The Medium by Noëlle Sickels

Durkin said in a confidential tone although she was standing in plain hearing of all of them, “I’ve had to let in one new sitter tonight. She was so anxious. Her son, you see. Only twenty-one years old. Some murky business, I gathered.”
    â€œNo matter,” Ursula said.
    The doorbell rang, and Mrs. Durkin floated over to answer it. The other sitters had arrived all at once—Miss Simmons from the dentist’s office, this time without her beau; chirrupy Miss Portia Macy, an occasional client; and the first-timer, Mrs. Samuels, her gray hair pulled back into a tight bun, her black shirtwaist dress too loose for her slight form. She reminded Helen of a scrawny, wild kitten. She had that same air of wanting to be fed but also not wanting to be picked up.
    While Mrs. Durkin was introducing Mrs. Samuels to the rest of the group, Helen’s grandmother drew her out of the living room into the hallway leading to Mrs. Durkin’s sewing room.
    â€œYou remember what I told?” she said quietly.
    â€œThat I don’t have to work to make something happen? That I should just wait?”
    Ursula nodded. “You cannot tell a tree it must grow faster, or the sun it must come up earlier. So also here. The spirits will decide. And we will accept.”
    â€œBut what if nothing happens?”
    â€œYou are like the phone, Liebling. It only carries the voice that wants to use it. And we do not blame the phone if no one calls, do we?”
    In the dining room, there was some shuffling about before everyone got seated. Ursula specifically did not want Walter
beside any member of the family, which meant Mr. Grauer had to give up his accustomed chair. This disgruntled the old man, even though he knew that the proper positioning of sitters was essential to making the spirits feel welcome, and that unsuitable arrangements could not only block visitations, but also might open the door to disruptive spirits.
    â€œNever before have they required me to move,” Mr. Grauer grumbled under his breath. No one inquired whether “they” referred to people on this side of the grave or the other.
    He was mollified when Ursula seated him next to her. The places on either side of the medium were the most important ones. Ursula had told Helen these places should be filled by people with gentle, open hearts. Helen was assigned the other seat next to her grandmother.
    There was only one slender candle in the center of the table, and all the electric lights in the house were turned off. Ursula explained to everyone that the darkness would encourage communication from Mrs. Samuels’s son, who was recently departed. Apparently, new spirits could be self-conscious.
    â€œLet us put away doubts,” Ursula said, “for this little while. The spirits do not mind the skeptic. They like to come and teach the skeptic. But in the circle we must have harmony of purpose. If you cannot believe, you must at least suppose it may be possible.”
    Emilie intoned a brief invocation, and hands were laid flat on the table. Within seconds, Ursula removed her hands to her lap and closed her eyes. Helen did the same.
    The regulars began to sing softly, a German lullaby. Helen heard her father’s strong baritone join in after a few bars. Soon, however, no voice was distinct from any other. The tempo of the song corresponded to the tempo of a subtle buzzing in her ears that seemed to be coming from inside her own body. It wasn’t unpleasant, like a mosquito’s buzz. In fact, the sensation
was euphoric. Her mouth, seeming to act on its own, slowly formed a smile. The singing stopped. Helen felt as if the top of her head were opening up. Lazily, she opened her eyes. The people around the table looked like silhouettes cut from black paper.
    â€œAre there any spirits present?” Ursula said to the air.
    Suddenly, Helen felt a constriction around her neck. The peace and pleasure of a moment ago vanished. She put