Ghost of a Shadow Read online

  “That’s terrible, Christopher. How can you say that? Mrs. Tansner is so nice to us.”

  “Ah, what can I say?” Changing the subject, he pointed to another cloud. “Hey, look…that one over there looks like an elephant with a really long trunk.”

  “Oh, it does. Hmm, that one looks like a ghost,” she said, pointing.

  “A ghost? They all look like ghosts if you think about it. White and fluffy.”

  “These are happy ghosts. I hope all ghosts are. It would be tragic if they weren’t.”

  “Just think they are, and they will be.” Christopher propped himself up on one elbow and looked at her seriously. “You know there aren’t such things as ghosts. Right, Sadie?”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. I hear lots of stories where people say they’ve seen them.”

  “I think it’s their imagination. Really, if there were ghosts, I think I would’ve seen one by now.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. You usually are.”

  He shook his head and pursed his lips. “Come on. That’s so not true.” Nevertheless, a wide smile spread across his face, and in an instant he tickled her relentlessly.

  “Stop it, stop it. You’ll make me pee myself!” Sadie managed in the spaces between fits of laughter. They both giggled at that. Little did he know she wasn’t kidding.

  Christopher eased up, and they resumed their cloud watching. It relaxed her after the torturous tickles. The hours melted away, with the conversation drifting from one subject to another, or nothing in particular, until the mosquitoes woke up and started their feast.

  “I guess we’d better get out of here!” urged Christopher. He jumped to his feet and helped Sadie stand.

  They hated when it was time to go. They walked slowly, hand in hand, back to her house.

  “Until we meet again, m’lady.”

  She loved when he called her “m’lady,” but it made her blush every time. They gave each other a tight hug and exchanged good-byes.

  Sadie lingered on that hug. Though it was two years ago, she could still feel his arms wrapped around her.

  Flash. She turned but didn’t see anything. Back to peeling carrots. A few moments later, she felt something underfoot. Blades of grass came up through the kitchen-floor tiles as if they were in a time-lapse video. Shiny pebbles pushed their way up, bumping against her toes. The grass shimmered, as if drenched in morning dew, and Sadie felt cool moisture on her bare feet.

  She pushed backward. “What the what?” popped out.

  “Sadie! Are you even listening to me?” Mom snapped, standing there with her hands on her hips and eyes of fire glaring at her.

  Sadie dropped a carrot as she whipped her head up. “Uh, yes. Of course I am.”

  “Then what did I just say?”

  “Uhhh, umm.”

  “Never mind. Go set the table.”

  Sadie surveyed the tiles, but the grass and pebbles were gone. Hmm. Another trick? They seemed so real.

  She helped her mother bring dinner to the table. Yuck, meatloaf. “Do I have to eat that?” she asked, her nose scrunched up at the thought of the first mushy bite.

  Mom turned around and growled, “I’m not running a restaurant. You eat what I make.”

  Sadie shrugged. “Whatever. You don’t have to get all huffy about it.”

  “Sadie,” Mom snarled, “you’d better cut that out, or your father will hear about it when he gets home.”

  “Fine. I’ll eat it. You don’t have to say anything to him.”

  Speak of the Devil! She heard Dad’s key in the door. A few moments later, Mom tried to kiss him hello.

  “Do you think you could give me five minutes to walk in the door? Geez, Tess. At least let me take my jacket off.”

  “Sorry, George,” Mom conceded, choking on her obvious disappointment.

  “Hey, Dad,” Sadie offered. It grew tougher by the day to speak with him.

  “Hey,” was all he could muster.

  I can see dinner is going to be fun again tonight. Awesome.

  Gramma Rose’s passing last year and Dad’s new job had started a downward spiral in her parents’ lives, especially at dinnertime. Turned out those two had been the glue that had kept everyone from spinning out of orbit. Not having Gramma around made it difficult to communicate. Dad used to keep things light, but not anymore.

  I miss the way things used to be, Sadie ruminated.

  She sat in her usual seat in front of the kitchen window, with her mother at one end of the table and her father at the other. Mom was silent. Her head lowered until all Sadie could see were her defeated curls. I guess Dad really hurt her feelings. I almost feel sorry for her.

  Sadie remembered when dinner was one of the happier times of her day. She looked at Mom. Once slender, her mother had noticeably put on weight during this last year. Then she observed her father: once toned, now downright skinny. She barely recognized either of them anymore.

  As she studied him, Dad grew increasingly distant and strange. His head split into two distinct dads. One looked like last year’s dad: kind and gentle. The other wore lines of worry and anger.

  She blinked nonstop, trying to determine what was real.

  “Sadie, is something wrong with your eyes?”

  “No, Mom. I’m okay.” She pinched herself. It stung. I’m awake.

  Then Kind Face spoke. “Hi, honey. How was your day?”

  What’s going on? He doesn’t speak that way anymore. Should I answer? Mom is speaking right over him!

  “So, George, how was your day?” her mother asked robotically.

  Grumpy Face spat out, “The usual,” as he continued eating, head down.

  Kind Face asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I don’t know how to respond. I'm just gonna put a forkful of mashed potatoes in my mouth.

  “Sadie!” Grumpy Face scolded. “Stop scraping your teeth along your fork! It’s driving me nuts!”

  At the same moment, Kind Face asked, “How’s your dinner, Princess?”

  “Huh?” Sadie looked back and forth between the two of them, uncertain which one to address. She chose to answer Grumpy Face, for fear of angering him.

  “I didn’t realize I was scraping my teeth. Sorry.”

  Grumpy Face shook his head. “Of course you didn’t realize it. You never realize anything.”

  With that, Kind Face dissolved back into Grumpy Face. Crabby won.

  Defeated, Sadie asked, “May I be excused?”

  “No, you may not be excused until we’re all finished,” Dad spat.

  Sadie sat back, arms folded, and waited for her prison sentence to end.

  CHAPTER SIX

  What Do You Mean, No Mr. Felix?

  Finn burst out of his bedroom and pushed past Miss Beverly. He felt a surge of confidence along with his desire to meet this Mr. Felix. Something about the man he couldn’t remember or didn’t yet know poked at his brain like a needle. He barely noticed the thought before it dipped back under the waves of his subconscious.

  He descended three steps on the simple wooden staircase then slowed to a halt. His senses on fire, he prepared for any action necessary then continued down the steps with a raptor’s keen eye.

  When he reached the landing, he came to such an abrupt stop that Miss Beverly collided with him, nearly pushing him over. Without thinking, Finn turned and snarled at her.

  Miss Beverly took a step back. An automatic response from the reptilian part of her brain, it didn’t go unnoticed. Finn nearly clawed the air for emphasis, but at that moment he heard voices from elsewhere in the house. His orientation immediately turned toward them. He crept across the front hall to the doorway of a large parlor, where he spied a couple sitting on an ugly green brocade sofa.

  The woman was bony. Curious, he leaned forward to see if one of the bones might pop out. Nope. He didn’t get his wish. Her hair was reddish-brown, done up in tight curls piled high on her head. Surely one of those springy things will escape? When it didn’t, he turned to
the man, whose hair was the opposite. It was lighter and tight to his head. Shiny too. He was also in danger of losing buttons from an expansion around his gut. He watched, confused, as they leaned toward each other and then away. What are they doing?

  “Frank, I can barely contain myself. I can’t wait to meet the boy already! Go fetch him.”

  “Sure thing, Marj. I’m on my…”

  The couple turned their heads in concert as Finn entered the room. He felt a little dizzy and reached out to the wall for support. In a barely controlled growl, he declared, “My name is Finn, not ‘boy.’”

  The couple stiffened, the woman patting her chest with an audible intake of air. Their faces softened after a moment. She stood up and took a step forward. “I assure you, we mean no harm, Finn.”

  The shorter man beside her offered a tentative smile. “Of course your name is Finn. Hello, Finn. I’m Frank, and this is my wife, Marjorie. We know your last name is Montgomery. Ours is Reid.” His smile melted into a look of concern. “How are you feeling?”

  “Finn is feeling…” He searched for the word, which eluded him. “…feeling…” He looked around the room. It was dim. All the shades were pulled, and he realized that he felt, as he had upstairs, strong in himself. Finn stretched up to his full height. “You want to know how I’m feeling? I’m feeling ‘Where is Mr. Felix!’”

  “I’m afraid you just missed him, sweetheart, but—” the woman started.

  “Are you torturing me on purpose, or are you simply deaf?” Finn’s voice grew louder, and his nostrils flared. “I want Mr. Felix now! I know you’re hiding something. What have you done to me? Get him for me now, wherever he is. Do it.”

  Marjorie shook her head. “But we can’t, Finn. I’m sure you can understand that he’s a very busy man. Once he leaves, he has to call on us. We can’t—”

  “I don’t understand, and I don’t care. You’d better find him for me.” Finn drew whatever calm he could from the darkened room. “I might look like a peaceful person, but I can make you hurt if I want to.”

  Marjorie and Frank exchanged glances, eyes wide. “Miss Beverly, a word in the kitchen, please?” Marj indicated the direction with her shaking hand.

  Before Finn could blurt out anything else, Frank told his wife, “You go, sweetheart. I’ll keep our guest company.”

  Marjorie guided Miss Beverly through the swinging kitchen door.

  Finn heard whispering with periodic crescendos. His brain switched to another sector and ran through possible scenarios. His current behavior created something that, in his vulnerable state, might not be in his best interest. At worst his present tactic could cause him great harm.

  At this thought, a Voice emerged quietly from between his ears. Hold up there, Finn. And please answer me in your head rather than aloud, so Frank won’t get involved.

  Finn shook his head and tilted it, smacking one ear with his hand as if to balance excess pressure in the other. What was that? Who are you? More important, are you real?

  Frank leaned in and put a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “You okay there, Finn? Do you have an earache or something that needs tending?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  Yes, I’m real enough. Never mind that now. You have to be smarter than them. You are smarter than them. You know that, don’t you?

  Well, I sort of figured, Finn answered. I have so many questions—you might be able to help me.

  Sorry, kiddo. There isn’t time for that. They’re in the kitchen right now, deciding your fate.

  What do you mean? I’m in charge of my fate!

  Well, that’s our goal, but right now you’re stuck with them because you don’t have any resources. Resources are necessary. Get it?

  Um, yeah, Finn thought. So what do you think I should do? Run out of here before they get back? Get resources?

  No. They’re part of the solution if we play our cards right. If you want the best resources, you have to know how to play the game.

  Play what game?

  Think, Finn! You have to talk the way they talk. Pretend to be kind and courteous. They’ll eat that up with a big fat spoon.

  Finn had noticed the way these people interacted with each other with certain words and tones. He found he had a selection of these stored away, and better than that, he had access to them. But kind? Courteous? These words disturbed him.

  The Voice responded, It’ll only be for a little while. You’ll see. I’ll help you. Do you know what it is to cry?

  Frank interrupted their internal conversation, cautiously asking, “Is there anything you’d like to talk about, Finn? Anything I can help you with? We’re on your side.”

  Finn could see that the man carried some genuine concern for him, and in that moment he knew exactly how to use it to his advantage.

  “Please help me speak to Mrs. Marjorie, Frank. I’m afraid I said the wrong thing, but I hope you’ll understand that I’m upset. Things come out of my mouth, but I don’t honestly mean them. I want to get along with everyone. That’s all I want,” Finn pleaded with an increasingly rising tone that led to tears. “If I could only talk to her again, I’m sure I could do better,” he added, sobbing.

  Frank placed a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder once more. “I’ll see what I can do. Please wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  “Thank you.”

  The Voice immediately returned once Frank left the room.

  Perfect performance, kiddo.

  Yeah. I thought so too.

  You’re on your way now.

  What can I call you? Finn asked. When can I call you? But there was only silence.

  When Marjorie emerged from the kitchen, followed by Miss Beverly and Frank at a bit of a distance, she also had tears in her eyes.

  “You wanted to say something to me, Finn?” she asked with care.

  Finn could feel her surrender through the hesitation in her words. Also, now that he understood more about the power of tears, he knew she was ready.

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Please give me another chance,” he begged. “It’ll take some time to adjust, but I’ll do my darnedest.” He presented her with his best pleading eyes and practically felt Marj’s heart melt.

  Frank put his arm around his wife. They smiled at Finn while Miss Beverly watched, nodding. Finn continued to pump out a few tears, but inside he felt pleased with his manipulation and the new help that had spoken to him at the perfect time.

  And so it was decided. Finn would stay on probation for the next three months. If there were no further incidents, he would be welcome to continue living with the Reids.

  ❄❄❄❄❄❄❄

  Three months passed faster than anyone could have expected. Finn shot up in height and remained lean. He was everywhere at once, offering to help, staying out of the Reids’ way, smiling to gain advantage and trust. And gain it he did. Still, not a single memory returned.

  By the end of the probationary period, all three of them nearly forgot that it had come around, since things were going so well. But March fifteenth was circled on the calendar to remind them. Marj prepared his favorite lasagna dinner that night for a surprise celebration.

  Finn watched the long arc of cheese stretch from the pan to his plate as she served him the first piece. They had no idea he had executed all this to ensure he’d be able to stay. Smiling, he took the first bite of his dinner. It was all too easy, but how long could he keep up this charade?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Dear Rufus

  With dinner finally over, Sadie escaped to the solitude of her bedroom. She couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened. The kitchen floor turning into their backyard. Her dad’s head splitting into two faces. What’s going on? she wondered. Was it real, or am I hallucinating?

  Okay, not going there. I need a distraction. It’s time to take matters into my own hands again. I need to get away from this place, if not physically then at least mentally.

  Sadie looked around her
room. Reading isn’t going to help. It takes too much concentration. She stood in front of her bookcase and noticed some shiny plastic. Hmm. She took out the unwrapped journal she had received for her last birthday from Aunt Sue. I never thought I’d use this, but maybe tonight’s the night. It seems like the right time, I guess. When really is the right time to write all my secrets on paper?

  Sadie climbed onto her plush, purple window seat. She loved it—and like the bed in the Goldilocks story, it was just right. The stiff new journal smelled a bit like plastic, but she was ready to give it a go.

  “Dear… Hmm, what do I call you? ‘Dear Diary’ sounds so common. How about ‘Dear Rufus’? Yeah, I like that…”

  Dear Rufus,

  Today is my first attempt at writing things down. I never thought of doing this. I always thought it was silly, but then I read that Antoinette Barrows in Mystery at Harmony Lake (that’s my favorite book right now, Rufus) did it, and she said it made her feel better. It helped her say things she couldn’t say to anyone else, even the awful people in her life. Things would be worse if I told everyone what I really thought of them. I’d better find a safe hiding spot for you. I definitely don’t want anyone (aka my parents) reading this. I mean, it’ll probably be mostly about them.

  “Okay, let’s start for real this time,” she proposed.

  Dearest Rufious,

  “No, seriously, I’m going to start now.”

  Dear Rufious von Doofious,

  “Wow, even when I’m upset I can still crack myself up,” she snorted. “Okay, start now…start…now.”

  Dear Rufus,

  My parents never let me say good-bye to Ruby. They knew she was sick. I knew she was sick, but they never told me how sick she really was. All I know is I came home one day from school, and Ruby was gone. They could have waited until I got home. They should have waited until I got home. They didn’t have to bring her to the vet while I wasn’t there. They said it was better that way. Said I would get over it.

  Well, it’s a year later, and I still haven’t “gotten over it.” She wasn’t just any dog. She was my dog. Ruby was different. She was special. She was a present from Gramma for my first birthday. She had a certain look in her eyes every time I confided in her, and I knew she understood me. She did everything I asked her to do—and even things I didn’t, like bring me my socks on a chilly morning. We were the same age almost to the day, and she slept with me every night since I was small. When no one else was around, I had her company. Everyone loved Ruby. How could I not have been allowed to say good-bye? It’s not fair.