The Ghost Belonged to Me (10 page)

When in doubt, tell the truth, as the saying goes. Though I never thought for a minute a fellow as worldly as Lowell Seaforth would credit a ghost in the barn and a message from the Great Beyond.

When he heard me out, he said, “Sure it wasn't some little neighborhood girl dressed up and playing the fool? Seems to me just yesterday right where we sit I saw a girl under these snowball bushes.”

I told him that Inez Dumaine was definitely not Blossom in disguise, though I gave Blossom credit for informing me that I was receptive to the Unseen. “This is a tall tale, Alexander,” Lowell said. “Let's us have a look at the barn.”

We went around the house and under the shadow of the Dutch elm, fetching up beside the hitching post. Lowell examined everything pretty close, though I was in some question about how seriously he took my story.

“Captain Campbell built this place, didn't he?” I nodded, noticing that Lowell's brows were knitting. “Then why do you reckon he had these initials carved on the hitching post instead of his own?” I looked down at them as I had done many a time without thinking. I looked down at I.D.

“Inez Dumaine,” Lowell said and looked at me with new eyes. I stared at the initials, and my throat went dry.

Lowell had a look up in the loft, but I hung around outside. He seemed to want to do his own investigating. He was up there quite a spell, and once when I started to lean an elbow on the hitching post, I thought better of it. Finally, he came back.

“Somebody's been up there pretty recently,” he said. “There's a small wet footprint, though why there should only be one I cannot figure.” I told him it was a regular feature of the place, and had he happened to see a small wet dog?

“No,” said Lowell, “but nothing would have surprised me. I am a skeptic regarding the supernatural, but there is nothing natural about that loft. Sure you didn't think up a name to go with those initials on that hitching post, Alexander?” he said, possibly to catch me off guard.

“I'm sure,” I told him, and he believed me.

“I will tell you straight, Alexander,” he said. “Amory Timmons and the trestle is a big story, bigger than I ever bargained for so early in my career. But when we add to it your ghostly take, I wonder if it won't stretch the credulity of the readers.”

I was not altogether sure what credulity meant, but I got the drift. “Well, if it is all the same to you, Lowell, why don't you keep me out of your story altogether?”

“I'm afraid that wouldn't do much good,” he replied, “considering that rumors circulate faster than newspapers.”

As proof of that, Mother came out on the back porch calling me. When she spotted Lowell, her eyes lighted up, but she was distracted. We drew near, and she looked from one of us to the other. “Oh, Mr.—”

“Seaforth,” I said.

“Yes,” said Mother. “We are deeply in your debt regarding the party yesterday, and I—have you met our daughter, Lucille?—won't you step inside and take some refresh—” Mother made several half turns and fanned the screen door. “Alexander, there are people out front mentioning your name. Your father is dealing with them, but he is hardly equal to it, and I think—oh, the two of you had better step inside.” But she blocked the door for some time, trying to get her priorities in order.

We finally eased her through to the hall. From the other end of the house came a buzzing of voices. The only one I could make out was Dad's. He was saying, “As far as I know, Alexander was not off the place all last evening.”

“You had just as well face your public,” Lowell said to me, casting Mother into deeper confusion.

Then from the group of people in the front hall, the motorman stepped out, pointed his finger at me, and said, “That there is the boy!”

But he was pushed to one side by a girl with a number of flowers on her hat. I didn't recognize her, but she made straight for me and threw her arms around my neck.

“Now see here,” Mother said.

But the girl burst out, “Here he is! Here is the boy who was our salvation! Here is our hero! We would all have been dead in the crick but for this here boy!”

Several other half-familiar people surged forward, pinning Mother to the wall. The men were not so outgoing as the girls, but all were very loud with their gratitude. I could hardly draw breath from the number of wet kisses and claps on the back I was receiving.

I looked up once to see Lucille gazing down from the stairway in blank amazement. Then she shifted her gaze to Lowell who was behind me and a new look came into her eyes.

Above the din, Mother's voice howled out, “What are these people doing in my house?”

 

 

 

 

UNSEEN HAND GUIDES YOUTHFUL HERO

 

Crowds of the curious milled around down at the end of the lane from early Monday on. I was at home to observe them in the distance since Mother said I was to skip school until this blew over. Dad mentioned that as anything unusual is in short supply, this was not likely to blow over anytime soon. Lucille was in an agitated state, eying me with unspoken suspicions. She was still not sure whether she and Tom had been spoofed or spooked. And either way, she didn't like the attention I was getting.

Neither did I. Mother drew the blinds early Monday and gave me a good grilling. She was unable to swallow this ghost business, and unwilling. I wasn't allowed farther than the front porch and then only as Dad was making an early start to work.

“Well, Alexander,” Dad said, “I had hoped that once Lucille's party was out of the way, we could settle back to some normal living. Now my hopes are dashed.” He rummaged around for his cigar clipper and continued, “But this new development is your story, and you are stuck with it.”

“Dad,” I said, “to the best of my knowledge it is all true.”

“Alexander,” he said, “if I didn't think that, you would already be skinned and hung up to dry. The thing about it is, you were not cut out for a quiet life because you are honest to a fault. As your mother is not within hearing, I'll say to you that you are a throwback to Uncle Miles, God help you.” Then he nipped off his cigar end and started down the porch steps into his day.

By afternoon, the sheriff had posted a guard at the end of the lane. Still, Cousin Elvera Schumate got through. She advanced toward the house, and there was no bird on her hat. She was strictly business.

“Luella,” she said, “I have come to you in your hour of need.”

“Oh, Elvera,” Mother said, “if it is not one thing, it is another. I believe in my heart we are cursed. First Tom Hackett and now this. Vulgar publicity will finish off our good name. I don't know why I even try. It has all been for my children, and it seems they are both out to ruin us all they can.” She spoke at length on this theme and fingered her cameo.

Cousin Elvera said, “There, there, do not take on.”

And Mother replied, “You don't know what it is, Elvera. A childless woman cannot know the grief.”

Gladys came into the parlor more than once to say that quite a number of people wanted to talk to me over the telephone. She'd chatted with them all. One was a reporter from the Alton paper who would pay to see the barn. One was somebody local who claimed to be a ghost catcher. And one was a lady from Pittsfield who had regular conversations with the dead and would be glad to team up with me. Mother told Gladys to hang up without conversing henceforth.

It was a well-nigh endless day, particularly after Cousin Elvera got there. She and Mother spent the afternoon murmuring in the parlor. I had not thought I was one to mind missing school, but I took to roaming without purpose around the house and staring up at the ceilings, thinking that if I could perceive an Inez, Captain Campbell might be the next step.

Lucille finally came in from the high school and exploded all over the parlor. She was in a temper since none of her friends wanted to speak of her party but persisted in quizzing her about my fame. Mother replied that the less said of both events, the better. Lucille went to her room.

Then Mother called me into the parlor, and I could see her powwow with Cousin Elvera had come to a satisfactory conclusion. “Alexander, draw near and sit down on that horse-hair sofa. There are times, Alexander, when it is better to be thought a naughty, untruthful boy than—than to be thought an eccentric one. Do you follow me?”

I did not and said so.

“Let me try it another way,” Mother said, shooting a glance at Cousin Elvera, who nodded. “It was a very brave thing to have hailed that streetcar and saved all those people. And they are all very grateful, as you know. Do you follow me?”

I did and said so, but I was not so much as a word ahead of her.

“Well then, it would be better not to take any credit whatever for doing a good deed, as might have been in your mind when you stole away from the scene of the—accident Saturday night. But when people come to you with hearts full of gratitude, you have to acknowledge it and you have a right to. Are you still attending me?”

I was and said so, and fairly interested since Mother had never before informed me of any of my rights.

“And so, we—I do not see why you must hide your light under a bushel and—and share your credit with—somebody else. You have my permission to announce to all and sundry that you were only acting on a hunch—or perhaps something Bub might have told you. That your story about the—barn was only a fabrication. And then you need not share your glory with a—a—”

“Ghost,” said Cousin Elvera, “particularly since there is no such thing.”

It was my private opinion that if they had displayed ghosts down at the St. Louis World's Fair, she would be quick enough to claim she had shaken all their hands personally.

I didn't like the idea of retracting my first story, especially since it was true. On the other hand, I didn't like defying Mother and Cousin Elvera whose combined forces could stop the U.S. Cavalry cold. I told Mother I would give her words serious thought and headed to my room without making any commitments.

On my way upstairs, I heard Cousin Elvera said, “He is a sensible boy basically, and I feel sure he will come around to our way of thinking.”

“If he was a sensible boy,” Mother said, “we would not be in this mess.”

I sat up on my windowsill gazing without thought down on the barn that afternoon. Suddenly, the barn door opened a crack. Then it was ajar, and Blossom Culp's head appeared from inside, turning to scan the yard. She seemed to signal an all-clear to someone behind her. Then she crept out into the lane. Following her was a man carrying a tripod camera and a device for flash powder.

She put her finger to her lips and then pointed down to the gravel. The two of them made a silent retreat toward the side of the barn. Before they disappeared, though, she halted the stranger and put out her hand. He propped his tripod against the barn and dug into a pocket, coming up with folding money. Blossom deposited it down her shirtwaist front, and the two of them departed.

That night Cousin Elvera stayed to supper, and the conversation touched on every topic except recent issues. I was up in my room again by nine. I knew Mother expected me to make an early retraction of my story, and I was half persuaded to go along with her. A quiet night would have convinced me. But that's not the way matters arranged themselves.

I slept for a while and awoke to moonlight. Slipping over to the window, I surveyed the barn. But if Inez was afoot that night, she was sending no signals. One more trip to the barn, I thought, and I will put the whole business out of my mind and be quit of it. I drifted down through the creaking house and out across the yard.

With any luck, I said to myself, Blossom will not be charging admission at this hour. I thought this notion was somewhat witty, but my heart was in my mouth anyway.

As a rule, a murky flight of stairs is not comforting. But the darker and quieter, the better, I thought. When I pushed the door open, a strong smell of swamp water came from above. I slipped in and stood to one side of the moonlight. It picked up the girl's footprint, which was black and glistening wet. I tried not to concentrate on that, but the rest of the place was in shadow.