short, too. I haven’t really grown ‘up’ very much at all!”
“Well. . .” her father answered, beginning to smile. “The cooking. I seem to remember an angel-food cake that was only one inch high, and a very special chili when you used cayenne pepper instead of chili powder, and some biscuits that I broke a tooth on.”
“Come on, Dad,” said Kelly, beginning to smile herself. “It hasn’t been that bad. You know your tooth was cracked before you ate my biscuits, and my cooking’s been getting a lot better since Miss O.’s been helping me.”
At the mention of Clara Overton, both of their faces became serious again. “Kelly, I. . .” Alan’s voice was hesitant, “Kelly, I just ... I mean, I want you to know that Clara is a very unhappy person, and she needs someone to talk to once in a while, but there’s nothing ... I mean, I just feel sorry for her. I don’t really even like her very much, so you needn’t worry.”
It took Kelly a minute to understand what her father meant, but when she did she grinned at him. “It’s okay, Dad. I’m not jealous of her, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”
“Um, well, I just thought that maybe you were wondering about Clara and . . . and me.”
“I’m not wondering, Dad, but I do hope you don’t feel so sorry for her that you marry her!”
Her father stepped back, a strange look on his face. “Never,” he said firmly, then repeated himself, loudly. “Never!”
Kelly took a deep breath. “Dad? I guess that is what’s wrong with me, partly. I think maybe I am a bit jealous, not just of Miss O. but of all the Soda Creek people. I miss our Sunday mornings, Dad.”
“I know, Kelly. I’ve missed them, too.”
“And Dad, the reason I got so angry with Miss O. was. . .”
“Yes?” Her father looked down at her, puzzled.
“Well, because I . . . last night I saw. . .”
Her father waited patiently, but Kelly couldn’t go on. “Oh, it’s ridiculous really,” she said at last. “Here.”
Reaching into her desk drawer, she pulled out the watercolour of the little ghost. “I did this last night,” she said. “I saw her too.”
Her father took the picture and studied it, not saying a word. Finally he looked at Kelly and spoke. “It’s Clara’s ghost,” he said. “It’s just the way she described it, the high boots, the red dress, the ringlets.”
“But she wasn’t trying to frighten anyone, Dad. She wasn’t reaching out to grab Miss Overton. She was reaching for something, for someone, for . . . oh, I can’t explain it. She’s little and alone and very, very sad.”
Alan gently placed the picture on Kelly’s desk. “I don’t understand what’s going on here, Kelly. I could understand it if only one of you thought you saw this ghost. Clara is high-strung, and she is at the age when some women begin to get a bit peculiar.”
“Sure. That’s what I said, and you got angry at me for saying it.”
“Be sensible, Kelly. That’s not something you say to a person’s face! Clara is very sensitive about her age.”
“Sorry, Dad. I know I was rude. But why do you think that I saw the ghost, since I’m not at that ‘peculiar’ age?”
“Well, you were alone last night, up late, and your room is full of things from Soda Creek’s past and. . .”
He looked down at the picture again, his forehead wrinkling above his thick, greying eyebrows. Then he shook his head, as if to clear away unsettling thoughts.
“Come on, Kelly. Let’s forget about it for now. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. I’ll do the bacon, if you can find that package of pancake mix, and we’ll have breakfast together, just like we used to.”
“Sure, Dad. That sounds great. Just the two of us, right?”
“Right!” he answered, and then the doorbell rang.
Chapter 4
Kelly and her father looked at each other, and Kelly could feel the tears inching their way back into her eyes. “Well, there goes our breakfast together,” she said, trying to control her voice.
“No, we will have some time to ourselves today, Kelly,” said her father firmly. “I’ll see who it is and tell them we’re busy. Send them away.”
“Sure,” said Kelly, unable to make herself believe that her father would be able to do such a thing; trying to believe it, but already seeing their quiet hours together vanishing.
As her father went to the door, Kelly headed for the bathroom to wash her face. After the tears, her cheeks were flushed and her nose seemed almost as red as her hair. She splashed her face with cold water several times, and it seemed to help a bit. In just an hour her hair had curled its way out of the tight braids, and thick tendrils clung to her forehead and cheeks. She retied the ribbon firmly in a band around her forehead, then went out into the kitchen where she could hear her father talking to someone.
“I knew it,” she thought. “He hasn’t had the heart to get rid of whoever was at the door.”
At the kitchen table sat two people, obviously from the commune, although Kelly had not seen either one of them before. Her father, busy filling the coffeepot with cold water, turned as she came in, looking apologetic. “Kelly, this is George and his nephew David from the place down the road. Their pump is frozen and they need a hand getting it going again. Um ... do you mind if I just run down for a while and have a look?”
“It’s okay, Dad. Do what you have to do.”
“We’ll get that time to ourselves later, I promise. Maybe we can make something special for dinner, or how would you like to go into Williams Lake this evening, and we’ll have dinner out?”
“Sure, Dad.” Kelly smiled, not as upset as she thought she would be. Dinner out sounded good. At least she wouldn’t have any dishes to do afterwards.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset your plans.” George had spoken, and he looked uncomfortable. He had long hair, past his shoulder blades, tied back in a pony tail. He seemed a bit older than her father, late forties she guessed, and he had long, slender fingers that he tapped nervously on the kitchen table.
David was much younger, and even though he was sitting, Kelly could see that he was short, almost as short as she was. He was thin, too thin, and his dark eyes seemed almost too big for his face. His pale skin made the dark circles under his eyes seem drawn there, charcoaled in against the white skin. He looks very fragile, Kelly thought, surprising herself with that word, but then he smiled at her and his face lightened, softened and became almost handsome. “Hi,” he said, “where did you get that hair?”
Kelly was startled. People often commented on her hair, but usually they waited until they got to know her, didn’t come right out with a question like that the first time they met her. She could see her father watching her, waiting for her to reply, the coffee pot
