Chapter 5: Ruth
My mother leaned close to Ruth and said four words.
"She is still alive."
Ruth Calloway did not gasp.
She did not step back.
She looked at the coffin for exactly two seconds, then she moved.
She was at the gap in the lid before my mother had finished exhaling, her hand reaching through, two fingers pressing firmly against the inside of my wrist.
She counted.
Her lips moved slightly.
"Strong pulse," she said, almost to herself.
Then, to me: "Can you hear me?"
"Yes."
"Can you move your hands?"
I lifted my right hand slowly off the satin.
"Good." She straightened and turned to my mother.
"Gwen, I need you to stand exactly where you are and keep your face neutral.
Do not look at Christopher.
Do not look at the sister.
Look at me."
My mother nodded.
Ruth reached into her cardigan pocket and took out her phone.
She stepped slightly behind my mother's shoulder — blocked from the main room by the angle of the doorway — and dialed.
I heard the faint sound of the line connecting.
"Yes, this is Ruth Calloway.
I'm at 4417 Birchwood Lane in Milwaukee.
I need an ambulance immediately.
I have a woman who was incorrectly pronounced d3@d.
She is conscious and responsive.
Please hurry."
She listened for a moment.
"No, I am not going to wait for a callback.
Send the ambulance now."
She ended the call and put the phone back in her pocket.
"Eight minutes," she said quietly.
"Maybe less."
"They'll hear the sirens," I said.
"Yes."
"Christopher will try to leave."
"Let him try." Ruth's voice was completely flat.
"The moment that ambulance arrives, this becomes a scene that cannot be undone.
Whatever story he has prepared will not survive a living woman sitting up in her own coffin."
From the main room, Christopher's voice rose slightly.
"Gwen, are you all right in there?"
My mother called back without turning.
"Just a moment, Christopher.
I need a little more time."
A pause.
"Of course," he said.
Smooth.
Patient.
The voice of a man who had already won.
Ruth looked at me through the gap.
"How are your legs?"
"Left one is coming back.
Right one is almost normal."
"When the paramedics arrive, do not try to stand on your own.
Let them open the lid.
Let them lift you.
The less you move before they get here, the better."
"Understood."
"Is there anything in that coffin with you that shouldn't be there?"
I thought about that.
"A rosary I've never seen before."
Ruth's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Don't touch it."
I understood what she meant.
Evidence.
Four minutes passed.
My mother stood still, her back to the room, her hands folded in front of her.
I could see her shoulders rising and falling with each careful breath.
Then Mason appeared in the doorway.
He looked at Ruth.
He looked at his grandmother.
He looked at the coffin.
"Is Aunt Madelyn going to be okay?" he asked.
Ruth crouched down to his level.
"Yes," she said simply.
"But I need you to do something very important.
Can you do that?"
He nodded.
"Go sit in the kitchen.
Don't come out until your grandmother comes to get you.
No matter what you hear.
Can you do that?"
"Even if it's loud?"
"Even if it's loud."
Mason looked at the coffin one more time.
Then he turned and walked to the kitchen without another word.
The sirens started two minutes later.
They were faint at first — distant enough that only I noticed, lying still with nothing to listen to but the room.
Then they grew.
Christopher's voice stopped mid-sentence.
I heard Rowan Fitch say something low and sharp.
I heard Chloe's heels on the floor, moving fast toward the window.
"What is that?" Chloe said.
The sirens were loud now.
May you like
Very loud.
And then they stopped directly outside.
