You didn't marry?" Aunt Blythe asked Andrew.
He glanced at me. "When I was a boy no older than Drew, I had a close brush with death. It always seemed to me a miracle that I lived."
Once more Hannah made an attempt to stop her brother with a poke of her cane, but Andrew went on talking, his eyes on my face, his voice solemn. "I often thought I'd been meant to die, so I decided to lead a solitary life. There's no way of telling what one person might do to change the history of the world."
Before he could say anything else, Hannah patted Aunt Blythe's arm. "I brought along an old photo album. Would you please fetch it from the car?"
As soon as my aunt was out of sight, Hannah said, "If you don't hush, Andrew, we're going to leave the minute Blythe comes back. I swear I don't know what ails you. You might as well be twelve years old!"
She turned to me then and took my hand. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you, Drew? He was an absolute imp when he was your age and he still is. All that's changed is his outside."
I stared into Hannah's eyes, faded now to the color of shadows on winter snow. "He told you, didn't he?"
"In some ways, I think I knew all along." Hannah squeezed my hand. "I'm so glad we've lived long enough to see you again."
I flung my arms around her. She felt as thin-boned as a bird, and I was afraid to hug her too tightly. I didn't want to hurt her.
"It must be a shock to see us so old," Hannah said. "I'm afraid I couldn't climb a tree or shoot a marble if my life depended on it. Neither could Andrew, but I doubt he'll admit it."
"If I put my mind to it," Andrew said, "I could beat Drew with one hand tied behind my back. He was never any match for me."
Hannah raised her eyebrows. "It seems to me he outplayed you once."
"Pshaw. What's one game?
He glanced at me. "When I was a boy no older than Drew, I had a close brush with death. It always seemed to me a miracle that I lived."
Once more Hannah made an attempt to stop her brother with a poke of her cane, but Andrew went on talking, his eyes on my face, his voice solemn. "I often thought I'd been meant to die, so I decided to lead a solitary life. There's no way of telling what one person might do to change the history of the world."
Before he could say anything else, Hannah patted Aunt Blythe's arm. "I brought along an old photo album. Would you please fetch it from the car?"
As soon as my aunt was out of sight, Hannah said, "If you don't hush, Andrew, we're going to leave the minute Blythe comes back. I swear I don't know what ails you. You might as well be twelve years old!"
She turned to me then and took my hand. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you, Drew? He was an absolute imp when he was your age and he still is. All that's changed is his outside."
I stared into Hannah's eyes, faded now to the color of shadows on winter snow. "He told you, didn't he?"
"In some ways, I think I knew all along." Hannah squeezed my hand. "I'm so glad we've lived long enough to see you again."
I flung my arms around her. She felt as thin-boned as a bird, and I was afraid to hug her too tightly. I didn't want to hurt her.
"It must be a shock to see us so old," Hannah said. "I'm afraid I couldn't climb a tree or shoot a marble if my life depended on it. Neither could Andrew, but I doubt he'll admit it."
"If I put my mind to it," Andrew said, "I could beat Drew with one hand tied behind my back. He was never any match for me."
Hannah raised her eyebrows. "It seems to me he outplayed you once."
"Pshaw. What's one game?
( Mary Downing Hahn )
[ Time for Andrew: A Ghost Story ]
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