Revealing the Dead

  Cover

  Revealing the Dead

  Still undecided about a return to her teaching career, Abby Kimball has thrown herself into restoring the grand Victorian she shares with her boyfriend, Ned. She’s happy to put thoughts of her strange ability to see the dead on the back burner for a while, but she realizes that won’t be so easy when she’s faced with two new compelling encounters.

  First, a plumber she’s hired has a shocking experience with an old tool they find buried in the house’s walls, and then the interior life of an autistic boy streams through her mind as if he were speaking. Intrigued by the possibility that those who share her ability are more numerous and considerably more varied than she ever imagined, Abby’s forced to reconsider everything she thought she knew about her extraordinary gift.

  Inspired to learn more about autism and also the family history of her new plumber, Abby begins to dig deep on both topics and will discover a shocking connection that makes it clear that deeds from the past are reverberating still in the present . . .

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Beyond the Page Books

  are published by

  Beyond the Page Publishing

  www.beyondthepagepub.com

  Copyright © 2018 by Sheila Connolly

  Cover design and illustration by Dar Albert, Wicked Smart Designs

  ISBN: 978-1-946069-68-9

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this book. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of both the copyright holder and the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Books by Sheila Connolly

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Thursday

  Abigail Kimball sat in her idling car, waiting for Ellie Walker to emerge from her Littleton elementary school building. Halloween was a week past, and November had brought unusual cold and damp. Abby reached over and dialed up the heat. Hot chocolate sounded tempting; maybe Ellie could help her make some when they got back to Abby’s house, if Ellie didn’t have too much homework to do.

  Despite the fact that this once-a-week arrangement with Ellie’s mother, Leslie, had been operating fairly smoothly since September, Abby was still walking on eggshells with her. She had worked for Leslie at a local museum, until an unexpected series of events had made that impossible and she’d lost her job. Mostly it was because Abby had discovered that Ellie could see dead people—just as Abby could. But that was only part of the problem. Abby had known for some time that Ned—what the heck was he now? Fiancé? Lover? Live-in partner?—shared that ability, but nobody had mentioned it to Leslie until it became unavoidable. But Ellie’s ability made perfect sense because she was Ned’s biological daughter.

  In any event, the series of challenging discoveries had torn Abby and Leslie’s relationship to shreds, and Abby was working hard to put the pieces back together, mainly for Ellie’s sake. Seeing dead people was not something the average eight-year-old had to deal with, although Ellie seemed to be handling it well, and Abby wanted to keep the lines of communication with Leslie open so that Abby could guide Ellie as she learned to live with the unusual ability. The need to find someone to pick Ellie up at school while both her parents were at work had been an unexpected gift, and Abby enjoyed just chatting with a smart kid, which reminded her of the short time she’d spent as an elementary school teacher, her first choice of career before a lot of other things had gotten in the way.

  The doors of the school opened and kids poured out, moving quickly to ward off the cold. Ellie spotted Abby’s car and dashed over to it. Abby pushed open the door and Ellie jumped in, dumping her loaded backpack on the floor. “It’s cold out there!” Ellie said. “And then the furnace at school was acting funny—we all had to get our coats just to keep warm.”

  “Will it be fixed by tomorrow?” Abby asked as she pulled out carefully into the slow-moving line of pick-up parents.

  “I dunno,” Ellie said. “Nobody said. Think we won’t have to go to school?”

  “I can’t guess. But they’ll have to notify parents if it’s closed. So, other than freezing your buns off, how was your day?”

  “Boring. Like always. I hate math.”

  “I’m not too fond of it myself, but you’ll need it for some things.”

  “Yeah, I know. But isn’t that why they invented calculators? Heck, I can do most math stuff on my cell phone.”

  “Not in school, I hope,” Abby said firmly. “You’re supposed to be learning from teachers, not machines.”

  “Machines are faster. Or maybe I’m faster than most people. I hate waiting for the teacher to explain something over and over for the slower kids.”

  That was something Abby could understand, since she’d wrestled with the same problem when she was Ellie’s age. “Hang in there a little longer and you’ll have a chance at some advanced classes.”

  It took them only a few minutes to reach the Victorian home in Concord that Abby shared with Ned. Ned had bought it several years earlier, before he and Abby had even met, but he’d done little with it. Out of a job, Abby had volunteered to take on the restoration and redecoration of the place, and she was pleased with what she had accomplished in a short time. Not that it was anywhere near finished, but she knew that old houses never were. As she turned into the driveway, she said, “I was thinking hot cocoa sounded good. You up for that?”

  “Have you got marshmallows?” Ellie demanded.

  “Of course.”

  “Then let’s do it.” Abby had barely turned off the car when Ellie ran up the steps leading to the wraparound porch and stood impatiently by the front door. Abby followed and let them both in, then led the way to the kitchen at the back. As she assembled a pan, milk and cocoa she asked Ellie, “You have much homework?”

  “Nah, not really. Might take an hour. Need any help?”

  “I’m good. You can get the marshmallows out of the cupboard.”

  Ellie bounced o
ut of her chair at the kitchen table and searched for the marshmallows, which she found quickly and brought to the table. “Got ’em.”

  “And the cocoa’s ready. Which mug do you want to use?”

  “The big one!” Ellie said, grinning.

  Abby filled two mugs and sat down across the table from Ellie. “Anything else happening at school? I know you’ve got after-school activities on the days I don’t pick you up.”

  “We play soccer, sort of, but mostly that’s kicking the ball around the field, and it’s getting kind of cold now. And getting dark early.”

  Abby wasn’t about to ask if Ellie would like to spend another day a week at her house. She’d let Leslie negotiate that. She was startled when Ellie asked, “Can I ask you something?” She sounded serious.

  “Of course. What is it?”

  “There’s a new kid who was just added to my class today.”

  That didn’t sound surprising. “And?”

  “He’s . . .” Ellie seemed to be struggling to find the right word, which was unusual for her. “I know this sounds bad, but he’s kind of, well, different.”

  “In what way?” Abby asked.

  “Well, he doesn’t talk much, and he won’t look at you when he does, and he’s, well, kind of twitchy.”

  Based on what little Ellie had given her, Abby thought the child was probably autistic to some degree. She’d studied a bit about that when she was training to be an elementary school teacher, but she’d never had an autistic child in any of her classes, and she couldn’t recall meeting one. She did know that how much any individual child was affected varied widely and presented in different ways. “Boy or girl?”

  “Boy. His name’s Danny.”

  “Did the teacher say anything to the class about him?”

  “You mean, like he’s kinda odd? No, mostly she said he was new and we should be nice to him. He didn’t seem to care.”

  “Did he talk to the class at all?”

  Ellie shook her head. “Nope. He kind of ignored everybody, even the teacher. What’s his problem?”

  So Ellie had picked up that the kid was more than shy in front of a new class. “Sweetie, I don’t know enough to say for sure, but I’m going to guess he’s autistic. Do you know what that means?”

  “Artistic?”

  “No, autistic, with a u. It means it might be hard for him to communicate with other people—like you said, he might not look directly at them. Maybe he won’t speak to anyone, and he could have trouble getting along with the other people in the class. But this doesn’t mean he’s dumb—lots of autistic people are actually very smart, but they can’t communicate well.” Which made Abby wonder why he’d suddenly been placed in a mainstream class at an unfamiliar public school. It must be hard for him.

  Abby noticed that Ellie was avoiding her eyes, swirling her spoon aimlessly in what was left of her cocoa. “Was there something else that bothered you?”

  “Maybe.” She didn’t look up. “He waited behind in the classroom when the rest of us were leaving—maybe he was waiting for his mom or something. But I kind of bumped into him on my way out the door, and maybe I touched his arm or something . . .”

  Abby had a sinking feeling that she knew what was going to come next. “And?” she said gently.

  “I felt something like . . . you know. Like what we feel, only different. It was quick and I had to keep moving.”

  “Did Danny react to it?”

  Now Ellie looked toward her. “Yeah, he actually looked at me, and there was someone home in there. I know that sounds strange, but it was like he’d been hiding and I just caught a quick look at him. You think this means he’s like us?”

  Abby wasn’t sure what to say, and she wanted to proceed carefully. “It’s possible, but then, maybe you just startled him, which made him look.”

  Almost before she’d finished the sentence, Ellie was shaking her head. “No, it wasn’t like that. I know the difference. It’s like he’s inside there somewhere but he can’t get out.”

  A surprisingly apt way of looking at it, for a girl of Ellie’s age. “I believe you, Ellie, but what are we supposed to do about it? If you want, you could ask his teacher about him.”

  Ellie was shaking her head again. “Can’t you do it?”

  “Ellie, I’m not sure your teacher would talk to me, since I’m really just a friend, not a parent. And I wouldn’t want the teacher to think I had a problem with having an autistic boy in her class. Autistic people don’t usually cause problems, unless they get overwhelmed and lash out.”

  Abby stopped and thought for a minute or two, and Ellie didn’t interrupt her. Finally Abby said, “Look, I know a little bit about autism, and I believe you when you say you felt something when you happened to touch him. But I’m not sure what to do about it.”

  “But you say you’re always looking for more people like us!” Ellie protested.

  “Yes, but we have to do it carefully. I’m going to have to think this over. Maybe the boy has a pair of loving parents who think he’s ready to handle this school and it will help him. Or maybe he’s got only a single parent who has to work and who’s completely overwhelmed by having a difficult child and can’t find care for him. And I can’t just walk in and ask. Let me sniff around a bit, and you can keep me up to date as you learn more about him. Is that okay?”

  “I guess. Should I stay away from him, or try to get to know him?”

  Another question she couldn’t really answer. “Can you take it slowly? If you think he’d like a friend, even if it’s just someone to sit with at lunch, then go right ahead. But if it seems like the idea freaks him out, just take a step back for now. And I know this might be a lot to ask, but try to keep the other kids from teasing him just because he’s different.”

  “Yeah, I can do that.” Ellie realized that her cocoa mug was empty. “I guess I’d better get that homework done.” She reached down into her backpack, parked on the floor by her chair, and started pulling papers and notebooks out of it and spreading them across the table.

  Abby gave a silent sigh of relief. It was interesting that Ellie seemed to have made a connection with this boy, but she really couldn’t see how to proceed without blowing the lid off things, and she knew Leslie wasn’t going to be any help. She’d have to talk to Ned about it. And see how she felt in the morning.

  As predicted, Ellie finished her homework in short order, just as Abby heard Ned unlocking the front door. “Ellie?” he called out from the hallway. “Your dad’s waiting in the driveway.”

  Ellie grabbed up her papers and stuffed everything into the backpack again. “Bye, Abby. Thanks for talking with me about . . . you know. I’ll let you know what happens.” Without waiting for Abby to answer, Ellie darted out into the hallway and greeted Ned. Abby heard the door slamming, and then Ned walked into the kitchen and gave her an enthusiastic kiss. “Good afternoon with Ellie?”

  “Well, yes and no. You want a glass of wine?”

  “I’ll get it.” He pulled a bottle out of the refrigerator and held it up. “You want a glass?”

  “Please.” Once he’d filled two glasses and handed one to Abby, he sat down. “So what’s up?”

  “There’s a new boy in Ellie’s class, as of today, and based on what she told me, I think he’s autistic.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No, not if he’s not disruptive. But there’s more to it. You see, she happened to bump into him when she was leaving the room, and she felt . . . it.”

  “You mean, our it?”

  “Yes, that one. So now we’ve got a possible new can of worms.”

  “Wow, we sure do.”

  Chapter 2

  Friday

  Over breakfast in the kitchen the next morning, Abby said to Ned, “I woke up this morning thinking about what Ellie said yesterday.”

  Ned, across the table, had to take a moment to pull his attention away from the newspaper. “What was that?”

  “About the new
boy in her class, the one she was telling me about.”

  “Oh, right. What about him?”

  “A lot of things, I guess. Up front, I’m happy that Ellie didn’t make fun of him. I bet it’s all too common that children her age bully anybody who’s strange or different.”

  Ned sat back in his chair and focused on her. “I thought the schools were into sensitivity training, anti-bullying, and all that.”

  “I hate to admit it, but I really don’t know much about the local school systems. Not that I’ve had any reason to, until I started seeing Ellie regularly and she started talking about what goes on at her school. Does Leslie volunteer at the school, like for the PTA or anything?”

  “I doubt it—she’s pretty busy with work, and then dealing with the kids after she gets home.”

  “I’m sure she is, but how much does she know about her daughter’s environment? Sorry—I don’t mean to criticize her, and I know she works hard and takes good care of the kids. But school districts can vary a lot. And there must be regulations about bullying at the state level as well.”

  “Abby, where are you going with this?”

  “I’m not really sure. I’m just tossing ideas out. The new boy shows up a couple of months after the school year starts, and it’s clear he’s, well, different. But Ellie seemed to feel some sort of connection to him, and I’m not sure how to react to that.”

  “So you’re worried because this new kid seemed to respond to Ellie’s touch?”

  “In part. But that’s not the whole picture. Listen, do you have time to talk about this now? Are you supposed to be at work or somewhere?”

  “Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have time to listen to what’s bothering you,” he said, smiling.

  “I haven’t even finished thinking it through yet,” Abby told him, returning his smile. “I’m guessing he’s autistic, but it could be something else. I want to do some research of my own. But I do want to have a serious discussion about it with you.”