Gilda Joyce: The Bones of the Holy Read Online Free PDF

say ‘haunted houses and ghost tours’?”
    â€œI thought it would be pretty silly,” Gilda’s mother continued, “but Eugene convinced me to go on one of the tours of the haunted houses, and it was quite interesting. I mean, I certainly don’t believe in ghosts, but the locals in St. Augustine seem to feel that—”
    â€œSorry, Mom.” Gilda held up her hand like a stop sign. “I think I must have misunderstood you. Are you saying that you actually WENT ON A GHOST TOUR WITHOUT ME?!”
    â€œHoney, you’re going to have lots of chances to go on the ghost tours. I know you like those spooky games.”
    Gilda fell silent, considering the situation in a new light. If Eugene Pook convinced Mom to go on a ghost tour for the first time , is it possible he’s not all that bad? Gilda imagined telling her friends that she was heading down to the “beach house” for Christmas break. She imagined herself investigating ghost-infested Southern mansions and getting interviewed as a ghost-hunting expert on national television.
    Still, the fact that her mother was actually planning to marry someone her kids had never met—someone she had only seen in person for a couple days—was appalling. For that, she felt her mother deserved the “Worst Mother of the Year” Award, if there were such a thing.
    â€œHere, Mom.” Gilda thrust “The Joyce Family Application” in front of her mother with the officious flourish of a trial lawyer. “I have a few questions before we move forward. You can’t blame me for wanting a few details.”
    â€œGilda, you are one of a kind.” Mrs. Joyce skimmed the paper and shook her head. “You may have to cut Eugene some slack in a few areas here. Nobody’s perfect.”
    â€œTranslation: ‘He wears a thong bathing suit with flip-flops when he goes out to dinner.’”
    Mrs. Joyce laughed. “Of course not. He dresses very nicely.”
    â€œWhat then? You have to tell me something about him, Mom!”
    â€œOkay . . . . As for why he’s single: He was engaged once many years ago, but never got married. . . . And he doesn’t have any children.”
    â€œWhat went wrong when he was engaged the first time?”
    â€œI don’t know, Gilda. He said it was a long time ago. His past is his own business.”
    Gilda wanted to probe this issue of his first fiancée further, but she sensed that her mother didn’t want to talk about that subject. “Okay,” she said. “So how did you actually meet him?”
    â€œWell, as I mentioned, he saw my picture on that dating website I joined over the summer, and we exchanged some e-mails, but I didn’t think much of it since he lives in Florida. But when Lucy won the trip, she twisted my arm to take the trip with her and meet him.”
    â€œAnd then he just swept you off your feet and proposed on the spot?”
    â€œNot exactly.”
    Gilda tried to interpret Mrs. Joyce’s inscrutable facial expression. Why was her mother being so maddeningly vague?!
    â€œIs he like Dad?” Gilda blurted. The question seemed to dangle in midair, and her mother was obviously taken aback. Why did I ask that? Gilda wondered. Would I want my new stepdad to be like Dad? Which would be worse: a stepdad who’s a bit like Dad—like a cheap copy—or someone who’s completely different in some way I can’t stand?
    â€œGilda, you know I’ve always told you that nobody could ever replace your dad or erase his memory. Your dad and I were highschool sweethearts—so young when we first met. We shared so many life experiences and problems together. I mean, we were best friends. . . . Eugene is different. Very intense .”
    Somehow the word “intense” didn’t match the voice Gilda remembered hearing on the telephone—a man who called her mother “Patty-Cakes.” On the