by Ann Walsh
But it wasn’t David at the door. Kelly could hear that only too clearly as a woman’s voice filtered down to the kitchen.
“But really, Alan, we can’t let this sort of thing go on happening. It MUST be stopped.” Clara Overton swept into the kitchen, flinging an arm around Kelly, her charm bracelet jangling. “Oh, my dear, how BRAVE you were. To go into that awful house, so UNSANITARY, and take that poor old man to hospital.”
“Not really. . .” Kelly began, pulling away from the woman’s embrace.
“Oh, yes, and that nice David, too, so COMPETENT. Mrs. Terpen says he’s quite good looking.” She looked at Kelly coyly, smiling knowingly.
“Those rotten twins!” thought Kelly. Obviously Tommy and Trisha had spread the story of David kissing her to everyone in Soda Creek.
“But, as I was saying to your father, this can NOT go on! That horrible little ghost thing can’t keep on jumping out in front of people, scaring them half to DEATH! We simply can not allow her to stay here any longer.”
“Um, sure, Miss O., that’s a great idea, but just how are we going to get her to leave? And besides,” Kelly went on, more softly, “besides, she didn’t mean to hurt Mr. Crinchley. It’s not her fault that people are frightened of her.”
“I have a PLAN, Kelly, and your father agrees that it just might work.”
Kelly looked at her father, who busied himself at the stove, refusing to meet her eyes.
“A PRIEST,” Miss Overton announced triumphantly. “A priest to exorcise the ghost and send her away forever!”
“What? But you can’t do that to her. She’s not an evil spirit that needs to be exorcised, a demon or something wicked, Miss O. She’s just lost and. . .”
“Easy, Kelly.” Alan moved beside Kelly, one hand on her shoulder. “Clara doesn’t mean a real exorcism, that takes months to get approved. She just wants her own priest to come out here and say a few prayers.”
“But we can’t send the ghost away until we know what she wants and why she’s here!” Kelly was angry now, her dinner pushed to one side, her hands clenched. “Please, don’t send her away yet.”
“But we can’t have her popping up at all hours of the day and night, frightening people, Kelly. Especially not when her appearance results in someone getting hurt, as happened to Ed today. Next time it could be more serious.”
Kelly sighed and unclenched her fists. “I know,” she said softly, remembering Ed Crinchley’s pale face, the pain lines slashing deeply across it, and the way he’d kept fading in and out of consciousness. “I know. But I don’t want her hurt.”
“You can’t HURT a ghost, Kelly.” Miss Overton had been listening to the exchange between Kelly and her father with a puzzled expression on her face. “And you can’t keep a ghost around the way you’d keep a stray KITTEN. I don’t understand you, Kelly.”
“You’re right, Miss O. I just don’t seem to be able to think rationally about her. She seemed so. . .”
“Perhaps it’s your age, Kelly. Girls your age tend to be ROMANTICISTS about everything.”
“Maybe.”
“Anyway, it’s all arranged. Father Glenn will be here at eight—why that’s less than an hour from now. You will come, won’t you Kelly? I’ve just got time to pop some rhubarb muffins in the oven, and I’ll make fresh coffee for us all.”
“What?” Kelly was confused.
“Clara wants us to go over to her house this evening, Kelly, and talk to the priest,” explained Alan.
“Tonight? You mean he’s coming here tonight, Dad?” There was a shrillness in Kelly’s voice that surprised her.
“Yes. It will be okay, Kelly. It can’t hurt, you know.”
“No,” said Kelly. “It can’t hurt us anyway.”
“See you later, then,” Miss Overton called, heading for the door. She was drawn back to the kitchen by Alan’s voice.
“Clara? Do we need to have all the people who have seen the ghost present for this—for whatever the priest will do—to work?”
“I don’t know, Alan. But we’ll have an evening together, you and me and Kelly. And Father Glenn.”
Alan grinned at his daughter, then turned back to the teacher. “Really, Clara, I think the whole community should be invited to participate in this. We should invite the others who have seen the ghost as well.”
“Others? Oh, yes, Kelly did say that other people had ... of course, Alan, if you think. . .” Miss Overton seemed flustered.
“Definitely, Clara. We should all be there. I’ll tell Ben, and perhaps you’d phone the Terpens and see if the twins can join us, too.”
“Ben? One of the men who live in the house with the big garden?”
“Sure, Clara. Ben saw the ghost just after you did. You must invite him.”
Miss Overton seemed very uneasy. “Yes, well, I mean, I’ve NEVER had one of them in my house before.”
“And David,” said Kelly. “He saw the ghost, too.”
“Well, yes, certainly do invite your friend, Kelly. Such a nice young man. I’ll make extra muffins, but I really don’t know if the twins. . .” She hurried away, muttering to herself.
“Dad! That was cruel,” said Kelly. “I think Miss O. was planning a quiet evening with us, especially you.”
“Well, at least I didn’t tell her that Basil had seen the ghost too, and insist that she invite him and Joan.”
“No.” Kelly was silent for a moment, thinking of her own reaction when Joan and Basil had arrived at the door yesterday morning. “No. I don’t think Miss O. is ready for that yet.”
“Well, eat up, Kelly, and let’s get these dishes done and those invitations to Clara’s ‘ghostbusting’ party issued.”
And when Kelly and her father arrived, somewhat late, at Miss Overton’s home, there was a sense of a party in the air. Father Glenn, a tall young man with a full, black beard, sat in a big armchair, Tommy and Trisha at his feet. On the coffee table was a jumble of canvas and bright strands of wool, and Bob and Clara sat shuffling through patterns. “I had no IDEA you were interested in this kind of work,” Kelly heard the teacher say as she and her father let themselves in. “You must bring more of your projects and let me see them, Bob. How nice to find someone who shares my interest in the CREATIVE crafts.”
Ben was pouring coffee from a large coffee butler on the dining room table, and he greeted them with a smile. “Hi. Bob brought Clara one of his crewel pieces, and the two of them have been buried in that pile of wool ever since. And the twins have been keeping Father Glenn well entertained.”
“Oh, Kelly, Alan, you’re here. And you too, David,” said Miss Overton as the door opened again and David looked in.
“Hi. I knocked but no one seemed to hear me,” he said.
“Come in. Here, let me take your coats. Father Glenn, this is Kelly and Alan Linden and David.” The teacher was flushed with excitement, and her arms flew as she spoke, gesturing. “My, I had no idea this would be such FUN.”
“Yes, Clara,” said the young priest, “but time is moving on, and I heard you promise Mrs. Terpen that the twins wouldn’t be out too late on a school night. Maybe we should get to work on your problem.”
“Problem?” asked Trisha.
“He means the ghost, stupid,” answered her brother.
“Ghosts aren’t problems. They’re just . . . just ghosts!”
“Tommy and Trisha have been telling me about how they saw the ghost, and Clara has told me of her sighting,” said the priest. “If the rest of you would share your experiences, it would give me a better idea of the scale of the problem. And perhaps some clue as to what would be the best thing to do.”
Everyone settled down and, somewhat reluctantly, the other sightings were reported. Alan looked apologetically at his daughter, aware that he hadn’t told her directly that he, too, had seen the little ghost. Then he told of meeting the small girl in his still dark hallway early in the morning as he went to the kitchen to start preparing breakfast. David told of the ghost’s visit
to the cow barn, and Ben explained how he had seen her out in his garden, near the raspberry canes.
“My aunt has seen her, too,” added David.
“And Basil from the reserve,” said Alan.
“From the RESERVE?” Miss Overton’s voice was shrill. “Oh, I had no idea that they. . .”
“I suppose there’s still time to phone and invite Basil and Joan,” said Kelly, her face straight.
“Oh, do you think I should?”
“It’s all right, Clara,” said Alan, coming to her rescue. “You have a large enough houseful for tonight. I’m sure Basil will forgive you for not inviting him.”
Father Glenn cleared his throat. “When Clara asked me to come out here,” he said, “I didn’t know what to say to her. I didn’t realize that so many of you had seen this little ghost, so many different people. And dealing with ghosts is something I’ve never had to do before.”
“Can’t you do nothing, then?” asked Tommy.
“You mean, she’ll just have to stay?” added Trisha.
The twins had been surprisingly quiet for a while, but now showed every sign of making up for that silence.
“In Ghostbusters they had this electronic thing,” said Trisha.
“Yeah. With coloured lines coming out from it.”
“It was real scary.”
“Was not. You’re a chicken, Trish.”
“Am not!”
“Hold it, twins.” The young priest spoke firmly. “I didn’t say there wasn’t anything I could do, just that I had never run into this problem before. I have come up with something that I think will help. I don’t guarantee anything, but I don’t think what I have in mind will hurt to try.”
“Have you got one of those electronic things, too?”
“Can I try it? Please?” Tommy’s eyes were wide at the thought of actually getting his hands on a ‘ghostbusting’ machine.
“It’s not that exciting, Tommy. Sorry. Just some prayers, and some special water we use in our church. Holy water. I brought quite a bit of it, not knowing how much we’d need.” He reached down beside his chair and brought up an ice-cream bucket, firmly lidded, half full of water.
“It looks ordinary to me,” said Tommy, disappointed. Around the room Kelly could see a few nods as some of the adults silently agreed with him.
“Yes, but this water has been blessed, so it isn’t ordinary anymore, Tommy. When we bless the water we say special prayers over it, and I thought that I would say some of those prayers again, right here. Then we’ll go to everyone’s house and sprinkle this water around their doorways. Maybe that will keep your little ghost from pestering you.”
“Oh, yes, Father. Do let’s begin and put an end to all this FEAR,” Miss Overton urged.
“I shall, Clara. That is, if all of you are in agreement that this is what you wish?” No one answered him, but again heads nodded. The priest stood and took a purple stole from his pocket. He kissed it, then draped it around his neck. The room grew quiet, all eyes on him, expectantly. He crossed himself, and began.
“Oh, water, creature of God, may you put to flight and drive away from the places where you are sprinkled every apparition, villainy, and turn of devilish deceit, and every unclean spirit.” He paused, crossed himself again, and continued. “Every unclean spirit. Almighty and everlasting God, bless this water which you created and gave to the use of mankind, so that it may rid whatever it touches or sprinkles of all uncleanliness and protect it from every assault of evil spirits. Let whatever might menace the safety of those who live here be put to flight by the sprinkling of this water, so that all may be secure against all attack. Amen.”
There was silence for a moment, and then Tommy spoke.
“Is that all?”
“I thought it would be longer,” said Trisha. “And more interesting.”
Miss Overton gasped at the twins’ comments, but Father Glenn smiled at the children. “That’s all,” he said. “It’s just a small part of the special prayers for blessing the water. Since this water has already been blessed, I didn’t think we’d need to do all the prayers over again. I can say more, make it longer, if you want.”
“No,” chorused the twins. “Can we go put water on the houses now?”
“Yes, of course,” the priest answered, and the rest of the small congregation, assured that the blessing had finished, began to stand, reach for coats, hats and scarves, ready to follow Father Glenn out into the night. Ready to disinfect their small community, cleanse it of a ghost-child.
Tommy and Trisha were out the door first, urging the priest, now carefully holding the uncovered bucket of holy water, to hurry, hurry.
The twins stepped out the door first, but Kelly heard it first. “Listen!” she said. “Oh, listen to her.”
Faintly, from somewhere, yet from nowhere in the December dark, a small, high sound came drifting down the snow-covered road, a sound as thin and unsubstantial as the smoke from a chimney, yet just as real. The sound of crying. The heart wrenching sound of a small child crying and crying and crying.
Chapter 10
“Leave her alone, leave her alone!” Kelly’s voice rose above the thin sound of crying. She reached out, tore the bucket of holy water from the astonished priest’s hand, and threw it across Clara Overton’s snow-covered lawn. “Can’t you hear? She’s frightened, hurting. Don’t chase her away, leave her alone!”
A gust of wind caught the empty bucket, rolling it gently across the crisp snow, making a scraping noise that seemed loud in the sudden stillness. The crying had stopped.
Kelly spoke softly into the silence. “It’s all right now, little one. It’s all right.” Then she burst into tears herself.
“Kelly!” Alan Linden pushed his way through the silent crowd on the front porch, trying to reach his daughter, but Kelly was gone, running, still weeping, towards her own home. A door slammed, and once again there was silence.
“This is most upsetting,” said Father Glenn. “I didn’t really expect to experience your little ghost myself. I somehow thought—well, she has proved that she does exist.”
“I’m sorry, Father. Kelly has developed a very strong attachment for the ghost-child. She hasn’t been herself since she first saw her,” apologized Alan.
“Kelly’s in real trouble now, I bet.” Tommy spoke almost cheerfully.
“Are you going to ground her, Mr. Linden?”
“We’d get a licking if we shouted at grown-ups the way Kelly did.”
“Yeah. And grabbed things like that.”
The twins’ chatter seemed to prompt the adults, and they, too began to speak together. “Will Kelly be all right, Alan?” asked Bob, his gentle voice scarcely audible over Clara Overton’s loud apology to Father Glenn for that “unseemly outburst of juvenile TEMPER,” and the priest’s assurances that neither he, nor the Church, had been offended.
“I understand better now,” he said, “and I am the one who should be sorry. I had no idea that your ghost was so real, so real yet so troubled. I am afraid I have meddled where I shouldn’t have.”
Clara’s guests told her good-bye, and made their way down the stairs, across the snow-covered lawn where a sheen of new ice crystals was all that was left of the holy water. Then, silent once again, they separated, heading for their own homes.
David fell into step beside Alan, who shook his head, explaining, “I’d rather you didn’t come over right now, David. I think it would be better if I spoke with Kelly alone. I don’t know why she is reacting this way.”
“All right, Mr. Linden. I understand,” said David, and turned around, taking a few steps down the road towards the commune at the far end. Then he hesitated and turned back, calling, “Is it all right, I mean, do you mind if I drop by tomorrow after school to see Kelly?”
Alan stood still, and for a moment it seemed as if he wasn’t going to answer. Then he said, “Yes, I suppose you may, David. But remember that Kelly’s very young. And very vulnerable right now.”
&n
bsp; “I understand, sir.”
Ben and Bob had started down the road when Ben called to the priest who was unlocking the door of his small car. “Father, we seem to have abandoned you.”
“You must think us a very inhospitable group,” added Bob. “No one has thanked you for your trouble in coming here tonight.”
“I’m afraid I caused more trouble than I cured,” said the priest. “I seem to have upset both the ghost and Kelly so I don’t believe any thanks are necessary; I just wish I could have been of assistance.”
Clara Overton, standing alone on her front porch, called good night, almost absently, then went into her house, closing the door and turning off her porch light. Almost immediately the Linden’s porch light also went off.
Ben and Bob said a final good night, and their outdoor lights went dark at almost the same moment as Mrs. Terpen ushered the twins through their front door and extinguished the light above it.
The young priest stood alone on the road. He sighed, then crossed himself. “God bless all of those here, all of them. Especially the little one.”
As he drove away, the car’s headlights parted the dark like a curtain, then let it close in again, thick and solid. Soda Creek was dark, dark and silent. Until the crying began again.
Chapter 11
Kelly came to breakfast the next morning with eyelids puffy and swollen, hair uncombed and tangled. Her father took one look at her, then put his arms around her. “Kelly? Are you all right?”
“Oh, Dad, she cried all night!”
“I know. I heard her too. And you, Kelly? How long did you cry before you slept?”
“I don’t know.” Kelly sat down at the table, cradling her head in her arms. “I’m sorry, Dad. I couldn’t talk to anyone last night, not even you. I don’t know why I feel so upset, or why I’m behaving like a two-year old.”
“Not quite,” said her father. “Not quite as badly as when you were two. You had tantrums and tears down to a fine art back then.” He grinned at her.
An answering grin pulled at Kelly’s lips, then faded. “What’s wrong with me, Dad? Why do I feel so upset by her, our ghost? Why am I crying all the time lately? I never cry, you know that. What’s wrong with me?”
