"Are you sure Mickey isn't coming? I thought I heard him in the hall..."

"I'm sure," Brigit a.s.sured him.

"Then, I guess I'm ready. I need my lipstick, though," he pointed out as his eyes began to scan the clutter on the make-up table once again.

When his gaze fell on the platinum beehive wig to his right, he s.n.a.t.c.hed it from the stand and planted it on his head. As he continued to straighten it, Brigit stood and walked to the dressing table to his left. A tube of lipstick rested there. Silent, she picked it up and read the name: Lucky Red Lucky Red. Silently she pa.s.sed it to Matthew-Matilda Swenson and watched as he took his time in applying it. When he was done, he tucked the tube under one of the rubber false b.r.e.a.s.t.s glued securely to his hairless chest. He smacked his lips a couple of times for good measure before swiveling on the short stool and facing Brigit full on.

"How do I look?"

"Beautiful," Brigit replied with a soft smile.

"Let's get this show on the road, then," Matthew-Matilda decided. Brigit offered her free hand to the drag queen as he slowly rose from the stool. As they touched, Brigit saw the door appear to her left. Her smile remained as she escorted the towering drag queen toward it slowly.

"What's your name, honey?" he asked. His voice had gone from a pert pitch to a seductive low tone. It was a part of the personae, Brigit knew. She would entertain it for the next few minutes of knowing him.

"Brigit,"

"Lovely. I like you, honey. What do you do?" Brigit's smile broadened.

"I'm a Grim Reaper,"

"Oh my," Matthew-Matilda froze, suddenly remembering his joke about his father. Brigit smiled and shrugged in a sign of dismissal to his silent apology.

"Matthew Swenson," she began as she opened the waiting portal to his fate.

"Matilda," he groaned with a dramatic roll of his blue eyes.

"Matthew Matilda Matilda Swenson," Brigit corrected. "May you find Swenson," Brigit corrected. "May you find eternal peace eternal peace."

"You're a sweetheart," the drag queen said before stooping to plant a light kiss on her cheek.

Matthew-Matilda turned dramatically and walked through the door, holding his breath as if he knew the stage and a big spot light was waiting on the other side. Brigit closed the door softly behind him and withdrew his portfolio from her pocket. When she opened it, she found the pages blank only his name and pa.s.sing date remained. a.s.signment complete.

Silently, she slipped the black folder into the opposite coat pocket and left the dressing room. She had to complete the next a.s.signment before the day was over. John expected her back at the office to discuss her interactions and actions. Allowing Matthew-Matilda to tell his story to break him from the loop of time he was stuck in had taken quite a bit of time; but it was an action she had felt necessary to avoid a struggle.

As she stepped from the dressing room into the dark and narrow hall that had led her there to begin with, she felt the other spirit looming at the end of the hall. Her grip on the handle of the umbrella tightened again before she began the walk toward it. As she approached, she could feel it taking the same number of steps away from her.

"Show your self," she instructed when she reached the end of the hall and could see the main room of the theater with the aid of the faint light from the windows close to the ceiling. A slight vibration to her left caught her eye and she turned to face it. It was a young man with a frightened look on his face. He was wringing his hands nervously as he watched her, ready to run if she made a move toward him.

"What did you do with Matilda?" he asked. His voice was shaking.

"I have pa.s.sed him to his fate. Who are you?" Brigit asked softly.

"I'm Mickey. I was supposed to fetch Matilda to the stage. She's been waiting for me," he explained.

"Matilda has gone, Mickey."

"I want to see her show, please," he pleaded.

Brigit eyed the young man for a moment. He had barely left being a boy, yet, he was barely a man as well. She wondered how long he had been waiting to pa.s.s himself.

"That's not possible at this moment," Brigit finally said. "You'll have to catch the next one," she suggested when she saw his shoulders drop in dismay.

"Can you get me in? Please? I'm crazy about her," he pleaded.

"I'll do what I can," Brigit promised.

"When will I know?" Mickey asked excitedly.

"Soon, I promise. Just hang out here and I'll come for you when I have the green light," she a.s.sured him gently.

"Thank you, ma'am. Thank you," Mickey gushed. His fear of her presence had disappeared. The vibration of his energy was becoming stronger. He would do as she instructed. He would wait here for his chance to see Matilda Swenson again.

Brigit nodded and turned away from him. She had to get on with her next a.s.signment. She had made a promise to him, to Mickey. She would come back for him as soon as she could find his portfolio and he would finally have his chance to see Matilda Swenson sing.

11: Bobby Hooper

As Brigit exited 72 St. Mark's Place, she closed her eyes to the bright light of the portal that would take her to the next a.s.signment. When she opened them again, she was standing on a tree lined street with cookie-cutter houses on either side. White picket fences surrounded a few of them, marking the boundaries of one lot from the other. Standing in the middle of the street, Brigit withdrew the second portfolio from her coat pocket.

Bobby Hooper, aged five, had pa.s.sed in the mid-fifties and his parents had left the area shortly after his pa.s.sing. His father had been in the Air Force and, as such, had been rea.s.signed to another base within months of his oldest son's death. Mrs. Hooper, Bobby's mother, had reluctantly followed her husband despite the heartbreak of losing her child. Brigit read his short story carefully, hoping to find a sign that would make this task easy.

The fact that it was a child bothered her. She had never been particularly good with children despite her every effort to charm them. That had been Maggie's department. Maggie had a way with children that made The Pied Piper The Pied Piper look like a charlatan. It was part of her success as an elementary teacher. The children naturally loved her. Brigit had often imagined that Maggie would one day be the Mama Dee of the neighborhood. look like a charlatan. It was part of her success as an elementary teacher. The children naturally loved her. Brigit had often imagined that Maggie would one day be the Mama Dee of the neighborhood.

Brigit turned and eyed the small square house that had been indicated in Bobby Hooper's portfolio. It was a small place with faux shutters outlining the windows that faced the street. The white picket fence that had been put up around the yard was now a faded brown, the white wash having peeled and eroded away with time. The yard was void of any flowers and the hedge planted on either side of the tiny front porch was overgrown from years of neglect. It was obvious to Brigit as she opened the gate and began walking up the cracked-cement walk that there had been many short term residents in the small house and none of them had cared enough to keep up appearances.

As she entered the house, she listened carefully for the sound of a child playing. Silence was all she heard as she stood in the front room. Her ears strained for the slightest sound to indicate the boy's presence. She was about to double check the address indicated in his portfolio when she heard the deep sigh carry across the silence from the back of the house. Slowly, Brigit began to walk toward it's origin in the kitchen.

He was sitting on a chair in the corner of the kitchen. His roly-poly frame was slumped against the back of the chair as if he had been punished and he was waiting for the word that he had served his time. His brown hair had been nicely combed to one side as befitting a little boy of the time. His shorts and striped t-shirt were clean and pressed. Bright white socks set off the navy blue of his canvas sneakers as his pudgy legs dangled over the edge of the chair. Brigit noticed the look of fear that came into his eyes as she emerged from the hall into the near empty kitchen. How long he had been sitting in this room, she didn't know. All she could see was his sudden fear that a stranger was present. She wondered if it was an emotion that he had expressed each time a new family had come into his home.

"Hi Bobby," she said gently. She stopped a few feet in front of him, not wanting to excite his fear any more than she already had. The chubby little boy gave no reply. "How long have you been sitting here?" she asked. Silence followed her question and she began to believe that getting him to talk to her was going to be an act of G.o.d.

"You're mom sent me to bring you to her," she said.

Brigit felt the sudden ridiculousness of the statement as soon as she had finished it. Parents had been preaching about strangers using that line to s.n.a.t.c.h children for decades. Bobby Hooper had obviously been a recipient of that preaching. Only his eyes showed the wariness he was feeling as her words sank in on him.

Wondering how she was going to get any kind of response from the child, Brigit withdrew her field guide. Hopefully, the last page would have a suggestion on how to deal with silent children. Quickly, she flipped to the last page.

My baby loved to sing...

Brigit's eyes snapped from the words that had appeared there to Bobby Hooper's round face. He was sullen, sitting in the chair and staring back at her with untrusting eyes. She could only imagine his chubby little cheeks uplifted in a smile of delight as he sang. As she looked into his dark brown eyes, her mind quickly began the search for any childhood song that had long been hidden in her memory. She pushed herself to remember the songs her mother had taught her when she was a small girl...

"Hey, Bobby," she said gently. She slipped the Field Guide back to her pocket and knelt before the child. "I heard you like to sing. Do you know the song about the Ten Little Indians Ten Little Indians?"

The roly-poly boy's eyes snapped to meet Brigit's in sudden curiosity. His fear was beginning to ebb.

"Do you know the song?" Brigit pressed, glad to finally have some sign of 'life' from the child. "Will you sing it with me? One little, two little, three little Indians One little, two little, three little Indians..." Brigit sang softly. She waited to see if he would join. He merely stared at her as if she had suddenly lost her mind. Brigit realized he wasn't going to join in and quickly searched for another song. "How about The Mulberry Bush The Mulberry Bush? Do you know that one?"

A movement caught her eye and she paused. The boy had wiggled his fingers where they lay on his thigh even though his pudgy hand had barely made any other noticeable movement. Brigit smiled and returned her attention to his face. Slowly, she sang the first verse about going around the mulberry bush as a small light began to dance in his brown eyes. She waited, hoping his small mouth would open and he'd sing with her. His silence persisted, though.

"Bobby, let's do London Bridge London Bridge. You know that one, right?" she praised. "Do you want to sing with me?"

Brigit stood up and offered the child her hands to indicate her willingness to go through the motions of London Bridge London Bridge with the child. She hoped it would do the trick in getting him close to her so the door he needed to pa.s.s through would appear. Once it did, she would open it and urge him through. She was sure there were plenty of sing-along sessions on the other side. If not, she would remind herself to speak to John about it when she returned to the office. Surely, he could put in a request to have them so Bobby Hooper would be entertained through out eternity. with the child. She hoped it would do the trick in getting him close to her so the door he needed to pa.s.s through would appear. Once it did, she would open it and urge him through. She was sure there were plenty of sing-along sessions on the other side. If not, she would remind herself to speak to John about it when she returned to the office. Surely, he could put in a request to have them so Bobby Hooper would be entertained through out eternity.

"C'mon, Bobby, let's do the dance," she urged.

Brigit began singing again and found herself trying very hard to remember words in the right order. Finally, the little boy could no longer contain himself and slid from the chair to join her in the dance. Together, they held hands and swung their arms as Brigit watched his face, pleased to see the delight that had finally erased the sullen expression she had first encountered. She felt her heart becoming light for the first time in weeks as she fell to the floor with the little boy when London Bridge came tumbling down. She felt her spirits rising as she began to belt out the words of a song she had never thought she would sing again. Brigit suddenly understood the difference between growing up and growing old.

By the sixth time through the song, Brigit noticed the child had begun to sing. His voice still betrayed his sense of wariness, but the joy of the song put a small on his face. When the song ended, she found herself lying on the floor beside Bobby Hooper. His eyes were dancing with delight as he turned his head and looked at her. She felt his silent gaze urging her to get back up and sing it again. Instead, she sat up and took his chubby hand in her own.

"Bobby, it's time to go away from here. Are you ready?" She looked deep into his eyes. A slight panic flashed in his brown eyes as he processed what she had just said. Hoping to rea.s.sure him, she continued: "Where you're going, sweetheart, they sing all kinds of songs all the time. Wouldn't that be fun? You'd have so many friends to play with. Do you want to go there?"

"Is my mom there?"

It was his first spoken words to her. Brigit felt the depth of his question on her heart. He had been waiting a long time for his parents to come back. Of course he would want to see his mom again.

"If she isn't, she will be soon," Brigit replied. "Do you see that door there?" she pointed at the plain white door to her left.

"That's the pantry," Bobby pointed out.

"That's the way to where you need to go. They have so much fun on the other side. Are you ready to go make some new friends?" she asked.

Bobby sat up and eyed the door suspiciously for a second while he made up his mind. He looked back to Brigit to see whether she might be pulling his leg. When he realized she wasn't, he nodded enthusiastically. Still holding the child's hand, Brigit stood and walked with him to the pantry door. While the door had been purposely built with the house, Brigit had felt the energy that was vibrating behind it when she had first taken Bobby Hooper's hand. It was his portal, his entry to the eternal sing-along.

When they were near the door, Brigit put her ear to the door. Playing 'monkey-see-monkey-do', Bobby did the same. A broad smile lifted his chubby cheeks as the music drifted through the wood to his ears. The lady had been right. Everybody was singing and having a good time.

"Can you hear it Bobby? Can you hear the music?" She looked down and saw him nod excitedly. Brigit pulled away from the door and slowly opened it. Bobby looked up at her. A light of grat.i.tude was dancing in his brown eyes.

"Bobby Hooper," Brigit said. "May you find eternal peace, little man." little man."

Bobby wasted no more time in the kitchen of the house he had last seen his parents in. The music from the room behind the pantry door was blaring, calling him to join in. He flashed a broad grin at the tall lady in black and darted through the door. Brigit closed it gently behind him. A smile was burning across her face as she left the small house.

Brigit returned directly to the office. John was sorting through a pile of portfolios at his desk when she sat down across from him. He was still hunting for candidates, she guessed. He glanced up at her briefly.

"You're back, finally," he said. He sounded bored or annoyed, Brigit was unsure.

"Sorry," she apologized. "Did you know London Bridge London Bridge could be so repet.i.tive?" she asked, deciding to ignore the tone of his remark. John looked up at her and was surprised by the smile on her face. could be so repet.i.tive?" she asked, deciding to ignore the tone of his remark. John looked up at her and was surprised by the smile on her face.

"No, I was unaware. I was never much of a singer as a child, I'm afraid. How were your a.s.signments?"

"The first one was interesting," Brigit began. She explained the tactic of breaking Matthew-Matilda Swenson from the time loop he was on by letting him tell his story. John listened intently, nodding his head occasionally to express his approval for what she had done.

"Very good," he finally said. "How about the second one? Bobby Hooper?"

"That," Brigit sighed, "was a lot of fun."

12: Moving On

The next few weeks pa.s.sed quickly. Brigit and John were set to their tasks of reaping those who had waited the longest to pa.s.s to the other side. A few were unruly, but Brigit found that she was becoming more comfortable with her instincts and somewhat used to the possibility of a fight. There had been a couple of close calls with the darker spirits, but in the end, Brigit had managed to get them through the appropriate door and on to face their fates.

The season continued its change during those few weeks. The air grew colder; the leaves had long left their posts on the trees. Brigit occasionally took a few minutes to look around her. She noted the changes in the scenery and began to guess as to the day of the month. Her internal clock was going silent. All she had to judge time by now was Maggie's leaving for work in the morning and the setting sun. Seconds had become minutes to Brigit, and minutes had become hours.

Her home time was spent in silent observation. Maggie's grief was still present, but Brigit could see that it was becoming thinner with each pa.s.sing day. As each layer of grief was buried, Maggie would remove some small reminder of their life together. A picture here, a keepsake there... Brigit watched her lover take the items and store them in a small box in the hall closet. As each object was removed from its resting place, Brigit felt a piece of her heart crack with the sadness of it. When she lay down beside Maggie in the darkness, she reminded herself to stand strong in her promise to wait for Maggie. It didn't matter that the physical reminders of their love were slowly vanishing. Brigit was keeping her promise. Maggie would keep the memory.

Mama Dee came and went as frequently as ever. Although she never verbally expressed why, Brigit watched her friend as she fussed over Maggie and engaged her in conversation at the dinner table. When the two women would erupt into laughter, Brigit laughed with them. When they grew silent because they had come too close to a memory of Brigit, Brigit would sigh and gently touch each of them on the shoulder. She could feel their warmth under her hand. They felt only the shiver that ran through them from where she had touched them.

November pa.s.sed into December by the turning of the calendar on the wall in the kitchen. Brigit had stood beside Maggie as she had taken this inane ch.o.r.e under task and they both sighed deeply at the reminder that Christmas was coming soon. It would be the first holiday that a tree was not dragged home and hours spent decorating it. It would be the first holiday that the special presents weren't exchanged at midnight and the rest of them exchanged at dawn. It would be the first Christmas that their rituals would not be observed. Brigit had reached out to take Maggie's hand, hoping to rea.s.sure her in some small measure that she was still present; but Maggie turned and walked away. The opening and closing of the front door let Brigit know that Maggie had gone for the day.

It was two weeks later when Brigit found Maggie turning a new page. She had just come in from the office and was walking through the quiet house in search of Maggie when there was a knock at the door. Brigit stopped as Maggie came dashing from the bedroom trying to affix an earring to her ear lobe and actually pa.s.sed through through her on the way to the door. The shock of that sensation froze Brigit where she stood. The warm waves from Maggie's energy washed through her from head to toe to fingertip. When she turned to look at her partner, she realized Maggie was dressed for a night on the town for a date... her on the way to the door. The shock of that sensation froze Brigit where she stood. The warm waves from Maggie's energy washed through her from head to toe to fingertip. When she turned to look at her partner, she realized Maggie was dressed for a night on the town for a date...

Maggie had opened the door and found Mama Dee standing on the other side. Her graying hair was covered in the knit cap she had made for herself earlier in the fall. A matching scarf was wound around her neck up to her nose.

"Oh, it's you, Mama. Come in," Maggie said as she still struggled with the earring.

"You sure do look nice, child. Where is this girl taking you?" Mama Dee asked as she began to unwind the scarf from her neck. Brigit stood in the door way watching, resisting the spark of anger that was trying to ignite in her.

"To d.u.c.h.evney's on Sixth Avenue. She's said she would be here by now," Maggie said frustratedly.

"I hope she has a good reason for being late," Mama Dee said with a disapproving shake of her head.

"I'm sure she does, Mama," Maggie sighed as she finally managed to clasp the earring. She stood up straight and turned for her friend to see. "Do I really look okay?" Maggie asked.

Brigit bit her lip as she looked at her partner. Maggie was wearing the black velvet c.o.c.ktail dress Brigit had picked out for her the year before on the occasion of her own company Christmas party. Maggie had looked as hot in it then as she did now. The spark of anger was starting to turn somewhat green as she let her eyes wander down the silhouette of Maggie's body.

"You look beautiful. Now, tell me again how you met this girl?" Mama Dee instructed as she sank onto the sofa and pulled the knit cap from her grey head. Little curls sprang free at various points on her crown.

"I met her on the bus three weeks ago. She works downtown for a law firm I forget the name. It's long, that's all I can tell you right now. Anyway, she's made junior partner and she's extremely intelligent. We've managed to talk every morning on our way to work. I like her, Mama..." Maggie measured her words as she said them. Brigit wondered why Maggie would have to think about what she was saying. It seemed as if she might be unsure of what she was really feeling. At least, that was Brigit's interpretation of it.

Mama Dee was about to say something more when a second knock sounded at the door. Maggie jumped to open it. On the other side, a huge bouquet of flowers masked the face of the person holding them. When they were lowered to reveal the woman presenting them, Brigit immediately decided she didn't like her. Quickly, she glanced at Mama Dee to a.s.sess her opinion of the stranger. Mama Dee, ever the lady, gave nothing away.

"Sorry I'm late," the woman said as she stepped into the living room.

She was wearing a black pin-striped power-suit, the teal silk shirt beneath its coat opened to the top line of her cleavage. Her dark brown hair had been swept up into a tight French curl and secured by an ebony clasp. Brigit looked to the floor to see that the woman was wearing black velveteen pumps on her feet. It was a costume she probably donned everyday, Brigit mused as she returned her gaze to the new woman's face. To make it worse, she had a broad, charming smile on her face. Brigit took a couple of steps forward and stood just behind Maggie, as if to rea.s.sert her invisible presence in the room.