Nathaniel

Ben Findley's arms went around A

But A

A moment later, when Ben Findley tried to follow her, he found the door locked. When he called to her, A

The next morning, A

"Such a terrible thing for a boy his age-"

"Of course, losing his father must have been a terrible trauma for him, but to blame his grandfather-"

"Of course, he couldn't have seen a ghost, but he must have seen something-"

"Of course, I can't believe it's true. Why would a little boy want to do a thing like that-"

A

A

A

"But-but-how?"

"I don't know," A

"Mother!"

"He did, Laura. But then he stopped. When I couldn't walk anymore, he stopped."

Then, with a strength she hadn't felt for years, A

"I want to go to Janet's," she said now.

"But mother, Janet's in bed. The doctor's ordered her to stay in bed for at least a week."

"Then she'll need help," A

"Mother, no one expects you to do anything right now. Ione Simpson's looking after her, and Michael can spend the nights with us, if it's too much trouble for the Simpsons."

A

Suddenly Laura's expression turned wary. "Gossip? What gossip?"

"It seems," A

Laura paled. "I know what they're talking about, but it isn't true, mother. It isn't possible-"

"I'll decide for myself what's possible and what isn't," A

"Mother, you really should stay home-what will people think? And Father-think of Father."

A

Ione Simpson looked up in shocked surprise, then got quickly to her feet as A

A

Ione hesitated, then shook her head. "He's in the kitchen, I think."

Wordlessly, A

She found Michael at the kitchen table, staring sightlessly at a bowl of cold cereal. As if coming out of a trance, his eyes suddenly focused, and he looked at her. "Aren't you going to give your grandmother a kiss?" she asked.

With obvious reluctance, Michael got up from the table and approached her. "I-I'm sorry, Grandma," he whispered. A

"It's all right, Michael. I know it's hard, but he was an old man, and whatever happened, it wasn't your fault." Then she held him at arm's length and looked directly into his eyes. "It wasn't your fault, was it?"

Michael trembled slightly, then nodded his head.

"I see," A

Slowly, Michael recounted his story of the night before, and when he was done, A

She reached out then, reached out to comfort the sobbing boy who sat across from her, his head buried in his arms. At her touch, he looked up.

"I'm sorry, Grandma. I'm sorry!"

"Michael," A

Slowly, Michael's sobbing subsided, and at last he looked up at his grandmother, his eyes red, his cheeks splotched with tears.

"Who is Nathaniel?" A

Michael's eyes widened, and for a long moment he stared at his grandmother in silence. At last, he shook his head.

"No, Grandma," he said softly. "He's real."