Little Whispers

by Glen Krisch

  Leah accepted Krista’s hug and was soon embracing her just as fiercely. She didn’t know from whom the trembling originated.

  At long last, Leah pulled away. “Thanks, sis.” She had tears in her eyes, but a smile on her lips. “And what is your big news?”

  “What do you mean?” Krista said.

  She didn’t like Leah’s knowing expression, one she had seen often. Since childhood, Leah had claimed the ability to see auras; she associated emotions with colors; she believed life’s experience became etched into the soul’s palette; and she alone could see, understand, and interpret these incomprehensible colorations. Leah somehow … knew things, and sometimes she knew them even before Krista did. Inexplicably, Leah would grasp Krista’s guarded innermost thoughts like feathers floating on a breeze.

  “Oh, crap,” Krista said, and set her wineglass aside. “I’m not … I’m not pregnant, am I?”

  Leah laughed before her face went blank. She stared intently at Krista for an unnerving twenty seconds. Then her smile returned.

  “Nope, no bun in the oven for you.”

  “Oh, thank God.” Krista picked up her wineglass and took a big swallow. Her face flushed. “It’s not like it wouldn’t be a pleasant surprise … it’s not like we haven’t talked about it. But …” She shrugged.

  “Bad timing?” Leah offered.

  “Yeah, it’s just not good right now.” Krista rinsed out her empty glass in the sink.

  There. No more. I’m already going to have an awful headache tomorrow.

  “But there’s something right? Some big change?”

  Leah nodded, but offered no more.

  “But you can’t tell me what it is—”

  “Because I don’t know. I wish it worked that way, Krista. You know it. But I do know something big is coming.”

  “Good? Bad?”

  “If I were to guess …?” Leah looked out the back window, into the darkened trees, to the uncertainty beyond. “A little of both?”

  Krista felt like shaking her sister until answers flowed from her lips, but Clara entered the kitchen. No, check that. She stomped into the kitchen with her arms crossed in front of her and her eyes closed to angered slits.

  “Mom, can you tell Trevor he needs to—”

  “Not now, Clara,” Krista said.

  “But Mom—”

  “I said not now. Go work it out with your cousins.”

  Clara sucked in a breath.

  Krista immediately regretted rebuffing her daughter so abruptly. She so often relied on Clara’s innate maturity that she sometimes took it for granted. As she stormed away, Krista felt like the worst mother ever.

  She waited for Leah to turn back to face her, but she didn’t. It was like the darkness had entranced her. She stared unblinking into the roiling shadows.

  “Is there anything … anything more you can tell me?” Krista asked.

  “Just that I know you are strong.” When Leah finally turned away from the window, she had that same blank stare. “And that’s a good thing …” Leah paused before continuing, “because you’re going to need it.”

  CHAPTER 7

  In-dig-nā-sh∂n. The word perfectly captured Clara’s feelings after her mother’s rebuke.

  In-dig-na-tion. Anger aroused by something unjust, unworthy, or mean.

  All Clara wanted was her book back, and her mom couldn’t be bothered for even a second to help her. Her mind began to pinhole and was steeped in red. Her mom had completely dismissed her concerns, as if she were just a … a child. She paced the long hallway to the front door, stomping every step. She wanted to throw the heavy front door open wide … no, she wanted to rip it from its hinges. Oh, yes, she did! And then let loose and scream.

  But doing so would reinforce the notion that she was merely a child with unimportant, childish problems. She took a deep breath, and then another. Her anger ebbed. Her thoughts less of an immature jumble. Until she heard Trevor’s annoying giggle coming from Poppa’s library.

  It took all her willpower to hold her anger in check as she headed to the source of that nails-on-a-chalkboard sound.

  Trevor’s laughter died off when she entered the room.

  Robby tried to hide a smile behind his hands.

  Heidi sat on a recliner; a Tiffany lamp threw light across her lap, but it did little to illuminate her features.

  “Can I help you?” Trevor offered her a slight but somehow arrogant bow.

  “Give it back!” Clara held out her hand for her missing copy of The Hobbit.

  Trev looked shocked. “Whatever you’re talking about. I don’t got it.” His lips flashed with mischief, all the confirmation Clara needed.

  In the dim twilight, Robby snickered next to Trevor.

  “You took my book, and I want it back. Now.” Her mind verged on snapping, and when Trevor’s expression remained, when it overwhelmed his play-it-stupid modus operandi, she wanted to slap his face.

  “Oh, you mean that ratty old thing you had down by the lake?” Trevor sneered. “I bet you’ve read it a million times.”

  “A gazillion!” Robby added. “I bet you’ve got it memorized!” Robby meant this last bit as an insult, but with her vault-like memory, it wasn’t far from the truth.

  “We want to play hide-and-seek,” Trevor said, sounding like his statement justified any action.

  “Then play. Just leave me out of it and give me back my book!”

  “Heidi can’t run around,” Robby said. “It’s just the two of us. We need a third.”

  “I’ll show you where it is.” Heidi stood from her chair. She winced with her first step, but her next stride was much more fluid.

  Trevor balled his fists at his sides. “Don’t you dare!”

  Robby stepped in front of his sister. “Come on, Heidi.”

  “What?” Heidi cocked her hip. “Clara doesn’t want to play with you, and bullying her isn’t gonna change her mind.”

  “Whatever.” Trevor shook his head. “We don’t need you anyway.”

  “Yeah, we don’t need you anyway!” Robby parroted.

  Heidi thrusted her palm into Robby’s shoulder and he crumpled away. “Come on, Clara.”

  Clara’s only complaint about the argument’s outcome was having to leave the comfy confines of Poppa’s library. If it were up to her, she would retrieve her book and read under the Tiffany lamp’s warm glow until bedtime.

  “Those two …” Heidi shook her head and looked over her shoulder as she led Clara down a hallway.

  “Thanks,” Clara said. She didn’t want to talk about the boys anymore.

  They turned a corner down an unexplored passageway. The dark-paneled walls were covered in somber watercolor landscapes. For some reason, the rolling hills and darkly hued orchards, pasturelands, and watermills gave Clara the impression they were sneaking through a museum after dark.

  “I told them not to hide the book,” Heidi said, drawing her away from the artwork, “and Robby wouldn’t even think of something so mean—”

  “But Trevor,” Clara said.

  “Yeah. Exactly.”

  “How is your leg?”

  “It’s fine.” Heidi stopped and lifted the leg of her sweatpants. “See, it’s just a bruise now. I forget about it until I have to move around.”

  “Ouch …” Clara stared at the purpling bruise a few inches above the ankle. “It looks like something … grabbed you.”

  “No, not something, someone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Everyone thinks I’m crazy …” Heidi trailed off, as if waiting for Clara to refute the statement.

  Even though Clara had been with Heidi at the lake, she couldn’t deny how crazy it sounded. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “Thanks,” Heidi said, then tried to lighten the mood by
adding, “me too.”

  Heidi reached the end of the hallway where a low-backed chair upholstered in velvety gray fabric stood at the terminus. A window above spilled mellow moonlight across the hardwood floor. Two doors faced each other on either side of the chair. Heidi opened the door on the right and entered.

  Clara followed her inside what turned out to be a bedroom laid out like a barracks. Four twin beds fanned out across the room, each with a footlocker. Suitcases sat open on two of them.

  “Is this your room?” Clara asked.

  Her own bedroom for their stay was at the other end of the zigzagging hallway. She had purposely requested the small room with its single bed.

  “I was hoping we could share,” Heidi said. She opened a footlocker, pushed aside folded blankets nested inside, and pulled out Clara’s worn copy of The Hobbit

  Clara nearly cried out in relief. “My book!”

  Heidi handed her the thin volume. “What do you say?”

  “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Clara held the book to her nose. It smelled of dust and age and limitless possibility.

  “No, not that. I meant, what do you say about sharing a room?”

  “Sure … yes.” Clara had never shared a room with anyone. What if Heidi snored? What if she snored? “I’ll have to ask my mom.”

  “Yay!” Heidi took Clara into her willowy arms and hugged her. The girl was scrawny, even more so than Clara, but she was strong.

  “But … what about the boys?” Clara said, pointing to their suitcases. “I don’t want to share with them.”

  “I know! They are so gross, and smelly, and ob-noxious.” Heidi went to the nearest suitcase. She made sure the clasps were secure and then hefted it off the bed with a grunt. “They’ll just have to sleep somewhere else.” She shuffled her way to the door and shoved the suitcase outside.

  “You are incorrigible,” Clara said and started to laugh.

  Even though it didn’t seem Heidi knew what the word meant, she soon joined in.

  After they cleared the room of any evidence the boys had ever been there, Heidi asked if she could read Clara’s palm.

  “Sure.” Clara held out her hand, certain there was no harm in humoring Heidi, who came by her quirkiness honestly—from Aunt Leah.

  Heidi giggled and traced the lines in Clara’s palm with an index finger. Clara couldn’t help giggling as well, partially from nervousness, partially because it tickled.

  And then Heidi’s face turned to stone and any semblance of joy left the room like a swiftly extinguished flame.

  “What is it?” Clara asked, trying to free her hand.

  Heidi wouldn’t let go. She tightened her grip and retraced Clara’s palm.

  “There’s nothing. Your lifeline … it’s gone.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Jack loved having the kids around, but after a long day of their boundless energy, he was happy to have chased them all off to bed amid a mixture of protests and giggles. Late nights over the next week wouldn’t be out of the question, not with everyone excited to see each other after months of separation, so whether or not the kids were asleep yet was anyone’s best guess. Late nights and sleeping in? They were on vacation, after all.

  “I’m going to check on Poppa,” he said from the kitchen.

  Leah was cleaning the already spotless island. She tossed the damp rag into the sink and said, “Look at you, Mr. Responsible Adult.”

  “Someone’s gotta step up around here. Might as well be me.”

  Jack smiled, but with difficulty. He felt like such a fraud. In truth, he wanted to distance himself from his siblings. They only made him feel inadequate and like the world’s biggest fuck-up whenever he was around them.

  “I know we talked about taking the boat out at dawn,” Neal said, “but I don’t think tomorrow morning is going to work.” Neal had his arms wrapped around Krista.

  Always the happy couple.

  “Yeah, what were we thinking?” Jack agreed.

  “Another day?” Without waiting for an answer, Neal whispered something into Krista’s ear. Her cheeks flushed and she elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Definitely,” Jack said and smirked. He stretched his arms over his head as a deep yawn snuck up on him. “After I check on Poppa, I’m gonna hit the hay.”

  Leah pretended to read a watch on her bare wrist. “Wow, it’s barely midnight. Somebody’s getting old.”

  “Not somebody, more like, the all-of-us are. Goodnight.”

  Krista shot him her middle finger, and Leah sucked in a breath in feigned shock. His sisters … God, he’d missed them. Jack laughed and left the kitchen, shaking his head.

  They had not always gotten along, but they always seemed to pull together when they needed to. Jack never realized that until Sheri left him high and dry with colicky three-month-old Trevor wailing in the middle of the night.

  During the first night alone, he had given Krista a call, asking her advice. She drove all the way from Chicago to Rock Creek in a little over two ours, which normally took close to three. She cared for Trevor so Jack could catch up on some sleep. And Leah drove in from Champaign, with a cloth bag filled with an assortment of homeopathic remedies. By the time he’d woken a couple hours later, Trevor was back to his normal, cheerful self. At first, he’d lashed out at Leah for administering whatever witch’s brew she’d concocted, but after taking his son into his arms—him reaching out with his chubby little fist and boxing his nose—Jack had broken out into laughter and then tears.

  His sisters had stayed with him for the next few days, until he felt like his feet were under him. When Leah packed up to leave, he tried to apologize for his initial anger. She explained that she’d brewed Trevor a simple tea of lavender and honey. The energy she’d brought to bear, she insisted, had helped tip Trevor in the right direction. Positive energy. Positive, unquestioned love … And while he’d had his arguments with both sisters since that tumultuous week, he always remembered that phrase. Sometimes it was difficult to manifest, but he tried to keep those words in mind whenever life turned bleak.

  Jack paused outside Poppa’s room. The door was ajar, as if Poppa had been too weak to get it to latch. Jack pushed the door open and gave it a couple light taps.

  “There he is.”

  Poppa looked up from working the top button of his blue flannel pajamas.

  “Come to tuck me in? Is it story time already?” Poppa said and winked, and even though he beamed with his familiar Poppa smile, he looked so incredibly drained, the skin of his face drawn and gray-tinged.

  Jack chuckled and grabbed a book from the bedside table, a Neil Gaiman with an unbroken spine. “I will read to you any time you ask. Let’s see,” he said and paused to consider the title, “how about a little from American Gods?”

  “Really, I’m not quite to that point in my descent, but I’ll remember for future reference.”

  “Poppa—”

  “But honestly, I just want to crawl into this nice warm bed. I’ll probably be asleep in about ninety seconds. I love you all, and I want to know about everything going on in your lives … but I’m tired.”

  “Well, let’s make this happen then.”

  Jack helped lift Poppa’s matchstick legs onto the mattress. His limbs felt so painfully light. Once situated, Jack covered his grandpa with a heavy down comforter.

  Poppa’s eyes were glassy. “Thank you, son. Glad you made it.”

  They both understood the statement’s subtext; Poppa didn’t have long. Once Poppa had wrapped his mind around his diagnosis, he had forgone further treatment. The way he was facing his own mortality had only deepened Jack’s belief that his grandfather was the most courageous man he’d ever met.

  “You can’t get away from me that easily, old man.”

  Jack blinked with watery eyes.

  Poppa chuckled, closed
his eyes. “See you in the morning. We’ll have breakfast in the bright sunshine.”

  “Sounds good, Poppa.”

  Jack leaned over and kissed Poppa’s temple. The tear finally broke across his cheek, and he quickly wiped it away. He didn’t need to fear his grandfather witnessing his sadness; he was already in a deep sleep.

  Poppa cast a long shadow, which would linger after he was gone.

  All things considered, Jack thought he was handling his return to the summer house as well as could be expected. Sure, it was rough to see Poppa’s decline, but he would’ve gladly visited him in a hospital night and day to avoid this place. He hadn’t been here since his grandmother’s funeral almost two years ago. And no matter how bad that day had been, it paled in comparison to the day of her death.

  Jack pulled the door partially closed behind him and watched Poppa’s chest rise and fall. “I miss you, Nan,” he whispered, choking up with emotion. “We all do. Nothing’s been the same … I just don’t know why … Why did you have to do it?”

  Poppa shifted in his bed, but remained asleep, albeit fitfully.

  Jack sniffed and wiped tears from his eyes. He listened to Poppa’s raspy breaths as his frail body continued to fight.

  A light caress against his ear, then a whisper, “Come here, son …”

  Stark still, Jack’s eyes widened in fright. He felt a presence next to him, an invasion of his personal space. Even though he’d nearly pissed himself hearing those disembodied words, he somehow managed to turn toward the sound.

  The hallway was empty. Layers of shadows upon shadows.

  It had been her voice—Nan’s voice—so clear, so full of life.

  He backed away from Poppa’s bedroom, nearly stumbling over his own feet, before turning on his heel and hurrying down the darkened hallway. He reached the living room, immediately relieved upon seeing the moonlight streaming in through the wide windows.

  Better yet, comforting voices came from down the opposing hallway—his nieces, up way too late, giggling at some shared secret.