The Seer

CHAPTER ONE

Rolla, Missouri 1896

I’ve never been able to see God through the mist colors coming off everyone at church. Grandma Rose once told me to close my eyes to the colors and feel God, but it’s hard ignoring the man or woman sitting next to me Amening and Hallelujahing if their mist is repulsive, like moss green or bile yellow, because it tells me something’s wrong in their heart, mind, or body. There’s one thing I know for certain—mist colors don’t lie, even if people do.

Pastor Garrett constantly reminds us we’ll go to Hell if we don’t keep our thoughts and our lives clean, yet some people don’t seem to care. Not even the pastor. His mist turns purplish red, what Grandma once told me was a “hush-hush” color, whenever he and Mrs. Stanton look at each other. If they haven’t crossed the forbidden line, they will soon. But I can’t see visions in my mind as clearly as my sister Katherine and Grandma do, at least not yet, so I can’t be sure.

“Do you think the pastor needs to reread his own sermon about the weakness of the flesh?” I asked Katherine when the service had finally ended and we were standing under the shade of the cottonwoods.

Katherine nodded. “The pastor and Mrs. Stanton kiss each other in private.”

“What did you say?”

I jerked my head toward the voice. Beth Evers, a classmate, was standing closer than we’d realized. Grandma’s always telling me to trust my instincts and at that moment, I sure wish I had. I looked at Beth, thinking about the contagion of stories that would spread through town.

I shrugged and shook my head. “We didn’t say anything.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and raised her chin and her voice. “Katherine most certainly did say something.”

Several teenagers gathered around us, probably hoping for a fight.

“I heard her. She said the pastor and Mrs. Stanton kiss each other in private.”

A collective whoop from the boys startled me. I looked toward Grandma and Daddy and realized all the adults were looking at us.

A few of the boys ran to the pastor, shouting over one another. Mrs. Stanton went limp. Mr. Stanton caught her and carried her back into the church while a couple of the ladies followed with their fans flicking over her face. If it hadn’t been my fault, it would have been the most exciting church day ever.

Daddy stalked up to us, grabbed my sister by the arm, and pulled her over to the pastor. My stomach knotted, knowing it should have been me. Children stood wide-eyed and teenagers snickered and elbowed one another, while the adults shook their heads and clicked their tongues at Katherine.

Hypocrites! I wanted to scream.

I looked at Grandma Rose when Daddy demanded Katherine apologize. Grandma’s mist darkened and she crinkled her forehead. I could tell she wanted to butt in.

Pastor Garrett placed his palm over his heart and closed his eyes. “I don’t want to know why you feel the need to soil my and Mrs. Stanton’s impeccable reputations,” he said to my sister. “I want to remind you that you are setting up your soul to burn in Hell for all eternity if you keep on lying like that. Now kneel down so I can pray for you.”

The hair on my arm prickled as Grandma pushed her way to the front of the crowd. I sensed our world was about to shift.

“Hold on, Pastor,” she said.

“Keep out of this, Mother,” Daddy snapped. Pink splotches were spreading from his neck to his face.

Grandma ignored him. “I will not stand by and have my granddaughter humiliated for telling the truth. If someone’s going to burn in Hell for lying, it’s you, Pastor.”

Daddy’s shoulders slumped as the crowd erupted.

He didn’t even try to slow the mares as we rode home. His set jaw and the way he sat rigid instead of swaying when the wheels of our buckboard slammed down on a wet rut were enough for me and Katherine to keep quiet. Grandma Rose sat next to him just as angry, though for a different reason. Pastor Garrett had accused her of having an evil mind and forbade her to ever step foot into his house of worship again.

I stared down at the coffee-colored spatter of mud on my dress, stewing with the thought that until this day we’d been able to keep our abilities a secret. Our hides would have been saved if I had kept my mouth shut about the pastor’s weakness. Sometimes the right choice becomes obvious only after suffering the consequences of picking the wrong one.

I grabbed Katherine’s hand and held it until Daddy brought the wagon to a jolting halt in front of the barn.

“Y’all get inside and wait for me.” He jumped down and began unhitching the horses.

Katherine helped Grandma Rose out of the wagon before trudging into the house.

“My goodness, Sarah, look at your dress,” Grandma said when she saw the mud.

“I know. Yours too. We’ve got some wash to do.”

She looked at the spattering on her skirt. “Oh, Lordy. We best go on in.”

I stood by the open window and watched as Daddy came out of the barn holding a switch.

“There’s no need for that, Charles,” Grandma said when he came inside.

“You bet there is.” He looked at me. “Were you a part of this?”

“It’s not Sarah’s fault, Daddy,” Katherine said.

I glanced at my sister, then down at my mud-crusted Sunday shoes. It certainly was my fault. Katherine had always been braver, maybe because she’s a year older, always protecting me whether I deserved it or not.

“Then you get on back there.” Katherine and Daddy headed to his sleeping room.

Grandma Rose stood behind me with her hands on my shoulders. We listened to the switch snap again and again, each one followed by my sister’s whimpers. My heart gripped at every one of them.

“Damn you, Charles,” Grandma whispered.

Katherine sobbed as she walked out of Daddy’s room and into ours and closed the door.

Grandma gave me a push. “Go on.”

Katherine was lying on her side, sobbing into her pillow. I bent over and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “I’m sorry. I’ll wash the dishes tonight.” It was the only thing I could think of to make it up to her. I gave her a kiss on the cheek before stepping back into the hall where I stilled and listened to the quarrelling going on in the parlor.

“Katherine is a young woman. Sixteen is too old for that switch,” Grandma said.

“She needs to start acting like a woman. She embarrassed me in front of Emma and everyone else. And if you don’t want those girls to be beat then stop encouraging them with that mind-reading nonsense the way you do.”

“It’s not nonsense. God Himself has given us a gift—”

“You know better than anyone that that gift has cost us more than we’ve got to spend, so I don’t want to hear any more about it.”

I think it’s a shame Daddy doesn’t have the gift like the three of us do. If he did, maybe he wouldn’t hate that part of us as much as he does.

Several days after my nosiness caused my sister to get whipped, Daddy stood from his rocking chair and walked onto the porch. We’d heard a horse whinny through the open window. I craned my neck to see who it was and went right back to playing checkers with Katherine.

“It’s Tom Clifton,” I said, though no one asked. He was our widower neighbor and probably Daddy’s closest friend.

“What’s the news?” Daddy always asked that when anyone stopped by unexpected.

“I was wondering if you’d heard about Pastor Garrett,” Tom said.

Katherine and I looked at one another while Grandma stopped rocking and held her knitting needles still.

“He’s got a broken nose and a shiner delivered to him by Roy Stanton. Roy’s in jail,” Tom said.

I stepped closer to the window, making sure to stay out of their sight. Daddy’s jaw was clenched and he looked off at the horizon.

“He walked in on the pastor and Mrs. Stanton acting like they were in a fever over one another, their lips and hands moving all over each—”

“I got young women in there,” Daddy grumbled. “Now, I ain’t one for gossip so I’d appreciate it if you’d go on home.”

“Thought you’d like to know Katherine and your mother told the truth after all.”

Katherine kept me up that night with her fretting. “Trouble’s coming. I can feel it.”

I didn’t want to admit I did too. “Don’t worry. No one will remember what you said.”

I wish that was true, but we both knew I was lying. Gossip around Rolla was like a nasty stomach bug that spreads and infects quickly; especially dirty talk, like what Tom Clifton told Daddy. I knew darn well no one had forgotten Katherine had revealed the pastor’s secret first.

CHAPTER TWO

I woke up with a gnawing in my stomach. By the way she didn’t talk much at breakfast, I could tell Katherine had it too. As we walked to school, the feeling grew.

We slowed our steps when we saw a group of our classmates ahead, watching us. Their mists were a mix of dull and bright shades, and the way the colors extended beyond their bodies more than was usual revealed their excitement. I looked at Katherine and noticed her eyes skimming the faces of the crowd.

“They’re waiting for us, aren’t they?” I asked.

“Yep,” she said.

As we approached, the hair on my arms prickled. As soon as I saw Beth Evers, I knew this was her doing.

“Tell us how you and your grandmother knew about Pastor Garrett and Mrs. Stanton,” an older boy said. “Are y’all witches? The pastor said y’all have evil minds.”

“I was spreading rumors. That’s all. I didn’t know it was for real,” Katherine said.

“Liar!” Beth yelled. “My daddy said you’re spawned from the devil. And so is your grandmother.”

It was one thing to hurl hatefulness at me and Katherine, but Grandma Rose was another matter. She was an angel on Earth even if she had been kicked out of church for good. I punched Beth square in the mouth. Blood and spit spewed and a rock hit Katherine on the forehead. She pulled me out of the crowd when more rocks started flying.

“Run, witches! Run away and don’t come back!” someone screamed.

“Grandma!” I yelled when we made it back to the property. I was out of breath and sobbing. How I missed Momma, especially at a time like this. Katherine had a cut on her temple that bled down the side of her face and pain shot through my back and head.

“They threw rocks,” I cried as Grandma Rose rushed out of the house.

She held Katherine by the shoulders. “Oh, those awful people.”

By suppertime, the crescent-shaped cut on Katherine’s temple had stopped bleeding and the swelling had turned purple. Daddy kept glancing at it as he ate his smothered roast beef and mashed potatoes. His mist was grayish blue, the color of sadness—not of grief, but a different kind of heartache. Katherine and I didn’t dare speak. We knew he was mulling over how Mr. Evers had stormed over here gripping Beth by the arm so Daddy could see what “his monster” had done. Her lips were three times their normal size and the bottom one was split.

After I apologized against my will, I didn’t get the whipping I thought I would. Instead, Daddy was stone quiet after they left, which was almost worse. Grandma behaved as if she didn’t seem to care one way or another about Daddy’s mood.

“I’d love to be in that church on Sunday. Eww wee! That would be something to see. You girls fill me in when you get home about how much sobbing and sniveling Pastor Garrett does through his broken nose when he begs everyone for forgiveness. I wonder if Betsy Stanton will be sitting front and center like she—”

“That’s enough,” Daddy said.

“That man better apologize to Katherine in front of everyone—”

Daddy banged his fist on the table making water slosh out of our glasses.

Grandma shoved a heaping forkful of potatoes in her mouth, then winked at me.

When the pots were scrubbed and the dishes put away, I sought out Daddy in the barn where he always went to think. He was brushing Matilda’s mane. She was our biscuit-colored mare he treated special. He looked up when my shadow crossed the lantern light spilling on the ground. I walked over to Jessie. Daddy rode her mostly, though I sensed she was envious of the way he treated Matilda with extra care. I reached up and scratched between her eyes.

“You mad at me, Daddy?”

He looked at me and the crinkle between his eyes deepened. “Why didn’t you tell me what you did to Beth? It should have been us knocking on their door to apologize.”

That’s why. No one in that terrible crowd deserved an apology. “She said some awful things about us.”

His look was pained. “You can’t let people’s words or small-mindedness bring out the darkness in you. You’ve got to be stronger than that.”

I had a feeling he wasn’t just referring to me, but to Grandma Rose. He grew up having to defend himself from taunts and rocks and blows from people who made fun of him once they found out his momma had what she calls “the foresight,” and they called “the devil’s gift.” It got so bad they had to move from Farmington to Steelville, which turned out to be a good thing because that’s where he met and married Momma.

“I know. But Daddy, everyone at school thinks our family’s evil.”

He stopped running the brush through Matilda’s mane and looked down at his boots. “Not just at school.”

My breath caught. “You heard something like it in town?”

His jaw tightened and he nodded.

My chest heaved with sobbing I couldn’t release. If I started crying, he’d put a stop to our talk and I needed to know more. “Do you think we’re evil, Daddy?”

His eyes shifted away from mine. “As far as what y’all have being God-given … I’m not sure about that. Knowing other people’s business seems like there’s no point to it. I don’t get why y’all are burdened with it since it’s brought nothing but trouble. And I can’t protect you from what other people believe or what they’ll do to you because of it.” When he turned to me, his eyes seemed to plead. “All I ever wanted is for us to live a peaceful life. I can’t make that happen myself. You girls have got to help me. Ignore that gift of yours. Don’t ever talk about it. Don’t ever let on that you know about things you shouldn’t.”

I thought about all the times Grandma told us our gift will someday come with the responsibility to help “deliver the weak from the hands of the wicked,” or to stand against injustice if we’re called to. And all the times I promised her I would.

But at that moment, the hurt in Daddy’s eyes pressed heavier on me.

“All right, Daddy. I promise.”

CHAPTER THREE

Daddy wanted us to prove we didn’t have anything to hide or be ashamed of, but after we begged during breakfast, Grandma finally convinced him to let us stay home from school. He gave in when we promised to do an extra book lesson. By midafternoon all our chores and schoolwork were done, so we sat on the front porch—Katherine with her Emily Dickinson poetry book and me with my needlework sampler.

Grandma sat on the porch swing knitting a baby blanket to put in one of our dowry chests. Daddy had made each of us one for our thirteenth birthdays—mine with a swirly S painted in yellow, and Katherine’s with a K in green. Grandma wouldn’t tell us who the blanket was for. She was always collecting or making things she thought we’d need later. This was her way of “honoring the future in the present,” she’d once said. Momma told her she might jinx our futures by assuming and preparing for it, but Grandma explained it was a way of calling to us what we want. I liked that way of thinking.