Meridian. Part 12

Chapter 14.

I was certain a snail could have beaten us to Winnie's doorstep, but at least we arrived in one piece.

"What exactly are we doing here?" My heart thudded while Auntie knocked on the door.

"It's Winnie's wake."

"Why isn't she in a funeral home?"

The door swung open and a heavy middle-aged woman welcomed us. Her teased hair was as big and round as the rest of her. "Come in. come in. This must be Meridian. I'm Sheila, one of Winnie's daughters. I expect you're here to pay your respects?" She helped remove our coats while she chattered. I had imagined there would be lots of crying and black clothes and organ music. As it turned out, there was lively conversation, the smell of turkey and ham permeating the air. "Mama is right through those doors in the living room, by the Christmas tree, just like she asked to be."

Auntie gripped my elbow and said in a low voice. "Winnie died in her bed, but she didn't want to miss the holiday festivities, so they promised to wash and dress her and have her laying out in there."

If this was my first dead person, it was also my first corpse by a Christmas tree. The tree sparkled with lights, and candy canes hung from every branch. There was a scent in the air I couldn't place, and I wondered if the dead smelled that quickly.

"Mama will be buried tomorrow, back under the oak tree, next to Pop. I'll let you have your time."' Sheila closed the doors behind her and it was Auntie and me and Winnie's sh.e.l.l.

"What exactly are we doing?"' I tried not to stare at Winnie because it didn't feel polite.

"Study her, Meridian. Examine her face."

I uncomfortably trained my gaze upon Winnie's gaunt cheeks. She was yellowing and gray.

There was no makeup on her face and she was dressed in what looked like a new, old-fashioned-style flannel nightgown. "Okay?"

"What do you see?"

"Urn..."

"Have a glance at the photographs on the piano over there." Auntie pointed to the grand piano in the corner. "Bring that one on the end over here."

I picked the photo up and brought it to Auntie. "Is this her?" The woman in the photograph was nothing like the woman lying in front of us.

73ani "Yes. Doesn't look anything like her, does it?"

*"Not really."

"Winnie's not there. She's not in the body anymore. The part that made her sparkle and laugh and cry the animated bits of emotion, her talent on the piano, her sense of humor: those things are all gone. What's left is a sh.e.l.l. When you know the person before they die, rarely do they appear the same afterward."

"Oh. But don't they do makeup and stuff?"

"There's a big business in making corpses look like the people they were no matter how they died. You wouldn't believe the number of funerals I've been to where people murmured about how great the body looked even when it didn't. I always want to shout and shake the living for doing such a thing."

Auntie pressed a palm against Winnie's cheek. "Touch her."

I stepped backward. It felt wrong. "I don't -"

"Many dying people are going to reach out to you. You need to know what death feels like.

Touch her." Auntie placed my hand gently on Winnie's hand, watching my face as she did so. "How does she feel?"

"Dead?"

"Exactly. There's nothing left. This is what we do, Meridian. I helped her cross. She was met by her husband and her parents, plus a ton of barnyard animals and pets because she was always taking in strays. There's nothing left of her because she used up her body while she was alive. This is the ending we all hope for and pray for. Most aren't this lucky."

I'd gotten over the w.i.l.l.i.e.s. Winnie felt like a person, yet also different.

"You'll find yourself holding people while they die. This is a gift to them, but it's also a gift to you. As Fenestras we have daily reminders of what is important in this world."

"I get it."

"Are you sure?"

"I do. I understand better."

"Good. Let's go have a slice of pie before we leave. Sheila does amazing things with homemade crust and frozen fruit." Auntie hugged me and chuckled. "I'm partial to her rhubarb custard."

"I've never had rhubarb."

"Then you'll have to taste hers. You're doing well, little one. I know this can be tough."

74ani *The next morning. I put together a light breakfast for us, thinking Tens would appear at any moment. When he didn't. I began to get worried. Auntie alternately sewed and dozed, her eyelids slipping shut between st.i.tches. Her chin would hit her chest and she'd rally awake.

"Where's Tens?" I asked.

"He had a few things to take care of. He'll be back soon."

I put down the journal and watched her st.i.tch. Her fingers flew through thread and fabric.

"Teach me to quilt?" I asked.

She smiled joyfully. "I'd love to." She patted the sofa and hoisted a basket of sc.r.a.ps into my lap. "Pick two pieces." She dug around in another basket for a needle and thread. "I quilt so I can clear out the memories. Every Fenestra has to find her way of coping -some cook, some paint. I quilt."

"Memories?"

"Each soul leaves odd bits of information with us. Things that are important to them."

"That's why!" I exclaimed, dropping the fabric.

"Why what, dear?"

"Celia loved Oreos and Cheerleader Barbie, and her guinea pig was named Shrek. I thought I was making all that up!"

"No, dear. I bet if you thought about it, you'd notice things from animals, too. The sound of mosquitoes is so electric. The smell of spring. The taste of clean water."

I nodded. I had memories and experiences that didn't seem to make any sense. I tried to thread the needle, but on the fifth miss, Auntie took it from me.

"It gets overwhelming. Too much. I make fabric stories from each life that moves through me."

I glanced around at the stacks of quilts that were everywhere. "All of these?" There had to be hundreds -thousands-of stories represented.

"They do add up, don't they?"

I attempted to tie a knot at the bottom of the thread as instructed, but it was hopeless. Auntie patted my leg. "You'll get it eventually. It entails practice."

"Like everything else?"

"Yes." Her face suddenly paled to the color of chalk and her head snapped toward the door.

75ani Custos growled deep in her throat *I froze. "What?"

Auntie shook her head infinitesimally.

I waited, my heart pounding. I felt the fear in the air. And something else.

Custos skulked over to the front door and waited, her head and tail lowered.

We sat there, frozen like trapped prey, maybe seconds, maybe hours, until Auntie stood.

"It's okay."

"What? What is going on?" I asked, licking my dry lips.

Auntie set her quilting aside and removed a shotgun from hooks on the wall.

"What the h.e.l.l?"' I cried, aghast. A tiny old lady holding a shotgun is incongruous at best.

"Stay here," she commanded.

I followed. "No."

She peered out the window by the front door.

"Where is everybody?" Tens suddenly shouted, banging the back door closed and stomping through the kitchen.

We both skittered and turned around as he came down the hallway.

"What happened?" He rushed to Auntie and tugged the gun from her shaking hands.

"I don't know," I said.

"Did you see anything?"' Auntie asked him.

"No. I came through the back woods. What's going on?"

"Someone was here." Auntie answered him.

"Who?"

"It felt like a Fenestra, but maleficent."

"The Nocti?"

"What?" I gasped. I hadn't heard anything.

"I don't know. I've never been in the same room with one. I don't know how their energy feels."

76a "When?" Tens moved us away from the door. He opened it a crack and told Custos to stay.

ni His shoulders blocked my view, but his reaction had me forcing him away so I could see.

*An arrow, its end on fire, was lodged in the front door. A decapitated and disemboweled tabby cat lay on the door step. Blood congealed and darkened around her corpse. Her stomach produced the remains of what I knew instinctively were kittens.

I gagged as I scanned the carnage. I moved outside and stumbled down the steps. My breakfast lurched as I knelt in the snow by the side of the house.

"s.h.i.t." Tens walked down the steps and surveyed the mess. "s.h.i.t."' He kicked at the steps and the Land Rover's tires.

Auntie leaned against him. "Oh dear. Not again."

I moved toward clean snow and wiped handfuls of it across my face, reveling in the cool and clean feel.

Auntie came over to me and handed me a handkerchief. "Let's go back inside. We'll make tea."

"But -"

"I'll clean it up. Go on." Tens didn't glance at me as he all but shoved us back into the house.

"Why?" I asked Auntie as I helped her in the kitchen. There was no reason in the world that would suffice. All her strength seemed to have flowed out of her.

"A warning. A promise." She seemed haunted.

"From?"

"Did you feel anything? When we were sewing?" Auntie measured out loose tea leaves into a pot, but her movements were jerky and slow.

I slid out a chair for her and took over brewing the tea. "Fear? My heart sped up. My mouth went dry."

"Good. Good."

"Why?"

"You felt them too. The Nocti were here, little one. You must always remember that feeling, because it's the only warning you'll get. I'd heard they leave behind arrows and desecrated corpses. But I'd never experienced it."