"A good upbringing is what stops them," I said to her. "And a good heart. Most of us don't need the threat of punishment hanging over us to do what we know to be the right thing." But as I said it, I wasn't entirely convinced by own argument. Could people change so much after their death? Could they forget or dismiss the code of behavior they'd learned during their life?
She smiled at me but it was weak and unconvincing.
I sat beside her and picked up my own embroidery. I wasn't very fond of the activity, preferring to read, but sometimes the repetitious task helped me to think. "Celia, what do you know of Mama's family? She had a sister, didn't she?"
"Aunt Catherine, yes." She pulled a face. "Horrible woman. Mama and she didn't get on at all well. I met her once when I was about ten. She and Uncle Freddie came for a visit. She used to rap my knuckles whenever she caught me fidgeting and I could never eat, sit, speak or breathe in the right way. Horrible woman," she said again. "As I recall they left after only two days. Papa couldn't stand them and insisted they leave before they drove Mama to distraction with their endless demands. Why?" I lowered my cloth. "She died last month. I spoke to her ghost this morning."
"You what?"
"I wanted to ask about Mama and...my father."
"Oh, Em, how could you!"
"I just needed to know if she knew him, that's all. I had to try, Celia, since you won't tell me anything."
She resumed her embroidery but stabbed her finger on the first stitch. "Ow!" She sucked off the blood. "Now see what you've done. I'm all flustered."
I took her hand and inspected the wound. It had already stopped bleeding. "If it makes you feel any better I didn't learn anything from Aunt Catherine, except to confirm what you just told me about her. Horrible doesn't even begin to describe her."
Celia turned her hand over in mine and clasped my fingers. "I can only imagine what she thought of you," she said quietly. Her eyes shone with sympathy and understanding.
I was grateful that no tears came at the memory of my aunt's cruel words. I didn't want to upset Celia over something she couldn't control. She could not summon Aunt Catherine's ghost and chastise her. "She can't hurt me," I said. Not with Jacob around to counter everything she said with his beautiful words. "She's only a ghost."
Celia smiled. "I should be sorry that she's dead, but I'm not."