The Ghost Runner (11 page)

T
yler and I sit at an outdoor café along the square, nursing iced coffees. We've been here for half an hour, running through a few of our scenes together. His Giants baseball cap—he's from San Francisco—covers his dark hair and shades his eyes, which, though they're very dark, catch the light and show little specks of gold, like my new good-luck charm. He keeps his head down, as if he's already a movie star and is trying to stay incognito. I can picture him on some movie poster someday—he'd make a great action hero; he's got the looks for it. But he's also smart, which I think gets lost on some people because he's so good-looking. We should all have such problems.

As Tyler and I read our lines, we have to raise our voices to hear each other over an increasingly noisy crowd that's gathering in front of the City Hall building on the other side of the square.

“Pray you, be gone,” Tyler says to me.

“What?” I've been watching the crowd, and he's caught me off guard. “Oh. Sorry.” I respond as Isabella:

I would to heaven I had your potency,

And you were Isabel! should it then be thus?

No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge,

And what a prisoner.

We volley these four-hundred-year-old words back and forth, as if we're playing a playful, flirty game of tennis. And as I read my lines I feel electricity between us—or maybe it's not between us, exactly, but all coming from me. I wonder if he feels it, too, or maybe I'm just getting too caught up in these scenes. But there's definitely something.

While I'm not sure whether I'm falling for Tyler, what I do know is that I'm falling in love with Shakespeare. This is poetry, the way the words flow and rhyme and turn upon themselves. I can't help but think of Roman—it was his voice that first introduced me to Shakespeare, when I saw him in
Hamlet
. And now, I'm sitting here saying them to another actor who is good enough to take Roman's place at the Lithia Theater one day. I hope I don't screw up as Isabella and make Tyler look bad in the play. Maybe this is why he's been so eager to rehearse with me—not because he likes me but because he needs to make sure I don't ruin his performance by flubbing my lines.

The crowd across the square is getting louder and rowdier, and we can no longer hear each other speak over the noise.

“Looks like we've been upstaged,” I say.

“What's that all about, anyway?” Tyler asks.

I see a sign:
Protect the Land
! Then another:
Stop Jacobs Now!
Then another:
Horton's Land for the People
!

Remembering the meeting that Alex invited me to back when we were still together, I realize that this is one of Alex's protests—and that I had promised him that I would be there. Now, even though we're no longer a couple, I still feel as though I should go. No matter what happened between us, that land still has to be protected. We all have to do our part.

“There's a council meeting tonight,” I explain to Tyler. “They're protesting the sale of the Horton land to a developer.”

Tyler gives me a blank look.

“Have you been up to the Lost Mine Trail?” I ask.

“Sure,” he says.

“You know that new housing project, right before you get to the trail?”

“You can't miss it.”

“The Horton land is right above that project. Right now it's protected, but there are rumors a developer is going to get this property.”

“Just what the world needs,” Tyler says with a sigh. “More McMansions.”

I'm glad Tyler is anti-development, too. I wonder if it's too much to hope that he's also a vegan. But I probably shouldn't get ahead of myself.

I turn back to look at the crowd, and that's when I see Alex, standing on a milk crate, megaphone in his hand. I wonder whether it's a better idea for me to stay where I am—I'm not sure anymore whether my presence would be welcome.

Just then, the crowd goes silent, and everyone begins filing into City Hall. The meeting must be about to begin.

“Finally,” Tyler says, “we can hear ourselves think again. Shall we continue, Isabella?”

But I'm still staring at City Hall. I'm thinking that even if Alex doesn't want to see me, he needs as much support as he can get. And I don't want to see our hills bulldozed for more homes any more than he does. If I remain silent, I might as well be taking the side of the developers.
Silence is the enemy of change
, as Alex used to say.

I turn to Tyler. “Actually,” I say, “would you mind if I went to that city council meeting?”

He grins. “You running for mayor?”

“I just want to be there. To speak out against McMansions.”

“In that case, I'll join you.” He flashes those dimples of his again, and he lightly touches my back as we stand and head over there. It gives me a very pleasant chill in the hot afternoon air.

We cross the town square to City Hall and go up a flight of stairs. At the top, people mill about outside the doors to the main chamber. I hesitate, then realize these people appear more interested in chatting with one another than getting into the room, so I squeeze past and reach back for Tyler's hand, pulling him along. We get inside and lean up against the back wall. The room is jammed with people, reporters, and a handful of cops standing along the aisles to keep the peace.

The council members sit on an elevated stage at a curved table. Someone at the podium is talking about procedural rules, and it's almost as if the people up on that stage don't even know there's an audience. I can't help but see the parallels between these council members and actors, between this meeting and a play. But I know that the audience in this room is not about to suspend its disbelief for whatever happens here.

I see Alex at the front of the room, focused on the council members. To the far right is an older woman with reading glasses hanging from a chain around her neck, seated at a computer, with a microphone in front of her. She appears to be the one keeping the meeting moving.

She leans forward and speaks into the microphone. “We'll now open the meeting to new business. The first issue concerns the Horton property.”

There's a low rumble amid the audience, and Alex speaks up. “The citizens of Lithia would like to be heard before any vote takes place.”

“Quiet, please,” the woman says, “or you will be removed from the chamber. There will be no vote until we've heard from the attorney representing the landowner. Is Mr. Stover present?”

I perk up at the name—it sounds familiar, but I can't think of where I'd heard it.

A man in a suit stands and approaches a podium that faces the council. “Thank you, members of the council. I represent the trust that owns the Horton property.”

One of the council members, an older guy on the left, says, “What's the status of the land?”

“As you all know, Mrs. Evelyn Horton had no direct descendants when she passed away two years ago. According to her will, the property was due to be given to the descendant of a very close friend of Mrs. Horton's. Unfortunately, the will was contested by Mr. Jacobs.”

Immediately, the room erupts in a flourish of hisses. I see Alex's head swivel around, and when I glance over at him, our eyes meet and lock. I'm glad he knows that, despite everything, I'm here—though I hope he doesn't see Tyler standing so close to me.

“Fortunately,” Mr. Stover continues, “Mr. Jacobs dropped his suit recently, allowing us to move forward on the transfer.”

“Who is this person who was deeded the property?” asks another councillor.

“I was hoping to keep this confidential until I've had time to meet with this individual in private.”

“Mr. Stover, I see here that you've opened probate and filed this will with the court, and therefore Mrs. Horton's will is on the public record. We've wasted enough time already on this issue, and the citizens of Lithia are ready for closure. So please tell us the name of this person.”

“Very well. Her name is Katherine Healy.”

With a rush of adrenaline through my body at the sound of my name, I remember who Mr. Stover is—Michael Stover, the lawyer whose card I stowed away somewhere in my cottage. I'd never contacted him; in fact, I'd forgotten all about it.

I look from Mr. Stover to the council members and back to Alex. His eyes are still locked on mine, and for the first time where this land issue is concerned, I see hope in them where anger used to be.

Can it be true—that I own this land? Does this mean that I have the power to save it?

My head is filled with noise, and I can't tell if it's the murmuring of the crowd or the blood rushing through my ears. I feel my heart pounding, and I reach into my pocket to clasp my good-luck charm, my fake gold nugget. I can feel a dent in its side, from when the pawn shop guy had thrown it at me. It really has brought me luck.

And, even more confusing, I hear Tyler's voice in my ear, asking me questions, and all the while Alex has not taken his eyes off my face.

T
he law office of Michael Stover looks out over the town square. It's just as I would have imagined a law office—wood paneling, a wall lined with old books, and, in the conference room, green-shaded lamps.

After the city council meeting, I dug out his card from one of the drawers in my little galley kitchen, where I'd tossed it the day David gave it to me. I'd had no intention of contacting him; I figured back then that any lawyer looking for me could only be trying to give me bad news.

Instead, it's quite the opposite.

Now, I'm sitting across the desk from him as he tells me that I now own more than 500 acres of sought-after land. That I now have the power to prevent Ed Jacobs from building any more homes.

My father is sitting next to me; I'd asked him along because I felt a little intimidated by going alone to meet a strange lawyer, and I wanted someone here with me. First I asked David, but he had to open the store, and Kendra couldn't cover for him because she had to take her mother to an appointment. David seemed disappointed that he couldn't help, and he was the one who suggested my father.
It seems like more of a family thing anyway
, he said.

Then I thought about asking Alex. But though he and I had shared plenty of long gazes at the council meeting, we hadn't actually spoken.

Right now Michael Stover is speaking in a language I don't understand, using words like
adjudicate
and
ex parte
, and I'm glad Dad is here; I hope he's making better sense of it all than I am. But I get the gist of it, which is that Evelyn Horton took a liking to my mom years ago. They were neighbors, and Evelyn had no children. My mom used to spend a lot of time with her—she did little things like pick up her mail and groceries whenever she went to town, and she looked after Evelyn's dogs when Evelyn was away. Over the years, my mom became like a surrogate daughter to Evelyn, especially as Evelyn got older and older—and that's how she ended up in the will.

And Evelyn's will stated that, in the event that my mom was deceased, the land would then pass on to my mom's oldest child. Which happens to be me.

Apparently Ed Jacobs thought the will should be voided because Evelyn had no “real” heirs and besides, they couldn't find me. But it was clear he just wanted the land for himself. Because his reasons were so transparent, his argument didn't hold up, and he abandoned his lawsuit. Then the trust stepped up its efforts to find me.

Of course, I haven't been all that easy to find. It was only due to the strange and terrible turns that my life had taken that I'd ended up on the run, coming to Lithia, and even then it had been with a new name. It wasn't until that investigator my dad hired found me last fall that I even knew I could be found. And at that point, of course, I'd gone back to my real name.

“Where's the deed?” my father asks.

Mr. Stover hands over a piece of paper with a huge stamp on the upper right corner, and in the middle is my name. I can see that my dad's hands are shaking as he holds the paper. “We had the deed amended this morning to reflect your daughter's ownership.”

“Can I look?” I ask.

Dad glances up at me as if from a trance and hands it to me. “Take good care of that,” he says.

“I will.”

“So, what do we owe you?” my dad asks.

“My fees are covered by the trust.” Mr. Stover looks at me. “Now, Kat, I should warn you that you are now one of the largest landholders in this region. That comes with a great deal of responsibility.”

“I understand,” I say, though I'm not entirely sure I do.

“What he means to say, Scooter,” my dad says, “is that every Tom, Dick, and Harry in this town and beyond are going to be out for a piece of it. Don't worry, Mr. Stover, I'll protect her.”

“And the land,” I add.

“Right.”

~

Dad is surprisingly silent as we walk along Lithia Creek through Manzanita Park. I want to know what's going on inside his head because I need something to distract myself from everything going on in
my
head. Are people going to look at me differently when the whole city knows I own this land? Do I need to live on it? What if someone starts chopping down a tree somewhere in the woods? How will I know? Too many questions.

“This is quite a burden, Scooter,” Dad says, as if he's been reading my mind.

“Dad, I told you to stop calling me that. I'm not a kid anymore.” I'm stressed, and I feel a little bad for taking it out on him, but I can't help it.

“That's for sure,” he says with a laugh. “You're no longer a kid. You're a landowner.”

“I don't know what to do with it. All I know is that I want to protect it. But I'm not sure how.”

“You could give it to a land trust,” Dad says. “I know a guy in town who does just that. You know, conservation. You would sign the land over, and they would act as stewards from then on.”

“Really?” I look at him. “How do you know him?”

He laughs again. “In construction, you get to know everybody. I could help, if you want. But it's your call, Scoot—” He stops himself. “It's your call, Katie. I just don't want you to be worrying yourself over this land. You've got school and the play and whatnot.”

“Thanks. I guess I'll just see how things go for now.”

I've been tracing my footsteps along the wood chips of the park's trail, and when I look up, I stop in my tracks. Up ahead on the path is Alex, standing as still as a deer, as if he's just seen us. My dad notices. “You know, I think I'll head back to town. I've got some work to do.”

I watch my dad until he's out of sight; then I turn to Alex, who approaches me cautiously. I can't seem to make my feet move. There is a tenderness in his face, the way his green eyes focus on mine, that dissolves whatever anger I was holding onto. Or maybe it's because everything has changed now. We're no longer a couple. Just two people with a past together.

“Hi, Kat,” he says. “I was hoping I'd run into you.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For, well, for inheriting the Horton property.”

“Oh, that. Glad I could arrange it.”

“Do you realize that you are the only reason Ed Jacobs isn't bulldozing down the forest right now? I can't believe that after all our protests and leafleting, all we needed was you to save the day.”

“Who knew?”

“I'm just glad we don't have to worry about Jacobs getting his hands on that land anymore.” His face is more relaxed than I've seen it in a long time, and I find myself looking for signs that he misses me. But I think he's just happy about the land and nothing else.

“If there's anything I can help with, just let me know,” he says.

“I will.”

“I guess I'll let you get back to your day.”

He starts to walk away from me.

“Wait,” I say. “There is something you can help me with.”

“Yes?”

I take a step toward him so I can lower my voice. In doing so, I realize I'm close enough to kiss him, and it feels like old times.
To stop myself from making a move I might regret, I pull my body
back a notch.

“I saw another ghost the other day. A not-so-friendly ghost.”

“A miner?”

“How do you know that?”

“I've seen them around.”

“Them? There's more than one?”

“I'm afraid so. Be careful, Kat. Something is happening up there.”

“What?”

“I don't know.”

“I get the feeling they're trying to tell me something.”

“Yeah, like: Stay out of our forest,” he says, cracking a smile.

“Don't make fun.”

“I'm not. I'm serious. They actually could be trying to tell you something. You know the story of the miners, how they were buried alive?”

I nod.

“That means they are a part of the land now. An extension of it. A long time ago, when they were alive, they didn't think twice about destroying this land. Now I believe they want to protect it. It's as if they had to die to realize what was at stake.”

“And the ghost runner? What about her?”

Alex looks up toward the hills as if he's searching for her right now. “Maybe you should ask her yourself,” he says.

“If I can ever catch her, I will.”

I turn to leave, then feel his hand on my wrist. “Kat,” he says. “I know you don't want to be around me, and I won't bother you again. But I do worry about you, and I'm happy to be your running partner if you ever need one on those trails.”

I pull my wrist back. A part of me wants to take him up on his offer—just as a moment ago another part of me wanted to kiss him—but when he touched me just now, I remembered with a chill that this is the same person who killed my mom, and as much as I miss him, I'm not quite ready to forgive.

“I'll be fine,” I say.

He nods, and I let him walk away this time.