“Do you think he can help us, Pa?” Her voice trails off. Her left foot steps on the porch of Elijah Brooks, seer of things.
“Well Ma. We prayed for three nights. The good Lord sent us here… ” his voice loses its baritone sound. “She’s lost. He finds things. We need to do this Ma.”
He stands on the ground. His face worn more than his years. Those eyes are dark by misfortune and loss. The black hair turned mostly white. His Sunday best clothes appear to have seen better days. If you draw a picture of forlorn, you’ll see Samuel Grey.
Bessie Grey stands at the door. She is a rail of a woman. Her dark clothes make her look ghost white. Waves of hair sag beneath a yellowed bonnet. Her bright blue eyes sparkle as only hope can. Her face is drawn. Her heart is slow. The door might as well be a wall. It seems an immovable force as hand shaky hand tries the latch.
“Ma, move aside. It’s an old house. Door sticks. The man’s in the spirit business. Not much use for tools in his work.” Samuel makes quick work of the door ” There we go. After you Ma.”
Samuel steps back to let Bessie by. They enter a parlor. Bookshelves crowd the room. Darkness seems misplaced by hurricane lamps. The smoke cascades out the door as if it waited for the chance to escape.
“Is there anyone… at home? We need to talk with Mr Brooks. Kinda important.” Samuel’s call seems to echo down unseen distant halls.
Bessie looks over the old books, boxes, and skulls that fill the shelves that hide every visible wall.
Her hand finds a coyote skull. She turns it to face her. It’s eyes still seem to gaze at her. She can feel a presence.
A hand suddenly slides over hers and captures the skull.
“These are finely tuned spiritual devices. We musn’t get too many feelings added to them.” Emma sings a soft song with words. “Mr Brooks expected a visit, but more than one. If you’ll find a rest here on the ough, he’ll be here shortly. And whom is calling and the item we need to find please?”
The couple stands silent. It’s as if this woman suddenly appeared out of the blue. Her smile angelic. Her hair bright red, tight curls that sway as she stands still. Green eyes that holds you captive. The accent far from these hills.
“Please sit, sit. I really have to prepare him. He’s in a tempered mood. Hates surprises. So your business is…?” Emma smiles with dimples on fill display.
“We are the Greys. We need to find our daughter. She’s just 17 and left without notice. And we just need to find her….” Bessie reaches out her right arm with her palm turned up. “My baby… I need her back at hoooome.”
Her head crashes into Samuel’ s shoulder.
“Please ma’am. You can help us?” Samuel covers Bessie with his left arm.