The Longings of Wayward Girls by Karen Brown Read Free Book Online

and talkative, and she and sadie spent hours lying on the white carpet playing backgammon. beth would go on at length about her brother, ray, and their plans to travel the world together—to charter a boat and sail the Galápagos Islands; to visit Mount Kelimutu in Indonesia, the volcano with different-colored crater lakes; the Guanajuato mummy museum in Mexico.
    “we have a map,” beth would say, as if sadie didn’t believe her. “want to see it?” And she would rummage in a drawer and pull out a much-folded map of the world, dotted with Magic Marker. sadie felt a little sorry for her, suspecting, even then, that nothing of her dreams would transpire. when asked about laura loomis, beth was uncharacteristically quiet.
    “she should have come to my house that day—I invited her,” beth said matter-of-factly. “she might still be here if she had.”
    sadie remembers those afternoons, the times that she would catch beth staring at her, an unreadable look on her face. “what?” sadie would ask. “what?” beth would say, as if she hadn’t been staring. These were the only times sadie’s likeness to laura made her uncomfortable. sadie and beth became half friends —what sadie called friendships that didn’t feel right but could not be denied.
    she puts her hand on the stone marker and feels the pitted surface, the soft moss growing on its face. emely Filley was one of beth’s ancestors, drowned in the pond on the old Filley Farm land, a ghost that the family claimed still haunted the old Filley house. sadie’s learned from the records that it was a common occurrence in those times. Drownings, accidents, spotted fever, consumption, derangement. These things were marked down by some deacon or clerk, brief details that anyone might question, and yet all that remains of the story of the dead person’s life.
    sadie sits down beside the stone. Harriet has brought a kind of picnic lunch, and she notices sadie sitting and asks her if she’s hungry.
    “let me get the basket from the car,” Harriet says.
    “oh, nothing for me,” sadie says. “I’m staking out a spot for myself.”
Harriet’s enthusiasm takes over. “you’re in the Filley section,” she says.
sadie glances around her at the stones of emely’s siblings, her parents.
“I knew a few Filleys once,” she says. she tries to laugh, but it comes out oddly, and Harriet’s smile dims. she remembers ray Filley at the Mobil station, the brush of his fingertips on her face. she hasn’t seen him since.
“you’re sure I can’t get the basket? I’ve got sandwiches— deviled ham and sweet relish.”
sadie has no appetite. Food isn’t on her list of necessities, but Harriet is the type for whom food is a cure for every ailment.
“I’m fine, thank you,” sadie says. “I’ll just sort out the Filleys.”
she pretends to take up her steno pad. she can’t move. neither the stone nor the church records tell emely Filley’s story, the one conveyed by beth that summer day, her eyes sharp with fear and mischief—that emely Filley lost her baby and her grief sent her to Mill Pond, compelled her to wade into the icy water. buried with her, though it isn’t marked on the stone, is the lost infant son. It surprises sadie, how many babies died, how many are without markers. still, despite beth’s story, she feels peaceful here in the little cemetery, hidden away from the road. she has a vague memory of the place from before, when she and her friends first discovered it, and they journeyed through the woods behind her house dressed in her mother’s long gowns, their arms filled with apple blossoms. They saw the children’s graves and pretended to be sad and grieving. really, they weren’t able to comprehend the loss of a child.
when lily was born, quiet and still, she was no more prepared. oh, why not Craig? she thought. why couldn’t it have been him? easier to explain to Max and sylvia, who waited at home for their sister. And yet there was