As if Ruthie really needed reminding. She crept outside, easing the front door closed behind her. Cordless phone in hand, she went down the front steps and into the driveway.
“How did you get this number?” Ruthie asked. Their number was unlisted, impossible to find.
“I’m sorry if I did anything to scare you off,” Candace said brightly. “I was just so shocked to see the wallets, to hear your story. I’m really glad you answered—there’s so much I didn’t get a chance to ask you.”
The night was cold and clear; the stars were brilliant. Ruthie looked up and saw Orion overhead, remembered her father teaching her to follow the line of stars that made up Orion’s belt to find the star Aldebaran, which was the eye of Taurus the bull. Taurus was her father’s astrological sign, and though she’d never admit it to anyone, she sometimes imagined it was him up there, looking down on her.
She made out the Big and Little Dippers, the frosty Milky Way stretched out across the middle of the sky.
“Is Alice still missing?” Candace asked.
“Alice?” Ruthie stammered, mind racing.
“Your mother, dear.” She spoke slowly, as if Ruthie were a young child. “You said she’d disappeared?”
“But—I didn’t tell you her name.”
“So she’s still gone?” Candace sounded almost hopeful, excited by the prospect.
“I’m going to hang up now,” Ruthie said, in full panic mode. “I’m sorry to have bothered you today. I think I made a mistake.”
“Oh, it was no mistake,” Candace said. “Please don’t hang up. There are things I can tell you.”
“What things?” Ruthie watched her breath come out in great clouds of steam as she spoke.
“Like about Hannah,” Candace said, voice teasing, luring Ruthie in. “My precious girl. There’s not a day that’s gone by when I haven’t thought of her. I know this might sound crazy, but I never believed she was gone. There were times when I could almost feel her out there, waiting to be found. Does that even make sense?”
“Yes,” Ruthie found herself saying as she leaned back and looked up at the stars, which made her feel suddenly dizzy. Head spinning, phone clenched in her hand, she thought about chemical elements, pink cupcakes, green bears; about the ways everything was connected. Maybe it wasn’t all so random. “Yes.”
And then she hung up the phone.
Visitors from the Other Side
The Secret Diary of Sara Harrison Shea
January 25, 1908
Gertie had always loved the closet so. How she enjoyed hiding there, leaping out to surprise me. One time, I discovered her curled up in the back corner, napping on a pile of mending.
“What are you doing in here, love?” I’d asked her.
“I am a bear in a warm cave,” she told me. “I am hide-r-nating.”
Gertie?” I called to her this morning. “Are you in there?”
I stood before the closet door and knocked gently.
I was still in my nightgown, my bare feet cold on the smooth wooden floor. The sun was just up over the hill, giving the bedroom a soft glow through the window. I caught sight of myself in the mirror atop the dresser. I looked like a madwoman: pale, thin, dark circles under my eyes, tangles in my hair, nightgown tattered and stained.
I held my breath, waiting.
Then Gertie knocked back!
I turned the doorknob, pulling, but she held fast from the other side with a strength that surprised me.
“Won’t you please come out and let me see you?”
The door would not budge. There was only a small scuttling sound from inside the closet.
“It’s all right. Papa’s gone. He went up the hill to hunt.”
I knew she would not come out if he was near. Last night, even though I knew she was in there, I obeyed Martin and went back to bed. But I could not sleep. I lay on my side, my eyes fixed on the closet. I saw the door inch open, the glint of an eye looking through the crack. I waved at her in the dark.
Hello, my wave called. Hello, hello! Welcome back, my dear, sweet girl!
Martin was up and dressed early.
“It’s not even light out,” I said when I saw him.
“I’m going to go look for that buck. His tracks are all over the woods. If I can get him, we’ll have meat for the rest of the winter. I’ll do the chores and head into the woods; then I have some things I need to do in town. I’ll be back for supper.”
“Do you want breakfast?” I asked, rising out of bed. I thought this would please him—seeing me up and about, offering to cook.
He shook his head. “I’ll wrap up some biscuits and salt pork.” He limped down the stairs, started a fire, let the dog out, packed up some food, and fetched his gun. At last, the front door opened, then closed.
I watched out the window as he crossed the yard. As soon as he was out of sight, I ran to the closet.
How relieved I was to know for certain that it was not a dream!
I tugged at the door again, but she held tight.