"Do not deceive yourself. He is dying." She frowned at the skeptical look on his face. "Enough. I know the folk hereabout think I'm not wrapped too tight. But you gotta face the fact. He's not gaining weight. He's turning yellow with jaundice. His lips and fingertips are bluish much of the time. You know just as well as I do that something's wrong, and neither you nor my daddy can figure out what. And it won't harm you to try my solution. I won't do anything you don't want me to do, if that worries you. And it might be a way to say good-bye to your wife, even if I'm wrong."
Lips, tight, McCoy nodded agreement. "Fine." The word was clipped, hiding the hurt in his soul.
Helen looked at him seriously. "I will meet you here tomorrow at dusk. My friend Raven will be here to care for the little boys. He will enjoy that, I think."
The next evening was cold and overcast. November had started, though it was scarcely past mid-October. The leaves were falling from the trees all at once as the forests went to sleep for winter. Helen kicked leaves out of her way as she stomped up the street, and they settled in little drifts on either side. It would be a cold winter, she thought. The season's wooly worms, black from top to tail, confirmed it.
Raven nodded to her. He was an old man, his long hair gray, but his body still held whipcord strength. He had been renowned throughout the Cumberland region, years ago, for pulling a tractor out of the mud alone, using only a rope. Age had treated him as well as could be expected.
He greeted her ritually, kissing her on the forehead. "Spirit-daughter, you look well."
Stilling the Dead
A Helen Highwater Story
"She is a month dead." Helen picked up the sleeping Arnie. "And she is calling your son to her."
"That baby's perfectly healthy."
"If you truly believe that, you are a fool."
McCoy looked away. "I can't live without her."
"You were doing well enough."
"Besides, she was coming back already, to Robby and the baby."
"The dead have a will that sometimes lives on past their physical lives. Your wife was a good and loving woman, and her love draws her back. She does not understand that her love is killing the family she left behind. She may not truly understand that she is dead."
"And how does one change that? You can't talk to her, you saw how she is."
"We used to rebury the walking dead at a crossroads with a stake through their hearts." McCoy recoiled. "She is dead and would not feel it."
"I can't do that."
"Then you must meet her at her grave and show her that she is dead."
McCoy swallowed hard and looked at Arnie.
