A Drowned Maiden's Hair_ A Melodrama - Laura Amy Schlitz [80]
The voices grew louder. The three women had come into the back parlor — Maud saw the line around the door brighten. Hyacinth had brought in the kerosene lamp, and the séance was about to begin. Maud caught a whiff of herself and wrinkled her nose. She stank of fear. She wondered what Mrs. Lambert would think when she embraced her long-dead daughter and found her hot and smelly.
“Shall we sing a hymn?” Hyacinth said. That was a signal that all was well. The women were seated around the table as planned.
The light dimmed. Mrs. Lambert began the singing, and her voice shook. For a moment, Maud felt for her: Mrs. Lambert was nervous, too. Maud joined in.
“We shall sing on that beautiful shore,
The melodious songs of the blest,
And our spirit shall sorrow no more,
Not a sigh for the blessing of rest.
In the sweet bye and bye
We shall meet on that beautiful shore —”
Maud’s voice was sweet and true. All at once the knot in her stomach dissolved, and she felt a thrill of excitement. The waiting was over — and she was very good at what she was about to do.
The women sang three hymns before falling silent. Maud listened for her cue. There was a series of raps, and Judith’s whisper: “I feel something!” Those were the words Maud had waited to hear. In a moment, Hyacinth would fall forward in trance.
There was a low thud, and Hyacinth’s voice murmured, “Mama?”
Maud counted to seven. She spoke the second line in unison with Hyacinth. “Dear Mama, can you hear me?”
There was another series of raps, and Mrs. Lambert whispered,“Caroline?”
Judith admonished her. “Don’t touch her! She’s in a trance!”
Good, thought Maud. She repeated her line, solo this time: “Dear Mama, can you hear me?”
A chair creaked. Mrs. Lambert said shakily, “Caroline? Is that — can that be you?”
“Dear Mama, I have come to you,” Maud answered huskily. “Are you glad that I’m here, dear Mama?”
“I can’t — see you.” Mrs. Lambert sounded as though she were on the verge of tears. “I don’t feel — oh, Caroline — don’t leave me! Please stay and speak to me! I beg of you —”
Maud answered with lines from Hyacinth’s script. “Dear Mama, I am right beside you. I am closer than your shadow.”
Mrs. Lambert was weeping. Maud caught the words, “want to believe —” Then, sharply: “You’ve never called me ‘dear Mama’ in your life!”
Maud brought up one hand to cover her mouth. She grasped the fact that Hyacinth had misdirected her. Caroline Lambert had not been an angel child. The dear Mamas struck a false note. “But you are dear to me, Mama,” Maud coaxed. “Can’t I say so?”
The pause that followed was unnerving. Maud tensed, fearing that her voice had been recognized. Then Mrs. Lambert gasped, “Oh, Caroline!” with exasperation and tenderness. “Must you always argue?”
Maud didn’t know what to say next. She kept very still. The silence was broken by Mrs. Lambert’s sobbing. “Please — Caroline — don’t leave me! Hear me out! I have to tell you — I’ve thought of nothing else but that terrible morning. I didn’t mean it, my darling. I didn’t mean what I said.”
Maud grimaced. She wondered if she should recite the line about how she couldn’t hear any longer, how a gulf had come between them. If she did, her problems would be solved. Hyacinth would come out of her trance, the séance would end, and there would be no more risks that evening. But Mrs. Lambert had begged Caroline not to go away, and the sound of her sobs was heartrending.
“I have thought, over and over, about what I said — God knows I have been punished for it! Caroline, my dear, I would cut out my tongue if I could take back those words. Forgive me — I didn’t mean it, not one word —”