Free A Drowned Maiden's Hair by Laura Amy Schlitz Page B

the shadows of the room, checking the places where a ghost might materialize. “Miss Clarke said there was no such thing as ghosts.”
    “Not ghosts.” Hyacinth’s face crinkled with amusement. “We never say ‘ghost,’ child. Spirits. Good spirits who come back from the dead.”
    Maud shook her head.
    “Jesus of Nazareth,” Victoria said unexpectedly. “Jesus Christ rose from the dead.”
    Maud gave her a skeptical glance. “Jesus was different.”
    “What Victoria means,” Hyacinth explained, “is that part of our Christian faith is the belief that the spirit cannot die. The body dies, but the spirit lives on after death.”
    “In heaven,” Maud stipulated.
    “Ye-es . . .” agreed Hyacinth, but she drew the word out, as if she didn’t quite agree. “Do you know what spiritualism is, Maud?”
    Again, Maud shook her head.
    It was Victoria who answered. “Spiritualism is a religion. Spiritualists believe that the spirits of the dead dwell with God. They have been made pure, and they wish to help the living on earth.”
    “Victoria is a spiritualist,” commented Judith.
    Maud turned interested eyes on Victoria. “Is that why you never go to church?”
    Hyacinth’s smile broadened, but Victoria remained serious. “Yes, it is. Spiritualists don’t believe that God is kept inside a church. We believe that He is present all around us, and He has no need of priests or ministers. We believe that all men and women — women, too, mind you — are equal in the sight of God. The Lord speaks directly to every one of us.”
    Maud considered this. “I think I’m a Catholic,” she said politely, “but spiritualism sounds good, too. I like it that you don’t go to church.”
    Hyacinth giggled. “Oh, Maud, you are the most delicious child!” — but Judith shook her head.
    “We seem to be wandering from the point,” complained Judith. “She doesn’t have to know everything about spiritualism.”
    “I wanted her to know that there was another side —” began Victoria. Her cheeks were flushed with annoyance. This time it was Hyacinth who interrupted.
    “You may tell her as much as you like later on. Judith is right. We ought to go on. Maud, do you know what a medium is?”
    Maud’s puzzlement increased. “It’s between good and bad,” she answered. “Or hot or cold. It’s halfway between two things.”
    “No,” Hyacinth said. “Or rather, yes, that’s one kind of medium, but there is another. In spiritualism, a medium is one who can call up the spirits of the dead.”
    “You mean — raise the ghosts?”
    “Not ghosts,” Hyacinth said irritably. “For heaven’s sake, child, take that word out of your vocabulary! No, a medium is a person who stands between the living and the dead. The medium can put the living in touch with the spirits.” She paused, waiting for the words to sink in. “And because a great many people miss their loved ones, sometimes they pay a medium a lot of money in order to speak with those who have gone before.”
    She let the words trail off. Maud gazed into Hyacinth’s face. The old woman’s eyes were sparkling with mischief and pride. Maud sensed that there was something she was meant to guess. When she realized what it was, her hand shot up, as if she were in school. “I know!” she cried out triumphantly. “You’re a medium!”
    Hyacinth nodded demurely. She lowered her lashes, her lips curved like the mouth of a cat. “I have that power, yes,” she acknowledged. “Not always, but sometimes, the spirits speak through me —”
    A thought flashed through Maud’s head like a jag of lightning. “Could you find my mother?” she begged. She forgot her manners and knelt up on her chair, straining across the table toward Hyacinth. “Could you make it so I could talk to my mother?”
    She was startled by the sound of Victoria’s chair scraping against the floor. Victoria was halfway to the door. “I can’t bear this,” the old woman said in a low, taut