Slow Dance in Purgatory(54)

“She wasn’t very old when our mother died – maybe five or six. The women in our family haven’t had much luck in life.” Irene’s brave little smile cracked around the edges. “Early death, very few children, difficult marriages – or maybe I should say difficult marriages, very few children, early death.” Irene laughed humorlessly at herself.

“Anyway, Elizabeth, my little sister, came into my room about a week after my mother died. I was about thirteen at the time. Lizzie was crying and saying she wanted Momma. I tried to comfort her, but she kept insisting Momma was in the kitchen, but that she wouldn’t talk to her. It was so strange. I had forgotten all about that.” Irene looked up at Gus, a perplexed frown on her face. He had stopped pacing and was listening intently.

“There were several other times Lizzie claimed to see our mother, always doing mundane things. Except for once, when Elizabeth was nine and fell out of her tree house and broke her leg. She told me Momma had waited with her until our nanny found her.

“Our grandfather passed away not long after that. I remember because Lizzie’s leg was still in a cast. We pushed her around in this awful wheelchair for months. After the funeral, we went to our grandfather’s home for the wake. Lizzie started laughing and pulling on my skirt. She pointed to the rocking chair my grandfather always sat in and said, “He’s not dead Reney. He’s right there! Daddy was teasing us!” My father was not amused. In fact, he punished Lizzie pretty severely. After that, I don’t remember her ever claiming to see someone who wasn’t there. At the time, I thought she had just grown out of it….but maybe she just stopped telling us.”

Gus moved to where Irene was perched, her hands clasped neatly in her lap. “Miss Irene, I think we need to consider that maybe your sister saw ghosts, and her granddaughter, our Margaret, does as well.”

“You think Johnny frightened her in some way….frightened her enough that she….what? Spent the entire night in a haunted school? That doesn’t make any sense. Wouldn’t she run shrieking for home?”

“I don’t know what happened, but I think it is more in line with romance than with haunting,” Gus suggested gently.

“She’s…. in love…. with a ghost?”

“That’d be my guess, yeah. And he’s in love with her.”

***

Shad crept up the stairs to Maggie’s room, trying not to alert the adults below that he was there. Both Irene and Gus were old fashioned farts who thought young men should never set foot in the bedrooms of young ladies. How then, was a young man supposed to see his sick lady friend? Shad thought he could be in and out before the old folks even knew he was there. The last he heard, they were in a deep discussion.

Irene had helped Maggie into bed, and then Grandpa Gus had kicked Shad out of the living room so he could talk to Maggie’s aunt privately. He wondered what he was telling her. He didn’t know if Maggie had said anything on the way home; Grandpa had given Shad the keys to his old truck and told him to follow behind him and Maggie in the car. Apparently, Gus hadn’t trusted Maggie to drive. Under different circumstances, Shad would have been thrilled to drive solo, but the pleasure of the rare privilege had been ruined by his worry for Maggie. He had stayed close to his grandpa and driven to Maggie’s without incident. Not too bad for a fourteen-year-old.

He pushed Maggie’s bedroom door open very slowly and poked his head through the opening. Maggie’s hair was tumbled across her pillows, and her eyes were closed. She lay very still but Shad could tell she was faking it.

“Oh look! I have found my Sleeping Beauty!” Shad said in his most manly, Prince Charming voice. He gave himself an English accent, too. “I must kiss her sweet lips and awaken her from her deep, deep sleep.”

Shad approached the bed. Maggie didn’t even flinch.

“Here I come, sweet maiden. I have slain the dragon and wish to take you from this cold, lonely tower. Ahhhh, my princess! Your lips are as red as the rose, your skin as white as snow – actually I like my skin a little browner, but hey, you’re workin’ it – and your hair like the darkest ebony.” Shad broke into a little imitation of Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder singing Ebony and Ivory as he leaned over his unresponsive audience. He didn’t know very many of the words, so he resumed speaking in his princely voice.

“Here I go, fair lady! Prince Shadrach will now lay a fiery kiss upon your soft lips….” Shad got within an inch of Maggie’s mouth before her hand shot up and covered his puckered lips.

“Don’t even think about it, Shadrach Jasper.”

“Gotcha,” Shad replied, smirking. He pushed Maggie’s legs aside and sat down on the bed. He gave Maggie a thorough once-over. She stared back, her face pale, her eyes dull and darkly circled.

“You’re not lookin’ so good, Sleeping Beauty. We might have to start callin’ you Sleeping Not-so-fine if you don’t snap out of it.

“Thanks, Shad. I’ll definitely call you the next time I’m down so you can kick me twice as hard.”

“Just sayin,’” Shad shrugged. “So are you gonna tell me what the hell happened at Haunted Honeyville High?”

“No.”

“That’s it? Just…no?”

“That’s it. No.”

Maggie and Shad stared at each other, neither of them blinking. Shad was the first to look away, sighing in exasperation.