Page 48 of My Favorite Lost Cause
He climbs down the bookshelf. “A ghost is possibly trying to overtake your body and is directing you to clues now, so yes, it’s pretty fucking weird.”
“She’s not trying to overtake my body,” I argue. “I’m just remembering these moments of her life.”
He runs a hand over his face and into his hair, bicep flexing. “Great, and now you’redefendingthe ghost trying to overtakeyour body, which is pretty much how I’d have predicted this would go.”
I laugh. “Stop. Okay, so assuming the weirdest interpretation here is the correct one, why would a ghost be directing me toward clues?”
“Obviously, to solve the mystery of her untimely death at the hands of a murderer who will somehow becomeawarethat you’re onto him and go on a killing rampage to stop you.”
I shrug, glancing over my shoulder at the house, now framed in gold by the rising sun. “Based on my knowledge of horror movies, all of you guys will die, but I’ll survive and that’s what matters.”
Charlie frowns, glancing at the journal one last time. “It’s probably just some crap girls do. Like you all read the same Nancy Drew book as kids.” I never read a single Nancy Drew book and I’m pretty sure they didn’t exist when Margaret was a child, but I get the sense Charlie’s trying to normalize all this for himself. I wish I could do the same.
“Maybe,” I conclude. “Go get your run in. I’m going to feed these guys.”
With one final, uncertain glance at me, Charlie gives in and heads to his cottage while I take the puppies into the kitchen. I fill their bowls and take a seat at the table, opening the diary with more anticipation than I should feel over a century-old book. “It would serve me right if it just turns out to be grocery shopping lists,” I tell the dogs.
Eventheyseem embarrassed for me. Even they seem to be sayingMaren, you’ve really gone too far, as they focus on their food.
I open the book. And there, in that neat, precise cursive, is Margaret’s journal.
May 10, 1916
There’s a party this weekend at Grayville Manor, andGeorge Graves asked if I’d save him a dance, and he didn’t ask anyone else to save him a dance, and I’m dying inside because Papa is never going to allow me to attend, not until the boys are home from school. There will be other dances, and Walter will be back from USC in a week, but I’m so heartbroken that I won’t be there.
I wince. Should I be reading this? Because I doubt I’d want anyone to find my highs and lows as a young adult, particularly as so many of them involved my sister’s fiancé. But no, this girl—Margaret, I assume—wanted me to read it.
I think.
May 12, 1916
I’m going to the dance! Sam is coming down with his friend William Howard, who’s doing work for Papa this summer. Ruby Wilson says William is a thousand times more handsome than George, but I remember William from when I was small before he moved away—and I don’t think he was all that handsome. She’s just bitter that George said I was the prettiest girl in school. I’m wearing the yellow chiffon dress Mama ordered for me from Atlanta if it arrives in time. Otherwise, I suppose I’ll just have to wear the blue lawn.
May 16, 1916
Sam arrived with William today. Heishandsome, unfortunately. More handsome than George. More handsome than anyone, really. Ruby will gloat if I admit it, so I intend to lie when she asks. Mama is making him stay in that shack down by the water, though she calls it a “cottage” to William’s face, as if that makes it better. I think it’s cruel, but Mama says it would be inappropriate to have him sleeping on the same floor as me. I found that ratherthrilling, the idea that I could be so endangered by William Howard.
Mama is letting me wear her ruby broach to the dance! I’ve been asking to wear it my entire life!
May 18, 1916
What an incredible disappointment. The ball did not go at all as I had hoped. George and I danced, but someone stepped on my foot and I was in such agony. And I have no idea why anyone calls William charming. He is far too aware of his looks. The girls fell all over themselves to get his attention, which is, no doubt, what’s made him so arrogant. He also made a rude joke about my dress. I was sorry for him because his father died when he was small and he and his mother had to go live with an aunt, but I no longer am.
May 20, 1916
William is doing exercise drills in the yard right now. He does them every morning because he believes the US will enter the war soon, now that Canada has. He looks ridiculous doing his sprints and his push-ups. Well, I’ll admit he appears exceedingly strong, but it’s still ridiculous. So ridiculous I can scarcely stop watching.
May 22, 1916
Why does William have to be so handsome? If he was simply amusing, I could overlook it. I’m shallow enough. But no, he has to be handsome as well. His face is a glorious thing. I’d stare at it through all of dinner if the boys wouldn’t ridicule me for it later.
May 24, 1916
Today George asked me for a token of my affection. Ithought he was perhaps asking for a kiss, but he actually wanted a memento—something to remind him of me when he was taking his exams in Columbia. I said I had nothing and he asked for Mama’s brooch, which I was wearing to impress him when I should have given it back to her.
Oh, why didn’t I just return it after the dance? I didn’t want to admit it wasn’t mine…so I let him take it, and now I’m sick with fear Mama will ask for it while he’s gone.
May 25, 1916
