Free The Medium by Noëlle Sickels Page A

dream?”
    â€œDream? I don’t know. I suppose maybe I did.”
    â€œDid you dream about … about a person?”
    Mrs. Steltman appeared briefly startled, then she shook her head slowly.
    â€œWhat a queer child you are, Helen.”
    Mary and Rosie burst into the room, both giggling. It was hard to get Mary to laugh at the best of times, and since her mother fell ill six months earlier, she’d been even more somber. Helen guessed that after seeing Mrs. Steltman’s condition, the soft-hearted Rosie had made a real effort.
    â€œGo on, you silly girls,” Mrs. Steltman scolded jokingly. “Let a person have some peace.”
    â€œWant to go out back and watch for shooting stars?” Mary offered.
    â€œSure,” Rosie agreed.
    Helen was the last one out of the room, and when she glanced back, she saw that Mrs. Steltman’s father had returned and was standing closer to her.
    There was no moon, so the sky was populous with stars. The Milky Way was clearly visible through the leafless tree branches. Mary had brought out a couple of old, moth-eaten blankets. She spread one on the ground, and when they had all lain down, Rosie in the middle, they arranged the other blanket over themselves, with much tugging and good-natured squabbling.
Once settled, they lay scanning the sky and listening to the wind brush through the tall pines at the end of the yard. The top blanket was scratchy under Helen’s chin, but she rather liked the cozy setup. She was almost able to forget the tough times ahead for poor Mary. If only there were some way to reassure her in advance.
    â€œMy mother says a shooting star is an angel bringing someone an important message,” Rosie said.
    â€œThat’s daffy,” Mary scoffed. “Everyone knows shooting stars are meteors.”
    â€œIt’s not daffy,” Rosie bridled. “It’s a pretty story, like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, or the tooth fairy.”
    â€œBaby stuff,” Mary insisted.
    â€œStories aren’t just for babies,” Rosie countered. “Stories are fun. Or sometimes they’re exciting.”
    â€œOr sometimes sad,” Helen put in. “But sad in a good way.”
    â€œSad in a good way?” Mary said scornfully.
    â€œWell, sometimes when you feel sad, you can feel glad at the same time. About some other part of something. Oh, I’m not explaining it very well.”
    â€œYou can bet on that,” Mary said.
    Rosie twitched her legs, and Mary complained she’d pulled the blanket off her feet. All three had to shift around to make it right. Helen sensed Rosie’s forbearance waning. After a few immobile minutes, Rosie sat up abruptly, bringing the blanket up with her.
    â€œHey!” Mary complained.
    â€œBah, I don’t think we’re going to see any meteors anyway,” Rosie said.
    Mary rose to the bait. “Yeah, I guess the angels don’t have any messages tonight.”
    Rosie stood up and marched off, heading back to Helen’s. While Mary folded up the blanket that had covered them, Helen
shook out the bottom one to get off bits of dried grass.
    â€œYou know, Mary, maybe it’s not from angels, but there are messages that can come from the other side.”
    Mary hugged the folded blanket to her chest.
    â€œMy mother told me, Helen, never to talk to you about stuff like that. You know, about your grandmother and those nutty people who believe in … in all that.”
    Helen’s temper flared momentarily, but she quelled it. Mary was only obeying her mother, after all. A mother she’d shortly have to mourn.
    â€œWell, your mother might think differently after she’s on the other side herself.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” There was panic in Mary’s voice.
    â€œShe’s going there soon, Mary.”
    â€œWhat are you saying? Are you saying my mother’s going to die?”
    â€œDon’t worry. Your