Ghostlight by Sonia Gensler Read Free Book Online Page A

handed him a sandwich and water bottle from my knapsack. “This is the secret grove. Cool, huh?”
    “Do you and your brother come here a lot?”
    “We used to.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “Not anymore?”
    “He’s changed,” I said flatly. “Actually, more like
mutated.
”
    “Into…?”
    “A jerk.”
    Julian twisted the cap off his water and took a swig. “I was an only child for a long time. I always wanted a brother. Then Lily came along.”
    I couldn’t read his face. “Did you love her or hate her?”
    “I didn’t feel anything at first. All babies do is cry and drool and stink. One time Dad made me change her dirty diaper, and I threw up.”
    “Gross!”
    “When she finally started using the potty, and when we could actually talk to each other, I liked her better.” He took the sandwich out of the baggie and sniffed it. “Is this ham and Swiss?”
    I nodded. “When is Lily coming?”
    “Very soon,” he said. “So what’d you think of that movie I told you to watch?”
    I swallowed a gulp of water. “Actually, I fell asleep. It started out kind of slow, and I was really tired.”
    “Can you watch it tonight? I promise the story picks up once they move into the house.”
    “It’s a lot easier when we watch during the day on your big screen.”
    “Fine,” he said. “But it’ll put us a day behind. Did you at least get the key?”
    “Not yet, but I
will.
”
    As soon as we’d put away the lunch stuff, I took him to Grandma and Grandpa’s plot. I’d never taken the time to find all the Hilliard graves before, but this seemed like the best place to start. It was a wide headstone inscribed with a verse from the book of John:
I AM THE RESURRECTION, AND THE LIFE; HE THAT BELIEVETH IN ME, THOUGH HE WERE DEAD, YET SHALL HE LIVE.
    “ ‘Samuel Hilliard,’ ” Julian read. “ ‘Born March 26, 1935, died August 7, 2002.’ ”
    “My grandpa.”
    “He wasn’t that old, was he?”
    “Heart disease. Grandma said he hated going to the doctor.” I swatted at a buzzing bee. “She still talks to him whenever we come by to tidy the grave. She likes to fill him in on the latest news.”
    Julian pointed at the headstone where Grandma’s name—Ava Louise—was already etched in along with her birth date. “Does everyone do that?” he asked. “Put their name on the stone before they’ve even died?”
    “A lot of them do. I mean, if you’re married, you go ahead and buy the plot for two people.” I shivered. “I wouldn’t want to see
my
name on a gravestone, though.”
    Julian traced Grandma’s birth year with his finger. “Can you imagine your grandmother visiting this grave and seeing a
death
 date chiseled on her side? And that’s when she realizes she’s a ghost? That would be a cool scene in a movie.” He pulled a small notebook and pen out of his pocket and scribbled.
    After that we wandered around the headstones, looking for more Hilliards. Near a knotty tree I found a collection of old headstones, thinner and lower to the ground than the newer ones. Julian stood at my side as I bent down to peer at the inscriptions.
    “This green mold makes it harder to read the words,” I said.
    “It’s lichen, actually.” He reached for his camera. “And it looks great on film, but I’m not sure how it will translate to black and white…”
    He was totally absorbed in taking close-up shots of the moldy lettering, so I studied the other Hilliard headstones. “Hey, this Ephraim guy was the one who settled Grandma’s land.” I stepped toward the neighboring headstone. “And this must be his son Josiah—the one who actually built Hilliard House. Grandma couldn’t remember his name the other day, but the dates look right.”
    Julian had already moved on to study the next row of headstones. “Who was it that outlived his family?” he asked. “You know, the last Hilliard to live in that house?”
    “Joshua. But he died in the eighties—he’s probably farther back in