September Orange
THE MORNING SUN TIPTOED ACROSS my room. The air was so still that even the sycamore didn’t move. I sat on my bed petting Calamity. She was so tiny and warm. She rolled around on my quilt and batted my fingertips. I was trying to paint her portrait, but I couldn’t get her to stay still long enough.
I tried a different paintbrush, but Calamity just batted at the old one and got mourning-dove-gray paint on her tiny paws.
I had already been to Bella’s that morning to see if she could read the journal. Her mom had answered and said she couldn’t come over because she had to do chores. I decided that since she couldn’t come over, I would paint instead.
“Sadie!” Zuzu shouted, bursting into my room.
“What?” I said in a tone that would make it clear that her barging in without knocking was very annoying.
“Helen. She’s dead!”
“What? You read the rest of the journal without us?!” I pushed my paints aside and jumped off my bed.
“No! Of course not! I heard her!”
“What? Where? What are you talking about?”
“In the attic! I heard her! She was a ghost!”
“Zuzu, I . . . what?” I said.
“Can’t talk, have to get Bella!” Zuzu turned and bolted out the door.
I picked up my paints, dumped out the water and had just cleaned the brushes when Zuzu and Bella appeared in my doorway.
“Come on!” Zuzu whispered so loudly that she almost shouted.
“I thought you were supposed to be doing chores,” I said to Bella. Her cheeks flushed and she looked at the floor.
“No,” she said.
I could tell she was lying. She must have snuck out of her house.
“Come on!” whined Zuzu. She pulled Bella and me by the hands up the attic steps.
“There!” she said, panting and wiping her damp golden curls from her forehead.
“I don’t hear anything,” I said.
“I heard her!” Zuzu said, stamping her Sunday shoes on the bare wood floor.
“Was it the kids playing down the street?” I asked.
“Of course not! I’m not stupid!”
“What was it, then?” I said, crossing my arms skeptically like I was from the cabbage patch.
“It was a voice. She was singing.”
“What was she singing?” I asked, dropping my arms in accidental interest.
“I don’t know, but somehow, I knew the song. Maybe she has haunted us always and we were meant to come to her house and find her.”
“What did the song sound like?” Bella asked.
“I can’t explain it. It was just a song and she was singing it and I knew it! Listen!” ordered Zuzu.
We all froze and stood as still as we possibly could. I heard the kids playing down the street, a faraway airplane and some birds. I heard the dishwasher from downstairs, but I didn’t hear any singing.
“You sure it wasn’t someone outside?” I asked.
“Positive! I looked out every window and no one was out, but I heard it as plain as day! I think we need to find Sally Kimball right now!” said Zuzu. “Let’s go!”
“Wait,” I said. “Let’s read the journal for today and see if we hear any singing while we are here. Bella, do you need to go back home and finish your chores like your mom said this morning?”
“I’m finished,” she said, looking at her feet.
“You won’t get in trouble?” I asked.
“No,” she said so firmly that she sounded like she was from the cabbage patch. I hoped she was right, but I wasn’t sure I believed her.
We lit the candle and Bella read first.
October 15, 1918
I have to admit, it is kind of nice to have no school for now. I don’t like people to be sick, but when I’m home, I can sometimes forget about influenza.
I finished my shawl and it looks beautiful! I finished it just in time, because the weather has turned and it is cold. Lizzy is starting one now. Hers is a rusty orange color. She is using a pattern she got from Mrs. Phelps last year. I think it will be pretty, but I wonder how long it will take her. Lizzy likes to sew, but hates to crochet.
Martha came over after chores. She is crazy about little Freddy. She kept asking to hold him every second. He likes her, too. She said she doesn’t understand why I don’t hold him or play with him. If she had to think about making his little burial gown and seeing him in a tiny little casket, she would understand sure enough. I have to admit, though, he is a sweet little boy.
Anna loves having Rachel, Lizzy and me home from school. She keeps running from Lizzy to Rachel to me and back again, saying, “Boo!” Then we pretend to be startled. She is such a funny little thing. We couldn’t send her out to play because it was raining, so we had to do our work all day with her saying, “Boo!” every few seconds. I’m surprised she hasn’t lost her voice.
I am in my Palace Beautiful right now. I can hear the rain on the roof and feel the chill of autumn. It feels nice.
—Helen
October 18, 1918
I didn’t write much this week because there was nothing to say. Every day was the same—eat, sleep, chores and rain. At first it was nice, but now it’s hard to be cooped up all day with the same people. Martha had a cold and couldn’t come over, so I spent the week playing peekaboo with Anna, and arguing with Lizzy and Rachel. They can be so difficult sometimes. Mother threatened that if she has to scold us one more time, she will let Father do it. He can be much more harsh than Mother, so we tried our best to behave. It is so hard, though.
I haven’t been outside because of the rain, but I imagine there are white quarantine cards in front windows everywhere. I can see the cemetery from the attic window. Every day there are several burials. It seems like the number is growing every day. Since all public gatherings are prohibited, they can’t even have proper funerals. The cemetery is filled with grave diggers and caskets.
I hate this influenza. I am tired of being stuck at home. I want things to go back to normal. Father says he thinks it won’t be much longer. I’ve been sitting at my window watching the rain. Every once in a while, I’ll see someone walk down the street. Most people are stuck inside like I am. When they go out, they have to wear a gauze mask. It’s like a walking reminder that things are unsure and uncertain and scary.
Freddy and Anna seem to be the only ones who are happy lately. The other day Freddy smiled at Mother. She heard him cooing in his cradle, and when she went to get him, he looked at her and smiled. Anna came up behind her and said, “Boo!” It scared Freddy and he cried, but he has since given a smile to just about everyone in our family—everyone except me. I’ve stayed away. I don’t want a smile from him.
—Helen
Bella handed the book to me. Calamity jumped off my lap and curled up in the corner as I read:
October 20, 1918
We just had another day without church, another day of bickering and another day of rain. This can’t go on much longer. Yesterday, Martha couldn’t come over, so I took my shawl and a book and spent hours hiding out in Palace Beautiful. I’ve had enough of all of this. I’m ready to go back to school. I don’t even feel like writing in my journal anymore. It feels like real life has stopped and the world is paralyzed. I don’t know how much longer we can stay frozen in waiting.
—Helen
October 21, 1918
Today the sun came out and it almost felt like summer again. Anna spent the morning and afternoon chasing butterflies in the backyard and Lizzy, Rachel and I didn’t have to spend the whole day playing peekaboo. Thank heavens!
Martha and I took a walk around the neighborhood. We had to wear masks. We saw four new quarantine cards and almost no people. Everyone in the neighborhood was inside. It felt strange.
After our walk I went to Martha’s house. Paul and Charlie were in the front yard hitting the apple tree with a rake handle. All of the good apples had already been picked. They were knocking down the rotten, smelly ones half eaten by birds and bugs. They threatened to throw them at us, but we got inside in time to avoid it. I wasn’t sure if they really would or not, but I didn’t want to find out.
When I got home at dinnertime, I felt so much better. It was nice to have a break from being home all the time.
—Helen
I handed the book to Zuzu. I glanced around the room and tried to imagine Helen hiding out here. Zuzu read: October 25, 1918
Life is more of the same. I don’t have anything to write. The sun stayed out most of the week, but each day seems like the same day over and over. We are just waiting for influenza to run its course and leave. It seems to be getting worse, and we don’t know when we will be able to get back to school. I’m almost getting used to it. I just do my chores and try not to think about things. It gets easier to forget every day. It feels like influenza was always here and I was always stuck at home. It feels like I was never at church being pelted with crab apples by Paul and Charlie. I’m just tired lately and I still don’t feel like writing.
—Helen
November 1, 1918
School is still out, white cards are still in windows, the cemetery is still crowded and I am still home. There is no end in sight. All I want to do is sleep. Father says to keep our chins up and that this too shall pass. I’m starting to think he is just plain wrong. What if it stays like the war? What if it never ends? What if this is now the normal way of life? Halloween was yesterday, but because of influenza, everyone had to stay home—where we have been for weeks now.
—Helen
“No trick-or-treating?” said Zuzu, closing the book. “That stinks!”
“I can’t believe this all really happened and it happened right here,” I said. I reached over and blew out the candle. The little smoke fingers wrapped around the room and we sat silently.
“I would hate to be living back then,” said Zuzu. “No trick-or-treating!”
“There’s worse things than that, Zuzu,” said Bella. “I wish I had lived back then. I wish I was in the White family.” She picked at a loose thread on her just-before-the-dawn-black skirt.
“Even if you had to skip Halloween?” asked Zuzu skeptically.
Bella just looked at the floor and didn’t answer.
“Even if they are going to die?” I asked.
“Being loved and enjoyed like the White kids are is better than living a long time and being extra.”
“What’s extra?” asked Zuzu. Bella didn’t answer and neither did I.
“Listen,” said Zuzu.
“For what?” I asked. Calamity crawled off Zuzu’s lap and curled up in mine. I could feel her purring.
“The singing, jeez!” said Zuzu, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms hard.
We all sat quietly. After a minute, Bella said, “I don’t hear any singing.”
“Me neither,” said Zuzu.
“Me neither,” I said, too.
“We’ve got to find Helen once and for all!” insisted Zuzu, setting the journal back in its place of honor.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, getting up and leaving the attic. I came back up a few minutes later with the phone book. We flipped through all the Kimballs in the area. There were a lot. We finally came across a Ben and Sally, and they lived in our neighborhood. Zuzu wrote down the address and we left.
We passed Bella’s house, which was closed and dark and perfect as usual. Bella stopped and looked for a moment. Then she continued walking.
“I think I am going to open my curtains from now on,” she said, looking back at her bedroom window.
Zuzu climbed resolutely up the front steps of the house we hoped was Sally Kimball’s. She rang the doorbell and we waited.
“Can I help you?” A middle-aged woman with long, graying hair and a September-orange dress opened the door a crack.
“We are looking for a Sally Kimball,” said Zuzu.
“I’m her daughter,” said the woman.
“Is she home?” asked Bella, almost hiding behind Zuzu and me.
“Actually, she passed away last month,” said the woman, opening the door a bit wider.
“Oh,” said Bella, dropping her eyes to the concrete porch.
“We were looking for Sally because we were told she might have known the White family that lived in our house before us,” I said.
“Sure, she knew the Whites. Do you mean Samuel and Mary?”
“Yes!” shouted Zuzu.
“We were wondering what happened to them—if you know,” I said, wishing I felt as bold as Zuzu acted.
“Oh, I don’t know. They moved away long before I was born. My mother used to tell me stories of her childhood, though, where she played with one of the White girls—Elizabeth, I think, was her name.”
“Lizzy!” said Zuzu.
“Yes, Lizzy. That’s it.”
“Well, do you know where we could find out if any of them are still alive?”
“I don’t know. We are going through my mother’s things right now. If you leave your phone number, I can call you if I find anything.” She looked amused and smiled at us.
Bella scribbled our phone numbers on a scrap of paper from her zebra-striped notebook.
“Thank you for your help,” I said.
We walked home, not knowing anything more than we had before, but feeling on the edge of knowing absolutely everything.
