The Ghost Girl - Episode 30

SONNY WALKER

Illustration By Carlos Uribe

Illustration By Carlos Uribe

Isaiah and Ishmael rolled the two carts ashore and up the mud and stones to a lightly paved road extending along the shoreline. Immediately beyond lay a row of cottages with occasional low sheds that served as garages for small boats. The land soon became a steep hillside that rose to a flat plateau. Abby studied the landscape with passionate interest. This was the land of her childhood, seen only twice over the past decade, and not at all for six years. She watched a solitary figure moving along a path that wound its way down from the plateau. A man of medium height, very lean and dark skinned, came toward them. From his straight, firm posture Abby instantly recognized Sonny Walker. He waved and called to Isaiah and Ishmael, who waited for him. Cali and Sara were standing to the side in animated conversation, planning an event for the evening. Pastor Banks helped Sharon tidy up the boat and move it to the crowded dock. Abby felt very shy, and stood alone on the muddy ground.
Sonny turned and called her to join them. She felt close to tears. Somehow she had not anticipated so happy and emotional a moment. Sonny hugged her, complimented her appearance and her new reputation, and then gave news about the farm and the progress they had made since Abby learned there as a child. She realized that Sonny must be in his seventies, yet to her he looked the same as he was eight or ten years ago.
“Pecan trees, peanuts, two varieties of finger beans, a dozen revivals of the apples of the old days!” Sonny told her. “A new compost area producing our own biogas. Eight thriving bee colonies. Goats, a hundred chickens and a few milk cows on the West Isle.” Abby’s happiness beamed from her eyes and wide smile.
“You probably know these things already,” Sonny went on in a more confidential tone. “From what I hear, you should be teaching me!”
“You’re just being nice,” she replied. “I’m so eager to see what you’ve done! Do we have time for a visit now?” Sonny turned to Cali and said, “Abby and I will head up to the shanty. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Julia is at the Open Gate. Please tell her that her daughter is here.”
“Ah, of course!” Cali and Sara followed the group along the road up toward the bridge.
“Where’s my Dad?” asked Abby.
“He’s at the other end of the farm. I’ll tell Chris to bring him.”
The path climbed back and forth up the hillside. As the land leveled off they passed a small chicken coop and rows of tomatoes and basil. Just ahead, apple trees, corn and amaranth grew tall and blocked Abby’s view of the long field that covered most of the plateau. In a few more steps she saw Sonny’s cabin – what he called the shanty – looking neat and trim. “Solar panels! New door, windows, and siding!” she exclaimed. They entered into a combination kitchen, study, and bedroom, with a small second room to one side. The space was tiny but well organized. Light entered from windows on three sides. A man sat in front of a laptop computer at table running along one wall. He was surrounded by files, notebooks, a bookshelf, and an out of date telephone. Sonny introduced them, and Chris stood up to shake hands. He looked at her with obvious curiosity. “So you’re Abby! He said. “I heard you were on your way. It’s a pleasure to meet you!”
She had never seen Chris before, and was surprised that he had heard about her. He looked about thirty years old, with long messy light brown hair, and pale skin. He seemed frail, under-nourished. Abby thought he should go out in the sun and get some exercise.
Sonny put a kettle on the biogas stove. “Take a break, Chris. Let’s have some Breakfast Mixture together, and then you can walk up to the west end and bring Abby’s father back.
Soon they sat sipping tea at a small table just outside the door.

The Ghost Girl - Episode 27

THE RIVER QUEEN

Illustration By Carlos Uribe

Illustration By Carlos Uribe

As the community council meeting ended and people began to depart, Abby heard a familiar gruff voice behind her: “Do you have a moment?”
She turned to see Sammy smiling at her.
“I thought I might see you here,” he said, and handed her an envelope. “I calculate twenty hours of work… I hope that’s okay, we made a lot of money the nights you worked, and please, come and work at the coffee shop tomorrow if you can.”
“Oh!” she said in surprise, feeling the rather thick envelope. “What a relief! I’m broke right now. Thank you, thank you!” She gave him a hug.
“Let me know your plans, we’re reopening tomorrow.”
“Oh, I wish I could, but I’ll be gone for a day or two visiting my parents in Rivergate. But I’ll come by Thursday or Friday.”
“Don’t take too long now,” he said, and moved off to talk to Stephanie.
Phoebe pulled Abby to the side where they could not be overheard. “Please,” she said, “find out all you can about the real reason for this ‘relocation business’ Pastor Banks was talking about. The state and the corporations, what’s in it for them? I have a guess about that… something we should discuss.”
Abby stared into space for a moment and looked back at Phoebe. “Ah, you’re quick. I can guess too. I’ll get right back to you.”

The following morning early Abby rushed to pack a few things for her journey to Rivergate. It occurred to her that the watchers would certainly notice her departure, and could take the opportunity to search her cottage overnight. The lock on the front door was virtually worthless. The only thing among her few possessions that might interest the Morphy organization was her collection of seeds, so on her way out Abby stopped by Reverend Tuck’s office. He was fine with her plan to visit her parents, and took the bag of seeds to hold overnight. As Abby headed out the gate she noticed the eyes of two men on her. “Okay,” she thought. “I was right. They’ll follow me and see me leave in the boat.” She had to bite her tongue to keep from looking behind her. Like a soldier she marched down toward Main Street, and from a distance saw a group in front of the garden center. Isaiah, Pastor Banks, Ishmael, Cali, and Alison were already standing amid their bags and a wagon of some kind. “There’s my girl!” exclaimed Isaiah. She received hugs all around. 
One of those new super-compact cars sped into the parking lot and came to a stop, skidding on the gravel. Out jumped Sara Williams carrying a huge canvas bag, and ran over to the group. “Just on time,” said Isaiah. “Okay everyone, we’re off. Thank you again, Alison, you’re the best!” Pushing the wagon like an oversize shopping cart, he led the group across the street and down a path to the river’s edge. A few feet of open ground sloped down to the water, and a fair sized boat was aground there, it’s bow wedged into the mud. 
“The River Queen!” yelled Cali, and ran forward. “Sharon!” A tall dark skinned woman in a long-sleeved tee shirt and jeans stood there holding the bow line. Abby noticed she wore a cap identical to Cali’s, with the words Black Hills on the front.
The bow of the boat did not come a point, but formed a flat ramp that Sharon had lowered to the ground, enabling Isaiah to push the cart aboard. Everyone followed and sat on the side benches. Sharon raised the ramp, pushed the boat out into the river, and jumped aboard. In a moment the boat was heading upstream, hugging the shoreline where the current was slow. Soon they passed under the arch of the Main Street Bridge, struggling against the fast water, and then hugged the shoreline again. The branches of willow trees dripped right down to the river, forcing them to duck as they glided through. Pastor Banks sat behind the wheel with Sharon while Isaiah and Ishmael sat on a bench working on the lyrics to a song. Abby and Sara joined Cali leaning against the flat bow of the boat. Cali never took her eyes off the river ahead, and was constantly warning Sharon about floating branches, rocks, unusual currents,and oncoming boats. Abby studied the shoreline and was amazed by the high water, running over the bank and sweeping away anything in its path. They passed small boats on the way, shooting downstream in the center of the current. A man in a canoe yelled out, “Fallen tree, branches, hole on the right! Go left! Left!” In a second he was gone downstream. Cali stopped talking and focused on the water ahead.

The Ghost Girl - Episode 26

THE GROUP HEARS OF THE THREE FURIES

Illustration By Carlos Uribe

Illustration By Carlos Uribe

It seemed that the meeting was about to end, when suddenly Tom Winkle stood up and addressed the group. “Please, everyone, before we all depart I want to mention something that concerns us all. As a member of what is usually called our Church Council – really the elected Board of Trustees – I want to let you know that we have officially approved of Abby’s position as church gardener.” People clapped and shouted congratulations.
“And in case you’re not aware of it,” he continued, “our long-time friend Jean Garrison is planning to get married and retire from the Church Council in the middle of August, less than two weeks from now. We need a candidate to step forward and run for her position as trustee. I can’t tell you how important it is to elect someone who supports our effort. You should be aware that the Church Council has only seven members, and its decisions are binding on all of us unless overruled by our bishop, Richard Beckett.”
The group looked at Tom Winkle in surprise.
“He’s right,” said Geraldine with a weary sigh, as if she could hardly stand to discuss it. “Fred Peterson and I are also members of the Council, and have been surprised by our friend Jean’s sudden announcement. Of course we are very happy for her, and will host a party for her on Sunday August 2nd. But we want you to understand that a new trustee will have to be elected the following Sunday.”
No one spoke.
Abby was thinking, “Ah ha! The nightmare monster appears, terrifying the town.”
The silence went on. Finally Terrence Williams said, “Please forgive my questions, but I’m new here and need to understand how this works. Geraldine, I see that you and Fred and Tom are three of the trustees, and one member is leaving, so… who are the other three?”
Again there was silence. Abby noticed Tuck looking at the floor. He had grown pale, and picked nervously at his fingernails. Geraldine was clearly reluctant to reply, and looked anxiously to Tuck for help, but he would not meet her eyes.
“The other three members of the Board?” Geraldine finally said. “Yes, well… their names are Wilma Owens, Laura Irving, and Betty Palmer.”
Chester Peterson – Fred’s brother, who had been unusually quiet all evening – suddenly muttered sarcastically, “Meet the Three Furies of Middletown…”
Nervous laughter rippled across the group, and people looked to Geraldine for a reply.
“It is true,” she said, “that they disagree with many of the recent decisions of the Council.”
“To say the least,” added Chester.
“Okay…” said Terrence, “thanks for giving us a picture. But I have no idea who these people are – these are just names to me. I gather they are not here at this meeting.”
People noticed that Tuck had raised his head and was looking carefully at the group. “I think it’s getting late,” he said, in a voice so quiet that people had to be silent and listen. “There are children looking tired. We’ll discuss these things after this meeting for those who wish to stay. I’m just glad we’ve come so far in one evening… Okay, that’s it for tonight. Thanks to you all.”
Abby felt as if dark clouds had suddenly covered the sun, promising a storm on the way. The groups’s mood had changed dramatically over the last part of the conversation. People spoke privately in hushed tones, or gathered up their children to quickly depart. Tuck sat alone, approached by no one.
But Phoebe seemed unaffected by the change, and was surrounded by young volunteers, eager to meet on the coming Friday evening there in the church basement. She promised to hand out invitations on church stationary to all young people needing them for their parents. Sara Williams, Cali, and the band decided to begin their committees as part of Phoebe’s group. The spirit of the young people seemed to rise in defiance of the gloom of the adults.

The Ghost Girl - Episode 25

THE COUNCIL MAKES A PLAN

Illustration By Carlos Uribe

Illustration By Carlos Uribe

Suddenly Shannon, captain of Phoebe’s soccer team, raised her voice. “Hey everyone! I’m only fourteen, but Reverend Tuck invited us, so can I say something?”
“Please!” replied Tuck. “Let’s hear it!”
Quiet settled over the group. Shannon managed to get a few words out. “Well… you know, we’ve said a lot of things so far, but what are we actually going to do? My friends and I want to do stuff, get a chance to be somebody…”
“She’s right,” boomed Fred Peterson. “It’s late, and we don’t want to lose this chance to get organized. Sammy, what do you suggest? For many of us older folks wanting some changes, you’ve been our hero. How did you get the new energy going?”
Sammy looked up at the crowd and thought for a second. “Mmmm… well, mainly I just wanted to do it. I’m an old man, and want to do something to be proud of before I die. So I took some risks, and Gilligan did too, with the concerts, the greenmarket, the soccer field, giving the kids leadership to do things. I’m a careful man, but I thought to myself, I’m being a little too careful, too afraid, and time is going by. Phoebe helped me get started. And then other young people jumped in, and pretty soon they had this whole new world going on before our eyes.”
“I get it,” replied the old farmer. “So Phoebe, say something. You’re kind of famous now, and deserve every bit of it. We’re glad to see you here and staying out of trouble.”
Abby was thinking, ‘Yes, yes! Now we’re going to get this moving!’
Phoebe stood up, looking much better than a few days before. Her bruises were only visible from close up, with small bandages covering the stitches. “Well,” she said, “I’m not any sort of expert, but one thing I do know: It’s so much better to work than sit around feeling depressed.”
Everyone smiled. All were quiet, waiting for more.
“People have made great suggestions, and I think we just need to put them together. What if we run fairs on Saturdays in the churchyard? It will take us a couple of weeks to get ready, and then we could run five or six fairs before it gets cold. Each one could be a benefit for the causes we’ve talked about so far. The first one could be for Rivergate, the second for fixing up the church building, the third about the movement to stop climate change, the fourth maybe a harvest festival.”
Isaiah had been whispering to Ishmael, George, and Eddy, and then he said, “Our band will play for free. We hope we can bring a large audience to the fairs.”
“We want jobs,” said Shannon, and the other teenagers clapped and made loud remarks.
Phoebe jumped back in, saying, “Are you all aware that the concerts and the greenmarket are banned from the toy store and the coffee shop? I’m not sure why that is -- probably complaints from the usual group -- but it sure fits in with our plans for the churchyard. The greenmarket and the concerts need a new place to open. But it won’t work unless everyone helps to make these events big, really crowded. We can’t count on large donations, so we need lots of people. And that’s our strength.”
“I volunteer Phoebe to lead the Youth Council,” declared Shannon. “And I’ll help her.”

The Ghost Girl - Episode 23

PLAIN TALK ABOUT THE PROBLEMS WE FACE

15894824_1348398485201345_1124862695503512742_n.jpg

Reverend Tuck gave thanks to the band and said he hoped to see them again often. Soon the crowd resumed their seats, waiting for the discussion to begin. People began whispering questions and comments to each other, and the murmuring spread around the circle. Finally, tall bearded Fred Peterson, standing with his wife outside the circle, spoke like a prophet come in from the wilderness:
“I agree with all that has been said so far. But the devil is in the details, so I’d like to risk some plain talk about the problems we face.”
The murmuring stopped.
“I think many of you are wondering why these floods are growing all along the Half Moon Valley, and why Rivergate and many other places are so vulnerable. I’d also like to give my opinion on why our church school building has been abandoned and needs repair, and what we can do to fix these problems.”
The tall farmer had their attention.
“I have relatives in Rivergate, and have studied the weather like any farmer for forty years, and I can tell you that our weather patterns have changed. The warm wind from the south brings a lot more moisture up into the forest preserve, and these storms and thunderheads are pushed west along the barrier of the Half Moon Cliffs toward the wetlands. Sometimes these storms come right over into Middletown, but mostly the clouds veer off into the wetlands, hit the cooler air from the north, and leave their moisture there. Yes, we got a bad storm here last Saturday, but it rained four times that amount up the Snake and Half Moon rivers. I drove some of my workers back to the trailer park yesterday, and Highway 71 was closed as trucks brought in tons of gravel to protect the edge of the highway from the rising water. I hear over the radio that streets in Evansville and River City were flooded on Monday. So the rising water affects the entire valley. The people with money and organization, such as our state government and the large corporations, have for years been pretending that this problem is simply not happening, or will somehow go away. But as they just said in the song, ‘one of these days that water’s gonna flow in here'.”
The crowd gave this speech a round of applause, but Fred Peterson wasn’t finished yet.
“And I’ve got one more thing to say. It used to be that the fortunate and wealthy families in Half Moon and Middletown generously supported our church and its building maintenance, its programs, and its charity to the needy. But that support has diminished over the years. And now – as our campaign to fight climate change grows – the rich and their supporters are running their own campaign to boycott donations to this church. We can expect that boycott to continue as long as we insist that climate change is an urgent moral issue for us all. And I say to you, do not expect help from the wealthy for either our church or for Rivergate. That group thinks people in Rivergate County should just move away, the sooner the better, and they hope that our minister here and folks like me would disappear as well.”
Fred Peterson took a deep breath. “We’ve seen this struggle coming for years, and most of us have been afraid to say publicly what we all know to be the case. But I think those days are over. We’ve got to take action now just to survive and live with our own consciences… Thanks for your attention, I’m here to help in any way I can.”
The farmer towered over the circle, his face both serious and sad.
“Hear! Hear!” shouted someone, amidst the clapping and cheers.

The Ghost Girl - Episode 22

THUNDER ROLLING

15723581_1328083743899486_7294317451366557124_o.jpg

“Thank you to everyone!” Pastor Banks said. “I’ve promised you some music before we open our discussion, so let’s hear it!”
The crowd gave another round of applause, as George walked over to Isaiah and Ishmael and plugged in the cord from his guitar. Isaiah made a spooky rattling sound with his tambourine, and nodded to Ishmael, who began to play a rolling melody on the bass notes. Isaiah looked at the crowd and spoke, his voice flowing with the music, saying: “We share more than we can ever know, so here we go!” Ishmael played the riff with greater volume. George joined in with some lead notes. Isaiah sang:

I woke up this morning it was dark bout half past three
A thousand miles of thunder clouds was hanging over me
You can say what you want, but a mighty wind is gonna blow
I don’t think it’s gonna stop just cause we say so

Batten down the hatches close the shutters lock the doors
Lightning’s gonna flash thunder’s gonna roar
I think we all hear that rumbling sound
Go out and listen, take a good look around

We see the water risen from the rivers and shores
Don’t think it’s gonna stop, it’s gonna rise some more
I hope you all hear me, hear me loud and clear
One of these days that water’s gonna roll in here

Ishmael took over with a guitar solo, and then Isaiah sang again, almost as a rap:

Tornados run across the plains, the hurricanes bring rain insane
The waves are sweepin over the land, who knows how long we can stand?
They tell me I’m makin it up, that I’m imagining things
But what’s that in the distance? Sounds like thunder rolling
Thunder rolling
Thunder rollinnnggg!
THUNDER ROLLINNGG!
THUNDER ROLLINNNNGGG!

The guitars and tambourine brought the song to a swift and smashing end. The audience looked stunned for a moment and then began to clap, and finally stood up and cheered. The musicians looked around the circle, surprised by the enthusiasm, and took a bow.

The Ghost Girl - Episode 21

PASTOR BANKS SPEAKS TO THE COUNCIL

Illustration By Carlos Uribe

Illustration By Carlos Uribe

“Ladies and gentlemen!” declared Reverend Tuck in a loud voice. People broke off their conversations and found seats in a circle. “Tonight we are inviting our whole community – really everyone who wants to work with us – to take part in planning and running a series of activities and fundraising events in our churchyard. Pastor Banks and her sons are with us to present the emergency needs in Rivergate, and we here in Middletown have pressing needs as well. We plan to create events, raise money, and make a real contribution to our community and our world.”
“That’s a big agenda for a little ragtag bunch like us,” said Tom Winkle. “Let’s get to the practical stuff.”
Tuck smiled and looked around the circle. “I promise not to waste your time! Let me start by introducing Pastor Banks.”

People clapped and turned their eyes to the pastor. She was already standing, tall and elegant and formal. “I’m happy to be here,” she began, “and grateful to see so many people of good will. We want to express our support and admiration to all of you for making the struggle against climate change a moral commitment for this church. Some of you are probably aware that our town has been threatened over the last few years by the rising water levels in of the rivers and the wetlands. Rivergate is on the other side of the highway, virtually an island between the Half Moon and Snake rivers, accessible by car only over the Snake River Bridge. That bridge has been closed since early Sunday morning. Basic maintenance of the bridge has been neglected for years, and now the river has damaged the supports for the bridge on both sides. Our state officials are finding ways to avoid paying for repairs, and this dispute will go on for months.

The pastor paused and made eye contact with many in the audience, and resumed in a louder voice: “But I want you to understand that our primary problem is not with the bridge and the repairs. We’ve seen the flooding coming and have already made adjustments, difficult though they may be. We can survive while we pressure the state over the funding. The emergency that brings us here tonight is the effort by our state government and several large corporations, to force us to abandon our homes in Rivergate and the surrounding islands. Such a tragedy would involve breaking up our community and scattering to any shelter people can find. The governor has suggested that the state pay nothing for the bridge, but spend money helping us ‘relocate’. He calls this a ‘humanitarian solution’. We know they are motivated by other reasons that they do not wish to discuss. And now this damage to the bridge is their ideal excuse to move us out. But I am here to say that our community will fight any effort to force us off our land.”

Pastor Banks paused again to look around the room. There was total silence as people waited for her to continue: 
“I’m not here to ask any one to feel sorry for us, though there is a long and painful history of injustice and ‘relocations’ that our ancestors have endured over hundreds of years. But we do need your help in crucial ways, and you need ours just as much. It is time now for us to be partners, and agree that in the long run we are in the same boat. Our whole world is threatened, and though we may survive, our children and our children’s children may not. ‘Relocations’ due to climate change are already occurring for millions of people, and who knows who may be next. So we hope to work together, doing things that may at times seem small, but millions of small things will make a better world that we will pass on to our children, knowing we have done our best.”
Pastor Banks bowed her head.
“Yes, yes!” came the deep voice of Fred Peterson. The crowd began to clap and cheer.

The Ghost Girl - Episode 20

THE COMMUNITY COUNCIL BEGINS

Illustration By Carlos Uribe

Illustration By Carlos Uribe

On his way out the door Police Chief Santiago told Abby, Phoebe, Reverend Tuck, and Geraldine that there was a bright side to recent events. “You’ll be glad to hear that the toy store and the coffee shop will reopen soon, perhaps even tomorrow. The Department of Health has ruled that neither store is a danger to the public, or has done anything illegal.”
They clapped and cheered. “However,” the Chief went on, “they will not allow the greenmarket in the courtyard or the concerts in the coffee shop to continue, due to complaints from the public… so called. It’s not like the town voted. But there you have it. I know you have a church meeting coming up, so I’ll be on my way. Please give my regrets, I’d love to stay, but some people may get the wrong idea. You understand.” In a moment he was out the door.
Geraldine was the first to speak: “Thank God for Daniel Santiago, a real public servant. I love that man… you know what I mean.” Abby and Phoebe laughed. Tuck took a deep breath and reminded them anxiously that they had another complicated meeting coming up. “We probably have guests from Rivergate in the basement already,” he said.
They followed him down to the large recreation room, and could hear the voices of a crowd from a distance. On entering Abby saw a dozen people she knew at a glance. Isaiah Banks was nearby talking to a young woman in a baseball cap. He quickly pulled Abby aside and said, “There’s something you should know right away. Join us, Cali! Meet Abby and tell her your news.”
Abby recalled Isaiah’s habit of being everyone’s parent or uncle or older brother, even for people twice his age. He had a kind of charisma Abby remembered from her childhood, the ability to bring people together and reach out to those needing help. “He must be 25 now, and probably organized this meeting,” Abby thought. She hadn’t seen him for eight years.
Cali barely came up to the tall, thin Isaiah’s shoulder. She had short hair and a multi-colored baseball cap with the words BLACK HILLS written on the front. “Okay!” Cali burst out. “So I was leaving the house today and got introduced to the new people who’ve taken one of the rooms, and they are your parents!” Abby stared, speechless with relief. “They looked fine and everything,” Cali reassured her. “We talked for a few minutes.”
“But how do you know they’re my parents?”
“Because Sonny introduced them and said they are.”
“Sonny Walker? Are they living with him?”
“Well, sort of. Sonny takes care of a couple of houses near his land. He organizes people to clean them up and let’s people move in. It’s kind of a shared situation. Sonny grows food, they share a kitchen, like that. But Sonny doesn’t live there, he sleeps in the shanty.
“Oh! Thank you, thank you!” Abby clapped her hands. “I’ve got to visit right away.”
Abby embraced Cali, who smiled and blushed.
“They asked me to speak to you,” Cali went on. “They had tears when Sonny said you’re here at the church.”
“I’ve got to see them! How did you all get here tonight?”
Cali and Isaiah looked at each other. “The Snake River Bridge is closed as of two days ago,” Isaiah said. “We had to take the boat.”
“The boat! To Middletown? Oh! Tell me about it.”
“Well,” Isaiah continued, “it seems like Sonny foresaw all this flooding, because his daughter and him went to River City a few weeks ago and bought a used river launch, a flat bottomed old aluminum boat with a decent motor. You remember his daughter Sharon – she’s right over there – always a nut about boats and fishing and exploring the swamp. When the high water came she started taking ten people to their jobs Middletown and Half Moon and back in the evening. She brings supplies too. A lot of other people have been ferrying three or four customers at a time across the Snake to the highway ramp.”
“Wow,” said Abby, a little dazed. “I shouldn’t be so surprised. This problem has been growing for years. They’re always moving the docks to higher ground.”
“At first,” Isaiah said, “it just seemed like us poor folks in ‘Swamptown’, as they call us, were getting the short end of the stick again. But then we realized that this is a bigger problem… it includes everyone! That’s our message here tonight.”
“We can all see it more clearly now,” Abby said. “Can I come back to Rivergate with you tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Isaiah replied. “It costs $10, but we got you covered.”

The Ghost Girl - Episode 19

A WARNING FROM THE CHIEF

Illustration By Carlos Uribe

Illustration By Carlos Uribe

By 4:30 Abby was knocking on Tuck’s door, and he opened right away. “I was just coming to get you,” he said. “This has become a bigger meeting than I thought. Chief Santiago brought Geraldine and Phoebe with him. They’re up in my office already.”
“Oh boy,” thought Abby. “Here we go. Why can’t things just calm down a little.”
Chief Santiago was already seated at the head of the conference table, with Dr. Bear and Phoebe on either side. They all rose for a warm hello with shaking of hands and hugs.
“Well, It’s nice to see you folks recovering,” said Chief Santiago. “As you know, it’s my job to clear up unanswered questions about the incident at the abandoned house. I think I’m aware of the basic sequence of events. Abby was living in that house, the mob arrives, Phoebe steps in to fight off a few people bearing burning logs or branches, Abby and Phoebe confront the mob, and then Tuck, Dr. Bear, and Jeremy arrive and the mob flees. Driving up the dirt road, I see their back as they run into the forest. Everyone agree with that?”
The chief looked around the table, and everyone nodded. He turned on a small pocket recorder. Abby wished this meeting were over already. “Now the surprising thing,” the chief continued, “is that not one of you has named or described any of that mob so far. Well, it’s time to go on the record. I’ll be recording this interview unless any of you wish to object. All right with you? Here we go then.”
He began by questioning Tuck and Geraldine, who both replied that they arrived in the dark only to see a crowd with torches on the lawn. The wind was gusting hard and the light was bad, and they could not be sure of recognizing anyone.
The chief then turned to Abby. She described peeking out the door and calling Phoebe to join her and flee through the back of the house. It was only at the last minute when she was sure that Phoebe would stand her ground that she stepped out, and the crowd was far back at that point.
“I’ve left you for last,” Tuck told Phoebe. “You had the best chance to see who was there. You followed them all the way from the church. You confronted them for, what?... At least ten minutes? Who was there?”
Abby was surprised by Phoebe’s composure. In a calm voice she explained that she had to follow the mob at a distance in complete darkness. The storm clouds had blanketed the moon and stars. She only stepped onto the porch when the house was threatened, and people backed away when she appeared ready to swing a heavy branch. Yes, she admitted, she did swing at one man carrying a burning log onto the porch, and yes, she thought she recognized voices and shapes in the shifting light. But she could not be certain, and would not swear by it. A court of law, she noted, is not the place to be guessing.
Chief Santiago was twisting the end of his grey moustache as he turned off the recorder. Wrinkles fanned out from the corners of his eyes as he squinted at the group. “Now if you don’t mind,” he said, “I’d like to give you some advice… No, more like a warning. Needless to say I don’t believe some portions of your testimony – now don’t interrupt!” He held up his palm and looked them in the eye. “I’m not asking for information, or trying to change anyone’s story. I regard you all as friends of mine, and I worry about your safety.”
He looked around the table again. They sat back in silence. “Yes, I do worry,” he continued. “And not only about you, but about all of us. The situation in this town – and in this state and country as a whole – resembles a cold war. It breaks out into violence only occasionally, but it’s heating up. And it’s a war between David and Goliath. When law enforcement and justice fail, the strong usually rule. They take advantage to the situation to get whatever they want. And the weak sufer, and lose what ever they have that the strong want. A billion dollars can buy a lot of power and privilege.”
He let this sink in. “So what’s my point?” he asked. “Just this: you’re all serious risks here. You’ve placed this battle beyond the reach of justice, and that means you’re on your own. Oh, I know you have your reasons, and they may be justified. But I hope you’ve got a plan and the ability to follow through. It’s not going to be easy.”
The chief waited for a moment in silence. “I don’t want to leave you with the impression that it’s just you. We’re all taking risks, all the time. Life is one big risk, but especially now.” He paused. “Any comments?”
No one replied.

The Ghost Girl - Episode 17

IN REVEREND TUCK’S OFFICE

Illustration By Lawrence Tate

Illustration By Lawrence Tate

After Jeremy’s departure Abby made another nut butter and honey sandwich and drank a cup of Breakfast Mixture, hot and full of the flavor of bitter chocolate and mint. She realized that Tuck should know as soon as possible about their decision to refuse to press charges and appear in court over the assault on Phoebe and Abby at the haunted house.
“And I’ll call my parents too,” she thought. She had tried several times over the last two days to reassure them that she was okay, but had received no answer. In fact she hadn’t spoken to them for months, and her feelings of guilt -- and her constant self-criticism -- had been increasing every day.
Abby knocked on Tuck’s door for almost five minutes and was about to leave when he finally appeared. “Sorry,” he said. “I was in the middle of a phone call. What’s up?”
“I need to use the phone too,” she replied.”
“Get a cell phone as soon as you can. We have reception now all the way to the forest. That new Phones and More store on Main Street sells decent used phones.”
In Tuck’s office Abby sat behind his desk and looked out the window. The same two men lounged on a bench in front of the Middletown Standard office across the street. “They must be Morphy’s watchers,” she thought. “Are they really observing the churchyard 24/7? It’s hard to believe… this conflict is still heating up!”
“Reverend Tuck,” Abby said suddenly, “I need to tell you something.”
“Yes?” he said, taking a seat opposite her.
“I’ve been thinking it over, and I really can’t be certain who the men were – you know, the ones carrying the torches Saturday night. The light was crazy, and I was back behind the front door until the very end. And you should know that Geraldine and Phoebe can’t be sure either. I just don’t think Chief Santiago can bring any charges unless there’s some new development.”
“Well, well,” returned Tuck, “You young folks certainly know how to pick your battles.” He smiled. “Don’t forget, I was there too, and I can’t be sure who was there either.”
“And there’s more news I want to tell you,” Abby went on. “I hear that Phoebe and George and Jeremy – and probably Stephanie and Eddy and others – are coming to this council meeting tomorrow night. They want to join as permanent members with me, and we already have ideas.”
“I’m thrilled to hear it! But about these ideas… can I get any advance warning?”
“We’d like to plan fund-raising events for the church and Rivergate both. Maybe a series of festivals with music, food, children’s games, and a tour of the work going on in the churchyard once it’s ready for an audience.”
Tuck was speechless for a moment, and then exclaimed, “This is exactly what we need! We – meaning this church – need help even more than you know. Our finances have been an impossible challenge over the last five years. The Sunday offering pays only a fraction of our yearly budget. We depend upon grants and donations from the very wealthy for the rest. And you may be aware that people with money don’t like us. We usually don’t share the same goals.”
“But that’s what we all admire,” Abby said. “Your courage in the face of the powerful. We’re just copying you.”
Tuck laughed. “We’ll work together,” he said.
Abby dialed her parents’ number, and was answered by a voice recording. She gave Tuck a look of dismay. “It’s no longer a working number,” she told him. “I guess they’ve moved or something.” Her eyes shifted vacantly around the room, seeing nothing.
“I’ll help you,” returned Tuck, trying to make eye contact. “Don’t worry, I’ll find a forwarding address in a hurry. I’ve got the phone numbers and emails of hundreds of people. Promise me you won’t brood over this. I’ll speak to you as soon as I have news.”
Abby walked back to the cottage deep in thought. She lay down and stared into space.

The Ghost Girl - Episode 15

THE THREE MAKE A PLAN

Illustration By Carlos Uribe

Illustration By Carlos Uribe

A rushing noise came from a distance, and then the trees swayed in the wind. Wispy clouds passed over the moon. The weather was changing.
“I’m glad you’re coming out so strong!” Phoebe told Abby. “We’ll all follow you. By the way, Jeremy and Stephanie and Eddie already begged me to avoid the whole mess. They say the most expensive lawyer always wins. And I’ve certainly got other things I want to do! We need to reopen the toy store and the coffee shop and the soccer fields, and get some kind of leadership going on around here. People actually look up to us! They follow what we’re doing. We have a responsibility.” Her voice scraped and cracked from the constant whispering. Abby’s heart went out to her, expressing such emotion with her face still black and blue.

“And I’m going to need your help,” whispered Abby. “We’re beginning a new campaign at the community council meeting on Tuesday. It’s more important than you know… there’s dangerous issues just two weeks down the road. Please come.”
“We already plan to be there,” George replied. “All of us. And I know Ishmael Banks – the pastor’s son – from hanging around the Half Moon Music Center. He’s the best guitarist I’ve ever heard, and he’s younger than me. And they’ve got a mission too. The bridge to their town is flooded out!”
Abby leaned forward and whispered, “I need your help on one more problem.”
“Tell us,” returned George. “What can we do?”
“Tuck doesn’t let me out of here yet, so I need someone to go to the haunted house for me. I could sneak out but that house will be watched and I’ll be followed. But I need a few things that are hopefully still there. On the second floor in the room just to the right of the stairs there’s a hole in the sheet rock. Reach along the wall to your left and you’ll find a backpack full of small packets of seeds. I need them very, very badly.”
“Got it,” replied George, taking notes.
“And if you’ll reach back there to the right you’ll feel my guitar in a canvas case. I need that too.”
“You play guitar?” asked George in amazement.
“A little bit,” Abby shyly replied. “Just for myself. But I’ll show you sometime.”
“That would be… I mean I would love that.” He was clearly thrilled.
“Oh!” Abby went back to her previous train of thought. “In my basement room – Phoebe will tell you where it is – my sleeping bag is there. I’m going to need it. And under the collapsed back porch is my bike. I know it’s a lot to ask… but I would be very grateful.”
“I’ll do it,” said George.
Phoebe shook her head. “George, I know it’s a pain, but you shouldn’t be seen collecting this stuff and riding back into the churchyard. In a way we’ve been successful by not appearing to be a group. You’ve convinced them that you’re mainly interested in money and moving up in the world, and have no other goals or loyalties. They can work with that. They understand making money and moving up in the world. But as soon as they see you’re all about being tight with us, your opportunities as a spy will be over, and they’ll take revenge. You might need to quit this spy thing soon...”
Abby cut in, saying: “Tuck has stressed these rules to me over and over: no friends in the cottage, no anything that could be photographed and used against us. Tuck is scared. He could lose his job. The old school building looks abandoned, and the church must be broke. And an election for the board of trustees is coming up in two weeks! We’ve got to help raise money for the church and Rivergate both. Don’t forget, I was born in Rivergate, I have relatives and childhood friends there. They are my people by birth.”
Phoebe and George waited quietly. This was a side of Abby they had only seen from a distance, and it had given Abby a cloak of mystery. But now they were seeing her heart close at hand.

“Why don’t we ask Jeremy to pick up Abby’s things?” suggested Phoebe. “No one thinks he’s close with Abby, and he doesn’t work in town where he’s easily watched.”
“I’m fine with that,” whispered Abby. “But remember: this new agreement with Morphy won’t stop them from following us, trying to learn our secrets, and taking pictures they can try to put a spin on. They want Tuck and I out of here. They want the whole town and mining rights in the forest. They’re looking at the kind of money that’s got them foaming at the mouth.”
“None of us will forget,” Phoebe said, and put her arms around them. Their eyes were used to the dark. They could see each other’s faces beaming in the moonlight. Abby led them back down Tiny’s path and unlocked the iron door. Phoebe and George disappeared into the night.

The Ghost Girl - Episode 14


A BIG DECISION

Illustration By Carlos Uribe

Illustration By Carlos Uribe

“So we’ve got to decide tonight,” George told them.
“Wow!” whispered Abby. “What do you make of it? Can we trust Morphy at all? I mean, we know what his big plan is, and he’s not going to stop.”
“That’s what I say,” muttered Phoebe.
“I’ve thought it over word by word,” replied George. “Of course he hasn’t changed his plan. He’s cold and angry, and when he talks his hand moves like a karate chop. He’s not giving an inch out of good will. But he is a trained lawyer and super successful business man, rich beyond anything we can conceive of. He didn’t get there by beating his head against a brick wall. It’s clear he sees this situation as a setback and wants to retreat. If he thought there was anything to be gained by attacking us he would have done so. Our only question is this: will we also lose by attacking?”
“You know,” Abby burst out in a loud whisper, “Geraldine asked me some hard questions just a few hours ago. Do we want to spend the next couple of years tied up in court, and probably accomplish nothing? A lot of people will get hurt. And this community council meeting event the day after tomorrow has got me thinking. I spent the first ten years of my life in Rivergate. I remember Pastor Banks. And most of the people in Rivergate are descendents of families driven out of Hidden Valley at the time the old Georgi house were burned.”
“Whoa!” whispered Phoebe. “I’m beginning to understand.”
Abby leaned forward. “Now, you probably don’t know that the haunted house where I was living used to be a Georgi house, a place where the family stayed during the winter to be near town. Do we want all this coming out at a trial? Given our mission as it stands, I don’t think we do, not at all.”
Abby’s voice was rushing along when suddenly they heard the sound of a breaking stick, an unmistakable snap. The noise seemed to come over the churchyard wall. They all froze, listening. Very faintly, Abby heard a crunching noise, like steps.
“What was that?” asked George in a faint whisper. “Am I imagining things?”
They waited. The voice of an owl seemed to enter the conversation. The whoo! Whoo! call seemed almost on top of them.
“Could someone have heard us?” whispered Phoebe.
“Noise could carry outside the wall,” answered Abby, “but I don’t think anyone could make out our words from there.” She tried to shake off her fears. “Look, let’s finish up. I’m in favor of accepting the agreement.” She turned to Phoebe. “I don’t want you charged with assault. Period. Do we want you struggling with this? We’ve got other more interesting and useful things to do. Plus, I think you both know why I don’t want attention focused on the events in Hidden Valley. I mean, that’s what we’re protecting. That’s what the Protectors of the Wood do! And people in Rivergate have reason to be scared. They’ve suffered horribly in the past and are coming to us now as their homes get flooded. We’ve got a lot to lose too…”
“I agree with Abby,” George whispered. “I already thought so but now I’m sure.”
They looked at Phoebe, who was quietly biting her lip. “I’m so grateful,” she whispered. “I love you both.”
www.protectorsofthewood.com

The Ghost Girl - Episode 13

GEORGE TELLS HIS STORY

14560179_1228143477226847_348174280439509276_o.jpg

"Is it really you? Oh, I'm so happy! I'm so happy!"
"Is everything okay?"
Abby nodded, locked the door, and beckoned them to follow. Up the narrow path they went in single file. As they entered the mulch pile the sky opened up and the moon shone on their faces. They sat down cross-legged on the dry leaves, making a small triangle. "Talk in whispers," Abby warned them. "The watchers are on duty all night across the street." They looked at each other, waiting for someone to begin.
"Phoebe," whispered Abby, "You saved my life last night. I owe you. I'll always remember the... the way you..." She was at a loss for words. Phoebe embraced her, and whispered in her ear, "It's okay. I wanted to do it. I would do it again."
"I'm your friend forever," Abby replied. It was something she had never said to anyone before. Then she became aware of George, looking on at this emotional scene and shifting away from the girls as if he were an intruder. She turned and pulled him closer by the shoulders, and hugged him. "George, I'm so glad to see you! But... aren't you taking a big risk coming here, with this business of being a spy? They'll take revenge like they've tried with me."
"That's one big reason we're here tonight," Phoebe cut in. "George, you tell it."
He looked at Abby and said, "You should know from the start that we're under pressure. We have to make decisions tonight."
"Go for it," said Abby.
"Well, this morning Peabody came up to me on the sidewalk and said we had to talk right away about what he called 'a very sensitive job'. So we crossed the street to his office, and he walked me into the back room. And who should be sitting there but Milton Morphy, the great robber baron himself! As soon as I sat down he just goes off in that angry voice, saying I betrayed him, sold photos to the enemy, can't be trusted, and they'll deal with me accordingly. I told him I'm not under any contract, and I'd earned ten times more money from The Evansville Record in one hour than I'd made from their newspaper over the last three months. Peabody got all frantic and told me I shouldn't talk to Milton that way, that it could hurt me forever, but Morphy just waved him off and said, 'No, no, I understand, I see the boy has ambitions. He wants to make money.' Then he came to the point and said he had an important job for me, where I could make more money than I'd ever had before."
George took a deep breath. 
"Go on, go on," whispered Abby.
"Morphy said there had been 'unfortunate misunderstandings' last night, and one of his colleagues had been hospitalized with a serious injury. He knew that Phoebe had hit him with a club and broke his arm, and said that she should be charged with assault and spend jail time. But then he added that some people in town had gotten 'a little hysterical'... so Phoebe may have thought she was defending herself. And now the police are trying to identify those people who became hysterical, the mob who thought magic had caused the storm and the car accidents and the blocking of the street, and went to that house in the forest in search of a witch." George saw he had all their attention.
So..." he went on, "Morphy said he'll make 'a little informal agreement', and let the whole thing alone if Phoebe and Tuck and Dr. Bear will also agree to do the same. Then he added, 'Nothing written, mind you! And if my name comes up at all you'll be very sorry, I promise you that!'
"It was really tense," George whispered. "I couldn't come up with a word to say. And Morphy just stares at me and says, 'Well, I'm waiting.'"

The Ghost Girl Blog - Episode 12

A SECRET MEETING

Illustration By Lawrence Tate

Illustration By Lawrence Tate

As soon as Geraldine was out the door, Abby opened her second note of the day. It read: 

Abby, Be There! The back door at 1PM tonight. More important than before. With Love and Hope,
Phoebe

She read both notes twice and then ripped them up and threw the pieces into the wood burning stove and lit them. “There’s got to be some danger for Phoebe to push me like this,” she thought. “It’s like waving a red flag and saying, ‘Look out, look out!’” 
Abby lay down on the bed and stared vacantly at the peeling paint on the ceiling. “I’ve got to get myself together and eat something,” she told herself. “I’ve lost my appetite again. I’m too jittery.” She stood up and paced the room, walking back and forth in the tiny space. “But at least I’m going to see Phoebe! I can’t wait. To think of how she helped me! She believes in me, no matter what I do. Now if only George and Jeremy and Stephanie and Eddy could come too. At least George! There must be some kind of threat.” 
Abby paced back and forth. “Oh! I’m sure they have news for me. Let’s get this new life going!” Finally she calmed down and ate a nut butter sandwich with a glass of apple cider. Then she set her alarm clock for 12:30 and lay down again. Soon her thoughts rushed along like the flow of a river. Pictures from the evening before at the haunted house came back to her. She re-lived the scene there in the dark with a crowd threatening Phoebe and her with torches, and the crazy firelight bending and shifting with the trees in the wind. Abby gasped, breathing rapidly, and sat up on the edge of the bed.“Definitely post-traumatic stress,” she told herself. “Geraldine was right about everything.” Then her thoughts turned into dreams.

The alarm clock rang in what seemed like a moment later. Abby threw cold water on her face, made a cup of Breakfast Mixture and drank it slowly. She felt good, relaxed but ready, eager for the coming adventure. The minutes ticked by. She put on her trademark dark jeans and long sleeved black tee shirt, and paced the room again. Finally she put the key in her pocket and climbed out the back window. She was fairly certain someone would still be watching from the bench across the street. A yellow moon shone in her face, and glimmered on the twisted and broken old apple trees and the high churchyard wall. Nothing moved. The night was still, the song of the crickets the only sound. She passed like a shadow behind the apple trees, and then crawled into a tiny opening at ground level between the hedge and the wall. Pushing up gently through the leaves, she rose into the mulch pile. She waited there and listened for a few minutes in silence. Then she brushed the leaves off her hair and clothes, and continued across the leaves and down Tiny’s path along the wall. In a moment she entered the secret place. Still no sound but the crickets. Abby slipped the key into the lock of the iron door, turned it with a faint click, and then leaned against the wall, listening patiently. In a few minutes she heard steps, the soft pat-pat of shoes on the ground. 
"There’s more than one person!” she thought. “I should have left the door locked!” She moved back a few steps along the wall, ready to run if necessary. The steps came closer, closer, and then stopped. Seconds ticked by. 
"Abby,” came a whisper. “Abby, are you there?” She knew instantly it was Phoebe’s voice! Abby opened the door, and Phoebe burst in with George on her heels, colliding with Abby in the dark. All three wore black, and could hardly see each other. "Phoebe! George!” 
"Abby!” They whispered to each other and embraced, all three at once.

The Ghost Girl Blog - Episode 11

WHEN WOULD BE A BETTER TIME THAN NOW TO BEGIN?

Illustrations By Lawrence Tate

Illustrations By Lawrence Tate

After Glenda, Tiny, and Lucy had departed, Abby knocked on the side door of the church to request the use of Reverend Tuck’s phone. She had not spoken to her parents for weeks, and felt sure they had seen her on TV News and were afraid and worried. But the number rang fifteen times with no answer.
Coming back to the cottage in the dim light Abby was startled by a dark shape at the door. In a few seconds she recognized the reassuring silhouette of Geraldine.
“Hello, dear,” said Geraldine softly. “I’m glad to catch you. I have presents from your friends, and I wouldn’t want them to go to waste.”
As they entered Abby asked if she could stay for a few minutes.
“Of course, I’d be happy to. And here’s part of a smoked salmon, a loaf of Penny’s bread, and another note for you!” She set the bag on the countertop. “Now, tell me about your day? How are you feeling?” Geraldine took a seat, and looked carefully at Abby across the table.
“There’s a couple of things…." Abby said. "Remember you said this morning that if I need to talk to let you know? Well, I could really use your help now.”
“Go right ahead, dear, this is a good moment for me. I don’t have to be anywhere.”
“I was behind the door listening at the service this morning, and I heard you read from the Bible, and heard Reverend Tuck’s sermon, and I was… well, both happy and frightened. I mean, I admire your courage, but wasn’t it all a bit provocative for such a day? I mean, on my first day here at the church, for you and Tuck to proclaim the daughter of God, and for Tuck to mention the burning of the old Hidden Valley houses with some of my ancestors in them… and to invite Pastor Banks from Rivergate… well, it kind of brings the long war out in the open, doesn’t it?”
Geraldine nodded. “I appreciate your confiding in me,” she said. “You see, I never knew until this moment that you had ancestors living in Hidden Valley in the early 1940s. That was back before I was born. But I did know that the population of Hidden Valley fled to Rivergate at that time.”
“But… how did you know that?”
“I’ve been there often in the course of my work, making home visits to families with children recovering from operations and illnesses.” Geraldine paused and caught Abby’s eye. “You may not remember, but you were one of them.”
Tears came to Abby’s eyes. “I’ve never forgotten! And I know I never thanked you. It’s just hard to mention it…”
“I understand, dear.” Geraldine held her hand. “You thanked me with your eyes. You communicated more than you know.”
They were silent for a moment.
Geraldine continued, saying, “Your parents never discussed their history or family of origin with me, and I never asked. But I’ve been well-aware that most of the Rivergate people are at least partly descended from the original inhabitants of Hidden Valley. It was their land, as was the entire Half Moon Valley once upon a time. The people from Hidden Valley stayed far longer in their ancestral home than most of the Half Moon People. But after that lunatic mob from Middletown burned the houses and barns – a whole small town, really – most of the people fled to Rivergate, where their relatives already lived.”
“People don’t talk about this,” muttered Abby. 
“Oh yes they do, as you well know.”
“But I have good reason to be afraid,” cried Abby. “Look what happened to my father’s parents and to so many others! We moved off to Ridgewood to hide from all this, but it won’t stay hidden! And now here I am in the middle of it, stirring up the town to violence.”
“Now now! Don’t take that all on yourself," Geraldine replied. "You didn’t start the violence. Even when you were young, people could see a spiritual quality about you. You used to have a nickname, do you remember?”
“You mean ‘the Ghost Girl’? That was just to tease me. I was sick and pale and thin as a ghost. People thought I was half-dead already.”
“Ghost is another name for spirit. You have a glow about you, and a particular destiny is pulling you along.”
Abby burst into tears. “I can’t bear to have people know all this.”

Geraldine waited for Abby to recover, and then began again: “So, can you see now that post-traumatic stress is not just my excuse to keep people from bothering you? It goes way, way back. The people of Rivergate suffer as a group. And the mob of murderers from Middletown suffer from it even more, but in a different way. Their consciences eat them up. The stain of guilt is upon them, even if it’s the guilt of their ancestors. And I think you’re aware that most of humanity suffers from this, all over the world. In a frenzy we are destroying the very world we live in. We’re in the process of destroying ourselves.”
“I know, I know,” Abby murmured, her head in her hands.
“That is why Reverend Tuck and I are going public with the Sophia scriptures you heard this morning. We feel that a call is going out to all people to change, to live differently, to love the earth and save this world for their children and the life to come. When would be a better time than now to begin?”

The Ghost Girl - Episode 8

NEWS FROM REVEREND TUCK

Illustration By Lawrence Tate

Illustration By Lawrence Tate

“Let it live! Let it live! Let it live!” Finally the voice inside Abby moved her to tears. She began to sob, and put her face in her hands. Then she lay down, and soon was breathing easily. Her heart slowed and the tension in her arms evaporated. A delicious calm came over her whole body.

Loud, rapid knocking on the door woke her from a deep sleep. She opened the door, surprised to see Reverend Tuck looking embarrassed and tongue-tied. “I’m sorry to make such a noise,” he finally said. When you didn’t answer I worried that something might have scared you away. I know I’m late getting back to you.”
“Nothing like that,” returned Abby. “I was just sleeping.”
“Wonderful! I’m relieved to hear it. I know you’ve been through a lot.”
“Well, to tell you the truth, I have been worried. What time is it?”
“After 3 o’clock,” answered Tuck “The meeting took much longer than I expected. But everything worked out fine! Your position is approved by the Council. As soon as we get the paperwork done, you will be employed by this church, and your rent-free residence will be the payment for your work.”
Abby was speechless with happiness, and threw her arms around Reverend Tuck.
“Now, now!” he said, stepping back out of her embrace. “None of that. We do face difficulties, problems we must discuss. We have work to do. And I’m sure you need a good meal. I have a cold chicken, apples, and other food across the way, and you would do me a great favor by joining me.”
“Yes! I want to hear everything.” She followed Tuck through a side door of the enormous church building to the small dining room she had seen briefly the night before. Tuck did his best to welcome her, speaking non-stop from the nearby kitchen. He brought a tray piled with food and said, “Start right in, you must be starving! Eat!”
Abby could only pick at her food. She was following every word Tuck said. His talk was full of small anecdotes reassuring her that the people who mattered were supporting his decision to bring her into the church. But – though she was not ready to mention it – Abby had seen the crowd walk out of the church service only a few hours before. While those angry people were not close to being a majority of the congregation, they were numerous enough to be disruptive and make a public statement. And she’d heard Tuck’s sermon, and could tell that he was preparing to fight a dangerous battle over the coming weeks, months, perhaps years.

After a brief silence Abby said, “But I’m interested in hearing about these difficulties… you know… like you spoke about before.”
“Ah yes,” returned Tuck, “We’ll get to the hard part. You see, this stage of the game demands that you adapt to the dangers of our position. Always remember that some people will be looking for any opportunity to destroy our reputations. They’ll try to manufacture a scandal, exaggerate bad behavior of any sort. So please! Keep your distance from me, physically I mean. Don’t give anyone a reason to start rumors. You will be in a fishbowl, under a microscope. Keep a low profile. Be careful who you talk to, where you go, and what you say. Please, do not even leave the churchyard without telling me, and I want to approve any guests you may have.”
He paused and frowned. “I’m sorry to have to say these things… we are both in a vulnerable spot, and so are all our friends.”
Tuck was straining to find the right words, but Abby felt her energy and strength return. She was glad to have the bad news out on the table, though she suspected he was still hiding the worst of it. “I can take it,” she replied. “I’ve been under pressure for a long time.”
Tuck smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. “Well now,” he said, “that’s much better. Of course I know there’s more to you than meets the eye. I’ll begin by pointing out that you hide a lot more of your life than I do of mine. But all of us sharing this struggle have to be very good at keeping secrets… and so far, by the grace of God, we’ve been successful.”
Tuck leaned forward and continued quietly, “Though I will never refer to this except in absolute privacy, I believe you are Wendy’s… student?... disciple? Almost like a daughter? You know far more than I do about Wendy’s… what would you call it? Great enterprise? Grand project?”
“People already think I’m strange,” replied Abby. “Some are even afraid of me. Let’s not give anyone the idea that I know or represent Wendy.”
“I understand,” returned Tuck. “I’m a very careful man. But I must ask one question: Did Wendy send you here to me on purpose? Is that part of her plan, her mission? It will help me to know.”
“We agreed on it,” Abby said. “Yes.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Tuck. “This looks better and better.”

The Ghost Girl - Episode 7

THE PRAYER OF ALL LIFE

Illustration By Carlos Uribe

Illustration By Carlos Uribe

THE PRAYER OF ALL LIFE, illustration by Carlos Uribe
Back in the tiny churchyard cottage, Abby’s mind was flooded with too many questions to think clearly. She needed someone to talk to. Suddenly she felt very alone and scared, practically imprisoned in the churchyard, isolated from her friends. She began to pace around the room, disturbed by a feeling that she was missing something. With a sudden inspiration she remembered the envelope from the grocery bag brought by Geraldine, and her hand flew to her pocket. There it was, plain and small and thin, with her name written boldly on the front in pencil. She tore it open and discovered a note from Phoebe. Feeling her heart pounding, she read:

Abby -- I miss you already! I’d like to give you time to get settled, but things have come up that we should talk about right away. As you know, Tuck is not allowing us in the churchyard, and you will be watched and followed wherever you go. The men from that mob last night are likely to be pretty nervous about the outcome of all this. I’m sure George wants to see you, but I think it’s too risky for him. But I will come to the back door of the churchyard, tonight at 1AM. I’ll continue to send notes through Geraldine, who is very cooperative.
With Love and Hope,
Phoebe

“Ah!” thought Abby with relief. “That helps. But why does Phoebe need to see me so badly? And why is it especially dangerous for George?” She began to pace around the tiny cottage like a caged animal. “And where is Reverend Tuck?” she wondered. “This Church Council meeting seems to be going on for a long time.”
Abby recalled everything she knew about the Church Council. The picture that came to mind was not reassuring. The Council would be voting, maybe at that very moment, on whether or not to allow her to be the church gardener and live in the cottage rent-free. She had moved heaven and earth to achieve this change, and was already planning the gardens and orchards she would plant, a dazzling array of vegetables, fruits, and flowers, all from Wendy’s seeds and cuttings.
“My seeds! Oh my God, I don’t have my seeds!” She remembered in a panic that her seeds were carefully hidden behind a decaying sheet rock wall on the second floor of the haunted house. Her guitar and whistles were back there too. And her bike was under the floorboards of the broken porch. Abby felt certain that the haunted house would be thoroughly searched sometime soon, if it had not happened already. Her seeds had been carefully chosen over years of planting in Wendy’s gardens. They were an irreplaceable treasure. Worrying frantically about the council meeting and her prized possessions, Abby could not sit still, and felt her heart race. The loss of her new home would leave her with nowhere to go. It was all more than she could bear.
“Help me! Help me!” In her thoughts she called out, looking for the voice of her inner friend, the green being from her vision. 

Thumbing through her copy of Black Elk Speaks, she was reminded of a strange idea that had grown in her heart since childhood. Many times she had been moved to tears by the words near the end of the book, the part where Black Elk says, “And I, to whom so great a vision was given in my youth – you see me now a pitiful old man who has done nothing, for the nation’s hoop is broken and scattered. There is no center any longer, and the sacred tree is dead.”
And then Abby turned to his last words in the book, where Black Elk prays from a mountaintop, crying aloud:
“It may be that some little root of the sacred tree still lives. Nourish it then, that it may leaf and bloom and fill with singing birds… In sorrow I am sending a feeble voice, O Six Powers of the World. Hear me in my sorrow, for I may never call again. O make my people live!”

Each time Abby read these words, she thought of the urgent sadness in the eyes of the green being, her earth angel, and she imagined that Black Elk and the angel were the same being, that an angel had been born as Black Elk, and became an angel again when he died, a guardian of souls, and of all life. And his vision, his dream of helping the sacred tree to live – that dream was not dead, but was fought for by angels, and lived in the heart of humans. Wendy had taught Abby that this is the prayer of all life.

“Let it live! Let it live! Let it live!” came the voice, surging with fierce energy inside her. 

Subscribe to our new YouTube channel!

Coming soon a brand new animated series!

Mysteries arise as Phoebe unravels the secrets in her small town. Deep in the marrow of her bones, she feels that all her hopes are in danger of being lost. A powerful gem called dreamstone appears at the heart of the mystery.

The Ghost Girl - Episode 6

THE CHALLENGE OF OUR TIME

13925587_1162409983800197_3915442921931777735_o.jpg

“Ladies and gentlemen, members of the congregation!” announced Reverend Tuck. To Abby’s surprise, he was speaking without notes, just in front of the first row. He even paced back and forth and up the aisles, talking to the enormous crowd in a conversational tone amplified by a small microphone around his neck. “I know that our church is in the midst of controversy,” Tuck began. “We have caught the attention of the wide world. I am grateful for this opportunity to discuss the problems we face today. First of all, I know that many disagree with my call to make the stewardship of the earth and the fight against climate change a major commitment for our congregation. Many have argued that climate change is a matter for science and politics only. I have responded by insisting that the lives of our children and children’s children are surely a spiritual responsibility, as can be seen at length in scripture. In fact this is not just a responsibility. It is a matter of urgent and dire need that forces us to take a stand. And there are consequences to taking a stand, consequences that disrupt business as usual and create conflict.

“For example, we belong to a world-wide religious denomination, an organization that raises and invests what we would consider a large fortune. Does it make sense that our church is making money by investing in corporations that are destroying the balance of nature? For the science is no longer in doubt. Only the ethics are in doubt, very much to our sorrow. When our ancestors approached the civil war, the great campaign to end slavery, some churches stood on the sideline. When Hitler moved to dominate the world and slaughter minority groups by the millions, some churches stood on the sideline. Do we accept the excuse that these are not religious issues? No, we understand that humanity was in the midst of a great battle against evil, a battle that would determine the very nature of the future of life on earth. Yet even if we accept this struggle, can we really make a difference? The good news is that we have help, help from on high. Wisdom, the daughter of God, is reaching out to us. As we heard today from the book of Proverbs, wisdom is all around us, trying to be heard. She rejoices in the divine gift of life on earth. She delights in the lives of people. Hearing her call is the great challenge of our time. I stand here sharing my heart with you.”

At this point, as if by plan, a large group rose and filed out of the church amid great bustle and muttering. Abby easily recognized some of the men. Indeed, a few were a part of the mob threatening to burn the haunted house with her in it only the night before. Loud comments were heard: “You’re crazy, Tuck, and you’ll soon be gone!” and “We can’t take these insults any longer. It’s over.”
Tuck waited patiently. When he was about to begin again a man shouted from the back: “What are these lies about the daughter of God? You’re not even a Christian!” 
Tuck stood there in silence, and finally said, “All thanks to those of you who have heard me out. I must take a few more minutes of your time to talk about our new gardener, now living in the churchyard cottage, and my decision to rescue her from an abandoned house. I hope that after our council meeting today we will call it our decision, for with your help she will be here in the name of our church as a whole. I know the history of Middletown as well as many of you. Do we want to stand by and see innocent victims burned alive for a second time?”

The audience gasped. Murmuring spread forward and back, like a shifting wind. Abby stared, breathless. Tuck waited a few seconds, and then bowed his head: “Lord, we reach out to you in this world endangered by our own blindness and greed. We need you! We need you! We need you! Help us to find a way into a future for all humanity, for all life, a world that can flourish for millions of years to come. Amen.” 

Tuck raised his head and said, “Before we finish today I want to invite all of you to an important meeting here in the church basement this Tuesday at 7PM. We will receive a visit from our colleagues from the nearby town of Rivergate, and discuss the emergency problems threatening their community. Rising water levels in the Half Moon Wetland have damaged their only bridge off the island. This will be an important opportunity to reach out to our neighbors in distress. We urge the youth of Middletown to attend. I’m told there will be music on the program.”
The congregation buzzed with whispering, and Abby heard someone say, “That’s Swamptown, you know, not a place where people should be living.”
As Tuck announced the final hymn, Abby glided back the way she had come. The future spread out before her. The battle lines had been drawn.

The Ghost Girl - Episode 5

ABBY HIDES AT THE CHURCH DOOR

13925690_1156754247699104_2411653372271506796_o.jpg

Dr. Geraldine Bear entered the cottage, saying, “I hope I’m not disturbing you, dear. I know we’re all exhausted from yesterday.”
“No, no, I’m up and around,” replied Abby quickly. “How are… um, things?”
The doctor looked at her carefully. “Well, things are generally good. But I’ve had to act on your behalf since I saw you last, and I owe you an explanation.”
“I already know,” returned Abby. “You told people I’m suffering from post traumatic stress, and can’t receive guests.”
“You must be wondering why I did this. I know it was presumptuous – after all, I’m not really your doctor. You have every right to be angry.”
“No, I’m actually relieved. You’ve given me an excuse to keep the crowds away. It’s all a little overwhelming.”
“Ah! You do understand! I’m trying to be your friend, unless you really want a doctor. And please call me Geraldine. You need some help here.”
“I’d like to know,” Abby said, “do you really think I have post traumatic stress, or just need a rest?”
“I would say a good deal of both,” answered Geraldine. “There are enormous conflicts here that affect all of us. These matters run very deep, and you probably know more about them than I do.” Geraldine waited for Abby to respond, but she began unpacking the grocery bags and avoiding Geraldine’s eyes.
“That’s okay dear, but if you need to talk, just let me know.”
“Oh, this food is just what I need!” exclaimed Abby, ignoring Geraldine’s offer.
“You have wonderful friends. Just a few minutes ago Phoebe, Stephanie, Jeremy, George, and Eddy all arrived with these gifts for you.”
At the bottom of the second bag Abby found an envelope addressed to her. She folded it in half and slipped it into a pocket of her jeans.
“My goodness!” cried Geraldine in alarm. She was looking out the small kitchen window. “Do you see? The crowd is already on the sidewalk! Tuck will need me. We’ll talk later, don’t go anywhere!” She disappeared out the door.

Abby stared out the window at the action on Bridge Avenue, watching people arrive on foot and stepping out of taxi-cabs. Soon a line of double-parked cars ran up the road as far as she could see, including a WBCS television van. Reporters were interviewing people on the street. Abby found it hard to remain still, and began to pace around the tiny cottage. “What is Tuck going to say?” she wondered. “Is he going to mention me?” 

In half an hour she grew frantic, and exceedingly curious. Soon almost no one was left on the street. Abby opened the cottage door to get a better look, and noticed that the side door of the sanctuary was wide open. Clearly they needed a breeze through the church on that hot day. Abby examined the layout of the churchyard and made a plan. She climbed out the back window behind the line of old apple trees, and then advanced toward the church partly screened from Bridge Avenue by a few large maple trees. Finally she risked a few quick steps to a well-hidden position between the church wall and the back of the large, wide open door. Looking carefully through the opening at the hinges, Abby saw the altar well lit by a chandelier high above. Off to one side stood Geraldine at the podium, reading out loud from the Bible. 

“From Proverbs, chapter 8,” she said.
Abby listened carefully: 
“Listen! Wisdom is calling out. Reason is making herself heard. On the hilltops near the road, and at the crossroads she stands. At the entrance to the city, beside the gates, she calls: ‘I appeal to you, mankind. I call to everyone on earth… I was made in the very beginning, at the first, before the world began… before God made the earth and it’s fields or even the first handful of soil. I was there when he set the sky in place, when he stretched the horizon across the ocean, when he placed the clouds in the sky, when he opened the springs of the ocean and ordered the waters of the sea to rise no further than he said. I was there when he laid the earth’s foundations. I was beside him like an architect. I was his daily source of joy, always happy in his presence – happy with the world and pleased with the human race… The man who finds me finds life, and the Lord will be pleased with him.”
Geraldine bowed her head. “This is the word of the Lord,” she said.

The Ghost Girl - Episode 4

Episode 4


THE CHURCHYARD COTTAGE

13738219_1151511474890048_8186973258326712679_o.jpg

“Have you fallen asleep?” asked Reverend Tuck quietly. He stood beside her in the darkness. “It’s been a long day I know.”
Abby looked up and realized that she was still sitting outside under the stars. She shivered in a cool night breeze.
“I know we’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” Tuck went on, “but for now I just want to mention a few things. Have you prepared a place in the cottage to sleep?”
“Yes, that’s fine, I’m all ready.”
“Okay, I’ll let you go in a minute. Let me remind you that tomorrow we have our 11AM church service, and with all this uproar and publicity it will be packed, and require a response from me. Dr. Bear has taken the liberty of telling reporters and police that you are recovering from a traumatic experience. You already answered a few major questions on television last night, and a video of that little interview has spread over the internet. I think that’s enough exposure for the present. Our job now is to keep you quiet and hidden away, and let this hysteria die down. So tomorrow fix up this cottage, or whatever you like, but stay inside, out of circulation. Dr. Bear will handle the outside world for you. People have offered donations, and she will receive them for you. We will bring food. So stay out of sight. No visits, no interviews…. Any questions?”
“Not now,” replied Abby. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“Then get some sleep. I’ll see you after the morning service. No, it will be a little later than that. I have to meet with the Church Council.”
Abby stood up and looked at Tuck in the faint light from her cottage. “Thank you! I appreciate all you’ve done, so much I can’t tell you.”
“That’s all right,” said Tuck with a smile. “I love my job. We’re glad to have you as a part of our family here.”

Abby awoke in the full light of day to the noise of beautiful blue jays making a ruckus outside her open window. The cottage felt peaceful, a much-needed haven. It was true that it lacked decent furniture and a refrigerator, and needed an enormous amount of work. And despite a night of open windows, the cottage exuded a damp, sour odor. 
“But that’s why no one else wants it,” she thought. “That’s why it’s all mine.”
She thought for a few minutes about Wendy: “Will she be lonely? Yes, most definitely. And I will be lonely without her. But this is my future. I have a mission in the world, as she has told me so many times. And I know she believes it. She proved it by letting me ride Hilda.”
‘Hilda’ was Wendy’s name for the flying stick, the Volador, sometimes called the broom. Abby often wondered about the nature of Hilda, the spirit of the broom. In Abby’s view, Hilda expressed a personality even though she could not talk. Yet she could listen and move and respond. Her movements could express disagreement or annoyance, or even happiness and joy. When Abby asked about Hilda, Wendy had said: “She offered me this favor long ago, when I chose this mission. Always respect Hilda, she is smarter than you.”
Abby had replied, “But she is not a person!”
And Wendy had replied, “She was a person at one time, and now she’s a kind of angel, you could say, a gift from heaven.”
Not to be put off, Abby had asked, “But what are angels?”
And Wendy said, “That’s the last question for today! They are messengers between heaven and earth, the Guardians of all life, our helpers from the other world. You don’t think life could grow up to heaven without help, do you? And you don’t have to call them angels. I just use that name because people here understand it. Your ancestors and mine on your father’s side had other names and ways of seeing them. I wish you knew more about that!”
“I wish I did too,” thought Abby.

A faint knock made her jump as if she'd heard a scream. She opened the door to see Dr. Geraldine Bear carrying two shopping bags.