and soft again. “She didn’t know how to use her gift. You will. You will learn.” She hesitated a moment. “You will understand. Listen to these women. Learn from them.”
Feeling a cold draft at the back of her neck, Izzie turned to see if a window was open, but it wasn’t. Mamma’s spirit. Ridiculous. Did they think she was a half-wit? If she could show Clara this was a silly act, maybe Clara would see how foolish, how disrespectful, this all was. It wasn’t right to portray Mamma as present in some way. Mamma was lost to them forever. Lost. This is what mediums did—dangle the hope of eternal life at people who were deep in pain. An imaginary, delicious meal set before the hungry. It was plain cruel.
“Mrs. Fielding, may I ask Anna, or her spirit, a question to prove that my mother is really there?” Izzie asked.
“This kind of proof does not always work as one desires, Isabelle. You shouldn’t be disappointed if you don’t receive the message you are seeking. It can take many attempts before the proof, as you say, is satisfactory.”
“I’d like to try.”
“All right.” Mrs. Fielding looked at Anna who still had her eyes closed and head tilted up. “She can hear you.”
Izzie had to ask something that only Mamma could know. The white horse. That hot summer night back in Homer when Clara was little. Clara refused to use the chamber pot in the house and insisted that Izzie escort her to the privy in the backyard. It was a starry night with a crescent moon and just enough light to see by. When they were nearly to the privy, they heard strange, hollow breathing and snorting. Alarmed, they grabbed each other and squealed. Not twenty feet from them, a white horse, luminous and eerie, pounded frantically out of the bushes. It reared up, then darted off, its hooves thundering as it sped around the side of their little house. After it left, it took Izzie until dawn to calm Clara down.
“Mamma, can you hear me?”
“Clearly, like a bird in the early evening, Isabelle.”
“Do you remember that night when Clara was only three and I took her to the privy? There was an animal out there and we scared it just as much as it scared us. Can you tell me what it was so that I’ll know this is really you, Mamma?”
Placing her hands over her chest, Anna stilled. There was no way Anna could answer this question, absolutely none.
“You mean that old white horse that broke loose?”
Every hair root on Izzie’s scalp prickled. The back of her hands tingled. Leaning back in her chair, she noticed that Clara’s precious brown eyes were petrified and she was sitting up so tall it seemed she was going to levitate.
The mean monster horsey was all she talked about for weeks and weeks after that night.
Anna patted her chest lightly. “I love you both. Do not worry about me. I am not in pain. It’s beautiful here in Summerland.”
Izzie was dumbfounded. This wasn’t possible. They couldn’t know about the white horse. Could they?
Clara, whose eyes were now more fearful than surprised, looked up at Mrs. Fielding, who was standing between them and smiling brilliantly.
“Do you see Mamma, Mrs. Fielding? What’s Summerland?” Clara asked.
“Shhh. Wait.” Mrs. Fielding lifted a finger to her lips.
Anna stepped away from the table, then began to pace back and forth. Suddenly she froze and looked straight at Izzie.
“There are many who want to talk to you.”
The prickling sensation on Izzie’s scalp shot down her spine. “Who are they?”
“I’m not sure. There’s a large group all asking to be heard. It’s confusing me.” She stood motionless and appeared to be listening to something.
“Whoever they are, I don’t want to talk to them,” Izzie said.
“Wait,” Mrs. Fielding said.
Anna was breathing steadily and looking off at some point high on the wall. Several moments passed. Izzie was
Feeling a cold draft at the back of her neck, Izzie turned to see if a window was open, but it wasn’t. Mamma’s spirit. Ridiculous. Did they think she was a half-wit? If she could show Clara this was a silly act, maybe Clara would see how foolish, how disrespectful, this all was. It wasn’t right to portray Mamma as present in some way. Mamma was lost to them forever. Lost. This is what mediums did—dangle the hope of eternal life at people who were deep in pain. An imaginary, delicious meal set before the hungry. It was plain cruel.
“Mrs. Fielding, may I ask Anna, or her spirit, a question to prove that my mother is really there?” Izzie asked.
“This kind of proof does not always work as one desires, Isabelle. You shouldn’t be disappointed if you don’t receive the message you are seeking. It can take many attempts before the proof, as you say, is satisfactory.”
“I’d like to try.”
“All right.” Mrs. Fielding looked at Anna who still had her eyes closed and head tilted up. “She can hear you.”
Izzie had to ask something that only Mamma could know. The white horse. That hot summer night back in Homer when Clara was little. Clara refused to use the chamber pot in the house and insisted that Izzie escort her to the privy in the backyard. It was a starry night with a crescent moon and just enough light to see by. When they were nearly to the privy, they heard strange, hollow breathing and snorting. Alarmed, they grabbed each other and squealed. Not twenty feet from them, a white horse, luminous and eerie, pounded frantically out of the bushes. It reared up, then darted off, its hooves thundering as it sped around the side of their little house. After it left, it took Izzie until dawn to calm Clara down.
“Mamma, can you hear me?”
“Clearly, like a bird in the early evening, Isabelle.”
“Do you remember that night when Clara was only three and I took her to the privy? There was an animal out there and we scared it just as much as it scared us. Can you tell me what it was so that I’ll know this is really you, Mamma?”
Placing her hands over her chest, Anna stilled. There was no way Anna could answer this question, absolutely none.
“You mean that old white horse that broke loose?”
Every hair root on Izzie’s scalp prickled. The back of her hands tingled. Leaning back in her chair, she noticed that Clara’s precious brown eyes were petrified and she was sitting up so tall it seemed she was going to levitate.
The mean monster horsey was all she talked about for weeks and weeks after that night.
Anna patted her chest lightly. “I love you both. Do not worry about me. I am not in pain. It’s beautiful here in Summerland.”
Izzie was dumbfounded. This wasn’t possible. They couldn’t know about the white horse. Could they?
Clara, whose eyes were now more fearful than surprised, looked up at Mrs. Fielding, who was standing between them and smiling brilliantly.
“Do you see Mamma, Mrs. Fielding? What’s Summerland?” Clara asked.
“Shhh. Wait.” Mrs. Fielding lifted a finger to her lips.
Anna stepped away from the table, then began to pace back and forth. Suddenly she froze and looked straight at Izzie.
“There are many who want to talk to you.”
The prickling sensation on Izzie’s scalp shot down her spine. “Who are they?”
“I’m not sure. There’s a large group all asking to be heard. It’s confusing me.” She stood motionless and appeared to be listening to something.
“Whoever they are, I don’t want to talk to them,” Izzie said.
“Wait,” Mrs. Fielding said.
Anna was breathing steadily and looking off at some point high on the wall. Several moments passed. Izzie was
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