"Lisa Tuttle - Ghosts and Other Lovers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tuttle Lisa)

Mr. ElphinstoneтАЩs eyes were closed. He sat like a statue. The others, having been here before, knew
what to look for, so they were aware of what was happening before Eustacia noticed anything unusual. It
was only by their rustlings and murmurings, and by LydiaтАЩs clutching hand that she understood it was not
a trick of her eyes in the dim light: there was a whitish vapor issuing forth from the region of Mr.
ElphinstoneтАЩs knees, upon which his hands rested.
But it wasnтАЩt only a vapor. It seemed to have more mass and solidity than that. Now he raised his hands
to chest-level and it was obvious that this amorphous, shifting, cloudy-white stuff adhered in some way to
his hands, grew out of them, perhaps. To the sound of gasps and moans and sighs from the assembly, the
shining cloud between Mr. ElphinstoneтАЩs unmoving hands began to shape itself, to take on form. A
human form, although small. A head, a neck, shoulders, arms . . . That was a face, surely? Eustacia
wasnтАЩt sure if there were facial features to be discerned in the flickering light, or if she was unconsciously
making pictures, as one did when watching clouds.

Suddenly Lydia cried out. тАЬThatтАЩs my baby! Oh, sweet George!тАЭ

Then she tumbled off her chair in a dead faint.
***


The seance was brought to an abrupt halt by the need to help Lydia. In all the turmoil of fetching smelling
salts and water and relighting the lamps, Eustacia did not see what happened to the ghostly baby, but it
was gone. Mr. Elphinstone, pale and worn-looking, remained aloof and said nothing as the women
fussed about poor Lydia.
But poor Lydia was ecstatic. A trifle shaky, but, she assured everyone, the shock had been a joyful one,
and she had not felt so well, so uplifted, in years.

тАЬHe was smiling,тАЭ said Lydia. тАЬI never thought IтАЩd see my baby smile again! Taken from me at three
months, but heтАЩs happy in Heaven. HeтАЩll always be happy now, smiling forever. Such a comfort, to see
him again and know heтАЩs happy.тАЭ

It was for this Lydia had come to see Mr. Elphinstone, of course. Eustacia felt ashamed of herself for not
realizing. She had thought at first this eveningтАЩs outing one of LydiaтАЩs ways of introducing her younger
sister to society and, therefore, to more eligible young men. Then she had thought the seance simply
another of LydiaтАЩs larks, like going to hear the speakers for womenтАЩs suffrage. She hadnтАЩt realized it was
personal. . . . Indeed, she tended to forget that her sister had ever known the brief, bitter blessing of
motherhood. The babe had not lived long; had died three years ago, and in that time there had not come
another to fill his cradle. And yet it had not occurred to her that Lydia might still be mourning. Usually
Eustacia envied her sister the freedom granted her by marriage, but now she felt only pity.
***


For days afterward, back at home on the farm, the excitements of visiting her sister left behind, Eustacia
was plagued by something wrong with her hands. She couldnтАЩt seem to get them warm, not even by
chafing them in front of the fire, which she was seldom allowed to do. For there was work to be
doneтАФthere was always work to be doneтАФand the best way to keep warm, said her sister Mildred,
was to keep busy: it wasnтАЩt worth arguing. And it wasnтАЩt really the temperature of her fingers which
bothered her but something else that seemed at odds with it: although they felt chilly, her hands perspired
profusely and constantly. She wiped them whenever she could, on her apron or a towel, but it did no
good. Her hands were always cold and damp.
Just like Mr. ElphinstoneтАЩs hands.