“Oh!” said Emily, and Callie knew she had found it.
Callie sang the note, and the room, with its perfect acoustics, picked up the tone and propelled it. As the sound moved, it broke into fragments that circled the room separately, coming together and then splitting apart again, bouncing off the granite walls; the room itself had become a singing bowl.
Note splitting was something Callie had never achieved before. Still holding the original note, she laid her hands on Emily’s right side. The area started to warm and then began to vibrate, first intermittently, then more and more steadily.
Callie moved to Emily’s feet and removed her slippers. “Send what’s hurting you down to me,” she said, gently touching Emily’s toes. “Let the pain go.”
Callie sang, and the fractured tone again circled the room. She felt no energy at all from Emily’s feet. Then the strands of sound came back together in a quick burst of energy that was so astonishing it felt the way Callie imagined a lightning strike might; the force of it almost knocked her to the ground. She grabbed the table for support and waited until the tone faded to complete silence before she dared to speak. “Did you feel that?”
Emily was so still that Callie feared she had killed her. Then she opened her eyes and said in breathless amazement, “The pain is gone.”
With Callie’s help, Emily sat up. She was still too weak to stand so she faced Callie, readjusting the emerald ring she wore on her right hand. She looked up and met Callie’s eyes, holding her gaze for a long time.
“Thank you.”
Callie had trouble shaking off the energy Emily had released during their session. She tried to meditate but couldn’t relax. She took a hot bath, then, finally, a nap.
She dreamed of the hedge bush. She felt herself held captive inside a maze of branches, in a thick liquid that oozed like blood. All of her nightmare images were trapped with her in the abyss alongside the severed openings where tree limbs should have grown. She could hear harp music in the distance, drowned out quickly by another sound.
The piercing scream was so high pitched and loud she could feel her blood vessels bursting. When she could bear it no longer, she simply let go, surrendering herself to its power.
That the banshee can kill is a given. But any killing done in anger exacts a heavy toll. The banshee and the dying become as one. Time shifts, then stands eternal, in the moment the joined spirits pass between the realms.
—ROSE’S Book of Trees
The Holiday House Tour was a charitable event, and people from all over the North Shore bought tickets and roamed freely through Pride’s Heart, invading any space that wasn’t roped off.
Finn called the tour a “ladies’ event.” He and Paul always cleared out early, ostensibly to do their Christmas shopping in Boston followed by dinner at the Harvard Club. Today, they were running late, because Finn was still rifling through things in the library, looking for his glasses.
“You didn’t find those yet?” Emily asked, sounding put out. “With your glaucoma, I don’t know why you don’t keep a second pair.”
“I have bad eyes,” he said. “I do have a second pair of glasses, but they’re simply not strong enough anymore. And you know as well as I do that the glasses don’t do a damned thing for glaucoma.”
“You’re on two medications, but it’s still getting worse. You should let Callie treat you with her bowls.”
Paul said, “She’d be happy to do it, Dad.”
“Not interested.”
“Not interested in what?” Callie asked, entering the room.
“No one’s interested in helping me find my damned glasses,” Finn said.
“You lost your glasses?” She’d always considered them an affectation. Finn had found a designer frame that almost perfectly matched his brown eyes, tortoiseshell with the same flecks of green, yellow, and blue. She’d wondered if he’d had them fabricated expressly for him. It seemed like something he’d do.
“It appears I did. You haven’t seen them, have you, Callie?”
“No, but I’ll help you look.” Callie started checking shelves, the mantel, any flat surface he might have laid them on without thinking.
They all searched quietly and unsuccessfully for a few minutes before Finn gave up. “I’ll take these,” he said, grabbing his older, weaker pair from the desk drawer. “Let’s get out of here before the ‘fun’ begins.”
The two men took their leave, and Callie noticed Finn’s eyes looked bloodshot.
Both women followed them into the foyer. The Christmas tree in the front hall towered up to the vaulted ceiling.
“Notice that neither of them is driving,” Emily said, pointing to the chauffeured town car that waited outside. “Which is a good thing, considering the condition you’ll see them in upon their return. To say they’ll be doing a little tippling tonight would be an understatement.”
Emily looked so much better to Callie, though everyone including Paul was cautioning her to take it easy playing hostess today.
As Callie admired the tree, the docents and the carolers arrived, soon followed by the staff, who would serve wassail punch to the tourists.
“Have you seen Marta’s house yet?” Emily asked.
“I haven’t.”
“You should. The foundation arranged for it to be decorated by local designers. And the house itself is something to behold. The only change that’s been made since it was built was the addition of the saltbox kitchen. And that happened hundreds of years ago.”
“I’ll see it some other day. I want to help you out with the crowds.”
“Please. I feel wonderful. And I have plenty of help. Go. Enjoy a quick look. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Callie had wanted to let Marta know about Rose coming to Christmas dinner in person, but Marta had caught the flu and declined all visits. Indeed, she’d sounded terrible when Callie had called. “Can I do anything for you? Bring you chicken soup or something?”
“Just let me rest,” Marta had said, and Callie had accommodated her. “I’ll call you if I need anything.”
The call never came.