Sparrow stepped back again. “I won’t feel better until Mama comes back.”
“What?” The color drained from Auntie Geraldine’s face. She looked ashen. “You shouldn’t want that.”
“Why not? Other spirits do it. They come back.”
“Are you referring to that ridiculous boy?”
Sparrow’s whole body stiffened. “What do you know about him?”
“More than you think. You shouldn’t wish his fate on your mama.”
Sparrow glared at her aunt, thinking of all the times the Boy had teased her and Auntie Geraldine’s reactions to him. Always, she was unperturbed and unafraid, as if she knew she had nothing to fear. Slowly, like the rise of the sun, realization dawned on Sparrow. She spat the words at Auntie Geraldine like an accusation. “You see him.”
Auntie Geraldine shrugged.
“How long?” Sparrow demanded.
“Always.”
“Always?” All this time, Auntie Geraldine could have helped her, talked to her about the Boy, talked to her about Mama. She could have been her friend, a confidant. Instead, she pretended she didn’t see him. It was the worst of all of Auntie Geraldine’s betrayals.
“And knowing about him, you still decided to sell the house and the land to Wesley Monroe for a strip mall ?”
“It’s for the best. You’ll never be free of that ghost as long as you live here. Salt only does so much.”
“Salt?” Sparrow asked incredulously.
Auntie Geraldine gave Sparrow a frosty look. “Yes, salt. It keeps spirits away. Why did you think it lined every windowsill and door? Did you think I had simply lost my mind?”
Sparrow had thought that. Now, she knew the truth. Auntie Geraldine was purposely trying to keep the Boy from her, and it was the final straw. Sparrow wouldn’t let Auntie Geraldine get away with it. She spied an envelope on the kitchen counter behind Auntie Geraldine. It looked like Mason Casto’s papers. The ones that said he owned the 76 station. But these would say something different. They might be ownership papers for Dalton House. Sparrow lunged for them.
Auntie Geraldine sprang after Sparrow, but Sparrow was too quick.
“Those are important documents!”
Sparrow clutched the envelope. “Do these give Dalton House to the Monroes?”
Auntie Geraldine’s face flushed red, and Sparrow knew they did.
Sparrow dashed into the yard with the envelope.
“Sparrow, bring those back here this instant!”
Sparrow let the screen door slam shut. She opened the envelope and pulled out the papers, ready to rip them to shreds.
Auntie Geraldine followed her. Her heels made loud clicking sounds on the hardwood. “Don’t.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because Wesley will draw up more, and I’ll sign them again.” Auntie Geraldine walked toward Sparrow, hand outstretched.
Sparrow backed away. “It’s my house. The Boy’s house. Mama’s house.” Sparrow’s voice cracked.
Auntie Geraldine moved closer. “It’s not. It belonged to your mama and me. Now I’m the sole owner and I don’t want to live here with that ghost and memories of your mama haunting my every step.”
“But I do. Shouldn’t that matter?” Sparrow looked toward her beloved marsh. If Auntie Geraldine sold it to the Monroes, it would all be gone. All of it. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“You’re a child. You don’t know what’s best.” Auntie Geraldine pulled herself up to her full height and stalked toward Sparrow, hand outstretched. “Give me the papers.”
Sparrow’s vision blurred from her tears. She blinked them away and stared at the marsh. Her marsh. Dalton land. She belonged to it and it to her. Sparrow shut her eyes and pleaded with the marsh for help.
Like a benevolent father, it indulged her.
The marsh returned the Boy.
From her vantage point in the yard, Sparrow saw the marsh in its entirety. A bright, low-slung moon illuminated it with the vividness of midday. She saw the sandbar stretching from west to east, the mangrove trees on the far bank, and, deep within its depths, the Boy.
His presence lured Sparrow like a moth to a flame. This was her chance to turn the tide, to set everything right.
She just had to get past Auntie Geraldine. Auntie Geraldine stood before Sparrow, hand outstretched, demanding the papers.
Sparrow kicked Auntie Geraldine in the shin.
Auntie Geraldine doubled over, clutching her injured leg.
Sparrow pushed past her and sprinted toward the marsh. As she ran, she loosened her grip on the papers and the pages scattered before her like a flock of egrets.
“Sparrow!” Auntie Geraldine called, but Sparrow was beyond listening.
Sparrow splashed into the waters and ran until the sucking mud slowed her. She found the sandbar and began to make her way to the Boy. He shimmered in the moonlight like a beacon.
It was never quiet on the marsh at night. The loud croaking of the frogs overtook the crickets’ softer song. Underneath the frogs’ persistent yowls, the skittering movement of birds and other small animals reminded Sparrow of what she knew only too well. She wasn’t the only living creature moving through the wetlands. Sparrow put thoughts of gators, snakes, and panthers from her mind and walked deeper into the marsh.
It was harder than she expected to navigate the marsh in the moonlight. The land she knew so well undulated with eerie shadows, and rain clouds crept toward the moon, threatening its light.
As she trudged forward, the shore got farther and farther away.
She continued to put distance between her and the land until she reached the Boy.
He wavered in the moonlight like a star.
She offered the watch to him. “Now you can help Mama.”
The Boy smiled at Sparrow, but he made no move to take the watch from her.
She pushed it toward him. “Take it.” He only needed to reach for it to seal their deal.
He looked toward the watch longingly, and then back at Sparrow. But he didn’t make a move toward it.
She dangled it by the chain, allowing the gold to glint in the moonlight. “Don’t you want it?”
He tipped his head to the side as if considering the question, but he did not reach for his family heirloom. He merely wavered in the moonlight, reminding Sparrow of the swirling spirits.
The snaking cold of doubt crept up Sparrow’s spine and forced her to consider questions she preferred to leave unexplored. For the first time, Sparrow wondered if it wasn’t the spirits who needed to learn how to be like the Boy, but the Boy who needed to learn how to be like them. What if he desired to exist in a different way? Did he long to let go of his ghostly form, so he could exist as a spirit untethered to the living world? Untethered to her.
Suddenly, everything Sparrow thought she knew shifted. Like gears finally clicking into place, she truly understood what the Boy needed. He needed to be released. He needed to leave the land of the living for the realm of spirits.
“Mama’s not coming back, is she?”
The Boy gave no reply. He didn’t need to. Sparrow already knew the answer.
She sank to the ground, exhausted and spent. She clutched the watch to her chest. She couldn’t do it now. She couldn’t give him the watch if Mama wasn’t coming back. She couldn’t lose everything—Mama, the Boy, Dalton House—and he wasn’t asking her to. He was letting her choose his fate.
With no hope of Mama’s return, the full weight of her sorrow pressed on her heart. Like a dam bursting, it gushed forth.
The Boy sat beside her as she poured her grief into the marsh. Her tears fell for the Boy, his loyalty and the sacrifice he was making for her, the father she didn’t have, and Mama, who she would never see again in this lifetime.
He stayed by her side as she filled the marsh with her tears.
The marsh drank Sparrow’s sorrow while a gentle breeze caressed her, and the whispering wind told her love never says goodbye, over and over agai
n, until she began to believe it.
When she had spent her grief, the Boy beckoned to her, letting her know it was time to return to where she belonged.
Thunder cracked, and a black storm cloud rolled over the massive moon, plunging the marsh into darkness. Her time of sanctuary had ended. The marsh was changing from benevolent father to wild thing again, reminding her she was a girl, not a nighttime creature of the marsh.
Thunder cracked again, and it started to pour.
The Boy urged her to hurry. Suddenly, he was panicked, and Sparrow realized why. The tide was rising—rapidly.
Sparrow recalled the gigantic, low-slung moon and the warnings she’d grown up hearing. Her skin prickled as she thought king tide.
Fear twisted Sparrow’s stomach.
She took in her surroundings, trying to determine her distance from shore. She saw the big oak tree that marked the edge of the marsh, a dark shadow barely visible against the black night sky. She was deep in the marsh with a surging king tide, and her only path to shore was a sand bridge that would soon cease to exist.
The Boy’s fate was about to become hers.
Sparrow slipped the watch into her pocket and ran.
The Boy appeared in front of her, disappearing and reappearing every few feet, a spectral guide leading her home. He was doing for Sparrow what he had been unable to do for himself. He was saving her.
Sparrow felt the water rise.
At first, the water only splashed over her feet and she ran along like a child in the surf. Then it crested her ankles and rose to midcalf, the weight of the water dragging her down, making it difficult to move.
The Boy stayed always ahead, lighting her way, but the sandbar stretching from Beulah to the sea was descending into the depths of the marsh like a sinking ship.
Sparrow ran as fast as she could.
Though the oak trees on the bank were becoming larger, letting her know she was closer to shore, she still had far to go, and the tide’s response to the moon was quicker than her feet.
Even with the Boy’s help, she veered too far off the sandbar—a fatal mistake. Instead of silty sand to give her feet purchase, she ran through slippery reed grass that twisted and coiled around her legs, slowing her.
As she reached down to untangle her feet, she heard her name being called.
“Sparrow!”
She never thought she’d be happy to hear her name being yelled by Auntie Geraldine. Her heart fluttered with hope at the sound of her aunt’s stern, determined call. “Auntie Geraldine! I’m here!”
Sparrow reached down with both hands to disentangle her feet, frantic to get away, but the slick knot of reed grass only tightened. “Auntie Geraldine!”
Again came the answering call, “Sparrow!”
A flood of light shone her way as a flashlight beam swung frantically in her direction.
Before Sparrow could answer again, her hand released a clump of grass, but instead of setting her free, she lost her balance and pitched forward into the water.
Water flowed over her head and into her mouth. Sparrow tried to kick free, but the more she did, the more trapped she became.
She fought upward, caught a breath of life-sustaining air, and then went under again. She opened her eyes against the brackish water. The Boy floated at her feet, trying to untangle them, but his ghostly efforts were no match for the living marsh. The Boy could flash lights and move things around, but his powers were limited and unable to unravel complicated knots.
Sparrow reached for her feet and began to work.
The Boy disappeared.
Sparrow pushed up for another breath of air, but couldn’t reach the surface. As she sank again, the Boy reappeared above her, a lighthouse beacon to give her hope.
Sparrow’s lungs were on fire, but she needed air, not water, to extinguish the pain, and she fought with her body to not take the breath it so desperately wanted.
Just when she thought she’d lost the fight, the marsh gave Sparrow one last gift—Auntie Geraldine.
Auntie Geraldine’s strong hands found Sparrow and pulled her up.
For once, Sparrow understood the benefit of Auntie Geraldine’s height. Her long legs gave her an advantage in the rising water. What measured as chest high for Sparrow barely hit Auntie Geraldine’s waist.
Auntie Geraldine gave a mighty yank and Sparrow came free of the reed grass.
Auntie Geraldine scooped Sparrow out of the water and carried her to shore.
When they got to the bank, Auntie Geraldine set Sparrow down gently under one of the great oaks, and then collapsed next to her.
The Boy stood at the border between water and land, shimmering dimly in the pouring rain.
“I thought you were going to drown,” Auntie Geraldine said in short, ragged gulps.
“You saved me.” Wonder and relief overtook Sparrow. Auntie Geraldine had risked her life to rescue Sparrow.
“I was only able to because of him.” Auntie Geraldine pointed at the Boy. “He shone above you like a lighthouse.”
Sparrow watched the Boy flicker. She owed him her life and much more. “Why didn’t you tell me you could see him?”
“Why would I? I spent my entire childhood ignoring that ghost, hoping that if I did he’d go away. And you know what? Eventually, he did. Then you came along and that boy was back. Letting you know I could see him would only encourage you and him. The two of you were bad enough already. That ghost followed you around like a dog and you liked him …” Auntie Geraldine sucked in a breath. She seemed to be deciding what to say next. How much more to say. “All my life, all I’ve ever wanted to be was a regular person. Seeing that ghost … I wanted to be like everyone else, not some flea market psychic.”
For the first time, Sparrow glimpsed the Auntie Geraldine Mama knew. The lonely one. “I like flea market psychics.”
“You would.” Even though Auntie Geraldine’s words were curt, Sparrow heard something in her voice she’d never noticed before—warmth.
The rain began to slow and Sparrow watched the Boy waver, his hair and clothing unaffected by the weather.
“Why do we see him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you see other spirits?” Sparrow wondered how alike she and Auntie Geraldine were.
The rain slowed to a trickle and the moon started to peek out from behind the clouds.
“Those swirly wisps? I try not to.”
“I think Mama is one of the wispy spirits now.”
“Maybe,” Auntie Geraldine said thoughtfully.
“I wasn’t ready for her to leave me.” Sparrow choked on the words.
“She wasn’t ready to leave you either. She fought hard to stay with you as long as she could, but it was her time. We don’t get to make that choice for ourselves.” Auntie Geraldine’s breath caught. “She thought she left you in good hands.”
Sparrow’s throat ached and tears slid down her cheeks. It warmed her heart and hurt it to the point of breaking that Mama tried so hard to stay with her.
“I don’t hate you,” Auntie Geraldine said.
“I don’t hate you either, but I wish you were nicer to me.”
Auntie Geraldine swallowed and her voice got tight. “I meant to be, but being around you was harder than I expected. Lord have mercy, I loved your mama, and you remind me so much of her. It’s like living with a different kind of ghost.”
Sparrow wished the mirror reminded her she was Lilly Dalton’s daughter. “But I look nothing like Mama.”
“No, but you are like her in every other way … brave, strong, loving. Your heart is as big and wide as that marsh out there. Just like your mama’s. You see the world in ways others don’t. When you look at that boy, you don’t see a ghost. You see a friend. Same as with the Castos. And Dalton House; I wish I saw what you see when you look at it. You’re like your mama. Seeing beauty where others don’t. You inherited all the best parts of her. I see her in you every day …” Auntie Geraldine fell silent. She was c
rying.
Sparrow’s eyes stung and her heart swelled to the point of bursting to hear Auntie Geraldine talk about her in that way. Like she loved her. Hearing how much she was like Mama made Sparrow’s whole body throb with hurt, but in a way that felt like being put back together instead of being torn apart.
Sparrow reached for Auntie Geraldine’s hand. She missed Mama too, and Sparrow wanted to put her back together a little bit, if she could. “You remind me of her sometimes. When you smile, you look like Mama.”
Auntie Geraldine took a big breath. “One of the last things your mama said to me was, you’re going to need that girl and she’s going to need you. Don’t be stubborn about it.” Auntie Geraldine’s voice got crackly and she put Sparrow’s hand in her lap. “She was always right about matters of the heart.”
The rain stopped and the clouds slid off the moon. From somewhere up high, a whip-poor-will started calling. Soon, all the animals would shake off the rain and come out of hiding.
“I wonder if we can start over? I’ll probably always be snippy, but I do have it in me to love you the way your mama wanted me to. I promise I’ll love you like that from now on.”
That sounded pretty good to Sparrow. She laid her head on Auntie Geraldine’s shoulder.
“I’ll take that for a yes.”
Sparrow nodded. Her cheek rubbed against Auntie Geraldine’s dress. The feel of cotton against her skin reminded Sparrow of laying her head against Mama when the preacher got long-winded and the nave felt like a steaming shower.
“Will you work on the snippy part?”
“If I have to.” Sparrow heard something else in Auntie Geraldine’s voice she’d never noticed before—humor. Auntie Geraldine had made a joke.
They stayed like that for a moment, listening to the marsh coming out of hiding and settling into their new way of being together.
Auntie Geraldine cleared her throat and helped Sparrow to her feet. “We should go up to the house and get dry clothes.”
Sparrow felt the weight of the watch in her pocket. She looked at the Boy wavering in the moonlight. “Just a second.”
Sparrow walked to the edge of the marsh where the Boy stood. She pulled out the pocket watch. She clicked it open and wound the crown. She held it to her ear and heard the steady ticking. She marveled at the miracle of it. She didn’t know how or why it still worked. But it did. With it, she could save Dalton House and keep the Boy by her side.
The Spirit of Cattail County Page 17