Blue Dahlia

from the bedrooms.
    She’d see about buying a little fridge, like the one she’d had in her dorm room at college, for the upstairs sitting room.
    Low-grade fever, she thought as she rushed into the kitchen. He’d probably be better by tomorrow. If he wasn’t, she’d call the doctor.
    She hunted up ginger ale, filled a tall glass with ice, grabbed a bottle of water, and dashed back upstairs.
    “I get ginger ale,” she heard Luke say as she walked back down the hall to her room. “Because I was sick. Even though I feel better, I can still have it. You can have some, too, if you want.”
    “Thanks, honey, but—” When she swung into the room, she saw Luke was turned away from the door, sitting back against the pillows. And the room was cold again, so cold that she saw the vapor of her own breath.
    “She went away,” Luke said.
    Something that was more than the cold danced up her spine. “Who went away?”
    “The lady.” His sleepy eyes brightened a bit when he saw the ginger ale. “She stayed with me when you went downstairs.”
    “What lady, Luke? Miss Roz? Hayley?”
    “Nuh-uh. The lady who comes and sings. She’s nice. Can I have all the ginger ale?”
    “You can have some.” Her hands shook lightly as she poured. “Where did you see her?”
    “Right here.” He pointed to the bed, then took the glass in both hands and drank. “This tastes good.”
    “You’ve seen her before?”
    “Uh-huh. Sometimes I wake up and she’s there. She sings the dilly-dilly song.”
    Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly. Lavender’s green . That’s the song she’d heard, Stella realized with a numb fear. The song she’d caught herself humming.
    “Did she—” No, don’t frighten him, she warned herself. “What does she look like?”
    “She’s pretty, I guess. She has yellow hair. I think she’s an angel, a lady angel? ’Member the story about the guard angel?”
    “Guardian angel.”
    “But she doesn’t have wings. Gavin says she’s maybe a witch, but a good one like in Harry Potter .”
    Her throat went desert dry. “Gavin’s seen her too?”
    “Yeah, when she comes to sing.” He handed the glass back to Stella, rubbed his eyes. “My tummy feels better now, but I’m sleepy. Can I still sleep in your bed?”
    “Absolutely.” But before she got into bed with him, Stella turned on the bathroom light.
    She looked in on Gavin, struggled against the urge to pluck him out of his bed and carry him into hers.
    Leaving the connecting doors wide open, she walked back into her room.
    She turned off the bedside lamp, then slid into bed with her son.
    And gathering him close, she held him as he slept.
     
    HE SEEMED FINE THE NEXT MORNING. BRIGHT AND bouncy, and cheerfully told David over breakfast that he’d thrown up and had ginger ale.
    She considered keeping him home from school, but there was no fever and, judging by his appetite, no stomach problems.
    “No ill effects there,” David commented when the boys ran up to get their books. “You, on the other hand, look like you put in a rough one.” He poured her another cup of coffee.
    “I did. And not all of it because Luke was sick. After he ‘frew up,’ he settled down and slept like a baby. But before he settled down, he told me something that kept me awake most of the night.”
    David rested his elbows on the island counter, leaned forward. “Tell Daddy all.”
    “He says ...” She glanced around, cocking an ear so she’d hear the boys when they came back down. “There’s a lady with yellow hair who comes into his room at night and sings to him.”
    “Oh.” He picked up his dishcloth and began to mop the counter.
    “Don’t say ‘oh’ with that silly little smile.”
    “Hey, I’ll have you know this is my amused smirk. Nothing silly about it.”
    “David.”
    “Stella,” he said with the same stern scowl. “Roz told you we have a ghost, didn’t she?”
    “She mentioned it. But there’s just one little problem with that. There are no such things as ghosts.”
    “So, what, some blonde sneaks into the house every night, heads to the boys’ room, and breaks out in song? That’s more plausible?”
    “I don’t know what’s going on. I’ve heard someone singing, and I’ve felt ...” Edgy, she twisted the band of her watch. “Regardless, the idea of a ghost is ridiculous. But something’s going on with my boys.”
    “Is he afraid of her?”
    “No. I probably just imagined the singing. And Luke, he’s six. He can