Page 78 of Haunting the Deep

Mary ignores her. “Just for a minute. Come on, Sam, dish.”

I half smile at her. “What do you mean?”

“Details,” Mary says. “All of them.”

Even though Alice objected, I can tell by her look that she’s curious, too. They all wear the same expectant expression.

“Um…well…he has an accent. A slight one. Kinda British-sounding.”

“How old?” Mary asks.

“Eighteen when he died,” I say. “He’s formal, like in a seventeenth-century way.Superstubborn.”

“Looks?” Alice asks.

“Tall, about a head taller than me. Dark wavy hair, gray eyes, high cheekbones. Sometimes when he stands near a fireplace or looks out the window, he looks more like a portrait than real.”

Mary squeals. “So basically, he’s beautiful.”

My face gets hot. Susannah grins at me. They all do.

“You’ve kissed him, haven’t you?” Mary says.

“Uh…” I laugh awkwardly. “I…”

Alice looks mischievous. “That good, huh?”

I’m sure my cheeks have transcended red and moved on to purple. “You know what? I think I hear my dad calling,” I say, and head up my driveway.

“Uh-huh,” Mary says, and they all laugh again.

I wave goodbye, but I don’t feel like laughing. I shouldn’t be talking about Elijah like this. I know better than to get attached to people who leave. I never want to make that mistake again.

“Sam,” my dad’s voice calls from his office the second I close the door. “Come on in here a minute.”

He sits behind his desk, which is covered with papers and books. I take the seat across from him. I always like visiting my dad in his office, getting a glimpse into his business world.

“I got a call back from our Haxtun relative,” he says.

I stiffen. “You did?”

“I did…and I decided to do a little digging. Funny thing is, she said that no one in our family has been named Myra since Myra Haxtun Harper, who survived theTitanic,and who is obviously dead.” He stares at me, like he’s gauging my reaction.

My heart pounds wildly. “What? That’s so weird. Why would someone send us packages that say they’re from her,then?”

He continues talking like I didn’t ask a question. “And it occurred to me that you thought something strange had happened with the painting in the hallway. So I went and looked through some of Mom’s historical ledgers, and wouldn’t you know it, that painting is actually of Myra.”

I sit perfectly still, nervous that if I even gesture wrong, he’ll see right through me. “So what does that mean? Do you think it was a prank or some twisted history fanatic?”

“What I do know is that you already figured out who Myra was, Sam. And what I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me.”

So much for sitting still. “I didn’t. I—”

“Think carefully before you continue that sentence. Every night, you’ve been poring overTitanichistory, which I find hard to believe didn’t include the Harpers. And I’ve never known you in your entire life to walk away from an unanswered question. I thought it was strange when you told me not to look into it. Now I’m positive that there’s something going on you’re not telling me about.”

My stomach drops fast and hard. “I…” I can’t think of a possible out from this situation. “I didn’t want to upset you after…well, after everything that happened.”

“After Vivian, you mean.”