Saving Cicadas (31 page)

“Human souls have a hole that needs to be filled up. But a person can fill that hole with one of two things . . . either the Holy Spirit, which is what God promises to believers, or the spirits of ghosts. You mother lives a spirit-filled life, yes, but with the wrong spirits. It's a common mistake. Until she is filled with the one true Holy Spirit from God, she will always hold onto something—you, me, anger, regret, loss.”

“So she's only holding on to us because she hasn't made peace with us? Is she gonna make peace with us like she did with Poppy?”

“I don't know, Janie. She might. I certainly hope so.”

“But then—”

“Then we'll be set free too. We'll be free to go up to heaven. It's what I've been waiting years for.”

“So I have to leave Mama? I don't want to leave Mama! I don't wanna leave!”

“She doesn't know you're here, Janie!” Grandma Mona grabbed my wrists but held me with her eyes. “I know how much you love her, but she doesn't know you at all. All she knows is she grieves over you, every day of her life. I know how she feels. I used to feel the same about giving Fritz away. Honey, don't you want your mama to be happy?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“If and when she makes peace with what she did to you, her grieving will be more bearable. She might be able to move on with her life. Don't you want that for her?”

“I guess, but—”

“I've been praying for it for years, Janie. And I believe it's going to happen. And when it does happen, your mama won't be able to hold on to the things that haunt her anymore.”

“Like me.”

“Yes. And me.”

The only way to describe how I was feeling was that baby in the Bible when the king decreed to cut it in half. I'd never felt so ripped apart in all my so-called life, and I wasn't sure if I could take it or not. Knowing how bad I was hurting, I was surprised the Lord didn't just snatch me up right then and there.

But he didn't.

And I had to go on, knowing I was what stood in the way of Mama ever being happy again. No child should ever feel that way. “Your Mama won't let me go,” said Grandma Mona. “She has unresolved feelings where I'm concerned. For the time being I'm bound here for her. And so are you. If and when she resolves her feelings for us, yes, we will leave this place. I have no guarantees for tomorrow here, and neither do you. Now, I know you're grieving and all sorts of things, but there's a life at stake. There'll be plenty of time to hash through all this feeling business later. Suffice it to say we have even more important things at task. We've got to make a plan now. And this time, it has to work.”

I left Grandma Mona's side and moved to the dresser. I saw propped-up photos of her and Poppy when they were younger. When they were alive. I couldn't focus on what Grandma Mona was saying anymore. I didn't care about any plan. I'd just lost my life, my mother. “I have no parents,” I said, feeling so empty.

“Rightly so, you are feeling sorry for yourself. But I assure you, you have a father in heaven. You are a child of God, and soon you will come to know what this means in all its glory. As for your earthly father, Harlan, well, he just recently learned of what your mother did to you. She finally told him about the abortion. It's why he left again. He's a very fragile man. Pathetic, if you ask me. Sorry. That was uncalled-for.”

“Grandma Mona?” I said, crumbling down onto the bed. “I still love Mama! I love her so much! You don't know how bad this feels. I feel like I'm gonna die.”

“Oh honey, if I could change it all, I would, but—”

“But what?”

“Do you remember when we were in the graveyard and I had you feel the words, the texture of the truth about Poppy?” I nodded. “It's important to feel things in order to know them. This pain you're feeling right now . . . would you ever wish this on someone else?”

“No! Never!”

Grandma Mona grew silent. She pursed her lips. She opened her mouth and closed it again. Finally she said, “Janie, time is running out. You have a baby sister in your mother's tummy right now. By this time tomorrow, there will be no more baby. Honey, your mother's not thinking straight. She is so deceived by fear and grief and loneliness, she is planning to end it all. Again.”

I grabbed her arm and squeezed, my mouth dropped wide open. I wanted to scream but nothing would come out.

“It's true, Janie. Either your mother will be raising this baby, or you and I will. You are your little sister's only hope in this world.”

“But I'm nothing! I'm not even real! I'm just a bad memory for her!”

“Oh, honey, you're not just a bad memory for your mama. You're a light in her life. Why, look out there. See that big moon? You're just as bright as that. Brighter, even. You do what you need to do, Janie Doe. Life is worth saving. You understand that now. Don't let anything stand in your way.”

Chapter Fifty-six
SIDEWALK WRITING

The next morning, Friday, Mama woke up at six thirty. I was still up from the night before, waiting for her in the kitchen. At some point in the night, I was no longer tired. Grandma Mona told me the more I learned about myself, the more I'd start to change. Sure enough, I didn't need sleep anymore.

I wasn't hungry either, though I hadn't eaten in a couple days. “The spirit doesn't hunger for food,” said Grandma Mona, and anyway, everything had always tasted the same to me, like peaches and strawberries or chicken or cheese. Bland, flavorless. Grandma Mona explained how only certain senses were alive for me in my mother's world—hearing, touch, sight, smell—and once I realized it, I could see colors not even seen in the rainbow, hear music dancing on the wind, smell flowers from miles away. I learned that my grandmother had provided for me all I'd ever needed in the world—spiritual clothes, spiritual paper to write my lists. Everything a child like me would need.

It was hard at first to learn the truth about me. I spent most of the day in tears. But as the night wore on and I finally accepted what Grandma Mona was saying, I felt I'd grown up overnight. Things began to make sense to me—how Mama never reached for me or took me in her arms, why she never saw my lists and notes, or why Uncle Fritz never spoke to me directly. I don't want to say it was agood thing, but at least they weren't ignoring me just to be mean.

Mama was distracted while the sun was rising on Vinca Lane. Her tired eyes danced around the kitchen like they couldn't decide what they wanted to look at. She walked to the counter and scoured the cabinets for a canister of regular Maxwell House.

“See that? She doesn't mind the caffeine anymore, Janie,” said Grandma Mona. “She's given up on this baby. Mark my words.”

The phone rang, and Mama just looked toward the living room where it sat on a little stand. She didn't move to answer it. Instead, she slowly poured the water into the coffeemaker.

“It's Fritz,” said Grandma Mona. “I bet he's worried. He's calling to check in on Priscilla.”

I ran into the living room and picked up the receiver. I was able to move nonliving things, no problem. It was the living things I had no control over—peaches, bugs, worms, Mama. This, too, was a mystery explained to me now. I held the phone to my ear and heard Uncle Fritz's voice. “Priscilla? Hello?”

I tried to speak back but I knew he couldn't hear me. “Fritz, it's Janie. Mama's un-bornin' the baby today. You got to come over quick and get her not to do it!”

“Hello? Rainey, is that you?”

“Fritz, come quick!” I hollered. He said one last “Priscilla?” Then he hung up. I sat there like somebody'd kicked me in the stomach. Rainey came down the stairs with her hair all sticking up. She was holding the teddy bear Mrs. Arielle had given her. She saw me in the living room and said, “Where you sleep?”

“Wasn't really tired,” I said.

“Oh.”

She stumbled into the kitchen, where Mama was setting out her bowl of grits. She added a blob of butter and salt, just how Rainey liked it.

“Thanks, Mama,” said Rainey. “Don't forget Janie.”

“Okay, honey.” I watched as Mama went to grab a little bowl. She put a dollop of grits in it with no salt, no butter or anything, and set it to the left of Rainey. “Here, Janie. Hope you like it.” I was sitting on the
other
side of the table.

“Janie over there,” said Rainey. Mama moved the bowl without giving it another thought. How many times, how many days, had she simply done what Rainey told her, having no idea I was actually by her side?

I got up and left the kitchen. “Where you goin'?” asked Rainey.

“Just outside. I'm not hungry.”

“Okay. Be there minute.”

I went out on the front porch and sat in a rocking chair under the gazebo. I rocked and rocked. I looked out over the lawn. There was a slight breeze blowing through a weeping willow across the street. I could see Mrs. Shoemaker sitting on her front porch, rocking. She saw me and waved. I did not wave back. To passersby, she and I just looked like wind rocking those rockers and nothing else. I thought how strange it was for living folks, how they never see who's really around them.

I got up and walked into the grass. I stooped down and watched little bugs jumping from one blade of grass to another. I looked in the flower bed behind me. A tiny frog hopped. He hopped again.

“Hi, froggy, don't mind me,” I said. “I'm just a ghost. Not the scary kind though. More like Casper the Friendly Ghost. I'm a minister spirit like Poppy was. I've never been a minister or preacher or nothing before, but here I am.” The frog stood still, watching me, and his throat went in and out, in and out. I reached for him, but he jumped back in the mulch and hid behind a plant. “I won't hurt you,” I said. “I'm just a little girl ghost. I can't do any harm. Grandma Mona says I'm a child of God and it's against my nature to hurt anything, so you don't have to worry about me.” I heard the front door open and saw Rainey coming out. “ 'Course, my sister, you might want to watch out for her,” I whispered. “She's got a good grip.”

“Hey, Janie,” she said.

“Hey.”

“Mama go home Cypresswood when I go work,” she said. “She get clothes, stuff, and pick me up.”

“That's good,” I said. “I guess I'll go with her.”

“I wanna come,” said Rainey.

“No, Rainey. You got work, remember? I'll help Mama.”

She looked at me and thought about this. She bit her fingernail and looked back at the house. “Well, okay. Let play hopscotch.”

All morning long, I played hopscotch with my sister. I hugged her often. I laughed with her. I appreciated every bit of her, my big sister. I knew someday I'd have to leave her, but I couldn't think of that right now. Grandma Mona had told me not to think of anything else except how today was the most important day in my life. Today was the day I would go from being invisible to being a real family hero if all went well in Cypresswood.

“I got an idea, Rainey. Let's write some letters.” I motioned for her to pick up the chalk and said, “Bet you don't know how to spell
baby
.”

“Do too,” she said. Then she proceeded to show me how. She sprawled the word all over the sidewalk in big letters and little letters, upside down and every-which-a-way. Mama'd be forced to see her fortune the minute she tried to leave.

Chapter Fifty-seven
THE BOOK OF LIFE

After the lunch dishes were cleared, Grandma Mona came to find me in the garden by the strawberry patch. I'd been sitting there for a while, letting everything settle in. I was as tight and twisted as a vine around a tree. She bent down and said, “It's almost time to leave, honey.”

“I've been thinking,” I told her. “You understand all this a lot more than me. I don't know if I can do this right, Grandma Mona. If Mama doesn't even know I'm here, why do I need to go? Why can't you go instead?”

Grandma Mona surprised me by plopping right down on the ground next to me. It was amazing to see her body move like someone younger. The sunlight glowed in her pretty blonde hair.

“Oh, honey,” she said. “Because she wouldn't listen to me. It's just how it is with mothers and daughters. When I whisper in her ear, I'm her voice of condemnation. She's managed to tune me out over the years, but you—you are and have always been her voice of optimism, of hope, of unconditional love. She hears your whispers, feels them, loves them, even. And the love of a child is the only thing that will keep her from doing what she's planning to do today. So you see, it must be you.”

I looked up at the peach tree and thought about climbing it. I wanted to hide. This task seemed too big for me.

“You know what else?” she said.

“What?”

“You grandfather left something for you. He asked me to give it to you at just the right time. I think it's now.”

“Poppy left something for me?” I looked around at her hands, and she pulled out a folded piece of paper. It did not seem to be regular paper, but an old type, parchment maybe. I opened it slowly and feasted my eyes.

Dear sweet Janie,

If you are reading this, then it 's come to the point you must know the truth. How wonderful to learn that you are a child of God, that you have a place here in heaven waiting for you, that you are needed by the ones you love!

Your mother needs you more now than ever.

By now, your Grandma Mona has told you most of what you must know. But there is something else I need to explain about you, your name, in particular. You see, your mother never gave you the name Janie Doe. Your Grandma Mona called you this as a filler, a nickname. Your real name is a powerful thing. Every believer's name is written in the Book of Life, and you, my child, are no different.