Amanda in New Mexico

by Foster, Darlene;

  Once there, Amanda noticed many people going into the opened gates carrying flowers, fruits, candies and even stuffed animals. She joined her classmates as they followed the crowd through the entrance.

  Amanda teared up when she saw people placing items on graves. But she observed they were cheerful as they tidied the area around headstones and lovingly arranged flowers.

  Then she noticed Jim. He placed a china doll by a small gravestone. She walked over and read the inscription.

  Sonia Juarez, age 12

  Loving Daughter of James and Alma Juarez

  Amanda gulped. “Is this your daughter?”

  “Yes,” said Jim. “She was only twelve years old when she died of leukemia.” A tear slipped down the big man’s cheek. “When I see other children laughing and enjoying life, I get so angry. I get even more annoyed when I think they are making fun of our old way of life.” He heaved a sigh. “My wife couldn’t handle my anger and left me many years ago. I only wish I could hold my daughter one more time and tell her that I love her.” Jim looked away to hide his tears.

  Amanda noticed Jim’s shoulders shaking. “I’m sure your daughter knows how much you love her.” She placed her small hand over his large one.

  Glancing at the date on the headstone, she realized Sonia died fifteen years ago.

  “Was it your daughter who sent a letter to herself which didn’t arrive until recently?”

  “I believe so, but I haven’t seen the letter.” Jim’s chin trembled.

  “I just read about it. The article said she wrote about her good life and her wonderful parents. She wouldn’t want you to be angry, Mr. Juarez.”

  The big man turned around and smiled through his tears. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

  “Also, we have not been making fun of your old ways. We find it all very fascinating. I plan to write a story about it when I get back home.”

  “I’m sorry for being so mean to you kids.” Jim’s voice cracked. “Thanks for coming to honour my daughter’s grave. She would have liked you.”

  As they walked out of the cemetery together Amanda asked, “Why are there bones in the old house by the church?”

  “We were planning to pull those old houses down when we discovered a human bone. So we started digging under the house and found more. We are still trying to figure out who they belong to and why they’re there. It’s all hush-hush. No one knows about them yet. So maybe don’t put that in your story.” He winked.

  Cleo ran up to Amanda all out of breath, eyes shining. “She’s here. I know she is here in this cemetery!”

  “Who?”

  “The girl, I mean the ghost of the girl I’ve been seeing. You know, the one at the hacienda and at the pueblo. I figured out what she’s been trying to tell me. She wants me to know that a long time ago she was bullied and couldn’t handle it. So she jumped off the bridge. She doesn’t want me to do something like that.” Cleo looked like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

  “Did she tell you this?”

  “No, not really. But I just know that’s what she’s been trying to tell me.” Cleo sighed as she looked up to the clear blue sky.

  Amanda suddenly understood just how important it was for Cleo to believe she had seen this ghost and that the ghost had a message for her. She reached for her and gave her a huge hug.

  Jim came to the Mabel Dodge Lohan house to see the students off later that afternoon. He apologized for his actions and welcomed the children back anytime.

  Amanda was pleased to see a smile on his rugged face. “It was nice to meet you, Jim. Good luck with your investigations. Perhaps you can let me know what you find.”

  The big man bent down and gave Amanda a hug. “Thanks,” he mumbled as he pressed a small object in her hand. “Good luck with your writing.”

  She unclasped her hand and found a small silver milagro of a hand holding a pen.

  “Thank you so much. I will treasure this forever.” Amanda grinned from ear to ear.

  Jim’s eyes softened. “This belonged to my daughter. She loved to write stories, just like you.”

  The students said goodbye to Audrey and boarded the bus to Albuquerque. Amanda sat beside Ms. Bowler.

  “Did you enjoy the trip, Amanda?”

  “I sure did, even though there was more about ghosts than I would have liked. I’m worried about Cleo though. Some people say she’s crazy. She seems obsessed with ghosts. I still can’t believe they exist. Do you?”

  The teacher thought for a minute. “I think it doesn’t matter. It’s whatever you want to believe. If you believe there are ghosts, then there are. If you don’t, then there aren’t. Some people claim to see spirits and ghosts, and perhaps they do.” She patted Amanda’s hand. “As for Cleo, she has many challenges to deal with, but she is not crazy. You have been a good friend to her on this trip. She needs that. Maybe you could write a story about her, with a happy ending.”

  Amanda’s face lit up. “Yes, that’s what I’ll do!”

  From a couple of rows back Caleb shouted, “Hey, Amanda! Where will you be going to next?”

  Amanda turned around and beamed. “I’m not sure, but my friend, Leah, is begging me to come to Holland and see the tulips with her.”

  “There probably won’t be any ghosts there.” Caleb winked.

  Amanda’s cheeks turned red. “I sure hope not.”

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  1. Why do you think Cleo is so anxious and unhappy?

  2. Why does Cleo think the ghost of the girl wants to tell her something?

  3. Is Jim really a mean person?

  4. What do you think Caleb captured on his camera in the gambling room at the St. James Hotel?

  5. Have you heard of Wyatt Earp, Kit Carsen, or Annie Oakley before?

  6. Does Amanda get in trouble on purpose?

  7. Do you think there are such things as ghosts?

  8. Would you enjoy a class trip like the one Amanda and her classmates went on?

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I would like to express my sincere gratitude to those who assisted me throughout the writing of this story. To the awesome writers in my critique group, Marion Isberg, Yvonne Pont and Cyndy Greeno who stuck with me every step of the way, giving me honest critiques, suggestions and reasons to continue, I am eternally grateful. To Donna Cluff, my travel buddy, soul mate and friend since birth, thank you so much for coming with me on this adventure and for checking the story for facts. Thank you to horror writer Tausha Johnson who beta read the book and advised on the scary parts. This book would not be a reality without the hard work and meticulous eye of my editor, Michelle Halket of Central Avenue Publishing, to whom I owe a huge thank you. I would also like to thank the wonderful people at the Taos Pueblo who welcomed me and kindly shared their way of life.

  Thanks to my parents for encouraging me to be open to all possibilities, to my children who believe in me and to my dear husband for giving me the space to do my scribblings. Thank you to the devoted Amanda Ross followers who have gone with her on all her adventures and keep asking for more. You are the reason I write.

  Although the places in this book are real, the characters and events come solely from my imagination. Any factual errors are my own.

  The next book in the Amanda

  Travels series…

  “Who is that boy?” asked Amanda.

  Her great-aunt adjusted her glasses and squinted at the faded black and white photograph in the battered album. “That is my oldest brother, Harold.” She placed a wrinkled hand on her heart and glanced away. “I believe he was sixteen in that picture. Let me see, yes, it was just before he joined the army.”

  “You mean he was in the war?”

  “Yes, he was in World War II. Harold was so excited to join up he lied about his age.” A tear rolled down Great-Aunt Mary’s cheek. “But, he never came back. Missing in action was what they told our parents.” She sighed. “I still miss him after all these years.”

 
“That’s so sad. I didn’t know anyone in our family had been in the war. We’ve been learning about twentieth century wars at school.” Amanda looked at the picture again. “Is that his dog beside him?”

  “Yes, that was Joey, his Cocker spaniel. Joey was devoted to Harold. He went to the railway station every day waiting for his master, until he passed away seven years later.” Aunt Mary had a faraway look.

  “Here, you can have this picture.” Aunt Mary carefully took the snapshot from the silver corner tabs holding it in place. “Harold had spunk, just like you. And he wanted to see the world. Last time we heard from him, he was in Holland.”

  “Really? I’m going to Holland to meet my friend, Leah Anderson, from England next week. She wants me to see the tulip fields. You like tulips, don’t you, Aunt Mary?”

  “Oh, yes. They are my favourite flower. One time Harold saved up his pennies to buy me a tulip for my birthday.”

  Amanda took one last gulp of tea and brushed her bangs from her eyes. “Thanks so much. I need to get going.” She kissed her great-aunt on the cheek.

  “Have a wonderful time in Holland. Say hi to Leah from me.” Aunt Mary waved from the doorway.

  Amanda hung onto the picture of the great-uncle she never got to meet, wondering what he would have been like.

  ***

  Amanda Ross peered up at the tall, colourful houses as she stepped off the curb. The scalloped roofs pierced the sky, making her feel shorter than usual. She didn’t notice the bicycle until it was too late.

  The woman cyclist swerved to miss her. The bike clattered against the railing. An avalanche of vibrant tulips tumbled from the basket, landing at Amanda’s feet.

  “Dombo!” shouted the woman.

  “I’m so sorry.” Amanda dropped to her knees and frantically picked up flowers. She held up a white one with red stripes. “This one is so pretty.”

  “It is called the Canadian tulip. It was created for the one hundred and fiftieth anniversary of Canada.”

  “Really? I’m from Canada.”

  “That is very nice, but you really must watch when you cross the street here in Amsterdam. There are many bicycles.”

  “I am so sorry about that. I’ll be more watchful from now on.” Amanda lowered a large handful of colourful tulips into the basket attached to the front of the woman’s bike.

  Something moved at the bottom of the basket.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo: K. Cullen

  Brought up on a ranch in southern Alberta, Darlene Foster dreamt of writing, travelling the world and meeting interesting people. She also believes everyone is capable of making their dreams come true. It’s no surprise that she’s now the award-winning author of a children’s adventure series about a travelling twelve-year-old girl.

  A world-traveller herself, Darlene spends her time in Vancouver, Canada and Costa Blanca in Spain with her husband and her amusing dog, Dot.

  web: darlenefoster.ca

  twitter: @supermegawoman