Read Christina's Ghost for Free Online

Clearwater on the way back,” Uncle Ralph said as they walked to the car. “We’re running low on powdered milk and a lot of other stuff. And then I want to go to the library. If they have one, that is.”
    Chris stared at him, wide-eyed. Could he read her mind? Had he overheard Grandma talking? No, she decided, he was just naturally a Library Person.
    The grocery shopping went quickly, with Uncle Ralph tossing cans and packages and loaves of bread into their cart with hardly a glance at the labels. After that they went next door to a drugstore. Uncle Ralph bought shaving cream, and Chris found a paperback book full of jokes and riddles. If she was going to bring sunshineinto her uncle’s life, maybe the book would help.
    And maybe not. He sniffed when he saw what she’d chosen.
    â€œNow the library,” he said. “It’s right around the corner, according to the druggist. I don’t suppose it’s a very big one. . . .”
    His voice faded as they turned off the main street and stared at the tiny one-room building marked
Public Library
. Uncle Ralph shook his head. “Not a chance in a million that they’ll have anything I need,” he grumped, “but I suppose they can order for me. I’ll be out in a few minutes, Christina. You can wait in the car.”
    Chris felt sick with disappointment. She’d pictured a big two-story library like the one at home. How could she go into this little building and ask to see newspapers of thirty years ago? In the first place, they probably wouldn’t have them. In the second place, Uncle Ralph would hear her and tell her to forget the whole thing.
    She walked back to the corner and looked for something to do while she waited. Across the street was a clothing store advertising a sale of summer shorts and T-shirts. Beyond that was an ice-cream shop.
Chocolate, pecan, and rainbow
, she thought, suddenly starved. She’d take a triple-dipper back for Uncle Ralph, too.
    She was just turning in to the shop when a sign in the next window caught her eye:
The Clearwater Journal
. A newspaper office! She studied the other signs taped to the glass.
Subscribe now! Job printing, reasonable rates
. Surely the printers would keep copies of their old newspapers.
    The triple-dippers forgotten, Chris marched into the office and looked around. A skinny, glum-looking man was behind the counter. One fist clutched a telephone; with the other hand he was jotting additions to a long list of items. He had an odd, glazed expression, and his glance flicked over Chris without seeing her.
    After what seemed a very long time, he mumbled a good-bye and hung up. “Liberated women,” he snarled into the air above Chris’s head.
    â€œExcuse me?” She took one step closer to the counter.
    â€œWomen!” the man snapped. “Wives!”
    Chris looked over her shoulder, ready to run if necessary.
    â€œI suppose when you grow up you’re going to want a
career
,” the man jeered. He made
career
sound terrible. “My wife’s a nurse. Works second shift at the hospital.”
    Chris cleared her throat. “That’s nice,” she said cautiously.
    â€œNothing nice about it! She calls to tell me to do thegrocery shopping. She calls to tell me to wash the windows. She calls to tell me what to fix for dinner.” He shook his head so hard the pencil poised behind one ear hurtled through the air. “And what do
you
want?”
    â€œI’d like to see some . . . some old newspapers,” Chris said. The request sounded silly, even to herself.
    â€œHow old?” The man glared at the phone as if he was daring it to ring again.
    â€œAbout thirty years,” Chris said. “If it isn’t too much trouble.”
    â€œIt’s trouble,” the man said. “What week do you want? We publish once a week.”
    â€œI—I don’t know.” Why had she thought this would