The Revenant by Sonia Gensler Page A

clothes in, but what about the space behind the drawers?
    Setting the lamp down, I started at the top and quietly removed each drawer, setting them on the bed. The first two glided out easily, and my shoulders sagged with relief when no nests were discovered within or behind them.
    The third drawer stuck halfway when I tried to pull it free.
    I didn’t want to force it, for who knew what blocked its path? A nest? The decayed corpse of a rodent? Holding the drawer with one hand and lifting the lamp with the other, I peered into the recesses of the chiffonier. No tiny corpse there, but also no sign of what made the drawer stick. I left the drawer hanging and set the lamp down. Then I removed the drawer underneath and set it on the bed with the others. Taking a deep breath, I knelt down and reached under the stuck drawer to feel along the sides for the obstruction.
    At the left edge, my fingers found the sharp corner of something wedged between the drawer and the interior runner. Quite certain it was cardboard or paper rather than decayed flesh, I grasped the corner and gently worked it back and forth. Finally, it loosened. Taking great care not to tear it, I pulled the obstruction free.
    It was a piece of thick paper folded into a small square. I sat back more comfortably and pulled the lamp near before unfolding it with shaking hands. The paper was much creased and yellowed, but it was simple enough to make out the words scrawled in untidy, slanting script.
Ella ,
My river runs to thee:
Blue sea, wilt welcome me?
My river waits reply .
Oh sea, look graciously!
I’ll fetch thee brooks ,
From spotted nooks,—
Say, sea, take me!
    The note was signed with initials in lowercase—“e.s.”
    Eli Sevenstar?
    A phantom hand clutched at my stomach, forcing bile to my throat. My eyes traced the words again. And again.
    It was impossible to deny what I read—Eli had written a passionate, poetic love note to Ella. Perhaps he’d written many, but only this one survived because it somehow became wedged between the drawer and the runner. I shook my head angrily. Why did it surprise me? On that first trip to town, Fannie had said—in front of everyone —that Eli once loved Ella. And he had not denied it. Everyone loved Ella, he’d said. So why was my face hot and my stomach churning?
    I read the note once more and blushed even hotter. I’d read enough of Shakespeare’s bawdy language to understand what it meant when a boy called himself a river and his beloved the sea. Rivers ran to the sea— entered the sea.
    Just how well had Eli loved Ella?
    A drink of water, or maybe a splash of it on my face, was what I needed. I crawled over to the bed and slid the note under the mattress. Then I pushed myself up and walked on wobbling legs to the washstand. But when I lifted my pitcher to pour, a single drop dribbled into the cup. I clutched the empty pitcher to my chest with a stifled sob.
    Too lazy to fetch the lamp, I shuffled to the door and opened it quietly. The last thing I wanted was someone to find me sniffling like a fool in the dark. I inched slowly toward the lavatory and then stopped in my tracks. Something wasn’t right—I could feel it like a tremor in the air. I turned in the opposite direction, toward the other bedrooms.
    A faint crack of light shone through the bottom of one of the doors.
    I wiped my tear-blurred eyes and stepped softly toward that crack of light. I heard low whispers. No giggles, no squeals of laughter. Just a steady stream of whispering. My scalp prickled at the oddness of it.
    I pressed closer, moving slowly so as not to make a sound when I drew near the door. The whispers combined into something like a chant. Was it a prayer? Steadying the pitcher in one hand, I grasped the door handle with the other and pushed the door open.
    Three girls sat on the floor, circled around a large candle that flickered wildly and threw eerie shadows upon their faces. Each held an open Bible, but I knew this was no