Dead to Her(56)

She nodded. What else could she do?

“Good. I’m going to get dressed, then decide what to do while all this chaos reigns. This party had better be worth it!” It sounded like a threat rather than a joke. “Come find me in ten minutes.”

It was a command, as if she were the assistant, not Elizabeth. Maybe they were all bought and paid for. Interchangeable. Robots with different function settings. He paused, his eyes catching on something to his right, and then he frowned. More than frowned. If an expression could growl, that’s what William’s face was doing. His skin paled, leaving only two red blotches high on his cheeks.

“Did you do that?” Each word was a quiet hissing drop of acid. It took a moment before Keisha realized what he was talking about. She followed his eyes and her mouth dropped open. The photo. The one she’d taken out of the dresser. Eleanor looking happy with her arms wrapped around Lyle, when he was just a smiling boy thinking he had decades of the world ahead of him.

Her mouth moved, unable to form an adequate excuse as William glared, hate and rage and embarrassment at himself for marrying her all fighting for supremacy. She was about to force out some breath of begging apology when Elizabeth cut in.

“Oh, silly me, I’m so sorry. One of Eleanor’s charities wanted a less formal photo for a fund-raiser in her name. I was looking for one and must have left that one out.” She shrugged, almost helpless. “I’m so sorry, William, I know how you don’t like to be reminded of Lyle’s death, how painful it is for you. I’ll put it back.”

But what about Lyle’s life? Keisha wanted to ask. Surely that was something to treasure. Surely that was worth a little pain. Another boy who was no longer there, like the ghost she saw. Did Lyle exist only in dreams now? That place where no one can hide from themselves, where the doors to all hidden worries and fears swing open at night?

William didn’t look convinced, but he nodded curtly, before turning his back on them. “Ten minutes,” he called back to Keisha, no warmth in his voice, only irritation. She didn’t answer. She wanted to cry. There was a long pause after he left, the two women sitting in quiet before Keisha looked at Elizabeth.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I take it that was you?” Elizabeth tilted her head, a curious bird. She had deep crinkles around her dark eyes and they looked like laughter lines and Keisha thought it might be nice to one day be old and have skin that creased in confession to a happy life. “Why?”

Keisha sighed. “I don’t really know. I don’t know why I do half of what I do. I just thought . . . You’ll think I’m stupid. I just thought, well, if there is such a thing as ghosts, and I feel like she is still here, then it might help her rest more easily. All that love and loss shouldn’t be hidden away like it never happened.”

Elizabeth smiled. “That was very sweet, Keisha. I think you’re a very sweet girl.”

“I’m not,” she said, afraid she might cry. “I’ve never been good.”

“Well, I think you are. I’m sure you’re no saint, don’t get me wrong, but goodness is something else. And I see it in you. Maybe it’s hidden away because it’s had to be, but it’s there.” She took the cold cloth and carefully folded it, even though it was no doubt going straight into the laundry, before getting up and putting the photo back out of sight.

“Why are the photos all hidden away?” Keisha asked, wanting to think of anything but the sickening thud of the conjure ball on the stairs. “I could kind of understand if Lyle had died recently, but it was years ago, right? Didn’t they want to remember him? To see him around the house, even if it was just in pictures?”

“Oh, Eleanor would have had them everywhere, especially in this house, where there were no memories of raising him. It nearly broke her when he died. She didn’t want him to join the military but you know how boys are. Lyle wanted to impress his father and he thought that would work. Of course, almost immediately the conflict in Afghanistan started. That was just poor Lyle’s luck. He died very quickly. One of the first U.S. casualties.”

“Oh God,” Keisha said. “That’s awful.”

“It nearly killed Eleanor as well. I’ve never seen someone in so much pain. But she was strong. She got through it.”

“And William?”

It was Elizabeth’s turn to let out a deep sigh. “Men are different. They’re like children. He was hiding from his guilt as much as his pain. Guilt for forcing Lyle to do something that was out of character. William couldn’t face that any more than Eleanor could face her grief at first.”

“Out of sight, out of mind,” Keisha said softly. If only she could feel that way about the conjure ball. The strange old woman. The silver coins.

Elizabeth smiled gently at her. “Something like that.”



It had been a day that shimmered, like looking through melting glass. Everything was too bright and she couldn’t focus. By midafternoon Keisha’s head was pounding, each painful thump the conjure ball falling one step closer to her, an endless tread on a stairway to hell. They’d gone for a silent lunch, during which William spent most of the time checking emails on his phone while she drank her wine, and then he snapped at her when she tried to kiss him across the table, saying she was drunk and causing a scene.