Just South of Home

by Karen Strong

  “We need to get to Jasper’s house,” I said. “We don’t want Jasper’s mama to wake up and find us gone.”

  And with that, we rushed back to the Beaverdam Trailer Park.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  A Solid Plan

  When we got back to Jasper’s tent, all the lights were still out in his trailer. We let out a collective sigh of relief and dropped our flashlights on the picnic table. Nobody said anything. Janie stared off into space with teary eyes. Jasper held his head in his hands. Ellis wiped his nose with his shirt. My trembling fingers were still cold as ice.

  I looked up at the sky. The moon was full and bright. It was at its highest point and would now make the gradual fall into the west. Abner had lived under this same moon. Did he ever wonder about its beauty or where it came from? Did he know that the moon’s highest mountain was Mons Huygens? He probably didn’t. Unlike me, he wasn’t surrounded by astronomy books. But I would like to think he marveled at the moon, the stars, and the universe. I hoped he had found joy when he was alive on this earth.

  One day I wanted to discover life on another planet, but tonight I discovered death right here. We had uncovered one of Warrenville’s darkest secrets.

  Could I tell this to Mama? Should I? She would use her lawyer skills and prepare litigation. She would want to go after the Alcott estate and make an argument for a civil case. But there wasn’t an Alcott estate. There wasn’t a Shiloh anymore. The Alcotts had long been dead. There was no one left to punish. The only thing left was the restless spirit of a little boy.

  Would Mama even believe in all of this? People in Warrenville talked about haints, but did they really have faith in what Mrs. Whitney said? She had pleaded with them at the Heritage Festival, and the townsfolk had turned their backs.

  Janie moved beside me. Her eyes were dry now, and they burned with a new resolve. “We have to go back, Sarah,” she said.

  “I need to process all of this first.”

  “Sarah, we found out what happened. We need to help him. We’re all he has left.”

  “When the haints came into the road . . . did you recognize any of the names? From the Wall of Remembrance?” I asked.

  Janie closed her eyes. “I can’t remember any of the names I saw on the wall. There were too many.” She took my hand and squeezed it. “This is why it’s so important. Maybe then the rest of the town will pay attention.”

  “Haven’t we done enough?” Ellis whined.

  “Janie’s right. We have to do something,” Jasper said.

  “Like what?” Ellis protested. “Last time I checked, we were kids.”

  “We should dig him up,” Janie said.

  “I ain’t digging up no bones!” Ellis cried.

  “Nobody asked you!” Janie screeched.

  “Shhh,” Jasper said. “Keep it down already. You’re gonna wake the whole trailer park up.”

  Ellis shook his head. “So you dig him up. What you gonna do then?”

  “We give the bones to the police,” Janie said.

  “And you don’t think they won’t ask how we got those bones?” I asked.

  “Why do you think he showed us where he was buried? He wants us to dig him up,” Janie said.

  The vision revealed the mystery of Abner’s disappearance. Clearly enough for us to mark his grave with rocks. Maybe it was as simple as getting a shovel.

  “That may be true. But Abner has been dead a long time. Someone else must have seen something before we came along,” I said.

  “We can interview everybody in town,” Ellis said. “Have you seen haints? Mist? Creepy shadows?”

  Janie rolled her eyes. “Let’s face it, if someone else saw what we saw, they would have dug him up already. No one else knows about this.”

  “You can let me know how it works out,” Ellis said. “I ain’t digging up no haint.”

  My brother was right. We might not be able to do this by ourselves, but we couldn’t leave Abner in that awful place either.

  “Let’s just try and get some rest and come up with a game plan in the morning,” I said.

  • • •

  The next morning, my whole body ached from sleeping on the ground, and my mouth felt raw. The cold had thawed from my fingers, and they tingled back to life. Janie was sleeping next to me, the boys across from us, deep in their sleeping bags. The tent had sagged down lower as we slept, so I had to search for my overnight bag on my hands and knees.

  I crept out of the tent and stretched my legs. The sky still was in the predawn darkness and filled with stars. I looked west and saw the full moon setting.

  I thought of Abner, woken up from his dream, waiting for Sophie to find him, and had an idea.

  Peering back into the tent, I made sure everyone was still fast asleep. Then I crept up on Jasper’s bike and started to pedal away from the Beaverdam Trailer Park. I needed to make an early morning visit.

  I rode Jasper’s bike down Hardeman Road to Mrs. Whitney’s house. It was where her brother had lived before he passed away earlier this spring. She had been staying here since she came back to Warrenville.

  The sun started to rise as I veered off the paved road to a dirt lane. The small clapboard house was on a plot of land surrounded by fields. A small garden was on one side, and a collection of marigolds and sunflowers was on the other. The porch was full of ferns, petunias, and spider plants. It was one big bouquet.

  Mrs. Whitney was outside, sweeping the porch. Dust puffed into the air with each push of her broom. She wore a blue housecoat, her hair tied up in a yellow turban. She fit in perfectly with her garden.

  When she saw me coming into the yard, she stopped sweeping and smiled.

  “You caught me in the middle of domestic work.” She leaned on her broom. “But you’re right on time. I need to change the light on my porch, and I need some help.”

  Mrs. Whitney reached over to a wood table and grabbed a lightbulb. “Get that folding chair for me.”

  I got off Jasper’s bike and retrieved the metal chair. She positioned it under the faulty light. Mrs. Whitney stepped up and reached to unscrew the bulb. “Hold it now. Keep it steady.”

  I held the chair and stared up as Mrs. Whitney loomed above me. “We know what happened to Abner,” I blurted.

  The metal chair squeaked, but Mrs. Whitney continued to concentrate on the lightbulb, humming a tune. The new bulb cracked on and glowed like a tiny yellow sun. She stepped down from the chair to face me.

  “Don’t you want to know how we found out?” I asked her.

  After placing the folding chair against the porch rail, Mrs. Whitney guided me to the porch swing. Instead of answering me, she pushed her feet off the floor. We glided through the air, the thick morning breeze warm on my legs.

  “I think you’re about to tell me anyway, Miss Sarah,” she said.

  I thought of the haints moaning the names of the dead and how sad I still felt, knowing they’d been trapped for so many years. Even now, my chest felt heavy with the burden. I put my hand over my heart.

  “Last night we went to Creek Church during the Witching Hour.”

  “That’s mighty dangerous,” Mrs. Whitney said. “And mighty brave.”

  “Thinking back on it now, it probably wasn’t the best plan. We should have told you, but I wanted to see if we could help Abner ourselves. But he wouldn’t leave.”

  “Some spirits are easier to wrangle than others.” Mrs. Whitney paused. “This will be my second time trying to help Abner.”

  “Wait. You’ve tried before?”

  “When I was about your age, maybe a little older, I went to Creek Church,” she said. “But I wasn’t alone. I had his blood kin with me.”

  Mrs. Whitney took a lace handkerchief out of her housecoat pocket and blotted her forehead. She twisted the cloth in her hand. “I need a cold drink.” She stood up. “Would you like some lemonade?”

  I nodded and followed Mrs. Whitney into the house. I sat down on a couch in the front room, which
was filled with boxes, each one labeled with Mrs. Whitney’s elegant script. After a few moments she appeared, holding a metal tray with a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses that clinked and wobbled with each careful step.

  “It’s never too early for lemonade.” She poured a glass for each of us. I wanted to swallow it in quick gulps, but I took careful sips.

  Mrs. Whitney sat down next to me and drank from her glass. She stared at the pitcher for several seconds. Then she looked at me. “Lena found her mama’s diary in an old trunk. She knew the Shiloh story well, and I convinced her to go to Creek Church with me.”

  I thought of Mrs. Greene as a young girl named Lena, someone who was curious and had many adventures. I couldn’t connect that girl to the grandma that I knew now.

  “As you already know, Creek Church is a scary place. Lena was afraid. I was too.” Mrs. Whitney stood up and walked to the window. “We did try to help that boy’s spirit, but we failed. Later, I went back with my mama, but we couldn’t convince him.”

  “Because only blood kin can put a spirit to rest?” I asked.

  “That’s right. I pleaded with Lena, but she wanted nothing more to do with it. I gave her protective charms, but she claimed they were evil and threw them out. In a fit of rage, she even tore out pages from her mama’s diary and burned them. After that, we stopped being friends. Then I got married and moved away, but I still thought about those spirits trapped there.” Mrs. Whitney let out a heavy sigh. The sound was loud in the quiet room. “It was one of the reasons I came back. I haven’t forgotten them.”

  “During the Witching Hour, Abner showed us where he’s buried. Alcott really did kill him to keep the land,” I said.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Whitney said. “So Abner’s spirit stays at Creek Church waiting to be found.”

  I got up and stood in front of Mrs. Whitney. “But if we can retrieve his bones, can he leave that place?”

  “Maybe,” Mrs. Whitney said. “What we really need is an imprint of his beloved Sophie. He needs to feel her essence to know it’s time to leave.”

  I thought of Mrs. Greene’s attic. I was certain all of Sophie’s belongings were locked up in that trunk. If we had Sophie’s things, we could convince him to leave Creek Church, and we could save him.

  “I know how to get Sophie’s belongings,” I said.

  “Your grandma still wants nothing to do with this,” Mrs. Whitney said. “Nothing has changed.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I think I know what we need to do.”

  • • •

  I found everyone waiting for me at the picnic table in the yard.

  “Where did you go?” Ellis asked. “We thought a haint kidnapped you!”

  “I was getting worried,” Jasper said. “Your mama will be here any minute now.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t wake me up,” Janie complained.

  Dark circles appeared under their eyes, and I touched my own face for puffiness. I told them everything. How Mrs. Whitney had tried to save Abner’s spirit before with Mrs. Greene. “Mrs. Whitney wants to dig up the grave,” I said. “She agreed to help us.”

  “What’s her plan?” Jasper asked.

  “Her fiancé, Mr. Coolidge, is a mortician, just like Granddaddy Greene was. He knows people who can help us dig up Abner’s grave,” I said.

  “It may not be that easy,” Jasper said. “We couldn’t get Abner to leave last night, and then you got those other haints. They might get even angrier if we take Abner away.”

  “Mrs. Whitney mentioned that,” I said. “She says if we get some of Sophie’s things, she believes it may convince him to leave.”

  “How you gonna get those things?” Ellis asked. “Ain’t they locked up in Mrs. Greene’s attic?”

  They stared at me. I had told Mrs. Whitney it wouldn’t be a problem, but I knew it would be a challenge.

  “We have to get into the house without her knowing,” I said.

  “You can count me out,” Ellis said. “Nope. Not interested.”

  Jasper looked at me as if I were crazy. “How will you get inside your grandma’s house?”

  Spending summers at Mrs. Greene’s house had given me a bit of insider information: I knew where she kept her special things.

  “She has a spare key, and I know where she hides it,” I said. “We can go in while she’s at the Deaconess Board meeting. She has one every Monday. Then we can help Abner for real.”

  “Do you have a death wish?” Ellis asked.

  “I’m sorry,” Jasper said. “This sounds all kinds of wrong.”

  “This is a solid plan,” Janie said. “We don’t need either of you.”

  Mama drove up to the trailer, and that was the end of our conversation. We gathered our things out of the tent and climbed into the car.

  “You survived the wild outdoors.” She smiled.

  Ellis hopped in the front passenger seat and kissed her on her cheek. “I missed you, Mama.”

  “Oh, sweetheart,” she said. “It was just one night.”

  “We could have died, though.” Ellis sighed, and Janie kicked his seat.

  Janie slid closer to me. “I like this new Sarah.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Hoodlum Children

  On Monday morning I fried two eggs for Ellis and even made him pancakes. He focused on his food and wouldn’t look at us.

  “You sure you don’t want to come with us?” Janie asked him.

  “No,” Ellis said. “I wanna keep my life.”

  “Nothing bad is gonna happen,” I said. “Mrs. Greene will be at the Deaconess Board meeting. She’s been going to that meeting since I’ve been on this earth.”

  “Fine. We don’t need his help anyway,” Janie said.

  “It actually may be better if he doesn’t go,” I said. “We need bikes to get there.”

  “You can’t take my bike!” Ellis protested.

  “We’ll be back before you know it,” Janie said.

  Ellis frowned but decided to just shove more pancakes into his mouth.

  “Okay, we should leave,” I said. “We need to have as much time as possible to find what we need.”

  Janie put on her backpack and watched me as I laced up my sneakers.

  I felt her stare and looked up. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Janie smiled. “I just never thought you had it in you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you’d told me that you were down for breaking into our grandma’s house to help a ghost boy, I would have thought that you were cuckoo. Yet here we are.”

  I stood up and walked to the doorway. “It’s the right thing to do. We need to save Abner, even if that means breaking into Mrs. Greene’s house. She’ll thank us one day.”

  “Not a chance,” Janie said.

  We passed the den and found Ellis playing one of his video games. He dropped his console and crashed his car.

  “Be careful, okay? At the first sign of trouble you need to bail out.”

  Janie and I went into the garage. My stomach was in knots. This wasn’t my finest hour, and Mama would be disappointed, but I couldn’t stand by and forget about Abner or the rest of the spirits trapped in Warrenville.

  Janie rode ahead of me, gliding from side to side in the road. Most people in Warrenville had long been at work, so we didn’t see any cars. After cruising on Hardeman Road and Westmore Trail, we rolled down the hill on Cherokee Road and then turned in to the driveway to Mrs. Greene’s house. I looked at my watch. It was 11:13 a.m. with no car in sight. We rode along the side of the house to the backyard. If I remembered correctly, Mrs. Greene had hidden her spare key in a red plant pot.

  We walked into the screened back porch. Janie tried the back doorknob. “Too bad country people lock their doors now. Where’s the key?”

  “She hid it in the sage last summer.” I searched the row of plants. Thyme, oregano, and other herbs. My eyes locked on the red pot in the corner. “Found it,” I said, and squatted down in fr
ont of it.

  I put my finger in the pot and poked around, but all I felt were roots and grainy dirt between my fingers.

  “Anything?” Janie asked.

  I prodded deeper, and then my fingers hit against something hard. I kept digging. The key! I pulled it out of the dirt.

  “There it is.” Janie beamed at me.

  We went to the back door. I eagerly put the key in the lock, but it wouldn’t budge. “It’s stuck,” I said.

  “Let me try.” Janie took the key and wiped some more dirt off it before turning the key in the lock. Nothing.

  “Maybe it’s for the front door,” I said.

  Janie wiped the sweat off her forehead. “We can try.”

  We snuck to the front of the house. Same result.

  “She changed the locks,” I said. “Or this isn’t the right key.”

  We scampered to the back again. We needed a new plan. There was a possibility Mrs. Greene had hidden another key somewhere else, but we didn’t have enough time to look for it. We were wasting precious minutes.

  “We should leave,” I said. “We can’t get in.”

  We walked farther into the backyard. Janie and I searched around the house until she pointed to an open upstairs window: Its curtains blew in the summer breeze.

  “That’s how we’re getting in,” she said.

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Do you want to get some of Sophie’s stuff or not?” Janie asked.

  “How are you going to get up there?”

  Janie scanned the backyard and then headed to the shed near Mrs. Greene’s garden. “She should have a ladder in here, right?”

  “Isn’t that kind of dangerous?”

  “I’m not scared of heights,” Janie said.

  Janie opened the shed door and ventured inside. I held my nose to the smell of musty air and fertilizer. A rusty metal ladder leaned against the far wall.

  “We can use this,” Janie said.

  I didn’t like this idea at all. What if Janie fell off?

  Janie brought the ladder out of the shed, and I got a dirty rag to remove the cobwebs and dead spiders. Then we pushed the ladder up against the house.