Ghost Girl - Episode 56

THE ANGRY WOMAN AND THE BISHOP

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Illustration by Lawrence Tate
Out on the lawn Abby and the children found that the group of parents and the bishop had been altered by three new arrivals, all middle-aged women. These three had gathered around the bishop, cutting him off from the parents. Two of the women were speaking to him in a confidential sort of way, coming so close that the bishop stepped back to keep his distance. 
The children flooded into the group of parents, excitedly talking of their discoveries and plans to gather food and return. The parents followed them to the crowded food tables and bought sandwiches, peaches, and lemon cukes. 
But as they returned toward the birdwatcher’s path Abby saw that the conversation between two of the women and the bishop had become very tense, even angry. As he retreated to avoid the discussion one of them raised her voice, and made hand gestures right up in the bishop’s face. She was well dressed and attractive, but her aggressive manner had an ugly side. 
An older woman, dressed in a style more appropriate for a hike in the woods, was standing alone, showing obvious signs of embarrassment. She hid her face behind her wide-brimmed hat.
The parents stopped to look, and the children began sharing out the food. Suddenly the angry woman shouted, “This cannot go on any longer! We are determined...” The woman turned around and saw Abby and her crowd of chattering children and parents. She gave Abby a furious glare.
‘Now that was definitely hostile,’ Abby thought. ‘That was hate and anger! I’m not just paranoid.’ She was certain that the three women were the trustees missing from their recent community council meeting. Chester Peterson had called them ‘The Three Furies of Middletown'.
Meanwhile the children finished their food in a just a few minutes, and began to get bored. Abby took their paper plates to the trash barrel, and led them down the Birdwatcher’s Path for another adventure. Tiny and Lucy suggested that they show the group the Secret Place, and even the path back up into the privet fort. They were so enthusiastic that Abby said, “We’ve got to sneak along like spies, making no noise.” At the corner near the wrought-iron door Abby pointed to the thick sections of the old tree arranged as seats, and the children scrambled to find a place. 
After a few minutes of silence Franklyn pointed and whispered, “Sparrows.” These plain, small birds were chattering on a cluster of young maple trees overgrown with vines. Ned pointed to the ground ahead of them and whispered, “Robin!” A red-breasted robin had appeared at the edge of the brush to hunt for worms in the soft open soil. It hopped, and pulled out a small worm, and retreated back into the brush. Some of the children gasped. “Crows,” whispered Jane, pointing above them. They all heard the familiar rough voices. And suddenly they heard a new voice among the trees: “coo, coo-ah, coo, coo.”
“Dove!” whispered Franklyn with excitement. As they tried to spy the dove a new voice entered the game: “It’s a mourning dove!” 
They looked behind them and there were the bishop and the woman in the wide-brimmed hat. “I hope you don’t mind,” said the woman, “if we play too.” The children stared at them in awe, as if they were visitors from another planet.
To Abby’s delight the voice of the owl, “Whoo, whoo,” broke the silence from somewhere ahead of them. The woman looked up, startled, and crept forward in great excitement, moving her head back and forth, stooping or standing on tiptoes, trying to get a better angle as she approached the thicket of brush and trees. She turned to the children and beckoned them forward. They all kneeled down, and she pointed up through the brush to an old broken oak tree, its upper half struck by lightening or decayed long ago, now with few branches left and covered in Virginia creeper. There on a horizontal branch, deep in the shadow of the vines, two yellow eyes shone forth. A shockingly large, dark and light gray striped body could barely be seen. The owl was about a yard tall, with a long tail. The children could hardly believe their eyes. None had ever seen anything like it. “A Great Gray Owl,” whispered the woman. “Count yourselves blessed, my children. The first I’ve ever seen.” 
Abby caught sight of the bird and silently backed out of the group to let the children move into her spot. She stumbled right into the legs of the bishop, and mouthed the words, “I’m sorry!”
He gave her a very warm and kindly smile. His eyes were brimming over with tears.

Ghost Girl - Episode 55

THE CAVE-HOUSE

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Illustration by Carlos Uribe
As the church service ended Abby grew anxious about the coming event in the churchyard. She followed the closely packed crowd to the side door, all the while looking for her friends, and feeling lost and alone. People were getting hot and irritated in the bottleneck at the exit. Suddenly Abby felt a tug on her shirt from behind, and turned to see Glenda carrying Tiny. “Oh am I happy to see you,” said Glenda in a low tone. “I promised to stick close to Ellen now that she’s running for trustee and has to… figure out what to say to people. She needs help. And Tiny and Kayla will get bored.”
“We want to explore,” announced Tiny. “Kayla and Lucy and I want to see everything!”
Abby was delighted. Tiny’s plan suited her perfectly. Glenda joined Ellen at the crowded tables of food and coffee, where Sammy, Stephanie, and Ellie were rushing to serve Sammy’s usual food. Abby and Tiny walked over toward the Birdwatchers’ Path sign. They waited in the open under the dazzling sunlight, giving anyone the opportunity to join them. Ellen immediately sent Kayla running toward them across the grass. Tom Winkle and Lucy approached more slowly. Tom said, “Lucy tells me you’re going to give the children a tour today. ‘An explore,’ she calls it.”
“That’s right,” replied Abby, pleased that she could offer something positive to this – from her point of view – extremely stressful event.
“Now you might not be aware…” said Tom with his gentle voice, “that some of Lucy and Tiny’s friends have been talking about you all week. They see each other every day at the pre-school, and at Sunday School as well. Is it true you’re going to be running activities at the pre-school?” Tom smiled, creating a feeling of calm and confidence in Abby, like the steadying influence of a benevolent grandfather.
“Well, I’m only volunteering three days a week to start with,” Abby said. From the corner of her eye she saw a large group heading her way.
“Ah, here they come,” Tom announced. “The whole class.” He waved to them and said, “Please join us!” Four young children and a mix of adults arrived. Abby was introduced to Jane, Nancy, Franklyn, Ned, and the parents. The children immediately clustered together, all talking at once. They clearly had a plan of what they wanted to do. Abby heard the words, ‘secret place,’ several times. Tom was trying to explain the situation to the parents.
And to make things still more complicated, the bishop was walking toward them across the lawn. He had exchanged his elaborate outfit for dark pants, shirt, and hat. Abby immediately knew who he was, but many in the group did not recognize him. He introduced himself to each person in a mild-mannered way, going down on one knee to shake hands with each child. Soon the bishop and the parents were discussing the Sunday School and their various connections to the church. The children quickly became bored and began to pester Abby. The bishop observed the situation and said, “Please go ahead, we’ll wait here for you.” 
And in a moment Abby and her following moved down the path into the cool shadows. They walked softly to the wall and turned left into the wild area. Tiny was pointing up the little path to the cave of vines. She looked to Abby for an okay signal, and then led them to the cave entrance. The children gathered around, examining the interior. Lucy stooped down and crawled on hands and knees to the far end of the cave. Meanwhile Abby and the other children all crowded inside. “It’s like the cave-house!” proclaimed Tiny. “It’s our house here at the church.”
“Look how much we can spy,” said Lucy, looking through the vines at the adults on the lawn. Abby replied: “I’ve got an idea. Instead of looking for people, let’s look for animals. I’ve seen about ten kinds of birds here, and heard an owl. And I saw a rabbit come out onto the grass. But animals are usually very quiet, and we won’t see them unless we are quiet too.”
“Emily says Dawn can see all animals and people,” Tiny told them, referring to her imaginary characters.
“I’ve seen a rabbit,” said Franklyn. “And in the swamp we saw a heron, and three deer from a distance.” Jane announced: “Lots of times I’ve seen vultures and raccoons when we visit my uncle.” In a low voice, almost a whisper, Nancy said, “Twice I saw a rat. In River City.” All were silent for a few minutes, and then Ned whispered, “There’s a cardinal.” The beautiful red bird jumped from one tiny branch or vine to another, only ten feet away. Then a group of sparrows began to fuss in another direction. And high above the crows gave their rough call from the tops of the maple trees. 
“We should bring snacks here,” said Lucy. “We have a dining room nearby, at the secret entrance.”
“Would it be all right for us to see that?” asked Ned in a very timid voice, as if he greatly feared that the answer would be ‘No’. 
“Of course!” replied Abby. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Let’s get food and bring it back here!” exclaimed Tiny. The whole group agreed in excitement, and immediately scrambled out of the cave and followed Abby up the path.

Ghost Girl - Episode 54

A HIGH CARD ENTERS THE GAME

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The tolling of the church bell woke her with a start. Her memories of the night before came back in a flood, leaving her in confusion and sorrow about how to handle her relationship with Jeremy. 
With a jolt of electricity she realized that she would have to appear in church, and then run an activity at the outdoor gathering. ‘I’m already late!’ she thought. ‘I’ll look terrible! Everyone will stare at me.’
She dashed through her morning routine in panic, and quickly walked across the churchyard. Tables were already lined up under the maple trees. The side door of the church was propped open. She entered timidly, wishing she were invisible. The pews were packed, no empty space to be seen. A ripple of movement spread through the crowd as Abby walked up the aisle all the way to the back. The feeling of eyes staring made her flush with embarrassment. Finally she found standing room behind the last pew.
‘Who’s that sitting next to Reverend Tuck?’ she wondered. At that moment Tuck stepped to the podium and announced that the church had the honor of receiving Richard Becket, Bishop of the River Valley Region, at today’s worship service.
Abby was entranced by the bishop’s costume. He wore a sparkling white gown with a red embroidered vest and a high pointed white hat. He held a tall staff made of thick, gleaming brown wood. There were small leaves carved in the spiral top. She was captivated by the resemblance of the staff to the mapstick. The bishop was middle aged, tall and clean-shaven. His dark skin stood out in contrast to the white gown and hat. He seemed very solemn, quiet, and confident. Finally the time for the sermon arrived, and he came to the podium to speak.
‘Here he is!’ thought Abby. 
In a calm, even tone – with a faint accent, possibly Jamaican – the bishop expressed his happiness in being called upon to visit the Middletown United Church, one of the best-attended churches in the entire Half Moon Valley. He appreciated the commitment and vitality of the congregation, and its willingness to take on the most pressing issues of the day. But gradually his tone and subject matter changed. He began to comment on the terrifying problems in today’s world, the endless brutal conflicts and civil wars destroying whole cultures and nations. “Christianity,” he said, “is not owned by any cult, tribe, culture, nation, or political party. It makes no person or group automatically superior or inferior to others. And it is available to any person on earth.’ He added that no religion or denomination has a monopoly on absolute truth. "God is not owned by anyone, but is mysteriously in and for all of us."
Heads began turning, and whispering fluttered across the church like leaves in the breeze. People knew something was coming, and were getting anxious. Abby was thrilled, and listened eagerly to every word. As expected, the bishop brought the sermon back to the town and the situation of this particular church. He admitted that he had followed recent controversies in the media with concern. He did not want to see the town break into rival camps, and would not tolerate the church being used to attack any group, or to express hatred of any kind. And he was also aware that the congregation had not elected a new trustee for twelve years, and therefore needed guidance. 
For these reasons the bishop had decided to oversee the process of electing a new trustee. He was glad to hear that two worthy candidates had offered their time for this important responsibility.
The bishop paused and surveyed his audience, looking people in the eye. “I expect,” he said, “a friendly and positive reception for both candidates. No slander, street corner campaigning, or scapegoating will be permitted. People already know each other, and the two coming church events will be more than enough time for those who wish to engage a candidate in friendly conversation.”
He paused again. His tone became firm and forceful. Noise rippled over the audience. “I have decided,” he said, “to attend both this afternoon’s gathering, the festival next Saturday, and the election itself next Sunday. My letter outlining the rules of the election will be handed out at both exits today. Let us all move forward with faith and love…. And now let me turn this service back to Reverend Tuck.”
‘We have hope with this man,’ said a voice inside Abby’s mind.

Ghost Girl - Episode 53

ABBY AND JEREMY’S NIGHT JOURNEY

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Illustration by Lawrence Tate
The following day Abby, Jeremy, and Eddy scraped and painted the front of the abandoned building. Abby painted a large sign saying BIRDWATCHER’S PATH, and set it up at the beginning of her path into the wild area. The scene looked transformed. When Reverend Tuck and Tom Winkle arrived they all decided to explore the interior. The new light bulbs installed by Tuck only made the appalling details more visible: the peeling paint, the dust, the stains of mold, the water damage. And on the second floor there were clear footprints in the dust. Abby was sure one of the stalkers had been there taking photos the night before. The group parted in a state of gloom. Abby and Jeremy remained, sitting on a bench and drinking water by the quart. “What are we going to do,” Jeremy asked, “to cheer ourselves up?”
“I have an idea,” she replied, “but it’s probably a big mistake. I just can’t think of anything else I want to do.”
“Tell me, I’ll listen to anything.”
“I’ve mostly run out of food,” Abby said, “and just about run out of money. And I’ve got a beautiful garden in the forest full of ripe vegetables, grains, and fruits… It will go to waste if we don’t pick a fair share of it. And I feel like getting out of here for a few hours." 
“How do we avoid the risks?” he asked. “Someone will follow you.”
“You go home, and at about midnight you disappear into the forest and meet me at the great oak tree. I can handle it.”
He smiled. “I can find my way in the dark forest too. Maybe not as good as you, but not so far behind. Let’s do it.”

At 11 o’clock that night Abby changed into her black outfit and slid out the back window, with two empty burlap bags under her arm. The sliver of a moon had already disappeared. At the back door of the churchyard she stood and listened for about five minutes. As she was about to turn the key she heard the noise of shoes on gravel. The steps halted for a moment, and then went on around the corner. The sound changed to shoes on leaves, and then faded into the distance. ‘Oh my,’ thought Abby. ‘It’s not enough to keep watchers at the gate 24/7. Now they’ve got to walk sentry duty. Why do they care so much? It must be that they don’t have enough dirt to bury us. They want more.’
She unlocked the door, stepped out, and relocked it. There was no sound but the crickets of summer. She glided under trees and between houses down to Main Street. After a look in all directions, she crossed the street and slipped into the trees on the other side. The most difficult part of her escape was already over. She knew every step of the way to the great oak tree. When she got close she hid in the laurel bushes, watching and listening. She saw Jeremy’s faint silhouette in the starlight, and she crept to within ten feet of him. Suddenly she stood up and saw his body flinch in surprise. But he didn’t make a sound. He took a few steps toward her and whispered, “I thought you’d try something like that.” Abby could hear the admiration in his voice. He’d been on the look-out, but she had won this little game. ‘He’s not mad,’ she thought. ‘He loves that I’m good at it. To him this is a treat.’
They crouched and ducked their way through the thick pine trees, up over rising ground under the maples, and finally down to the river. Abby’s dinghy was still hidden under the brambles, and soon they floated out under the bright stars. Then they climbed up the slope and across the plateau to a thick wall of brambles and vines. Jeremy followed Abby as she crawled on hands and knees and finally on her belly like a snake. Suddenly the sky opened up before them, and they stood looking across the garden to the swamp and the rugged cliffs and towers of stone beyond. With no moon, the stars were all the brighter. A breeze bent the tall amaranth plants, and their heavy dark tops waved and bowed, swinging back and forth. The cool air was delicious. Abby moved to look in Jeremy’s eyes. They opened wide with passionate interest so strong he seemed almost in shock. He gasped in wonder, gazing at the entire area in silence. 
After half an hour of collecting the best of the incredible variety of ripe fruits and vegetables, they sat on a log and looked out on the cliffs and the stars. 
“Much as I hate to say it,” Jeremy told her, “we’ve got to go back and brave the storm for the next few days.” He stood up, and she rose with him. “I want you to know,” he said. “This means so much to me. I never thought my life could be so full, scary as it is.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Whatever happens, I’m with you on this. We won’t give up. I’ll follow you anytime.”
Abby leaned into him, and expected him to kiss her. But he moved at the last second and brushed her cheek with his, and they embraced. She felt a stab of disappointment, totally involuntary. She wasn’t sure if he was too afraid or thought it was a bad idea. One thing was clear: she, Abby, knew it was a bad idea, but wanted to anyway. Her disappointment turned to sorrow and shock over being rejected. At the same time she felt relieved that she wouldn’t have to tell Phoebe that they kissed, and risk the possibility that she and Jeremy had a commitment. And she wouldn’t have to feel confused and guilty with George. It occurred to her that maybe Jeremy was thinking of the unity of their mission. Maybe he guessed that she should stay uncommitted in love for the good of all of them. Jealousy could tear them apart. Maybe she should thank Jeremy for it. ‘Maybe someday,’ she thought. ‘But for now I’m sad and angry with both of us, especially me. I’ve been kidding myself about how I really feel…”

Ghost Girl - Episode 52

HAUNTED UNDER THE STARS

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Illustration by Lawrence Tate
After the Youth Council meeting and a short talk with Reverend Tuck, Abby walked back to her cottage with great hope and fear raging inside. She knew that the last six days – the entire time she had been living in the churchyard – had gone almost impossibly well. She could hardly believe the new opportunities that were opening up in her life, like miraculous gifts from her beloved guardian angel. Her horizons, her view of the future, had expanded as if she had been climbing an incredibly tall tree. Yet it was scary in the same way. A fall now would be a disaster. It was a long way down. 
The moon was a narrow crescent, already setting way beyond Bridge Avenue, Highway 71, and the swamp, out in some mythic land where the moon goes each night. 
Abby brought her flimsy old folding chair outside and relaxed to think over the day and the week. She was immediately reminded of sitting there on her first night in the churchyard, and dreaming of her vision as a child, the night the stars came to earth. The eerie feeling of another world intersecting with this one began to come over her, and she stood up to shake it off. The night seemed haunted with strange intuitions like shadows.
She began to walk around the yard, forcing herself to think through her achievements and the problems to come. The festival was still eight days away, but was already well organized. Phoebe’s plan was moving into place. The band was almost ready. Volunteers were scheduled to work on the abandoned building. The invitations, the vendors, the activities, the possibilities for raising money… the whole game plan was ready for action.
And just before the meeting Abby had heard that Glenda’s friend Ellen, Kayla’s mom, might run for trustee. Ellen and Reverend Tuck would have a talk before the church service tomorrow. Ellen had the kind of reputation that Abby thought would appeal to a majority of the congregation, just in time to be word-of-mouth news at Sunday’s churchyard gathering. Tuck had promised Sammy the job of catering the event, and had approved Phoebe’s plan to run a soccer exhibition, even though he obviously had no idea what that would look like.
Abby walked past the abandoned building to her new path through the living darkness of the wild area to the secret place. Faint noises rustled in the undergrowth, and the familiar owl hooted. The spot seemed magical, very precious. She thought again of the children’s claim that ‘grown-ups always ruin it’. With a shock she realized that this judgment was as true for the whole planet as it was for this tiny area in the churchyard. She imagined what Morphy would do with it. There could be no doubt that he would wipe out all plant and wild life, and build a new office building for his corporation, as if he didn’t have enough space in the 90 floor Geddon Tower in River City. And he would do this despite the abundance of buildings that could be renovated for the same purpose. It was all about domination, control, and revenge.
Yes, the stakes were so high in this trustee election that Abby began to shiver. Something was bound to happen. She knew Morphy would not let her projects go on unchallenged. No matter how small or insignificant they seemed, he clearly had his own view of the larger issues hidden underneath. 
Abby walked back up the path. As she approached the abandoned building, her eye was caught by a faint flicker of light leaking through a boarded up window in the second story. She stopped and stared, and the light was gone. Walking on, she took up a position near the stone wall opposite the building, and patiently watched. A faint light flickered in another window – just for a second, but she was certain it had been there. She walked back and examined the front door. The padlock was in place. There seemed to be no way to climb in a window. Finally she walked out of the churchyard gate and circled around to the Old Stone Road side of the church. The entrance to the abandoned building was also padlocked on that side, and the lower windows were covered with plywood. But Abby noticed that the stone wall continued along the side of the building all the way to the street. It would be easy to stand on it and reach second story windows that were not boarded up.
On the way back Abby saw that a stalker had moved down the sidewalk, obviously to get a view of her on Old Stone Road. The situation was so obvious that Abby waved, but the stalker did not respond. Back in her cottage, feeling tired and depressed, her mind went on obsessing about the situation, examining the pros and cons of waking Tuck and searching the building. She rejected this idea. Any stalker would be gone by now, out the side window to the wall, and then jumping down into the lane and into the cornfield. It would take only a few seconds. 
‘And what would a stalker be doing up there?’ she asked herself. ‘Taking pictures, of course. Their strategy would be to accuse Tuck of negligence and mismanagement, with a frame-up for financial crimes… and of course they’ll slander me as a witch with evil motivations.’ Abby shivered, unable to stop thinking. One thought stood out in her mind: they would surely act before the election.
She lay in bed tossing and turning, her mind repeating the same old thoughts…

Ghost Girl - Episode 51

NEW IDEAS, AND A MEETING WITH SARA

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Illustration by Lawrence Tate
Over the past few days Abby had been mulling over plans for the wild area at the back of the churchyard. She had not forgotten her solemn promise to Tiny and Lucy to save the secret place, and the no-win situation it created for her. Photos of the wild area in the newspaper would appear to most people as an example of appalling neglect. In fact, the stalkers probably already had damning photos of the fallen tree, the overgrown vines, the brambles, poison ivy, the sumac and young maple trees, all fighting for a bit of sun. Abby was all too aware of the hostility of many adults toward wild areas. Powerful people usually want to dominate them, make money off them, and in doing so they destroy them. The art of working with wild areas is not a strong suit of industrial civilization. 
And now the moment of decision had unexpectedly grabbed Abby by the throat. Something would have to be done to make the wild area presentable to the congregation at the outdoor event only two days away. The situation looked hopeless. She sat quietly and became aware of the birds all around her, flitting from branch to branch with their various calls and songs. And then the owl hooted again. 
‘Birdwatchers!!’ thought Abby. ‘Now that’s a group of adults who might appreciate a piece of wild nature! And there are many of them, of all ages! If one edge of this tangle of brush were made into a path a whole area could be open to birdwatchers! And I could make a sign: BIRDWATCHERS’ PATH.’ 
She took a pair of gloves and pruning sheers and began to work. Hours went by. She drank water, ate a snack, and went back to work.
Suddenly it was late in the afternoon, and Abby hurried to shower and change clothes for her meeting with Sara and then the youth council meeting. 
‘Now what do I need to accomplish with this next meeting? Well, Sara asked for it. I should just shut up and listen. But still, what do I expect? A discussion about Amy Zhi and her college professor, who is on the United Nations Panel on Climate Change. And the difficulty is? Ah, the difficulty is our very hidden working relationship with Amy’s father, who is the State Commissioner of Parks. And Sara is an intern writing for the Evansville Record. And we need some good press about the coming trustee election…’
Sara was on time, and carried a bag of food. “Stephanie and Sammy packed this up and wouldn’t accept a cent! And they’re closing early and bringing more food for the meeting.” The bag contained two fried potato squash and tomato sandwiches and containers cocoa and mint tea. Abby was ecstatic. “I’m so lucky!” she cried.
In moments the food was gone. Abby could feel Sara’s dark eyes examining her. She was awed by Sara’s atmosphere, her cosmopolitan manner, and perceived her as an ambassador from a more sophisticated world. 
“We both know a lot,” Sara began, “but we know different things, like yin and yang. I hope we can bring these things together.”
“I was just thinking that,” Abby replied. She walked to the door and closed the it quietly. “Let’s keep our voices down. We have to be so careful…”
“You’ve hit on just the thing I need to know!” Sara burst out, trying unsuccessfully to whisper. She leaned forward. “What’s the danger exactly? And what is our project? I know what our student organization does and wants to do. There’s nothing secret about that. We’re an open book. You folks live in another world, but you’ve hit the media with a splash. I can tell all sorts of things are going on that I can’t see.”
“I’m so glad you care!” exclaimed Abby. “I want to work with you and your friends on so many things… But Sara, you asked me to meet with you and Amy Zhi. You must have an angle on this already. Let me know where you’re starting from and then I’ll be more useful.”
“Okay… let’s see… First, I met Amy in our Students Against Fossil Fuel group – we call it STAFF – and now Amy and I are both taking the internship program. About twenty of us work at different sites and meet once a week with our professor. Amy’s presentation fascinated me. Then I started hearing about Middletown from my uncle Terrence and my cousin Shannon, and then from my boss at my worksite, the Evansville Record. Now I’m hired to stay on after the internship is over.”
“Please,” Abby said. “Go on! I want to hear it all.”
“Now the thing starts to get hot,” Sara continued. “My boss, Freddy Baez, is obsessed with Middletown. He wants information, a real investigation, but not in order to expose a scandal. He suspects that something very good, something important, is going on…”
“So why does Amy want to meet with me?” Abby asked.
“Well, it’s really Amy and I and our professor, Roberto Richardson, who want to meet with you. Our jobs demand that we know more. Our STAFF group is interested. Roberto and his committee at the United Nations are studying biogas as a renewable energy source. And the people that we’ve asked all sent us to you.”
‘To me!’ thought Abby. ‘How did I suddenly become in charge of all this?’

Ghost Girl - Episode 50

EMERGENCY PLANNING

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Illustration by Lawrence Tate
It seemed as if Abby’s head had hardly touched the pillow when the morning sun shone full on her face. ‘I’m supposed to be doing something…’ she thought. The memory of her late-night talk with George flooded back into her mind, and she quickly organized her immediate problems. 
‘Okay… George’s spying has exposed Morphy’s plot. All these stalkers are his investigators. They intend to assemble evidence of Reverend Tuck’s financial incompetence and use it in a newspaper campaign to support a trustee in the coming election who will vote to fire him, and sell the churchyard to Morphy’s business empire. I will then lose my job as gardener, and our whole community project will be destroyed. And this victory will bring Morphy a step closer to obtaining mining rights to the forest preserve. All my fears have come true… this is a disaster in the making. We have two weeks to do something…’
She dressed, drank tea, and was out the door. The sun was bright in the deep blue sky, a gorgeous day. She knocked a few times on the side door of the church, and Tuck appeared. His frown was not welcoming, but Abby was very motivated, and brushed his bad mood aside. “I need a few minutes of your time,” she said. “Right now, if possible.”
Tuck took in her serious expression and invited her up to his office. Abby took a seat at the long table. One end was covered with a mass of papers. “Let’s just avoid all that,” Tuck said, waving at the jumbled pile. Abby could see files, receipts and bills, lists of figures, notebooks, letters. ‘Oh my God,’ she thought. ‘Is this how he organizes the church finances? He needs someone like my mother!’
“Okay, what is it? I need to get back to this…” He motioned to the mess as if it were garbage. “I’ve neglected it for far too long.”
In a very flat, unemotional tone of voice Abby laid out the facts that George had discovered. Her news hit Tuck like a hammer. He stared at her, totally speechless. Then he put his face in his hands. 
“It might not be as bad as you think,” said Abby.
He looked up and shook his head. “No, it’s even worse than you can imagine. I should have asked for help long ago. And no one has volunteered to run for trustee against Becky Scutter. People are afraid.’
“First of all,” Abby replied, struggling to maintain her matter-of-fact manner, “I’ll find a candidate to run for trustee. Put that out of your mind. Second: we are capable of moving very fast. You should ask Terrence Williams to help you.”
“He’s a highly paid lawyer,” replied Tuck, “not an accountant.”
“I would certainly want him as my advisor,” returned Abby. “Third: How about asking Bishop Beckett for help?” 
Tuck grimaced. “It’s true he is a crucial ally, but he cannot hide this chaos from the trustees. It is possible that one or more of the trustees is hiding information from me. In that case he would intervene, but the issue is probably just my own mess.”
“I see…” Abby replied, her mind moving at lightning speed. “Fourth: Today we get Eddy and his father over here to give us at least the illusion that the abandoned building is about to be a construction site. Perhaps they can put up scaffolding.”
“Hmm… that’s a thought,” said Tuck, staring off into space. “Of course that will cost money we don’t have.” Abby’s thoughts were inspired, coming into her mind to solve every problem. “We’ll make the money,” she replied. “A week from today at the first festival. Phoebe already has the event laid out. We’ll fill in the details at the Youth Council meeting tonight.”
Tuck looked up and smiled. “You have no idea how much money we need,” he said. “But still, you’re giving me a little hope.”
“This is the kind of work my mother does,” said Abby, pointing at the chaos of papers. “I’m going to get her to volunteer. Now… time is short. It’s time to get to work.” Tuck laughed. “Okay, okay!” he said. “Go! I’ll do my best.”
Abby held her head high and walked out onto Bridge Avenue under the eyes of two stalkers on the bench across the street. They looked up but did not move. She headed down the street and into the coffee shop. Sammy was on the phone, Stephanie was making sandwiches, and Sara Williams was taking orders from a couple of booths full of people. In a few moments Abby explained that she wasn’t there to work because she had been hired by the pre-school, but… she desperately needed help. She persuaded Stephanie to ask her boyfriend Eddy to set up scaffolding, and reminded Sara of their meeting that evening. They were desperate for more information, but Abby said she couldn’t stay and quickly walked back out onto the sidewalk. One of the stalkers was standing nearby pretending to be interested in the toy store window. He turned toward her as she approached. She could feel his staring eyes, and stepped past him without a glance.

Ghost Girl - Episode 49

GEORGE AND ABBY

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GEORGE AND ABBY
Illustration by Lawrence Tate
Abby turned the key and opened the door a couple of feet. George stood in the doorway. A gleam from the moon, now high in the sky, shone on his face. Abby saw both hope and sadness in his eyes. She closed and locked the door behind her. “Follow me,” she whispered, and led George to the flat spot in the privet fort where they had met before. George’s face was now in shadow, hard to read. Abby sat with her hood up, almost invisible. They did not touch, but sat with tension in the air. “You know these men spying on the churchyard?” whispered George. “This is a different ball game than we started out with. The stakes have gone way up. I just want you to know.”
“I thought so.” Abby’s voice was low and almost inaudible. George had to move closer just to hear her. “But how do you know for sure?" she asked.
“Peabody actually introduced me to one of these… whatever you call them…” George searched for the right word.
“I call them stalkers,” said Abby.
“Yeah, stalkers. We had a little meeting in Peabody’s office. He wanted advice on whether one of these guys could just walk into the churchyard and take photos. His idea is that Tuck is mismanaging the church, and the Standard is going to publish a series on it. I told them Tuck would notice if they just came in taking pictures, and it might be offensive. So then Peabody wants me to do it! He especially wants shots of the abandoned building. I told him I wasn’t sure Tuck would allow me to do that, and Peabody said I don’t need permission, I’m a friend and no one will stop me. I told him I’d see, and he didn’t like that answer. ‘Do it!’ he said. ‘This is what we pay you for!’ It’s getting me stressed out, this spy game. And I overheard something… Morphy might make an offer to buy the churchyard and build offices right here where we’re sitting.”
“Oh no!” exclaimed Abby. She was stunned. “Thank God you came tonight! We’ve got to fix up that building in a hurry, and then you can take a few photos. Delay a few days! Maybe we can make things presentable.”
“And there’s more bad news,” George resumed. He was frowning, taking no pleasure in what he had to say. “They also want pictures of you, especially a good shot of you not working. ‘As embarrassing as possible,’ Peabody said. The stalker told us he’d tried but couldn’t get a good angle.”
Abby tried to be casual, saying: “That must have been when Jeremy brought the seeds and guitar and stuff…” She was nervous and stumbled over the words.
“Apparently Jeremy is working in the churchyard now,” George said.
Abby tried to maintain a low, even tone of voice. “Yeah,” she replied. “He’s a Protector. They’ve made fixing up the churchyard a priority. Chi Chi assigned Jeremy to work here. He even got Jim to give him time off from the gas station.”
“You know Jeremy has quit the band,” George told her. “I’m not sure I like all this.” 
Abby was starting to panic, and changed the subject. “Guess who came back from Rivergate with me today? Ishmael, Isaiah, and Cali. They’re all moving into the greenhouse. And the concert is definitely on at Sara and Cali’s student rally!”
George finally smiled. “I know,” he said. “I’ve come straight from the greenhouse. Everyone was there tonight… except you. I mean it’s sad you couldn’t be there.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” said Abby, even though she did feel sad, and intensely curious. She looked up at George and smiled. “You can help me! Tell me what’s been going on. What’s everybody doing?”
“We’re practicing like mad. Almost six hours we’ve been at it. Phoebe says we have to be ready to play a week from Saturday. That’s going to be the first festival.”
“Hmmm… So things are good then?” she asked.
“It’s good in some ways. The band is getting real fans. I’m really proud of it… except… I’m not happy. This business of being a spy is getting in the way of what I’d really like to do… like go to your cottage and trade songs on the guitar.”
“George!” hissed Abby. “Think about the message you just brought me! And someone broke into the back window last night while I was away! Look, being a spy must be unbearable. I think you should quit. They’re devious, and powerful, and take revenge.”
George smiled in a ray of moonlight. “Tell me the truth now,” he said. “Am I right in thinking that my friends – like you, for instance – really, really need me to stick with it?”
“It’s true,” Abby had to admit. “Your news might save all of us. At least it gives us a chance.”
“We’re like soldiers,” George said. “What we’re doing seems to matter a lot… Look, I really should be going…”
“Be careful, George, please!”
“I learned it from you,” he said. “I’m invisible, as silent as a black cat.” He stood up. Abby followed him down the path to the iron door, and unlocked it.
“See you tomorrow night,” she whispered. They hugged as people do for a kiss on the cheek, but in the dark ending up kissing on the lips, just for a second. George turned and walked away.

Ghost Girl - Episode 48

WAITING IN THE DARK

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Illustration by Lawrence Tate
Back in the cottage, Abby made an omelet with fried finger beans and sliced potato squash. She was running low on provisions, and carefully thought through different options for visiting her forest garden and returning with the food she wanted, which would be more than she could possibly eat. She would have to go at night, and could never carry all the ripe fruits and vegetables and grains ready for harvest. And it would be more fun with another person…
Her thoughts returned to her 1PM date with George. ‘He likes me,’ she thought. ‘But I’m played out.’ With sudden clarity out of nowhere she realized she had no space for a boyfriend in her life. ‘I mean it’s so obvious,’ she told herself. ‘I’m like a soldier on a mission. George is a spy with a concealed identity. I’m stalked by strangers. I feel guilty and frightened if I hang out with Jeremy. He likes Phoebe and she likes him. And things probably won’t work out for them either. This being in a group on a mission business is a no-win situation for romance. I wish I could talk to Phoebe. She understands.’
Abby lay down to relax for a few minutes. Her thoughts trailed off into dream images…

‘Oh no! I’ve overslept. What about George? What time is it?’ She grabbed for her cell phone but it was gone. Jeremy was holding it for her. ‘Oh! I’ve been such a fool!’
She jumped up, changed into black clothing, and threw water on her face. ‘I’m going to get through this. I’ll wait for hours if necessary. If he’s gone I’ll get a message to him somehow. Who can help me? Jeremy can be a go-between.’
She grabbed the key to the churchyard back door, and climbed out the back window into the night. Faint light glimmered from an almost half moon rising low in the sky, throwing shadows across the churchyard. 
‘Let’s see, it’s how many days after the full moon? It was just last Friday or Saturday, less than a week ago. If the moon rises half an hour later every day, that means it would rise close to midnight tonight. I might be on time. Let’s do this right.’
She stood completely still. The crickets were making their droning sound. Nothing moved. The temperature had dropped, and the cool air felt wonderful. She put her hands in her pockets and walked silently behind the apple trees to the privet hedge, and crawled through the small opening next to the wall into the leaf pile. The damp leaves stuck to her hands and face and clothes, but made almost no noise. She glided down the small path by the wall to the iron door.
Nothing moved. The crickets droned on, but louder. She waited, and waited, her back against the wall, right next to the door. She concentrated on listening. It was amazing how many different sounds emerged over the course of an hour: a rustling of leaves, the hooting of an owl, the sad call of a bird she didn’t know, a faint movement among the vines… the owl hooted again. A cat yowled in the distance. A loud truck came and went on Bridge Avenue. Something that might have been a possum slowly threw a shadow on the grass. Voices in her mind told her she was too late. Another bird call came louder, like a warning. The eyes of a raccoon, bright in the moonlight, stared at Abby.
A faint tapping noise came from the iron door. It stopped. It came once more.
“George,” whispered Abby faintly.
“I’m here.”

Ghost Girl - Episode 47

TWO INVITATIONS FOR ABBY

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Illustration by Carlos Uribe
Abby pushed herself out the door and tried to work off her energy by moving the potted plants and trays of seedlings to the spots in the garden she had chosen for them. Her thoughts continued to grapple with the implications of the minute holes drilled in her window. Someone had broken into her cottage the night before, and had done it in a very professional way.
Tuck appeared at his side door and called to her. “Give me a few minutes,” he said. She followed him up to his office, dreading another piece of bad news. 
“Both Glenda and George,” Tuck told her, “stopped by the front desk to see you. Since I’d left Janet with instructions not to allow visitors, they left you these notes.” He handed her two envelopes. “I hate to impose on you this way, but you really do need to get your own phone.”
Abby’s depression changed to a flash of anger. “Someone broke into my cottage last night, using quite a bit of skill. They could easily be eavesdropping on our phones.”
Tuck looked bitterly off into space. “I was afraid of that,” he said. “But I didn’t think they’d jump to such an extreme.”
“Why wouldn’t they go as far as they can?” Abby replied. Tuck turned white with a frozen expression on his face. Red blotches appeared on his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I’ll need time to… digest the implications… It seems I’ve underestimated the dangers here.”
“I’m going through the same thing,” Abby said, as she rose and walked to the door. 
Back in the cottage she grabbed the note from George from her back pocket and read the scribbled words: 

Abby, why is your phone turned off? I’ve got news you
must hear right away. I’ll be at the back door at 1AM.
- George

She felt that George was taking too many risks, but she didn’t dare enter Scutter’s Market across the street and try to talk to him on the job. In fact she had no idea what to do, and grabbed Glenda’s note get her mind onto a different subject. She read:

Hi Abby, the interview with Rose and Rob is on for 6:30. Come to my house by 5, bring whatever ID and resume you may have. Tiny and I will go with you to the pre-school.
- Glenda

‘Resume?’ thought Abby. ‘I don’t have any resume, or even a computer to type it on. And it’s not as if there’s much to put on it.’ But she definitely wanted the job at the pre-school, and felt determined to try no matter how hopeless it seemed. She showered, found the most respectable clothes she owned, and hurried down Bridge Avenue, birth certificate and social security card in her pocket. ‘Rose and Rob are getting old,’ she said to herself. ‘That school runs 10 hours a day. Do they have anyone to help them?’
Glenda and Tiny were delighted to see her. Abby told them about her previous jobs and very brief child care experience, and Glenda typed the resume. 
They arrived at the Todd farmhouse at 6:30 sharp. Rob invited Tiny and Glenda to the playroom and Rose walked Abby to the children’s dining room, where they sat in chairs far too small for them. Abby found herself totally at ease. Rose’s questions all seemed to be an effort to find reasons to hire her. Abby make it clear that she was only looking for a morning job. The 8:30 to 1pm shift would be perfect. Her responsibilities at the church could not be neglected. When Rose discovered that Abby played the guitar she beamed and smiled, clapped her hands and said, “Oh, just what we need!”  
When they rejoined Glenda, Tiny, and Rob, Rose handed her the guitar, and everyone waited. Abby’s mind went blank. But then she thought of a few songs her father had taught her long ago. She hummed a tune to a few chords and launched into the signature song from the old Walt Disney TV show:

When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are
When you wish upon a star your dreams come true.

She sang it twice and then invited Tiny to sing with her. Tiny joined in with enthusiasm and Rose and Rob joined in too. Later on Abby explained that she used to run gardening activities for families at the Half Moon Florist, her previous employer. Rose invited her to try out gardening and music as a volunteer with the children for three mornings the coming week. They spent half an hour filling out paperwork, and Glenda drove Abby home. 
Everything had gone well, but Abby remembered that after the mob scene at the abandoned house – only a few days ago -- she had said in her TV interview that she was ‘living’ in the abandoned house. Suddenly she felt certain her paperwork would never be approved… but somewhere in her heart she still had hope. 
Then her thoughts shifted to her coming late-night meeting with George.

Ghost Girl - Episode 46

THE COTTAGE WINDOW

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Illustration by Lawrence Tate
Before she left the church Abby repackaged her rolled blanket and garden tools to look exactly as they had before when they were hiding the mapstick. As she walked back through the churchyard she glanced across the street and saw a familiar stalker on a bench in front of the Middletown Standard office. Stopping near the shed – but still in view of the street – she unpacked her bundle and then stored the rakes and spade and hoe with the other tools, and threw the blanket and clothesline on a shelf. With a growing feeling of anxiety she walked over to the door. Her key turned smoothly, just as before. The lock showed no signs of tampering. Inside everything appeared completely normal. She checked her books, her clothes, her plans for the garden, the cabinets. Nothing seemed suspicious. 
‘What a surprise!’ she thought. ‘Maybe I’ve been a bit paranoid, overdoing this whole thing.’ She glanced out the kitchen window and the stalker was still sitting quietly as before. ‘Is that really one of the same men? I can’t be sure. They’re all in their 30s, dark sport jacket even on hot days, slacks. Could he just be waiting for somebody, and I’m making all this up? But there’s a few of them and they are all in similar uniform, sort of like a stock broker or financial advisor, but I’m sure they don’t work for Bentley next door.’
Abby began inspecting the cottage for any sign of intruders. She still couldn’t quite believe her intuition had been so far off base. The lock on the kitchen window was closed, looking just as before. She checked the two other windows on the other walls. Nothing appeared unusual. She even checked the tiny bathroom window that was too small for a normal man to climb through. Still nothing. Finally she entered the little room at the back that extended toward the churchyard wall. It too was locked. But she noticed a faint smudge on the windowsill. It had probably been there before. There was no reason for it to catch the eye. But to make sure she checked the floor around the window and saw a faint, thin brown line, only visible because it was dark against the pale plywood floor. She touched it and found a trace of dirt on her finger. She rubbed it, and felt a hint of moisture. It was definitely not dust. Her heart began to beat faster, and she was transformed into a bloodhound on the scent. She crawled along the floor and found one more faint line, curved like the side of a shoe. ‘Of course! It rain last night! There’s no way this was here before.’
Abby checked the lock on the window again, and this time she saw a barely visible scratch, an incredibly thin line of white on the dark metal of the switch of the lock. ‘But what good would that do anyone? Pressure there would only push the lock closed.’ She opened the lock and saw a similar minute scratch on the other side. Her eye was caught by a slight irregularity in the glass an inch or two away. There seemed to be an almost microscopic hole coming through the glass at a tight angle toward the lock. From straight ahead you would never notice it at all. She immediately looked in the same spot on the other side of the lock, and found an identical irregularity in the glass. Rubbing it with her finger, she could just barely feel it, and ran to a bowl of odds and ends in the kitchen cabinet. Returning with a safety pin, she probed the tiny holes. The pin could not enter them, but the holes were there.
‘Something made those scratches,’ she thought. ‘Someone opened and closed the lock. So much for being paranoid. I’m not being paranoid enough! What else did they do in here?’
Abby began searching the house again for anything strange, with her heart beating faster. The familiar signs of panic spread through her body. ‘This isn’t local people doing this,’ she thought. ‘This is done by strangers, hired professionals, expensive trained investigators!’ She glanced up at the benches in front of the office across the street, and once again saw a stalker there, pretending to read a newspaper. ‘It’s so obvious.’
Her life felt out of control.

Ghost Girl - Episode 45

HIDING THE MAPSTICK IN THE TREASURE ROOM

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Illustration by Carlos Uribe
Junior looked his watch. “I’ve only a few minutes, and then we’ve got to get you and the mapstick safely to the church.”
“But I still don’t understand,” Abby insisted. “How are we going to deal with dreamstone? We can’t make it public! That will only provoke greed, misunderstanding, fortune hunting…”
“Of course,” Junior interrupted. “None of us know how to handle this problem, except the way our ancestors have handled it for countless years. One of your main gifts – you and your friends in Middletown, -- has been to distract these fortune hunters, playing David to their Goliath. You and your friends have to continue on that path. It’s a crucial part of the overall plan.” Abby frowned and looked frustrated. “But… you want this new model, the Good Road, to be influential around the globe. This sounds like a plan to save the world! Isn’t that absurdly far-fetched, even grandiose? We’re just a bunch of kids.”
“Just remember one thing,” said Junior. “We are not alone. There are many doing the same thing, quietly and invisibly building the Good Road, hoping to link up with others before they get stomped out. You’re job is to reach out to them.”
“And how do I do that?” Abby muttered.
“Let’s say you start with the church activities. Save Reverend Tuck from defeat. Go to Evansville. Work with Sara and her political group. Help the band to expand their audience. And help Amy Zhi in secret. Link up with her professor and the climate change panel. All that is possible for you and your friends… Look, we don’t know what the ultimate fate of dreamstone will be, or should be. All we can do now is fulfill our responsibility as well as we can. As the Keeper of the Mapstick, your role will change. You’ll have to take it step by step. But right now we’ve got to head up Cemetery Lane to the church, where you will ask Tuck for a place to hide the mapstick. And I’m late for my meeting with our new agricultural cooperative.”
They walked out into the front display area of the garden center. Alison yelled from behind the counter, “Chi Chi is loading flats and pots of young plants into the van for Abby. He’s going to drive you.” They stepped out into the parking lot, where Chi Chi was waiting for them. He took the mapstick and carefully slid it behind the front seats. In a moment they were on their way. 
Abby stared at the cargo behind her, where literally hundreds of plants were laid out, most in small cubicles, 24 per tray, and a few in large pots, the upper leaves against the roof of the van. Pulling up to the churchyard, Chi Chi said, “Unload the plants first, just leave them inside the gate on the grass.” They worked fast. 
“Now,” Chi Chi whispered, “take that in the side door and find Tuck.” He was pointing at the mapstick. “And before we attract more attention, let’s go, Junior, we’re late.”
Abby had hardly ever seen Chi Chi so abrupt, but she had no time to think. She calmly walked her bundle of tools hiding the mapstick up the churchyard path and knocked on the side door. She knocked again, and again, and again, struggling not to look at the stalkers on the sidewalk behind her. Then she saw Tuck come out of the abandoned school building and up the path. “I hope you haven’t waited long,” he said, and turned a key in the door. “Why are you carrying all those tools? You look awfully serious.”
“I am serious,” returned Abby. “These tools conceal… an heirloom, given to me by my father. I need to keep it in the safest place you can think of.”
Tuck watched her expression carefully, and led her down the stairs to the large meeting room, now silent and empty. “I see you’re anxious about something. What’s wrong with putting it in your cottage?”
“You know these men across the street watch night and day. What will stop them from breaking into my cottage whenever I’m not there?”
“Is this something they would want?”
“I have reason to think so…” Abby whispered, “though I’m not sure what this thing is. But I am sure that the loss of it would be a catastrophe for me and those who care for me.”
“That serious…” muttered Tuck. “Wait here.” He headed up the stairs and returned moments later. They walked down a narrow stairway to a sub-basement Abby had never seen before. Behind old broken furniture, wooden chests, and other clutter, they arrived at a metal door. He took from his pocket a silver key. The long metal prong sprouted four evenly spaced wings, full of indentations and curves. He opened the door and flipped on a light. Abby gazed at a roomful of amazing objects. There were carved tables, ancient vestments and robes, statues, jeweled rings and necklaces, crosses on tall staffs, a huge chest of drawers, and two paintings framed in gold. One portrayed a woman in a crimson robe with arms outstretched, standing on a crescent moon. Another presented a crowned woman with a staff and wings, enthroned amidst a circle of angels. Her skin and dress were deep red.
“See that low table?” Tuck said. “Set it there, back near the wall.” Abby untied the tools and lifted the mapstick free of it’s wrapping. She realized that it was the first time she had ever held it alone, unconcealed. ‘How could it possibly be so light?” she wondered, and placed it on the table.

Ghost Girl - Episode 43

BUILDING THE GOOD ROAD

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Illustration by Lawrence Tate
Sharon pulled the lever and the bow of the boat sank to the ground, becoming an open ramp. “It you’re staying here, take all your stuff,” said Sharon. “The River Queen and the carts are going to Evansville.”
“Yeah, we’re going to sell the new vegetables at the college market,” Sara told Abby.
“Everybody over here in the shade,” called Sharon. “Come in close.” The group gathered round. “Thanks for the best ride ever! And one more thing,” Sharon added in a low tone. “This thing.” She touched Abby’s bundle. “Let’s all forget we ever saw it, unless you’re privately with each other. Got that?”
“I understand,” said Junior. “Of course.” All agreed, looking at each other and nodding. Lluvia came up close to Diego and mouthed a few words, totally in silence. Abby could read her lips saying “The Ghost Girl is the Keeper.”
“Okay,” said Sharon. “We’re off. On to Half Moon and Evansville.”
Sara called to Abby, “See you tomorrow at 5:30!” Abby waved, and then followed Junior around the garden center to a side door. He led her to Alison’s personal office and herb storage room. The shelves on three walls were full of glass jars of different sizes and shapes, containing leaves and powders and oils. A side table held a butcher block with knives and small utensils. Books and a window took up the fourth wall. A desk, computer and filing cabinets cluttered the central area. Abby set the mapstick carefully on the floor and took a seat. Wasting no time, Junior launched into a torrent of words: “I’ve only got about 45 minutes. We need to talk in a hurry. My Dad filled me in a little bit, and now I’m all yours.” Junior was restless, and paced around as he spoke.
“Nice job at the Open Gate,” began Abby. “I see you have a plan, like a military campaign. Suddenly I’m a part of it, but I don’t see all the pieces. Sonny acts like I’m supposed to know everything but I don’t. I’m having trouble with the big picture. How would you describe our major goal? How does it all fit together?”
“As you know,” Junior replied, “this is a long story. But I’m going to keep it brief. It’s obvious that Rivergate and Hidden Valley have in many ways a different way of life than the wide world around us. It almost seems like a freakish accident, but there it is. Undeniable. Now, it seemed for… maybe two hundred years or more, that the larger world of getting rich, with powerful organizations gathering the earth’s resources to amass huge fortunes, was the way of the future. We appeared to be a relic of the past. But as time went on the picture changed. And now… with every passing year we are more convinced we have a gift that the world needs, a bridge over the raging sea. The dark side of the pillaging of the earth has come to haunt us all, rich and poor, in every part of the world.” Abby was about to speak, but Junior raised his hand. “Okay, you know all that. But you aren’t thinking about the implications of it. Let me spell them out. You know the legend of the Good Road and the Bad Road. The Good Road was neglected, and has to be re-discovered and built again. Much of the world is on the Bad Road, and people are starting to panic. But they are unsure what to do, and tend to deny the problem, which only makes them more frightened and desperate. Our job is to expand the Good Road, build it up so that other people can join in. And many others – all over the world – are also struggling to build the Good Road, but we haven’t reached any critical mass yet. That’s because those who profit from the Bad Road have enormous power, and try to hide and destroy the Good Road. And if we show ourselves too openly, we risk getting stepped on, getting wiped out. So we have to grow quietly. We have to establish ourselves in a strong way before we get too much attention.”
“Okay,” said Abby. “I follow you. That’s one of my problems, understanding what has to be expanded and what has to be hidden.”
“Right. You will be in touch with many people, and will have a more central role as events start moving. So I’m going to outline what I call the package, with the key building blocks. The first key you already understand as well as I: widespread local agriculture using the art of seed saving, developing varieties of trees and plants adapted to the local climate that grow in harmony together and not only feed people, but provide energy and other materials throughout each particular area. We’ve made fabulous progress here, becoming stewards of the forest and thriving on it’s benefits, drawing in the local farms, spreading the best varieties of seed, teaching methods tested over hundreds, maybe thousands of years. And we’ve done this while eliminating fossil fuel completely. An essential part of our way is the art of composting. No long-term agriculture or renewable natural gas is possible without it. You are familiar with all this, but now we need to spread the knowledge, join with others to make this a global trend.”

Ghost Girl - Episode 42

HIGH WATER ON THE HALF MOON

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HIGH WATER ON THE HALF MOON
Illustration by Carlos Uribe
The flooded river swerved around the fallen tree and over the bank, flowing through the edge of the forest. “Keep it slow and straight,” said Sharon. “That’s it, that’s it. See the cut branches? Just barely to the right of it. Fight the current pushing us to shore!”
Lluvia and Diego slanted their oars in the water to force the bow to the left, and the current began to swing the stern around to the right. “Let it go! Let it go!” screamed Sharon. The Caletas withdrew their oars. They heard the motor suddenly roar, and felt the boat shoot forward, rising up out of the water a few inches. Sharon used the new leverage to steer from the stern. They bore down upon the opening, brushed the branches just to their left, holding straight. They accelerated down the chute, and in seconds were in open water moving back to the center of the river.
Abby slapped Lluvia on the back and cheered. People gave each other high fives, and yelled compliments to Sharon, but she did not respond, keeping her eyes on the water ahead. “All right now, back to business,” she said. “Nice going, but watch the water. Slow us down a bit. Cali, watch carefully. I think we’ll take the left side of Rock Island and stay left past Ghost Point.”
“We’ll make it easy,” responded Diego.
Sharon had let the motor idle, but the coasting speed was fast. The Caletas gently held them back. “There’s Rock Island!” called Cali. The boat gradually moved to the left bank. “Kayak ahead!” yelled Cali. “It’s heading toward the Rock Island chute!”
After a few seconds of silence, Sharon yelled, “Fast to the right. Slow us down. Taking Rock Island on the right. We’ll run the Ghost Point bar!”
The Caletas worked their oars, straining their muscles against the raging current. The boat swung to the right, but the island seemed to be moving toward them very fast. Sharon gunned the motor and steered hard to the right. The stern swung downstream with a sickening slide. “Left, left!” she shouted. The bow turned downstream and the boat slowly straightened out. The motor went back into idle, and the River Queen missed the island to their left by twenty feet, coasting along safely.
‘I’ve never been this close to the Ghost River,’ thought Abby. She studied the bank to her right, and noticed Lluvia doing the same thing. The cliffs and waterline boulders suddenly became a low cave like the upper part of an open mouth. A stream of clear water issued forth into the Half Moon, pushing the boat away with the current. There was no splashing or white water at the cave mouth. The new current hit the Half Moon under water, and flowed mysteriously from a hidden source. The clear water was visible as it joined the Half Moon, and the drift carried them away from the dangerous rocks near the mouth. “Don’t stare!” yelled Sharon. “Slow us down a bit. A little more. We want to take the first bridge nice and easy, and keep slowing down to land just after the second bridge on the right. There won’t be much room to come ashore, but we’ll find a few feet of mud and grass. Cali, get ready with the rope. Junior, help her. Diego, take the stern rope. Jump out as soon as we hit land. Keep the stern from swinging.”
The boat lost speed, stayed safely in the center of the river, and passed under Bridge Avenue with no problem. The Caletas gently slanted toward the right bank, struggling to hold their paddles against the water. The boat lost more speed, wavering in the water. The motor idled, and they drifted uncertainly toward the right opening under the Cemetery Bridge. “Slower, more, more, closer to the right. Still more!”
They shaved the side of the opening under the bridge. The Caletas pushed on their oars, still slanting to the right. 
“Hold on!” shouted Sharon. She gunned the motor in reverse. The side of the bow slid up the muddy bank and stuck with a jerk. Cali, Junior, and Diego leaped ashore as the stern swung downstream. Diego immediately circled the rope around a thin birch tree that leaned under the pressure. 
“Everybody off fast,” came Sharon’s order. They scrambled into ankle deep water. Cali and Junior on the bow rope pulled the now much lighter River Queen up the bank. They heaved on the line in unison. “Again,” ordered Sharon. Finally they tied the rope to a willow tree, and rubbed their hands.
“Should have worn gloves,” said Cali.

Ghost Girl - Episode 41

A WILD RIDE

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Illustration by Carlos Uribe

“So,” Abby asked Sonny, “Just one more thing before I sleep. What did you mean when you said, ‘Isn’t that a coincidence’?
“We’re too tired to go into it. You and Sharon are in for a wild ride down the river tomorrow. Listen to that rain!”
“But I’m so curious!”
“All right, but what I say will only make you more curious, and it makes me curious too. When I mentioned that you are the custodian of the Young Warriors’ story, I recalled that traditionally, the person who holds the mapstick is called the Keeper of the Mapstick, or just the Keeper for short. That hard to define word, ‘keeper’, can also mean custodian or protector. You are now the Keeper. That’s all for tonight. Get some sleep!”
Sharon was already having breakfast with Sonny when Abby woke and dressed for the boat ride. She heard that Sara, Junior, Isaiah, Ishmael, and Cali would all be traveling with them. Sharon said, “It’s perfect weather. But wait ‘till you see the river. Very high water, almost flood level again. I wouldn’t even chance it, but we’ll have the Caletas with us. Abby’s mind caught an elusive memory. “River Girl and Explorer Boy!” she said. “They were in the Young Warriors Club when I was no more than 9 years old! Luvia and Diego Caleta.”
“You do remember,” said Sharon. “I’m so glad. You’re still the same girl even though you’re grown up, with responsibilities.”
“And I’ve got to pack in a few minutes!” said Abby in a panic. “Sonny, can I borrow a few garden tools, just some old rakes or spades you have around. And maybe a thin blanket.” He smiled at her in approval. “I’ve collected a few things already," he said, "just outside the door.” Abby and Sharon brought two rakes, a hoe, and an old spade and some clothesline into the seed room. Sonny threw them a flannel blanket. They spread it out on the floor and put the mapstick on one side. They rolled it up good and tight and then surrounded it with the tools, and tied them all together in a tight bundle. Sharon made a loop in the middle to carry it, and presented it to Abby. 
It was truly a beautiful day. From where they stood at the edge of the path they saw the sun sparkle on the endlessly moving water. Abby was trying to get used to carrying the mapstick. She felt so conspicuous, as if she were carrying a spear, something people would stare at. And her fears turned out to be well founded. As Cali, Sara, Isaiah, Ishmael, and Junior greeted her, their eyes kept shifting to her bundle. 
“Here, let me help you with that,” said Sharon. “I’ll find a good place for it on the River Queen. It’s high priority cargo.” Sharon raised her voice for the group to hear. Abby breathed a sigh of relief.
They all stepped into the boat, shouting hellos and finding places to sit. Lluvia and Diego each held the end seat on the two benches, and showed off the gleaming oars in their hands. Isaiah joined Sharon back in the cabin, and helped her tie the mapstick bundle along the floor flush with the side of the boat.
“Okay, cast off that line, Ishmael,” said Sharon. In a moment she backed out into the fast water, and turned downstream. The boat picked up speed, and in less than a minute moved past the island into the faster, clearer water of the Half Moon. Abby felt excitement surge through her body as they picked up speed. The boat raced through the pillars at the Highway 71 Bridge, and they tore past the marshland toward the cliffs on their right. “We’ll run the bar at Cedar Point,” yelled Sharon, obviously speaking to Lluvia and Diego, who were poised on either side, oars ready just above the water. “Then we’ll cross right and slow way down. Just below the big boulder there’s a tree down across the river from the left that I cut through on the right hand side yesterday. We had to unload, but today we just might go through. When you see it coming hug the right side and prepare to stop if necessary.”
“Canoe dead center!” screamed Cali. 
“I got it!” returned Sharon. “Stay well to the right, slow down a little.” Diego pushed his oar slowly underwater and the boat turned a bit. Lluvia pressed her oar into the rushing water a couple of feet deep like her brother’s. The boat seemed to rock as if a wave were passing under them from behind. “Okay, let up,” Sharon said. In seconds they passed a canoe with riders drifting down the river in the center. “Cindy!” yelled Cali and Lluvia, and waved. “Take the down tree on the right,” called Sharon. “It’s coming right up!”
“There’s the pourover on the down tree,” shouted Cali. “The water rises two feet!”
“More to the right!” ordered Sharon. “Slow, slow!” The engine was barely idling. The River Queen was drifting, held back by the oars plunged into the water. The Caletas struggled to hold them. The fast current threatened to bring the boat broadside. The fallen tree was just ahead. “Look at that water!” came Cali’s frantic voice. “Way over the bank among the trees! No landing room at all!”

Ghost Girl - Episode 40

THE YOUNG WARRIORS CLUB

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Illustration by Carlos Uribe

Sonny and Abby were silent for a moment, drinking tea and eating apple slices. “So…” Sonny resumed, “you want me to be more frank in telling you what I think. Right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I think you conceal much more than I do. You’ve got a whole picture of what you’re doing that you hide from me, and in that picture are the answers to most of your questions. But you act like I should know more about that than you do.”
Abby stared. “Okay, I’ll bite. Tell me about it.”
“It’s your internal picture… actually it’s more than that. It has a larger reality around and beyond you.”
“What are you talking about?” Abby’s voice rose in frustration.
“Now don’t get all riled up. Let me just ask you… do you remember my father?”
“Of course. He was a part of Sunday School when I was little, maybe seven or eight.”
“And what did he do? I mean, in Sunday School, what was his role with you kids?”
“He ran the Young Warriors Club.”
“And what was that?”
Abby thought for a minute, eating apple slices to keep occupied. Something was very difficult about this line of questioning, but she struggled on. “Mostly he told stories,” she said. “About the Young Warriors Club.”
“But the stories weren’t directly about you and the other kids, were they?”
“No, of course not. They were about the characters, the young warriors, saving the world from evil. Bad people were eating the world, gobbling up forests, rivers, even other people and towns and cities. It was scary. I’ve sometimes thought they’d never allow stories like that nowadays.”
“So who were these characters? Where did they come from?”
“They came from all over. Some from over the ocean, some from the mountains, some from the other side of the world, some even started as bad people but turned out to be good. And they were named after places, like River Girl and Mountain Boy and Land-of-Snow and Over-the-Sea. River Girl, was from here, from Rivergate.
“And what did they do?”
“They banded together to save the world and the animals and the people… I can’t quite remember how they got started, but the Good Fairy helped them. She had some sort of magic. They did things in secret, and won over the hearts of people who were lost, following a bad road. The young warriors built a new road… or… at least they tried to… but – this is the hard part – your father died and the story was never finished.”
Abby tried to blink away the water that was filling her eyes. She was afraid to say more, but became so full of emotion that she couldn’t stop. “I waited every week in suspense, and thought about that story all the time! I just wanted to know how they would do it – or if they could – but suddenly… he died. No one could take his place. There never was anyone like your father. We never found out what happened next.”
“Yes, very true, and I should know… Okay, now bear with me, I know you’re upset. But you left out an important character… the Ghost Girl. Who was she? Where did she come from?”
“She was the daughter of the Good Fairy. She was from all over.” Abby’s eyes teared up again.
“Okay, now tell me, is this story over now? Or is it still going on?”
Abby was sobbing. “That’s not fair!” she cried. “You tricked me! I’ve never told anyone about this!”
“Oh, plenty of people know about it. Many remember. And you should answer my question. Is the story over now?”
“No! No, damn it! It’s just begun. You knew that already, but you had to drag it out of me, lay bare my secrets. Why?”
Sonny was quiet for a minute. Abby’s breathing gradually calmed down.
“I admit,” he said softly, “that I’m a manipulator at times, but you’re able to stand up for yourself. Why do you let me get away with it? I think it’s because I’m responding to your questions.”
“But it’s only a children’s story. I’m not from all over. I’m from here. I’m not the daughter of the Good Fairy, that’s all a fantasy.”
“I hear you. But you’re the one who remembers this in such a vivid way, you’re the one everybody teased – more than teased, I think – about being the Ghost Girl. You’ve carried this experience your whole life, beyond Rivergate to Half Moon High School to becoming Wendy’s apprentice and on to the Church of Middletown. It’s your big picture. And you know perfectly well that it’s not just a children’s story. My father took a legend – or maybe it’s more like a vision of the future – from long ago. He changed it a little to suit the times, what you kids would understand. And you’re making something of this story, or it’s making something of you, or both. You’re the servant of this story, or maybe the steward, or custodian, is a better word.”
Sonny stopped suddenly, gave himself a little shake, and opened his eyes wide. “No isn’t that a coincidence.” He paused, thinking.

Ghost Girl - Episode 39

ABBY AND SONNY TALK IT OUT

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Illustration by Carlos Uribe
After the show at the Open Gate was over, Abby and Sonny walked through a hard rain back to the shanty. As Abby dried off Sonny put water on to boil. 
“Some mint tea? Lemon balm, peppermint, spearmint?”
“I’ll go for the peppermint,” Abby told him, taking a seat at the small kitchen table. “Quite a day!” she said. “You, my parents, Amy somebody -- a friend of Sara’s -- then your show… it’s a lot to take in.”
Sonny sliced an apple and slid the plate in front of Abby, and then gave her a long look.
“What’s that look about?” she asked, staring back at him.
“Amy somebody? That’s all you know?”
“Hey, nobody tells my anything. Should I know her?”
“Yes, you should. We’ve got more to talk about than I thought.”
“Well, who is she?”
“That’s Amy Zhi, daughter of the State Parks Commissioner. She’s our line of communication with her father. It’s a delicate matter. Very important to all of us, and very fragile. It takes some careful management.”
“Ah,” Abby replied. “Mmm… I see.”
“I know we’re both tired, and I’m not sure where to begin. You start us off.”
“Okay… I’ve been thinking…” Abby looked up at Sonny with a frown on her lips and frustration in her eyes. “The thing is… you’ll ask me a bunch of questions when you already know the answers. Let’s say I ask you why Amy comes to me with news about the Energy Project, and the United Nations, no less! And then schedules a meeting with me, Sara, and her to talk about what her professor should be allowed to reveal in his presentation to the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change… Or maybe I ask you why I should be the one to hide and protect the mapstick. You know the answers. You sent Amy to me. But you won’t just tell me, you’ll turn it all around as if I know the answers.”
Sonny put two mugs of steaming tea on the table and took a seat. The room was warm, but Abby shivered with wet feet and exhaustion.
Sonny smiled, the light dancing in his eyes. “I was going to say the same thing to you! Because you do know most of the answers already. Well, maybe that’s not quite true. We do need this talk, all joking aside. I promise to be as frank and straight with you as I can.”
“Okay! Here we go. Did you send Amy to me?”
“Yes.”
“Why me?”
“Think about my options. I can’t send her to someone who only knows Rivergate, and has no role in the outside world. But obviously I can’t recommend anyone who doesn’t know Rivergate either. And this crucial job demands being in regular communication with a core group of people, because this project will grow and change rapidly, and will have to be micromanaged. Can I do that? Who can do that?”
“I’ll bet you let Sara make a recording of your interview, and said she could let Freddy Baez print it in the Evansville Record, with some minor modifications.”
“I not only said she could, I asked her to get it done right away.”
“Okay, so I meet with Sara and Amy in a couple of days. They want me to discuss what can be said publicly about the Energy Project. But you already gave permission for all this publicity.”
“Good observation. But remember, she only has my permission to print my recorded words and her questions. You should notice one important thing. Did I mention fuel? She asked me about it, but did I answer? How did I treat the question about why the governor is pushing this so called ‘relocation’ plan? Think carefully about what I said, and didn’t say.”
Abby took a few swallows of warm tea. “Mmm… Maybe you’re right about that.”
“I know I’m right about that.”
“Okay, but you’re still acting like I’m in charge of something here, a leader of… what Tuck calls our enterprise. I’m not the leader.”
“Who is?”
“Well, you adults. You and Wendy and Chi Chi and their father and Tuck, people like that.”
“Are they familiar with both Rivergate and you young people, like Sara Williams? Are they going to reach out to hundreds, maybe thousands of young people? And who created that public relations masterpiece last weekend? Don’t tell me that occurred all by itself.”
Abby laughed. “Okay, you got me. But on my level Phoebe is more important than me. She’s running the Youth Council. Sara’s got the job at the newspaper. Amy has the connection to the climate change panel. The band will develop fans.”
“All these people are important. But who will guide them? Do they talk often with me? Or any of these adults you named? You’re young, but you’re learning fast.”

Ghost Girl - Episode 38

THE SHOW AT THE OPEN GATE

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Abby and Amy filled their plates and ate ravenously, without saying a word. They were glowing, and couldn’t wipe the smiles off their faces. Full to the brim, they sat back and looked around the room. A group of young men had set up a circle of drums, and began to play a few beats. Junior took the mike and announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, community and friends of Rivergate, welcome to our show! I’ve promised you a special presentation, and we’ll start with our own drum circle. Musicians, take it away…”
The drumming started as a low hum, and carried on for about ten minutes in almost hypnotic fashion. The music grew louder, and more varied, even jagged, rough and scary. Finally it settled into a single beat, and then the performers became silent one by one, until only two drummers played together, trading beats back and forth. Gradually all the drummers joined in for a climax, and then settled back into the hypnotic hum.
Suddenly electronic noise – some wild static – cut through the drumming and made an eerie music. Then a voice came over the mike as if a radio channel had just found a good connection: “With a breaking story from Rivergate – the town in the news – this is Stan Miller from WBCS in River City.”
The audience laughed. Abby realized that Cali was making the electronic noise, and Junior was imitating the voice of the famous newsman.
“Our whole great nation has seen photos of the recent storms and flooding throughout the Half Moon River Valley, and Governor Palmer has declared a state of emergency in Rivergate County and here in River City. Tonight we’ll focus on the island of Rivergate, where the only access road has been closed by damage to the Snake River Bridge, and the community is completely isolated. We have exclusive coverage from our reporter on the spot, Janet Rivera, coming to you live after a hazardous journey upriver by boat through another storm. Janet, are you there?”
Sara appeared behind the table and spoke into a second mike. “Yes Stan, I’m here in Rivergate at a large community meeting hall waiting for my interview with Sonny Walker, the County Executive and Mayor of Rivergate. We’ll have the latest news for our listening audience from the man himself… and here he is, Sonny Walker!”
The audience clapped and whistled. Sara began by saying, “Mayor Walker, we want to thank you for taking this time out from what must have been a very busy day.”
Sonny had taken Junior’s mike and answered, “It’s my pleasure, Janet. We need this opportunity to describe our situation to the wide world.”
“Okay, let’s get started! Please tell us how you’re handling this emergency.”
“Emergency? Actually, we don’t have any emergency that I know of…” 
Laughter broke out across the enormous room. Sara waited, and then said, “I mean the closing of the Snake River Bridge, the only road off this island. Surely that must be causing problems.”
“Well… that may be an emergency for the state government and the department of transportation. The bridge is part of the on-ramp to Highway 71, and is therefore part of the state highway system. How they are going to handle their responsibility is not clear at this point.”
“But how are you receiving food and other supplies, how are people getting to work and school? What about medical emergencies? Homes have been flooded. How are you accommodating the homeless?”
“I should start out by saying that this storm and flooding have caused no deaths or injuries in Rivergate County.” Clapping spread among the crowd. “No currently occupied homes were flooded. And should a medical emergency occur, we can take the patient to Middletown Hospital downstream by boat faster than an ambulance can get here and back. We have a ferry type of system running from early morning to late evening, taking residents ashore to the highway access road, where they can meet the Main street bus.”
“But what about food, fuel, and other essential supplies?”
“You may not be aware that we are a farming community, more self-sufficient than most places you’ll ever see. We have our own elementary school here on the island, and older students can use the ferry and catch the bus to Half Moon.”
“Amazing! There do seem to be serious misunderstandings in the news. I’m sure you’re aware that Governor Palmer announced on Monday that the state is prepared to evacuate Rivergate and find appropriate housing for all its residents. What is your response to his offer?”
“We can see nothing to justify the suffering this would cause for our citizens, people who own their own land. We are not in danger, and are no threat to anyone. There is no reason to burden the tax-paying public with a huge expense. This plan would not end an emergency, it would create an emergency for no reason.”
Loud cheers erupted across the room, and people stood up to clap. After a few minutes, Sara asked, “Why then are the governor and state officials considering this plan?”
“Well… I can only assume that they are not familiar with the real situation… perhaps relying on second hand news.”
Abby smiled to herself, thinking, ‘Oh how clever! Sonny is clever as a fox!’

Ghost Girl - Episode 37

ABBY AND AMY Z

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Illustration by Lawrence Tate
As Abby and her mother were speaking, people kept arriving. Abby’s mother began looking around the crowd, and stared at the long line forming at the cafeteria. “They need me,” she said. “Margie’s been at it all day, and she’s too slow for this crowd.”
“Go, Mom!” said Abby. “I’m proud of you and Dad. It makes me happy to be here.” Her mother hugged her for a moment and dashed off.
‘Okay,’ thought Abby. ‘That went well. Now what?’ She felt someone approaching her, and turned to see Sara Williams. “Can we join you?” she asked. 
“Yes, of course.”
“Abby, this is Amy. We’re at Evansville College together, and… we do so many things together! Amy needs to speak to you.” Abby stood up and shook hands with a young East Asian woman with glowing dark eyes and straight black hair that glistened in the light. 
“I’ve only got a moment,” said Sara. “We have to practice our show for tonight. They’ve given me a part.”
“How exciting,” returned Abby. “What will you do?”
“You’ll see! Right now they’re calling me.” Sara hurried off.
Abby and Amy looked at each other, and pulled their chairs close together. “Okay, Amy, you have my full attention. We may only have a few minutes.” Abby was feeling nervous, and very curious. 
“You may know,” began Amy in a low voice, “that I work a couple of days a week with the Parks Energy Project in Half Moon.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Abby. “Jeremy and I were just talking about it two days ago… Are you a supervisor there?”
“I’m only a student intern like Sara is at the Evansville Record. Sara’s a journalism major and I’m in Energy Science.”
“Energy Science…” 
Amy leaned forward with a warm smile. “Actually my major is called ‘Energy Science in the Age of Climate Change’. It’s a new department, just four years old. You might have heard of our department head, Roberto Richardson. He’s well-known in this field.”
“No,” Abby replied, “I’m afraid I’m… pretty ignorant of the science involved. I’ve never been to college.”
“That’s okay, I understand. We’re not looking for another college type person, we’re looking for someone like you.”
“Really? Why? No one knows anything about me.”
Amy smiled to herself as if she was trying not to laugh. She looked into Abby’s eyes and said, “Let me say a few things quick.” She moved closer and kept her voice down. “I know Sara, I know Junior Walker and his father, I know Chi Chi, I know Jeremy, I know Isaiah, I know Freddy Baez of the Evansville Record, just to name a few. And I follow the news, so of course I know a lot about you. Just listen to our problem: I’m writing my thesis on the Energy Project, and my advisor is Roberto Richardson. He’s fascinated by what we’re doing, and wants to visit and know more. He’s an influential guy. For example, he’s a member of the United Nations climate change group, what they call the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. They have representatives from all over the world, and try to keep up with issues and solutions from every country, urban and rural, rich and poor. Roberto is in the middle of writing a paper with recommendations based on our Energy Project, using it as a model. He might make a presentation to the Panel.”
Abby felt the excitement tingle in her fingers. “That is amazing… I hardly know what to say… But why speak to me?”
“This is where it gets complicated. The Energy Project is based on a very special situation, one that neither Sara nor I fully understand. I’ve had to tell Roberto, and Sara has told her boss, not to create publicity about this, at least not yet.”
Abby looked at Amy with respect, and nodded. “A wise decision, I can only thank you…”
“First and foremost,” said Amy with passion in her voice, “We want to be your ally, a part of your group. We want to join what you’re doing, and understand the opportunities and dangers. Right now we are very cautious, knowing how little we know.”
Abby nodded. Her eyes sparkled. This conversation was opening up a new world. “I think this is wonderful. But I’m still not sure where I fit in. Why approach me?”
Amy pulled her chair right up to Abby and spoke in her ear. “Frankly, the people who understand this situation have asked me to speak to you.”
Abby stared in surprise. “Is this Friday evening good for you?" she asked. "Come early for our Youth Council Meeting. But you should know that I’m followed wherever I go. Oh, not here to Rivergate. They weren’t expecting me to leave by boat. But our church is watched day and night. Just so you’re aware of my situation.”
“Count me in!” exclaimed Amy.

Ghost Girl - Episode 36

AT THE OPEN GATE

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Illustration by Carlos Uribe

“Julia! Over here,” yelled Dennis. Abby saw her mother emerge from the gloom.
“Oh! I’ve been so worried,” she cried, and ran into Abby’s arms. “What are you doing out here in the rain?” Julia wore a waterproof pancho and hat.
“Just a little drizzle,” said Dennis. They began walking back toward the shanty.
“I couldn’t find you!” Julia exclaimed, full of anxiety and longing.
“Everything’s okay,” Dennis reassured her. “I feel better than I’ve felt in months.”
“Mom, I’m so sorry I keep scaring you! But Dad’s right, we’re all together, back home.”
“I know,” Julia replied, calming down. “Ever since I saw you on TV News I knew things were going to work out. I could see you care…”
“I do, more than I can say.”
They stood in front of the shanty, all in shadow. No light shone from the windows. “Where’s Sonny?” Abby asked.
“I came up here with Junior,” returned Julia. “He needed Sonny at the Open Gate.”
“Chris left early too,” Dennis muttered. “Dinner doesn’t begin for at least an hour. What’s the rush?”
“People are nervous,” Julia replied. “It’s this business with the governor declaring a state of emergency for Rivergate County, and wanting to relocate all of us. Junior has a plan for this evening.”
They came out on the road and turned left. Abby heard her father breathing hard, and slowed down to walk with him. “I think I’ll stop at home for a while,” he said. “I’ll bring some rain gear.” He turned off on a small lane.
“Thanks Dad!” Abby yelled after him, feeling like he deserved far more gratitude than she was able to give. She caught up to her mother, who was really pushing the pace. They took a left up a wide road to a large wooden building with many windows beaming with light. The Open Gate was a six-sided building, all one story but with a very high ceiling. On the inside it was mostly one huge room, a hall full of circular tables and over a hundred chairs. About thirty people were milling around on one side, sitting at tables, talking, and setting up the evening’s activity.
“Let’s get a hot cider,” said Julia. Abby felt overwhelmed by the atmosphere and her memories, and couldn’t make conversation or remember a name. She followed Julia to an empty table, where they began sipping the delicious hot cider.
“So what happened to Dad?” Abby felt her heart beating too fast, but couldn’t take the time to relax. She knew she had to hurry. Her mother moved breathlessly from one thing to another. “He told you then?” asked Julia. “About the heart attack?”
“He just mentioned it, and said he’s much better.”
“It’s true he’s much better, but still not so good.”
“Tell me.”
“Oh, about two months ago I returned from work and he was back early, complaining that he’d strained his left arm working the wood chipper. I thought it would get better soon, but it only got worse. He kept saying he felt no pain, just this weird feeling. When he threw up I called an ambulance. They took an EKG and rushed him into the operating room and unclogged an artery and put a stent in. He was immediately much better, but couldn’t eat properly for days. The doctors warned me about the medications he has to take, the restrictions on his activity, no heavy work, no stress, blood pressure problems. They said part of his heart had been shut down for hours, and it would be a very difficult adjustment. It has been that. Very difficult.”
In the bright light of the Open Gate Abby saw that her mother had aged. Her reddish brown hair was turning gray, her neck had kind of sagged, her pale skin had lost hat pink blush on the cheeks, her eyes looked stressed out.
“Did he give you that thing, the mapstick?” asked Julia suddenly.
“Yes, we were speaking about it when you arrived.”
“Thank God! He’s been obsessing about it. Since he can’t work, he keeps getting it out and studying it, talking about what it might mean, blaming himself for God know what… He just goes on and on about it.”
Abby put her hand on her mother’s hand and held it. “It’s okay now Mom, I understand it. Let me deal with that.”
Her mother had tears on her cheeks and wiped them away.