The Girl Who Would Speak for the Dead by Paul Elwork

Author:Paul Elwork
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2011-02-08T00:00:00+00:00

Emily remained outside awhile, eventually getting up from the bench and walking along the path by the river. She considered places for the tiny grave: a copse of shaggy pines in the shadow of the mansion; behind the carriage house on the far end of the estate (a cavernous place, now that she thought of it); under the tea house. As she moved along the river away from the house, she caught the sounds of splashing and heard her brother laughing. He called out something and laughed harder, and though she could not tell what Michael said, she knew he was mocking someone, and that the someone was probably Albert Dunne. Emily chose her steps with care and came within earshot of Michael’s words.

“At night, Al! They come upriver at night. Whoever heard of ghosts in the daylight?” Michael laughed and splashed.

“I don’t see what daylight has to do with it,” Albert said.

“Come on, Albert! Is this what you’re made of?”

Emily stepped behind a tree several yards from where Albert Dunne stood, his back turned to her. Michael splashed in the river at the bottom of the steep bank, still out of Emily’s sight. “Al! For God’s sake, summer’s practically over! Are you going to dive into this river, or what?”

Albert looked down toward the water. Emily could imagine Albert’s face at that moment.

Michael’s joyous voice rang up the bank. “Albert, you are the biggest coward I have ever known—how can you stand yourself? You are disgusting! Emily’s twice the man you are!”

She burst into the clearing.

Albert snapped his head around, almost tumbling down the riverbank. He looked at Emily with hurt surprise, as if her presence made her partly responsible.

Emily stormed the bank and glared down at her brother. Michael paddled in a circle through the slow current. His clothes lay on the shore in a careless pile. He looked up at her with surprise for an instant, then grinned. “Hello, Em. Care for a swim?”

Albert stepped aside and slipped away, hurrying into the wooded shadows.

“Shut up, Michael,” she said.

“Come on, Em, I’m just teasing. He is a coward, though—you know that—”

“Do you have to be so mean, Michael? Is it necessary to be so mean?”

“Settle down,” Michael said. “Where’s Albert?” he called to her, beginning to move away again in a lazy backstroke.

“He’s gone. I guess the fun’s over.”

“He’s afraid of ghosts in the river, Em. The ones who come up to the tea house.”

“The ones you told him come up the river to the tea house?”

“The ones we told him about,” Michael said good-naturedly. “I think he’s afraid of the water, myself. Who’s afraid of ghosts in the daytime?”

“It doesn’t matter, Michael,” Emily said in a hollow voice.

“He’ll be all right. So, Em: Are you going to take a swim, or not?”

She looked at him a moment before turning toward the house.

“Don’t leave me here!” Michael called after her. The sounds of him splashing in the river followed her back onto the cobblestone drive. “A drowned ghost—is

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