she reached up and tucked a wiry strand back under the headband. “It runs in the family, but it skips a generation. That’s why Dad doesn’t have it.”
“You’re lucky,” said David. “It’s really something.”
Kelly found herself blushing. Never in her sixteen years had she thought herself ‘lucky’—more like being cursed—with her red, wiry hair. She sat down self-consciously as her father put out clean mugs. “It’s an awful nuisance,” she said. “But . . . but, thanks.”
“Poor Kelly’s been called ‘red’ and ‘carrot-top’ and all the other names people can dream up for redheads,” said her father. “She hates her hair, always has. When she read Anne of Green Gables, she ran around sighing for ‘auburn locks’. She even dyed it, the way Anne did in the book. Made her look as if she’d escaped from a circus. Her mother cut it off, really short, and when it grew back it had all that frizz to it.”
“Dad!” Kelly said sharply, annoyed at him talking about her as if she weren’t there. Then, to change the subject, she asked David, “Have you been here long? With the group at the farm, I mean?”
“Just a few weeks,” he answered.
“David’s been sick,” said his uncle. “Mononucleosis. He’s in first year university, or was. Had to take some time off when he got sick. His mother thought the Cariboo air would fix him up, so she sent him up here.”
“Hey!” said David, “Do we get to talk about you two now? Come on.” He and Kelly shared a grin. “Parents and uncles can be so tactful at times, can’t they?” he said, shaking his head.
“Anyway,” George went on, hesitant, not sure if he was on safe conversational ground, “anyway, he’s much better, and we’ve been keeping him busy.”
“That’s an understatement,” said David. “I’ll have to have a relapse to get any rest. But I’ve almost learned how to milk a cow. The cows can’t wait until I really get the hang of it.”
“He’s not doing badly—for a city boy,” laughed George. “Except he’s started seeing things in the barn. Guess the mono’s got to his brain.”
“Come on, Uncle George, I was only half awake this morning.”
“You saw something this morning?” asked Kelly. “What?”
“Well, I really wasn’t completely awake, and I was worried about the big cow that likes to kick, so I was distracted, but I could have sworn I saw a little girl in the corner of the barn. I thought at first that it was just one of the kids from our place, then I realized that she was much younger, only about two or three.”
Kelly and her father looked at each other in silence. Alan finally spoke. “What did she look like, David?”
“I didn’t see too well. The lights in the barn are kind of weak, and it was still dark outside, but she looked as if she was wearing a dress and boots, and she had lots of blonde hair.”
“What did she do?” Kelly asked, her voice strained. “Did she say anything?”
“No, she just stood there, didn’t make a sound. She had her hands out towards me, and I’ll swear she was going to cry. So I turned around, thinking that if she were going to cry maybe I shouldn’t stare at her, and when I looked again, she was gone.”
“Hallucinations, David,” said his uncle. “There aren’t any kids under six years old in Soda Creek.”
Kelly and her father exchanged looks again, and he shook his head slightly. Another person had seen the child who had visited Kelly, they were both sure of that. But why? As they stood there, silent, while David and his uncle looked puzzled, Kelly realized that there was only one explanation. The ghost was real, uncomfortably but undoubtedly real!
Alan seemed to forget that he had started a pot of coffee. He turned to George abruptly and said, “If we’re going to get that pump of yours thawed out and working by evening, we’d better get going.” He hurriedly left the room, heading to the basement to pick up his tool box.
George seemed bewildered by this sudden rush to get out of the house, but he picked up the patched denim jacket that he had slung over the back of his chair, and stood up.
David, however, didn’t seem at all inclined to leave. “Hey,” he said to Kelly, “What about that coffee your dad’s making?”
“I’ll get you some, if you want to stay for a while.” Kelly wanted him to stay, wanted to find out more about what he had seen in the barn that morning, but she didn’t want to talk about the ghost in front of George and her father. “Unless you have to help them with the pump.”
“I wouldn’t know which end of a pump the water comes out of,” David confessed. “They won’t let me help with that type of work.”
“Sure,” George said to David, “Sure. You stay here where it’s nice and warm and drink your coffee and think of your poor old uncle freezing his fingers off down in the well-house.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can, Kelly,” called Alan as he headed out the front door. “Perhaps you should show David that picture you drew last night?”
“Picture?” asked David. “You’re an artist?”
“Not really,” she said, “At least, not yet. I draw a bit, and I’m going to go to art school when I graduate, but I’m not nearly as good as my mother.”
“Where is your mother?” asked David. “I haven’t seen her yet.”
Something inside Kelly turned over and hurt. “She’s dead,” she answered. “For almost three years now.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I mean, Uncle George didn’t say anything. I’m sorry, Kelly.” He reached a hand out, as if he were going to touch her, then quickly drew it back. “I ... I guess I should head out now, maybe I can help with that pump or go talk to the cows or something.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” snapped Kelly. “There’s nothing wrong in you not knowing. Don’t worry about it.” She clenched her jaw, biting down hard on the hurt inside her, and poured David’s coffee. “Besides,” she went on, determined to change the subject, “besides, I think we should talk about what you saw this morning.”
“What I saw? Oh, the kid in the barn. Well, I guess she must be staying with someone around here and just wandered over. Maybe she wanted to see the cows. Maybe she wanted to watch me try to milk the cows. From the way everyone talks, that’s a very funny sight.”
“Your uncle was right, David,” said Kelly. “There isn’t a child under six closer than the reserve, a few miles down the road.”
“Who was it then?” asked David, now serious. “She wasn’t lost, was she? I didn’t mean to ignore her, but. . .”
“Maybe she is lost,” said Kelly, “but you couldn’t have helped her find her way home.”
“What do you mean?” David’s coffee sat untouched on the table. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t laugh, David, just answer me.
