Revealing the Dead Page 8

  She arrived at the school early enough to snag one of the last parking spaces in the front. Most of the spaces were given over to the big orange busses. The kids hadn’t been let out yet, but as soon as she had turned off her engine she heard a bell, and the front doors opened and spewed kids eager to get out and let off steam. Ellie usually dawdled a bit, and today was no exception, so Abby contented herself with watching the children. Although most were no older than eight or nine, they looked more sophisticated and self-possessed than she had in high school. Why did kids have to grow up so quickly? She was pleased that Ellie had wanted to go trick-or-treating, but how much longer would that last?

  There were two adult teachers, both women, supervising the exit, mainly funneling children to their assigned busses. One child dropped her backpack just as she reached the bus steps, and one of the teachers hurried over to help her gather her papers and other belongings before they blew away or got trampled. The other teacher seemed to be on the receiving end of a phone call—she fished her cell phone out of her pocket, turned away from the crowd, and walked to a quieter corner to talk.

  Abby spied Ellie coming out of the building, but she wasn’t alone. With her was a boy of about her age, and Ellie was talking to him. Based on his body language, Abby figured this had to be her new friend Danny and Abby quickly decided she’d been right that he fell somewhere on the autism spectrum. He wasn’t looking at Ellie, but it was clear that he was paying attention to what she was saying. His lack of attention didn’t seem to bother Ellie, who kept on chatting.

  The two teachers were still occupied when Abby saw trouble coming. A group of girls, maybe four or five of them, had clustered together on the scraggly lawn, and they were giggling together—and casting glances toward Ellie—or Danny? Abby couldn’t hear what they were saying, with her car windows closed, but their intentions were clear. As a pack they sauntered over to where Ellie and Danny were descending the steps. One girl—the leader?—made some sort of comment, and the other girls around her giggled again and nudged each other. Ellie ignored them, and Danny seemed oblivious to them.

  When Ellie and Danny reached the bottom of the stairs, the girl-pack moved toward the sidewalk to block them. Ellie stopped before she reached them, and Abby could imagine what she was saying. What do you want?

  Who’s your friend? the alpha female would reply.

  This is Danny. He’s new.

  He’s weird. Is he retarded?

  Luckily Danny wasn’t responding to any of the taunts, Abby noted, but Ellie seemed set on defending her friend. The group moved closer, until they were in touching distance of Ellie and Danny. Abby scanned the school yard quickly: both teachers were still distracted and hadn’t noticed the brewing confrontation. She climbed out of her car and came around to the passenger side. “Ellie?” she called out.

  Ellie heard her and turned to look, but that gave the other girls the chance to give Danny a shove, and while he didn’t fall, he dropped his pack, and the girls gathered closer. Enough! Abby thought, and marched over toward the steps. “Hi, Ellie,” she said when she was in earshot. “This must be Danny.” When Ellie nodded, keeping an eye on the other girls, Abby added, “Nice to meet you, Danny.” She itched to shake hands with him or touch him somehow, but she knew that would only give the group of girls something more to laugh about, and probably get her in trouble with the teachers—who had finally noticed something out of the ordinary was going on, and were now converging.

  “What’s the problem?” the older one asked. “And who are you?”

  “I’m Abigail Kimball. I pick up Ellie one afternoon a week. I’m a friend of her mother’s”—although “friend” might be stretching the truth—“and she’s given her permission. You should have that in your files.”

  The older teacher looked relieved, although the younger one was still confused. Abby pressed on, “Ellie told me she’d met a new student in her class. I assume that’s Danny?”

  “Yes, he’s just joined us,” Teacher Number One said, cautiously.

  “Does he take the bus, or does someone pick him up?”

  The younger teacher finally caught the drift. She turned to the rest of the group. “Girls, aren’t you going to be late for . . . something?”

  The pack as one gave her a contemptuous stare, then drifted away, clearly in no hurry.

  Teacher Number One gave Teacher Number Two an approving nod, then turned back to Abby. “Yes, Danny’s mother usually picks him up, but she must have been delayed. Oh, wait, here she is now.”

  Abby looked toward the street to see a woman who had parked askew at the curb and was hurrying toward them. “Sorry, sorry, there was some sort of tie-up on 2A.” As she approached, she seemed to realize that there was something out of the ordinary happening. “Is something wrong?” she asked, her gaze moving between the teachers and Abby.

  “No, not at all, Mrs. Allen. And you’re not particularly late—the busses have just pulled out. We were keeping Danny and Ellie company while they waited.”

  Abby stepped forward. “I’m Abigail Kimball. I pick up Ellie one day a week. Ellie mentioned that your son was new here?”

  The look Danny’s mother gave her was not exactly warm and trusting, and Abby wondered what kind of problems she’d encountered at other schools or day-care groups. “Samantha Allen. Yeah, we just moved here this month.” She didn’t offer her hand.

  “How’re you settling in?” What Abby really wanted to ask was how Danny was fitting in, but that didn’t seem appropriate, especially with someone she’d just met. Too many questions had multiple meanings when you were dealing with kids with problems.

  “It’s okay. I’m still trying to work out the commute.”

  “It can be rough around here,” Abby said. She looked at the gathered group. “Well, I’d better get moving with Ellie. I want her to help me pick out wallpaper.”

  This was news to Ellie, who gave her an odd look but didn’t say anything. She turned to Danny, who hadn’t said anything at all yet. “Hey, Danny, see you tomorrow.”

  Samantha knelt down by her son. “Danny, what do we say when we meet new people?”

  He looked at his mother, then took a step forward and held out his hand to Abby. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Kimball.”

  So there was her opportunity. “Nice to meet you too, Danny.” She took his hand, and suddenly her mind was filled with a jumble of images—brightly colored, moving. Psychedelic, her mother might have called it, Abby thought irreverently. Still, despite the chaos, she had the feeling the Danny was watching her to gauge her reaction.

  Abby withdrew her hand gently. “I hope we’ll be seeing more of you, Danny. Come on, Ellie, let’s go.” To the teachers she added, “Thanks for looking out for them.”

  She led Ellie to the car, and they got in, but Abby didn’t start the engine immediately. She wanted a moment to sort out what had just happened.

  “You felt it too,” Ellie said bluntly.

  Was she that obvious? “Yes, I did. There’s a lot going on in his head. What was with those other girls? Do you know them?”

  “Nuh-uh, they’re a year ahead of me. They hang out together.”

  Abby was trying to figure out how to ask her next question, but Ellie beat her to it. “They like to pick on Danny because he’s different. And he doesn’t fight back—at least, not yet. I don’t now how much he can take, but I hope he knows better than to hit somebody.”

  “I was glad to see you both try to stay out of it. You were definitely outnumbered.”

  “They’re stupid. but it wouldn’t help to tell them. I just wanted to keep Danny out of trouble.”

  “Does he talk to you?”

  Ellie gave Abby a sly glance. “You mean, with words?”

  Oh, dear, Abby thought. “Are you saying that you can hear each other’s thoughts?”

  Ellie looked straight ahead out the window. “Sometimes. Kind of. But he does know how to talk, too.”

  “He must, if he’s mainst
reamed. He doesn’t have somebody who looks after him at school, does he?”

  “Nope, his mom picks him up and takes him home. He’s not stupid. He just doesn’t talk much.”

  So many things she wanted—needed—to follow up on, but Ellie was still a child, no matter how wise she appeared, and how grounded. She hadn’t gotten any vibes from Danny’s mother: Abby’s first impression is that she was overworked and stretched thin. Was Danny’s father in the picture? Was there anyone else at home to help her? Could she afford special classes, or even a special school?

  Or should she just stay out of the whole mess? No, Abby decided, because Ellie was already in the middle of things, and Ellie would be hurt and think less of her if she walked away. Therefore she had to do something. But what?

  Finally she started the car. “Let’s get back to the house so you can do your homework.”

  Ellie stayed silent until they reached the Lexington house, and even after they were inside at the kitchen table. Finally she said, “Abby, what’s going to happen to Danny?”

  Abby faced her squarely. “Ellie, I wish I knew. We’ve talked about this before: there are all kinds of autism or Asperger’s syndrome. Many people who have it get along fine—they hold down jobs, they even write books. It’s not about their intelligence, it’s about how they interface with the rest of the world. Danny seemed to handle himself reasonably well today—he didn’t get angry, he didn’t lash out. He kept it together, and that’s good. Can he be ‘cured’?” Abby made air quotes. “I don’t think so—at least, not at the moment. There’s no magic pill or shock therapy or anything like that. He can learn to control his actions to a degree, so that he can live in the real world, with other people. You aren’t going to give up on him, are you?”

  Ellie shook her head. “I know what’s inside his head, not what he shows. He’s a good kid. Maybe I can help him get along in school.”

  “By using our gift?” Abby said, smiling.

  “Kinda. But it wouldn’t help if we sat at school and carried on conversations in our heads. People would think we were crazy.”

  “So they would. Just take it slow, okay? I wish I knew what the teachers are thinking, but I can’t exactly ask. For either of your sakes.”

  “Let’s just see how it goes. So what’s this about wallpaper?”

  “Oh, I’ve started a new house project, since your room turned out so well. Let me tell you about it.”

  Chapter 11

  Thursday

  Of course the discussion of wallpaper and other decorating options somehow led to the plan to move the plumbing fixtures around, which inevitably led to a discussion of the Maguire family. Abby debated about saying nothing about them to Ellie for the moment, but they were going to come up sometime, and she didn’t want to look like she was hiding something from her.

  They were standing in the laundry area, trying to figure out how to shoehorn a whole new room—a very small powder room—into the available space, when Abby took a deep breath and said, “I think I’ve found some more people. Like us, I mean.”

  “More than just Danny? Who?” Ellie said eagerly.

  “The plumbers who are going to give me an estimate for the new powder room.”

  Ellie looked skeptical. “And how the heck did you get from talking about pipes to talking about psychics?”

  “I didn’t exactly plan it. And it’s not like I ask any random stranger who comes to the house whether they see dead people. This was kind of an accident, but it turns out there’s an interesting story behind it all. You have much homework?”

  “Nope. I did most of it in study hall. So what’s up with the plumbers?” Ellie wouldn’t be diverted.

  “We were tearing apart the old powder room under the stairs to see if it could be saved, and we found a wrench somebody left behind the wall.”

  “So?”

  “It turned out that it once belonged to the plumber’s grandfather, years ago. And when he picked it up, he got a physical shock. I was watching when it happened, and it was real.” Abby checked her watch to see how much time they had before one or the other of her parents picked Ellie up. “Come on back to the kitchen. I’ll make some cocoa and we can talk.”

  “Great.” Ellie skipped ahead of her across the hall.

  When the cocoa was ready, they sat down and Abby outlined what had happened, from the arrival of Jack Maguire, to his quick retreat, through the appearance of his son Bill the next day and Bill’s reaction to the wrench, with a little help from Abby, to the return of the two of them together, and the whole sad story of Jack’s aunt Mary.

  When Abby was done, Ellie said, “That is so cool! I mean, not because of what happened to Aunt Mary, but that it happened here, and they’re all connected somehow, like us. And that the wrench was just sitting here all those years, waiting. Did anything happen when you touched it?”

  “No. To me it just felt like a wrench.”

  “Were the guys scared?”

  “Yes and no. Neither one of them was expecting anything like what happened, and I think Bill suspected that his father was making it all up, until he felt it too. But when they started talking, they realized it went back to Jack’s grandfather, and that the old man wasn’t crazy after all, like all the family thought.”

  “The grandfather saw things and felt things, like us? And the other two, too?”

  Abby nodded. “And like Danny. But different. You know, about Danny—I got more pictures than words when Danny and I shook hands. I suppose that makes sense, since most often I ‘see’ the people I’m related to—although I’m not about to say that Danny is related to my family. Maybe he just doesn’t have the filters that most people put up, so I can’t see what they’re thinking, but I can get at least parts of it with Danny. Anyway, I react visually. But other people may react differently. There’s so much we don’t know! It’s frustrating.”

  “Yeah, kinda like algebra?” Ellie said, grinning.

  “What on earth do you mean?” Abby replied, returning her smile.

  “Well, you know algebra makes sense—at least, that’s what the teachers keep telling us—but you look at it on a page and it looks like spaghetti, with all these things that don’t fit together or look like somebody just made them up. Unless you ‘get’ it. I mean, some people are better at math than others, right?”

  Abby was reminded again that Ellie was a smart kid. “You know, that’s an interesting way of looking at it,” Abby said slowly, “but it works. And I agree—some people have it, some don’t. Maybe math lives in a particular part of the brain, but not the same part as this thing of ours, I’m guessing, because I’m not good at math. Speaking of which, are you trying to avoid doing your math homework?”

  “Maybe.” Ellie grinned again, then started digging papers out of her backpack.

  Ned arrived home before either of Ellie’s parents showed up. Was she imagining things, Abby wondered, or was Ned gradually reducing his hours at work? Of course, since he owned the company, with a few strategic shareholders, he could work as much or as little as he wanted. But he had promised her that he would taper off so he could work with her on the whole psychic connection thing.

  He greeted Abby with a chaste kiss and laid a quick hand on Ellie’s shoulder, careful not to touch her directly, skin to skin. “How’s everything going?”

  “Okay,” Ellie told him. “Except Abby had to sort of break up a fight at school today.”

  “Oh, really?” Ned said, looking at Abby.

  She mouthed “later” back, and he nodded.

  “Hey, guys,” Ellie said, “can we talk about giving this thing of ours a name, one that we can use all the time? I mean, calling it the Thing is kind of dumb.”

  “Yes, it is, Ellie,” Abby said, “but so many of the names that have been used for psychic phenomena have negative associations—you know, people think they’re either fakes and swindlers or they think they’re just crazy. The names they use show that most people are making fun of it, I think.�
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  “But we have to call it something!” Ellie protested.

  “Hang on a sec,” Abby said, and hurried to the dining room, where she’d left her laptop. “Let’s be systematic about this and see what synonyms we come up with. You know what a synonym is, right, Ellie?”

  “Yes—it’s a different word that means the same thing.”

  “Exactly.” Abby called up her search engine. After a couple of minutes she said, “Oh, my, most of these are a mouthful.”

  “Like?” Ellie asked.

  “Let’s see.” Abby read from the screen, “ESP, of course. Clairvoyance, intuition, intuitionism, intuitivism, precognition, presentiment, second sight, sixth sense, telepathy.”

  “I see what you mean,” Ned said, smiling. “How’s your intuitionism doing today?”

  “It’s asleep, I think. Here’s another site with more. Under similar words, they include abnormality, charisma and charm.”

  “I kinda like second sight,” Ellie said.

  “Well, it’s easy to say,” Abby replied, “but I don’t think it’s quite accurate. We’re not predicting the future, or even seeing things as they happen—we only see the past, and people from the past.”

  “Well, second sight could work,” Ellie said stubbornly. “I mean, we’re seeing them again, for a second time.”