The Ghost's Grave (17 page)

“You really should watch the news,” Muriel said. “If you did, you'd know what happened at your place last night. Josh is a hero!” She began a detailed account of Mr. Turlep's actions and mine.

Aunt Ethel kept shaking her head in disbelief. “I
leave you alone for one night,” she said, “and all this happens!”

“The police are sure it's the money for the animal shelter,” Mrs. Morris said. “They recovered all of it, one hundred thirty thousand dollars.”

Aunt Ethel clapped her hands. “As soon as I can, Josh, I'll bake you a Thank You from the Animals cake.”

“Chocolate, please,” I said.

It took another two hours to get a prescription from the hospital pharmacy and written instructions for Aunt Ethel's care. Aunt Ethel fidgeted and complained the whole time.

Finally she told the nurse, “If you don't release me in the next ten minutes, I'm leaving anyway.”

A
unt Ethel protested about getting pushed to the car in a wheelchair, consenting only when Mrs. Morris pointed out that the wheelchair would be faster than walking. I think the nursing staff was glad to see us go.

We stopped on the way home from the hospital to buy cat food and to pick up the mail. I had a letter from Mom and Steven, which I read in the car.

When we got home, Mrs. Morris helped Aunt Ethel get settled comfortably in her recliner with the footrest up. “I'll stay and chat a while,” she said. “In fact, it might be a good idea for me to stay in Florence's room for a few days if you don't mind.”

“Why should I mind?” Aunt Ethel asked. “Josh is a good dishwasher, but we'll need a cook.”

“It's so quiet here at night,” Mrs. Morris said. “I think I'm ready to give up my apartment and find a house in the country where I'd have more garden space. Would you like some tea, Ethel?”

“I'd love some.”

While Aunt Ethel and Mrs. Morris drank their tea, I went to the tree house to check on Mrs. Stray and her kittens.

I also hoped to see Willie, so I could thank him for helping me. I wondered what had happened when Florence saw him. Had the peacock screamed last night because it recognized Willie or because it was hungry?

I sat on the ground near the cat food and waited.

I thought about my letter from Mom and Steven. I hadn't mailed any of my letters to them; they would be plenty worried if they didn't hear from me soon.

Mrs. Stray crept out of the bushes toward the food. “You'd better bring your babies out here and let me tame them,” I told her. “You don't want them growing up wild in the woods.”

To my surprise, Mrs. Stray let me touch her while she ate. As soon as I started to stroke her fur, a deep, rumbling purr came from her throat. I slid my hand down her back, over and over.

When she finished eating, she walked back and forth against my knee, still purring. She must have been someone's pet at one time. Had she been dumped here because her person didn't want kittens? I couldn't imagine anyone being so uncaring, yet Aunt Ethel said it happens frequently here in the country.

I saw the kittens watching from a distance. I hoped if they saw me petting their mother, they might come close, too, but they didn't.

“I have all summer,” I told them. “You'll get used to me, especially when you aren't nursing anymore and I'm your only food source.”

I had told Mrs. Morris about the cats. “If you can't pick them up and pet them within a day or two,
we'll rent a humane trap,” she said. “You can take them to my place and keep them in the spare bedroom. You and Bruce can play with them there. Kittens need to be socialized as early as possible.”

Mrs. Stray drank some water, then returned to her brood.

I climbed up the ladder to the tree house. As I opened the door, I called, “Willie? Are you here?”

“I'm here. I came to say good-bye.”

His voice came from outside.

I rushed to a window and opened it. I could barely make him out against the trees. Always before, he had seemed solid; now he was as transparent as a wisp of smoke.

“Good-bye?” I said. “Where are you going?”

“I'm moving on.”

“No kidding! After all these years? What happened?”

“I have love in my heart.” I had to lean toward him to hear the faint words. “For you. My friend.”

I swallowed hard. I looked at the bearded miner with his one pant leg pinned above his knee, and I knew I loved him, too.

As I watched, the image of Willie faded away.

“Thank you for helping me last night,” I called, but there was no answer. He was gone.

I knew I would never see Willie again. He was no longer a ghost; he was an angel.

I was glad for Willie but sorry for me. I would miss him.

I turned away from the window, then saw Willie's hat on the tree-house floor beside my box of books. He had taken it off before he went on and left it for me.

When I put the miner's hat on my head, I smelled coal dust. I closed my eyes, honored that my friend had left me his most prized possession. I knew I would cherish this hat, and the memory of Willie, forever.

I went back to the house to fix lunch, but Mrs. Morris had already made sandwiches. I held Aunt Ethel's arm while she walked to the table, then helped her get comfortable in her chair, with her foot propped up.

With Willie gone, I would never find out why Florence had screamed when Mr. Turlep had the gun pointed at me. Had he recognized Willie? I decided it didn't matter. Aunt Ethel was happy believing the peacock was Florence, and the peacock was happy living here; I'd leave it at that.

Mrs. Morris left after lunch to deliver her daughter's cake and birthday gift and to pack her clothes so
she could stay with us a while. The telephone repairman came that afternoon, and so did two women from Aunt Ethel's church. The women brought a bouquet of snapdragons and a big bowl of potato salad. The repairman had barely left when the phone rang.

“It's Muriel,” the caller said when I answered. “Bruce says his team still needs an outfielder. Would you be willing to join the team?”

Does the sun rise in the east?

“Where do they play?” I asked. “Aunt Ethel can't drive with a cast on her foot, but I could ride my bike to the games if it isn't too far.”

“Oh, don't worry about getting there. Even after I move back home, I'll drive you. They play in Diamond Hill, but I always take Bruce, and you aren't far out of the way.”

“That would be great,” I said, even though I knew it really was out of her way. “Thanks a lot!”

“The next game is Tuesday night at seven. You'll have to go early to get a uniform.”

“What about Aunt Ethel? She shouldn't stay by herself while we're both at a ball game.”

“Leave that to me.”

While Aunt Ethel chatted with the church ladies, I went to my room, tore up the three letters I had written, and started over.

I decided to wait until I was home to tell about Mr. Turlep and the box of money. Mom would freak out over a thief threatening to kill me; it would be better to tell her when I was standing beside her, safe and sound. I didn't plan to tell her, or anyone, about
Willie. I was glad I'd never mailed the letter about him. The ghost and his grave would remain my secret.

Aunt Ethel's friends agreed to mail my letter on their way home. I wanted it to go out right away.

When Mrs. Morris returned, she brought a casserole and a schedule of people who had agreed to stay with Aunt Ethel while I went to my baseball games. “Now that I'm back,” she told me, “you can go feed those cats.”

“Cats?” Aunt Ethel said. “Plural?”

“Mrs. Stray has three kittens,” I said.

“Fleas and mosquitoes! What are you going to do with four cats?”

“Bruce and I will help tame them and find homes for them,” Mrs. Morris said. “I'll need a project, since I expect to stay here as long as you have that cast.”

“You don't have to babysit me,” Aunt Ethel said.

“I'm not,” Mrs. Morris replied. “I'm here to listen to the birds. All except Florence.”

I returned to the cemetery. I removed Willie's small marker, carried it uphill to the riverbank, and put it where it belonged. I wore my miner's hat the whole time.

After I put the marker securely in its place, I stepped back and looked at it.

Of course, the marker still said only
W.M.M.
, but
in my heart it said.
WILBER MICHAEL MARTIN, LOVING HUSBAND, FATHER, AND FRIEND
.

Especially
friend
.

* * *

Three days later, Bruce and I caught all the cats. By then I was able to pick up Mrs. Stray so it was easy to put her in one of the three cat carriers that Mrs. Morris had borrowed. After that, all it took was patience.

Bruce and I sat on the ground under the tree house, still and quiet. Beside each of us was a cat carrier with an end flap that opened down, like the ramp of a horse trailer. A small dish of tuna cat food was at the far back of each carrier.

I'd put out that kind of food for two days and had seen the kittens eat it, so I knew they would be attracted by the smell. It took almost two hours before the orange kitten timidly approached. It kept looking around as if wondering where its mother was, and it was clearly nervous about Bruce and me, but the tuna smell was more than it could resist. It walked into the carrier beside Bruce and began to eat. He quickly closed the flap, then took the carrier into the tree house, where Mrs. Stray waited in her carrier. He put the kitten in with its mother.

While he was doing that, the black-and-white kitten
emerged from the woods. This one was bolder, maybe because there was only one person to watch instead of two. I held my breath, hoping Bruce wouldn't come down the ladder and scare the kitten off. The kitten kept watching me, but it marched into the carrier without hesitation.

I heard the third kitten, the one who looked like Mrs. Stray, mewing in the underbrush so I quickly climbed the ladder and put my carrier on the floor beside the one that now contained Mrs. Stray and the orange kitten.

Bruce took his empty carrier down and waited for the third kitten. This one acted the most apprehensive, so I stayed in the tree house, watching from the window. For a while, I was afraid that third kitten was never going to overcome its fear, but it finally crept forward, almost sliding on its stomach, and entered the carrier.

Bruce closed the flap. We had all of them!

Mrs. Morris had talked Aunt Ethel into letting us use her extra bedroom as the cat room. It was a perfect space. There wasn't a bed in it, and we had already pushed all the storage boxes against the wall to eliminate places for the kittens to hide. The room was ready, with fresh water, food, catnip toys, a pile of old towels for the cats to sleep on, and a litter box.

We turned the four cats loose in their new living quarters and watched them explore. From then on, I spent several hours each day playing with the kittens. Bruce came almost every day, too.

Before long the kittens let us pick them up, and soon they began purring when we held them. We named the orange one Max, the black-and-white one Purrball, and the tabby-striped one Spooky.