The Line by J. D. Horn Page B

and more important than she had any right to. She saw herself as the sun, and expected us to spend our lives orbiting around her.” Ellen stopped talking as a tourist trolley pulled up alongside us. Something about its arrival put an end to her candor. “What a fine pair we are, speaking so poorly of the dead,” she concluded. Her forehead creased and she folded her arms around herself.
    “Will the police be able to release the body in time for the memorial?” I asked, trying to bring her back out of her private thoughts.
    “I don’t know, dear. Oliver is working on getting the body released, but I’m afraid it might be a few more days or even weeks before we’ll be able to lay Ginny to rest.” She paused. “I have to apologize to you, Mercy. I couldn’t help you when you were hurt.”
    “What happened wasn’t your fault, Aunt Ellen.”
    “But it was, in a way,” she began to tear up. “I wasn’t reachable when Iris called me. After you found Ginny, that is. I’m sure you know why I wasn’t home, why none of you knew where I was. Hell, I didn’t even know where I was. If I hadn’t been passed out, I would have answered my phone. I am going to quit drinking. I know, I’ve tried before…But this time I’m going to do it.” She looked squarely at me. “For real, this time, sugar. Do you hear me?”
    I desperately wanted to believe her. For her sake. I smiled and tried to pull her to me, but she pushed away.
    “I’m not through,” she said, determination putting lines on her forehead. Her knitted eyebrows exposed her cornflower blue eyes and made them seem somehow larger. “I couldn’t help you. Do you understand? I tried to heal you. Iris and Connor brought you to me before taking you to the hospital. It should have been easy. You had a jolt, but you’re young and strong and healthy, and I should have been able to heal you. Instead, I could have let you die.” The tears flowed heavily down her cheeks.
    “I wasn’t hurt that bad!” I exclaimed. “Just knocked for a loop.”
    “You were unconscious for days,” Ellen said.
    It was true, helping me should have been a no-brainer for her. Out of my mother’s three siblings, I was most in awe of Ellen’s talents. I’d seen her stop bleeding cold and regulate the beat of a heart. Once I witnessed her bring someone back from the brink of death. I was scared to go near her for days after that. And maybe she had caught death’s attention by straddling the threshold between life and death for too long, because her own son and husband were killed in a traffic pileup a week later. I was certain that she blamed herself for what had happened. Nowadays she spent most of her time hiding from the sun with a cold glass of something strong in her hand.
    “I don’t know what’s happened to me. I can barely patch up a scraped knee on my own these days,” Ellen continued. “You were in the hospital for a full day before I could locate your essence. Even then, I needed Maisie’s help to pull you back from your coma. But you wait and see; I’m going to get things back together. You have faith in me even if no one else will, okay, darlin’?”
    “I do have faith in you.” This time she didn’t resist when I pulled her into my arms. I didn’t think the alcohol could be the only thing interfering with her powers, but I knew now was not the time to kick out any of Ellen’s supports.
    “Will you walk me back into the house?” she asked. “I can’t face that bunch of buzzards on my own.” We took a few more steps, and she stopped again. “What do you think she wanted? Why did Ginny want to see you?”
    “Honestly,” I lied, “I haven’t the darnedest.” We turned down Perry and headed home.
    Folk usually chose to cross the street rather than passing directly in front of our house, an almost embarrassingly large, but still graceful, Victorian that took up the better part of the block. Maybe they crossed out of respect or fear, or maybe a century