What the Dead Want(54)

“We’re going to see actual ghosts?” Simon said again.

“Hopefully only see them,” Hawk said, “and not be hurt or killed by them.”

Simon tossed the box of photographs quickly to the ground.

“With any luck,” Hope said, “this is the last anniversary.”

She lit a match, cupping it in her hand to prevent the slow drizzle of rain from extinguishing it, and dropped it on the dry and brittle photographs. They curled and blackened—the wind picked up and fed the flame, and then the pile caught light and blazed brightly.

The only pictures they kept were the ones of the White Christian Patriots surrounding the church, their criminal faces clearly distinguishable, and one of George Axton, about to murder his daughter, her cousin, his wife, and an entire congregation of people.

Back inside the house, Celia and Rebecca felt lighter in Gretchen’s arms. She rocked them until they stopped weeping. Until they all fell asleep.

When she awoke she was covered in a fine white powder—like ash or dust—and enveloped in the scent of tea tree oil and chai tea. Where there had been shards of mirror, now there was nothing.

And then the house began to shift. She felt it. The great slope of it listed farther to the left with a great cracking sound. She heard it then—the thing, climbing down from the attic. Clomping its way down the stairs. It stood before her where she sat in front of the broken mirror. Then looked beyond her out the window.

“We know who you are,” she told it. “You can’t hide behind that mask; I’ve got evidence.” She turned and watched as it turned and walked out of the house, fading as it slipped into the woods.

Outside, beyond the dark cluttered interior of her ancestral home, the pyre of photographs her mother and Esther had collected of the dead was growing and blazing beneath the moon.

When she felt a cold stinging wetness on her shoulder she jumped. Mona was pressing a ball of cotton against one of her neglected wounds. Gretchen looked up into her eyes in disbelief.

Mona smiled at her.

“How . . . ?” Gretchen began. Then she started crying. Mona held her tight.

“Look at you,” Mona said, still smiling, but tears running down her face. “You’re so grown-up.” She tended to the cuts on Gretchen’s face, ran a finger softly over her swollen eyebrow. “So brave.”

“Mom,” Gretchen whispered. “I always knew you were out there. I knew I would find you.”

The house groaned and creaked as if a strong wind was pressing against its walls.

“And you almost did,” Mona said. “Almost.”





THIRTY


GRETCHEN AND MONA WALKED OUT INTO THE MEADOW and headed in the direction of the blaze.

But then Mona took her hand and led her closer to the woods.

“I was here years ago,” Mona said, “helping Esther and Sarah. We had so many theories. So many ideas about what could be causing all the accidents, the trouble. We really thought the dead needed to be acknowledged and laid to rest.”

“I know,” Gretchen said. “We found the archive you were working on, the spirit photos. Why didn’t you tell Dad and me that you were here?”

At this Mona raised her eyebrows as if it was obvious. “This isn’t a safe place for a family,” she said. “I didn’t want either of you to get hurt, or to worry about me. Mayville may look pristine and bucolic, but you know as well as I, that’s not true, the history beneath that facade needs to be revealed. It can’t be denied any longer.”

They could already make out the silhouettes of Hope and Hawk and Simon as they fed the fire. But they kept walking along the perimeter of the woods.

“I have the proof now,” Gretchen told her mother. “You were right that spirits can be photographed.”

Mona held Gretchen’s hand and brought her to the edge of the woods. There was a deep hole in the ground surrounded by flagstone.

“I love you, Gretchen,” Mona said. “And I am so proud of you and how you have taken my work and your aunt’s work and done the right things with them. And I am grateful to you, sweets, for breaking the mirror and setting us free.”

“Us?”

Mona looked down into the dark hole and Gretchen stood by her side. Peering down, she could just make out the form of a skeleton.

“It was an accident,” Mona said. “Just before the anniversary. Someone had taken the stone cap off the old well. And I didn’t notice until it was too late.”

“No,” Gretchen whispered. “No, Mom.”

“I would never have abandoned you,” she said. “And I’m so glad we had this chance to say hello before we see one another on the other side. I’m eager to see what it’s like out there.” Her voice contained the same happy curiosity it had when Gretchen was a child. She looked away from the hole and held her mother, desperately.

“Please don’t leave me again,” Gretchen said.

“I’m with you always,” Mona said. “You’re a woman now, Gretchen, and you are strong. You can make sure our family doesn’t get away with murder. You can hold this town accountable; make sure they can’t look away.”

Gretchen nodded. “Say hi to Daddy and Janine for me,” Mona said. “Tell them I’ll see them later.”