reason last night her appearance had. Ruby had been unable to fall back to sleep until nearly five o’clock.
“Cucumber slices,” Ruby murmured. “I need two cold cucumber slices to get rid of these bags under my eyes.” With a sigh she got up from the vanity table and went to her closet for a light linen blouse and a fresh pair of chinos. And as Ruby dressed she thought about the first time Ariel had come to her, a mere month after the accident. To say that she had been disconcerted was an understatement, but the following morning, with the sun shining into the room and the sleep wiped from her eyes, Ruby had wondered if Ariel’s appearance had really been just a product of her own imaginative desire. Maybe, she thought, she had willed the vision of Ariel into being. The human brain was capable of all sorts of trickery and feats of self-deception.
So shortly after breakfast she had gone online in the hopes of finding information that might help her to understand what had happened in the middle of the night. And she learned that she had experienced a popularly recognized phenomenon known as After Death Contact. The message the departed person brought to his loved ones was always the same: Life and love are eternal. “Don’t grieve for me,” he might say. “Please let me go; I’m all right.” Ruby remembered what Ariel had told her. “I’m happy, Grandma. Dad and I are together and we’re fine. We love you.”
It had comforted Ruby more than a little to know that she wasn’t losing her mind. And if Ariel’s nocturnal visits couldn’t be considered everyone’s norm, they had become Ruby’s norm. Ruby picked up her brush and tried to bring some order to her hair. Maybe, she thought, it was time she told Frieda and Bella about her contact with Ariel. She wasn’t entirely sure why she had kept her experiences from them so far; maybe she was afraid of not being taken seriously. But now might be the time. The knowledge that Ariel’s spirit was at rest could only help. Couldn’t it?
With a sense of determination Ruby tossed her brush onto the vanity table and left her bedroom. The moment she entered the kitchen she felt the tension between her daughter and granddaughter. “Good morning,” Ruby said, taking her seat at the table.
Frieda smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Bella made no reply, verbal or otherwise, but continued to chew her cold cereal. Ruby helped herself to a cup of coffee and a piece of toast. Her determination wavered. Maybe it was best not to say anything. Emotions were already riding high. But no. She had to hope that sharing Ariel’s words of comfort might help heal whatever unhappiness was forcing a wedge between her daughter and granddaughter.
“I hope everyone slept well,” Ruby said brightly. “I had an interesting night myself. Ariel came to me. It wasn’t the first time.”
Bella stopped chewing and looked at her grandmother with an expression of surprise.
Frieda frowned. “What do you mean Ariel came to you?”
“I mean,” Ruby explained, “that she comes to me at night. Not every night but sometimes. She stands at the foot of the bed and we talk.”
Bella put her spoon next to her bowl.
“She always has the same message,” Ruby went on. “She says that she loves you both very much. She says that she and Aaron are together and happy and that neither of you should worry.” Ruby paused before going on. “She said that you should turn to each other for support.” Ariel had said no such thing, but Ruby thought that she certainly might have. In any case, the advice was sound.
“I’m confused, Grandma,” Bella said. “How do you know you’re not just dreaming?”
“That’s a good question,” Ruby admitted. “I’ll try to explain. When Ariel appears to me there are no weird or confusing symbols like there are in a typical dream. Everything is lucid and straightforward. There are no riddles. There’s no sense of fear or frustration.”
Bella leaned toward Ruby. “I want to know everything,” she said. “What is she wearing? Is her hair loose or is it braided? Does she stay for long? Does she answer questions? Because if she does maybe you could ask her if she . . . If she forgives me.”
“Bella, I don’t—”
Ruby put a reassuring hand on her daughter’s arm. “It’s all right, Frieda. I usually just listen to Ariel,” she told her granddaughter. “What I hear assures me that your father and sister are safe and that they love you and your mother without question.” Ruby smiled. “As for what Ariel is wearing, well, I can’t tell exactly, but I can tell that her hair is loose, almost like a halo around her head.”
“You’ll tell me when it happens again?” Bella asked urgently. “When Ariel comes to you and if she has anything to say to me about . . . about anything?”
“I will,” Ruby promised. “But in the meantime, remember what she told me last night. Everything is all right.” Then she turned to her daughter. “What are you up to today?” she asked.
Frieda shook her head. “After this conversation whatever I say is bound to be boring. I’m working on a new job. My deadline is right around the corner, so there’s no time to waste.”
Ruby nodded. “And you’ll be late for work, Bella, if you don’t get a move on.”
Bella looked at her phone and then pushed her chair away from the table. “Bye,” she said, dashing out of the kitchen.
When she had gone Ruby braced herself for the questions she knew Frieda was going to ask. Sure enough, as soon as the front door had closed Frieda said, “Mom? Are you really serious about communicating with Ariel?”
“Of course I am,” she said. “I would never lie about something so profound. What I experience is popularly known as After Death Contact. It’s not uncommon and it can take place in a variety of ways. In my case, Ariel comes to me at night.” Ruby shrugged. “Maybe it’s because I’m more receptive and relaxed than I am in the day. I don’t pretend to understand it. I just choose to believe it.”
Frieda shook her head. “I’ve never experienced any kind of contact with either Aaron or Ariel. I wonder if I lack some, I don’t know, some essential quality that makes contact possible. Although I have to admit that I find the notion of a spirit making contact with a living person upsetting. Who else knows about this, Mom?”
“Don’t worry,” Ruby said with a small smile. “I don’t go announcing it around town. I know that most people would say I’d lost my mind. Only George and Phil know. Look, Frieda, I’m sorry if I upset you; really I am. I only decided to tell you and Bella because I th
ought that knowing Ariel and Aaron are okay might help.”
Frieda got up from the table. “I don’t know if it helps or not,” she admitted. “All I know is that I should get to work.”
“I’ll clear up the breakfast things,” Ruby said quietly. But she didn’t get up from her chair immediately. Instead she sat alone at the kitchen table and wondered if she had just done more harm than good; she wondered if her sharing was the disastrous equivalent of Frieda’s little party in Ariel’s honor, a well-intentioned attempt at healing gone wrong. Maybe she should have discussed things with George first, but even after three years of their being together she couldn’t entirely shake the habit of making every decision, however big or small, on her own. Independence was a good thing; no one could argue that it wasn’t. But when you had the opportunity to turn to someone you loved and trusted for an opinion or a word of advice or a differing perspective, why not take that opportunity?
Old habits die hard; that’s why, Ruby thought, finally rising. And she had been in the habit of trusting no one but herself—and, on occasion, Phil—for a very long time.
Chapter 39
Frieda had worked on the new copyediting project until her eyes were sore, so when Jack called and asked if she could spare half an hour for a coffee she had readily agreed. It was only when she had ended the call did she remember all too clearly Bella’s threat. It was with some effort that Frieda convinced herself that having a cup of coffee with a former schoolmate in a public setting couldn’t possibly be seen as objectionable. Well, she half convinced herself.
The old-fashioned diner in downtown Yorktide was almost empty at three in the afternoon. Aside from the two of them there was only a young couple sitting at the counter, eating burgers and fries.
“You seem a little, I don’t know, distracted. Everything okay?” Jack asked when they had settled at the booth farthest from the young couple and ordered their coffees.
“Yeah,” Frieda lied, hoping that Bella wouldn’t choose this moment to take her afternoon break and stroll past the diner. I’m not doing anything wrong, she told herself, but she didn’t believe a word of it, not really. “Well, my mother told me something this morning that’s been bothering me. She said that Ariel comes to her at night. She says it’s genuine After Death Contact.” Frieda shook her head. “I don’t know what to make of it all.”
The waitress delivered their coffees, and when she had gone off, Jack asked, “These episodes don’t upset your mother, do they?”
“They don’t seem to,” Frieda said. “She says the encounters are thoroughly pleasant. Assuming they’re real.”
“You think she’s imagining them?”
“I can’t help but wonder if she might be manufacturing the visitations or whatever they are in some misguided attempt to make Bella and me feel better. The messages Ariel brings are meant to comfort us.”
Jack shook his head. “You really think your mother would stoop to trickery?”
“No.” Frieda sighed. “You’re right; she herself said she would never lie about something so profound. It’s just that . . . The whole idea makes me uncomfortable. It seems so—so dark, and I can’t bear for my husband or my child to be associated with anything ugly.”
“But according to Ruby the episodes aren’t gloomy or frightening.”
“I know,” Frieda admitted. “Bella seemed fascinated by the whole thing. I suspect she wishes Ariel would come to her. I just hope she doesn’t start dwelling on the hereafter.”
“I’ve heard a bit about Ruby Hitchens’s older granddaughter over the years and I never got the impression she was one of those young people who glamorize death and Satan and all that black magic nonsense.”
Frieda smiled a bit. “No,” she said. “Bella has always been firmly on the bright side of things. Until now.”
“I don’t think you have to start worrying until she shows up for dinner wearing black lipstick and sporting tattoos of skulls and vampires.”
“Can you imagine what my mother would say to that?” Frieda paused. “Jack,” she said, “do you remember my father?”
“Not well, no,” Jack admitted. “But I do know that my parents liked him. Not the fact that he left Yorktide in the way he did but who he was before that. They said he was always ready with a smile and a helping hand. They remember that he raked leaves and shoveled snow for an elderly neighbor when your parents lived out on North Hill Road, which was the back of beyond in those days. I think it was a shock to my parents when Steve left town the way he did. From what I heard he didn’t say good-bye to anyone other than your mother. One day he was just gone.”
Yes, Frieda thought. Just gone. “How are your parents, Jack?” she asked. “I’m sorry I haven’t asked before now.”
“Thriving,” Jack told her. “They moved to Florida not long after Veronica passed away. They were a godsend to me at the end. I try to see them at least twice a year, which means my going to Florida. My mother says that after sixty-some years in Maine she’s had enough of the cold.”
“But what about our lovely summers and gorgeous autumns? Doesn’t she miss those?”
Jack laughed. “I don’t argue with my mother. I never win.”
“I know the feeling.”
The waitress returned and asked if they wanted a refill. Frieda looked at her watch and shook her head. “I should be getting home,” she said. “I’m on dinner duty tonight.”
Jack paid their check and together they walked out of the diner. Frieda glanced quickly in the direction of Phil’s shop. “Thanks, Jack,” she said.
“For the coffee?” Jack smiled.
“For listening.”
“My pleasure,” he assured her. “Look, there’s a really fantastic jazz group playing tomorrow night at Jonathan’s. Any interest in joining me?”
“I’ll . . . I’ll let you know. I’m hoping a marketing gig I applied for will come through, and if it does it will keep me pretty busy for a while.” It was the truth, Frieda reminded herself. Part of it.
“Okay,” Jack said. “I hope you can come. I never miss this group when they’re in town.”
Jack walked off, and as he did Frieda felt a wave of regret. She shouldn’t have agreed to see Jack today. The risk had been too great and by meeting with him and sharing the story of Ariel’s visitations she had in effect been leading him on. She had treated him as a friend and he couldn’t be a friend.
He just couldn’t be.
Chapter 40
“Can you believe what this woman said to me today?” Bella was pacing Clara’s room. “I was in the convenience store on my lunch break getting a bottle of water and this woman came up to me and said she knew who I was. I didn’t recognize her, but before I could tell her that I didn’t know her she was going on about how God had called my father and sister to him and about how God has his reasons for all the stuff he does even when we can’t understand the reasons. It was insane!”
Clara, sitting on the edge of the bed, continued to tap away at her phone. “Maybe she was only trying to be nice.”
“Nice?” Bella laughed. “That’s a funny sort of way to be nice! I don’t believe in God, not really. So now what? I’m supposed to think that my father’s and sister’s deaths were random and meaningless? And what if I did believe in God? Then suddenly their dying would make perfect sense?” Bella shook her head. “What possible sense could it make for two good people to die so horribly? Why would God want that? And if he did want to kill two good people for some reason that made sense to him if not to anyone else, why would I want to believe in that sort of God?”
“I don’t believe in God anymore,” Clara said, tossing her phone onto her pillow. “I used to, when I was a kid. But then . . .” Clara shrugged. “Marc is Catholic. He was an altar boy for a while. His family still goes to church on Sundays. I wonder if I’ll have to become a Catholic when we get married. I’ll do it, of course. I’d do anything for Marc. I’d probably even kill for him.”
Bella rolled her
eyes. She had been hoping for a few sympathetic words from Clara, not more about her devotion to Saint Marc. “Don’t you even want to know what I said to her?” she asked.
Clara frowned. “Who?”
“The woman in the convenience store!”
“Oh. Yeah. Sure.”
“I said thank you! Can you believe I thanked her? For what? I was so confused the words just came popping out of my mouth. I should have told her to mind her own business. That probably would have been rude, but isn’t it rude to assume another person shares your beliefs or whatever?”
“Forget about her, Bella,” Clara said, jumping up from her bed. “Come on, let’s take some hits.”
Bella opened her mouth to say no, but the word didn’t come out. Instead she remembered the time her grief counselor had suggested she get a prescription from her GP for an antidepressant. “Something mild,” Colleen had said. “Just something to help lower the noise in your head so that you can focus on getting better.” But Bella had refused in spite of Colleen’s reassurance that an antidepressant wouldn’t fundamentally change who she was. Bella hadn’t wanted anything messing with her feelings, even for the better.
But smoking marijuana was different, Bella thought, watching Clara open the metal box atop her dresser and take out a joint. Smoking pot was supposed to be fun. And she could use some fun after running into that woman in the convenience store. And after that ugly scene with her mother the other day when they had argued about Jack Tennant. Fun. It seemed like a thing of the long-distant past. It seemed like something she deserved.
“You know what?” Bella said. “Yeah, I’ll do it.”
Clara laughed. “This is so cool. It’s much more fun to get high with someone than on your own.”
“You’ve been smoking with other people?” Bella asked.
“A lot of people at The Flipper smoke dope, but don’t tell anyone.”
“Who would I tell? Look,” Bella said, reaching into her cross-body bag. “Let me give you some money. I don’t have a lot, but . . .”
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