The Memory Keeper

Chapter 15

If she wanted to see her old house, she knew where to go, but that would take time and the driver was waiting. She was not even sure how many minutes she had left. Then she heard chatter and turned to her left. A large group of men and women in pearls and silk ties walked out of one of the houses, fanning themselves, talking to each other loudly and with wide eyes. Behind them, bracelets clinking, a woman in a feathered hat and cloak stepped out, black hair stringy like an old mop head.

A middle person.

Natalie stared from across the street, clutching the letter to her chest. Her hair flapped in the sudden breeze, and one of the women lost her hat in it. She hobbled on her high heeled shoes, trying to reach for it, but it caught in the tree branches above. The middle person turned and spoke to someone who was not there, and a moment later, Natalie watched, astonished, as the hat floated down to land in the woman's hands. Then everyone filed out through the front gates, discussing something in hushed, but enthusiastic voices.

Someone walked up beside her. "Yeah, that is Eloise."

She looked over. "Peter?"

He smiled at her, hands in his pockets, and she followed his gaze back across the street to the middle person. She looked at everyone as they left, and met Natalie's eyes for a moment, face wrinkled and focused, and then she turned away, disappearing back inside.

"She doesn't live there, does she?" Natalie asked.

"No. She is hired by the owners of the house to perform a séance every other week for all of the rich folk in town with nothing better to do."

The mind weaver tapped her lips. The middle person had looked almost hateful, and she wondered why. Was it awful to see ghosts everywhere? Did the vengeful ones latch onto her, perhaps leave her heart heavy?

Peter took her hand and then pulled away. "Sorry. I think I owe you an explanation..."

Eloise was making her way through the gate, adjusting a large bag on her shoulder. Gray and wiry though her hair was, her face did not depict her to be much older than perhaps her mid forties. She had almost child-like blue eyes, but they narrowed when they fell on Natalie.

She was led down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, elbow in Peter's firm grip. "Wait!" Natalie wrung out of his grip. "What if I wanted to speak with her?" She was about to say more, but was cut off by the middle person.

Even from across the narrow cobble stone street, the mind weaver could smell thick perfume and some sort of fried meat. "Darkness chases you, child," she said in a low, velvety voice, then shook her head, all without breaking eye contact.

Natalie felt a chill crawl down her neck.

Eloise continued. "Decisions cannot be undone, oh no, they cannot. But there is something broken in you. Your heart has been robbed of its most precious treasure. You are responsible for it, mind weaver." She said the last two words with such a drawl, Natalie had to look away.

Peter stood quietly as Eloise walked down the side walk and rounded the corner at the end of the street. Then Natalie turned on him. "You do not decide when I am ready."

He looked hurt. "Excuse me for trying to keep you safe."

"Maybe I want to know why or how I am responsible for whatever is broken inside of me, even if it was a scary old middle who says so!"

"They do not care about their clients, Natalie. Not like you or Piper do. They are wicked. I should not have forced you to walk away, but felt the need to protect you."

"You do not decide my life!"

"You don't decide mine!" he shouted back.

She looked at him, and he at her, feeling as if he had slapped her. For the first time, Peter's blue eyes turned to fire, and she shrank under them. She asked quietly, "Why haven't you been back?" He did not answer. Natalie waited for what felt like a few painful minutes, and then shoved the letter to his chest. She turned to walk away, and he did not stop her.