Spirit Eyes (3 page)

“One day our little ones were amusing themselves on the playground with all the other children, laughing and being silly and the next they are told to stay off the swings and to not sit on the benches. All the Jewish children were told to stay home from the schools.” A melancholy washed over her confused expression. Her wrinkled hand wrapped tightly around a cloth napkin, the only indication of the immense trauma she was remembering.

She shook her head. “Ahh, I cannot go there right now. I’m sorry.”

“No, please don’t apologize. I understand.”

“I missed out on having a mother,” Ruth said sadly. “You remind me of what I’ve missed. But, if she were alive, I’d tell her something about my youngest daughter. If I tell you, please promise not to think me insane.”

“I’ll try.” Mrs. Schuster smiled, the crows-feet in a face that had not only seen its share of rain, but also sun, making her appear even more beautiful.

“My youngest daughter, Pearl, she sees a man in our driveway, but no one else can see him.”

Mrs. Schuster leaned back and crossed her arms.

“Hmm? How long has this been going on?”

“A while now. But she only told me about it this morning.”

“And she is frightened of him?”

“Yes—I mean, I don’t really know.”

“It is not unheard of. I’ve known gypsies in the old country who swore they could talk to the dead. I’m not a firm believer, but that is not to say that I don’t think it possible.” She sat straight, reached and took Ruth’s hands in her own care worn ones. “You must believe your daughter. She wouldn’t lie about something like that. Listen to her, but be warned. Evil energy takes many forms. When evil of the flesh dies, the evil energy takes on a new appearance. Be careful, but be brave. Loving energy takes many shapes and that, too, surrounds us.”

At that, Ruth bid goodbye to a woman she had fallen in love with. A woman anyone would be proud to call mother.

The minute she got home, she walked into their wide foyer and sat on the bottom step of the staircase. Excruciatingly aware something unexplainable was occurring, she put her head in her hands, her mind swirling with racing thoughts.

She noticed her purse next to her, reached into it, grabbed her cell phone and called her friend.

“Laura, hi, it’s me.” After explaining the morning’s experiences, she took a deep breath and waited for Laura’s input. “I’m freaking out here. I mean, what the hell?”

“Okay,” Laura said. “You’ve never heard of imaginary friends?”

“Yeah, sure, everyone has.” Ruth’s arm rose in exasperation. Determined not to let this get the best of her, she took a deep breath. “But how many kids have an old man in a gray suit for a friend? Why couldn’t she have like—oh, I don’t know, maybe a little bunny named Peaches she has tea parties with, or a cute fairy that helps her with her homework?”

“Good Lord, Ruth, the kid thinks she saw some guy. If you’re so upset, take her to the doctor. You told me yourself she said her eyes hurt lately and she’s been squinting. She probably saw the mailman and needs glasses.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right. I just…” She shivered and felt the flesh on the back of her neck crawl. “I hate anything to do with this crap. You know that.”

“I thought you just didn’t believe in it.”

“That, too,” she said. She could tell Laura was doing her best to reassure her.

“Pearl is the most charming, outgoing, normal kid I’ve ever met. She’s hysterical and has a good head on her shoulders. Quit freaking out.”

“Okay. I’ll try—Oh, my, God!” At that moment, Ruth remembered the night of Laura’s party eight years before and what the psychic had said. “That lady, that Sheila the Shaman you had at your house. She told me that ancestors would surround my kid. Do you think this has something to do with that? She said she’d have spirit eyes.”

“You’re right. I forgot about that. But was this an Asian old man in a gray suit?”

“I don’t know. It never occurred to me to ask her.” Ruth rubbed her eyes. “Could you call that Sheila lady and—”

“Ruth, please, chill out and see what happens next. I’m not going to call her for that. See if anything else happens, and for goodness sake, take her to the eye doctor.”

Ruth let out a long, hollow, sigh. “Yeah, okay. Maybe you’re right. I’ll um—try not to talk about it again to Pearl.”

“I think that’s best. She’s only mentioned it once, right?”

“She did say she’s seen him before, though.”

“But she never told you?”

“No.”

“Let it pass.” Laura’s voice, casual, didn’t help her anxiety. On the contrary, after she hung up, it brought out the frightening truth of how alone she felt.

Rising, she strolled into the kitchen to make another pot of coffee. She removed the old filter from the machine and started to throw it into the garbage—there, in the trash, was the box of cupcakes, smashed. She opened the lid and saw the remains of the sweet treats. She removed the garbage bag, tied it up and threw it out the back door.

What is going on?

Later that day, she picked the girls up from school.

“Mommy.” Pearl hopped into the back of the van. “Mr. Phillips hates me. He said I talk too much and he gave me a detention. He blows.” She hooked her seatbelt and leaned her head back in obvious exasperation.

“How many detentions does that make now?” Ruth asked. “And don’t say
blows
.”

“Six,” Lotus said.

“Mind your own beeswax,” Pearl mumbled.

“Mother, I’ve gone through school and never once had a detention, and yet little Miss Mouth here gets at least one a month. And is she punished? No.”

“Mind your own business, Stupid.”

“Pearl!” Ruth snapped. “I’ve told you a million times not to call her
stupid
.”

“Yeah,” Lotus said. “I’m an A-plus student, if you don’t remember. You’re the one hanging onto a thread of dangling C’s. So, that means I’m smart enough to know I’m not the stupid one, you are.”

Ruth’s flesh crawled at their incessant bickering. “Knock it off.” She let out a deep sigh, blatantly aware that the man-in-the-driveway episode was playing havoc with her mood. “Did everyone like the cupcakes?” she asked, trying to sound calm.

“Yes, but I’m sure mad that I let Mr. Phillips have one. He’s so mean. And Celina Tucker said they were
okay, for store bought
. She’s such a little brat.”

Ruth maneuvered the van out of the parking spot in front of the school and turned onto Park Street.

Defiantly, Pearl continued the argument with her sister. “By the way, Lotus, I have more important things to do than study.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she screamed, “Mom, stop! Watch out.”

Shocked, Ruth slammed on the brakes and came to a standstill. “What the hell?” she shouted.

“You almost hit her,” Pearl said.

“Hit who? For God’s sake, Pearl, there’s no one in the street.”

A car behind them beeped and after checking around to be sure it was clear, Ruth stepped on the gas.

“What’s wrong with you?” Lotus said.

“I saw a girl in the road.”

Exasperated, Ruth moaned. “That’s it. When we get home I’m calling Dr. Conley. You need your eyes checked.”

“Is that why I keep seeing people, Mom? Is it just cuz I need my eyes checked?”

“What are you talking about?” Lotus quizzed, suddenly appearing interested in her sister as something more than a buffoon to berate.

“Nothing.” Pearl laid her head back once again.

“I’m always the last one to hear about anything in this family.” Lotus dramatically opened a book to read.

“There’s nothing to hear,” Ruth said. “Your sister needs her eyes checked. Sorry I didn’t run it by you first.”

“What’s for dinner?” Lotus asked, changing the course of the conversation, much to Pearl’s relief, or at least that’s what Ruth saw when she looked at her daughter’s sad face in the rearview mirror.

“Chicken,” Ruth said. “Pearl’s favorite.”

“Chicken and what?” Lotus asked. “Fear,” Ruth whispered to herself. “We’re having a heaping bowl of fear.”

“Daddy’s home.” Pearl came around the corner, into the kitchen and grabbed a few croutons out of the salad.

“Don’t do that,” Ruth said. “And if you
must
do that, at least eat a carrot.”

Pearl grabbed a small carrot. With it lying in one palm, and the croutons in the other, she pretended to weigh them. “Croutons or carrot? Croutons or carrot?” She popped the croutons in her mouth and threw the carrot back into the bowl. “Croutons won,” she said.

Paul walked in and gave both his wife and then Pearl a kiss. “Mmm, smells good, I’ll be down in a second.”

Ruth told Pearl to keep an eye on things and not let Puddles get anything off the counter or she’d have no birthday cake for dessert. She followed Paul upstairs and quickly filled him in on the experience of the morning and on the ride home. He answered exactly as she suspected.

“Ruth. Hello? She’s doing it strictly for attention. Plain and simple. The more we ignore it, the quicker it will go away.”

“I don’t think so. You weren’t there. She was scared. Her face was white as a sheet. I have no doubt she saw something.” Ruth’s inward impatience bubbled to the surface.

Paul removed his tie and sat on the bed to take off his shoes. “Come on. So you think she’s seeing ghosts? Get real. We’ll keep an eye on it, but please, don’t play into it.”

His inflexibility didn’t surprise her. What did she expect from a scientist? But again, that lonely fear surrounded her.

Dinners were usually a raucous affair in the Adler home. That evening, however, proved awkward. The sound of cutlery hitting glass plates, a sound Ruth detested her entire life, frustrated her. She’d developed this dislike growing up with a father that insisted on no talking during meals, and his word was law. It was just the two of them, and it was lonely. That was why she liked loud, happy conversation and playful banter during their meals. Stickin’ it to da man, in a way.

Pearl, in her infinite babbling way, finally spoke up. “Mommy, me and my friends were sitting on the concrete at recess and Peter McMillan said he knew where babies came from. He said he heard his mom and dad moving around and making funny noises under the blankets one morning when they didn’t know he was there and his older brother told him later that they were making babies.”

Ruth, stifling a giggle, looked over at Paul, who himself seemed on the verge of laughter.

“What did you say to him?” Paul asked nonchalantly.

“I told him he was as dumb as a doorknob. I told him that you guys already told me where babies come from and you don’t do it in bed making funny noises.”

“Well, good for you, kiddo,” Ruth interjected.

Completely loving this conversation, Lotus asked her sister, “So, smarty-pants, where do they come from?”

“Duh…China, stupid, they come from China.”

Lotus burst out laughing and shook her head.

Pearl continued. “Billy Morton said everything is made in China now-a-days and that’s ‘zactly right. I was.”

“Well, honey not all babies are made in China, some are made here, too,” Paul said.

Ruth, wishing now to stop the conversation at hand, cleared her throat and asked Paul how his day went. He passed her the potatoes and smiled. “Okay, I guess, but I need a break. It’s a long weekend ahead. I’m thinking why don’t we go to the cottage? I’m sure the river’s frozen enough to skate.”

Clink. That dreadful sound.

“Hello? Am I talking to myself?” he asked.

Lotus spoke up. “No, Daddy,” she said quietly. “I don’t like the cottage in the cold weather.”

He gulped a glass of milk, put it down and smiled at Lotus. “It’s not cold when I turn on the space heaters and start a fire. It’s cozy. Come on. It’ll be fun.”

Ruth contemplated this and came to the conclusion that a weekend away might be what her family needed.

She came to Paul’s rescue. “Why not, girls? We can bring hot chocolate and even make our smack down, salacious, super fantastic
smores
.”

“Wow, Mom,” Lotus said. “You never want to go to the cottage.”

“I do, too.”

“Uh uh,” she responded.

Paul’s gaze moved toward Lotus. “Do you always have to be so argumentative, young lady?”

“Yep,” Pearl answered for her. She tipped her head back and threw a crouton into her mouth.

Paul picked a piece from his roll and threw it at her, which gave Pearl enough rope to scream, “Food fight.” She seized a handful of mashed potatoes and aimed.

“Bull!” Ruth shouted. She grabbed Pearl’s wrist, lowered her hand and prayed silently for strength.

That night, a Thursday, Ruth packed a few things for their long weekend. Their summer cottage, about an hour and a half drive away, was situated on the edge of the Vermilion River. Far enough away to feel they had left on a short holiday.

With a suitcase on her bed and piles of clothes to go into it, she attempted the process neatly. A bit of a slob, Ruth envied people with Obsessive Compulsive Disorders as she put everyone’s clothes in their own pile, but soon, as always, started to throw things in haphazardly.

Pearl came around the corner, newly showered, wearing a nightgown that read,
Well Behaved Women Rarely Make History
, a present from her aunt, and lay across the bed. She rolled onto her stomach and Ruth sensed she had something she wanted to talk about, so she pushed the suitcase aside and lay next to her. Gently, her arm around her daughter’s tiny waist, she pulled her close.

“What is it, honey?”

“I don’t like the people, Mommy.”

“Who?” she asked, confused.

“My people.”

“Are you talking about the man in the driveway?”

“Yeah.”

Not sure what to say next, Ruth, always frightened of anything paranormal, wished she could channel a spirit guide or someone to help her.

“How often have you seen the man…the man in the driveway?”

“Bunches of times.”

“Is he Asian?”

“No. He’s white.”

“Do you see anyone else?”

She nodded and played with her mother’s hair.