‘Maybe later,’ I said, shrugging it off. ‘I am going to spend an hour with Helena, okay?’
Jack chewed on his bottom lip but held back his retort. ‘All right, whatever you want,’ he said.
‘What are you going to do?’ I asked.
Jack checked his timepiece and clucked his tongue. ‘Well, Mrs. Mathers down the road did want me to stop by today … her husband is running a fever.’
I nodded. ‘You should go and help her then.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course.’ I stood up and gathered the memory cards I had made for Helena. I wasn’t a very good artist, so the word ‘Dog’ barely matched up with my sketch. Jack had been kind enough to draw most of them. He was far more creative than I.
‘I didn’t want to work on your birthday,’ said Jack, hesitantly.
‘You need to make money,’ I said, fairly. ‘Don’t worry about me. We’ll catch up later. There are some things I need to do.’
‘Well … if you’re sure-’
‘I am,’ I said stubbornly. ‘Now go.’
Jack smiled. ‘All right. I’ll see you in an hour or two.’
He bent down and kissed my cheek before opening the bedroom door.
‘Thank you for the gift,’ I said, touching the locket on my chest.
Giving me a quick wink, Jack slid through the door, closing it behind himself.
Chapter Two
Hawthorne’s Disinterest
Once I was sure Jack was gone, I sat back down on my bed and took a deep breath. Working with Helena required some level of mental preparation. I turned the locket between my thumb and forefinger, thinking to myself.
I didn’t want to delay any further. Hoisting myself up, I left the room and made my way down the hall. Stupidly, I knocked on Helena’s door, as if she might answer, and give me permission to enter. Scolding myself under my breath, I opened the door and entered.
It was dark inside, as the curtains were drawn, and it smelled a little bit of urine. Helena had wet herself again. Usually she knew to use the bedpan, but often she had nightmares, and when she did, would have accidents.
I crossed the small room and drew the curtains over her bed, allowing light to flood through. Helena was awake, and she watched me as I opened the window to let fresh air circulate through the room.
‘Hey,’ I said, smiling down at her tiny frame, wrapped in blankets.
Helena stared at me. I couldn’t handle the smell much longer.
‘Come on,’ I said to her, lifting the blankets away. At once, I saw that she was very damp.
Getting Helena out of bed, I went about cleaning her up. I took the sheets from her mattress and removed her nightgown, throwing them into the corner.
Getting a bucket of water from the well beside the house, I took it to the washroom, where I gently cleaned Helena with the warm, soapy water. She stood there and allowed me to clean her tiny body without complaint.
Lifting her arm, I moved the sponge under her armpit. As soon as it touched her skin, Helena dropped her arm at once and shied away.
Confused, I checked the sponge to make sure I had not harmed her. The sponge was fine. I tried to lift Helena’s arm again, but she refused, folding her arms across her chest protectively.
‘What’s the matter?’ I asked her.
Helena tucked her hands under her armpits, and suddenly, an idea struck me.
‘Did that … did that tickle?’ I asked her.
Helena, of course, did not respond.
‘You’re ticklish!’ I said, grinning broadly. Helena had not shown a playful streak since we had brought her home. Now might be the chance to help bring back the memory of being a child.
‘I’m coming for you,’ I said warningly, a smile plastered to my face.
Grabbing Helena playfully, I began to tickle her ribs, and under her arms. She shrieked with apparent delight, trying to wriggle free from my grip.
‘I’ve got you!’ I laughed, burying my fingers into her armpits, making her squeal.
Crash, bang, thump.
My mother came crashing into the washroom, her face flushed.
‘What’s going on?’ she panted, looking around.
I dropped Helena at once, who backed against the wall, apparently frightened of my mother’s sudden appearance.
‘Nothing,’ I said quickly.
‘I heard screaming,’ my mother said, her eyes snapping from Helena to myself. ‘What did you do?’
‘I didn’t do anything,’ I said, straightening up. ‘We were playing.’
‘Playing?’ my mother repeated, an edge to her voice.
‘Yes,’ I said, rather annoyed, ‘and you scared her.’
She sighed with apparent pity. ‘Avalon … just … just get her dressed, okay?’
Muttering to myself, I wrapped Helena in a towel and took her back to her bedroom, where I dressed her in fresh clothes. She remained emotionless while I dressed her, lifting her legs into the dress I provided, and allowing me to pull it up and over her shoulders.
Sitting her down upon her bed, I pulled out the flash-cards that I had been using to try to jog her memory.