sitting at the desk. His jacket was there, hanging from the back of the chair. He wouldn’t have needed it that night, as the summer had been warm. Silas took the jacket off the chair and held it up. He brought it to his nose and smelled it. He put it on, slowly, first one arm and then the other. It was worn and comfortable and it smelled like his dad. Book mold and wood grain and something of the sea.
One side of the jacket hung a little lower than the other, and when he looked in the pocket, Silas found his dad’s pocket watch. He had seen the watch only a few times before; his dad never took it out in public. It was silver, fashioned in the shape of a skull, veryrealistic, with great attention to detail. The suture lines on the top of the skull were so carefully engraved. Despite its small size, it felt heavy in the hand. The lower jaw could be unlatched and when open, the watch mechanism, face, and dial—built into the upper part of the skull—could be read. Silas remembered his dad showing it to him the night of his grandfather’s funeral.
Silas had not thought about his grandfather for some time, but now, clear as a picture on a screen, he could see him in his memory, just as he did on the day of the funeral. That day was the first and only memory Silas had of his grandfather, although surely they’d seen each other when Silas was an infant, before his mother and father moved from Lichport. At the funeral, Silas had to stand on his toes to look over the edge of the coffin and see his grandfather. Eyes closed. Skin looking like a doll’s, painted and still.
A moment later, returning to his seat with his father, Silas saw his grandfather again.
Silas wasn’t sure if that was the first time he saw a real ghost, but it was the earliest and best memory he had. Maybe it had only seemed true because his father had believed him. Maybe, looking back, it was just that Silas had always believed in ghosts, as long as he could remember, even before his father had told him they were real and his mother made his father start sleeping on the couch. Silas had looked up again from his chair and was staring at the coffin when his grandfather stepped into the air from somewhere behind the open lid.
Silas glanced down, then quickly back up, and the figure was growing clearer with each breath he took. It stood very still, and the space around it seemed blurred, as if the air was a pane of smudged glass. The ghost looked right at Silas and smiled. Then it put its forefinger to its lips and mouthed the words,
Don’t tell
.
When the funeral service was over, he told his mom about the ghost, and she slapped him. Right there in front of everyone in the church, and without even a moment’s hesitation. Silas’s eyes welled up, but he didn’t start crying until they were outside in the car. It was his only trip to Lichport, and he hardly saw any of it, because his mother wanted to pay her respects only briefly at the Umber home and then return to Saltsbridge as quickly as possible.
On Temple Street, at the wake, Silas was dragged swiftly out of the car by his mother and into the family house, then dragged back out and into the car barely five minutes later. His mother claimed that she wasn’t up to visiting, for she wasn’t feeling well enough. The truth was she wasn’t sick, just angry. Angry at being back in Lichport. Angry that Amos was to receive nothing from the estate. When she demanded to know why, Amos refused to speak about why his father had left everything to his brother Charles, including the house and the rest of the family money, except to say, “Dolores, believe me, you’re not the first person I’ve disappointed.” Amos drove quietly while Dolores went on and on about it during the entire car ride home, as if complaining and yelling would somehow change the dead man’s will.
“You’re just going to let him stay in that house and not pay you some portion of what it’s worth? Is that it? You’re done? And
One side of the jacket hung a little lower than the other, and when he looked in the pocket, Silas found his dad’s pocket watch. He had seen the watch only a few times before; his dad never took it out in public. It was silver, fashioned in the shape of a skull, veryrealistic, with great attention to detail. The suture lines on the top of the skull were so carefully engraved. Despite its small size, it felt heavy in the hand. The lower jaw could be unlatched and when open, the watch mechanism, face, and dial—built into the upper part of the skull—could be read. Silas remembered his dad showing it to him the night of his grandfather’s funeral.
Silas had not thought about his grandfather for some time, but now, clear as a picture on a screen, he could see him in his memory, just as he did on the day of the funeral. That day was the first and only memory Silas had of his grandfather, although surely they’d seen each other when Silas was an infant, before his mother and father moved from Lichport. At the funeral, Silas had to stand on his toes to look over the edge of the coffin and see his grandfather. Eyes closed. Skin looking like a doll’s, painted and still.
A moment later, returning to his seat with his father, Silas saw his grandfather again.
Silas wasn’t sure if that was the first time he saw a real ghost, but it was the earliest and best memory he had. Maybe it had only seemed true because his father had believed him. Maybe, looking back, it was just that Silas had always believed in ghosts, as long as he could remember, even before his father had told him they were real and his mother made his father start sleeping on the couch. Silas had looked up again from his chair and was staring at the coffin when his grandfather stepped into the air from somewhere behind the open lid.
Silas glanced down, then quickly back up, and the figure was growing clearer with each breath he took. It stood very still, and the space around it seemed blurred, as if the air was a pane of smudged glass. The ghost looked right at Silas and smiled. Then it put its forefinger to its lips and mouthed the words,
Don’t tell
.
When the funeral service was over, he told his mom about the ghost, and she slapped him. Right there in front of everyone in the church, and without even a moment’s hesitation. Silas’s eyes welled up, but he didn’t start crying until they were outside in the car. It was his only trip to Lichport, and he hardly saw any of it, because his mother wanted to pay her respects only briefly at the Umber home and then return to Saltsbridge as quickly as possible.
On Temple Street, at the wake, Silas was dragged swiftly out of the car by his mother and into the family house, then dragged back out and into the car barely five minutes later. His mother claimed that she wasn’t up to visiting, for she wasn’t feeling well enough. The truth was she wasn’t sick, just angry. Angry at being back in Lichport. Angry that Amos was to receive nothing from the estate. When she demanded to know why, Amos refused to speak about why his father had left everything to his brother Charles, including the house and the rest of the family money, except to say, “Dolores, believe me, you’re not the first person I’ve disappointed.” Amos drove quietly while Dolores went on and on about it during the entire car ride home, as if complaining and yelling would somehow change the dead man’s will.
“You’re just going to let him stay in that house and not pay you some portion of what it’s worth? Is that it? You’re done? And
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