said. “There won’t be any more communications tonight.”
That was her line, Izzie thought. Why had Papa taken her line? Suddenly, she felt there was a spoon stirring her mind like a big kettle of soup. Papa rocked from side to side. Everyone was looking over at Clara and swaying. The table, the windows, the walls, all swaying.
“ The red rose on my pillow, Isaac.” The woman’s voice was clear, faraway and near at the same time.
Izzie looked around at the swaying seekers. Who spoke? It wasn’t Clara. It wasn’t Mrs. Mullen. Hands tingling, Izzie covered her ears as she felt herself slide from her chair towards the floor.
Nine
BILLY SPLASHED HIS WAY ACROSS THE CREEK and handed Izzie the wadded, soaked cloth. Water splattered onto the ground as she unfolded it. It was from the hem of Mamma’s everyday dress, from Mamma’s own homespun flax. Looking afraid, Billy pointed north along the lakeshore, “That way. There’s a capsized sailboat, but no sign of her.” He spun around and ran ahead to where he had just pointed. Izzie followed.
The shocking cold of wading across the freezing creek sent chills up through her legs, up into her chest and arms, then her head and neck. Drawing the cloth to her face, she breathed into it, but it wasn’t Mamma that she smelled—it was the lake, its fish, its murky underwater plants.
“ Show me where! Show me where!” She tried to yell to Billy, but the words stayed locked in her throat.
She arrived at a cove just behind Billy. An overturned sailboat’s hull rocked and slapped in the lake’s waves. It’s broken mast and sail floated near the shore twenty feet beyond them. There was no sign of Mamma except that more of her dress, stuck to the rudder, drifted in the water.
Billy called out, “Mamma, are you here?”
Izzie forged into the lake toward the hull, reached into the icy water, grabbed the side of the boat and, with all her strength, hoisted the hull far enough to look underneath. Nothing. She let the boat crash back down into the water. Glancing north, she tried to see farther along the shore, but pine trees and shrubs blocked her view. She began to slosh and run through the shallow, chilling water.
She tried to call, “Mamma! Mamma!” but she could only eke out a whisper. She crawled through a tight opening in some shrubs and arrived at another small inlet. At the far end was Mamma’s shape in the shallow water, face down, in her gray dress. Her long hair floated around her head like a silver fan.
“ Mamma!” Again, just a faint whisper.
Heart pounding, Izzie splashed her way to the body and knelt in the water. Grabbing Mamma’s dress near her shoulders, Izzie turned her mother over and propped her against some low rocks. Mamma’s face was blue and white, swollen, empty.
“ No, Mamma, no.”
Weeping, Izzie pulled her mother to her and embraced her. “Don’t be gone. Don’t be gone.”
Then Billy came and helped carry Mamma the short distance to the bank. They gently laid Mamma down on the oak leaves and pine needles, then both cried over her for a long, long time until all around them was quiet.
<><><>
IZZIE FELT SOMEONE FIRMLY GRIP HER WRIST and lift her arm away from Mamma. She jerked her hand back from the grasp and snapped open her eyes. A tall, slender man with wavy dark hair was sitting there, right there on the bed next to her. Who was he? Next to her, Euphora lay asleep struggling to breathe. At the foot of the bed, Mrs. Purcell stood watching them. A sad sense of seeing Mamma dead and swollen lingered in her heart as she looked around at everyone in the room. Her face was wet with tears and she was hot and sweating into her chemise, her throat agonizingly sore. Then she remembered being dizzy during the spirit circle and being carried home in Sam Weston’s carriage.
She was in Papa’s room now. When Papa and Clara got her back to the boardinghouse, she
That was her line, Izzie thought. Why had Papa taken her line? Suddenly, she felt there was a spoon stirring her mind like a big kettle of soup. Papa rocked from side to side. Everyone was looking over at Clara and swaying. The table, the windows, the walls, all swaying.
“ The red rose on my pillow, Isaac.” The woman’s voice was clear, faraway and near at the same time.
Izzie looked around at the swaying seekers. Who spoke? It wasn’t Clara. It wasn’t Mrs. Mullen. Hands tingling, Izzie covered her ears as she felt herself slide from her chair towards the floor.
Nine
BILLY SPLASHED HIS WAY ACROSS THE CREEK and handed Izzie the wadded, soaked cloth. Water splattered onto the ground as she unfolded it. It was from the hem of Mamma’s everyday dress, from Mamma’s own homespun flax. Looking afraid, Billy pointed north along the lakeshore, “That way. There’s a capsized sailboat, but no sign of her.” He spun around and ran ahead to where he had just pointed. Izzie followed.
The shocking cold of wading across the freezing creek sent chills up through her legs, up into her chest and arms, then her head and neck. Drawing the cloth to her face, she breathed into it, but it wasn’t Mamma that she smelled—it was the lake, its fish, its murky underwater plants.
“ Show me where! Show me where!” She tried to yell to Billy, but the words stayed locked in her throat.
She arrived at a cove just behind Billy. An overturned sailboat’s hull rocked and slapped in the lake’s waves. It’s broken mast and sail floated near the shore twenty feet beyond them. There was no sign of Mamma except that more of her dress, stuck to the rudder, drifted in the water.
Billy called out, “Mamma, are you here?”
Izzie forged into the lake toward the hull, reached into the icy water, grabbed the side of the boat and, with all her strength, hoisted the hull far enough to look underneath. Nothing. She let the boat crash back down into the water. Glancing north, she tried to see farther along the shore, but pine trees and shrubs blocked her view. She began to slosh and run through the shallow, chilling water.
She tried to call, “Mamma! Mamma!” but she could only eke out a whisper. She crawled through a tight opening in some shrubs and arrived at another small inlet. At the far end was Mamma’s shape in the shallow water, face down, in her gray dress. Her long hair floated around her head like a silver fan.
“ Mamma!” Again, just a faint whisper.
Heart pounding, Izzie splashed her way to the body and knelt in the water. Grabbing Mamma’s dress near her shoulders, Izzie turned her mother over and propped her against some low rocks. Mamma’s face was blue and white, swollen, empty.
“ No, Mamma, no.”
Weeping, Izzie pulled her mother to her and embraced her. “Don’t be gone. Don’t be gone.”
Then Billy came and helped carry Mamma the short distance to the bank. They gently laid Mamma down on the oak leaves and pine needles, then both cried over her for a long, long time until all around them was quiet.
<><><>
IZZIE FELT SOMEONE FIRMLY GRIP HER WRIST and lift her arm away from Mamma. She jerked her hand back from the grasp and snapped open her eyes. A tall, slender man with wavy dark hair was sitting there, right there on the bed next to her. Who was he? Next to her, Euphora lay asleep struggling to breathe. At the foot of the bed, Mrs. Purcell stood watching them. A sad sense of seeing Mamma dead and swollen lingered in her heart as she looked around at everyone in the room. Her face was wet with tears and she was hot and sweating into her chemise, her throat agonizingly sore. Then she remembered being dizzy during the spirit circle and being carried home in Sam Weston’s carriage.
She was in Papa’s room now. When Papa and Clara got her back to the boardinghouse, she
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