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butterfly, settling on the veranda railing across from her. “Woody wants to stay.”
    â€œHe might be hurt.” I moved closer and inspected the wings. They appeared intact. I stuck out my finger to touch its front leg, but the butterfly fluttered into the yard, pausing atop the back of the white bench.
    Aunt Judith strolled over and sat down. She made it appear as though she was engaging the butterfly in conversation.
    I returned to the table and sat back down. “She’s mad, you know. Acting like that.”
    â€œPshaw!” Mom gestured toward Judith. “You should hear what she says about them.” She spooned a portion of fruit into her bowl.
    I burst out laughing. “Ohmygosh, your sister is actually talking to a bug.”
    â€œKeep your voice down.” Mom shook her head in disagreement. “She’s keeping Caleb entertained.”
    Caleb focused on swinging, not Judith. “All right. I’m interested. Tell me what she says about butterflies.”
    Mom leaned closer, not that Judith would have heard from that distance. “She says butterfly sightings occur after a person’s passing or on the anniversary of a loved one’s death. Even a deceased person’s birthday holds significant meaning. Or the spirit wishes to impart a message.”
    â€œFascinating how she believes such nonsense.”
    â€œIt’s not nonsense to her. She’s a spiritualist, Mallory.”
    â€œSpirits. Dead people. It’s all coming back.” Gunpowder and Tony. Recalling what she’d once said about my oldest brother, who had been in the Army and died, I kept those thoughts to myself.
    â€œShe’ll tell you someone’s spirit is trying to contact us.”
    â€œSeriously, Mom.”
    â€œOne of us knows the spirit, babygirl. Of course, it’s not me saying so, it’s Judith.”
    I paused, compelled to contemplate the concept further. Ben died seven years ago in May and his birthday was in late October. My father died the January after Ben’s death. Dad’s birthday was also January. Tony was born in April like me and died in November. There were three of my grandparents, none connected in any way to September that I recalled. I saw no reason for any of those people to make an appearance, because they had never tried contacting me before, especially Ben.
    â€œDaddy called her spiritualism a bunch of hooey,” I said.
    â€œHooey or not, maybe your father has dropped in to say hello to you on his way up to the Iron Range and now we’ve got ourselves a lingering butterfly.” Mom smiled reminiscently. “Judith held another séance last week.”
    â€œA summoning dead people séance?”
    â€œOf course dead people, Mallory.”
    I strangled a laugh. “Imagine who or what sort of wickedness she conjures up.”
    Mother squinted at me and frowned.
    My jaw dropped. “Please say you don’t buy into séances and ghosts now.”
    Mom glanced downward. “I do find parts of what she says happens interesting. A daily phone call from your father would be nice. See, honey, Judith and I know so many who are gone.”
    â€œSad. True.” I pushed my plate away. “Who has she séanced?”
    Mom grimaced. “George Harrison, for all I know. Ask her. She loves talking about it. She might contact Ben for you.”
    â€œI miss him, but not enough to conjure him back from the dead. Do not,
please
do not call Aunt Judith over here to sell me on the wonders of spiritualism.”
    â€œFine. I was going to suggest you talk with Ben. Put your mind at ease. You never said goodbye.”
    â€œWe didn’t know we had to.” I took a slow sip of lemonade. “I think I dreamt about him last night.”
    â€œThis is what I mean. You need closure, Mallory. Let her help.”
    â€œNot from someone who hates me.”
    â€œHate is such a negative word and simply not true. She