3
“Are you a ghost?” Elisabeth said, finally.
“You’re the ghost,” Charlie said. “Are you telling me that—that—”
“My name is Elisabeth Burnham. And I know who you are. You’re Charlie Davis.” Elisabeth pointed at him with a shaking hand. “That book—I know that book.”
Slowly, Charlie took it out of his pocket.
“It says Mary Elisabeth Davis on the front overleaf. Am I right? Elisabeth spelled with an ‘s.’”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. Mary Elisabeth’s my sister. Aunt Elisabeth gave her this book.”
“I know that book,” Elisabeth whispered. “It’s poetry. I’ve read it. Lots of times. And my name is Elisabeth, spelled with an ‘s.’”
“It’s a Burnham thing,” Charlie said. “The Burnhams always need to be contrary. Can’t spell a name like everyone else does.”
“That’s exactly what my dad used to s
