Whispers Beyond the Veil (9 page)

“I'm so pleased you aren't upset.”

“Ruby, my dear, I can't think of anything you could do, short of outright lying, that would make me angry with you.”

H
onoria was as good as her word. A flurry of messages sent back and forth secured a sitting with her dear friend Orazelia and her daughter, Lucy, for that very day. As I stood pacing the room where I had met Honoria only the day before, I was glad the meeting had not been set for after lunch. My stomach tangled in knots anticipating the test before me.

I soothed myself by making preparations to the room. Setting the scene was an important part of any show. I adjusted the heavy velvet drapes to exclude all light and lit the candle on the table in the center of the room. While I had no experience personally with running a séance, I had seen it done on many occasions. Medicine shows often featured mediums as one of the acts and I had made a practice of studying their techniques. I told myself that this was simply another sort of performance like a card reading or a miracle medical diagnosis session. I looked around the room and decided there was nothing left to do but to await my clients' arrival.

I had to wait only a few moments until Honoria drew back the midnight blue portiere, and with her usual gust of energy blew
into the séance room. Riding in her wake was a short, pleasantly rounded lady approximately Honoria's own age and a young, slim woman of just about mine.

“Ruby, allow me to present my very dear friend Orazelia and her daughter, Lucinda. They are eager to be your first sitters.”

“We are delighted to help in any way we can. It is such a privilege to have a session with someone with a true gift,” Orazelia said.

“Mother is simply smitten with the idea.” Lucinda smiled at me over her mother's head as if to say she was humoring her. “I hope we aren't putting you to any trouble?”

“I should say the same to you. Thank you so much for finding the time on such short notice,” I said.

“The world of spirit is where I prefer to expend most of my energy. It is a rare pleasure to be with you today.” Orazelia's plump face displayed a charming pair of dimples. “Besides, we had already determined to pay you a call today to welcome you to Old Orchard.”

“I wish I could stay and take part but duties call and call at this time of year,” Honoria said. In the near distance the peal of the bell at the front desk rang out. With a quiet swish of the portiere, Honoria was gone and I was left to face the music alone. Both women sat in their chairs at the table and turned expectant faces to me. I drew in a deep breath and took the remaining seat.

Part of me was nervous at the thought of trying this out on strangers on my own, but the greater part of me was relieved to work through it in private. I suspected Honoria's scrutiny would have made it more difficult to focus on the subtle clues the sitters would give off as to whether or not I was on the right track concerning their loved ones.

“Shall we begin?” I reached out my upturned hands and drew in a deep breath. “An unbroken circle is important. The physical contact enhances the intention of the group to connect with those on the other side.” Each of them gave me a hand and joined their other hands together.

I wasn't making up the importance of touch, but its value was not for the reasons stated. When I had worked the medicine show Father had drilled into my head from the very beginning the importance of making physical contact with a mark. If you're observant, you can learn a great deal by looking at someone's face and observing the set of their shoulders, the stiffness of their spine as they speak. But even more of their hearts and minds are revealed by the body's infinitesimal twitches and tightenings, invisible to the eye but easily sensed by touch.

I was betting the same rules would apply to those in pursuit of the spirits as it had to those in pursuit of physical cures. From the feel of their hands, Orazelia felt no fear of what she might hear. Her hand lay heavily in mine, like a sack of dried beans. Lucinda, despite her stoic appearance, displayed much more trepidation. Her hand was rigid in mine, the fingers stiff and unyielding, and she held my hand lightly, as if she feared the consequences of a stronger connection.

“Please close your eyes and think of nothing save the purpose we propose,” I said, slowing my breathing and making sure it could be heard by the others in the hope they would be encouraged to match it.

Cultivating relaxation in the seeker is another trick of the trade. Calm leaves the patron more open to suggestion and more easily led into revealing their desires and concerns. I watched as they followed my suggestion and I continued to breathe deeply as
I tried to listen to their own breathing patterns. It was a technique I used many times in the medicine show.

One of Father's best moneymakers was to send men with notices ahead to towns promoting the powers of his Wonder Child. Whenever there was enough money, he had handbills printed claiming I could diagnose illnesses from liver complaints to ruptures to consumption and that with a laying on of hands I could cure most of them. What I couldn't cure for one dollar with my magnetic energy, I was to suggest bottles of his healing elixir could. For two dollars apiece. Before I was old enough for my feet to touch the decking of the wagon I could feel when I was speaking of the querent's fears and when I was addressing their hopes.

On more than one occasion I would sit in the wagon and provide consultations for hours at a time if the crowds were large enough. There was no medical value to what I did but I told myself I gave people comfort. The familiar rush of shame crept up my neck as I prepared to work the same sort of scam on my aunt's trusting friends.

As luxurious as the appointments in the room were, everything suddenly felt overlaid by a film of tawdriness that I knew emanated from me. I would never be more than a cheat and a liar, no matter how expensive my dress or opulent my surroundings. Or even how pure my motivations. As Mrs. Doyle had so eloquently pointed out, I was my father's daughter. As bad as that made me feel much of the time, it was in fact coming in handy at present. I shoved my trepidation aside and focused on the feeling in the room.

“Please concentrate on the person you would like me to contact. Bring this person clearly to mind and hold your thoughts fixed there. However, I cannot promise we will receive a visit
from that loved one. The spirits have minds of their own and do not feel compelled to appear just because we wish them to do so.” I creaked one eye open slightly and noticed both Orazelia and Lucinda were nodding their heads. “Once I have become aware of a presence, you are welcome to ask any questions you like. I do not promise answers but I will do my best to communicate whatever they pass on to me.”

“We understand completely.” Lucinda patted her mother on the back of the hand, and I wondered if perhaps Lucinda was the more capable of the two. From outward appearances she certainly seemed stronger. If her looks were any indication, Orazelia had been older than the average mother when Lucinda had been born. Age, however, was not what gave the impression of fragility. Her eyes were softly focused and her face had a look of befuddlement that Lucinda's did not share. Orazelia looked a bit like a child who had been startled out of a nap in an unaccustomed place and was searching the room for a familiar face.

Lucinda, however, seemed more like a child who would never have succumbed to a nap in the first place. Her bright, honey-colored curls bounced and jiggled with every turn of her head. Her posture, while straight, gave a sense of being poised for action rather than for showing her figure to advantage. Everything about her spoke of confidence and grace.

“We are grateful for the experience, no matter who comes to call,” Lucinda said.

“Spirits, please hear our invitation to commune with us here on the earthly plane,” I said, my voice pitched lower than usual and the words spoken barely above a whisper. Then stronger, as if I were desperate in my pleading. “I know there must be someone who wishes to contact these dear ladies.” A subtle pull on my
hands told me the sitters were willing this to be the case. I felt them both leaning toward me slightly. Time to start fishing.

“I will begin by slowly reciting the letters of the alphabet. If we are lucky, a spirit will make itself known to us when his or her initial is spoken aloud,” I said. I watched them through slit eyelids as they both nodded in agreement.

“A, B, C.”
I spoke slowly and in a voice barely above a whisper.
“D, E, F, G.”
On the letter
G
both women tightened their grip, Orazelia with a surprising degree of strength.

“
G.
Is there a spirit here with a connection to the letter
G
?” I asked, then paused as if listening. “There is a spirit here with a name starting with
G
. Is it your surname?” Both women sat quietly. “No, it is your Christian name, is it not?” Again, they each tensed their grip. Now I needed to know if they were expecting a man or a woman to appear, and I would need some indication of age.

“Thank you for blessing our gathering with your presence. We wish to know more about your time on our mortal plane. Am I speaking with a gentleman or a lady?” Once again I interpreted the unspoken message from my sitters.

“A female personage is with us, but I am not certain as to her age,” I said. My chances of suggesting the right thing were dead even. Still, hedging my bets was even surer. “Her energy feels youthful to me, but perhaps she was simply young at heart.”

“Gladys.” Orazelia's voice caught in her throat.

“You can't be sure, Mum,” Lucinda said.

“Was Gladys your name when you walked amongst us?” I asked, sure I had hit the mark. The fluttering in my stomach and the hammering of my heart both subsided enough for me to hear the ticking of the mantel clock. I felt a shabby sense of triumph,
a familiar mingling of power, trepidation, and shame. It was a combination I had sworn to myself to leave behind with Johnny's lifeless body. Before I could chastise myself further, Orazelia leaned close and squeezed my hand harder than ever. I snapped my attention to the task at hand. “Yes, Gladys is her name. She wants you to know she is peaceful and happy on the other side.”

“Gladys's happiness is the least of our concerns. As if we'd be worried about her,” Lucinda said. Of all the ways in which I had anticipated the reading could have taken a wrong turn, I had not expected hostility toward a spirit visitor.

“Spirits are very sensitive to any feeling that they are unwelcome. I feel the link weakening.”

“Lucinda, please, I have questions for Gladys. Do not drive her away.”

“Gladys, are you still here?” I paused for effect before continuing. “She is present but I feel her reluctance to stay. Perhaps it would be best to start with something simple.”

“Would you please ask her if she still seeks justice?” Orazelia wanted to know. I wondered exactly what a complicated question would involve if Orazelia felt a question concerning justice was a simple one.

“Gladys says the concept of justice is not relevant to those in spirit. She says they only feel unbounded love.”

“Unbounded love was part and parcel of her way of life when she was in the flesh, too,” Lucinda said. I felt her hand tugging away slightly as she leaned back in her chair. She was growing impatient with the spiritual visitor. But her mother was not. I wondered how they knew Gladys and how I should proceed.

“Lucy, my dear, please try to remember that you are a lady and that we do not say such things.” Orazelia's voice sounded
more sad than critical. “Ruby, ask if she needs resolution to the circumstances of her death.”

“She does not,” I said with conviction. The tremble in both the sitters' hands led me on. “But she realizes that the circumstances surrounding her passing are important to you. She will try to help ease your mind about it if she has the answers you seek.” Perhaps I had overreached but I didn't know what else to say.

“Can she see who killed her?” Orazelia asked. I was stunned. The idea that Gladys had been murdered had not crossed my mind. Disease and even accidental death were all too common, and the loss of loved ones, even young people in the prime of life, to such events was something that touched all but the luckiest few. But something as sensational as murder was rare indeed. This was going to require careful navigation. Especially since I didn't even know how these ladies knew Gladys.

“Gladys says the details of her passing are shrouded in uncertainty. Death came upon her quickly and without ceremony.” I cocked my head to the side as if to listen more carefully to the sound of Gladys's faint voice. “One moment she was here and the next she was beyond the reach of pain and suffering.”

“So she doesn't know any more about who killed her than we do?” Lucinda asked.

“She says she dearly wishes she could enlighten you but that she either never knew or the information was lost in the transmutation of her soul. Gladys says that those things unneeded in the hereafter are melted away during the getting from here to there like dross from silver. The gift of death is its ability to purify the spirit and rid it of burdens. Only light and love endure the journey.”