Ancient Spirits (Daisy Gumm Majesty Books) Read Online Free PDF Page A

see you.”
    “I’ll be there at ten-thirty on the dot,” I told her and hung up the ‘phone.
    Feeling blue and tired and draggy, I dumped out the rest of my oatmeal, something that gave me pause since we Gumms didn’t go about wasting food as a rule. However, the mere notion of finishing it made my stomach lurch, so I threw it away. I probably should have saved it and mixed it in with Spike’s dinner, but I didn’t want Ma or Aunt Vi to know I hadn’t eaten.
    Then I took a bath, went to the room I used to share with Billy and tried to decide what to wear that day. By that time, August was almost upon us, and the weather was hot as blazes. Mrs. Pinkerton’s home was generally cool inside—she was rich enough to be able to afford thick, insulated walls and lots of electrical fans—but I didn’t want to burn to death inside our Chevrolet. Another thing: I’d been proud of that automobile when I’d bought it after a happy client had given me a huge bonus for doing something kind for her daughter. Ever since Billy’s death, I hadn’t been proud of anything at all.
    I decided to wear a pretty dark gray voile dress with a black-embroidered wide boat neck and elbow-length sleeves and a dropped waist, both of which also sported black embroidery—if sported is the right word. The black suited both my position as a grieving widow and my mood. I wore black, low-heeled shoes and a gray straw hat.
    There. Nobody could fault me for not being in the pink of fashion, and even if I wasn’t clad entirely in black as mourning would dictate, at least I wasn’t the least bit colorful. This was particularly true as I hadn’t ventured out of doors since the day of Billy’s funeral except after evening fell, when I’d take Spike for walks. Therefore, any color had fled my cheeks long since. I didn’t feel like talking to the neighbors, which is why I went out only after dark. Silly, I suppose, but that’s how I felt about things.
    Our neighbors to the north, the Wilsons, had a little boy named Pudge, who was a Boy Scout. Pudge was about as pudgy as a fence post, had freckles that would probably mark him for life as a genial soul, and took to heart the Boy Scout pledge to do a good deed every day. Therefore, every single blasted day since Billy’s demise, he’d been coming over and begging me to allow him to do me a good deed. I didn’t want to wound the boy, but I didn’t want him hanging around, either.
    That morning, right after I’d dressed myself for going out, Pa and Spike came home, bearing Pudge with them. I fear I didn’t suppress my sigh of annoyance as well as I should have, because Pudge stopped in the doorway, staring at me in dismay. I hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings. Curse my bad mood!
    Spike, bless him, didn’t notice things like people’s moods—or if he did, he didn’t blame them for them. He bounded up to me, wagging and leaping as if he hadn’t seen me for weeks and weeks, rather than the approximately twenty minutes that had elapsed since Pa’d left the house with him.
    “I didn’t mean to bother you, Missus Majesty,” said Pudge in a small voice.
    “You’re not bothering me, Pudge,” I said softly. Heck, it was summer vacation. What else did the kid have to do? Pudge had been “sweet” on me for a long time, and he meant well. “But I really don’t need you to do anything right now.”
    He brightened up a bit. “I thought I could give the dog a bath. Mister Gumm said I could.”
    I glanced at Pa, who winked at me. In some ways, Pa was like Spike. He knew I was going through a personal sort of hell and didn’t hold it against me or tell me to buck up, or say any of the other inane things people say to other people when they’re feeling devastated and crushed.
    “Then that sounds like a fine idea, Pudge.” I also knew, because I’d deduced it a long time ago, that Pudge liked to get his good deed out of the way early in the day. That way, he’d have the rest of the day left