The Burning Girl Read Online Free Page B

in.
    “I met with a man who talks to the angels,” Schaffer said. He ran a large hand through wheat-colored hair. “He said that my Steph was out there, waiting for me. He said that she was praying I would find her. He promised I would if I just kept going, if I never gave up.”
    Eloise struggled not to roll her eyes. There was no end of frauds out there, exploiting the desperate. She wondered how much that visit had cost him.
    Eloise could feel Schaffer’s sadness, his desperation. And something else, something darker. A childish wanting, an inability to release.
    “I see,” said Eloise.
    “Would it help if I brought you something of hers?”
    Eloise was about to say no. But Ray said, “Sure, that would be great.”
    “Are you going to be able to help me, Ms. Montgomery?”
    “I’ll do my best,” said Eloise. She beat a hasty retreat after that. Something about him was suffocating. Out on the street, she felt her breath return.
    • • •
    Meanwhile, The Burning Girl would not be ignored. Eloise had promised Agatha that she would tell the girl to go, that she would be firm. And she’d tried, she really had. But after a few days of fires in her house, Eloise finally got in her car and drove. What choice did she have?
    When Miriam came to answer the door, she didn’t seem to recognize Eloise at first. The young woman had that vacant look of fatigue that all new mothers had. In the thrall of little ones, all personal needs neglected or delayed, young mothers were a special breed of givers.
    Eloise remembered so vividly when her girls were small. There was almost nothing else in her life—just the kids and the house. These days, women wanted to work, too, wanted to achieve something. They had educations and grand expectations of their lives. Eloise had never wanted anything but a family and a happy home, which used to be normal but was now something laughable. The stay-at-home mom had somehow become an object of (subliminal) disdain. As if the job of raising children wasn’t an important vocation, as if it was something one should subcontract like the cleaning of your house or yard work. No, these days, you had to earn or be valueless.
    “Miriam,” said Eloise as the woman stared at her blankly through the screen. “Do you remember me? Eloise Montgomery.”
    “Oh, Eloise!” she said, her face lighting with recognition. “Of course. I’m sorry. I’m such a mess.”
    The young woman cast an exhausted but loving glance down at the cooing infant on her hip. “Ella’s so fussy.”
    “Ah,” Eloise said. “I remember those days.”
    “I don’t think my older one was ever this cranky,” she said with a smile. “But he was a baby such a long time ago now. You forget, don’t you?”
    The doughy, sweet baby was transfixed with Eloise, her big eyes staring, a little drool gathering in the corner of her Cupid’s bow mouth.
    “You do forget,” said Eloise.
    Miriam held the door open for Eloise, who walked inside. The house was tidy, plain. Eloise expected to see The Burning Girl there. But no.
    Miriam offered coffee. But Eloise declined, and they sat on matching plaid love seats, facing each other over a coffee table.
    “So,” said Miriam brightly. “What can I do for you, Eloise?”
    The baby fussed, and Miriam shifted her onto her thigh, bouncing her a little in that way that babies seem to like. Little Ella smiled at Eloise, and Eloise felt such a sudden grip of longing and sadness, she had to look away from the child.
    Eloise didn’t know why she’d come exactly, and she had no plans about what to say. But she just wound up telling Miriam about the girl she’d seen. Eloise only knew how to be direct.
    She could see by the pallor that came over Miriam that the young woman knew exactly who Eloise was talking about.
    Miriam didn’t say anything right away. And Eloise wondered if she should just leave. Then:
    “I saw her for the first time in the woods out back,” Miriam said. “I used to