The summer heat sticks to Elizabeth’s forehead as she saunters by the iron fence beside the main road. She slumps her shoulders, sighing. The only exciting thing on the sidewalk is a pine cone, which Elizabeth kicks, watching it roll from side to side as she continues. There is nothing for her in this town, save for her new friend, Mr. Pine Cone. She wishes that she is back in Talisheek, taking in the warm summer air as she wades her feet in the lake near her home. She knows, without a doubt, that moving to Madison Lake is breaking her heart, bit by bit. Hot, stinging tears well as she sniffles.

How far is it from Madison Lake to Talisheek? I can’t remember. It can’t be that far.

The parade of homes that stretch down Main Street are different, too different from the homes she’s used to. Little shacks and scatters of farmhouses are her comfort, her joy. The homes here look befitting of the wealthiest people. Her heart sinks. Though they look resplendent to the eyes, there is something missing. There is the lack of character that she longs for in what she considers a good home. Besides, these homes are far too close to the road — and to each other. She feels cramped even looking at them. How can children of her age even play outside? She glares, thinking of her own home. Where are all the children? This town is far too silent, save for the automobiles that are occasionally barreling down the road, honking at her when they notice her presence on the sidewalk. They leave traces of dust — mucking up Elizabeth’s gown.

She realizes that this dress is too nice for an outing like this. Her mother is right. She frowns, but continues on her walk.

Elizabeth stops in her path. There is an old mansion, perhaps once white in better, more glorious days. Even though it is still standing tall and erect, there is an air of blackness all around it. Elizabeth cannot tear her gaze away from it — even for a moment. She studies it so intensely, that she is afraid that it will crumble to bits. That some terrible disaster will occur and it will fall to the ground. Though it is derelict, with cans and litter scattered over the property leading up to her feet, she comes to the conclusion that the mansion is abandoned. Elizabeth gasps, curiosity filling up in her mind. What if someone is still living in the home? She conjures a monster in her mind, prowling about the corridors of this home. This monster is preying o n all the vermin that dwell within its walls. Her heart races at the disgust of it all, but the excitement is overtaking her intellect. She cannot think of anything else. This mansion is the best thing she has seen since she has moved to this God-forsaken town. All of her sorrow seems to wash away with the thought of sneaking her way inside this place. What goodies must be in it. Treasures, pictures, things that probably have been abandoned for centuries must be in there. Maybe she could take some of these things and bring it to Ma. That way, Ma can afford to pay for coffee beans; or even flour.

She is now standing at the front gate, the handle broken and the lamps on both sides are cracked. There are bird’s nests inside them.Spider webs on the inside of the bars. Elizabeth studies their intricacies and smiles. Spiders fascinate her and she actively searches for the bug so she can study it with her own eyes. There is no trace of an insect. She slumps her shoulders and brings her gaze back to the mansion.

Should I open the gate? If I go in, I’ll be late for supper… But I want to see what’s in here! It wouldn’t hurt to go in. Would it? Elizabeth thinks as she bites her lip.

She almost acts on her desire, but someone coming from the left comes into her periphery. She turns to see the figure of a man approaching her. He is tall, dark-skinned and is carrying a small dog that looks like she is from the North Pole. She is puffy, like white snow. As the man comes closer, Elizabeth gulps. Is he going to shoo her away? The look in his eyes tells her the affirmative. Another, perhaps more grim idea crosses her mind. What if he is the owner of this land? Her eyes widen at the thought.

“Excuse me, young miss,” he says when he is finally close enough to speak directly to her.

“Yes?” she says, feeling faint. Her heart is thundering.

The dog looks at her with its small, almond brown eyes. It seems as if the creature is smiling at her, with its tongue hanging out, her panting rhythmic. The dog began limping closer to her feet, whimpering as it looks up. It is one of the first things that Elizabeth notices about this dog — its limp.

“Celie,” the man says, “Calm down.”

“H-hello, puppy!” Elizabeth says, bringing her knees down to the dog’s level.

“Celie loves to be pet,” he says.

“She does?” Elizabeth smiles, gently stroking the dog’s back with her trembling hands.

“Of course. Celie’s a sweet dog. Say, what is a girl your age doin’ out here? The sun’s just about to set. Shouldn’t you be at home with yer parents?”

Elizabeth looks up at the sky. Sure enough, the man is correct.

“God’s painting the sky!” she exclaims.

The other man cocks his head, looking at her for an explanation. “Heh?”

“Oh,” Elizabeth says, standing up after finishing her interaction with Celie. “My Ma is always sayin’ when the sun’s about to go to sleep, that God’s painting the sky! Don’t you see?”

Elizabeth points out the way the blues, purples and oranges mix together in the sky. She tells him how this time is when God is painting.

“It’s like a gift, my Ma says. It’s God’s present to us for the day. So that we can have the memory in our minds before we go to bed.”

“Hmm,” he says, nodding in understanding. “Yer Ma seems like a wise lady.”

Elizabeth nods. “I think she is. I really do.” Elizabeth turns her gaze to the mansion.

“Curious about it?” he asks.

She nods, a smile forming at her lips.

“Best stay away though.”

“I was only —”

He smiles, shakes his head. “I know what you kids want. Y’all wanna go in and see the place. There ain’t nothing worth anything in there.”

“But what it this place?” Elizabeth asks, the curiosity of it all too much to bear. This man obviously knows something. He can tell her about it.

The man ignores her question, making Elizabeth even more irritated and frustrated than before the conversation with him.

“You should go on home now. There’s nothing to see here.” The look in his eyes, is serious. Almost like he’s giving her a warning.

Her eyes widen as she looks up at him. “Is it… haunted?”

He exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “You ask too many questions. Go on home.”

“I suppose so…” She doesn’t meet his eyes. “But I kinda forgot where home is…”

“How can you forget your own home?”

“I just moved here, sir. I dunno where anything is…”

“Any idea which direction?”

She stops, points her finger in one direction, then in the other. She blinks several times, thinking long and hard about it. She bites her lips, trying to come up with the memory in her mind’s eye, but her visual is too muddled with the image of the mansion. It is too strong in her mind.

“I’ll just walk you home, then.”

Elizabeth nods, allowing herself to walk on his right side. Celie, the dog, whimpers again, rubbing her face against Elizabeth’s leg. She giggles at the tickling sensation and looks down at the creature.

“She wants you to hold her.” He says, his gaze still facing forward.

“She does?”

“Celie’s lame. It’s hard for her to walk. She’s used to being held. She definitely ain’t gonna bitecha.”

They both continue walking down the road. Soon, they pass an oak tree behind a white picket fence. The homes are beginning to look more familiar to her. The home near the oak tree is redolent of a home in Talisheek, one that Elizabeth thinks of with fondness. It’s a beautiful home. Rustic. Lovely in personality. Flowers are lined up neat along the pathway which leads to the front steps of the home. The two-level home must have so many stories to tell.

“That’s my house,” he says.

“It is?”

“Yep,” he nods, the action languid. “Born and raised in that very home.”

“It’s nice.” Elizabeth smiles. “It reminds me of Talisheek.”

“That’s where you’re from?” He nods and smiles. “My Ma was born there. She still lives with me.”

Elizabeth smiles and says, “Really? What’s her name?”

“Evelyn. Evelyn Guillory. Though her maiden name is Augustin…”

“Oh. I don’t know any of those names.” She frowns, the familiar name she hopes for never escapes from the mouth of this man walking with her.

“And your name?”

“Paul.”

“Alright,” she says.

A soft breeze from the river kisses Elizabeth’s face as they continue walking down the sidewalk. It is nice that the sun is finally setting and it is cooling down. Still, Elizabet is pining for Talisheek. For its comfort, its security. This new place, even though the mansion is the only thing worth thinking of, is something tht she feels she will never be accustomed to — no matter how hard she tries to acclimate herself to these new surroundings. She looks up and feels the breeze again — the leaves of the trees are gently swaying, as if dancing. She closes her eyes just for a moment and pretends. Pretends that she is not in Madison Lake. She is home now. She imagines herself walking up to her front porch, seeing her Father reading the newspaper as he is smoking his pipe, the puffs rhythmic. She can almost smell it — that manly aroma that she connects with her father’s almost indelible presence.

Then, without warning, her comforting image fades into that of the mansion. Its ugliness, the spider web, the birds nest all amalgamate together, forming new thoughts. She quickly opens her eyes and once again, that innate curiosity is building up and swelling within her. If only there was a way that she could get inside the place — without this Mr. Paul man knowing about it.

But as she realizes how late it is getting, she knows that opportunity is hopeless. Maybe another time. Maybe another time.

***

“There it is, sir.” She points to the house she recognizes as her own.

“The one behind that oak tree?”

“Yup.”

Once they are both on the front porch, the man knocks twice on the door. The first time, there is no response. He tries again. The door opens.

He clears his throat and says, “Hello, ma’am. I’m Paul Guillory. Terribly sorry to disturb ya, but I have your child here. Found her walkin’ the streets alone. And she got herself lost.”

She opens the door and Elizabeth listens to the familiar, low, almost guttural groan the door makes. Her mother walks out, her hair a shambles and her eyes bloodshot. She glares at her and Elizabeth feels the burn singing into her body — no, her soul. She gulps, thinking of several explanations as to why she is here with Mr. Paul Guillory. But she cannot come up with a single one.

“Care to explain, Beth? Care to explain why you left the house when I told ya not to? You know it’s Saturday, child. It’s baking day — and I needed your help in the kitchen. I can’t do it on my own. You know that. And what on God’s earth were you doin? Look at your dress! Your brand new dress that I spent hours stitchin’ up for you. Look at it.” There are tears clouding her mother’s eyes.

Elizabeth’s insides contort. The lump is rising to her throat. “I — I’m s-sorry, Ma…” She hangs her head low, not meeting her mother’s gaze.

Her nostrils flare as she bites her lower lip. “You better be sorry. Now thank you, Mr. —”

“Guillory. Paul Guillory, ma’am. I’m sorry to be an inconvenience. I only thought it right to bring your daughter safely home.”

“Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

“Goodbye,” he says, smiling, nodding his head.

“No,” Elizabeth’s mother says, looking at him, “please stay. Would you like some fresh brewed sweet tea? It’s already been iced. You can bring your pup in too.”

“Well, I appreciate the kindness but —”

“Oh don’t worry about it, it’s alright then.”

“No, you know, I suppose I could stay for tea.”

Elizabeth walks in quickly, imagining herself drinking tea. She’s always adored the way her mother prepares iced tea. When her lips meet the cold liquid, it is like heaven enters the room, even if it just for a few moments. Her mouth begins to water.

“Beth, you don’t get any. And you know why.”

Just when she thinks she’s getting off easy. She slumps her shoulders, ambling down the foyer and making her way towards the kitchen area. The aroma of fresh biscuits brings her right back to Talisheek. Elizabeth bites her lips and closes her eyes. Why did this have to happen again? Why did she have to miss it so dreadfully? Elizabeth remembers the music her father would play. Scott Joplin and his Maple Leaf Rag. It is almost like she can hear it, distantly, in her ears. As if her father is playing piano in some other room. But it is impossible — they have no piano. Her heart sinks at the thought.

“Y’all have a piano?” Elizabeth hears Mr. Guillory ask.

“No, it’s a Decca Portable. We don’t have a piano at the momet. It’s coming in from Covington. It belonged to my —”

Elizabeth watches her mother stop, bite her lip and say nothing at all. The Maple Leaf Rag fades into Entertainer. Elizabeth, while standing against the wall, taps her fingers against her knee. She closes her eyes, imagining herself sitting next to her father, tickling the ivories with him. She sees his smiling face, his words of encouragement, words of pride for his only child. She cannot help but smile.

As she loses herself more in the moment, her minds naturally falls to the mansion. The thought that someone dwells inside there makes Elizabeth want to march right out the door and find the mansion again. But why does Mr. Guillory not want her to go inside?

“Elizabeth!” Her mother’s voice drowned her thoughts. “Tend to the man and give him a glass of tea. What are you doing just standing there? I wish your Pa never got that darn Decca. You and him both.” She shakes her head and turns away, raking her hands through the top of her head. She is trembling, breathing deep.

“Ma, your hair is messy now.”

“I suppose it is,” she says. “Can you get that glass to Mr. Guillory? He’s waitin’ for it.”

“Yes, Ma,” she says, nodding as she walks to the cupboard to retrieve a glass. “Is he in the dining room?”

“Living area, I think.”

Elizabeth hears her mutter something under her breath. “Did you say something?”

Her mother shakes her head, her eyes not facing her daughter. Elizabeth, glass in hand, watches her mother walk past the table and looks out the window. The sun has finally set. Elizabeth frowns at the thought of God no longer painting the sky. Instead, it will be black soon. Elizabeth hates the night — more than hate. She wishes it could die a brutal death several times over. That way the sun would always stay in the sky — and both she and her mother would be happy all the time. Not this. She hates seeing her mother, standing outside the window, looking at the sky, just waiting for the sky to become nothing. Elizabeth isn’t even expecting that there will be visible stars in the sky.

“Ma,” Elizabeth says. “Can’t you come with me?”

Her mother remains standing there like a statue.

“Ma?”

There is still no answer. Elizabeth thinks that it is hopeless. She walks out of the area and into the room where Mr. Guillory is seated. He is scoping the room with his eyes.

“Here’s your tea.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widen when she notices where he’s sitting. She knows that chair like the back of her hand. It is the same chair that belongs to her father. She marches and says, “Hey, you’re not supposed to be sitting here!”

Elizabeth’s eyes are filling up with hot tears.

“Why not?” his eyes show confusion mixed with shock.

“Because that’s my Pa’s chair!” She stomps one foot in front of the other and points to him. “No one sits there but Pa!”

“Elizabeth!” her mother’s sharp voice enters into the room. Her voice almost stabs Elizabeth in her side. She looks at her mother with wide eyes. Her mother grabs her by the shoulders. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the confusion, sir. You may sit there, if you’d like.”

“No,” he said, standing up. “It’s my fault. I had no idea. And I’ve definitely overstayed my welcome. I hope you both have a great evening. And little girl,” he says, pointing at her, stomping, as if mocking her from earlier, “don’t you go in that mansion, now. Ya hear?”

“Yes sir,” Elizabeth mutters.

Mr. Guillory says his goodbyes with Celie in his arms. He is outside within minutes. It is at this time that Elizabeth feels her mother is going to tell her. She is only waiting for that moment where she turns, looks at her with an intensity of ten-thousand suns and says those dreaded words.

“Never do that again. You are grounded.” Her mother’s back is not facing her.

“Y-yes, Ma.”

“What could have happened to you, huh?” she asks.

“Ma, I was just out walking.”

“No. You could have been injured. You could have gotten yourself lost for more than a few hours, had Mr. Guillory not come in.”

“But Ma, I really was just having lots of fun. It’s boring here in Madison Lake. I just —”

“No!”

“Don’t be like this, please…”

“Don’t you have any idea what would happen if I lost you?” Her mother brings her daughter to her chest. Elizabeth feels her mother’s chest heaving she she sobs, those kinds of silent ones. Elizabeth remembers something that her grandmother told her before she passed back in 1927.

“Elizabeth, when someone is sobbing all quiet like it means that they’re soul’s hurting. If you ever experience this, hug that person and let them know it’s going to be alright.

“Ma?” Elizabeth’s lips tremble. “Is it ‘cause, ‘cause of P-Pa?”

Elizabeth disentangles herself from her mother’s embrace. Her mother says nothing, but brings herself to her knees and rocks herself gently. Her sobs are no longer quiet. They are loud enough that Elizabeth soon feels the trickles of tears in her eyes turn into rivers. Nothing else is said between the two of them.

As Elizabeth lays down for bed, she thinks of her father. If he hadn’t died, would he have still moved to Madison Lake with both of them?

“Pa,” Elizabeth whispers. “If you’re up there, please make Ma happy. Please make her wishes come true and come back to us.”

The morning sun, in mustard yellow tones, peeps into Elizabeth’s room. The sky is that kind of blue that always gives Elizabeth calm. The blue that makes her want to lay on the grass and stare upwards all day long, but she knows, that today it is not possible to do so. Elizabeth lay in her bed, her eyes on the ceiling. She wants to imagine that above her that there is the sky, but all she feels in her heart is the dark, starless night. Her lips tremble. She wishes that this were easier. Pa’s absence leaves a hole in her heart, one that can’t be filled — ever. She exhales, each breath heavier than the last. Her heart feels as if it has been ripped out of her chest — the searing pain at the acknowledgment of her father’s death is almost too much to bear.

She remembers the days of her early childhood. Pa helping her reach for a book. Not just any book, but sketches belonging to her father. She remembers his scent after smoking his evening pipe, his honey-brown baritone voice. Him holding her in her arms after a bad dream. The cooking of fried chicken, wafting through the entire house and making everyone else hungry. His fiddle, reaching the ears of the neighbors, and them knocking on the door to listen in. Her father, even now, as his presence is no longer there, feels more alive than ever in her heart. He, no matter what, is still holding her after those bad dreams and when she closes her eyes — he is still omnipresent.

Elizabeth cannot help but wonder what her mother is thinking about. Is she thinking of him? Is her mother mourning him as profoundly as her? She thinks that Ma is angry, but doesn’t quite understand why. Shouldn’t she be sad instead of angry? Isn’t death supposed to make people cry and not scream and yell every day? Elizabeth frowns, slumping her shoulders, picking her knees up.

I wish there was a clear answer. I wish that none of this ever happened. Moving wasn’t a good idea. Look how mad Ma is. I just wanna go back to Talisheek. I know Ma doesn’t want to. She’s told me that several times. And she’ll tell me several times over. But I just gotta try every time. I just gotta.

There is a knock on the door. Elizabeth sits up and says, “Yeah?”

“Are you gettin’ ready for church?”

Elizabeth lets out a gasp. She dashes from her bed and opens the door, watching her mother standing in her Sunday best. A cream colored frock. Elizabeth cannot believe that her mother is wearing that cream colored frock. Shouldn’t she be wearing black still?

“Ma,” Elizabeth says, her voice just above a whisper. “Shouldn’t you be wearin’… something else?”

“And shouldn’t you be wearing something else too? Why are you still in your nightgown? It’s eight o’clock in the mornin’, child! Get your clothes on.”

“Why are you wearin’ that dress?” Elizabeth furrows her eyebrows, narrowing her eyes.

“Beth,” she says. “It’s been a year since your Pa died. I know it seems like shorter than that, but your Pa left us this house and it was part of his will. I love your Pa so much, but I can’t spend every day grievin’. I’ll die if I do.”

Elizabeth glares. “And you’ll die if you don’t.” She shakes her head. “Are you forgetting him already?” She turns her head, wiping away a single tear.

“It’s time to get ready for church.”

“No!” She shakes her head. “I don’t wanna go to church. I don’t wanna.”

Her mother glares. “You’re gonna go cause it’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“But Ma,” she whines. “Why can’t I just stay in bed? I don’t feel like going anywhere.”

“You’re gonna go. ‘Cause I told you, I told you you have to go. I’m your Ma — and you need to listen to me. You ain’t a heathen.” Her voice is red. Her eyes are fire.

Elizabeth’s blood freezes over. “Y-yes… Ma. I’ll go.”

Her mother takes in a deep breath and she walks away. Elizabeth stays standing as she hears the sound of her mother’s foot pace down the hall. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. It is constant, unwavering. Heartbreaking to Elizabeth. She knows that there is something amiss, but what kills her even more is that she is too young. Too young for her mother to just sit down with her and have a heart-to-heart like most adults do. She sighs, wishing if there are magic moments, she will choose this one to become an adult and finally understand her mother’s heart.

She opens the door to her wardrobe and chooses the dress that she thinks will be best for churchgoing, having ruined the dress from the day before. As she puts on her slip, the events of yesterday come rolling into her mind like a steam locomotive: powerful and dominant. The mansion is first in her mind again.

What is in that place?

Why is she so attracted to it? What if there really is a monster dwelling inside? The possibilities send shivers though her entire body and her pulse quickens. She is beginning to think that there could be a way into the mansion after all. And she could do it without her mother noticing. Elizabeth, finally putting the dress on, looks at herself in front of her mirror with a smirk on her freckled, pale face. She comes to the decision she’ll do it after church.

***

Ma has no car so they both have to travel by foot. Immediately, Elizabeth regrets the decision to wear her black dress to church. Is this why her mother is wearing her cream-colored gown? Elizabeth sighs, feeling like a cooking egg as the sun is burning into her back.

As soon as they get inside the church, Elizabeth sits in the pew. Ma sits still, while Elizabeth swings her legs back and forth, indulging herself in humming.

“Elizabeth, why are you humming that devil’s music in the house of the Lord?”

“Ma, ragtime ain’t the devil’s music. Besides, it reminds me of Pa!”

She frowns and whispers, “Not in here.”

Tears begin to pool in Elizabeth’s eyes. Humming jazz in church is her way of communicating with her Pa’s spirit. Why is her mother taking that joy, the joy of his closeness away from her? Elizabeth sighs, the exhale, taking whatever little fire she has left out of her body.

“Yes, Ma.” She closes her eyes, still fighting back the tears that are begging to be released. “I’ll stop.” But inside, her mind is still humming. The music in her head is growing louder, bringing her spirit back. And she feels her father’s presence once again.

In her mind, she sees the woods of Talisheek. She imagines traveling in an automobile from Madison Lake, to Abita Springs — and ultimately home again. In the distance, there is a lawn tractor making its white hum. A sound that brings Elizabeth back to her home. Home sweet home. Her heart is melting at the smell of rising yeast that wafts through the kitchen. She sees Ma humming as she is cleaning up the mess she made after setting the dough to proof. This Ma is different. This Ma is someone with bright, sparkling diamond eyes and a voice that matches those of the angels. Elizabeth calls her Talisheek Ma. The one whom she used to know like the back of her hand. The one who is always there, looking in the background, mighty proud of the accomplishments her daughter makes in school.

Elizabeth’s throat has too many lumps now when she opens her eyes and is back into the reality of the church in Madison Lake. She looks around now. It is different from the almost shack-like building down the road from her old home. Elizabeth closes her eyes and imagines Talisheek again, or at least tries to, before the sound of the organ blasts into her ears, sending her mind back into the church.

She, along with her mother, stands up. The choir, up in the loft above them, is singing a song that Elizabeth doesn’t recognize. She keeps her mouth closed, but her mother nudges her. She turns around, looking at her. She sees her eyes. It is as if her mother’s eyes are telling her to sing. Elizabeth only shrugs and then turns to face forward. It’s all she can do.

Relieved when they sit back down, Elizabeth begins fanning herself. The heat in the room is seeping in. The few fans that are spinning are doing little to provide adequate coolness to the entire room. She sighs — at least her mother will let her fan herself to her heart’s content. Elizabeth takes a good look at the pastor who is now standing at the pulpit. With a smile, he greets everyone present. Elizabeth can’t help but study him.

He reminds her of a grandfather. His eyes are sparkling as he looks at the expanse of people sitting in the pews. The smile on his face makes Elizabeth feel more comfortable. She remembers him from the day they moved to Madison Lake. The man is a nice, jovial greeter. Someone that makes people feel more welcome.

“Good and happy Sunday everyone!” the pastor’s honey-rich baritone voice resonates into the walls. It reminds Elizabeth of her own grandfather’s voice. “I am glad to see so many people here on this blessed day.”

A few voices that are sprinkled throughout the room utter, ‘amen.’ Elizabeth looks around to try and figure out who it is, but her mother nudges her again.

“Pay attention.” Her mother’s whisper is sharp like sandpaper. “You’re in church, not at a social event.”

Elizabeth sinks. She knows she’s in church.

“Alright,” she whispers softly.

The pastor begins speaking about the scripture passage, the one about the miracle of the loaves. Elizabeth has heard it several times. She smiles. It’s one of her favorite parts of the Bible.

“Ya know when yer feeling kinda lost?” he asks. “You know in this day and age how hard it is to come by food.”

The congregation nods in agreement. Elizabeth sees the sadness in these people’s eyes. She doesn’t quite understand the impact. She wishes she did. Pa left them insurance money after his death. She has heard about the poor men in New Orleans, jumping from ten stories above just because of losing all their money. At least that’s what Ma says.

It seems kinda silly to me that they would jump from buildings just cause of money losses. What is money anyway, really?

“Don’t forget those that need food.” The pastor’s voice chimes in, disrupting Elizabeth’s thoughts. “Those po’ folk that don’t got nothing to hold onto? Well, Jesus gave ‘em multitudes of bread with just a wave of his hand. Now we can’t do none of that for our poor folk in our communiteh, but we can give what we can give. The lil’ bit that we can give will be a blessing to those po’ folk. Remember, that a true Christian is one that gives away — not one that keeps for himself.”

“Ma,” she leans in. “Are we poor?”

She turns around and whispers, “Of course we are. Don’t you know that? Now pay attention to Pastor Jenkins.”

Elizabeth sinks into the pew and looks up towards the ceiling, her eyes not leaving the fan as it spins lazily. Elizabeth realizes then that the fan is moving too slow for anyone to feel anything at all.

“Sit up.”

She sits up and turns her head towards the pews next to theirs. The pastor is still speaking about ways to administer charity to poor folk in the community, or ‘po folk’ as he says it. She sees a woman, dressed in an ugly gown. Elizabeth cringes at the color. It is a pale color that is marked with dirt and mud. She cannot help but grimace. The lady turns and Elizabeth’s heart squeezes tight. The woman saw her. She turns and faces the front of the church again, noticing the backs of men’s heads and the hats that are too large for her to see well at all.

Yet she cannot get that woman’s eyes out of her mind. She closes her eyes in an attempt to do so, but they are even more vivid than before. This woman’s eyes were lost. Almost alone. Elizabeth cannot understand it. She cannot understand why the woman looks so, so… sickly. Why her soul looks as if it is on the brink of death. She shivers, but cannot stop thinking of it. She turns again,succumbing to the temptation to look. The woman is not looking directly at her, but her eyes are facing the ground. She then sees the children sitting next to her. They are looking at Elizabeth now. Their eyes are narrow. Are they grimacing at her? They look dirty. Why are they even here? They are the filthiest boys she has ever seen. Don’t they even have the decency to bathe? After all, they are in church.

“Eyes to the front.”

Her mother’s whisper weaves its way into her mind, but she ignores it. She can’t help but continue to look at them. They are doing the same to her. What is that look int their eyes? Why do they look so thin? So hopeless?

Then realization dawn on her as she notices the way one of the boys clutches his hand against his stomach, his eyes showing so much pain, anger and sadness as it amalgamates into one.

They’re poor. No longer does Elizabeth have the desire to look at them. Now she is facing the front, watching the pastor as he speaks on. No wonder why they look as if they are ashamed. No wonder why they look as if the world is crashing down on them.

“So, when you see someone like these people. Ya should give them a piece of your spirit. Give them your heart. Charity is the most important virtue of all.”

Elizabeth’s mind is reeling. She thinks of nothing else but those boys and who she assumes to be their mother. What can she do for them? She looks at her mother and wants to ask her, but she is still focused on the pastor’s words.

I don’t know what I wanna do for those boys, but I feel like I hafta do at least somethin’. They need help. They look so… sad. It’s not like me, where I wear my sadness on my sleeves. Like the whole town knows I’m mournin’. But it’s a deep, soul sadness. I know what I’ll do to help. I’ll give them a piece of my spirit, like Pastor Jenkins said.

“The sun don’t set, remember that folks. It may look like it’s settin’ but it’s always up there, shining it’s bright light. So when you’re in darkness, remember that even the sun shines through all of that, even if you don’t realize it. That sun is God. The voice of God, telling you to carry on through the bleakness.”

The pastor steps down. The congregation is quiet and the last words ring true to Elizabeth’s mind.

***

“Ma,” Elizabeth says. “’Spose we can help out some poor people today?”

She turns to look at Elizabeth, her eyes narrowing as she cocks her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, like what Pastor Jenkins was talking about.” She steps over a large rock. “Why don’t we bake some bread for poor folk. Lord knows we have enough dough to last us.”

“But Elizabeth that dough is for the rest of the week, we can’t just give it away.”

Didn’t you listen to a word he said? Elizabeth’s heart sinks.

“But Pastor Jenkins —”

“I know what he said, but we can’t do it. We simply can’t afford to give our food away to unfortunate people.”

“But I feel like we hafta.”

“I know your feeling, Beth, but we can’t.”

She sighs. “I wish we could. Could we give just somethin’ small? I know Pastor Jenkins would appreciate it.”

She nods and looks at her daughter. “I suppose we can do that. Are you thinkin’ about bread?”

“Bread, yeah. Bread seems to be the best thing to bake for people. Even if they don’t have a full dinner, at least we’re helpin’ them out somehow.”

Her mother smiles. It’s the first time she’s seen her smile all day. It fills Elizabeth’s heart with rays of sunshine. For a moment, just a glimpse of her old, vibrant yellow soul came back, even if it was just for a brief moment.

“Yeah, I think that one loaf, just one loaf’ll be good for now. I’m sorry, Beth. For snappin’ atchya. Today’s just been a bad day.”

Elizabeth doesn’t understand the deep look in her mother’s eyes. The way her eyes darken as she turns away. There are moments, and this is one of them, tha Elizabeth wishes she were older. Then she could understand everything everyone tells her. At least she sort could understand Pastor Jenkin’s sermon today, but then again, everyone in the room had some comprehension of it.

“I’ll let you bake it, since you want to so badly. Who are you givin’ it to?”

“I dunno.”

She wants to hunt the boys and their mother down, but when she turns, she notices that they are not in the groups of people mingling in front of the church. She sees those people smiling, laughing, and carrying on. But there is no sign of those people.

“They must have left so quickly, Ma. I saw ‘em sitting in the pews next to ours, y’know on the right side of church. They looked so sad.”

“Who?”

“Ma, I don’t know who they are. I wish I did, but it’s the first time I have ever seen them.”

“Well, why don’t we do this? The next time there’s a church service, we’ll bring a bread basket and leave it for them. How does that sound?”

Elizabeth smiles. “I think it sounds mighty splendid, Ma. They’ll sure appreciate our gift.”

And they both turn on the street that leads to their home, leaving behind the congregation.

Today is laundry day. Elizabeth kneels at the tub with her mother, scrubbing her filthy dress against the washboard. She sighs, looking outside the window and up at an extending branch of the oak tree next to their home.

“Beth, don’t scrub too hard. And pay attention to what yer doing. Yer gonna damage your nice dress.”

“Aw, Ma,” Elizabeth says. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t payin’ attention.”

She sighs, “Just like yer pa, I tell ya. Just like him.” She turns away, her back facing Elizabeth’s.

“Ma?” Elizabeth scoots herself closer and hesitates for a moment, but then places a gentle hand on her mother’s back. “Is everything okay?”

She hears her mother sniffle then turn back to face the tub, resuming her scrubbing. Elizabeth watches as the dirt from the gown. flows down to the drain.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just a memory. That’s all.”

Elizabeth nods, then throws her arms around her mother. “I’m sorry. I miss him too.” The tears cloud her eyes.

“Yes… Yer pa used to do this with me before you were born. And one day, when I was too pregnant to bend, he took all the laundry for himself. I was just rememberin’ that. How special he was…”

Elizabeth closes her eyes, fighting back tears. “I know.” The lump in her throat is rising. “He was special. We can make new memories, y’know? Pa wouldn’t want us to sit here, cryin’ and moanin’, no matter how hard it is to not… Pa didn’t even cry over Grampy’s death. He looked at me once and said, ‘Yer Grampy’s in Heaven now. No use cryin’ over him. If he’s with God then he’s happy. We should be happy for him too.’”

Elizabeth’s mother cries out. “Yer right, Beth… Yer right…” She turns, wipes her eyes and smiles. “Pa did say that, didn’t he?”

“Yessum, he did. Let’s finish up in here and we can drink some iced tea after we finish our laundry… Which’ll probably be three hours from now.” Elizabeth chuckles.

The both of them resume their scrubbing. After a while, the labor begins to hurt Elizabeth’s back, but she still resumes scrubbing. It is only a matter of time before they have to put the clothes on the line outside. It is her favorite part of laundry business. Elizabeth loves it when the wind pics up a little and gently kisses her face. It is warm outside, but there is a little breeze coming in from the open window. It is absolutely perfect to her.

***

It happens. The wind picks up and the sheets are being hung up on the line. Elizabeth hums her favorite tune, something her father used to play on the piano. Though she feels the pain of his absence as the melody resonates in her body, she feels as if the wind just might be his spirit surrounding them. She turns to look at her mother, who is focused on her work. Elizabeth wonders if she notices that the wind might be Pa. But sighing, Elizabeth returns to hanging clothes.

“Beth, you’re too slow. Let’s pick up the pace if you wanna drink tea.”

“Yeah,” she says.

Elizabeth moves her line of vision to the street and sees a figure walking. She then notices the puff of white snow following after him. It’s Mr. Guillory walking with his dog, Celie. Within moments, the memory of her meeting with him that past Saturday come into her mind. The mansion. She had almost forgotten about it. Curiosity is creeping in now, and she forgets about the prospect of drinking tea later. She wants to leave to go to the mansion.

“Look, Ma! It’s Mr. Guillory. You know the man that walked me home the other day.”

“Oh,” she asks, looking at her daughter. “Is it?”

“He’s walking that little dog of his. Her name is Celie. Oh Ma, can I go see her? She’s so cute!”

Her mother’s shoulder’s sink. She bites her lips and narrows her eyes, as if her eyes are burning right past Elizabeth. Elizabet can’t help but gulp. Her hands are getting sweaty. She hates it when her mother looks at her in this fashion. Elizabeth blinks for what feels like several moments.

“I suppose you can. Just come right back.”

“Really? I can?” Elizabeth’s eyes are sparkling as she looks past her mother. Her heart is thundering. She doesn’t want to miss the opportunity of feeling Celie’s soft puff against her face, or the possibility of affectionate licks.

“Yeah, go on ahead.” Her mother waves.

“Thanks, Ma!”

Elizabeth dashes without a single moment’s thought.

“Mr. Paul! Mr. Paul!” she exclaims, in hopes that he’d hear her. She runs faster to catch up with him and Celie. “Wait for me! Wait for me!”

He still walks.

“Mr. Paul!”

Then he turns around and with furrowed eyebrows seemingly peers into the distance. Elizabeth is closer now and finally stops, panting for breath as she places her hands against her stomach.

“Hi, Mister! Remember me?”

He smiles and waves. “Oh, hello! Of course I remember ya! Howya doin’?”

“Oh, I’m alright. Just doin’ laundry with my Ma.”

“Ah.” He nods and smiles. “Goin’ fishin’ with Celie. Just like we do every Saturday.”

Elizabeth knows that there are several people who fish every Saturday by the river. Practically the whole town. She begins to wonder if Ma will go fishin as well, but instead of saying her goodbyes to Mr. Guillory to see if her mother would like to fish, Elizabeth kneels down and gestures for Celie to come closer to her. She smiles as she watches the dog limp slowly towards her.

“She really loves ya.”

“Yeah,” Elizabeth says feeling the puff of white come up to her face. It was like heaven on earth to her, or as close as heaven could get. “I love her too.”

Elizabeth hears a faint voice in the distance, but is not quite sure if it is the voice of her mother or not and resumes petting the dog. She coos to her and lets her hand slide across her back. Elizabeth marvels at her white coat. It really is softer than one imagines it would be. The dog is nuzzling her chest and bringing herself closer to her. She feels her closeness and for the first time in a while, Elizabeth feels complete again, as if everything has come together in the world and there is no depression. There is no pain in the eyes of men.

But her moment with Celie ceases when she hears her mother’s voice louder now.

“Yeah, Ma?” Elizabeth wastes no time in asking as she turns around to face her mother, who is walking closer to her.

“You were takin’ too long, so I just wanted to see what the hold up was.” She looks at Mr. Guillory. “Oh hello again.” She is half-smiling at him, then looks at her daughter.

“I just wanted to see the puppy, that’s all. Mr. Guillory is gonna go fishin’ with the dog. Can I go?”

Her mother’s eyes go dark and she bites her lips. “I dunno, Beth… We still gotta pick up vegetables from the garden.”

Right. I’m supposed to pick peas from the garden. Ma’s gonna do somethin’ with it. Maybe dry the peas… That was my chance to pretend to fish with Mr. Guillory and try to figure out what is in that mansion! Now I can’t go… I gotta find a way in.

“But Ma, I like the river.”

“I know ya do, but look, you gotta pick peas.”

“Alright,” she says.

Mr. Guillory chimes in. “I think you should listen to your Ma. After all, she knows best.”

“Yes, so say goodbye to him and you can come and finish up with me.”

“Bye, Mr. Guillory!” Elizabeth waves. “Bye Celie. I’m gonna miss ya. I’m gonna miss ya.” She bends down and kisses her face and Celie nuzzles her again, only to lick her face generously.

Elizabeth wiggles and stands up, watching the two leave. She frowns as she watches her favorite puff of snow disappear in the distance.

***

Elizabeth and her mother say nothing as they walk towards the home, which to Elizabeth is almost lacking in color compared to Celie’s pure whiteness. She knows the house needs to be painted over again. There are spots in the paint that are fading out and the wood looks like it could give someone a splinter if they just graze their hands over it. They walk past the front porch and to the side of the house. She looks up and notices that the window to her mother’s room is wide open.

Ma’s trying to talk to Pa and David, ain’t she?”

Elizabeth recalls a memory of her childhood.

***

Elizabeth’s mother is standing in the center of the room, in front of a makeshift vanity, styling her hair like the women in the fashion magazines. They don’t have any of those magazines in the home, but her mother likes to read them at the little convenience store a few blocks away from their home. Elizabeth sits at the foot of the bed, astonished at how elegant her mother’s gown is. It is one of those dresses that she’s dreamed of having. She smiles at the thought of her mother spending hours at the Singer machine, sewing it beautifully. Just so that she could wear it for her night out with Pa. The breeze from the open window comes in the room and she watches as the dress rustles with the movement of her mother and the breeze. Ma looks like she’s about to go dancing. Doing the *insert famous dance name of the 20s here* Elizabeth feels herself getting more jealous by the second.

A figure approaches in the door-frame. Elizabeth smiles at her father, who waves to her and reciprocates that smile. He looks dapper and quite dashing.

“Where y’all goin’ again?”

“Covington, dear.”

“Why y’all goin’ all the way over to Covington? And why can’t I come with y’all? Grammie is gonna be here… Why can’t she come too?”

“’Cause this is a night for me and yer Pa, Beth.” She turns around and smiles. There is a sparkle like diamonds in both her eyes. Like a happiness that just can’t be contained in a single soul.

“Alright,” Elizabeth smiles. “I hope y’all both have fun.”

Elizabeth’s father sits next to her and brings her closer to him. “We love ya, girlie. We love ya so much. Yer gonna have a great time with Grammie. Ya know how fun she is.”

Her father is right.

“Yeah, I know.”

She smiles at the both of them as they walk out of the room, looking like a million bucks. Not like Elizabeth knows what that kind of money looks like. But she stands at the door-frame after running to the small foyer and waves endlessly, watching her parents’ figures as they walk, heading towards the train depot.

Her parents never come home. Elizabeth never forgets the shock in her grandmother’s voice when her grandmother looks her in the eye and tells her that they need to go to the hospital in Covington.

***

That night still stays on Elizabeth’s heart and she feels the pressing pain as she remembers her brother, David. They never let her see him. She doesn’t want to talk to Ma about it, but she remembers now. Today is the anniversary of her brother’s death. Elizabeth didn’t know what happened that night until now. It hits her. Everything makes sense. Why her Ma is the way she is today.

It is the night of David’s passing that she and her father celebrated the pregnancy — for their future, for the baby. But her mother, upon leaving one of the restaurants downtown, began feeling the pains of labor far too soon. Then, at the hospital, they discovered that David’s heart stopped beating.

She cannot allow herself to talk about David Nicholas, or even barely mention his name. Her mother doesn’t talk about it either— and she knows why. The pain of the loss is still too much for her mother to bear on top of losing Pa. She lets a tear trickle down her cheek. She’s never seen David Nicholas face to face, but sometimes, it’s like she’s communicating with his spirit. It is those small moments when she’s walking from another room, it is like she feels David there. Or when she’s feeling lonely and afraid, or even lonely and sad, it is like David is there holding her. She knows David and he knows her.

***

They saunter through the small garden in their humble backyard. There is not much there but staple vegetables, such as snap peas, okra, and potatoes. Elizabeth wishes for strawberries but knows that she has to go deep in the woods to pick them. Of course, it is an open invitation to go see that derelict mansion, but Elizabeth knows that is not the best way to do it. She will get lost and being lost in the Piney Woods, well that’s just a way to see ghosts and creepies. Her skin crawls as she thinks of those things.

“Beth, are you gonna help me?”

Elizabeth realizes that she is far too deep in thought and that she has been only standing there and not helping. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Just go over there and pick some peas. I’m gonna stay right here.”

Elizabeth obeys her mother and kneels down to pick the peas but her mind isn’t fully engaged in what she is doing. Her mind is travelling, walking down the street where the mansion is. Her mind is going back to the day where she first really got to get a good look at it, when she first had met Mr. Guillory.

“Ma?” Elizabeth asks, gulping. This is not going to end well— she knows it.

“What?”

“C-Can I see the mansion?” She winces, not looking directly at her mother’s figure.

“What did I tell ya? Yer grounded. Grounded for as long as I say so.”

Elizabeth figures it is worth a shot, but her effort goes in vain. She sighs and puts the picked peas in the basket. If only…

“I’m kinda bored, though.”

“Well, that’s what ya get for goin’ off and doin’ yer own thing the other day. I needed help and you were gone. You’ve got no idea how worried I was aboutcha. In a few weeks time, I might change my tune.”

So there is a possibility? Elizabeth cannot help but smile at the thought of not being grounded anymore. But then the reality hits her. She’s still grounded for as long as her mother says. She stands up and puts the basket of peas on top of their picnic table and sits down, resting her chin on her hand. After a while, she sees the shadow of her mother’s figure sit next to her.

“Beth, you know how hard it’s been lately.”

It’s because of David. I know it.

“I know.”

There is a spoken silence between them— a mutual understanding of David. Elizabeth sees it deep in her mother’s eyes. As if her soul is still sobbing as hard as she did the day her baby left the world. Elizabeth, though she is staring almost directly into her mother’s soul, cannot fully comprehend the pain of David’s absence. But at least for now she can be there with her mother. Once again, Elizabeth has forgotten that today is the day…

Mighty selfish of me to wanna leave like that.

“I just need ya here right now. ‘Kay?” She doesn’t look at Elizabeth at this moment. “Yer all I’ve got right now.”

“I know.” It is all Elizabeth can say. At a loss for words, she tries to find the right words but they never come.

Elizabeth mother walks away. The girl sits at the table, watching the other woman in her somber steps. Her shoulders slump even lower than usual. Her head is down and her movements are slow. Elizabeth thinks about her for several moments. Bringing the vibrant, yellow personality back is worth trying, even if it means that for the slightest, most brief moment, that her mother’s sparkling diamond eyes will return. That she will come back to her. That is all Elizabeth wants.