Dirty Faces - Book 2

Chapter 4: Just Dead

Chapter 4: Just Dead

"It comes in threes, you know," said Granny as she gently swung back and forth on the porch swing, her arm around Ginny. She smelled like Mama's ivory soap and she was very soft-spoken. Her white hair was in a thick plait that hung down her back, and she was a small woman, but not frail.

"What comes in threes?" Ginny asked. It was a warm day, the grass and bushes around the porch were neatly trimmed, and birds were singing. And she didn't find it remotely strange that the old gray house looked lived-in and well cared-for. Granny ran a wrinkled hand through Ginny's tangled hair and her lips smiled, but her old eyes were sad.

"Death, sweetheart. Death comes in threes," she whispered.

That was all Ginny could remember of the dream when she awoke earlier than usual that Saturday morning. She lay there with her eyes shut tight, trying hard to remember more; she had liked Granny very much as they had sat there together on the porch swing at the old gray house back home. But her words had been very unsettling, and she felt she needed to remember more. When she concluded that she couldn't, she chalked it up to another one of those dreams that would stick with her for a very long time, but that she could never tell anybody about because they might think she was crazy like Jack.

A cold shiver shot through her body and she pulled the heavy quilt tightly up around her neck. That apartment was always cold, especially in the mornings when she had to leave the warmth of the bed loaded down with blankets and quilts and step her bare feet onto the cold, wood floor. She was glad it was the weekend so she could lay there a little longer, even if she couldn't remember her dream.

The only good thing about sharing a bed with Granny, she had found, was the added warmth Granny's body gave off on these cold nights and mornings. But this morning, there was no warmth coming from the other side of the bed. She turned over and propped herself up on her elbow and watched for the rise and fall of her great-grandmother's chest, but there was none. Ginny had never seen anyone so still. She listened closely for the slightest little sound of breathing but only heard cars passing by the apartment. Finally, she cautiously put her hand out and touched Granny's arm. Despite having been tucked snugly under the quilt last night by Mama, her fragile skin was ice cold.

What now? she thought, a little frightened. Should she wake Mama? What if she was wrong? What if Granny really wasn't dead and she scared Mama unnecessarily? After all, she was no doctor or coroner. Truthfully, she had never even been around a corpse before, that she could remember. She needed validation, a second opinion.

She pulled the quilt off her, stepped out onto that cold, wood floor, and tiptoed out the bedroom door, through the front room, and into the boys' room. She stood in the doorway, debating which of them to wake. On one side of the room, sandy, blond hair peeked out from beneath the cover. On the other, a pillow held in place by a tan hand was all that could be seen outside the blanket. Adam, she knew, would be upset no matter the outcome. Kody would probably just be irritated that she woke him up and she was used to that, so she quietly drifted toward his bed.

She leaned down and tugged up on the nearest corner of the pillow. "Kody," she whispered to the mess of dark hair. He didn't stir. She leaned in closer and whispered, "Hey, get up!"

"No," came his muffled response. "Go away."

She stood back up and wrestled the pillow from his grip as quietly as she could. It probably looked rather comical, but she was glad she was able to pull it off without awakening an audience. He rolled over on his back and opened one eye, peering up at his scrawny little sister holding his pillow hostage. "You do realize it's the weekend?" he grumbled.