{"id":538,"date":"2019-01-17T00:51:54","date_gmt":"2019-01-17T00:51:54","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/noellesickels.com\/wp\/?p=538"},"modified":"2019-02-19T21:27:05","modified_gmt":"2019-02-19T21:27:05","slug":"story-of-the-month-the-medium","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/noellesickels.com\/wp\/?p=538","title":{"rendered":"Story of the Month: The Medium"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

November 1937<\/span><\/p>\n

On the night before Thanksgiving, Helen and her friend Rosie were playing Scrabble on Helen\u2019s dining room table.\u00a0 <\/span>Spicy aromas of pumpkin and apple pies curled in from the kitchen. \u00a0 \u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhen you\u2019re done with your game,\u201d said Helen\u2019s mother, stepping in from the kitchen, \u201cI want you to take a pie across the street to the Steltmans.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIs Mrs. Steltman still sick?\u201d Rosie asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m afraid so.\u00a0 <\/span>I saw her yesterday, and she\u2019s as thin as a stick.\u00a0 <\/span>Her sister\u2019s coming to make their dinner tomorrow, or they wouldn\u2019t have any, likely.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Emilie turned to go back to the kitchen, then paused.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy don\u2019t you ask Mary over to play?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Rosie rolled her eyes at Helen.\u00a0 <\/span>They didn\u2019t much care for the company of Mary Steltman, who had strong tendencies to whining and telling tales.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMary doesn\u2019t like Scrabble,\u201d Helen said quickly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWell, you might think of something else to do,\u201d Emilie replied, but her tone of voice said she wasn\u2019t going to push it.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was dark when they crossed the street to the Steltmans\u2019.\u00a0 <\/span>Helen carried the warm, heavy pie wrapped in a clean dish towel, and Rosie held a jug of whipping cream carefully upright.<\/span><\/p>\n

When Mary opened the door, she didn\u2019t look especially pleased to see them.\u00a0 <\/span>But when her mother called in a husky voice to ask who it was, she had to step back and let them in.\u00a0 <\/span>They followed her into the living room.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was a small room, crammed with overstuffed furniture covered in floral chintz.\u00a0 <\/span>A fire blazed in the fireplace, and to Helen, fresh from the crisp November night, the room felt overheated, the air stale and vaguely sour.\u00a0 <\/span>Mrs. Steltman sat in an easy chair with afghans around her shoulders and across her legs.\u00a0 <\/span>The thinness Emilie had described was evident in her caved-in face and in one bony hand fidgeting with an edge of the lap rug.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo thoughtful,\u201d she said, when Helen explained their errand.\u00a0 <\/span>She was smiling, but she looked sad and terribly tired.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Mary received the bundled plate from Helen, and after letting her mother lift a corner of the towel to admire the pie, she took it to the kitchen at the back of the house.\u00a0 <\/span>Rosie accompanied her, valiantly chattering about whether the pond might freeze this weekend and if Mary had gotten her skate blades sharpened yet and how she would have to use her brother\u2019s old hockey skates again this season but was hoping for figure skates for Christmas.<\/span><\/p>\n

At Mrs. Steltman\u2019s insistence, Helen sat on the end of the couch near her chair.\u00a0 <\/span>There was the usual exchange about how she was liking school and how her family was, and then they fell quiet, both of them directing their gazes to the fire, whose occasional crackles kept the silence from feeling awkward.\u00a0 <\/span>When Mrs. Steltman sighed audibly, Helen turned to look at her.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The woman was still staring into the flames, either unaware of Helen\u2019s attention or ignoring it, and around her glowed the lights.\u00a0 <\/span>They were different from any Helen had encountered before, sky blue with silver sparks, and there was a hole in them near her stomach.\u00a0 <\/span>As Helen was puzzling over this, she sensed the presence of someone else in the room.\u00a0 <\/span>Twisting around, she expected to find Mary and Rosie, but instead an old man was standing at the hall door.\u00a0 <\/span>He was looking at Mrs. Steltman, and his eyes shone with kindness and concern.\u00a0 <\/span>He took two steps forward and stopped.\u00a0 <\/span>Helen checked on the sick woman, but she continued to watch the fire, obviously sunk deep in her own thoughts.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Suddenly, Helen knew who the old man was, as certainly as if he\u2019d spoken.\u00a0 <\/span>He was Mrs. Steltman\u2019s father, and he\u2019d come to help her die.\u00a0 <\/span>His being was so gentle and loving, Helen felt no fear at this knowledge.\u00a0 <\/span>To the contrary, she saw that Mrs. Steltman had been suffering for a long time, and that death would be a release for her.\u00a0 <\/span>Helen knew that Mary and Mary\u2019s father and Mrs. Steltman\u2019s sister would be very sad when she left them, but surely they would come to see that it was better for her than living on in pain and discouragement.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

At the sound of Rosie\u2019s laughter from the hallway, the old man disappeared and Mrs. Steltman looked away from the fire.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSorry, dear, I guess I dozed off for a moment,\u201d she said, though Helen hadn\u2019t seen her eyes close.\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDid you dream?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDream?\u00a0 <\/span>I don\u2019t know.\u00a0 <\/span>I suppose maybe I did.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDid you dream about\u2026about a person?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Mrs. Steltman appeared briefly startled, then she shook her head slowly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat a queer child you are, Helen.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Mary and Rosie burst into the room, both giggling.\u00a0 <\/span>It was hard to get Mary to laugh at the best of times, and since her mother fell ill with cancer six months earlier, she\u2019d been even more somber.\u00a0 <\/span>Helen guessed that after seeing Mrs. Steltman\u2019s condition, the soft-hearted Rosie had made a real effort.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGo on, you silly girls,\u201d Mrs. Steltman scolded jokingly.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cLet a person have some peace.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWant to go out back and watch for shooting stars?\u201d Mary offered.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSure,\u201d Rosie agreed.<\/span><\/p>\n

Helen was the last one out of the room, and when she glanced back, she saw that Mrs. Steltman\u2019s father had returned and was standing closer to her.<\/span><\/p>\n

There was no moon, so the sky was populous with stars.\u00a0 <\/span>The Milky Way was clearly visible through the leafless tree branches.\u00a0 <\/span>Mary had brought out a couple of old, moth-eaten blankets.\u00a0 <\/span>She spread one on the ground, and when they had all lain down, Rosie in the middle, they arranged the other blanket over themselves, with much tugging and good-natured squabbling.\u00a0 <\/span>Once settled, they lay scanning the sky and listening to the wind brush through the tall pines at the end of the yard.\u00a0 <\/span>The top blanket was scratchy under Helen\u2019s chin, but she rather liked the cozy set-up.\u00a0 <\/span>She was almost able to forget the tough times ahead for poor Mary.\u00a0 <\/span>If only there were some way to reassure her in advance.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMy mother says a shooting star is an angel bringing someone an important message,\u201d Rosie said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s daffy,\u201d Mary scoffed.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cEveryone knows shooting stars are <\/span>meteors<\/span>.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not daffy,\u201d Rosie bridled.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIt\u2019s a pretty story, like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, or the tooth fairy.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBaby stuff,\u201d Mary insisted.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cStories aren\u2019t just for babies,\u201d Rosie countered.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cStories are fun.\u00a0 <\/span>Or sometimes they\u2019re exciting.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOr sometimes sad,\u201d Helen put in.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cBut sad in a good way.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSad in a good way?\u201d Mary said scornfully.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWell, sometimes when you feel sad, you can feel glad at the same time.\u00a0 <\/span>About some other part of something.\u00a0 <\/span>Oh, I\u2019m not explaining it very well.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou can bet on that,\u201d Mary said.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Rosie twitched her legs, and Mary complained she\u2019d pulled the blanket off her feet.\u00a0 <\/span>All three had to shift around to make it right.\u00a0 <\/span>Helen sensed Rosie\u2019s forbearance waning.\u00a0 <\/span>After a few immobile minutes, Rosie sat up abruptly, bringing the blanket up with her.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHey!\u201d Mary complained.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBah, I don\u2019t think we\u2019re going to see any <\/span>meteors<\/span><\/em> anyway,\u201d Rosie said.<\/span><\/p>\n

Mary rose to the bait.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYeah, I guess the <\/span>angels<\/span><\/em> don\u2019t have any messages tonight.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Rosie stood up and marched off, heading back to Helen\u2019s.\u00a0 <\/span>While Mary folded up the blanket that had covered them, Helen shook out the bottom one to get off bits of dried grass.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou know, Mary, maybe it\u2019s not from angels, but there <\/span>are<\/span> messages that can come from the other side.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Mary hugged the folded blanket to her chest.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMy mother told me, Helen, never to talk to you about stuff like that.\u00a0 <\/span>You know, about your grandmother\u2019s meetings and those nutty people who believe in\u2026in all that.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Helen\u2019s temper flared momentarily, but she quelled it.\u00a0 <\/span>Mary was only obeying her mother, after all.\u00a0 <\/span>A mother she\u2019d shortly have to mourn.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWell, your mother might think differently after she\u2019s on the other side herself.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d\u00a0 <\/span>There was panic in Mary\u2019s voice.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s going there soon, Mary.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you saying?\u00a0 <\/span>Are you saying my mother\u2019s going to die?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry.\u00a0 <\/span>Your grandfather is there waiting for her.\u00a0 <\/span>And she\u2019ll feel so much better.\u00a0 <\/span>You want her to feel better, don\u2019t you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

To Helen\u2019s shock, Mary started screaming.\u00a0 <\/span>All the agony of her heart was in that scream.\u00a0 <\/span>It filled the night.\u00a0 <\/span>Helen expected neighbors to rush out of their houses any minute.\u00a0 <\/span>And there she\u2019d be, an obvious culprit, standing suspiciously close to the hysterical girl.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Helen stuffed the grassy blanket over Mary\u2019s face to muffle her scream.\u00a0 <\/span>Instead of fighting back, Mary burrowed into the balled up blanket and started, quietly, to cry.\u00a0 <\/span>Helen looked around at the lighted windows of the surrounding houses.\u00a0 <\/span>No one was peering out.\u00a0 <\/span>No doors were slamming open. <\/span><\/p>\n

Mary lifted her head and sniffled, stifling her tears.\u00a0 <\/span>She pulled the blanket roughly out of Helen\u2019s grasp.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve never liked me, Helen Schneider, so I guess you think it\u2019s okay to be so mean,\u201d she said.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cBut what you said is much more than mean.\u00a0 <\/span>It\u2019s plain and truly crazy. \u00a0 <\/span>Lucky for you I don\u2019t want to upset my parents by telling them what you did.\u00a0 <\/span>But when we get to school Monday, I\u2019m going to tell everyone there how crazy you are.\u00a0 <\/span>All the gang and Miss Thompson and everyone.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She spun around and beat a self-righteous retreat to her back door, leaving Helen, stunned and frightened, shivering in the cold.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

September 1940<\/span><\/p>\n

The band concerts at Brinker\u2019s Green were a pleasant way to pass a summer evening, but Helen preferred the latter concerts of the season, played on the first three Saturdays of September.\u00a0 <\/span>The weather was crisper, the crowd smaller, the music somehow brighter and more bracing.\u00a0 <\/span>This year\u2019s final concert was scheduled for tonight. Helen would wear Billy\u2019s varsity letter sweater.\u00a0 <\/span>It was too big for her, but that was part of its charm.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMama,\u201d Helen said, walking into the kitchen, \u201cI need snacks for tonight.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLook around,\u201d Emilie replied, \u201cThere are chicken wings in the fridge, some squares of pfefferkuchen <\/i>in the cookie jar.\u201d\u00a0 <\/span>She was sitting at the table leafing through LIFE magazine.<\/span><\/p>\n

Chicken wings are too greasy, Helen thought, rummaging in the meat drawer for cold cuts.\u00a0 <\/span>But she\u2019d definitely take some gingerbread.\u00a0 <\/span>She knew Billy liked it.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDear, dear, look at this,\u201d Emilie said.<\/span><\/p>\n

Helen came to peer over her mother\u2019s shoulder.\u00a0 <\/span>She was pointing to a photograph of a group of children crowded together in a deep, narrow ditch.\u00a0 <\/span>They were all looking up, not at the photographer, but higher, beyond him. What you noticed first were their intent faces.\u00a0 <\/span>Then the hands.\u00a0 <\/span>One boy\u2019s hands were clenched together, another was using his hands to shade his eyes, another had his fingers in his mouth.\u00a0 <\/span>Two girls had their arms around younger kids, their hands curled tenderly around little shoulders.\u00a0 <\/span>The headline over the picture read \u201cHitler Tries To Destroy London.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s a trench shelter in Kent,\u201d Emilie explained.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThey\u2019re watching Spitfires intercept bombers.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The Germans had been dropping bombs on London for the past sixteen days, with no signs of stopping.\u00a0 <\/span>Thousands had been killed.\u00a0 <\/span>In Movietone News, Helen had seen people digging in rubble piles, sometimes with their bare hands, and rescue workers carrying stretchers, but this magazine photo gripped her more than any of the moving pictures had.\u00a0 <\/span>The children were so average-looking, so clean and well-fed, their upturned faces trusting in spite of their obvious anxiety.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The children\u2019s faces seemed to acquire throbbing color.\u00a0 <\/span>Helen knew suddenly,\u00a0 <\/span>without reading the text, that they\u2019d all survived that day in the trench, but she also knew that the little boy in the foreground would die later, when a bomb hit his church, and that the girl with her hair pulled back from her brow with a barrette would also die, during an air raid that would take out a whole block of houses.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Helen turned away.\u00a0 <\/span>Everything had been so quiet for so long, two whole years.\u00a0 <\/span>She\u2019d been sure she was really done with such things.\u00a0 <\/span>Why should it come back now, in her own kitchen, on a happy Saturday afternoon, just because of a photograph?\u00a0 <\/span>She\u2019d been seeing newsreels and hearing radio broadcasts about the war in Europe for a year with no such effect.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Helen\u2019s American history teacher had colored a world map to show occupied countries and inserted little flags to mark embattled areas.\u00a0 <\/span>In the spring, German armies had overrun Denmark, Norway, the Low Countries, and France.\u00a0 <\/span>With Japan and Italy as allies and Russia signed to a non-aggression pact, Hitler seemed unstoppable.\u00a0 <\/span>Helen knew that people were suffering and dying every day and night overseas, yet neither the classroom map nor the teacher\u2019s daily review of current events had sparked any visions or intuitions.\u00a0 <\/span>Helen hadn\u2019t even had to resist them.\u00a0 <\/span>They just weren\u2019t there.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHoney, are you all right?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Helen turned to find her mother standing beside her.\u00a0 <\/span>Only then did she realize she\u2019d been leaning against the edge of the counter and softly moaning.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s that picture,\u201d she said.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI saw\u2026\u00a0 <\/span>Well, I didn\u2019t actually <\/span>see<\/span> anything, but two of those kids\u2014I know they\u2019re going to die.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Helen.\u201d\u00a0 <\/span>Emilie put her arm around the girl\u2019s shoulders.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t like finding out things like that, Mama.\u00a0 <\/span>I don\u2019t know what to do with them.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Helen could see her mother struggling to think of what to say.\u00a0 <\/span>Abruptly, Emilie opened the breadbox.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAll right then,\u201d she said.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI was saving these rolls for supper, but why don\u2019t you use them for sandwiches?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

She peered into the refrigerator.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI know I\u2019ve got some sweet pickles…\u00a0 <\/span>Here they are.\u00a0 <\/span>And, Helen, I believe there\u2019s a bit of lettuce still in the garden.\u00a0 <\/span>Go pick it.\u00a0 <\/span>It\u2019ll only be wasted if the weather turns.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Helen stood staring at her mother\u2019s industry as if she were watching a circus act.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWell, go on,\u201d Emilie said.<\/span><\/p>\n

Still Helen hesitated.\u00a0 <\/span>Emilie moved close to her and spoke quietly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s just these times,\u201d she said.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAll the terrible news, the wondering where it\u2019s leading.\u00a0 <\/span>Anyone could have premonitions or dreams.\u00a0 <\/span>I\u2019m sure people do who have never had such things before.\u00a0 <\/span>Don\u2019t worry about what to do about it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Helen knew it was not as simple as that, and she knew Emilie knew it, too.\u00a0 <\/span>But she decided she would take the route her mother was laying out.\u00a0 <\/span>She would pretend she hadn\u2019t received any communication about the children in the photograph, at least not anything almost anyone might imagine, as her mother said, in times like these.\u00a0 <\/span>She would make her bologna sandwiches and go to the band concert and hold Billy\u2019s hand while they listened to the music, and she\u2019d stop with him in the shadows on the way home and kiss him and let him touch her breasts if he wanted to, which he had taken to wanting often lately.\u00a0 <\/span>She could forget anything while that was happening.\u00a0 <\/span>She could forget anything just by thinking about that happening.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The novel,\u00a0The Medium<\/em>, was published by Five Star Press in 2009, including a large-print edition by Thorndike Press.\u00a0 It is available as a hardback book and an e-book from various on-line booksellers.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

      November 1937 On the night before Thanksgiving, Helen and her friend Rosie were playing Scrabble on Helen\u2019s […]<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"Layout":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[1,5],"tags":[],"class_list":["entry","author-noellesickelswp","post-538","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","category-allposts","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/noellesickels.com\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/538","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/noellesickels.com\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/noellesickels.com\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/noellesickels.com\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/noellesickels.com\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=538"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/noellesickels.com\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/538\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":562,"href":"https:\/\/noellesickels.com\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/538\/revisions\/562"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/noellesickels.com\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=538"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/noellesickels.com\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=538"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/noellesickels.com\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=538"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}