Ghostlight

by Sonia Gensler

  “Oh, Weasley.” I knelt down to rub his arched back and scratch his chin. He rumbled his appreciation. “What do I do now?”

  He stared at me for a moment, his eyes dark and glistening. Then he slipped through the cat flap in the utility room door.

  “Lot of good that does me,” I muttered.

  Only the breezeway door remained, so I returned to the front of the house. Opening the screen door as quietly as possible, I said a little prayer before twisting the knob on the inner door.

  No luck.

  I eased the screen door shut and swiped at a sting on my ankle. My bug spray was officially starting to wear off.

  Options? None. Well, just one, but it would come at a price. I made my way around to the west side of the house and tapped on the music room window.

  No answer.

  I tapped louder. Please, God, don’t let Blake be plugged into his stupid music.

  I’d clenched my fist to knock when the window opened.

  “What the heck, Avery?” Blake’s hair was smashed on one side and sticking up on the other. “Are you crazy?”

  “I’m locked out. Let me in the carport door.”

  He groaned. “I’m not walking past Grandma’s bedroom and all the way across the house to let you in.”

  I swatted at another mosquito. “Then let me through the breezeway door. But please be quiet.”

  “What do I get for being quiet?”

  “I don’t care. Whatever you want, Blake. I’m tired.”

  “I’ve heard a life of crime can be pretty exhausting.”

  I’d reached the top step when I saw a beam of light through the glass. Blake was using the flashlight function on his phone. He unlocked the door without too much noise and even held the screen door open as I slipped through.

  I gripped the knob, taking the door’s weight as it softly clicked shut. Now all I had to do was make it through the living room without the floor creaking and I’d be home free.

  Blake sniffed. “What’s that smell?”

  He flashed the light at me.

  I couldn’t help looking down. The stain was drying, but it still stood out clearly against the lighter fabric of my pants.

  When I met his gaze again, he rolled his eyes in disgust.

  Something inside me snapped, and the wave of tears dammed up in my skull chose that moment to break free. Tears spilled down my cheeks, and I gasped and hiccuped, which only brought more tears and hiccups.

  “Jeez, Avery, what happened?”

  “Ju-Julian tricked me. He and Lily sc-scared me on purpose.”

  “What were you doing out at night? Oh, never mind, you’d better calm down or Mom’s going to hear you.”

  “I p-peed my pants.”

  “Yeah, I see that.”

  “They totally scammed me, Blake. A film geek and a little girl.” I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. “No wonder you hate me. I’m such a loser.”

  His shoulders sank. “Aw, I don’t hate you. You really are crazy tonight.”

  “I’m serious, I—”

  The floor creaked in the living room, and both our heads snapped toward the doorway.

  Mom stood in the light of Blake’s phone lamp, her hair wild with sleep.

  “What on earth are you two doing?”

  “You’re going to wake Grandma, and then we’ll all be in trouble,” Mom whispered. “Blake, you need to go back to bed.”

  “Fine with me,” he muttered.

  “Avery, I’ll speak with you in the sewing room.”

  I crept through the living and dining rooms, dodging all the creaky spots in the floor. The shock of seeing Mom had dried my tears right up, and a strange calm had settled over me. Once we were inside Grandma’s sewing room, Mom carefully closed the door behind us and turned on the lamp.

  “All right, young lady. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You do know I question people for a living, right?”

  I shrugged.

  “Okay, have it your way.” She gestured at my clothes. “You’re fully dressed and you’ve been outside. Were you with that boy, Avery? Do I have to worry about that sort of stuff already with you?”

  “What stuff?” My whole head felt hot. “Jeez, Mom. I don’t like him that way.”

  Her shoulders softened. “I’m still waiting for an explanation.”

  “We were filming. Julian wanted to film at night.”

  “Why at night?”

  I looked down at my hands.

  “Avery?”

  “It’s a ghost movie, Mom,” I said. “And Julian needed a scary scene…so he scared me.”

  She leaned back. “What in the world gave you the idea to make a ghost movie? You hate scary stuff.”

  “It wasn’t my idea. Julian is obsessed with Joshua Hilliard and that old house. He decided on a ghost movie when he found out Joshua’s daughter drowned in the 1937 flood.”

  “Margaret Anne didn’t drown.”

  “What?”

  She waved the question away. “Where were you filming, exactly?”

  “Inside Hilliard House.”

  Her eyes widened. “How did you get in?”

  “I…borrowed Grandma’s key.”

  She stared at me for a long moment. “Avery, when did my baby girl become a thief?” Her voice was low and flat, which meant she was furious. “When did she decide it was okay to sneak around and lie?”

  A minute ago all I wanted was for this lecture to be over. For me to change out of my smelly pants into pajamas and fall into bed. But now my blood was pounding again.

  “Maybe I learned to lie from you.”

  She flinched. “What? I’ve never lied to you.”

  I crossed my arms. “I want to go to bed.”

  “I don’t think so. If you’re going to say that to me, you need to explain yourself.”

  We played the staring game. I dug in, ready to stare back until she caved and let me go to bed. But hardly a minute passed before my eyes started burning and my leg twitched, and I just couldn’t keep from blinking.

  “Well, Avery?”

  “I found an old photo of you,” I finally said.

  “And?”

  “I was looking through Grandpa’s albums for pictures of the people who lived at Hilliard House. I got to the album with you as a little girl, and as a teenager. You never told us much about that time, Mom.”

  “There wasn’t much to tell. You know I felt pretty lonely on this hill.”

  “Well, you weren’t as alone as I thought. That photo I found…Grandpa had folded it in half. But I saw part of a hand on the left side. So…I took it out of the album.”

  Her face crumpled. “Oh, Avery.”

  “How could you forget to tell me you were married? We could have had a real daddy, but you pushed this man away and never told us a thing about him. Or never told me, anyway.”

  She stood silent for a long time, her face drooping. She’d always seemed young for her age. I mean, she was older than most moms I knew, but she still dressed young and took care of herself. In that moment, though, it was easy to see how she might look when she was Grandma’s age.

  Finally she moved Grandma’s sewing chair toward me. “Sit.”

  I did as told, watching her as she rolled the desk chair toward me and sat.

  “I didn’t tell you about Rick because I didn’t want to confuse you. I didn’t want you to think he might have been your dad. Blake figured it out after Grandma slipped up last summer. He wanted to tell you, but I told him you were still too young.”

  “I wasn’t. I’m not.”

  “Fine. What do you want to know about him?”

  I thought for a moment. “I guess…I just want to know why you couldn’t stay married to him.”

  “All right. But it’s better if I start from the beginning.” She cleared her throat. “I married Rick when I was nineteen. I’d always meant to go to college, but he was my high school sweetheart and he kind of swept me off
my feet. And, honestly, I think Grandma and Grandpa were pleased, because it meant I would stay in Carver County instead of going far away.”

  “Did he hurt you or something?”

  She shook her head. “He was a nice enough guy. But…his world was so small. He was happy staying in the county, working a shift, and coming home to watch TV at night. He didn’t want to go to college, and he didn’t want me to go, either. I wanted to learn and travel. To take risks and grow. Rick just wanted a quiet, safe, simple life.” She ran both hands through her hair. “It was a mutual decision to end it.”

  “And then you moved to Texas.”

  “I went to UT and worked at the same time. I applied for every scholarship and grant I could find. Even if Mama and Daddy had the money for tuition—which they didn’t—I wasn’t about to ask them to pay for my leaving. I’ve told you all this before.”

  “I know, but I want to hear it all—including the stuff you’ve kept from me.”

  She nodded. “After working for the university for a few years, I decided to go to law school. I worked harder than I’ve ever worked in my life. I’ve been working hard ever since.”

  “But you must have met another man you liked along the way. Someone to make a family with.”

  She smiled and used her Southern voice. “Why, Avery May, I never knew you were so conventional.”

  I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but it didn’t sound good. “How am I conventional?”

  “It just means going with what everyone else thinks is normal. Maybe you’ve been watching too much Little House with Grandma.” She took my hand. “I certainly didn’t expect to be having this conversation at Grandma’s.”

  “I’m not a baby, Mom.” I took a deep breath. “Do you not like men anymore?”

  She placed my hand on her palm and stroked my fingers. “It’s not that simple. After Rick and I split up, I focused on my dreams. And I worked long hours for years. I was friendly with people at school and work, but I didn’t have a whole lot of friends. Does that make sense?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “I always knew I wanted kids, but I couldn’t even think about it until I made partner at the firm. I never wanted to have to tell you or Blake that I couldn’t pay for your college tuition.”

  “I get it, Mom.”

  “Good. So…by the time I made partner, I was in my mid-thirties—already at that iffy age of getting pregnant, and there was no life partner in sight. I’d been too busy for friends, let alone boyfriends. But I wanted a family so badly, Avery. Well, I wanted kids. I wasn’t so sure about another husband.”

  “So you just bought what you needed from a donor.” I couldn’t help cringing, even though I could tell it hurt her feelings.

  She took both my hands. “I was running out of time, and I couldn’t make the love of my life appear out of thin air. I’m sorry.”

  I stared at our clasped hands.

  “Avery, look at me. I know I didn’t do this the traditional way, but we’ve had a good life, haven’t we? We’ve had so much love.” She placed my hands back on my lap. “I didn’t realize how much not having a father bothered you.”

  “It’s always bothered me,” I whispered. “Ever since I started school, anyway.”

  “We’re a different sort of family, and at your age that’s hard. But, honey, even with one parent you get more love than a lot of kids get. Will you try to remember that?”

  My eyes were welling up again. Part of me was still angry, but deep in my belly was a coil of shame that twisted wider and wider.

  “I will,” I finally said.

  “Good.” Mom shifted in her chair. “Now, your first task is to return that key to Grandma.”

  “Are you going to tell her everything?”

  She held my gaze for a long moment. “Honesty is important to me—you know that. If she asks me a direct question about it, I’ll have to tell her. But for now she’s probably better off not knowing about your antics at Hilliard House. If you give me the key now, I’ll put it back the first chance I get.”

  My chest sank. “I…um, don’t have it. Julian does.”

  “Well, you’d better get it, my girl. Grandma will be looking for that key soon—you know we have a meeting with the Realtor—and there’s no way I can protect you if she learns what you’ve done with it.” She stood. “Now go clean up and put those clothes in the hamper. Quietly.”

  I slept a dark, dreamless sleep and woke to a fat beam of light coming through the window. Ordinarily Grandma couldn’t abide slugabeds, but Mom must have convinced her to leave me alone. By the time I stumbled downstairs, she and Blake were coming in from the garden.

  “Hey, sleepyhead!” Mom tousled my hair. “We made a quick job of it this morning. Need to head to the lake before it gets too hot.”

  I waited for Blake to complain about having to do my work, but for once he kept his mouth shut. Actually, he looked at me almost like he was concerned. It creeped me out a little.

  “What?” I rubbed my cheek. “Do I have slobber on my face or something?”

  “No.” He glanced back at the kitchen. “Are you, um, okay?”

  I nodded.

  “That Julian kid is bad news.”

  “I’m getting the key back today. Mom knows everything.”

  “Yeah, she told me.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Guess you’ve foiled my evil blackmail scheme.”

  “Are you guys ready for a quick breakfast?” Mom called from the kitchen. “We need to hit the road.”

  “Get your suit,” Blake said. “Mom’s already packed the towels and lunch. She says you can get the key after we come home.” He turned toward the kitchen.

  “Hey, Blake?”

  He glanced back at me. “Yeah?”

  “Sorry…about last night. And about missing the garden work.”

  He turned to face me, crossing his arms. “Oh, believe me, I’m working up a new and elaborate plan for extortion.”

  I stared at him for a moment, my mouth hanging open. Then I saw the twinkle in his eyes.

  “Right,” I said. “Just remember two can play at that game, Mr. Summer-Reading Fail.”

  —

  Having a day like old times—the three of us talking over one another as we drove to the lake, me and Blake horsing around in the water—helped push the whole dark business of Julian out of my mind for a while. Mom must have asked Blake to be extra nice. Any other time that would have ruined things for me, but after such a crazy night it was pretty cool.

  The magic started to wear off on the drive back. I was worn out from swimming and too much sun, and once we hit the gravel driveway to Grandma’s house, the darkness and dread settled right back in. It would’ve been so much easier if I never had to see Julian again. If Mom would just get the key for me, I could fold those memories away and shut the drawer on them.

  I sent her a fragile, tormented look when I climbed out of the car, but she was having none of it.

  “Go jump in the shower, Avery. You still have a job to do, and it needs to happen before supper.”

  “But, Mom, it’ll take a while for my hair to dry and all—”

  “Your hair can dry on the way. Get a move on.”

  Half an hour later I was crunching gravel on the walk down to Hollyhock Cottage, Julian’s tablet in my hands and a wet ponytail dripping down my back. The hope that Curtis Wayne would be in a baking mood pushed me through those final steps up to the door, but when I heard the sounds of guitar strumming and singing, I knew there’d be no cookies or conversation to ease things along.

  I knocked lightly on the door. After a moment it opened and Lily peered out. The shadows under her green eyes told me she was still having trouble sleeping.

  “Hey, Avery,” she said softly.

  I straightened. “I came to get the key to Hilliard House.” I glanced past her toward the living room. “But I can come back if this is a bad time.”

  “It’s okay. Dad’s writing songs now, so he doesn’
t really hear us anymore. We have to stand right in front of him and shout to get his attention.” She opened the door wide. “Julian has your key.” She turned to lead me toward the staircase, but after one step she paused. “Avery, I’m sorry. About…you know.”

  I guess if I was a nice person—a Christianly person—I would have smiled and told her it was okay. Instead the heat came to my face, and I wondered if she was just messing with me again. She was a little actress, after all, and she’d well and truly tricked me last night.

  “I just need the key, Lily. Otherwise I’ll be in even bigger trouble than I’m already in.”

  She nodded with a sad little sigh—still acting?—and led me up the stairs. Julian’s door was shut, so she knocked three times, paused, and then knocked twice. After a moment I heard footsteps on the wood floor and the door opened.

  Julian looked tired, too, and the cut on his cheek was puffy. His whole body seemed to droop when his eyes met mine.

  I handed him the tablet. “Now give me the key back.”

  Julian set the tablet on his bed and walked to his desk. Lily sidled out of the room, but not before one last glance at me. She sure had the “pitiful child” act nailed. I turned back to see Julian reaching for a small plastic box, which he popped open and shook until he saw what he wanted. He pulled out the key. Then he turned in his chair and held it out to me.

  He was going to make me walk to him and take it. Without even saying a word.

  I hoped my face didn’t look as red hot as it felt.

  “So that’s it?” I finally asked. The words came out kind of choked.

  He shrugged.

  “You don’t have anything to say to me? I think you owe me an apology.”

  “I’m sorry, I guess.”

  It came out more as a sigh than a heartfelt statement.

  I snatched the key from his hand. “You guess? You guess you’re sorry? You used me, lied to me, made me lie and steal, and then you scared the pee out of me. Literally. And all you can say is ‘I’m sorry, I guess’?”

  “Are you done yet? I have other projects to work on.”

  I would have stormed out at that moment, except…his eyes glistened suspiciously.

  “It wasn’t all lies,” said a small voice from the hallway.