Shadowed Summer (13 page)

Elijah’d turned Miss Nan into an old drunk and had driven his mama crazy, so as far as I was concerned, he could go back to purgatory, where he belonged.

It felt like freedom to tell him to go away.
Go away, you old bag of bones; nobody cares about you anymore.
I sang that under my breath as I picked tiny shards of glass from the carpet.
You’re dead and gone.

Inspecting the living room, I rearranged Daddy’s magazines to hide the dull spot the spilled pop had left on the coffee table; then I went upstairs to take a shower. Lathering carefully around my sunburn, I felt older inside, like I’d been tested and passed.

Without Elijah, I had a whole summer to myself again. It would be all right if me and Collette read magazines all day long. We could fight over the quizzes in the back and go online to pick places to live when we finally got out of Ondine.

Wearing my new self proudly, I just stared when I stepped out of the shower to find a handprint in the steam on the mirror. Beads of water trickled from the ragged edges of the print; in the curve of the palm, I caught a hazy glimpse of myself gaping. All I could hear was that awful scaled rasp of stones pouring on stones.

I smeared my hand across the glass. “Go away,” I said.

I got dressed and slipped into bed, tugging a blanket corner across me before closing my eyes. Nothing ever happened in Ondine, and I planned to prove it.

Nothing happened that night in my room, either, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t fall asleep.

Watching day grow brighter through my windows, I’d just gotten tired enough to drift off when the phone rang. I turned over and covered my head with a pillow to ignore it. The shrill didn’t stop, though. I swore that it rang for five whole minutes before I finally answered.

Silence filled the line for a moment, then a voice asked, “Iris?”

I frowned. “Yeah?”

“This is Ben,” he said, concern coming through. “Did I wake you up?”

A quick look at the clock told me it was barely eight. Decent people never called before noon unless somebody’d died or had a baby. Irritated, I rolled over. “No. What do you want?”

“Just, you know, to say I’m sorry I didn’t stay to help clean up.”

“It was one glass.”

“I know, but still.” His voice hedged, cut with a hesitation that made me nervous.

“All I needed was for you to walk Collette home. It’s fine.”

“My daddy’s got a bunch of boxes from high school in the attic, if you want to come look through them,” Ben said. “You and Collette, I mean.”

It made me mad, the way he jumped up to be my friend when Collette didn’t want anything to do with him. “Nope. I’m done with Elijah.”

“What? Why?”

Sunlight suddenly streaked through the window, the morning rise finally getting past the trees. I watched dust dance on the light and stirred my fingers through it to make it spin. “He’s mean.”

Ben snorted. “I’d be mean, too, if I couldn’t rest.”

“Then I’m not coming to look for you if you disappear, either.”

“Who asked you to?”

“Good thing you didn’t.”

Being done with Elijah meant being done with Ben, too, and I’d have to pull him off like a Band-Aid, quick and sharp, no matter how funny I thought he was. “I’ve got chores to do.”

“Sorry I called,” Ben mumbled, then hung up.

I listened to the line buzz for a minute. The quiet filled my ears, and the cut on my cheek throbbed in time with the ache starting behind my eyes. Finally, I hung up, too.

That heavy, empty feeling refused to go away. I spent the morning doing my chores as slowly as possible, then wasted the rest of my time before lunch peeling my room down to its core. I planned to scrape all evidence of Elijah out of there; I would use the leftover paint in our shed to make everything new again.

Halfway through sanding my old white desk, I nearly had a heart attack when I heard a door close downstairs. A tight band closed around my throat. I never noticed how fast I could get dizzy before, but it was like I couldn’t think.

My body moved, though. It started for Daddy’s room, and I was just about to bang on his door when I heard my uncle Lee’s voice rumbling up the stairs.

“Where’s my chickpea?”

Relieved and tumbling over myself to get to him, I crashed down the stairs and right up to my uncle Lee. He smelled like ginger, and his hug was exactly what I needed.

“You didn’t say you were coming!”

Uncle Lee grinned as he nudged me toward the kitchen. “I move in mysterious ways. Where’s my lazy brother? Still in bed?”

“Yes, sir.”

I smiled when I saw the box on the kitchen table. Uncle Lee was the king of tag sales, thrift stores, and clearance outlets, and every so often, he’d roll in with a box of treats for me. Clothes and detective stories, Belgian cookies in gold tins, and one time, a silver gel pen and a pad of black paper. I always kind of hoped for another one of those pads, because I liked it too much to use up.

Leaning back on the counter, Uncle Lee watched me dig through the latest collection. “There’s some catalogs and old pictures in the bottom, but those can wait. Catch me up—what’s new?”

“Well, let’s see,” I said, then stopped at a soft red shirt in the middle of the box. It had a V-neck and swirling sleeves and a tie around the middle. Ducking into the downstairs bathroom, I talked through the door as I changed. “Collette’s all bent out of shape about Ben Duvall.”

Uncle Lee laughed. “Is that so?”

I tugged the new shirt over my head, shivering at the cool, silky fabric on my skin. “It’s messed up. She wants us to hang out together. Then when we do, she gets mad if he’s nice to me. And gets mad at me if I’m
not
nice to him. Now I think they’re broke up, so who knows?”

“Let’s see it,” Uncle Lee said. I stepped out of the bathroom and he slipped his hands into his pockets, sighing. “Lord, don’t you look grown?”

Smoothing the shirt with my hands, I looked down. “I guess so.”

“Take my word.” Uncle Lee pushed off the counter.

I turned and let him fix the tie. “So what do I do?”

“About Collette? Nothing.”

Looking over my shoulder, I frowned. “That’s not advice.”

When Uncle Lee let go, he rubbed his hands. “In a couple years, Ben’ll be a punch line to a joke only y’all two know. Until then, nothing. She can’t hold nothing against you.”

“You don’t know Collette,” I said.

Uncle Lee made a face as he pulled his keys from his pocket. “Where’d that mouth come from? C’mon, let’s go for a joyride.”

We didn’t eat out much; Daddy said that for what most folks spent on fast food in a week, we could cook our own dinners for a month, so we did. That made going to a restaurant a special occasion.

Uncle Lee let me pick, and I chose the teahouse out on the river. From my window seat, I could see the water drifting by. The sunlight on the waves hypnotized me, dancing like fireflies, glimmering like stars.

With a low, disapproving sound, Uncle Lee tapped my foot with his to get my attention.

“Don’t you fall in love with the river,” he said. “First it’s the river, then it’s the rivermen. Then the next thing you know, you’re on the run with a gambler, crying when he loses your wedding ring in a hand of five-card stud.”

I picked up my menu, fanning it lazily in front of my face. “Oh really? Is Uncle Carl a gambler?”

“Hardly.” Uncle Lee snorted, then sat back. “Look now, maybe I fell in love with an accountant, but take my word. I still know everything.”

Feeling like I had nothing to lose, I said, “Then you know about ghosts.”

“I do.”

“So tell me.” Real quick, I added, “About a real one; I don’t care about make-believe anymore.”

“You probably don’t remember Granny Boone, but she was my favorite.” He shushed me from ever sharing that secret before he went on. “When I was at school at Tulane, I woke up one night and saw her standing at the foot of my bed. I thought it was strange that she was there, but I wasn’t scared. She smiled at me and told me to go back to sleep, so I did. About a half hour later, Jack called to tell me Granny’d passed.”

A quick shiver ran through me, and I stopped fanning my menu. “Really?”

“Yes, missy.” Uncle Lee nodded. “Our family’s so full of ghosts, we could rent ’em out two for a dollar. Uncle Bobby got a call from his wife the day
after
her funeral.” He put his menu down as our waiter approached. “Then again, Uncle Bobby thinks the CIA is stealing his trash. I don’t know that you can take that one for the gospel.”

I ordered, then willed the waiter away so I could get back to my haunted family. “Who else?”

Uncle Lee leaned back and said, “You tell me.”

There was that tone that said he knew, that said I could confide in him. Breathlessly, I said, “I saw Elijah Landry in the cemetery.”

Uncle Lee’s smile changed; it turned shaded and thoughtful. “Is that so?”

I realized if Daddy knew him, Uncle Lee must have, too. “Y’all got on?”

Squeezing lemon into his sweet tea, Uncle Lee nodded. “He was Jack’s best friend. What makes you think it was him?”

“He said so. He wrote me a note. And I saw pictures in the newspaper; I know it was him. He wants me to find him. That’s what we’ve been doing this summer.”

“How about you back up,” Uncle Lee said.

So I did, to the beginning. All through étouffée and first coffee, I spilled it out, until I had nothing left in me but a lingering doubt. Turning my glass with the tips of my fingers, I asked, “Am I crazy?”

“No.” Uncle Lee shook his head. “Papa Charles buying four dead mules on purpose, that was crazy. This is just wound up.”

Uneasy, I pulled my chair closer to the table. “It’s true, though.”

“I believe you,” he said. “But I’m glad you’re done with it. What you’re talking about, Eli wasn’t like that. He had his moods, but he was kind.”

The way he said it made me feel ashamed, like I’d been caught talking about somebody behind their back. I fibbed and said, “Maybe it’s not him, then. He could still be alive.”

Uncle Lee set his napkin aside. “I think Jack would have heard from him.” He slid the dessert menu in front of me. “Pick something with strawberries for me. I’ll be right back.”