The Spirit of Cattail County Page 8

  Like a miracle, she felt a soft, spectral hand slide into hers. For a moment, she let herself believe her wish had come true, and then she turned.

  The Boy sat beside her and held her hand. He stared at her with dark eyes so lonely she felt she might drown in the depths of their sadness. She’d never noticed before how unhappy he seemed, but now that she had, she wondered how she’d ever missed it.

  Abashed, she looked down.

  Lying in the sliver of space between them like a gift was the tree card.

  Sparrow picked it up. The threadbare paper felt as supple as well-worn cotton and as precious as a promise. Her heart fluttered.

  The Boy was the tree. He was offering to help her find Mama.

  Sparrow met the Boy’s eyes. Looking into them was like gazing at her own lonely soul. She imagined him wandering Dalton House, adrift and abandoned. She recalled the rest of Elena’s prediction—he needed her help in return.

  Sparrow nodded to let the Boy know she understood.

  He gave her a slow, sad smile, and Sparrow got the sense that he’d waited her entire life for her to recognize his need. She knew what it felt like to wait for something that never came. A rush of compassion engulfed her. She felt his pain as if it were her own, and her heart cracked.

  A tear rolled down her cheek.

  The Boy wiped the falling tear with his ghostly hand.

  Sparrow felt it drop on hers.

  Sparrow and the Boy stayed linked together, watching each other, watching the rain, and holding hands until they heard the sound of Auntie Geraldine’s tires on the gravel drive.

  “Sparrow?” Auntie Geraldine pushed open the screen door, her red dress a shock of color amid the dreary backdrop of the day.

  The Boy faded away.

  Sparrow quickly wiped her face. The Boy’s promise to find Mama filled her with a bittersweet peace. Knowing he planned to help bring Mama back soothed the ache in her soul, but it also made her feel sad that the Boy had waited so long for the same feeling.

  If Auntie Geraldine noticed Sparrow’s tears, she chose not to comment. Instead, she shook her umbrella, sprinkling water everywhere.

  “It’s bad luck to have an open umbrella in the house,” Sparrow said, repeating the superstition Mama frequently quoted when chiding Sparrow for poor manners more than tempting fate. Everyone knew it was rude to drip rainwater on the floor.

  Auntie Geraldine yanked her umbrella shut. “This is not in the house. This is on the front porch.”

  Sparrow spent so much time on the porch sitting on her swing that it felt like the living room to her. She contemplated explaining this very sensible distinction to Auntie Geraldine, but she was interrupted before she got the chance.

  “There are groceries in the car. Go get them.”

  Sparrow wanted to remind Auntie Geraldine that she had not said please but decided Auntie Geraldine was too old to learn manners anyway, so it wasn’t worth the bother. Besides, Sparrow didn’t feel the need to train Auntie Geraldine. The Boy had promised to help her find Mama, and nothing Auntie Geraldine did could upset her now.

  Sparrow dashed out to the Buick to grab the groceries. There were three grocery bags in the trunk, all filled with blue-and-white boxes of salt. Sparrow couldn’t think of one reason to need all that salt. Auntie Geraldine must finally be losing her mind. Sparrow scooped up two of the bags, and when she saw what was underneath, her heart plummeted all the way to her stomach. A FOR SALE sign hid on the bottom of the trunk like an invader.

  Sparrow stared at the sign in horror as raindrops fell, soaking her to the bone. In that moment, she realized she’d never truly believed Auntie Geraldine would sell the house and make her move away. A furious, raging anger filled Sparrow from her head to her toes. Auntie Geraldine hated Sparrow. She had to. Why else would she remove Sparrow from the house she loved, the house where all her memories were, the house the Boy lived in, the place most likely for Mama to come to when she returned? She was only doing it out of meanness, spite, and hate.

  Sparrow refused to let her get away with it.

  Sparrow grabbed the bags and pounded up the porch steps. She walked into the kitchen and dropped the bags at Auntie Geraldine’s feet. They thudded to the ground. The boxes of salt tumbled out and broke apart, spewing grainy white salt all over the kitchen floor.

  “What in the name of creation is wrong with you?”

  “The house. You’re going to sell it.”

  “That’s not been a secret. You’ve known that the entire time. I can’t live in this horrible old place.”

  “You’re horrible.”

  Auntie Geraldine stalked over to Sparrow and grabbed her by the arm. “You listen here. You are insufferable and rude. I should sell you with the house.” The rain took on a new tenor, coming down so hard the noise from the tin roof sounded like an army on the march. Auntie Geraldine looked up at the roof as if she might be able to see the rain. “Did you shut the trunk?” She had to yell to be heard over the clatter.

  “I did not,” Sparrow yelled back.

  Auntie Geraldine dropped Sparrow’s arm and rushed toward the door.

  Sparrow hated that car. It was the only thing Auntie Geraldine loved. “I hope it drowns.”

  Auntie Geraldine paused midstride and spun back to Sparrow. Her face was pure fury, and her red dress made her look like an executioner. “Don’t you EVER say drowned in this house. Not this close to the marsh. That land out there that you think is so wonderful. It is hard and cruel. It turns on a dime. Tease it and you might find out what it’s capable of.”

  Auntie Geraldine’s speech stunned Sparrow. She’d never known her to be superstitious. She was practical and efficient.

  Auntie Geraldine seemed to have surprised herself with her lecture, but she recovered quickly. “I’m glad to see that I’ve finally made you lose your sass. Get this kitchen cleaned up and then go to your room. I don’t want you in my sight the rest of the night. And if you EVER talk to me like that again, I will find something you love and shred it to pieces.” Auntie Geraldine stormed out of the kitchen, her black pumps hitting the hardwood with so much force indentions followed in her wake.

  Sparrow felt the hot sting of tears. Auntie Geraldine had done that already. Sparrow felt like her life was being torn apart little by little each day.

  She grabbed the broom and started to sweep, putting all her anger into the act. When she had a huge, round mound of salt, she opened up the back door and shoved it out into the rain.

  Sparrow had to stop Auntie Geraldine from selling the house and she needed someone to help her. Fortunately, she had the perfect person in mind—Mason Casto.

  It rained for four days, and almost as if the marsh had set out to prove Auntie Geraldine’s point, its waters rose higher and higher with each drop. The marsh covered the mudflats and the sandbar. By the third day, it crested the banks and its watery tendrils lapped at the lawn and soaked the ground up to the porch steps.

  Those were lonely days for Sparrow.

  As much as she tried to be hopeful about the Boy’s promise to help find Mama, a flood of grief and setbacks arrived with the rain.

  Auntie Geraldine refused to speak to Sparrow, and while Sparrow disliked much of what Auntie Geraldine had to say when she did talk, the silence hit her hard. Being trapped in Dalton House for four days with a vengeful Auntie Geraldine made Sparrow miss Mama in a whole new way. Sparrow was hurting, and she needed the kindness of comfort. She yearned to travel back in time to when she was a little kid and Mama fixed even the biggest problems with a hug and a kiss.

  To compound her sorrow, the Boy had mysteriously disappeared, and his absence made Sparrow feel hollow.

  She had not seen him since the afternoon on the porch when he held her hand and promised to help her find Mama. Up until that moment, Sparrow had seen him every day of her life. He was her closest companion, her link to Mama, and the life raft that kept her afloat when the swell of grief threatened to overflow. To be parted from h
im felt like drowning.

  The Boy’s inexplicable disappearance distressed Sparrow so much that when the fifth day dawned with a bright, gleaming sun and white clouds that drifted across the blue sky like sailing ships, she knew she needed to do something to unravel the mystery of his unnerving departure.

  She planned to tell Elena about the Boy. Elena knew about sage smoke and tarot cards and mystical truths—if there was anyone who could help her figure out where the Boy had gone, it was Elena, and Sparrow had run out of time to be coy. With the Boy missing, the house up for sale, and Mama nowhere to be seen, Sparrow had to take desperate measures.

  After Sparrow told Elena about the Boy, she was going to talk to Mason Casto. She needed someone to save the house from Auntie Geraldine, and if the rumors were true, and Mason had made a fortune in the oil business and was her daddy, he might want to buy Dalton House for her. She’d been daydreaming about it so frequently since the thought first popped into her head that the prospect felt almost as real as a memory.

  Sparrow walked into the kitchen and paused. Theirs was a country kitchen with walls the color of buttermilk and sheer white curtains that billowed when the breeze blew just right. The radio that sat on the kitchen counter played a country hymn, and the music called up Mama in a way that made Sparrow ache. Mama always listened to old country hymns on the radio and lately, Sparrow often heard it playing softly. Auntie Geraldine turned it on in the mornings and let it play all day and into the night. At first, Sparrow thought Auntie Geraldine did it to hurt her. Then, after watching Auntie Geraldine closely during those days of silence, Sparrow wondered if she turned it on for other reasons.

  Auntie Geraldine wasn’t in the kitchen. Instead, a piece of yellow legal paper sat in the middle of the table. Sparrow walked across the room to retrieve the note and heard the crunch of salt under her feet. Despite multiple sweeping episodes, the salt lingered with a puzzling tenacity. Sparrow felt sure that living in a sea of perpetual salt annoyed Auntie Geraldine, and this thought gave Sparrow a twinge of satisfaction every time she heard it crunch under her feet.

  Sparrow picked up the note. Auntie Geraldine had scrawled, Gone to Wesley Monroe’s. Back soon. You are still forbidden to go to town!

  Sparrow wrote back, Not in town! Outside. Back soon.

  She felt proud of her cryptic message. Outside covered a lot of territory. Hopefully, Auntie Geraldine would assume Sparrow wandered the property and wouldn’t go looking for her.

  Sparrow walked down the driveway to the main road instead of taking the more hidden route beside the marsh. It was riskier to go that way, but she didn’t have a choice. The marsh water was still high from all the rain, and Auntie Geraldine’s warnings made Sparrow uneasy. She had always believed the marsh to be friendly. Now Auntie Geraldine’s words echoed in her head, planting doubts. Auntie Geraldine ruined everything.

  When Sparrow got to the end of the driveway, she saw the FOR SALE sign. She yanked it up and tossed it down. Even though the day was as still as church, she shoved it with her toe to make it look askew, as if the wind had knocked it over. Auntie Geraldine would probably figure Sparrow had done it, but she didn’t care. She would do anything to keep the house from being sold. Dalton House was theirs. It belonged to Mama and Sparrow, and she refused to let it go without a fight.

  Sparrow arrived at the flea market to find a very different scene than before the rain. Even though the sun shone, everything was still wet from the storm. The vendors manned their booths, but they appeared to be drying out their merchandise rather than selling it.

  Sparrow made her way to Elena’s van and discovered the situation there to be the same as the rest of the flea market. The antiquities booth had nothing on display, and Elena’s tent sat deserted.

  Sparrow knocked on the side of the van.

  The sliding door pulled back to reveal Elena. Though it took Sparrow a moment to recognize the fortune-teller. She didn’t look like herself. She wore shorts and a T-shirt instead of a fashionable sundress. Her chestnut hair was plaited in twin braids rather than down, and she wore no jewelry.

  The most shocking shift was in her demeanor. Elena seemed younger, as if the fortune-teller had stepped aside and let the girl Sparrow kept glimpsing take over.

  “What are you doing here?” Elena asked.

  Sparrow had come to ask for Elena’s help, but Elena looked like she needed a friend. “Are you okay?”

  “Like you care.” Elena crossed her arms. Not in a challenging way like Maeve, but defensively, protecting herself.

  “I do.” Sparrow did care. She liked Elena. “Do you think we can talk?”

  Elena didn’t answer. She simply moved aside and went to the back of the van.

  Sparrow climbed in after her. Once inside, the van looked more like a mini-house than a vehicle. The roof popped up to make a loft bed, and instead of traditional seats, there was a table with benches. The word groovy came to mind even though Sparrow never said it.

  Elena sat at the table with a deck of cards. Only these were not tarot cards, just a regular deck. It looked like Elena was playing a game of solitaire. Elena focused on her game, ignoring Sparrow.

  “Are you mad at me?” Sparrow didn’t know what she had done. What had happened with the Boy during the reading was strange, but she didn’t expect Elena to be upset about that. Elena was an expert on tarot cards and fortunes. Surely, she had experience with spirits too.

  Elena glared at her. “I’m sure you had a good laugh at the weird girl from up north.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Elena’s jaw clenched. “Your practical joke the other day when you made that strange stuff happen before the storm. It was very funny. Did you and your friends have a good laugh?”

  “I would never do something like that.” Sparrow had been made fun of too often to purposely make someone else feel bad. “I’m the person people make fun of.”

  “Yeah, right. Look at you. You’re confident and sure of yourself, and Eli says you’re super smart. He said you haggled with that watch vendor like a pro. Who would make fun of you?”

  “Practically every kid in town.” It surprised Sparrow to hear Elena describe her with the same words she’d use to describe Elena. It also felt good. Beulah folks didn’t like Sparrow much, but here were these outsiders seeing her with new eyes. It made Sparrow wonder if she saw herself clearly.

  “Why did you do it, then? Make all that weird stuff happen with the cards?”

  “I didn’t. I swear. That’s why I wanted to come talk to you …” Sparrow paused. She wondered if she was truly ready to share the secret of the Boy. Even as a little kid, she never told anyone about him, but now he was gone, Mama had not been seen, and Auntie Geraldine was selling the house. Sparrow needed help, and Elena knew about these things, but it was more than that. Elena was the first person Sparrow had met who felt like a kindred spirit. Elena loved her tarot cards the way Sparrow loved her porch swing. Elena felt passionate about her family legacy, the same way Sparrow felt passionate about Dalton House. Elena believed in mystics and Sparrow saw spirits. If Sparrow was going to risk opening up to someone, Elena was a good choice.

  “You were saying?” Elena played another card. This time she put a red queen over a black king.

  “The Boy did that thing with your cards. Only now he’s missing, and I thought you might know why.”

  “The Boy? Right. You can let it go already. You got me. Ha ha.”

  Sparrow had finally gotten brave enough to talk about the Boy, and she’d messed it up. Elena thought Sparrow was teasing her. “I’m not joking.”

  Elena’s expression hardened. “Yes, you are. You’re just like the kids at school, making fun of me because I’m interested in fortune-telling. You think I’m weird, but I’m not. It was my grandmother’s legacy to me and if I don’t keep it alive, no one else will. My mom thinks it is ridiculous. My dad agrees with her. Even Eli doesn’t care about it, and he’s interested in all kinds of historical th
ings. At least with Eli, he understands why it matters to me.”

  Sparrow understood why fortune-telling mattered to Elena. She knew what it was like to try to hold on to something that was slipping away. Sparrow pulled Elena’s tarot card from her back pocket and sat next to her. “I promise I’m not making fun of you.” She slid the tree card across the table to Elena as a peace offering. “I’m sorry if you’ve been missing this. I know your cards are special.”

  Elena pulled the card toward her. “How did you get this?”

  “I told you. The Boy.”

  Elena looked up from the tree card and scrutinized Sparrow. “The Boy?”

  “He’s a ghost. He’s a bit of a prankster. He did that thing with your cards, but he wasn’t trying to scare you or be mean. He was trying to communicate with me. He wants me to help him.”

  Elena tossed a braid over her shoulder. “So you’re psychic?”

  “No, I’m not psychic, but I do see spirits. Mostly, the Boy. I don’t know who he is or why I see him.” Sparrow shrugged. “I just always have.”

  “You know the definition of a psychic is a person who sees ghosts.” Elena still looked skeptical, but her tone had shifted from angry to sarcastic. Sparrow was encouraged. Elena was warming up.

  “Do you see them?” Sparrow asked.

  Elena shut down again and glared at Sparrow. “No.”

  Sparrow forged ahead. “Look, I don’t know anyone like you. You know so much about all this stuff, and I really need some help. The Boy went missing, and I don’t know why. Will you help me figure it out?”

  Elena took a deep breath as if steeling herself for the conversation ahead. “When did this happen?”

  “The last time I saw him was on my front porch the day I saw you. He was at the reading, but the sage made him kind of strange.”

  “When you say he was at the reading, what do you mean?”

  “He was standing behind you, looking over your shoulder. I think you might have felt him. You shivered and looked behind you.”

  Elena perked up, suddenly very interested. “Seriously? I remember feeling suddenly cold, like someone had touched me with icy hands. Are you telling me that was your ghost?”