"I know you wouldn't want him here snoring all night," Noah murmured, sitting by his mother's bedside. "I'm trying to take care of them... like you would have." He sighed, the weight of her silence pressing down on him. He squeezed her hand, hoping she could sense his words even if she couldn't respond. After a minute he took her hand, anticipating the energy that had accompanied the memories, sometimes subtle and other times like a jolt. It didn't come and he found himself feeling a little disappointed. "I know you've been trying to tell me something, I'm sorry it's taking me so long to figure it out. I'll get it though. I won't give up if you don't."
Noah squeezed her hand, then pulled out his phone. "Charlotte sent me another message. Let me read it to you." Guilt pricked at him for not responding, but he hadn't known what to say, and it felt wrong to call while his Dad was still there. She was probably asleep now, he thought. Remember I told you about Uncle Cub earlier? Well, Charlotte figured out what he meant about Jonah. Here's what she said: 'Jonah drowned in '78. Anne—our cousin who died before we were born—somehow saved him. She showed up out of nowhere. Nobody knows how she heard Jer yelling or how she got down from the cliff so quickly, but she shows up and rescues him. Mimi thought that caused Aunt Barb's cancer and the fire that killed Anne et. al. which is why she said whatever they were doing was evil. Idk maybe the memory thing had something to do with it? Something isn't sitting right with me though about it all. Talk soon or see ya tomorrow."
The room felt ominous, as if his mother's energy was causing a fog to make everything feel heavy with sadness and bitter regret. He expected the jolt when he placed a hand on his mother's arm and wasn't surprised to find himself in her memories once more. While it had made him uneasy at first, he was starting to feel at home and found that when he was accepting of it, the whole experience was less jarring.
Like before, the hospital room melted away and he found himself peeking through the railings on a staircase down to where several adults were arguing below. It was her grandmother's house, Noah knew somehow and the women arguing were his grandmother and her sisters, seemingly presided over by his great grandmother.
"He's fine Aunt Barb," Anne was insisting, "we actually did it this time. He won't die again." Noah was filled with a child's fear and wonder. "She's right," Aunt Nancy said softly as Mimi, had clearly had enough and was already working up to a shout.
"It doesn't matter!" Her voice rang through the kitchen, drowning out those of her sisters and her niece. "Ma told you it wasn't allowed. That it was a bad idea." Noah noticed the look of disapproval on the older woman's face, but he wasn't sure if it was because she agreed with his grandmother or not.
"What might you have done? What about Anne? What about the children?" She was quieting in volume, as if remembering that there were children in the house, but her passion was resolute. Barbara let out a loud sob, "Jonah is my child Miranda."
Though her face faltered, Mimi doubled down on her sternness. "And God was calling him home. Who knows what you've done. If this thing is a gift, we should return it to sender, because it's not from Him. If we use this again it needs to be to get rid of it. Maybe if we destroy that locket." She turned an accusing face at the youngest woman who was fingering the silver pendant at her clavicle.
"Now that's enough," said a weary voice which hadn't spoken yet. His great grandmother was getting to her feet. "Miranda, the locket is not the cause of the gift, and if you don't want it you can simply decide that you don't want it and not use it again. I don't think Linda has had any trouble with that method, though she doesn't have a daughter." The last part of the sentence added as an afterthought, but he felt the excitement his mother had at hearing it. "Anne, it was dangerous what you did but it does seem to have worked. For now–Barbie, stop crying and enjoy what you have while you have it."
She'd started off sounding tired but she spoke with authority, even sharpness as she scolded her second-born. All of the women seemed to lose the fire they'd had when the memory started. "What's done is done," she told them, "and you will have a tax. I don't know what and I don't know when but it will be proportional to the change you made. I would caution you to accept it gracefully when it comes or it's likely to end even worse."
"I'm glad Jonah is okay," she said in a softer voice as she put a hand on Barbara's back, "but I don't think you should use the gift anymore either. Don't you think I've learned things? It doesn't seem to try to show you, but you do find things out if, especially if you pry. I've wanted to stop things too. It's hard enough to raise a family let alone with something this special to share. Now it's Anne's time, and she can pass the gift down to her daughter. Hopefully her tax for her part won't be too great."
She held up a hand to Mimi, "you do not get to decide for anyone but yourself and maybe Clarissa."
The memory faded and he was no longer clinging to the bars on the staircase but to his mother's arm. Noah was shocked to find tears in his eyes, though he wasn't entirely sure who he was crying for. He wondered if he was crying simply because his mother couldn't. Her lost family, her struggles with her mother over what everyone but Mimi and maybe Aunt Linda had known was a gift. "Mom," he whispered softly, "thank you for sharing that."
Thank you for sharing that. Was something she'd said to him many times over the years. He wasn't sure he'd said it back enough, but it felt appropriate now. He didn't let go of her hand to text Charlotte, feeling that he could work through it with her tomorrow. Now was time to be with his mother, to comfort her. He rubbed her arm for a while, whispering what he hoped were soothing words. Are you paying a tax? He wondered to himself but didn't dare speak or even think it too loudly. "Don't worry mama," he whispered instead, suddenly feeling exhaustion even at keeping his eyes open, "I am not going anywhere." Noah closed his eyes, exhaustion weighing him down. But in the back of his mind, something felt off—like time was slipping away.