sorry,â she said to the still air. âHonest. I⦠Iâve never seen a ghost before and itâs a little scary. Please come out.â
Nothing happened. No glowing boy, not even a flicker.
âI didnât mean to hurt your feelings,â Chloe went on. âI really want to help you. But I canât if you wonât come back.â
Still nothing. Chloe felt her fear fade away. She wasnât sure why, but she wasnât scared of him anymore. To prove it, she switched off her flashlight and stood there in the dark.
âItâs okay,â she said. âIâm not afraid. You looked so sad. Iâm sad, too.â She hugged herself. âI miss my mom and dad. Itâs okay sometimes, like when Iâm distracted or doing something new. But then I start to think about it, about them⦠I worry a lot.â She felt safe pouring out her heart to him more than anyone else she knew. âAre they okay where they are? Did they go to heaven like Grammy Sutton said? Do they miss me?â She sighed, the sound reminding her of the boy. âHow come youâre a ghost and they arenât? Iâd give anything to see my mom again. But not if she was sad.â Chloe looked out the window toward the garden. âI wish I could change it, go back and make it different. I bet you would, too, or you wouldnât be here.â
A soft light caught her attention. Chloe turned and saw the boy standing a few feet away from her. He looked like he was crying.
âI want to help you,â she said. âIâm sorry youâre sad. Was it horrible?â
He lifted his arm again, holding his hand out to her. Chloe took a step closer and reached out. When her fingers slid through the edge of him, she shivered. There was nothing there but a bit of a chill.
âDid someone hurt you?â she asked him, knowing he wouldnât answer, but hoping for more clues. âIs that why youâre sad?â
In answer, he turned and pointed to the staircase. Chloe followed his gesture and found herself standing on the top step.
âYou want me to leave?â She felt hurt. Maybe he didnât want her help after all.
He continued to point. Chloe tried to follow where he was pointing and realized he wasnât showing her the stairs, but the low wall above them. It was so low she almost had to duck every time she came up.
She pointed at it. âIs that what you want me to look at?â
The boy vanished. Chloe was startled and disoriented. His glow had given her some light. Curious, she switched on her flashlight and shone it on the overhang. It was plain wood, like the rest of the upstairs, rough in places with bits of old bark curling away. She examined it, leaning forward to touch it. She felt each board, one at a time, all the way to the corner. She struggled to reach and had to go down one step to do so. When she did, she felt the last board move under her hand. Excited, Chloe slid it aside. There was a hole behind it. She shone her flashlight in but was too short to see very far.
Trying to be brave, Chloe stuck her hand inside and met cobwebs. She pulled back with a little shriek before trying again. This time, she found something with the edges of her fingertips. She tugged at the hard, flat thing with the tips of her nails and felt it slide closer to her. After some coaxing, she was able to get it close enough to get her fingers around it and pull it out.
It was a book. Chloe held it up under her light. The cover was dusty and very worn, made of brown cloth, from what she could tell, cracked and bent at the edges. It was covered in a layer of dust and cobwebs. She blew on it to clear the clinging stuff away. Eager to have a look inside, she started down the stairs. She paused, though, and went back up long enough to whisper âthank youâ into the room before retreating back to her own.
She was much less careful on her return trip, but made it without waking