Haunting Ellie Read Online Free PDF Page B

Those things had been shoved into a pile by a bulldozer and hauled off to the dump, along with her china, her Waterford crystal, her Lladro, and the one-of-a-kind pottery she’d purchased from starving artists.
    Only her jewelry and some of her clothing had been salvaged, along with the cameras she kept in well-insulated and cushioned cases, and a few odds and ends that had survived the crush. The earthquake had been devastating enough. Why had the relentless rains hit, too, sending mud flowing down the hill right along with her house?
    At least she hadn’t lost loved ones, like so many others. All she’d lost were three days of her life as she lay pinned between the center beam of her house and her mattress. That mattress. Her brother had laughed when she’d spent a fortune on bedding. But the feathers had been soft, comfortable, and it was the only thing that had kept her from being crushed when the roof had crashed down and shoved her deep into the cushion of goose-down. How often had she thought during those lonely, frightening seventy-two hours that at least she would die in a cradle of luxury, cuddled up snug and close with a pillow and blankets, even if they were permeated with dirt and mud and shards of glass?
    She’d suffered a fractured arm, two broken ribs, a slight concussion, multiple cuts and abrasions, a case of dehydration, and the sorest throat she’d ever had. She’d screamed for twelve hours straight, hoping someone would find and rescue her. That strong, deep voice of hers had given up long before help had arrived. And while she’d screamed, she’d prayed, and that was when she’d begun making promises. She’d be a nice person. She’d make friends. She’d help others. She wouldn’t swear. She’d even promised to keep her promises, no matter how difficult they might be.
    He’d listened. He’d kept her company. And He’d sent that good-looking fireman, the poor, unfortunate soul who’d had the misfortune of locating her would-be grave. She’d wrapped her one good arm around his neck and kissed him like they were long-lost lovers, kissed him with bad breath, a blood-crusted face, and a runny nose. And some lousy photographer had chosen that pathetic moment to snap her rescue and been lucky enough to have it plastered across the front of the L.A. Times and most of the newspapers in the country.
    She’d always joked about winning a Pulitzer for her photography. She hadn’t wanted to be the pitiful object captured in someone else’s winning entry.
    Finally she laughed, and the memory of that kiss made her smile. That miserable seventy-two hours of being buried alive had had at least one reward. Her rescuer might not have enjoyed the kiss, but it was the nicest one she could remember in thirty-one years of living.
    oOo
    Alexander rested his elbows on the back of the chesterfield and watched the lady laugh, and smile, and shed a tear. He wondered what strange thoughts were going through her head.
    Why did women have to be so perplexing? Why did they laugh and cry at the same time? Amanda had done the same thing, especially during those days right before their wedding. He’d never been able to figure her out, either. But he’d loved her—the crazy emotions didn’t matter at all.
    Tarnation! He didn’t want to get sentimental. He had a guest, and he wanted to have fun. He’d befriended an intruder in his house once upon a time, and what had it gotten him? Just another person to miss. He’d thought the little boy was his friend, but friends don’t tell secrets, and that one had. Alex had told the boy what might happen if he told people he’d been talking to a ghost, but the boy didn’t listen. He’d brought the men into Alexander’s home, and he’d begged Alex to talk, or to show himself, to prove to people in town that he wasn't crazy. But Alex hadn’t made a noise. In the end the men had laughed at the boy, and the kid had gotten mad.
    The boy’d yelled at Alex when the others