The Haunting by Joan Lowery Nixon Page A

toward the back door, the bag of gris-gris swung freely under my shirt.
    “Jonathan,” I began, but whatever else I’d planned to say flew out of my mind. I yelped as the window slammed down with a bang.

CHAPTER TEN

    J onathan grinned down at me, and I realized I had wrapped my arms around him in a strangle-hold. “I’m sorry,” I said, and backed away as quickly as I could.
    “I’m not,” Jonathan answered, and his eyes twinkled. “Any time you get scared and want to do that again, I’m available.”
    “I guess all our talk about ghosts and evil things made me jumpy. I shouldn’t have been spooked by a broken window sash.”
    “I meant what I said,” he told me. He pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it to me. “This is my dad’s business card, but it’s got our home phone number on it, too. Call me if you need me.” He smiled warmly. “Call me anyway. Let me know when you’re coming back. Okay?”
    I smiled in return and dropped the card into thepocket of my shirt. “Okay,” I said. I hoped Jonathan couldn’t read my mind to know I thought it was more than okay. It was great, terrific, tremendous, fantastic.
    Mrs. Lord’s voice warbled, “Jonathan? Where are you?”
    “Gotta go, Lia,” Jonathan said. He strode ahead through the dining room and into the entry hall. I followed happily. Broad shoulders and long legs … Jonathan looked great coming or going.
    Mrs. Lord was pleasant as she said goodbye, and Mom seemed calm, so I guessed neither of them had become too upset about the other’s plans for Graymoss.
    We watched the Lords drive away; then Dad looked at his watch. “Let’s take a quick look at the outbuildings before we head back to Baton Rouge.”
    “Wait a minute,” Mom said. She dug through her purse, then handed it to me to hold. “My tape measure—I just remembered that I left it upstairs.”
    “I’ll get it,” Dad said, but Mom shook her head.
    “I know right where it is. I’ll only be a second.”
    As soon as Mom went back into the house, Dad looked at his watch. “It’s going to be a long second,” he said, and chuckled. “She’ll take another look at the bedrooms and count how many bunk beds will fit, and think about wallpaper. We might as well make ourselves comfortable.”
    But, as we settled down on the top step, Mom ran through the open front door. She leaned against the side of the house, breathing rapidly.
    Dad got up and smiled at her. “We didn’t expect you to set a speed record.”
    I saw something in Mom’s face that Dad hadn’t noticed. “What scared you?” I asked her.
    As Mom looked at me the fear in her eyes changed to a kind of tenderness. “The same thing that frightened you, honey,” she said. “The diary, the stories, the rumors … the power of suggestion. That’s all it was.”
    “But, Mom—”
    “Lia,” she said, “I understand
why
you were frightened. I—I gave in to the feelings myself.”
    “You didn’t say what you saw, or what you heard, or—”
    “And I’m not going to. Subject closed.” Mom walked ahead of us down the front steps and handed the house keys to Mr. Boudreau, who was waiting for us on the drive. “I’d like to get duplicates of those keys,” she said.
    Mr. Boudreau nodded. “Wait a little while afore you go to the expense,” he said in a doomsday voice. “You might not be needin’ ’em.”
    Mom just shook her head and didn’t say anything. I guess she felt she had argued enough.
    We toured the vegetable garden, which brightened Mom’s spirits so much that she again began to make plans for an even larger garden. I remembered the year she grew zucchini. The vines produced so many we had zucchini in everything, including bread and cake. Ever since then, I’ve cringed when I’ve seen a zucchini. I hoped zucchini wasn’t on her list.
    Next we looked over what remained of the summer kitchen—a kind of shed with open walls, set on a cement slab, with some of the supports and most of