The Haunted - Jessica Verday [82]
“When he died, she cried for months. Luckily, she was in the hospital for bronchitis when it happened, and she didn’t find him or anything. That would have been awful.” I shuddered. “I just tried my best to be there for her. She always went with her mom and dad to go visit his gravestone on the anniversary of his death every year, but I was never far away.”
“I know how that is,” he whispered.
I smiled sadly at him. “He’s buried in the town where they used to live. Out by Buffalo.
They already had family plots there and couldn’t get one closer.” Another car passed overhead and the support beams of the bridge trembled.
“You know what’s really ironic?” I whispered. “When Kristen died, people spread rumors that it was because she was into drugs. But Kristen never took anything stronger than a Tylenol. Refused to, because of what happened to her brother. Once, in eighth grade, she suffered through this terrible toothache because the dentist couldn’t squeeze her in for twenty-four hours. He prescribed her a Vicodin for the pain, but she wouldn’t take it. I sat by her side and held her hand while she cried the whole night.” My tears came hard, and suddenly, I couldn’t stop. I missed my best friend and I missed her brother, and I cried for both of them.
Caspian sat there with me until my sobs died down to a slow hiccup. Then he whispered,
“I’d hold your hand right now if I could.”
His eyes were so wide and earnest that I couldn’t help but smile at him. “Thanks,” I said, trying to hold back more tears. “It’s the thought that counts.” The Haunted
Chapter Eighteen
A REVELATION
In the dark shadow of the grove, on the margin of the brook, he beheld something huge, misshapen, black, and towering.
—“The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”
W hen I got home from work on Monday evening, I was tired and moody and sore. Every time I moved my arm or flexed my hand, it hurt. I seriously needed to talk to Uncle Bob about dialing back the settings on his coolers. Soft ice cream would be much easier to scoop.
I dropped my phone on the desk and turned toward the bed. A piece of notebook paper was resting there, held in place by a violet—like the ones that grew wild in the cemetery. I picked it up and stroked the soft purple petals of the flower.
As I unfolded the note, a four-leaf clover fell out and dropped to the floor. I left it there for a minute as I scanned the words in front of me.
Abigail Astrid,
I hope your day scooping ice cream and making children of all ages deliriously happy went well. May I request the pleasure of your company at Kristen’s spot tomorrow morning, 7 a.m.?
Until then, I’ll see you under the stars.
—Caspian
P.S. I hope you don’t mind another four-leaf clover. For some reason, they keep finding me.
There were drawings of stars and leaves covering the back side of the paper, and I smiled to myself, holding it close to my heart. I bent down to pick up the clover and placed it on the desk next to the flower. I’m going to have to start pressing these to put in a scrapbook if he keeps giving them to me.…
I fell asleep early that night, and slept deeply. When my alarm went off at six forty-five the next morning, I had to drag myself out of bed, and I hoped that a shower would help wake me up.
I was still pretty sleepy as I walked to the cemetery, but the closer I got, the more my excitement grew. What did he have planned? My stomach was in knots, and I tried to tell myself to calm down. It wasn’t like he was proposing.…
Oh God.
I came to a screeching halt. That was ridiculous. He’s not… I’m only… I shook my head to clear my thoughts and pushed that idea firmly from my mind. It was ridiculous. And I wasn’t going to think about it.
Forcing myself to act cool and collected, I strode through the gates and made my way to Kristen’s grave. Caspian was standing next to her stone, holding something in his hands.
“Ah, Abbey.” His face lit up. “I see you