The Ghost Belonged to Me Read Online Free Page B

behind his newspaper, which in this instance could have meant agreement.
    â€œI guess if Tom Hackett isn’t doing right, you’d rather see me stepping out with—ah—Bub Timmons,” Lucille said, very pert.
    â€œDon’t talk so absurd,” Mother said. “Bub Timmons is no more than fourteen years old.”
    â€œAnd trash,” Lucille added.
    At the mention of Bub, Dad glanced around his newspaper, trying to decipher how the Timmonses had come into the conversation. But he ducked back when Lucille continued. “What if I was to break it off with Tom?” Lucille said to Mother. “Then how’d you feel? You been grooming me for Tom and the Hackett money since I was younger than this squirt here.” Lucille waved a knife in my direction.
    â€œDon’t talk so vulgar,” Mother said, glancing over her shoulder at the kitchen door. “And put down your knife when you’re using your fork.”
    I heard a horse stomping gravel and glanced behind me out the bay window. There was Uncle Miles Armsworth, eighty-five years old and straight as a plumb line. He was tying his horse, Nelly Melba, up to the porch post. His big box of carpentry tools was fixed onto the back of his buggy. So I knew we were in for an interruption before Lucille and Mother could get each other by the short hairs.
    Pretty soon the front door banged back, and Uncle Miles bellowed down the hall, “ANYBODY TO HOME?”
    â€œOh dear Lord, not this early,” Mother sighed and rubbed her forehead.
    â€œI better be off to school,” said Lucille.
    â€œFold your napkin,” Mother told her.
    â€œCome on in, Uncle Miles!” Dad said, turning so he wouldn’t have to look at Mother.
    Lucille was beating a hasty retreat, but she said to Mother, “Be sure to tell Uncle Miles what we want him to build for my party.”
    â€œFirst things first,” Mother said. “I want him to get started on the porch today. You know how difficult he is.”
    Then Uncle Miles was standing in the doorway grinning toothless like he just tagged us all out in a turn at hide-and-seek.
    â€œStill settin’ to your breakfast!” he boomed. “I had mine at 5:30!”
    Uncle Miles was an original kind of old codger and a sore trial to Mother. Dad would have put him on the payroll at the business, which is house construction. But Uncle Miles was an independent type carpenter. He took on the work he wanted to and worked a ten-hour day. Then he’d lay off for a week to fish Snake Creek or travel. Taking so many odd jobs all over town kept him modem, he always said.
    Cousin Elvera Schumate said his way with wood was as admired as his tongue was feared. She would say this much on his behalf even if she is from Mother’s side of the family.
    â€œCome on in, Uncle Miles, and take a—” Dad caught a glimpse of Mother before he could ask him to sit down. But Gladys slammed through from the kitchen and advanced on him with a beaming face and a cup of coffee.
    â€œSay, Gladys, if I’d a-knowed I’d see you, I’d a-put my teeth in.” Uncle Miles fumbled around in his overall pocket and pulled out a full set of false choppers. They grinned out of his fist at Gladys, who whooped a big laugh. Mother shaded her eyes with her hand.
    â€œThat will do, Gladys,” she moaned.
    â€œOh hark at that, Gladys?” said Uncle Miles. “Back to the kitchen while you’re still an honest woman. But stay single for me. I’m just a-gettin’ into my prime!” Gladys whooped again and vanished.
    â€œWell, Uncle Miles, how you feeling?” Dad said.
    â€œBetter’n you look, Joe. You gettin’ to look more and more like a pinch-faced banker right along. Settin’ at a desk when you’d be better workin’ construction in the great out-of-doors. Ain’t you laid up enough money yet to suit—”
    â€œUncle Miles!”