The Memory Keeper

Chapter 16

"I was told I would find you here."

Natalie moved through a doorway of colorful beads. In an arm chair by a table full of burning incense sat the middle person Eloise, draped in a dark violet cloak. The single window in the small room was closed, and Natalie suppressed the urge to cough as she swiped her hand around the sweet smelling smoke.

"Sometimes we can overcome the darkest of times, even when it feels like we shall remain trapped in our own withering rosebuds forever," Eloise mumbled, and continued with her nonsense, but Natalie had stopped listening. Her stomach turned. She was not sure what compelled her to come here so late into the night, alone. Perhaps it was Piper's absence or Peter's abandonment; a little spite left after their argument a few days ago. Perhaps it was her own curiosity, at last burning straight through her. Whatever the reason, she was at least glad not to spend another frightfully long evening alone. She had reread most of her books. Updated all of her book keeping. Cleaned more often than needed. And even trailed through the streets of Coldton a little tipsy. She had plenty of time to think about this and come to a decision. So why did she hesitate before stepping over the threshold?

"Sit, Gorman," Eloise said, pointing to the uncomfortable wooden stool opposite her.

"How do you know my last name?" Natalie asked, brushing her skirt down and taking the seat.

The middle woman made a dry noise of amusement.

The mind weaver did not bother asking any more questions, but simply waited.

Eloise never seemed to look Natalie in the eyes, and Natalie in turn refused to look into hers. They were almost like milky blue mirrors. Like Natalie could slip and sink into them.

Taking a deep breath, she asked, "Do you see my parents? Would you be able to contact them for me, if I wished to speak with them?"

Eloise started to light a few candles. "It is your choice, Gorman. If you wish to disturb their slumber."

"But I think they need to tell me something. The dreams I have... They try and communicate but I never understand any of them."

The middle woman told her to close her eyes and think of nothing but her parents. She started humming, speaking in-between, looking so far up that her eyes were mostly white, sending chills down the mind weaver's back.

"Speak to them in your mind," the middle woman instructed, then hummed. "Ask them the questions you need the most." She continued to hum, in no particular melody or octave. She was all over the place, lighting matches and holding the flame to every candle in the room, which sat on every flat surface, from shelves to book stacks, tables and even the carpeted floor. Soon the room was too hot, too cloudy to even see, and Natalie shut her eyes mostly because of this.

When she reopened them, the smoke in the room had contorted, making no particular shape. A chill had formed, as though Natalie blinked instead into Coldton's mist. She felt goose flesh rising on her arms and neck, even beneath her coat sleeves and collar. The smoke had loosened further, and what remained continued to shape itself, memorizing the mind weaver, making it impossible for her to look away, as though an invisible hand had clamped onto her chin.

A hand appeared, and then shoulders, a face. Even though Natalie had many photos of her parents, in frames on the walls of her apartment, she still did not recognize the face looking back at her for quite some time, too startled to even breathe. Tendrils of smoke danced around the room, continuing to weave the rest of the woman's body. Her neck and chest appeared, and then her hips and most of her legs, but that it where the tendrils stopped and just curled in place like the snuffed flames all around the room.