Victoria Thompson: Murder On Waverly Place

“I hope I was able to help,” Madame said with apparent sincerity.

Sarah pushed past Mr. Sharpe and took her mother’s other arm. “Let’s go now,” she said, and her mother followed her meekly out into the hallway, leaving Sharpe and the others behind. They could hear Cunningham complaining again that his father hadn’t even spoken to him.

“Are you all right, Mother?” Sarah asked.

“I’m not sure,” Mrs. Decker said with a degree of wonder. “I’ve never had an experience like that before. It was extraordinary.”

“Yes, it was,” Sarah readily agreed. Extraordinary was one way to describe it.

The Professor had followed them out and hurried to open the door for them. “Thank you for coming, Mrs. Decker. I hope you were satisfied with the sitting.”

“Yes, thank you,” she said vaguely.

“You are welcome to return at any time,” he said. Sarah noted that he did not include her in the invitation.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Decker said as Sarah maneuvered her out the door.

They paused on the front steps. Sarah was almost surprised to see that the world had gone on its ordinary way all the time they’d been conversing with the dead. She would not have been surprised to see that the sky had turned green or something. But the sights and sounds of the city were exactly the same as they’d been an hour ago when they’d entered this strange house.

Sarah looked up and down the street and saw the Decker carriage where the driver had found a spot to pull over. She waved and caught his eye. He quickly slapped the horses into motion and deftly maneuvered the carriage out into the street and up to where they waited.

Although the task took only a few minutes, the wait seemed like hours as Sarah kept checking to make sure her mother was all right. She was still rather pale, and she hadn’t said a single word since they’d left the house. She also hadn’t looked at Sarah even once.

When the carriage reached them, the driver stopped and jumped down to assist them. Only when they were safely inside and the vehicle was moving did Sarah break the silence. “Are you going to be all right, Mother?”

She looked at Sarah in surprise, as if she’d forgotten she was there. “Of course I am,” she replied with some annoyance. “Stop asking me that.” She looked away again, out the window, although Sarah was sure she wasn’t seeing anything. “I didn’t believe it was possible. Not really, I mean. I didn’t believe she could really speak to the dead.”

“Mother-” Sarah tried, but her mother was having none of it.

“I know you don’t believe, but how else can you explain it? She knew about Maggie’s baby.”

“I don’t know,” Sarah admitted, “but I’m sure there’s some explanation.”

“No one knew about the baby,” Mrs. Decker reminded her. “No one. Everyone thinks Maggie died of a fever in France.”

“Yes, but-”

“No one knew, outside of our family,” Mrs. Decker went on relentlessly. “She must have been talking to Maggie. Did you… did you hear the baby cry?” she asked, her voice breaking.

Sarah instinctively took her hand. “Mother, please…”

Mrs. Decker’s fingers closed around hers like a vise. “You heard it, didn’t you? A baby was crying.”

“Yes, I… I heard something that sounded like a baby crying,” Sarah admitted.

“You see? And what about those other messages? The one that Kathy got, and Mr. Sharpe? They knew the spirits who were speaking. They understood the messages.”

Sarah had no explanation, but she still wasn’t convinced. “So it seemed.”

“Seemed? Kathy was certain . I must ask her what it meant, the information about a diamond brooch. I know she understood it, though. That was obvious.”

“She appeared to,” was all Sarah could manage.

Mrs. Decker turned to look out the window again. The carriage moved slowly through the crowded streets. People walked past on the sidewalk, giving them hardly a glance. “Maggie was there,” she said softly after a few moments.

Sarah closed her eyes and bit her tongue. She mustn’t say what she was thinking. Her mother was as stubborn as she, and Sarah would never give up on something just because her mother advised her to. In fact, she’d be more likely to persevere if her mother advised her to stop. She swallowed down her frustration and willed her voice to steadiness. “If you believe Maggie was there, then she heard you say you were sorry,” she pointed out reasonably. “You accomplished your purpose.” This was the only reason she had agreed to go with her mother in the first place.

Mrs. Decker looked at her sharply, as if trying to judge her sincerity. “That’s true.”

Sarah felt the knot of tension in her stomach ease a bit. “I know that must be a great burden lifted from you. I may not approve, but if this… what happened today… If this gives you peace, then I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you, Sarah. That means a lot to me.”

“But I hope this will be the end of it.” Her mother stiffened in silent resistance, but Sarah hurried on, determined to follow Maeve’s advice not to allow Mrs. Decker to be taken advantage of. “Did you notice that Mrs. Burke didn’t seem very happy with the message she got today? Neither did Mr. Sharpe. I have a feeling that you might not always be pleased with what you hear.”

“I wasn’t pleased today,” her mother reminded her.

“Exactly. If all you wanted was an opportunity to tell Maggie you were sorry, you got that today.”

“But she didn’t forgive me,” Mrs. Decker reminded her.

“And what if she never does?” Sarah asked ruthlessly. “What if she curses you or says hurtful things? Would you be able to bear it?”

“I-”

“I know you’ve suffered all these years, Mother, but it could be even worse. I beg you to stop now. You’ve asked for Maggie’s forgiveness. That’s all we can ever do when we’ve wronged someone. I think she would have forgiven you in life, if she’d had the chance. We have to believe she would also forgive you in death.”

“If only I could be sure,” Mrs. Decker said, her voice catching on tears.

“ I’m sure,” Sarah said. “Mother, don’t do this to yourself again. Let Maggie’s spirit rest in peace.”

Her mother drew an unsteady breath. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I am, I promise you.”

“I feel sorry for that poor girl.”

“Who?” Sarah asked in surprise.

“Madame Serafina.”

“Why?”

“That must be so difficult for her. You saw her afterwards. She was exhausted.”

Or pretending to be, Sarah thought. If she was too tired to continue, the clients would have to pay to come back another time to finish the session, just like Maeve had predicted. Poor Mr. Cunningham had gotten nothing at all for his fee today. Or Mrs. Gittings either. “She seems very young to be involved in all this,” Sarah said.

“Mrs. Burke told me she’s been doing it since she was a child. It’s something you’re born with, she said.”

“Really?” Sarah couldn’t imagine a child suddenly realizing she could commune with spirits. “That’s amazing.”

“Yes, it is,” Mrs. Decker agreed vaguely. She was looking out the window again, thinking.

Sarah didn’t want her thinking about the séance anymore, but she knew better than to say so. She was wracking her brain for a neutral topic when the carriage came to a stop, and Sarah realized they were in front of her house. “You’re coming in for a while, aren’t you?” Sarah asked. “I told Catherine you would.”

“Oh, dear, I’m sorry, Sarah, but I just can’t. I’m… Well, I’m as exhausted as Madame Serafina, I’m afraid. Tell her I’ll come tomorrow and bring her something nice.”