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Jillian, another discussion about Mother's spiritual beliefs. In her mother's defence, she said uneasily, “Everyone has to believe in something, I guess. Besides, it would be too sad and bleak if there were no God. Think about it. Wouldn't it be depressing to just think that there was nothing out there besides us? Its Mom's spiritual place, her religion.” Jillian regarded her mother's faith as filling a need for something beyond everyday life. However, the scandalous, lively meetings her mother attended were a topic of lively gossip among her family and friends. For Jillian it was all a hoax, a scam. No one actually believed in the existence of spirits wandering the night and talking to the living— 'crossing over,' as the initiates termed it. After all, the Middle Ages were long past. No one succumbed to silly superstitions any more, at least none of her friends. Her father was a nominal Catholic but had ceased to attend church many years before. While Jillian and her brother had attended public schools, they had treated their time spent in church and Sunday school as little more than an inconvenience— something they were forced to do, rather than an expression of any fervent belief in God. For Jillian, so many things about her religion didn't make sense: for instance, why did she have to say ten Hail Mary's if she lied? What was the point? For her, God was Christmas, Lent and Easter and bound up with growing old and death.
    As if reading her thoughts, Olivia chimed in, “Religion is in every one of us; you don't have to attend church to feel it. Listen, Jilly-Bean, the three of us are heading out to Oakville tonight to take part in this séance. Do you want to come along?”
    Jillian stared at Olivia, wide-eyed. “What? You're all going?”

Chapter Three

    Geordie Crossland called out loudly from the driveway, “Jillian, Olivia! Hurry up! We have to get a move on; otherwise we'll never get to Oakville in time for the witches' mass.” Turning to Adam, he added in jest, “There's a full moon tonight, son. Did you bring the garlic?”
    Adam was regarding his father with a sly grin and shaking his head.
    Moments later, Jillian and Olivia came rushing out of the house, slamming doors and laughing with nervous excitement. They ran to the car and quickly got settled in, buckling their seatbelts. The car backed up slowly out of the driveway, while Molly looked on forlornly from the veranda with her head slumped on both front paws, feigning sleep. They had arranged for a neighbour to look in on her and take her for walks while they were away for the weekend.
    Driving along the highway, the black shimmering water of Lake Ontario to one side and the murmur of voices in the background, Jillian's thoughts turned to her aunt and uncle. She remembered a tall willowy woman with delicate hands so thin they seemed almost transparent, a sweet sad face, grey luminous eyes and blonde greying hair parted in the middle and cut into a blunt style around her face. A woman always impeccably dressed. Uncle Phil was a stout rosy-faced man with a round bald head and a cherubic smile who always reminded Jillian of an overgrown baby. He made up for his short stature by having amassed plenty of money, having made a huge windfall in the stock-market rally of the early 1990's by day trading in the dot-com market. The rest of the time, her aunt and uncle spent gardening a huge expanse of land, growing fruits and vegetables, keeping rabbits, goats and chickens and making their own strawberry and blueberry preserves, which they carefully wrapped with ribbons and dried flowers for family and guests to take back home with them. They disliked the noise and pollution of Toronto, preferring the rural ambiance of Oakville. Uncle Phil and Aunt Jean were a childless couple, but they loved children. The greatest regret of their lives was having been denied a large family, although many believed Aunt Jean now had her hands full taking care of Granddad