Forever (chapter 2)

For several weeks, Sarah lived as a recluse. She let the machine pick up the phone, answering only when her sister's messages began sounding frantic. She assured Maggie that she was fine, she just needed some time alone. She covered the receiver when Alice began to whine, wanting to talk to Aunt Maggie. "What was that? Is someone there with you?" Maggie asked. "No, no, of course not. Nobody here but us chickens." She covered the phone again as Alice began clucking and flapping her arms. Trying not to laugh, she told Maggie she had something on the stove and hung up.

Alice began to get scratchy and irritable. It was summer, and like any normal (any living) little girl, she hated being cooped up in the house. She wanted to see her friends, play tag and hide-n-seek, ride her little pink bicycle. She would sit at the window and watch the neighborhood children play, begging Mommy to let her go join in. Sarah was at a loss, and running out of excuses. She was terrified at what might happen if Alice left the house. She tried to keep her occupied with books and games, but Chutes and Ladders held little appeal when the sun was shining so brightly outside.

Sarah didn't know what to say to her, but knew she couldn't risk letting her out. She felt like the worst Mommy in the world when Alice began to cry, but there were too many dreadful possibilities. She had thought she was losing her mind, until the grocery boy had seen Alice too. What if her little friends could see her? What if they went home and told their parents they had played with Alice, whose funeral they had attended weeks before? There would probably be a few spankings for the supposed fibs, but eventually people would compare notes and start asking questions. Questions Sarah couldn't answer.

Worse, what if they couldn't see her? Alice would be confused and hurt. Sarah would have to try to explain, and she had no idea where to start. How do you tell a six year old that she's dead? Alice's only concept of death was that you were here, then you disappeared and went to heaven. She was too young to remember her father's death, but she had been told countless times that Daddy was up in heaven watching her. Well, Alice hadn't disappeared, she hadn't gone to heaven, and surely ghosts didn't take bubble baths. Sarah couldn't understand it herself, let alone explain it.

Finally, the solution came to her. She and her husband had bought a summer place several years ago. It was technically a cabin, but quite large, with two bedrooms, a small boathouse and a lovely view of the lake. Sarah had taken Alice up there only once after his death. While she knew a few people well enough to nod at on the street, she had no friends up there. Their closest neighbors would be summer people, usually renters. Alice could play outside and swim in the lake to her heart's content, and if someone saw her, what of it? No one there knew of her death.

She found the number for the caretaker, old Zeke, and asked him to have the place dusted and aired out before the weekend. When he asked her how long she planned to stay, she hesitated. "I don't know. Maybe quite a while." Zeke offered to get the number of the local school his grand-daughter attended, if they were going to stay past September. Sarah chuckled a little. "You know, I don't think that'll be necessary." Zeke seemed to be thinking. "Oh, she's one of them home-school kids, huh?" Sarah agreed, thinking that was a great explanation, one she would use herself. Zeke promised to have the place ready, and they hung up.

"Alice, we need a vacation!" Sarah called out. "Pack your bags, and don't forget your bathing suit!" Alice cheered and rummaged through the hall closet, digging out her small rolling suitcase and causing a small shoe avalanche in the process. She took the stairs two at a time, suitcase thumping behind her. Sarah went up to help her pack. They decided to take everything, since they didn't know how long they would be staying. Well, Sarah thought, look on the bright side. At least this year I know her winter clothes will still fit. They'll still fit next year, too. She hurried to the bathroom before Alice could see the tears in her eyes.