The Ghost of Tillie Jean Cassaway by Ellen Harvey Showell Read Free Book Online

backing away, a terrified look on her face.
    â€œWait!” shouted Willy. He jumped up and tried to stop her going out the door but she kicked at him. “Hey!” he yelled, “Stop it! I ain’t gonna hurt you! Ow!” She landed a kick on his shin. He stretched out his hands, palms toward her. She stopped kicking but remained crouched before him.
    Willy stayed back, feeling as though he had cornered a wild animal. Her long red hair was tangled, her dress dirty and torn, her feet bare. Willy’s eyes were drawn to a metal object hanging around her neck on a string. She clutched at it. Willy spoke again, softly, “I ain’t gonna hurt you. You scared me for a minute, grabbing my foot … I didn’t know what you was.”
    The girl seemed to begin to lose her fear. A curious look came into her eyes.
    â€œHey, look here,” said Willy, stooping. The kittens were crawling in every direction under their feet. Willy picked one up and began stroking it, sensing that it would help keep the girl calm. “Want to hold it?” he offered.
    She looked at the grinning boy and the squirming kitten. A shy smile crept over her face and Willy put the tiny, warm body into her hands.
    â€œIt ain’t scared of me,” she said. Her voice was low and husky.
    â€œNo, it ain’t,” said Willy.
    â€œI didn’t know anybody was here. I thought the kittens was under that thing, like they was before. I didn’t mean to.…”
    â€œThat’s all right,” said Willy.
    â€œI love kittens,” she said, petting each one in turn. “I petted them before.”
    â€œIt’s been you messing around this house, leaving the door open?”
    â€œI never made no mess. I had to go to my room.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, your room?”
    â€œThe little flower room. It’s mine. I’ve been playing there lots.”
    â€œSomebody was here when I was,” said Willy.
    â€œWarn’t nobody here when I was.”
    â€œNo?” said Willy, studying her. “Guess that’s your doll in there.”
    â€œIt’s Tillie Jean’s. Why’d you pitch it in the river?”
    â€œSo it was you that screamed!”
    â€œI hollered, cause you shouldn’t a done it!” said the husky voice.
    â€œHow’d you get it back?”
    â€œRobert, my dog, fetched it.”
    â€œOh, him,” said Willy. “Then you been playing with the doll in there.”
    â€œDid you bother my room?” asked the girl. She started toward the blue door. Willy followed.
    â€œIt’s my room,” she said, turning to him before entering. “You oughtn’t come in here.”
    Willy stayed at the doorway and watched as the skinny, raggedy child, her long, faded dress enveloping her bare feet, turned the doll’s head. “Just stay there and be good,” she whispered to it. “Stay there. I’ll watch out for you.” She came back out and shut the door.
    â€œWho’s Tillie Jean?” asked Willy.
    â€œA little girl. That’s her grave down there.” She turned and pointed through the window to the tiny, grassy mound out near the hill. “She died. Drowned in the river.” The two of them looked at the grave.
    â€œWere you here yesterday morning in the fog?” asked Willy.
    â€œYes. I was coming to my room … but somebody else was coming … I hid.”
    â€œMe!” said Willy. “I thought you was a ghost.”
    The girl’s eyes widened.
    Willy said, “It must have been you that was there at the top of that hill the other day. How’d you know my name?”
    â€œIt warn’t me.”
    â€œWhat about last night … that thudding noise in the … in your room. How’d you do that? I never saw nobody.”
    â€œIt warn’t me.”
    â€œWhen I found the kittens, were you there? Someone was laughing.”
    â€œNo,” she whispered.