Ghost Boy of Mackenzie House (14 page)

Chloe was so shocked she couldn't breathe. Marsh was
quivering beside her but she ignored him. Her heart
was beating so fast she thought it would fly out of her chest altogether.

Joseph had killed Joshua. She was right. And all over a…

“All over a stupid yo-yo.” He said what she was thinking, his voice full of bitterness. “My brother died July 14, 1941, seventy years ago to the day, because I thought he was a liar.”

Chloe had to breathe. When she did, it seemed to shatter something inside her. “How could you?” she
blurted. “He was your twin!”

Joseph was nodding, rocking back and forth in his recliner. “He was so much smarter than I was. Loved books and learning. All I wanted was to farm, like Poppa. Did most of his chores for him, too. Did he write that in his journal?”

Chloe shook her head, scowling, not wanting to admit her beloved Joshua had any faults.

Joseph nodded. “We fought like cats and dogs,” he said, a laugh in his voice. “But I loved him, make no mistake.” His laugh died away. “I hated him that day, though, I'll
admit it. My yo-yo… I had it one day and then it was
gone. He had admired it, gotten mad when I hadn't let him try it. I was so sure he had taken it. But when he insisted he hadn't and I saw him writing in that book of his all smug, I wanted to teach him a lesson.”

Joseph looked off into the distance, seeing not the room or the dust motes floating in the air or Chloe and Marsh, but the memory of what had happened seventy years ago.

“I lured him to the barn. We had just cut hay and I had helped Poppa stack it inside. There was a nice loose pile of it under the hatch. I loved to jump out of the loft into it. But Joshua… he was afraid of heights.” Joseph continued rocking and rocking, the soft swishing sound of it filling the room behind his voice while Chloe shuddered inside, remembering her own fear looking out over the emptiness of the barn's loft hatch. “I badgered him good, told him if he didn't take my yo-yo he would prove it. He would jump.” He shook his head, breaking out of the memory. “I went first, to show him. Then stood like a fool and taunted him from below. He was so scared, I could see it. But I didn't care. I wanted him to suffer for what he did. I saw him sway, take a step. Saw his foot slip.” Chloe's stomach clenched and she twitched a little, shoving herself back further in her chair as her mind carried her over the edge of the hole.

Joseph had stopped rocking, body rigid. “I knew before he went that it was bad. But I was down below, out of the way, and couldn't save him.” His eyes were full of tears again but he made no effort to use his handkerchief. “He fell and hit his head. I heard the crack of it, like a rock being snapped in half. I ran to him but it was too late. He was already gone.” Tears tracked down his cheeks. “And it was all my fault.”

Chloe's heart was so sore she was sure it was breaking. She believed him, not because he was so genuine, but because she knew how he felt. The hard knot inside her that had started when the police officer had come to the door grew tighter and tighter. Chloe felt like someone was standing on her chest. She couldn't catch her breath. A huge pain filled her up so completely that she wanted to die.

“It wasn't your fault,” she wailed. “It wasn't! It was an accident!”

And then, she started to sob. She sobbed and sobbed so hard that Marsh had to put his arm around her shoulder
and hold her to keep her from crumpling. She didn't
know how long she poured her heart out but when she was done, the knot was gone.

Joseph reached out and patted her knee. She met his eyes and they smiled at each other.

“Thank you,” he said, wiping tears from his own face.

“You're welcome,” she answered.

“And thank you for bringing these to me. The journal?”

“I'll bring it over,” she said.

“You keep it,” he told her. “But I'd like to see it sometime, if you don't mind.”

Chloe nodded.

Chloe and Marsh made a slow walk home after Joseph led them to the door, telling them they were welcome to visit any time. She wasn't sure what to say to her friend and was grateful he stayed quiet.

When they reached Larry's property, Chloe saw the hatchback in the driveway. Aunt Larry was home. Chloe turned to Marsh and hugged him. He hugged her back.

“Think he's gone now?” he whispered into her hair.

“I hope so,” she answered.

He exhaled with such heaviness his whole body rose and fell from it. “The rest of the summer is going to be a total bore,” he complained.

Chloe laughed.

“I almost forgot!” Marsh dug around inside his pocket
for a bit, face excited. “I have something for you.” He
fished out a shining length of silver and held it out to
her. Chloe cupped her bracelet in her hand, feeling it
slither into a ball in her palm as he let it go.

“Dad found it by accident. It was in the bottom of one of the buckets when he went to feed the cows. Lucky, huh?”

Chloe smiled at him, her heart so full she could have kissed him.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Thanks.” She slid the bracelet over her wrist and did up the clasp. It hugged her like it was happy to be back.

Marsh grinned at her and headed for home. Her last view of him before going inside was a glance over his shoulder and a wave. She waved back.

Chloe heard Aunt Larry in the kitchen and went right
to her. Before her aunt could say anything, however,
Chloe hugged her.

“I'm sorry,” she said, “for everything. I've just been so sad. If you have time, I'd like to talk about it.”

Chloe read the last line of Anne of Green Gables and closed the book, hugging it to her as she curled up inside her tent and stared at the photograph of her parents. She brought the crumpled picture to her lips and kissed them both.

“I love you,” she whispered, voice still hoarse from
crying with Aunt Larry. “I miss you so much. I always will. I felt bad about everything. I was so sure it was my fault. But I know it wasn't. It was an accident, a stupid accident.” She set the book down, fingers stroking over the cover. “I just want you to know, I'm going to be okay. I wish you were here, I'd do anything if you would just come back. But it's all right. I know you can't. And that's not your fault.”

She heard his sigh and felt him sit down beside her. Surprised he was still in the house, she pulled back the covers to see Joshua next to her on the bed. She was so sure he was gone. Had she missed something?

Then, she understood. Joshua wasn't there for himself. He was there for her. He was smiling. Chloe smiled back. With a gentle wave, he faded away.

“Thank you, Joshua,” she whispered. “For everything. I'll take good care of Joseph for you, I promise.”

Chloe got out of bed. She took the journal and tucked
the photo of her parents inside. She padded to her
vanity and opened the brown wooden box Aunt Larry had found for her. With love and careful gentleness, she placed the book, the pencil stub, her bracelet, and her mom and dad inside before closing the lid and going back to bed.

All books are an intense labour of love, and this one was no different.

I couldn't have done this without the support of my darling husband, Scott, who always says yes, no matter how hair-brained the scheme. Much thanks to my mother, Dianne, for loving everything I write and calling me on the parts she doesn't. My beautiful and talented sisters Cat and Caron, my biggest cheerleaders, you must know the feeling is mutual. To my wonderful friends and fellow
writers who make this career a joy: Valerie Bellamy, Renee Laprise, Kirstin Lund, Colleen McKie, Annetta
Ribken, Joseph Paul Haines, Helen Yee, Lori Whitwam, TG Ayer, Kim Koning and Kimberly Kinrade. Huge gratitude to Terrilee Bulger and Marianne Ward for turning Chloe's story into something we're all proud of.

And the biggest mention of all goes to my dad, who
couldn't stay to see my dream come true. Thank
you for the typewriter—and the confidence to do something with it.