Spooky Little Girl (20 page)

Lucy nodded.

“Here she is,” Ruby said, pointing to Naunie, who sheepishly grinned. “Her genes must be strong. They’ve surpassed even death. Watch out, the both of you, and don’t get into too much trouble, you hear? I don’t want to have to come back here again!”

They both nodded accordingly.

“All right, then,” Ruby concluded. “I’ll expect you to behave. It was very good to see you again, Lucy. Get your job done quickly. Move outta here.”

And with that, she turned to go.

“Wait,” Lucy said, almost in a panic. “What
is
my job? I just woke up here. I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing. I didn’t get an instruction sheet or anything. What do I need to be doing to get out of here?”

“Oh,” Ruby said, her eyes widening. “I have no idea, Lucy, just like I told you on the last day of school. I don’t decide that. Other forces do. Sometimes, I think, the purpose might be rather obvious, but all assignments are different. It may take some time for you to figure out why you’re here.”

“There has to be a better answer than that!” Lucy scoffed. “Nothing happens here. She watches TV, he works. That’s it. I don’t want to be stuck here forever, trying to figure it out.”

“Oh, dear, you won’t be,” Ruby reassured her. “Whatever it is that you’re supposed to do will present itself. Hopefully.”

“Goodbye, Clovie,” Uncle Howe said as he put a hand on Naunie’s shoulder. “Maybe I’ll see you sometime.”

“Aw, Howe,” Naunie said, patting his hand. “You always did like older women. You hated it when I butchered aged livestock.”

Uncle Howe turned and followed Ruby to the front door, as did Geneva, but not before she leaned in quickly and hissed, “You are a menace!”

“You’re older than the wood of my coffin,” Naunie spat back. “You’ve been dead five lifetimes over!”

That sparked something in Lucy, and without knowing it, she reached forward toward her old teacher.

“Ruby!” she called out, and the hooded figure stopped and turned back around.

“The calendar is different in the kitchen,” she said, pointing behind her. “And Tulip has more gray on her face than I remember, and it’s just starting to get warm again.”

Ruby raised her eyebrows, but didn’t say anything.

“It was just getting warm when this all started,” Lucy explained. “How long has it been? Because I didn’t think it had been that long, but…”

Ruby paused and smiled, then took the hand that had reached out for her robe.

“It’s been nearly a year, Lucy,” she said softly. “You’ve been dead almost a year.”

Lucy stopped for a moment, looking shocked, and then nodded, attempting to take it all in.

Ruby patted her hand in a series of light, quick little taps.

“I know you’re on your way to being a great ghost,” she said, and she smiled. “And I’m betting you were a great girl. You will find what you’re looking for, Lucy.”

Lucy was puzzled by that last comment, even after Ruby had pulled her hand away, turned around, and walked right through the front door, followed by Uncle Howe and Geneva.

Lucy waved goodbye, and then proceeded to give Naunie a grand tour of a house that was no longer hers.

“I am so bored,” Naunie whined as she sat next to Lucy at the end of the sofa with the overzealous spring. Nola sat on the other end, the television blaring, and tears getting ready to spill from her eyes. “This is so boring.”

“I know,” Lucy agreed, mostly to placate her grandmother. Tulip, who was also bored, was spread out between the two of them, Naunie petting her little doggie head and Lucy rubbing her belly. “But look on the bright side; somewhere, some little girl who can only
see with night vision and has a clubfoot is about to get a ruffly canopy bed and a jungle gym in her backyard.”

“This is the dullest haunted house in the history of haunted houses,” the old lady complained. “Nothing happens here. Nobody does anything. All she does is watch TV, and all he does is work, come home, sleep, and then go back to work. It’s a good thing you didn’t marry that loser. Otherwise, this would have been your life instead of your death.”

Lucy shook her head. “He wasn’t like that when I lived here,” she admitted. “He worked a lot, but not like this. We did lots of things together, took Tulip for walks, watched movies, took trips. I don’t think he’s done any of that since I’ve been here now. Maybe they’re shorthanded at work. He’s the manager of the produce department. It’s his job to fill in for anybody that goes on vacation or calls in sick.”

“At least at my house, I had places to go and conduct my own business,” Naunie said, sighing heavily. “I could go to the attic, stomp around up there. I could knock things over in the basement. I could run up and down the stairs! There’s no place for us to go here! What possessed you to agree to live in a ranch style cracker box with a crawl space and a carport? People need to think about these things when they buy houses. Ghosts need a decent work space; otherwise it’s just futile. What a waste of time! This is a ridiculous setup for haunting, and I don’t know how either one of us is going to complete our mission in a house as big as a tent.”

“How am I supposed to complete a mission when I don’t know what it even is?” Lucy asked, raising her voice. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing. I keep waiting for Martin to say he’s lost his keys, or someone’s been locked out of the house, or someone wonders where all the lost socks go. Because
I know. I have them
. But nope. I just sit here, day in, day out, waiting for someone to lose
something, hoping that eventually my mission will present itself, I can attend to it, complete it, and get the hell out of here.”

“Tell me about it,” Naunie agreed. “You know there is fifty thousand dollars stashed in the one wall of my house that the new tenants were not going to knock down? Had they been halfway decent people and retained the house the way it should be, maybe I mighta led them to it. Who knows? But I sure was going to keep that secret to myself as long as they were throwing away and ripping out everything that was mine!”

“What do you mean there was a stash of money in the wall?” Lucy gasped. “How do you know? How did it get there? Did you always know?”

“I had no idea when I was living in the house,” she said. “But afterward, Geneva was always going on and saying how her father had been accused of robbing a payroll stagecoach when she was a girl, and even went on trial for it, but the only witness was a prostitute and they dropped the case.”

“Didn’t Geneva know the money was there?” Lucy asked.

“Nope. She never looked, I guess. As soon as I heard that story, I went through every wall in that house, and sure enough, there was a big old bundle of money bricked up in the wall between the living room and the dining room. Geneva and Howe—that was probably both of their missions all along, to let whoever was living in the house know that the money was there, but those two just didn’t get it.”

“How did you know it was fifty thousand dollars?” Lucy wondered.

“Well, I don’t really, but that’s how much Geneva said was taken from the stagecoach, and she said her father couldn’t have been guilty because sometimes they were so poor they were in danger of the bank taking back the house, and that surely, if her father
had had that kind of money, they would never have been in that predicament.”

“Unless coughing up so much money would surely confirm his role and render him guilty,” Lucy added.

“Exactly,” Naunie agreed. “He couldn’t touch it if he wanted to. So it just sat there. And it’s still there. All of that old currency. It must be worth far more than that now.”

“Just think, it was there the whole time we were growing up,” Lucy pondered. “Why didn’t you give us a sign that the money was there when you found it? Alice could have really used something like that, especially since the divorce.”

“Oh,” Naunie answered, shaking her head. “By the time I got back to the house, the new tenants had moved in. Frankly, I was surprised that one of you girls didn’t keep the house. I would have liked to see another generation of Fishers grow up there.”

“I’m sorry, Naunie,” Lucy said earnestly. “I’m sorry that when you came back we were gone. It wasn’t practical to keep the house. Neither one of us could have afforded to. Alice lives so far away, and I already had this house with Martin. If I only knew then what I know now.”

Naunie sat there for a moment, thinking, it seemed, but she didn’t say anything. A certain kind of sadness passed over her face, but just as quickly, the fire returned to her eyes, signaling the entrance of a terribly wicked thought.

“Let me pinch her,” Naunie said, her harsh gaze concentrated on Nola. “Just one pinch. Maybe two. She won’t even know it’s me. She’ll think it’s a bug or something like that. Just let me liven things up a bit in this joint. One pinch. That’s all I’m asking.”

“No,” Lucy said, shaking her head. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Naunie to pinch Nola, or even that she didn’t want to pinch Nola herself, but she was afraid if she let her cranky grandmother start
dabbling in nonsense, next time it wouldn’t be a pinch. It would be a tug of her hair. After that, it would be a push, and after that, knowing Nola, it would be something that could turn this silly, tiny ranch house haunting into a white light situation.

“Come on,” Naunie urged. “How could you not want to pinch her? She got you fired, she’s living in your house, watching your TV, and now your boyfriend is her boyfriend. Lean over there and just pinch her, Lucy!”

Lucy shook her head. Eventually, at some point in her life, Nola would get hers. And if Lucy was lucky or unlucky enough to be around to see it, she was pretty sure that would be all she’d need.

Lucy was in the kitchen looking over the morning paper that Martin had left out, when she heard a high-pitched, hysterical bloodcurdling scream from down the hall.

“Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God!” Nola shrieked uncontrollably.

“What’s the matter?” Martin called out calmly from the living room, where Lucy could hear he had just picked up his keys and was ready to head out the front door to go to work.

“It’s Tulip!” Nola bellowed. “She—she—she just pushed open the bathroom door, and now I’m
exposed!”

“That’s impossible, Nola. I just put her out,” Martin replied a little drolly.

“I swear to you, Martin, she just pushed that door open and I am sitting here completely showing!” Nola insisted.

Lucy heard Martin take a deep breath and then exhale.

“Nola, I’m leaving for work right now, and after I’m gone, there
will be no one left in the house,” he assured her. “Even Tulip can’t see you. Compose yourself, get a towel, and then shut the door so you can preserve your modesty.”

“OW!” Nola replied shrilly. “Something just bit me! OW! Ouch! I think we have fleas, Martin! I think that dog has fleas!”

The vibration of the front door closing rattled a framed picture in the hallway.

Lucy chuckled slightly grinning. “Naunie!” she called out. “Get in here and stop pinching her!”

“But it’s so much fun,” she heard her grandmother protest. “Her rump is so fleshy and pinchable! It’s like bread dough!”

“Ow!” Nola cried again. “Mar-tin! Martin! We’re going to need to spray this weekend!”

Naunie strolled into the kitchen with a spring in her step.

“I’m sick of hanging around this dump,” she said matter-of-factly. “I have a fantastic idea.”

“You’ve been here for a day and a half,” Lucy said, not even raising her eyes from the paper. “Let Tulip back in first.”

Naunie swung the door open, and Tulip slowly trotted in. Lucy had noticed she was slowing down a bit, but it made sense with the gray on her muzzle. She was getting up there, and for an old girl, it was time to relax. Tulip nestled herself tightly next to Lucy, panting happily, and looking content.

“Whaddya think,” Naunie whispered tauntingly, “about going to work with her? Huh? Whaddya say? Change of scenery, change of pace, and you’d get to see your friends? Just catch a ride with Roly-Poly-Noly and we’re as good as gold.”

“I don’t know,” Lucy hedged. “I’m not so sure I should let you out in the open to roam wild and free just yet.”

“Oh, come on!” Naunie pouted. “Where’s my free-spirited granddaughter, huh? The one who used to make me stay up all
night waiting for her to come home? The one who could not have too much fun? Where is that girl?”

Naunie playfully punched Lucy in the shoulder.

“Where is that girl?” Naunie said again, delivering another punch.

“A bus turned her into a free-spirited rug because she wasn’t looking where she was going,” Lucy retorted. “Apparently, when the wheels stopped, I was simply a pelt and so much so that I didn’t even get a burial. I just got incinerated like a leftover pot roast.”

“Whatever,” Naunie scoffed. “I had a stroke on a pink toilet. Uncle Howe ended up as meat loaf in the middle of a cornfield. Big deal. Who cares. If it’s a beautiful memory you’re after, stay alive. How you died isn’t who you were, Lucy. Because you’re still that person. Your body wasn’t so fortunate in the end, but I hate to tell you, it wasn’t your body that I loved. It was you. And you’re still here. So let’s go to work with our hostess and tear some shit up.”

Lucy burst out laughing. She couldn’t help it.

Even if they couldn’t see her, she would still love to see Jilly and Marianne, she thought, and it might be good to have a change of scenery.

“You’d better hurry up and make up your mind,” Naunie warned. “Nola’s already on her third coat of foundation. It won’t be long before she leaves. She just has to wax and buff her face now like the front end of a Buick.”

As Tulip nuzzled against her leg, Lucy petted her loyal friend, and laughed when she found a little bump on Tulip’s front leg.

“Oh, Tulip,” she gushed into her dog’s deep cocoa-brown eyes. “I won’t love you any less, because they can’t bite me, but I think you really might have fleas!”

Lucy kept petting Tulip as she thought about Naunie’s idea. The thought of seeing her friends again made Lucy incredibly happy. She wondered if they had changed much, if they had thought about
her often. The thought, although fleeting, even crossed her mind that maybe they had a memorial—a tiny, tiny,
tiny
one with just a couple of pictures, some flowers, a burning candle—dedicated to her somewhere in the office to make up for being no-shows at her funeral. In a nook, by the coffee machine, or maybe on the counter in reception. After a moment, she laughed at herself heartily, as if Nola would ever allow that. Just the thought of seeing Jilly and Marianne lightened Lucy’s mood up considerably.