Seance for Everette Tubbs

For almost fifty years, Everette Tubbs faithfully cleaned the sacristy of St. John’s Cathedral in Chicago until his recent stroke where death was soon to follow. Father Guthrie preformed his funeral service as he fought back the tears of a man he had known for four decades that began when the priest was still an altar server.

Known for his thick baritone voice, Everette was a familiar face to most of the congregation of St. John’s. Established over a century in the poor neighbor, St. John’s was an old gothic cathedral constructed of stone walls and granite steps. It seemed to any that Everette was part of the old traditions that made the cathedral sturdy.  But now that Everette was gone, there seemed to be something vital missing from the cathedral that could never be replaced. Even the gargoyles aloft whose heads the heavy rainfall ran through, seemed to be mourning his death.

Viola Gainsworth sensed the heaviness in the air a week later. She could hear the weight of their voices when they spoke of his passing. Even Father Guthrie took time out of his sermon to add his own heartfelt grief.

What the people also did not know that Sunday morning was that Viola Gainsworth who sat among near the front was really an agent. Her interest had been piqued by the weight of their grief. For her, death had always made her feel the weight of their mortality.

When mass was over and the congregation was exiting the cathedral, Viola ran her wrinkled hands along the altar rail of veined marble as Father Guthrie and two altar boys tidied up. When the priest looked up and saw Viola, he walked over to see what she wanted.

“Good morning, I’m Father Guthrie and you are?”

“Viola Gainsworth.” She held out her hand which the priest politely shook.

“What can I do for you?” He smiled.

“I came this morning in regard to the late Everette Tubbs.” She nodded.

“Did you know him?” He asked tilting his head.

“As a matter of fact, I did know him well.” She shook her head, “I came because I felt the grief.”

“Oh, my condolences.” Father Guthrie concurred. “I can’t imagine this place without him.”

“I am sorry for your loss as well, father.” She nodded, “I find this church quite striking.”

“In what way is that?” He turned his head slightly after she made this strange remark.

“I find this place to be a peaceful refuge.” She glanced up at the depiction of Jesus sitting in his throne in Heaven.

“Yes, this church is a place of solitude where you can converse with God.” He found this woman to be a bit odd in his brief observation, but there had been many who perplexed him at times. Once he remembered Everette had asked about God’s forgiveness in a matter of a grave sin. Even after explaining it to him, he did not seem to comprehend the answer Father Guthrie had given him.

“What church do you usually attend?” He asked a blunt question.

“Oh, I do not attend church.” She smiled and shook her head.

“Then why did you come in to St. John’s this morning?” He folded his arms across his cassock.

“Curiosity, I suppose.” She continued to smile which made him a bit uneasy, “It seemed strange to me that so many seemed to grieve his loss.”

“There is no need to be curious.” Father Guthrie smiled hoping to appear welcoming.

“Oh, I’d rather doubt that.” She bowed her head, “I’m sure if you knew who I was, I would not be welcome here.”

Father Guthrie did a once over of the strange old lady wearing mostly black garments. After a quick examination, he uttered, “How so?”

“I am medium from down along the lake side. Madam Wanda Blackbird who tells fortunes and reads tarot cards.” Her black eyes started directly into the priest’s soul.

“You are from the devil.” He pointed his finger at her. He felt as if her cold fingers had touched his soul.

“I told you I was not welcome here.” She laughed.

“Repent and all will be forgiven.” Father Guthrie responded.

“I do not wish to repent, because people of all kinds come to me for advice. People from your own congregation as a matter of fact.” She closed her eyes and began to tremble, “You were arrested as a youth weren’t you?”

“I will not confess to you.” He turned his head away from her.

“Ah, but I saw it in your soul.” She raise an eyebrow.

“I paid for my sins.” He raised his chin in defiance.

“Did you now? Did you really? What about the boy who helped you steal that car?” She purred contently.

“There was nothing I could do for him. He was driving when he lost control of the car and died in the wreck.” Father Guthrie felt very uncomfortable having his secret revealed by this strange lady.

“You know Mr. Everette Tubbs came to see me quite often.” She tilted her head.

“He was a decent man. Why do you speak ill of the dead?” His voice caught in this throat.

“I know him. He came to me shortly after his wife Ehtel passed away. I would bring her spirit to him so he could talk to her. When he left he would tell me how grateful he was for my service and he would stuff a fifty-dollar bill in my hands before he left. Did you know he served in the Korean War?” She raised her chin to get a look at Father Guthrie’s reaction.

“No, I didn’t.” He shook his head.

“Why not? According to what you told me, he was close to you during his labors in this church wasn’t he, Father?” She put her hand to her chin, “Perhaps we should have a séance so he could tell you himself.”

“No, I will not allow Satan to enter this holy place.” Father Guthrie raised his voice.

“Don’t fool yourself, father. Satan attends mass every Sunday.” She chuckled. “If you wish I could bring back Julian Gates.”

“Don’t you ever speak his name from your filthy profane mouth.” He pointed his finger at her as his face turned red.

“Just offering a chance to tell the boy who died in that car that you were sorry for that happened to him.” She tilted her head.

“Get out!” He wailed, “Be gone Satan!”

“As you wish.” She waved her hands above her head and disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.

“Oh holy Father, take pity on your lowly servant.” Father Guthrie fell to his knees sobbing.

Unbeknown to Father Guthrie, Viola Gainsworth did not leave St, John’s. She stood with the gargoyles as the rain began to fall from the black night sky.

“So, did you speak to Father Guthrie?” One of the gargoyles asked as she passed by.

“Yes, I spoke to him, Ovid.” She leaned over the edge peering down at the rain-drenched street.

“And what did he say?” The little gargoyle asked. He had been carved in stone with horns on his head and a pointed beard.

“What I expected.” She shook her head.

“He is quite a stickler for the rules.” Ovid moved slowly.

“I asked for a séance for Everette Tubbs. It did not go well.” She hung her head letting her rain-soaked ebony black hair drain.

“Everette asked if you could arrange it.” Ovid leaned on the stone gargoyle next to where Viola was standing.

“I will arrange it, but it will have to be elsewhere.” She sniffed.

“He wanted it to be in the place he spent most of his time on Earth after Ethel passed away.” Ovid reminded her.

“I am aware.” She dropped her head once more, “I will do what I can.”

“You are the best.” Ovid claimed, “That’s what I tell everybody I know.”

“Everybody. All you do is talk to these stone gargoyles with rocks for brains.” She scoffed.

“Ah, Madam Blackbird, you have wounded me.” Ovid shook his head before taking his place among the others.

Her store front included a large plate glass window with a painting of her with her headdress  holding some tarot cards in her hand. In silver letters painted on the window read, “Come experience Madam Wanda Blackbird as she sees into your future.”

“Where have you been, sis?” An old lady appeared from the deep shadows of the small establishment.

“Out.” She answered, “Lola, why are you up?”

“Indigestion.” Lola answered. Her face showed more lines than a road map and her nose hung over her mouth like a hawk’s beak. According to the story she told of herself, she was a bonafide witch. Lola wore the title like a crown. Her main duty was helping her sister during her seances and card reading sessions. There were a lot of special effects that added to the theater of the occult and Lola was an expert in all of them.

“We have a séance tomorrow. I need you to be ready.” Viola demanded. She know her sister needed her rest in order to be ready. Their customer was Larry O’Brien who was a news reporter with the six o’clock news. He was famous for exposing frauds and swindlers helping to keep his network ratings high.A chubby round fellow, Larry was quick to judge and point out flaws and hype. She was looking forward to making him look like a fool with her sister’s help.

“I will be ready for Larry. He will leave this place screaming for his mother.” Lola cackled. “I must take my powders now so I can sleep like the dead.”

“Stop saying that.” Viola sneered, “No need to be overly dramatic.”

The following evening, Larry left their lair screaming after seeing visions of horrors too ghastly even for nightmares. The sisters sat at the table laughing with delight as Lola’s special effects provided truly dreadful scarring Larry O’Brien bad enough to wet himself.

“That was fun, Lola.” Viola reached over and put her hand on Lola’s, Viola was still dressed in her Madam Wanda Blackbird costume of a long black gown and see-through silk vails that hung from her turbaned head, “I would like to have a séance for Everette Tubbs and invite that insolent priest.”

“Everette was a good man, sister.” Lola sipped her tea.

“Yes, but like all men, he had his vices.” Viola put her hand to his chin.

“He did favor the liquid spirits.” Lola nodded.

“Do you know what amazes me?” Viola smiled like the serpent in the Garden.

“What?” Lola shook her head.

“People seldom us the real person behind the mask.” She furrowed her brow. “How many people walk among us who are not who they appear to be?”

“I suppose you are right.” Lola yawned.

“How many people know your secret?”

“Only you, sister.” Lola frowned.

“I think Ovid knows.” She gave a half shrug.

“That little imp.” Lola slapped the table with her open hand.

“He is and yet he sits up there with the rest of those gargoyles and nobody has a clue.” She lifted her chin. “What year was it?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” Lola turned her head away from her sister.

“It was 1625 as I recall.” Viola folded her hands under her chin.

“Please-“Lola grimaced.

“When they found you guilty of witchcraft and then-“

“They hanged me with thirteen other women.” Lola buried her head in her hands.

“I tell everyone you are my sister, but no one knows that isn’t true. People are so gullible.” She cackles. “When I read the story in the newspaper, I had to give you a séance and in doing so, I brought you back from the dead.”

“Must you remind me?”

“Yes sister, to let you know, you owe me.” Viola’s voice was deep as it had been during the séance that brought Lola Goggins back from the dead.

Viola used word of mouth instead of social media to get the word around about Everette’s séance. Father Guthrie got wind of this as well, but he had no idea this was no accident.

“I can’t believe she is going through with it.” He shook a fist when one of the invitees disclosed the details concerning the séance.

“She is father.” Thomas Tejean nodded after telling Father Guthrie all about the séance.

“She is doing the work of the devil.” He grinded his teeth together in his outrage.

“She has power.” Thomas nodded frantically.

“Power of the devil.” He felt his ire boil over. “I will attend this event to show her the power of God.”

“I’d be wary of if were you father.” Thomas remarked before leaving the rectory.

“He knows and he plans on being there.” Ovid waddled over to Viola.

“Excellent.” She nodded as she peered over the edge where she could see the lake front spread out before her.

“Be careful, Madam Blackbird, he is vehement in his religious fervor.” Ovid warned.

“Leave that to me.” She scowled, “He shall see what my power can do.” She continued to peer out from her lofty height.

“Oh, I’m glad I won’t be there.” Ovid moaned.

Lola had the room filled with folding chairs and set a gambit of special effects. Everything was ready when the first guests began to file in for the séance. There were early arrivals who staggered in with their eyes wide wondering what kind of magic was waiting for them.

“Do you think Everette will really appear?” A woman asked the man sitting next to her in the back of the room.

“I don’t know Doris. I’ve heard some wild stories about this place.” He whispered to her.

Lola peeked through the slightly ajar door.

“Wow, there are a lot of people out there.” She reported to Viola.

“It will surely be a night to remember.” She was putting on her turban, “Do you have the picture of Everette?”

“Yeah, photograph from the church’s records last year.”

“That’s the one.” She snapped her fingers.

“When do we start?” 

“In three minutes. Is Father Guthrie here yet?” Madam Blackbird checked herself in the mirror over her desk. “Lola, open the dry ice. Let the fun begin.”

Lola did as she was told. A thick layer of fog-like smoke drifted from the dry ice. People began to gasp as Madam Blackbird appeared through the haze. Just as she went to sit down, Father Guthrie entered the parlor. There were no vacant seats meaning it was standing room only.

“Welcome to the séance of Everette Tubbs a familiar face to those who attend mass at St. John’s. They have sent Father Guthrie to observe this special event.”

Father Guthrie nodded and waved, but his expression conveyed only annoyance.  

“Many of you remember Everette Tubbs to be a gentle giant of a man who served St. John’s faithfully, but few know that he had his weaknesses since he enjoyed his spirits from time to time. He also enjoyed gambling as well and lying to Ethel his wife when there was nothing left of his paycheck. But I won’t dwell on that which made him a human being. A man with strengths and weaknesses like all of us sitting in this room.” She made a dramatic pause as she scanned the room.

“Tonight we are going to call him here from his peaceful eternal rest.” She stood as the table began to visually vibrate as the gathering gasped and whispered to one another.

“Everette Tubbs are you here?” She called out with her arms spread wide as the tape player played a voice recording of the late Everette Tubbs. But just as his voice sounded over the speakers hidden in the dark room the tape snapped which was followed by silence. A few of the guests began to mutter among themselves.

“Are you here, Everette Tubbs?” Madam Blackbird called out unaware that the tape had snapped.

“YES, I AM HERE!” Everette Tubb’s voice boomed through the room, “Why have you called me, Madam Wanda Blackbird. Why have you wakened me from my eternal sleep. Why have you disturbed me?”

His face appeared overhead. Everette Tubbs was very angry. Even Madam Blackbird began to shudder.

“When my wife died, I had so many questions asked of me. No one would leave me to my grief. Not one of you sitting here understood the pain I was going through. And now that death has mercifully come to me, you continue to make me wallow in my misery. What would you do if I did the same to you? ANSWER ME!”

The windows shattered. People pushed to get out the door. The table Madam Blackbird was standing at was upended. Father Guthrie was suspended in the air. His hands and legs flailing as he was removed from the room. He was deposited into the cold waters of Lake Michigan.

“None of you knew me. None of you cared while I was alive, but now that I am dead, suddenly you want to know about me. TOO LATE!

“The shop is destroyed.” Viola shook her head.

“I guess we really made him mad.” Lola shook her head, “At least I knew how he felt.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I do.” Lola nodded as she took Viola’s arm as they walked along path around the lake.