Christina's Ghost by Betty Ren Wright Page A

Christina.”
    But Chris knew he was counting the minutes until he could drop her, and Jenny, too, at Grandma’s house. Her mother had said they were lucky Uncle Ralph had even consented to take them with him on his way north. He was an associate professor at City College, and every summer he went off somewhere by himself. This year a friend had asked him to house-sit at a northern Wisconsin lake. Chris’s mother said the human race was just too much for her brother Ralph. He liked his own company best.
    â€œChrissy bites her fingernails,” Jenny said. “I wish she wouldn’t. It makes me sick.”
    â€œAnd I wish I was an only child,” Chris snapped.
    Uncle Ralph switched on a classical music stationand turned up the volume. He looked straight ahead, as if he were pretending he was alone in the car.
    When they turned down the gravel lane that led to Grandma’s house, Chris looked around eagerly. There was the big gray house. The old sheepdog, Maggie, lay under the oak tree. There was the barn, its door open and inviting. There was the porch swing, and the red wagon planted full of white petunias. Everything looked exactly as it had a year ago when they’d come with their parents, and the year before that. Grandma never went racing off to Alaska to a stupid conference. Grandma
loved
the human race. Suddenly, Chris couldn’t wait to give her a hug.
    â€œThat’s not Grandma,” Jenny said. She pointed at the front door. The screen was partway open, and someone stood in the shadows. As the car turned into the yard, Aunt Grace, their mother’s older sister, came out and waited at the top step.
    â€œOh, give me strength,” Uncle Ralph muttered. “She has that look on her face.”
    â€œWhat look?” Jenny asked.
    â€œHer the-world-would-be-a-mess-if-I-didn’t-take-charge look,” Uncle Ralph said. “That woman was born to give orders.”
    They climbed out of the car, and Chris took a big breath of country air. Aunt Grace marched down thesteps, and Maggie the dog waddled toward them.
    â€œI thought you’d never get here,” Aunt Grace said, not bothering with hellos. “Whatever took you so long?”
    Uncle Ralph scowled. “Christina had to make a few roadside stops,” he said. “Where’s Ma?”
    â€œShe’s in the hospital, that’s where.” For just a second Aunt Grace’s thin face sagged. Then she sniffed hard and went on. “Got taken with a gallbladder attack at five-thirty this morning. The Blackwells took her to the clinic in Rochester. Mrs. Blackwell just called—Ma’s had her surgery, and she’s doing fine.”
    Uncle Ralph sat down on a porch step with a thump. “Poor Ma,” he said. “Why didn’t you go with her?”
    â€œNo need,” Aunt Grace retorted. “And she said to tell you not to go dashing over there till she feels better.” She rolled her eyes at Chris and Jenny. “We’ve got our problems right here.”
    Uncle Ralph narrowed his eyes. He looked at the girls as if he’d never seen them before. “What do you mean
we?”
he demanded. “You’re here. You can look after them till Ma gets back.”
    Aunt Grace gave an angry squeak. “I’m not
staying
here, Ralph Cummings,” she said. “I just drove out from town to tell you the news and close things up. The Blackwells will stop by every day to take care of Maggie. I have a house of my own to look after in Titusville. And three cats. No one can expect me totake over a family of children just because their parents want to go gallivanting off to Alaska.”
    Chris felt her face burn, but she was too scared to say anything. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jenny shrink back.
    â€œThen you can take the kids to town with you,” Uncle Ralph said, getting up from the step. “I’m on my way.”
    Aunt Grace moved between him