Page 39 of The Ghost of Ellwood
“Is that what you really want?”
“Yes.” But his eyes told another story.
I wouldn’t push the matter further. For now.
“I should get to work,” I said, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets. “Will you join me in my office?”
“Of course. I must discover if Dr. Watson and Holmes solve the mystery of the hound.”
“The books were published when you lived, right?” I exited the greenhouse, and he followed me.
“Yes, but Father wouldn’t allow me to read them. He said they were utter nonsense and I shouldn’t waste time filling my head with such drivel.”
Theo walked beside me, and I couldn’t help but think how odd it was to see him outside in the daylight. With the exception of the moments his body flickered, he appeared just as human as I did.
“Well, I have the whole collection. Help yourself to them whenever you like.”
“Thank you.”
I opened the front door and let him inside before entering the house behind him. “Can I ask you something?”
His expression was reluctant, but he nodded.
“When you first appeared to me in my office, you typed lines from a poem on my computer. I researched it after you left and found it was part of theLove Songscollection by Sara Teasdale.”
“Correct.”
“What’s so special about it?” It would’ve had to be special for him to have memorized the stanza.
Theo stopped walking. He stood near the bottom of the staircase and cast a gaze upward. And then he sighed. The action was out of habit more than necessity; he didn’t have to breathe.
“Harvey and I were supposed to go to war together,” he said, sitting on the first step. “We signed up as soon as we were able. The poems were released in September of 1917. America had just entered the Great War in April, sending soldiers to France in October, and we were set to ship out in mid-November with another unit.”
I sat beside him, not saying anything even though I wanted to.
“I came across the poem and read it to Harvey one morning as we lay in his bed. He’d played with my hair as I did, and when I finished, he said, ‘I could’ve written that about you.’ And I smiled and said the same.”
Then, he quoted the same lines as before:
“But all remembered beauty is no more
Than a vague prelude to the thought of you—
You are the rarest soul I ever knew.”
“Why so sad, though?” I asked. “If you two were in love, why quote something that sounds like you’re saying goodbye?”
“Because we were,” Theo answered. “He was to marry a young woman named Lillian McAllister. We were to leave for war middle of November, and his wedding was to be one month prior. Long enough for them to make it official. We spent most of September memorizing the taste and feel of each other, knowing we wouldn’t have much longer. My heart broke each time we made love. I knew I could never kiss him deep enough, hold him close enough. And when October arrived, we parted ways. He truly was the rarest soul I ever knew.”
My eyes watered.
I’d been an asshole. My curiosity about Harvey and Theo had seemed more like learning about the lives of fictional characters. It never sunk in that they werereal,that they had loved and lost.
“I’m sorry, Theo. All the times I asked about Harvey…how Carter and I pried through the attic trying to find anything about him. I was wrong to do so, and I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“If it’s all right with you, Ben, I would very much like you to know about Harvey.” Theo turned his head toward me, and his glassy eyes caught me off guard. I didn’t know ghosts could cry. “I hid the journal under the loose floorboard in your bedroom. You can read it, if you wish.”
It had been so close this entire time.
