Reaching out, Andrew crooked his little finger with mine. "If I live, I'll find a way to let you know, Drew," he promised. "I owe you that much--and a whole lot more."
After a little silence, Andrew's face brightened. "You don't suppose you could stay, do you? Just think of the fun we'd have playing tricks on Edward and Mrs. Armiger." He laughed at his own thoughts. "Why, we'd make their heads spin, Drew. They wouldn't know one of us from the other."
For a moment, it seemed possible. My mother and father were away, they wouldn't miss me. As for Aunt Blythe--well, we'd think of some way to let her know I was all right. We were bouncing on the bed, singing "Yip-I-Addy-I-Ay," when the door opened and Mama appeared. It was Andrew she looked at, not me.
"Why are you still awake?" she asked. "I told you to go to sleep."
As Mama approached the bed, Andrew flung his arms around her. "You can see me, Mama," he cried. "Oh, thank the Lord! It's me, your own true son, back again for keeps."
She stared at him, perplexed. "What nonsense is this? Of course I can see you. Of course it's you. Who else would it be, you silly goose?"
I slid off the bed and ran to her side. "Me," I shouted, "it could be me."
When Mama didn't even blink, I tugged at her nightgown. "Look at me," I begged. "I'm here too, we both are. Andrew and me. Can't you see us both?" I hugged her, but all she did was shiver.
"No wonder this room is so drafty," she murmured. "The attic door is wide open."
Andrew and I stared at each other, his face reflecting my disappointment. He was visible, I was invisible. Like the design on his quilt, the pattern had reversed.
Sadly I released Mama. As I turned away, Andrew whispered, "We'll meet again, Drew. I swear it."
Mama looked at him. "What did you say?"
"Oh, nothing." Hiding his face from his mother, Andrew winked at me and said, "I was just talking to myself, Mama."
I took one long last look at Andrew. Much as I wanted to stay, it was time to leave. When Mama reached out to close the attic door, I slipped through it like a ghost. The door shut behind me. I was alone at the bottom of the dark stairs with nowhere to go but home.
After a little silence, Andrew's face brightened. "You don't suppose you could stay, do you? Just think of the fun we'd have playing tricks on Edward and Mrs. Armiger." He laughed at his own thoughts. "Why, we'd make their heads spin, Drew. They wouldn't know one of us from the other."
For a moment, it seemed possible. My mother and father were away, they wouldn't miss me. As for Aunt Blythe--well, we'd think of some way to let her know I was all right. We were bouncing on the bed, singing "Yip-I-Addy-I-Ay," when the door opened and Mama appeared. It was Andrew she looked at, not me.
"Why are you still awake?" she asked. "I told you to go to sleep."
As Mama approached the bed, Andrew flung his arms around her. "You can see me, Mama," he cried. "Oh, thank the Lord! It's me, your own true son, back again for keeps."
She stared at him, perplexed. "What nonsense is this? Of course I can see you. Of course it's you. Who else would it be, you silly goose?"
I slid off the bed and ran to her side. "Me," I shouted, "it could be me."
When Mama didn't even blink, I tugged at her nightgown. "Look at me," I begged. "I'm here too, we both are. Andrew and me. Can't you see us both?" I hugged her, but all she did was shiver.
"No wonder this room is so drafty," she murmured. "The attic door is wide open."
Andrew and I stared at each other, his face reflecting my disappointment. He was visible, I was invisible. Like the design on his quilt, the pattern had reversed.
Sadly I released Mama. As I turned away, Andrew whispered, "We'll meet again, Drew. I swear it."
Mama looked at him. "What did you say?"
"Oh, nothing." Hiding his face from his mother, Andrew winked at me and said, "I was just talking to myself, Mama."
I took one long last look at Andrew. Much as I wanted to stay, it was time to leave. When Mama reached out to close the attic door, I slipped through it like a ghost. The door shut behind me. I was alone at the bottom of the dark stairs with nowhere to go but home.
( Mary Downing Hahn )
[ Time for Andrew: A Ghost Story ]
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