The Spirit Room Read Online Free PDF Page A

finished, she would sleep. Usually Clara slept on one side of the girls’ bed, Izzie on the other, and Euphora in the middle. Tonight Izzie wasn’t there, though. After Izzie had tucked them under the quilt and read for a while about Judith and Deerslayer, she told them she had to go downstairs and read more of the Andrew Jackson Davis Spiritualism book.
     
    Clara had been listening for Billy to come back and slip into his bed, but he hadn’t. Papa had scared him badly this time. Was he wandering out in the snow or hiding under an awning or in a doorway somewhere? Maybe he was curled up in the parlor downstairs on the sofa. If he didn’t show up soon, she would go down and see.
     
    Papa was sobbing hard. The soft skin inside of Clara’s mouth was sore from her biting it. She tried to stop, but couldn’t. Papa would be all right without Mamma in due course, she thought, and so would Billy and Izzie and Euphora. They would all take care of Papa. She and Izzie would become mediums and Billy had his job at the tree nursery. They could keep up with their room and board until Papa found work. Mrs. Purcell, the landlady, would feed them well and they would stay in her beautiful house with the gardens. She and Izzie might even become famous like Papa wanted and make him as proud as he ever was in his whole life. Then he wouldn’t shove at Billy or drink so much liquor. Everything would be all right. If she could just make Papa believe it.
     
    “Almira!”
     
    Papa was so loud this time that Euphora stirred. Grabbing the pillow she shared with Euphora out from under their heads, Clara pressed it over her left ear. But Papa’s moans filtered through, straight into her. What if he decided to run away and leave them like he did before? The taste of blood spread onto her tongue. If she told him things would get better maybe he would believe her. She had to try.
     
    She slid from the bed and tiptoed across the cold floor toward his door. It was nearly pitch-dark and, besides following the sound of Papa’s wailing and weeping, she had to feel her way, brushing the end of the bed, then one ladder-back chair, then the family table, then a second ladder-back.
     
    She jammed her toes on the runner of Mamma’s rocking chair and grunted at the pain. The chair set off rocking, thrumming on the wood floor.
     
    “Mamma, is that you?” Euphora said.
     
    Clara lurched toward the chair and seized both arms to halt it. “No. It’s me. Clara.”
     
    She let go of the chair. It resumed a gentle rock. She swallowed. “Mamma?” Waving her hand in the air over the seat, she searched the darkness. Nothing. She let out a sigh. That would be just like Mamma to come back as a spirit and sit in her own rocker. Then Papa moaned again, this time horrified, like someone was forcing poison down his throat.
     
    She made her way in the dark to the door and nudged it open, then stepped inside Papa’s room and shut the door behind her.
     
    “Papa?”
     
    “Little Plum? That you?”
     
    “Yes.”
     
    She shuffled straight ahead to the foot of the bed. The room smelled like whiskey and sour dishrags.
     
    “Come here, by me.”
     
    In the dark, Clara inched her way along the side of the bed aiming for Papa’s sniffling and coughing sounds. When she reached him, she accidentally stuck her searching hand into his chest and found he was sitting up against the headboard. Crawling onto the bed and sitting alongside him, she leaned her shoulder into his arm. He took her hand in his and held it, resting it on his thigh.
     
    “My Almira ain’t never comin’ back.” He squeezed her hand and began to cry in choppy snorting fits.
     
    Tears streamed down Clara’s face.
     
    “I know, Papa, but don’t cry so hard. Everything will be all right. We’re all sad now, but Mamma is at peace, isn’t she?”
     
    “I don’t think I’ll ever feel like livin’ again without her. I’ve got nothin’.”
     
    But he had her, she thought. She