The Burning Girl Read Online Free PDF Page A

take a walk back there while my boy was napping. We’re so isolated here; it always seemed safe to do.”
    Miriam told Eloise how she saw the little girl dancing through the trees and followed her to a graveyard on the property that edged their property.
    “I looked forward to seeing her,” said Miriam. “It was a hard time in my life. We were trying for another baby. I had stopped writing. And I had suffered a number of miscarriages. I was struggling with depression. She was a bright spot.”
    Eloise nodded, made all the right affirming noises.
    “Then I made the mistake of telling Nick about it,” she said. “He flipped out.”
    “Why?” asked Eloise.
    “I don’t know,” said Miriam. “He was afraid, I think. He wanted me to stop going out there. And I did. Shortly after I stopped, I became pregnant with Ella.”
    Eloise got a flash vision, a quick view of the woman leaning over the bathtub, and her heart started to thump. She heard a child crying. But then it was gone, as quickly as it came. She’d broken a sweat, though.
    “Are you all right?” Miriam asked. “Eloise, what is this about?”
    “I’m fine,” Eloise said. “Sorry.”
    Miriam stood and handed the baby to Eloise. “I’m going to get you some water.”
    People were always rushing off to get Eloise water. Was it just a way to get away from her and the uncomfortable nature of the things that happened to her? Ella came to Eloise easily, gave her a big gummy smile, some soft gurgles. Oh, how fat and fragrant she was, what a bundle of raw energy. Eloise wanted to nuzzle her but settled for holding her around the middle, balancing her on her lap, and giving her a bumpy little ride.
    “Aren’t you precious, Ella?” she asked. “Aren’t you the sweetest thing?”
    Ella released a happy squeal.
    “That’s a compliment,” said Miriam, placing the glass on the table in front of Eloise. She lifted the baby off of Eloise’s lap. “She usually fusses.”
    Eloise had loved her baby time with Emily and Amanda. She remembered so vividly their wonderful little baby bodies, their tiny hands and belly buttons. She remembered Alfie walking and walking them when they cried, giving them their baths, the midnight feedings. They were so worried all the time, hoping they were doing everything right. No one tells you that those years are the easy years. Physically harder, more exhausting, sure. But easier in every other way—you hold them in your arms, you can kiss all the hurts away. Their needs are so simple.
    Eloise watched Miriam unselfconsciously give Ella her breast. She felt better watching them, natural and beautiful, at one with each other. Agatha was wrong. Everything was going to be fine.
    “Miriam, if you see her again,” said Eloise, “you have to tell her to go away. Tell her you can’t help her.”
    She hadn’t planned to say this. But, yes, this was what she had come to say. She had to pass along Agatha’s advice to the person who needed it most. She felt that blessed rush of relief when she had done what she was intended to do.
    But Miriam’s eyes traveled to the window, and Eloise heard the sound of a car in the driveway, then a door slamming. A moment later, the door opened quietly. Nick walked in, holding a bouquet of flowers and a small plush bear. He moved carefully, obviously trying not to wake the baby if she was sleeping.
    “Hello?” he called quietly. “Where are my girls?”
    “In here,” said Miriam. Her face brightened with love; she instantly looked ten years younger.
    As soon as Nick saw Eloise, the happy expression he wore dropped into a frown. She knew the look of angry skepticism. The people who didn’t want to believe were the most hostile. Those who wanted to believe were open, accepting. The ones who didn’t believe at all might be mocking, or humoring, or just dismissive. But the people who were afraid that she might actually be what she said she was, and were afraid of what that might mean? Well, they