Read Online A Minister's Ghost by Phillip Depoy - Free Book Online

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    â€œDon’t they look peaceful?” Donny said from behind me.
    Startled, I turned his way quickly.
    â€œSorry, Doc,” he went on, “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that.”

    â€œThat’s all right, Donny,” I said, recovering. “I was just remembering them, something they did a couple of years ago at the school.”
    â€œThe pumpkin-carving contest.” Donny nodded sagely.
    Even though I grew up in Blue Mountain, knew most of the people there as family, I never ceased to be amazed at the way everyone knew everyone else’s business. Or that everyone occasionally exhibited a rough clairvoyance.
    â€œYou remember that?” I asked.
    â€œMe and Dover had a entry,” Donny said simply.
    â€œThe year the girls won, you and your brother entered a jack-o’-lantern?” I found it hard to believe. It wasn’t the sort of thing the boys were likely to do in those days. Steal a pumpkin, throw it at a passing neighbor, even give one to their sister, Truevine, in the hope of talking her into making a pie—these were more in line with their general wont.
    â€œWe had the biggest one there,” he said in hushed tones. “We were sure we’d win. We wanted the stuff from Eppie’s yard. You know. Funny what you want when you’re a kid.”
    I turned again to look at the side of his face. In his dark suit with the glow of the fire from inside the room painting his face with amber light, I saw a new man, different from the wild boy who’d hunted pigs and snakes. This was someone of substance. Sometimes the job makes the man.
    â€œWould you be offended if I said I was proud of you, of the transformation you’ve made, Donny?”
    â€œWhat?” He tilted his head. “You’re proud of me?” His face went boyish and I wasn’t sure if he was going to smile or cry.
    â€œYou and your brothers have really done something here,” I went on quickly, “and I expect there are quite a few people in town who see the changes you all have made. In yourselves and in this place. It’s good work and it deserves to be recognized.”
    â€œThanks, Dr. Devilin.” He studied his shoes. “That means a whole lot.”
    â€œYou got the girls ready in a hurry,” I said, stepping away from the coffins. “Is the family coming soon?”

    â€œAnytime now.”
    â€œOh.” I jumped. “Well, I’ll be going, then.”
    I headed toward the door. It wouldn’t do for me to run into the parents at the funeral parlor. I was hoping to catch them at home, maybe the next day. I had some questions for them, but I certainly didn’t want to intrude on their moment with the bodies. No need making the investigation any more difficult than it already was.
    â€œWhen’s the funeral?” I asked Donny, fishing in my pocket for keys. “Do you know?”
    â€œTomorrow,” he answered, following me. “At noon. You want me to walk you back to your truck?”
    The rain had let up a little.
    â€œThat’s all right,” I assured him. “I can dash for it.”
    I pulled open the door, gathered my collar around my neck, and jogged down the steps.
    â€œOkay, then,” Donny called from the doorway. “Take care.”
    Thunder sounded again, louder than before. A gust of wind drove orange and rusty leaves down all around me as I dashed for the truck. Leaves stuck to my face, my arms, my chest, as if autumn had decided to claim me for its own, wrap me in its shroud; cover me over with a cold embrace.
    I brushed them away before I climbed into the cab and pulled the door against a chill draft. But one leaf had followed me in, rested on the dashboard: orange, the color of a pumpkin, a crumpled wreckage of the year’s end.
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    The coroner’s office was only a five-minute drive, on the same main street as Skid’s office and Miss Etta’s diner.