What did it tell her? Nothing.
She ran her finger along Patience’s name. No date of death. What did that mean?
Probably nothing. A mistake. Aunt Brown forgot to write it down.
Aunt Brown forgot? Haley was pretty sure Aunt Brown never forgot anything.
Well, then, Haley had made the mistake. That was much more likely. It wasn’t like it meant something.
It wasn’t like Patience had never . . . died.
Somebody kicked her foot. Hard. Haley jerked her head up.
Mr. Samuelson was standing at the whiteboard, a marker in his hand.
“Francis Scott Key,” whispered a voice from behind her.
“Francis Scott Key?” Haley repeated hopefully.
“Correct.” Mr. Samuelson gave her a slightly suspicious look and wrote the name on the board. “And yes, thank you, Kevin, what exactly was Mr. Key so famous for?”
Haley glanced back over her shoulder. Alan O’Neil met her eyes and grinned.
Haley crumpled the family tree up. When the bell rang, she got to the door as quickly as she could. A blue recycling bin was by her knee. She would just throw the family tree in there and forget about it. Right now.
“So what was so interesting?” Alan’s voice was at her shoulder. “Can I see?”
“No!” Haley squeezed the piece of paper into a tighter ball, crushing it in her hand. “I mean—nothing. It’s—um. Thanks. For back there.”
“You okay?”
“Fine.” Haley didn’t dare throw the family tree away now. Alan might see it, or anyone might pick it up, and then—“Sorry, I have to go somewhere. Else.” Embarrassment was about to crush her. She’d collapse in on herself, a little black hole of humiliation.
“But you’ve got lunch, don’t you?” Alan looked bewildered.
“Haley? You okay?” Mel was at her other side.
“Fine!” Haley yelped. It had been bad enough looking like an idiot in front of her dad this morning, but now, in front of Alan O’Neil?
“Have to take some pictures,” she gabbled. “For the paper. You know? Just outside, just around, the lunchroom, that kind of—”
Nobody in all those horror movies ever mentioned embarrassment as a peril of being haunted, she thought, as more meaningless words spurted out of her mouth. Monsters who rip you limb from limb, vampires who suck your blood, demons who steal your soul, sure. But nobody tells you about the possibly fatal danger of looking like an idiot.
She fled. She stayed carefully out of sight, even though it meant eating her sandwich perched on a windowsill in the girls’ bathroom.
This was ridiculous. She had to do something. Something to get all of this out of her head.
Swallowing the last bite of her turkey sandwich, licking mustard off her upper lip, Haley made up her mind. After school was over, she killed time in the office for the school newspaper, fiddling around with the layout as if she actually had some new photos to put in. She finally met up with Mel again once Mel’s Amnesty International meeting was over. They stood on the steps in front of the school, Mel pulling on her gloves and Haley zipping up her jacket. And, in her head, Haley heard the conversation they were about to have.
Mel, would you come back to the cemetery with me?
Why?
To see if somebody named Patience is really dead.
It wasn’t going to go well. But Haley couldn’t help herself. The words were lifting off her tongue and nudging against her teeth. No matter how stupid it was going to sound, she wanted some company. She wanted her best friend.
“Mel, listen . . . ”
“Hey. You going anywhere?”
Alan O’Neil, a pair of soccer cleats hanging over his shoulder, had turned back from a group of his friends. He’d definitely turned back, Haley thought, analyzing the moment. Spun around quickly, as if he wasn’t giving himself too much time to think, and taken a couple of steps so he could talk to them. It wasn’t like he’d just said hi in passing. He’d made an effort.
“Hey, no, we’re not doing anything, really.”
“Actually, we—”
Mel and Haley spoke together. Mel looked over at Haley in surprise.
“We’re going over to Starbucks,” Alan said, jerking his head at the friends waiting for him on the sidewalk. “You want to come?”
Was he asking one of them out and the other one just to come along? But he was talking to both of them, looking at both of them. If the invitation was meant more for one than the other, it was impossible to say which.
Mel was addicted to Frappuccinos. She grinned widely. “Yeah, really? Sure, let’s go.”
“I can’t.”
They both looked at Haley.
“I mean, there’s something I have to—”
Haley stopped. Maybe she could have said something to Mel. No way she was going to look stupid twice in one day in front of Alan.
“What do you have to do?” Mel had walked down a couple of steps, but she turned to look up at Haley.
“Just—something.” Haley shifted her backpack on her shoulder. “You guys go on, though. Go without me.”
“Are you going over to Jake’s? Again?”
“No.” Too late, Haley realized that she ought to have said yes. That would have been the perfect excuse.
But it would also have been a lie. Another lie. To Mel, who’d been her best friend since second grade.
“What is it, then? Come on. You never—wait a minute, okay?” Mel said to Alan. Then she ran back to Haley, grabbed her arm, and pulled her up a couple more steps.
The conversation that came next happened in hot, angry whispers.
“You never do anything anymore, Haley!”
“I do so. I was going to the mall!”
“But you didn’t.”
“That wasn’t my fault!”
“And yesterday you just disappeared. I waited for you after school. You never said—”
“So now I have to check in?”
“I know stuff’s going on, but—”
“Stuff!” Was that the way Mel thought of it? Just stuff? It wasn’t like Haley could tell her all of it—the glove, the heartbeat, the writing in the dust, the family tree in her pocket—but didn’t Mel get it? What Haley was dealing with? “It’s not just stuff!”
“I know. I know that, but you can’t just—” Mel flapped her gloved hand.
“And I’ve got something to do. It’s more important than some stupid Frappuccino! You don’t understand!”
“Yes, I do!”
Haley was shocked into silence by the anger in Mel’s voice. Mel never got mad. Mel cared about her dead grandmother and about sparrows and about people in jail in faraway countries with unpronounceable names. And now Mel was really mad? Mel was really mad at her?
“I do understand, Haley.” Her words were sharp and bright and shiny as knives. “You know I do. Or you would if you spent five minutes thinking about somebody besides yourself!”
And Mel walked down the steps toward Alan and his friends, leaving Haley alone.
So now Haley was going to visit a graveyard for a second time, this time alone, with the sun dipping closer to the horizon than before. Wonderful. In horror movies, this was the kind of thing that got people killed.
But this wasn’t a horror movie, Haley told herself. It was her life. Okay, things had gotten a little strange lately. That didn’t mean there was any real danger in the old cemetery. That monsters were going to leap out from behind a tree and devour her.
No. It didn’t. Definitely not. Even if she was all on her own as she leaned her bike against the fence and walked through the wrought-iron gate.
Well, not completely on her own. She did have an eager-to-please golden retriever for protection. After Mel had walked off with Alan, Haley had gone home to get Sunny. At least Sunny, now panting happily after running down the streets alongside Haley’s bike, wouldn’t dump her for a guy.
She couldn’t believe Mel had acted like that. As
if she didn’t know. As if she didn’t care.
A flock of tiny brown sparrows burst up from the grass and zipped past Haley’s head. Their little wings moved so quickly they blurred as the birds swooped and dipped toward a nearby tree.
Someone had scattered fresh birdseed on one of the graves. Haley could guess who.
(I do understand, Haley.)
Even so. Even so, Mel didn’t have to go off and leave her.
Except that Haley had told her to.
Fine. Haley realized that she’d stopped, staring after the little birds. She pulled Sunny’s leash and starting walking again.
Maybe Mel did have a point. Maybe it wasn’t fair to be so angry at her.
But nothing was fair anymore, was it? So why couldn’t Haley get a little mad now and them? At Mel. At her mom, for not doing Thanksgiving properly. At her dad, or Elaine, because all they cared about was Eddie. And that definitely wasn’t fair, Haley knew it wasn’t fair, and she really, really didn’t care.
Because it wasn’t like she could be mad at . . .
It wasn’t Jake’s fault, after all. He didn’t choose to get sick.
(He chose to pick up that cigarette, though, didn’t he? He chose to come home from the hospital.)
Now the light was starting to fade from the cloudy sky in a pale, washed-out sunset of bleached pink and faint peach. Haley’s camera was in her pocket. She slipped it out and took a shot of a sad-faced stone angel, with that ethereal light behind her.
The last sliver of the sun melted away behind the trees like butter on a hot skillet. But the sky was still bright, and there was plenty of light to see by. Sunny trotted calmly at Haley’s side as she put the camera away and walked on.
(He’s only twenty-three. He could have stayed in the hospital. He could have tried . . .)
The old willow leaned over the Brown family headstones, its branches bare and empty against the deepening blue of the sky.
(He said he tried for a long time.
Not long enough.)
None of the stones were for Patience. Haley worked her way out from Mercy’s grave. Edwin, Grace, Mary, George.
(He acts like it doesn’t matter. He makes these stupid jokes, like it’s all just—nothing. A punch line. Like being gone forever doesn’t scare him.)
She looked further, out into distant cousins and aunts and uncles. More Marys. Elizabeth. Anne. Jane and Janet, sisters. Theodore and Allister, brothers. Name after name, cut into old, pale-gray stone. But no Patience.
What did that prove? Nothing. For all Haley knew there was a grave somewhere else. Maybe Patience got married. Maybe she was buried with her husband’s family. Maybe she moved to Alaska to pan for gold or to China as a missionary and was buried there, a neat headstone somewhere far away.
And even if Haley had found a grave, what would that have meant? What would she have done then?
(I need him. Doesn’t he get that? Dad and Elaine are too busy with Eddie. Mom’s off in New York, and maybe she’ll really notice me when I’m good enough to have something to hang on the walls of her gallery. And even Mel . . .)
Mel had been Haley’s best friend forever. But that didn’t mean she was family.
Not like Jake.
She doesn’t know.
I tried to warn her. But I can’t do much. She’s the one who will have to do something.
I have to find a way. I have to make her see.
Haley rested one hand on a tombstone, the cool stone smooth under her fingers.
Family. The same blood in your veins, the same DNA coiled in every cell of your body. Haley remembered the family tree, the branches stretching back through the years. Browns connected to each other, in life and even in . . .
Well. In death. That was what a place like this meant, wasn’t it? That family was family, dead or alive.
“Um . . .” She cleared her throat and glanced around to be sure nobody could hear her. The graveyard was deserted.
Sunny sat down on her haunches, wagged her tail once, and looked expectantly at Haley. What now? her eyes said.
“Um. Mercy?”
It was stupid. But there was nobody to see her being stupid, so that was okay.
Family was family, a tangled web of connection, blood and nerves and genes and emotion stretching back over years and years. And Mercy was part of Haley’s family, just like Jake, so maybe all the strange things that kept happening meant that Mercy had something to say.
Then, okay. Haley would listen.
“Mercy? I’m here. If you want to . . .”
Nothing. A cold breeze stirred the twigs of the leafless birches and ruffled the long grass at their roots. Haley’s fingers and ears and the tip of her nose grew colder. Sunny scratched at her ear, jangling her collar, and the sweet, chilly, metallic sound drifted across the graveyard.
Stupid. This whole thing was stupid.
“Come on, Sunny.” Haley tugged at the leash. Disappointment curdled in her stomach. Disappointment? Why? Shouldn’t she be happy that she wasn’t getting visited from beyond the grave? That her life was just her life, not some idiotic horror movie?
It didn’t make any sense for her to feel let down. Just like it didn’t make any sense to be mad at her own cousin for something he couldn’t help.
She couldn’t be mad at Jake. She really couldn’t. Because that would make her a horrible person. She couldn’t—hate him. For making dumb jokes and smoking—smoking—how disgusting. And for going away and leaving her.
Haley slid the hand that wasn’t holding Sunny’s leash into her jacket pocket and felt her camera there. She took it out. The light was going, but she’d take one last shot of Mercy’s grave. Sort of a good-bye.
She turned on the camera and centered Mercy’s headstone in the viewscreen. She tipped the camera a little, and then dropped it. It hit the soft damp grass without a sound.
Haley fell to her hands and knees, scrabbling after the camera.
She’d imagined it. Hadn’t she? Some trick of the fading light had created what she thought she’d seen—dark eyes wide in a pale face, a mouth that might sob or shriek.
Haley’s trembling fingers closed around the little metal box. She sat back on her heels and raised the camera hesitantly, aiming it at Mercy’s grave once more, and then looked into the viewscreen again.
The face was there, framed by dark hair. Haley’s gaze went quickly to the actual grave, but there was nothing to be seen. Nothing except the stone that had stood there quietly for more than a century.
But on the viewscreen, the face rushed toward her, the mouth opening, the eyes full of desperation. Haley fell back, flat on the damp grass, her arms flying up to fight off the thing that was leaping on her.
Except that nothing did. Nothing touched her. She sat up and got shakily to her hands and knees, stuffing her camera quickly into her pocket.
And then she felt it. The faint vibrations rose up through the ground. She felt them in her legs, in her outstretched hands.
Da-DUM.
Da-DUM.
This time the sound didn’t just tease at the edge of her hearing. This time it was loud, heavy, rhythmic pounding, and it sounded to Haley as if it would never stop.
Sunny sat down beside her, wagged her tail, and panted happily into Haley’s face.
Stupid dog. Haley shoved herself to her feet, grabbed the leash, and ran.
At the gate she stopped, pulling Sunny close. The sound had faded, left behind at Mercy’s grave.
Gritting her teeth, Haley turned. But there was nothing behind her. Nothing had chased her; nothing was reaching out to grab her. Nothing but her own fear, which clutched her in long, icy fingers.
What was happening to her? Was she being haunted? Was she being—she took a few shaky steps to put her back against the cemetery fence—hunted?
They’d said that Mercy would not stay dead. They’d said that her heart, beating within her corpse, had sucked the life from her own family.
Haley had thought it was
nothing but a quaint old New England tradition. She had called it ignorance and superstition and fear. But Mercy’s family and friends and neighbors—could they actually have been right?
And was somebody walking down the driveway of Aunt Brown’s house?
Haley blinked and looked again. The light was fading fast now and there were no streetlights on this road, so she couldn’t see details. But the long skirt, the straight back, the quick steps that seemed to cover more ground than they should—she knew them.
Aunt Brown? That was impossible.
Sunny pulled back hard on the leash, yanking Haley off balance. Retreating, the dog tugged Haley into the shadow of a large monument. Under the shadow of a stone angel’s wings, Sunny crowded against Haley, almost sitting on her feet, and whimpered. Without thinking, Haley knelt to pull the dog close and clamp one hand around her muzzle. Somehow she felt it would be a bad idea to make any noise right now.
“Shhh,” she whispered. “Shhh, it’s okay . . . ”
Hugging Sunny, she peered back around the monument.
The figure in the long skirt was now walking briskly down the road. Haley could see more clearly now—the long hair brushed smoothly back to a knot on the back of the head, the cardigan over the white blouse. It was Aunt Brown, and she walked as if she knew exactly where she was going and was in a hurry to get there.
Haley gritted her teeth. Beside her, Sunny whined. There was no sense huddling here in a graveyard. It was just Aunt Brown, after all, and if she were out for a walk, that was weird, maybe, but not exactly scary.
So stop being scared, Haley ordered herself. Stand up.
After a little while, she did. She peered around the stone angel. Nothing.
Nothing? How could there be nothing?
There was no sign of the quickly moving figure in the long skirt. The road ran long and straight past the cemetery, and there was not a single person on it. But nobody could have moved that fast. Certainly not an old lady who hadn’t left her house in Haley’s lifetime.
Who everybody thought hadn’t left the house.
Haley stood up cautiously, holding Sunny’s leash.
Mercy Page 8
