Ghosts Beneath Our Feet by Betty Ren Wright Page B

Frank’s. She thought of telephoning Joan but decided against it. Joan disliked Jay; she wouldn’t understand why Katie felt sorry for him now.
    She ended up in the library. It was the smallest and, in this weather, the darkest room in the house, but she switched on a lamp next to a massive chair of wood and leather and began pulling books from the shelves. There were some adventure series published fifty or sixty years ago. A row of biographies, in very small print, filled one shelf, and old textbooks crowded several others. There were lots of travel books and atlases. Katie finally chose The Sinking of the Titanic . The book jacket said it was a true story about a terrible disaster at sea. The subject suited her mood.
    Two hours later she was completely lost in the terrible events of that long-ago night on the Atlantic. On the deck of the Titanic , John Jacob Astor was helping his wife into one of the last lifeboats, knowing they would never meet again on this earth. Katie’s eyes blurred with tears. How dreadful it all was! Her own troubles seemed small by comparison. She could picture the listing ship, hear the brave men of the ship’s orchestra playing “Nearer My God to Thee.…”
    A car door slammed. A moment later there was a tapping, hardly louder than the rain.
    Katie waited, hoping her mother would go to the door. When the tapping was repeated, she put her book aside and went down the hall. A tall figure waited on the other side of the screen. She opened the door for the visitor, who stamped his feet on the mat and mopped his face with a rumpled handkerchief.
    â€œEnough rain to sink a ship,” he said, making Katie wonder if he could read her mind. “I’m Sheriff Hesbruck. Mind if I come in?”
    Katie stepped back. “I’m Katie Blaine. You can sit in the parlor if you want to. I’ll call my mother.”
    â€œIt’s your brother I want to talk to,” the sheriff said. He had a long, thin face, and eyes that studied her as if he intended to remember her forever. “That is, if Jay Blaine is your brother.”
    â€œMy stepbrother. I’ll get him. He’s upstairs.”
    Was he going to arrest Jay? Her feet dragged as she climbed the stairs, and when she stood outside Jay’s door, her voice was a queer, choky whisper. “Jay. Come on out. The sheriff wants to see you.”
    Her mother’s door popped open as if she’d been waiting with her hand on the knob. Jay’s door opened more slowly. They both stood looking at her, while thunder crashed overhead.
    â€œWhat did you say?” Jay demanded. “Who wants to see me?”
    â€œThe sheriff. The sheriff’s downstairs waiting.”
    Jay’s face darkened, and he moved back into the safety of his room. Katie wished she could help him. John Jacob Astor must have looked a little like that, she thought, when he realized the Titanic was going down.

Chapter Nine
    â€œNow what’s going to happen?” The words had drummed through Katie’s head all the time Sheriff Hesbruck, Jay, and Mrs. Blaine talked in the parlor. Now the sheriff was gone, Jay was back upstairs, Uncle Frank was still napping, and Katie and her mother were alone in the library.
    â€œThe sheriff let him off with a warning,” Mrs. Blaine said, her voice flat and weary. “They didn’t actually hurt the cottage, and the owner decided not to press charges. Jay says they went inside to get out of the rain.”
    â€œThen is everything okay?”
    â€œNo.” Mrs. Blaine sat up. “No, everything is definitely not okay. I have a fifteen-year-old stepson who defies me and h-hates me”—her voice trembled—“and I don’t know what to do about it. I know he misses his father terribly—so do I!—but there’s no way I can take Tom’s place. The four of us had such a short time before Tom died, that’s the trouble.” She shook her