Mary Downing Hahn by Wait Till Helen Comes: A Ghost Story

Author:Wait Till Helen Comes: A Ghost Story
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781423381181
Publisher: Brilliance Audio
Published: 2009-02-20T06:00:00+00:00

9

AS MICHAEL AND I rode our bikes down the driveway, we saw Mom standing on the back porch, her hands on her hips. “Where have you been?” she said as we braked to a stop.

“At the library,” I said, wheeling my bike to its place under the porch.

“And then we saw Mr. Simmons.” Michael was too excited to notice that Mom was not smiling. “Guess what? He’s going to take me fishing the next time he comes to cut the grass.”

“But you were supposed to be here watching Heather.” Mom folded her arms tightly across her chest and frowned at me. “Didn’t we talk about that just the other day?”

“She was out in the carriage house with Dave when we left,” I said. “You were painting, and I know you don’t like being disturbed, so Michael and I just decided to go. I thought it would be all right.”

As Michael started to say something in my defense, he was interrupted by Dave. He stepped out on the porch to join Mom, and Heather was right behind him, peering around his legs, her pale eyes on Michael and me.

“Do you two have any idea what a scare you gave us?” Dave asked, his voice rising. “We couldn’t find any of you! We called and called. Finally I found Heather way down on the other side of the creek near that ruin you told your mother about. She said you took her there and then ran off and left her.”

I stared at him. “We didn’t take her anywhere!”

But he went right on talking. “Why do you treat her so badly? You’ve made her life miserable ever since we moved out here.” He was yelling now, and his face was red. “Heather’s just a little girl, a very sensitive little girl! Why can’t you treat her decently? What’s wrong with you two?”

As Dave continued to accuse us of tormenting Heather, the poor little victim peeked at us, smiling slyly. She was enjoying every minute of his tirade.

“Dave, please.” Mom laid her hand on his arm, trying to calm him down. “Don’t talk to Molly and Michael that way. There must be some misunderstanding.”

Dave turned from us to Mom. “That’s right, Jean! Take their side as usual!” Brushing Mom’s hand away, he led Heather down the steps, past Michael and me, and strode across the driveway toward the van.

“Where are you going?” Mom called after him, her voice quavering. “Dinner’s ready, Dave.” She started to follow him, but stopped, halfway down the steps.

“You all eat it. I’m taking my daughter out for dinner. She needs to get away for a while.” Without looking at us, Dave slammed the van door and gunned the motor. As he roared down the driveway, I saw Heather smile at us.

“I hate him!” I looked at Mom, but she had already turned away from me. I followed her up the steps. “We didn’t take Heather into the woods, Mom. She lied!”

Mom paused at the doorway and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

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