Ghost No More (Ghost No More Series Book 1)

by CeeCee James

Mama slowed down to keep our heads from hitting the roof. “Not too much further,” she said, but that wasn’t true. It was a lot further, and the woods were dark. There were blackberry bushes closer to town, so I wondered where the heck we were going. Finally, she pulled off into a grassy spot, the car rolling to a stop. We hadn’t seen a car or house in a long time. There wasn’t another soul for miles around.

  She seemed nervous as she sat there for a few moments. I popped the seat forward and opened the passenger door ahead of her and jumped outside. The sun beat the scent of warm blackberries down on me.

  I hitched the strap of my tank top back on to my shoulder and glanced back at my mom. She had climbed out of the car and was standing with her hand on the door surveying the thick clot of blackberry bushes.

  “Alright, let’s go.” Her voice was tight. I looked over at her curious, is she mad at me? We walked over to the hedges, grasshoppers jumping out of our way ahead of us.

  Mama watched me for a few seconds. “It’s so hot, would you like to take off your shoes?”

  My toes wiggled at the thought, but I was surprised she asked. She’s not mad. Why would she let me take my shoes off if she was mad?

  “Sure!” I sat down in the grass and untied my shoes. “Where do I put them?”

  She pointed to a spot and then went back to the car for her colander, slamming the door when she had it. I snuck a blackberry off the bush while I waited, warm and full of juice. The bushes buzzed with bees crawling on the blackberries.

  Mama walked back and handed me a metal bowl.

  “These will make a good pie, huh Mama?”

  She didn’t answer me, and I wondered if she’d heard.

  “Won’t these make a good pie, Mama?”

  She made a sound, her hands busy picking berries. I tried to keep the same pace, and soon had a handful in my bowl. I didn’t want to get into trouble for being slow.

  Little patters came from the bushes as over-ripe berries fell to the ground. My bare toes squelched on berries, and my fingers were stained red with berry juice. Every now and then I popped one in my mouth.

  Mama and I been there about ten minutes when the birds in the nearby trees sent out loud caws. The sound swelled so I turned to look. A crash of dark birds rushed into the air with flapping wings. I watched them fly in a dark rush over the tops of the trees.

  The car horn blared, cutting through the sounds of the birds. Mama and I jerked and spun around to look.

  Mama squinted as she stared at the car. “Someone’s there.” I looked hard, but didn’t see anyone. The blaring horn grabbed at my insides and shook them. There was a ripple behind the windshield. Mama yelled, before I knew what it was. “Smoke!”

  Finger-like tendrils of gray smoke snaked out into the hot air shimmering by the open driver’s window. The delicate curls darkened as black clouds belched from the window. Smoke leaked from the crack at the bottom of the driver’s side door, mixing with the black.

  What’s happening? I saw flickers of movement inside the car. A flash of orange licked the edge of the steering wheel. The horn still blared.

  Mama jerked, her movement catching my eye. “The car’s going to blow up,” she mouthed, but I barely heard her over the horn. She took a few steps to the left, and spun in a circle, before throwing her blackberry bowl in the air. In that instant she ran. I stood with my bowl, frozen in place, watching her run away from me.

  After a second, I followed after her, my steps slow and hesitant. Why isn’t she running out to the road? Where is she going? I looked back at the burning car and saw my shoes sitting there. Reaching down, I tucked them under my arm and hurried after Mama.

  She tried to weave her way through a wall of the blackberry hedge, arguing with herself, “Not this way, no this way is blocked.” She wasn’t talking to me. I didn’t know who she was talking too.

  I followed her into the hedge, but she stopped. The thorns grabbed her, twisting around her arms. She yanked at them. Spinning, she gave a vicious tug at the bush and tore herself free. She ran back out of the hedge, but I was blocking the way, caught in the thorns too.

  I cried, “Mama, Mama,” trying to spin the way she had, the thorns buried in my clothing and skin. She didn’t look at me as she slammed into me on her way out. I was left tangled and trapped in the blackberries.

  “Mama!” The roar of the fire drowned out my scream. I twisted and turned, ripping my shirt in the branches. A branch raked itself across my face. Thorns clawed at my bare belly, and grabbed my hair, blonde strands left behind when I wrenched myself free.

  With my heart thudding in my ears, I wiped blood off of my face. Where was Mama? I went back in front of the car. “Mama!” The air was smoky all around me. I coughed. “Mama?” She was gone. She left me! Why did she leave me? Was I too slow? The gray smoke stung my eyes. I didn’t know where to go. Tears ran down my face.

  The smoke was clearer in the back of the blackberries. I stumbled over there, retching with wet coughs, and saw that there was a space that opened to a path. I pushed a few hanging branches out of the way as I followed it. The air was better here too, so I crouched down and took deep breaths. “Mama?” No answer.

  She was gone.

  I followed the path as it curved between the towering bushes, holding my shoes over my bowl to not lose any berries. The car crackled behind me, but the air was clearer the farther I went. On the other side of a bend, I was forced to stop. The path was blocked by a granite boulder. Mama was just reaching the top of it. I tried to climb it, only to slide off its steep side.

  I gave a mighty screech, “Mama! Help me, Mama!” She jumped down without looking back. I listened, only hearing my heart pound in my ears and the trees crackling from flames. Every muscle felt weak, and I wanted to curl up on the ground and cry.

  I couldn’t climb over the rock with my berry bowl and shoes in my hands, but I was afraid to let them go. I remembered the whipping I got the time I left my jacket at Grandma’s.

  The grey smoke creeping down the path forced me into action. I dropped everything to run my hands along the granite’s surface. My fingers found a slim edge, and I pulled myself up, my bare feet scrambling against the surface searching for toe holds. I reached for another groove as sweat trickled in my eyes and pulled myself higher. My foot slipped from its spot. I slid down the side, grating my palms and ripped a fingernail trying to stop. Stabbing about, my toe found an edge, stopping my fall. I froze there with my heart pounding in my throat. Taking a few deep breaths, I regained my balance and sent out my fingers to search for another ledge. Slowly, I stretched forward and pulled myself along. My elbows and knees were skinned, but I made it to the top.

  Standing on the boulder, I looked out at the forest that stretched in all directions as far as I could see. Behind me, the black smoke channeled up into the blue sky through the open blackberry glade like a chimney.

  I found Mama. She was still running, and she seemed miniature, she was so far away.

  “Mama! Mama!” I screamed as loud as I could through my hands. She hesitated for a moment, before running faster. Did she not hear me? I slid down the other side of the rock that sloped to the ground.

  I couldn’t see her from the ground, but ran in the direction I had seen her. Bushes blocked my way. After clearing a few I lost my sense of direction. I ran and ran, but didn’t see her again. With heaving breaths, I covered my face with my hands. My nose and eyes were wet from tears.

  I had lost her.

  I took a deep breath and tried to stop crying. I had to keep going.

  There was a flash of blue through the trees. Her shirt! I wanted to yell, but my lungs burned like fire, giving breaths that sounded like whistles. After another turn, I caught a glimpse of her again, but she dipped out of sight. I pushed slapping branches out of my way to reach her, no longer noticing my bare feet pounding over rocks or sticks. I wanted Mama.

  I had been chasing her for an hour when finally, around a corner, I saw her standing in a shallow c
reek. She was breathing hard, bent over with her hands on her knees. I ran up to her, and she turned slowly. She stared at me for a minute, her eyes wide with surprise. I burst into tears, so relieved to see her.

  She sighed and looked away. “Ok, we’re safe now, we’re in the water. Let’s get out of here.”

  We followed up the creek for a while, splashing in it because it was shallow. Mama pointed, “What’s that?” A dirt road showed through the trees.

  We pushed through the last of the bushes. The road felt smooth to my feet after the forest.

  “I ran from you because I was panicked,” Mama said.

  She took another deep breath, before adding, “We are going to walk a little bit, then run a little bit.” We did this for miles, long past side aches, and lungs that gasped for air.

  I saw a glow of light in the woods ahead of us.

  “What’s that Mama?” She didn’t answer. Our feet pounded against the dirt road. As we got closer I could see a window.

  At the driveway, Mama lost her composure. She staggered to a tree for support. “Help us! Help us please!” she cried. I felt chills at her sudden panic, and ran down the driveway to knock on the door. The door opened and a lady stood there flabbergasted. Mama’s words tumbled out and made no sense as we bled on her front stoop.

  “Where on earth did you come from?” The lady put her arm around Mama’s shoulders.

  She brought us into her living room where she swathed us in Band-Aids. “Oh my goodness,” she said when she bandaged my torn toe nails and bloody bare feet. The lady called the fire department while Mama lay on the couch. I heard them talk about the concern of moving a fire engine over that one-hundred-year-old bridge.

  By the time the fire department arrived, all that was left of the car was its metal engine and frame, and some blobs of melted glass. Even the tires had burned off. The Fire Department said they had not seen a natural fire burn so hot before. Mama was investigated for arson, and she was nervous. The police came by the next day and took a report. She didn’t let them talk to me. Everyone called it a miracle that a forest fire never happened.

  We didn’t talk about the fire. Finally, after weeks passed, I couldn’t wait any longer. “That sure was scary, huh Mama?”

  Mama looked intently at me for a minute. “It’s a good thing that you chased after me. I would have never gone back for you.” Her voice sounded cold, and I shivered. I knew that I would have burned up or been lost forever in those dark woods.

  Chapter 10

  ~The Blue House~

  It was Christmas day, and Adam, Mama’s new boyfriend, was supposed to be there early that morning to celebrate with us. I jumped up and down when he arrived, excited to see him, and Mama straightened her new shirt and smiled. “Merry Christmas,” she said, and gave him a hug. We had a Christmas tree with silver tinsel and blinking lights, and holiday music played in the background. I put a few pieces of tinsel on my head and twirled them around my finger, pretending I had long silvery curls, while Mama and Adam talked over mugs of coffee.

  After breakfast I ran to the tree for my gifts. The first one was a dollhouse that Mama had made me out of a cardboard box. The doll house had a cardboard bed made from a cigarette box, and came with an inch high, miniature plastic person. I named him Peter. Mama also made me a Raggedy Ann doll from a kit, with black, button eyes and a red triangle for a nose. I wrapped her spindly, striped arms across my waist and hugged her for dear life. These were the first presents I remember receiving from Mama.

  Besides those two presents, Mama and her boyfriend had made me a stick hobby horse out of an old broom. They gave each other secret winks and smiles when they talked about the fun they had while creating my toys. I rode around the wrapping paper with my horse and Raggedy Ann, and made galloping noises, until Mama told me to settle down.

  When it was time for lunch Adam disappeared outside. He returned after a few minutes with two full paper bags. He unpacked a big steak out of one of the bags, and placed it on the countertop while I gaped at it in wonder. He pulled out potatoes, a bottle of wine, and a pumpkin pie. They cooked dinner together, giggling when they bumped into one another in the small kitchen. He poked and tickled her in the ribs, and she swatted at him with her striped dish towel. I silently watched them from my bedroom doorway with my hand covering my smile. Mama’s happy now.

  Mama brought my new toys over to Adam’s house. She left them there so that I had something to play with when we visited on the weekend. I was sent upstairs to the spare room of Adam’s house, while they stayed in the living room watching a movie and eating popcorn. Their joy was contagious, driving me to want to be included in their fun. I made a make-believe circus for them. With my tongue sticking out the side of my mouth, I carefully drew a paper lion and elephant and cut them out with my pink scissors. I prepared paper pistachio ice cream cones with sprinkles as treats, and handed out little green tickets to redeem for a ride on my fancy new stick horse.

  I ran downstairs when I finished. “Hey you guys.”

  “Don’t say guys, I’m a girl,” Mama said.

  I started again. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, a Circus!” I handed out the tickets.

  They both laughed. Mama looked at Adam. “Want to play?”

  “Sure!” he said, and they got up and followed me up the white painted stairs.

  At the entrance of the spare room I demanded a ticket for entrance. They walked in, and I made my horse neigh and prance in circles around them.

  Mama shook her head and said, “Kids are so funny.” Adam grinned at her and hopped behind me for a horse ride. I smiled, and fireworks of joy shot through my body at their attention.

  Mama’s boyfriend gave me the sense that we were a real family. Mama was a different person when she was with him.

  A few months after we played the circus game, we moved into Mama’s boyfriend’s house in Pennsylvania. But what I thought was a happy family gradually changed over the next couple weeks, as though I were a balloon drifting away from their joined hands.

  This time lonely pangs hit me in a more poignant and personal way than it ever had before. I didn’t understand why Adam made her happy when I never could. I was used to a silent house, now there was laughter and constant talking, except I was never included. Am I messing up their happiness? It felt wrong for me to live with them.

  I promised myself, It’s okay, I’ll be a good girl, and Mama will want to be around me like she promised. My life was peaceful in other ways. Adam had never seen her slap my face, so I felt safe around him.

  My bedroom was on the second story of Adam’s little blue farm house while Mama slept down stairs in Adam’s bedroom. I walked into my room, and saw there were two beds to jump on. In the corner sat an old fashioned baby buggy with bouncy springs. Where did the little girl go who had left it behind? The room had warm sunshine spilling across the floor, and I curled up on my bed to read a book about garden fairies. After finishing the book, I ran outside to peep under the purple garden flower heads for any hidden fairies. It was a magical time, and I expected to see a tiny face peeping back at me.

  Mama and Adam left for the store. They were gone for hours, and the house felt creepy. I left my room and went to the living room to wait. There was a dime on the coffee table. I picked it up, and dragged it across the top. The wood dented in a fun way. I got excited, and drew a tic-tac-toe board, smiling as the wood gave way under the light pressure. I tried to win against myself, but I tied. Cat’s game! I tried again.

  Mama came home and walked into the living room, setting her bags down on the end of the couch. Her eyes focused on the table and me sitting there still holding the dime, and her face flushed dark red. A chill ran down my back. What have I done?

  “I trusted you to be alone for a short while, and you ruined Adam’s table.” She balled her hands at her sides. “He made that!” Adam had slipped in behind her and nodded his shaggy head in agreement.

  “I’m sorry, Mama,” I whispered
, twisting the front of my shirt with my hands. Adam didn’t think I was a good girl any more, even though I had tried. He saw the monster in me.

  From that moment on, Mama’s nice voice was gone, and the wooden spoon was back harder than ever. The house was cordoned off to their side, and my room. During the day Mama said, “Stay outside.”

  There was a boy named Johnny who lived down the road from our blue house who was seven like I was, and became my best friend. He had an amazing Star Wars play set, with all the little action figures, and a real Chewbacca stuffed doll. We always fought over who got to play Han Solo, and who had to play Luke.

  That day, I wouldn’t give Han Solo back.

  Johnny said, “Just forget it, my stuff is getting dirty.”

  He grabbed his toys off the grass and brought them back into the house, skipping out a minute later holding a popsicle. He knew I couldn’t have any. Mama had told me before I went down there, “I’m friends with his mom, I’ll find out.”

  We walked to the backyard. He bit chunks out of the orange popsicle and crunched on them extra loud. I was getting mad, but wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying anything. His dad was using a chop saw, piling fresh yellow boards by the back deck. There was a pile of gray boards stacked under the pine trees that Johnny’s dad said we could have.

  “Watch out for rusty nails!”

  We dragged the boards deep into the trees, and made a club house. Johnny wouldn’t let me use the hammer because I was a girl. I threw a pinecone hard at his back, and he laughed. Instead, I searched for flat logs that we used as table and chairs, and broad pieces of bark to use for plates. We pretended we were prospectors looking for gold, finishing our base camp.

  While searching for gold out in the back woods, we discovered a clay bank. The red clay was easy to dig out with our fingers, and we chattered in excitement about selling it. Who wouldn’t want to buy the soft clay that rolled up so nicely into balls? As the pile of clay grew, our topic changed to what we wanted to buy with our money after we sold it. Johnny wanted a race car, and I wanted a pony.