Being Dead by Vivian Vande Velde Read Free Book Online Page B

biggest, the loudest, the fastest: the best. And if he'd never thought to be the best husband, why, that was no reason he couldn't be the best widower.
    He went to Kelly's General Store and bought the most expensive suit for everyone to see him in and the most expensive dress to lay Marjorie out in. He bought the most expensive coffin from Gilbert Allen's casket shop, and he threw himself on the casket when the undertaker closed the lid, because Conrad Sharpe wanted to make sure everybody saw what a fine casket it was. He was careful, though, not to wrinkle his new suit.
    Conrad wailed and sobbed and carried on all die while die casket was lowered into the ground, so that everyone would know what a devoted husband he had been.
    Then he invited everyone back to the house afterward, for food and drink and to remember Marjorie, though he'd never been willing to pay for a party while Marjorie had been alive.
    "Oh, Marjorie, poor Marjorie," Conrad said to the neighbors. "Do you remember how she loved to dance?"
    The neighbors remembered. They remembered Marjorie dancing
before
she married Conrad.
    "There never seemed to be enough time for dancing," Conrad said, though the truth was he was too disagreeable to like music and dancing. "Oh, if only Marjorie could come back for even one night," Conrad cried out, "I swear I'd dance with her to her heart's content."
    A cold wind came howling then, where none had been before. Noisily it shook the boards of the Sharpes' house, and came in through the cracks by the windows, and down the chimney, and blew out the candle by Conrad's chair.
    And then went away.
    In the sudden stillness, Conrad realized everyone was looking at him. He rubbed at his eyes and repeated, "If only Marjorie could come back for even one night, I swear I'd dance with her to her heart's content."
    Way, way down the street, the neighbors' dogs started barking.
    Then, closer neighbors' dogs started barking.
    And closer.
    And closer.
    Till the next-door neighbor's dog was barking.
    Till there was a sound, like someone scratching at the Sharpes' front door.
    The neighbors all looked at one another, and at Conrad.
    To prove his courage, Conrad got out of his chair by the blown-out candle and walked to the door and opened it.
    There was nothing there....
    Except on the dusting of snow that had covered the front walk since everyone had come in, there were footprints, footprints that came from down the street, up the front walk, and ended at the door.
    With no one there.
    His hands shaking, Conrad closed the door. And bolted it And said, a third time—to prove that he was cold, not afraid—"If only Marjorie could come back for even one night, I swear I'd dance with her to her heart's content."
    The door flew open, bursting lock and wood alike.
    There stood Marjorie Sharpe in her fine new dress, though she had no shoes—since they wouldn't show in the casket, penny-pinching Conrad had buried her with bare feet Her hair was unbound and streamed out behind her, and though she was pale, she looked more beautiful than she had in years.
    With never a word, she held her arms out to her husband.
    And Conrad—to prove he was the bravest man there—asked, "Why, woman, would you come back from the grave to dance with me?"
    Silently, solemnly, Marjorie nodded, and Conrad stepped forward. He put his arms about her body, which was as cold and as hard as the autumn-turning-to-winter ground, and together—while the neighbors watched with eyes gone wide in terror—Marjorie and Conrad Sharpe danced.
    Around and around they went on Marjorie's well-swept floor, to music none of the neighbors could hear. Or maybe they danced to the howling of the neighbors' dogs.
    After an hour Conrad said, "You came back for one night, and we danced. Surely we've danced to your heart's content," and he made to step away.
    But Marjorie wouldn't let go, and Marjorie wouldn't stop dancing.
    One hour turned to two, and the dogs continued to howl and the Sharpes