The trip back home to the cottage was fairly uneventful. I got on the tram around the usual time. Packed in with the other people, as usual. Nobody seemed anxious about getting into an accident. There wasn’t a word about it either, at least from what I could hear. Stood by the door, I could not stop thinking about my conversation with Charles Buford as the countryside rolled by. With the wind blowing in my hair, I found myself inexplicably euphoric, despite all the troubles of the day. I watched the world from my perch, satisfied in the beauty of the sun-baked hills and skies. I was happy to be alive.
The kids weren’t at the wall today. The forest was moody with the glowing orbs. I arrived to darkened windows and hallways. With a quick look around the back, I could not find the spirit. Perhaps she would stop by later in the evening, just like last night. Leaving the back porch light on, I assumed we would be sharing supper tonight and prepared an extra serving of soup. As I waited for the water to boil, a thought came up that perhaps she was somewhere in the house. Even if it was dark, she would not know how to use the light switches, after all. With a quick look about, I still did not find her. As I searched, I braced myself, fully expecting to be startled when I inevitably found her crouched in a dark corner or something. In the end, it was a pointless endeavor. All I found was Abbey grooming herself at the top of the stairs. When I returned to the kitchen, I had to rush to the stove to take off the lid as water began to boil over the rim of the pot.
After I’d finished my preparations, I checked up on the back door, sliding it open and peeking out. The spirit was still nowhere to be seen. After I went back to the stove to shut off the low flame, I decided, for good measure, to check the front door. Sure enough, when I pulled the lock and opened the door, Alice was there, sitting on the stone steps, hunched forward and facing the night. She had just turned her head around by the time I pulled the door ajar.
“Sorry, I thought you would be in the back.”
Smiling, she got up and walked up to the threshold.
“Do you know how to knock?”
She tilted her head in her usual way of showing confusion.
I stepped to the side, raised an arm, repeating, “Knock,” before doing so myself, tapping the door with my knuckles three times.
The spirit watched this with piqued curiosity.
“If you do this…” I knocked three times more. “… and I am home, this will let me know to let you in.”
Keeping her eyes on the door, she walked a little closer, staring at it as if it were a special artifact she had never seen before.
I stepped inside a little. “Here, you try.”
With a brief glance towards me, the little girl walked up to the wooden door, raised her hand high up to where I was knocking, and tapped it once with her inner knuckles and kept her fist there.
Reaching for her arm, I lowered it down the door. “You can knock anywhere. Doesn’t need to be up high. And knock three times, please.”
She tried again, knocking at the door from chest height this time. I listened closely to her piddly little knocks, evenly spaced out.
“A little louder, too. That will let me know you are here. Do you follow?”
Lowering her arm, she looked up at me and nodded, her eyebrows raised and eyes slightly wide. This was certainly something new to her.
“Right. Come along, then.” I gently tapped her into the house by the shoulder. “Supper’s getting cold.”
Locking the door behind her, I realised she was still dressed in my white nightgown. It was still in fine condition, free of any plant stains, but I took note I would have to find her some other clothes for when she went outside.
At the table, I brought over a bowl of potato soup for each of us. This time, I withheld her spoon, warning her first it was hot and to blow on each spoonful before stuffing her mouth. I waited for her to confirm she understood before I handed her the spoon. Even as we ate, I glanced up a few times to watch if she followed. Though she appeared similarly famished as yesterday, impatient to eat, she paid heed to my instructions.
“Say, when you… revive the flowers… what do you do to them? Do they spring to life? Let loose some… magical particles or whatnot?”
Alice looked up, watching me without a nod or a shake.
I pointed at the table in the corner. “When you revive flowers. Are they stronger?”
She lightly nodded in a way I could tell she still did not quite understand me.
“You know… Are they magical? Do they emit a glow?”
She nodded.
“They do?” I sat up. “After you touched them? Like… a day or two?”
She shook her head.
“Oh. So they glow when you touch them. Then—”
She nodded mid-sentence.
“… then they don’t glow anymore after that.”
She nodded, lowering her chin to her bowl, eating a spoonful while her eyes stayed on me.
“And you can tell which flowers you revived?”
She lowered her spoon and nodded, licking her lips.
“Yes?” The pitch of my voice raised, growing concerned. Then, I steadied myself. “Wait, sorry, you can. But, can other people tell?”
She shrugged her shoulders. I was thrown off by how she knew this gesture. Gazing off to the side, I rested my chin in my palm as I thought for a bit.
“Then… at least, how are you able to tell?” I paused, figuring out my yes-or-no options. “Can you… tell by look?”
Her eyes drew to the ceiling for a while. Then she shrugged and shook her head.
“By smell?”
She shook her head.
“By… sound?” That didn’t quite make sense.
She shook her head, then looked over at the table, reaching out an open hand. I glanced over, then back to her as she drew her arm in, then back out, over and over.
“You want me to get you one?” I sat up, ready to get out of my chair.
She shook her head and continued her motion. I watched her move her hand closer and further from her chest a few times before I finally understood.
“… Proximity?”
She tilted her head, her arm stopping.
“You know… how close it is to you.”
She rapidly nodded, a smile breaking across her face.
“Ah… okay.”
Settling back, I returned her smile, appreciative of her patience and enthusiasm. Alice returned to her soup, and I gave the flowers one more gaze. I did not recall feeling anything different when I picked up the flowers.
So perhaps, this time, I was safe.