Chapter 3: Adeline

Adeline had long, soft, red hair that curled into ringlets at the very end. The ringlets bounced off the low of her back and swooshed around her shoulders whenever she made the slightest movement.

She did all the things children do, and said all the things that children said. She wore little dresses and jumpers her mother had found on sale, to keep her looking always fresh and new on a fairly pinched budget. The mortgage took up most of the extra income.

There was a unique innocence about Adeline that was made even more so by the stark contrast of a certain knowing she possessed. Not everyone picked up on it, but most people sensed it in some way. It was something about how she took the world in. She would flit about and sing and prance like any other little girl, but she had a penetrating way of looking at things that made you feel like you were sitting with a little adult. She would stop and notice details that other children didn’t, as though she had a perspective only an older soul could have. And with good reason. Much of her perspective came from such older souls.

In Kindergarten, just the year before, she walked up to Mrs. Manning, put her hand on her teacher’s cheek, and said in a precious little voice, “I hope you are not too sad today. I know you are missing your mother. Mine is still around, but sometimes I get sad at the end of the day when I haven’t seen her for awhile. So I know what it feels like a little bit.”

Mrs. Manning couldn’t decide whether she should jump back in shock, or lunge forward in a sob and crumble into the child’s arms.

Mrs. Manning held her breath for a few moments, patted Adeline on her sweet head, and said,

“Thank you sweetheart. But...h--how did you know?”

“Oh, she’s here today. She said not to worry about the gingerbread cookies you burned when you were 12. She knew you tried your best and she’s sorry for yelling. It wasn’t your fault.”

Adeline flitted off to play with blocks.

Her parents were never sure whether they should tell about their daughter up front, or wait for the phone calls to come in after the fact. Their circle of friends was very small, understandably. But they still came across people who didn’t know.

Those who did know said she spoke to the angels. Adeline called them the "deads" or her "gone friends," but “dead” and "gone" sounded too morbid, so her family and (few) friends would often refer to them as “angels”-- and frankly, most of them were nice, so the terminology fit).

It was not surprising to find Adeline often in a corner of a room conversing quietly with someone who “wasn’t there.” Her parents had grown accustomed to it. How could they not? Especially when it came with perks! They were frequently getting visits from family and friends who had long passed on. It made for entertaining mealtimes. They did not have a television in their house. Nor did they need one.

As it came time to purchase a new home, Adline liked this one best. Wouldn’t say why. But she seemed dead set, and her parents liked it too. The price and location were great, Adeline seemed happy, so here they were.

Adeline’s favorite place to spend her time was in the formal dining room. They often found her in there conversing under the table or in the corner by the curio cabinet an elderly couple had left behind.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

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