Picture This by Jacqueline Sheehan Read Free Book Online Page A

things—smudging, crying houses, phantom water—is not generally in your repertoire. But it all points to a general sadness that happened at one time in this house, which we know is true about this place.”
    Tess wore a tank top, long cotton pants, and sandals with rubber soles. A little chill rose on her arms, and she rubbed them as if she could scrape off the offending goose bumps. Tess knew what had happened in this house; everyone did. What was surprising about Rocky was that she was not alarmed in the same way that others were.
    As if she had heard Tess’s thoughts, Rocky said, “I’m not freaked out. If anything, I completely get it. It’s sad, but it’s not like the place is haunted with vengeful energy. Even I know that’s not true.” Rocky turned to Tess. “How do we mend a broken house? This kind of thing is your area, not mine.”
    Tess had pulled her hair up in a fat knot on top of her head, and the morning chill now found her neck. “This is all speculation on my part. There are only so many things that I know how to do. I’m a semi-retired physical therapist. I’m not sure that qualifies me to fix a sad house. Have you told anyone else about this?”
    â€œNo. Isaiah would tell me to air it out and shampoo the carpets.”
    Tess wore light pants with enough Spandex in them that she could easily squat without popping the stitches. Now she rested in a squat, one of her favorite thinking positions, with her feet wide and her butt down. Rocky leaned into a door frame, tapping her foot with uncontainable energy.
    Finally Tess stood up, arching and stretching her spine. “When my mother died, I was eight years old, and what I remember most after her death was the lack of color. She knew I had synesthesia. She had it too, even though she didn’t know what to call it back then. My world was stripped of color for months after her death. That’s what has happened to this place. It’s been stripped of color. Even with my synesthesia MIA, I can tell you that this house has been drained of color. What you can do to help this house is to bring life back inside it.”
    Tess rubbed one hand along the floor.
    â€œI think all you have to do is to love it again, like the Costellos did, back when they were young and healthy. They loved it by just living and breathing. A house carries the vibration of the people who live in it. This house wants to start over, just like you started over with Cooper.”
    T ess had completed her methodical examination of the entire house, running her hand over old bathroom sinks that stood on aluminum legs, over a claw-foot bathtub balanced on four bricks, over the pantry shelves that still held specks of flour in their crevices. It had taken both of them to heave open the warped door to the widow’s walk, only to discover rotten boards in the decking. Finally, Tess sat on the front steps of the porch with Rocky.
    â€œHere is what I forgot to tell you,” said Tess. “I dreamed of a doctor bird last night.”
    â€œAre you waiting for me to say something?” asked Rocky.
    Tess got up, and together they walked around to the back of the house. Every bit of the woods surrounding the house threatened to engulf the house with its green reach. Several animal trails opened into the dense shrubbery.
    â€œAbout what?” Tess squinted her eyes against the blast of a summer day.
    â€œAbout dreaming. Do you want me to formulate some hypothesis about your dream? Most people expect me to.”
    â€œI didn’t say one thing about asking for your interpretation of my dream. In fact, you interrupted me. What I was going to say was that I dreamed of a doctor bird, which is a very rare hummingbird found only in Jamaica. They have long, dramatic tails that look like the train on a black wedding dress. And the feathers are iridescent black, shot through with green. The bird in my dream got very large and