The Ghosts of Varner Creek by Michael Weems

Author:Michael Weems [Weems, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780982644164
Google: ax-UcAAACAAJ
Publisher: Lightning Source Inc
Published: 2010-07-30T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

It was nearly impossible falling asleep that next night. George kept the blankets so tight I couldn’t move, and I could feel him searching the room in the dark, his head jerking with every little creak the house made. I wasn't much better. I thought something might happen at any second, but the hours ticked by uneventfully and somewhere along the way he and I both fell asleep. The following day was Sunday and that meant church. True to their word, Francine and Amber set out in the whispers only young girls can master to spread the rumors of George and mine's fictional bedwetting problem to all the other kids. By the time Reverend Monroe finished his sermon and church was let out, it seemed like everyone our age was pointing and laughing. Francine and Amber were as proud as they could be.

We didn't go immediately home. Aunt Emma and Miss Thomas stood off by themselves in discussion. George and I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I knew Miss Thomas had grave concerns regarding my mother's sudden departure with Sarah, especially when she learned that I hadn't been taken along. And by the look on her face now, her and Aunt Emma were talking about what I had told Aunt Emma the day before. They talked for a few more minutes before Uncle Colby went to retrieve Aunt Emma. It was dinner time and he was hungry, which was one of the few things that could make him impatient with her. The three of them walked back towards us and I heard Miss Thomas say, "I'm going to talk with him today, Emma, and I'll let you know how things go." They said their goodbyes and we headed home.

I didn't know at the time who "he" was, but I'd put enough together later to figure Aunt Emma and Miss Thomas had been talking about the sheriff. The next day Miss Thomas went and had a visit with Sheriff Covell. She baked him up a nice apple pie first to bring to him so he'd be a little more easy to sit down and have a good talk with. "Sheriff, I think maybe there's something fishy going on here with Sarah Mayfield's suddenly being gone."

Sheriff Covell was an ample man in his fifties who looked like he could easily be bribed by a mass murderer to look the other way with an apple pie like the one Miss Thomas had brought him. "I know, Hetta." That was Miss Thomas' first name, though I had never heard anyone call her by it. "But there ain't no signs of foul-play over there. I've been out and visited Abram Mayfield and everything he's sayin' seems to check out fine."

"Well, Sheriff, I think he'd hope everything he says sounds fine, but that doesn't mean it is. I don't think I need to tell you what kind of a man Abram Mayfield is."

"Miss Thomas," he was back to being formal again, "I know

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