Meridian. Part 11

- Ca.s.sie Ailey, 8th of January 1876 I woke to a complete face wash, one long tongue stroke after another. "Custos." I opened my eyes, sticky wolf drool lathered like a wet clay mask on my face. I giggled, letting her nudge and push me toward the edge of the bed.

The chill slapped my bare feet. The s.p.a.ce heater's plug had fallen out of the socket. I rubbed my arms, s.h.i.+vering, and tugged a sweater on over my pajamas.

The house was silent. I didn't hear Auntie or Tens anywhere below. My breath caught and sadness washed over me as I remembered Tens's confession the night before. Auntie was dying, and I had to help her pa.s.s through. Pa.s.s on. Die. Would I be able to do it?

I padded along with Custos by my side, down to the kitchen for a gla.s.s of juice. Tens's kitchen skills were spoiling me. Sure enough, there was a pitcher of fresh-squeezed OJ waiting by a gla.s.s. He'd given up trying to force me to eat, but this morning I actually felt hungry.

I grabbed a blueberry m.u.f.fin and decided to explore the house a little more while it was still quiet. I didn't know what time it was, though it was early enough that the light was still soft.

A shadow pa.s.sed across my peripheral vision, but when I turned toward it there was nothing there. I opened the first downstairs door that creaked under my fingertips, its old-fas.h.i.+oned key not engaged in the lock.

At the far end of the room, a picture window looked out over the snowy field. The room was decorated in grand mahogany tones, with shelves along one wall full of books and shelves along the other crowded with paintings and photographs. I picked up a velvet blocked quilt and wrapped it around my shoulders. Cold air seeped past the rippled gla.s.s panes and chilled me.

Huge gilded frames and simple wood ones embraced crowds of people. Shocked. I saw my mother as a little girl with Auntie. A photo of my parents' wedding hung next to one in sepia tones. I flipped on a light to see better.

"That was my wedding day." I jumped as Auntie entered the room.

"Seriously? You look so happy." I motioned toward the rest of the photos. "Who are all these people?"

67.

"Family some friends." She walked over and stood at my shoulder.

ani *"My wedding-day portrait is the first photograph that developed right." Auntie touched a fingertip to the gla.s.s.

"What's the deal? Is it a Fenestra thing too?"

She shot me an amused glance. "Why yes, it is. There's something about the film -or digital processing now-that captures the light in us."

"But it's possible?"

"Have you heard people say that ghosts or spirits in photographs leave a white blur or flashbulb reflection?"

"I guess." I was learning how little I knew about the world. In photographs, my face was always in shadow, like a lunar eclipse. It always seemed like the sun was right behind me, throwing my face into darkness. It was as if I didn't have any ident.i.ty on film.

"We do that. Until you learn how to close and open your gateway to spirits, then all that people can capture is the light from beyond you."

I'm eclipsed by my role in the world. "But you can control it?"

"Yes, you can learn to. Like you learn to control tangling yourself up in other energy.

Wasn't my husband handsome?" Her smile bloomed even as her eyes teared up.

"Yes, very. What was his name?"

"He was my Charles. My daredevil pilot. He was one of the first people to fly experimental aircraft."

"Wasn't that dangerous?"

"Of course, but he didn't fear death. He told me that every time he went up as long as he could see my face when he died he'd never fear death."

"He knew?"

"Oh yes. We met at a field hospital in France during the war. I was already well past the age of marriage in those days, but I was a nurse. I went where I was needed, and the boys fighting for us needed a peaceful end if they weren't coming home."

"So you nursed them?"

Sadness filled her eyes. "Some. Mostly I went out with patrols and with the Resistance to the front. Made myself available to any who needed me. My skills as a nurse were not in as high demand as my skills as a Fenestra. The Aternocti built an empire in Europe with Hitler's help. Or vice versa.

"The boys started calling me Angel because the screaming stopped when I was around.

68.

Charles paid attention. He'd heard stories from his grandmother about the light people who ani are angels on earth. He volunteered to escort me.

*"Near the war's end we found a camp in Germany. A place of h.e.l.l on earth."

"The n.a.z.is?"

"Hmmm. I went with the troops that first day. Not afraid, but not prepared. No one could ever be prepared. There were so many. So close. My eyes hurt from the light; I almost couldn't see myself, my skin glowed. I focused on breathing and letting them through, one after another."

"What happened?"

"Most of the soldiers knew I wasn't quite like everyone else. But in wartime, it's easier to believe in things that don't make sense, miracles, the supernatural. They alternated helping me get around the camp, to be with the people who needed me, the ones who couldn't recover. But Charles never left my side. After hours of this. I was so exhausted I could barely stand. I fainted and Charles caught me. Carried me back to the base camp and poured whiskey into me until I cried the pain all out I told him things I'd never told another human being, but he listened quietly and kept pouring."

"He wasn't scared?"

"Oh, child, you see enough and live enough, death isn't the scary part anymore. War puts our puny human fears in perspective. Plus, he saw what it cost me. I couldn't get out of bed for a week. The doctors diagnosed me with some nonsense like female hysteria or vapors."

I laughed at how insulted she still sounded.

"Charles kept bringing me fresh bread and cheese from local farms. He learned I had a sweet tooth, so he'd barter for sweets, which were terribly difficult to find in those days. He brought me roses and bouquets of wildflowers. Life. He nursed me until I could get back on my feet. He was ten years younger than me. That was quite the scandal in those days, but war is war and, well, you form a bond after living through it that belies propriety. He told me he loved me and asked me to spend the rest of my life with him, to bear him over when his time came, to let him protect me and help me in whatever ways he could."

I wondered if I'd ever know that kind of love and devotion. Or if I could walk through the present-day equivalent of a n.a.z.i death camp because it was the right thing to do for the souls trapped there.

"Have you ever studied a dead human body?" Auntie asked.

"A person? No." Celia was my closest.

"Him:' She moved down the line of frames to a portrait of a little girl, a wonderful oil painting.

"I was five when that was painted. Had the worst time sitting still." The painting captured a young girl with the world's most earnest expression. So serious and focused. Her eyes were like drill bits; I almost felt the heat of her gaze on my face. It was strange the way the painting seemed alive, glowing with purpose. Dark, glossy curls framed an ivory face with 69ani eyes the unfathomable blue of twilight in summer.

*Auntie brushed her fingertips across a miniature painting. "Your great-grandmother was seven years older than me. That's her there." She had the faintest glow around her, I wished my mother had thought to have my portrait painted. "You're actually my great-great-aunt?"

"Yes."

"How old are you, then?"

"One hundred and six. All Fenestras live that long if we make it past the transition. My dad painted this one, too."

"Did he know?"

"He knew there was something different about me, of course. He knew when my mother called me to her side in the middle of birthing my youngest sister. She knew what I was.

Her mother had been a Fenestra. But she had kept it from my father, thinking she could s.h.i.+eld me from the whispers and the witchcraft fears."

"What happened?"

"Children weren't allowed in the birthing rooms back then. But my father never could refuse her anything."

I felt like I already knew the conclusion of this story. "She died?"

"Hmm, yes, she was the first person I know of who tried to go through me. I was six, but if the soul knows a window, it's easier for them. She couldn't make it without killing me, though; she sensed it was too much and retreated. I can't imagine how hard that was for her.

For me, well, it was difficult to recover from. I had the worst stomach pains for weeks afterward. The doctor was called from three towns away and wanted to operate, but my daddy wouldn't let him touch me."

"Did your sister die too?"

"No. Mama pushed her out clear and fast. But something tore inside my mother, and the blood wouldn't stop. She held my hand and wouldn't let go. She asked me to sing the lullaby that she always sang to me. I forgot the second verse. By then it didn't matter I sang as if my life depended on it Over and over again, I sang that lullaby. The midwife cleaned up my sister and went into town to find a nursemaid for her. My father broke that night. Something never healed in him."

"I'm sorry."

She continued like she hadn't heard me. "I heard my mother's voice in my head, telling me she loved me and to trust myself no matter what. Then her hand relaxed. Her eyes turned toward me, but I knew she was gone. The way the bedclothes are still warm after you get out of bed in the morning -you're there, but no longer. Mama gave my eldest sister the journal, but I was the only Fenestra in the family, so it came to me."

70ani *"I'm sorry." I didn't know what to say. At least my parents were alive in another city or state, as far as I knew.

"Don't be. Death is what makes life possible. It's the balance, Meridian. There always has to be balance. You'll learn. You can sense the souls that need you, before they know it, so you can be prepared for their pa.s.sage rather than taken unawares."

"It becomes second nature?"

"Like breathing or swallowing. You'll have an awareness and you can be deliberate about it, but you can also rest and simply be."

"Why do I need to close the window, then?"

"It's part of learning how it feels, how it works. There will be times when you'll want to shut the window. You'll need to s.h.i.+eld when you're ill or vulnerable."

If I s.h.i.+eld, can I be completely human? Go back to my family? "Is there any way to s.h.i.+eld completely so I'm normal?"

"It's possible to have the appearance of a normal life, yes, but you'll always be a Fenestra.

It's who you are." She ran her hand over my hair. "Is your hair naturally this red?"

"What? No, it's brown." A completely nondescript dirty brown.

"So you dye it? Give the appearance of being a redhead or a blonde, right?"

"Yeah."

"That's what s.h.i.+elding does for us -it's temporary camouflage."

"Will I ever see my family again?"

"I hope so, little one, but I can't make any promises. I know what it's like to miss the people you love. I still do. I wish I could spare you that" Her expression filled with longing and loss. She brushed a finger against the photograph of Charles.

"What happened to him?"

Her face clouded and her chin trembled. "He died."

There was more, but I hesitated to push. "Were you -"

"I wasn't there. I'd gone to the restroom. I left his side for a moment. Just a moment." She gripped my hand.

"I'm sure -" I broke off, knowing there was nothing I could say. "Is there a chance?"

I barely heard her whisper, "I don't know."

71ani *Did Charles get to heaven or was he recycling into a new life? Or worse still, was he in h.e.l.l?

"Get your coat" she said.

"Why?"

"Can you drive?"

"I'm still learning."

"Good, you can practice that too."

"Where are we going?"

"To visit my friend Winnie." "I thought she died." "She did."

72ani *