Saltwater Ghosts

The moon spills silver over the dunes.  I can see it from my bedroom window.  Ever since I was a little thing, I've heard stories about pirates and German Uboats coming to hide here on this island.  My grandmother, Nonni, says we're all safe because of my nightly vigilance. 

 

Momma opens my bedroom door, letting the yellow light from the hall slice across the floor.  "You best get to bed, Heddy.  You've got chores in the morning."

 

"I know," I say as the lacy edge of the curtain falls from my fingers. "I was just looking at the beach."

 

"Checking for pirates?" She smiles a knowing smile.

 

"Maybe."

 

Momma walks over, slipping her arm around my shoulder.  "See anything?"

 

I shake my head.  I let her guide me to my bed and pull back the quilt so I can slip under it.  She tucks it around me before leaning down to press her lips to my forehead.  "Then we're all safe."

 

She pauses at the door and whispers, "You're a special little girl, Heddy."

 

  **********************************

 

The house is quiet when I open my eyes.  The only sound is my father's rhythmic snoring down the hall.  The dark of night still owns the world but I'm fully awake.  It's as if someone rang a bell in my ear.  I push back the covers and quietly creep down the stairs. 

 

I hear the clink of dishes from the kitchen.  I push open the door and find my grandmother.  She's setting the tea kettle on the stove.  She pulls two bone china teacups from the cabinet, every move practiced and precise.  Without turning around, she speaks.  "Did I wake you, darling?" she asks.

 

"No.  I just woke up by myself."

 

She pats the table with her soft, blue veined hand.  "Come sit here.  You want some tea?"

 

"Will you put honey in it?"

 

Nonni smiles.  "Wouldn't be tea without it."  Her face is soft, no sharpness like some people, like a piece of glass tossed and tumbled by the sea.  It goes in sharp and jagged but washes up on shore soft and beautiful.

 

She moves the kettle just before it starts to whistle.  I watch as she let's the honey pour into each of our cups, a little in hers and a little extra in mine.

 

"You glad to be out of school?"

 

I nod my head vigorously.  I hate school.  The desks are hard and uncomfortable.  My teacher hates me, I don't like her much either.  She calls on me when she knows I don't know the answers.  Hates when I ask questions.  She says I'm tetched but I'm not.  I'm just not regular.  "My teacher hates me."

 

Nonni sips her tea.  "Well, not everybody is going to like you, Pumpkin.  Thats just a fact of life."

 

I blow at the steam that rises from my teacup.  "She's nice to everybody else."

 

"Why do you think she doesn't like you?"

 

I lean down and touch my tongue to the surface of the tea, pulling it back when it burns.  "It's too hot still.  Will you blow on it for me?"

 

Sliding my cup closer to her, she gently blows across it.  "You didn't answer."

 

I sit back against the wooden ladders on the chair.  I place my hands on the table, palms pressed together as if I'm praying.  "She says I waste valuable time asking silly questions."

 

"Are you asking silly questions?"

 

"No.  They aren't silly to me."

 

Nonni lifts the cup to her lips and takes a small sip to test the temperature.  She nods and places it in front of me.  "Should be cool enough now."

 

I take a timid sip, then eagerly let the warm sweet liquid roll down my throat.  We sip our tea in silence, just enjoying each other's company.

 

"You know what, Heddy?  I think you might just be too smart for your own good.  Smart people ask questions.  That's how they keep getting smarter.  Maybe your teacher only learned what she learned. Or she could be too afraid that there might be more than one solution to a problem."

 

I slurp the tea, so close to the thick honey at the bottom of the cup.  "So, I should just stop asking questions?"

 

Nonni rises from the table and carries her cup to the sink.  "You need to be getting back to bed.  Finish up."

 

"Nonni, you didn't answer me."

 

"No.  Don't ever stop asking questions.  Just don't ask her.  You're a smart girl.  Read books.  Talk to people who aren't afraid of possibilities."

 

"How will I know who they are?"

 

She reaches for my cup and puts it in the sink beside hers.  "You'll know."

 

  *********************************

 

The sunlight streams in through the kitchen window.  Dust fairies dance on the light. It's the first thing I see as I open my eyes.

 

"Land's sake, Heddy, did you sleep down here?" Momma asks.  "And why are my good teacups in the sink?"

 

"I woke up last night.  I came down here and sat with Nonni.  She made us tea."

 

She stops, her shoulders stiffen then sag.  "I know you miss her," she says.  "You need to understand she isn't coming back, Heddy.  She's in heaven now."

 

"She was here last night.  She made us tea," I blurt.

 

Momma's eyes go wide.  "It was a dream."

 

"It wasn't.   Look at the cups."

 

Momma reaches into the sink and lifts them up.  "They're clean and dry.  Heddy, the tea kettle is packed away in the hutch.  You had a dream."

 

I look down at my hands in my lap.  Nonni was there last night.  It wasn't a dream.  Nonni didn't leave me.  She wouldn't.