I was, though I didn’t know why it would be, a made thing that didn’t feel like a person and was supposed to comfort and protect us, anyway. But I went over and knelt beside it and scratched it along the flank, and it licked me just as you would think it should, if it were really the dog it looked like. For as long as I could remember it had been big and strong and loyal, warm and furry and comforting, and I wanted to stay leaning against it for a long spell, but I needed to be sure, I needed to go and look. And my courage, such a little thing as it was, wouldn’t last for long. I needed to go right away, before I curled up with the Minister and didn’t move again until Gospel came back to laugh at me, or the fog closed in on us all.
So with my hand on the Minister’s head, and it pacing along beside me radiating strength and warmth, I walked across the cold floor of the sitting room, and into the warmer kitchen, where the hen was pecking around as if there were somehow food on the floor. The big chair was still sitting on top of the cellar door and nothing had been moved out of place, and I felt a mix of happy and confused and scared because it didn’t make any sense, and I looked down at the Minister with its tongue hanging a little out.
“Are there ghosts?” I asked it, really softly.
“The dead go to Heaven,” the Minister said, which was true but didn’t answer the question. Its voice was softer than you would think from such a thing as it was, and not just because it was trying to be quiet, like me.
“But do they ever come back?”
It whined, the Minister who was supposed to protect me and steer me from evil, and I wanted to cry because I felt so lost and alone. I knelt down right then and started to pray to the Good Lord to bring Gospel back lickety-split and to keep me safe and to hold Mama close to Him, so that she couldn’t come down and sing to me any longer, couldn’t move around, couldn’t … I don’t know what all. And the Minister gave me an Amen at the end, and I realized I had breathed out my prayers loud enough to be heard, but that, I supposed, didn’t much matter right then.
I didn’t want to be in the kitchen, and I didn’t want to sit back at the loom and maybe find myself hearing the song again, so I went into the bedroom, where even if there’d be a bit of awfulness, at least I was far from the worst of it. The Minister paced beside me, tossing a look behind us over its shoulder that made me even more nervous. I climbed onto the big bed and curled up with the covers pulled over me. The Minister flopped down just beside me, next to the hearth, where the fire was still stirred up. I was feeling so fretful and fearful that I thought I’d lie there, eyes open, for hours, but instead, I was dead asleep in minutes.
S EVEN
There were voices talking but I couldn ’ t make out the words, and for a moment in my slumberous state I thought it was Mama and Papa, which caused me to jolt awake all at once and then realize it was just Gospel and a voice I recognized right quick as Jenny Gone, talking in the other room. They weren’t very loud, and I wondered how I had woken up, but then I thought about what was in the cellar and I knew. I was scared right through, and I didn’t think I’d ever sleep very deep again, whatever came.
It was barely light outside, the bit of the end of the day when it got all dim and special, only with snow falling it was just almost dark and nothing pretty about it. I rubbed at my eyes and then got up out of bed still in my coat and all. The Minister looked up at me from by the hearth and then dropped its head back down, but I could tell it was listening close like always. I paid it no mind and walked out to say how do you do to the company. It wasn’t quite what I expected, though. Gospel was sitting in Papa’s chair, layers piled up around him, looking almost the same as when he had left but for being more pale, like he was a little scared. It
So with my hand on the Minister’s head, and it pacing along beside me radiating strength and warmth, I walked across the cold floor of the sitting room, and into the warmer kitchen, where the hen was pecking around as if there were somehow food on the floor. The big chair was still sitting on top of the cellar door and nothing had been moved out of place, and I felt a mix of happy and confused and scared because it didn’t make any sense, and I looked down at the Minister with its tongue hanging a little out.
“Are there ghosts?” I asked it, really softly.
“The dead go to Heaven,” the Minister said, which was true but didn’t answer the question. Its voice was softer than you would think from such a thing as it was, and not just because it was trying to be quiet, like me.
“But do they ever come back?”
It whined, the Minister who was supposed to protect me and steer me from evil, and I wanted to cry because I felt so lost and alone. I knelt down right then and started to pray to the Good Lord to bring Gospel back lickety-split and to keep me safe and to hold Mama close to Him, so that she couldn’t come down and sing to me any longer, couldn’t move around, couldn’t … I don’t know what all. And the Minister gave me an Amen at the end, and I realized I had breathed out my prayers loud enough to be heard, but that, I supposed, didn’t much matter right then.
I didn’t want to be in the kitchen, and I didn’t want to sit back at the loom and maybe find myself hearing the song again, so I went into the bedroom, where even if there’d be a bit of awfulness, at least I was far from the worst of it. The Minister paced beside me, tossing a look behind us over its shoulder that made me even more nervous. I climbed onto the big bed and curled up with the covers pulled over me. The Minister flopped down just beside me, next to the hearth, where the fire was still stirred up. I was feeling so fretful and fearful that I thought I’d lie there, eyes open, for hours, but instead, I was dead asleep in minutes.
S EVEN
There were voices talking but I couldn ’ t make out the words, and for a moment in my slumberous state I thought it was Mama and Papa, which caused me to jolt awake all at once and then realize it was just Gospel and a voice I recognized right quick as Jenny Gone, talking in the other room. They weren’t very loud, and I wondered how I had woken up, but then I thought about what was in the cellar and I knew. I was scared right through, and I didn’t think I’d ever sleep very deep again, whatever came.
It was barely light outside, the bit of the end of the day when it got all dim and special, only with snow falling it was just almost dark and nothing pretty about it. I rubbed at my eyes and then got up out of bed still in my coat and all. The Minister looked up at me from by the hearth and then dropped its head back down, but I could tell it was listening close like always. I paid it no mind and walked out to say how do you do to the company. It wasn’t quite what I expected, though. Gospel was sitting in Papa’s chair, layers piled up around him, looking almost the same as when he had left but for being more pale, like he was a little scared. It
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