by Kelly Jones
“You’ve been a ghost for a long time,” Eli said. “Is there anything you can think of that will prove you exist?”
Oma floated there for a minute. “Perhaps one thing,” she said at last. “But it might scare you.”
“Is it dangerous?” I asked her.
“No, not dangerous. Just…surprising.”
“She says there’s something she can try, but it might surprise you, maybe even scare you,” I told Eli. “She says it’s not dangerous, though. What do you think?”
Eli looked nervous. But he lifted his chin up, and said, “Let’s do it.”
The ghost came right up in front of me, so close the whole room looked blurry through her thick air, so close that all I could smell was that sweetness. “Hans Dieter, I’m going to lift you up into the air. Are you ready?”
I lifted my chin up too. “Ready,” I told her, and held my breath.
The ghost reached her blurry arms around me. I could feel something soft, something not-quite-there around my chest. I felt her tug me upward—
And then she stopped, and grunted. “You are a big boy, Hans Dieter.”
“Well, yeah, I’m twelve, not some little kid,” I told her. But I was positive I’d felt that. “Okay, try moving my hair instead.”
I stood very still, and ghostly hands wiggled my locs.
Eli’s eyes were huge. “Whoa.”
“Did you see that?” I asked Eli, grinning. “Great work, Oma!”
Eli scribbled frantically. “Your hair moved, all right! We’ve got to test this.”
After we confirmed that yes, my great-great-grandma could hear him just fine, even if he couldn’t hear her, Eli designed another experiment.
EXPERIMENT: CHECK TO SEE IF MRS. S. IS REAL
Researcher: Eli Callahan
Test #1: Ask Mrs. S. to lift the glass of water up in the air while HD stands at the bottom of the stairs.
Do you see anything? Yes, it fell over and spilled!
Test #2: Ask Mrs. S. to lift the glass up in the air while HD stands at the top of the basement stairs.
Do you see anything? Yes, some paper towels floated off of the workbench and cleaned up the water! Then they floated into the trash!
Test #3: Ask HD to go in the kitchen in case he’s doing it somehow, without his knowledge. Then ask Mrs. S. to lift the hockey stick.
Do you see anything? Yes, the hockey stick wiggled a little and fell over!
Test #4: Ask Mrs. S. to lift HD’s backpack while HD still waits in the kitchen.
Do you see anything? Yes! My pencil wrote: “Hans Dieter’s backpack looks heavy, and I am tired” on my experiment sheet!
When I came back downstairs, Eli stopped making notes and looked at me. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you yesterday. And I’m sorry I got mad and didn’t let you explain. That wasn’t a very scientific thing to do.”
“Apology accepted,” I told him, smiling. “Thanks for helping me today.”
“No problem,” Eli said. “So, now what do we do?”
“We make the sauerkraut,” the ghost told us.
I sighed. “Oma wants to teach me how to make sauerkraut.”
“How do you make sauerkraut?” Eli asked the hockey stick.
“I will tell you how!” The ghost grabbed the pencil out of his hand and started writing down instructions.
Eli was carefully reading what the ghost was writing, sounding it out under his breath, so I was quiet and let him concentrate.
How to Make Sauerkraut
You will need five clean cabbages, some juniper berries, and a big box of pickling salt. You will also need a kraut cutter, a pickling crock, and a kraut pounder.
Set aside the outer leaves of the cabbages.
Slice the cabbages with the kraut cutter.
Mix some of the sliced cabbage with some of the juniper berries and some of the salt inside the pickling crock.
Pound the cabbage until it releases its juices.
Add and mix more sliced cabbage, juniper berries, and salt.
Pound again.
Continue until the crock is almost full.
Put cabbage leaves on top of the sliced cabbage in a thick layer.
Put the lid on the crock.
Fill the rim of the crock with water.
Wait 2–3 weeks, or until the sauerkraut is done.
I went over to the crock and examined it. It was bigger than my backpack. “That’s going to be a lot of sauerkraut,” I said.
“Yes, yes,” Oma said, putting the pencil down and nodding the top part of her thick air. She seemed much happier now.
“What’s a kraut cutter?” Eli asked.
Oma floated over and starting trying to yank something out of a box as though she’d been waiting fifty years for someone to ask that. (I guess maybe she had.)
“How do we know when it’s done?” I asked.
“By the taste. When it is the best sauerkraut you have ever eaten, it is done.”
“But I don’t know what sauerkraut tastes like,” I said.
“Then we will taste it together.” She pulled harder at the cutter.
I explained all this to Eli. “I don’t know if she can actually taste anything, though,” I whispered, trying not to be rude.
Eli immediately turned to where the kraut cutter was moving. “Mrs. S., seeing as how you’re a ghost, can you taste the sauerkraut?”
Oma’s thick air froze in place. Very slowly she looked down at the kraut cutter.
“I think she’s going to have to think about that,” I whispered to Eli.
“That’s fine,” Eli said. “I have to get home anyhow.”
“Me too,” I said. “Oma, we have to go, but we’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”
The ghost nodded. “Tomorrow, we can begin the sauerkraut!” she said.
I meant to tell my parents about Oma that night.
But first I had to take care of the goats. Then Mom wanted to know if Eli and I were still fighting, and after I told her we were done with that, she told me to go get my room ready for inspection. I cleaned things up and blew up the air mattress and got my sleeping bag and spare pillow all set up for Eli, and I passed Dad’s inspection just fine. But then Asad had another tantrum about ice cream, all through dinner. Honestly, it was kind of a miracle we picked Eli and his mom up on time.
When we got home from waving goodbye to Eli’s mom at the airport, it was pretty late, and my parents decided it was time for Eli to get settled, and for us all to get some rest (especially Asad). So I decided to wait to mention the ghost until I’d done more research.
Eli and I had a look through the books I’d gotten from the library.
“Maybe she’s looking for one of her body parts,” Eli said. “The guy in this one wants his toe back.” He passed the book over to me.
“She’s been dead for years,” I told him. “Body parts don’t last that long.”
“Bones do,” Eli said. “Maybe her toe turned into a fossil.”
I skimmed the story. “Yeah, but look, all this ghost talks about his toe, and all Oma talks about is sauerkraut.”
“Maybe somebody stole her sauerkraut!” Eli said.
“Food doesn’t last that long either,” I said, giving him back the book.
“Fair point,” Eli said. “What about yours?”
“Well, this one has a turnip field, but the guy that comes out of it doesn’t want to cook the turnips or anything. And I’m not even sure he’s a ghost. He could be a zombie.” I sighed. “I’m not sure this writer did enough research.”
“Maybe we need different books,” Eli said.
“Or a different writer.” I told Eli about
Ms. Stevermer, the writer I met. “She said that sometimes ghosts stay until their Grand Purpose is completed.”
Eli was looking through his book again. “Like if her body isn’t buried in the cemetery where she wanted it?”
“How would I know where she’s buried?” I asked.
“Well, we might need to improvise,” Eli said. “Maybe we could ask that writer.”
I shrugged. “We have to take the goats to see Mr. Z. tomorrow anyway. Maybe she’ll be there again.”
“We should take the ghost to visit Mr. Z. too. We can ask him if he knows what sauerkraut tastes like,” Eli said.
I thought about it. “Uncle Gregor’s house is kind of on the way….We can ask Oma if she wants to come along, I guess. Then, if the writer is there, she can meet Oma too.”
“Right! And after that, we can start setting up the Greatest Of All Time Obstacle Course!” Eli said. “Get it? It’s the GOAT Obstacle Course—for goats!”
I grinned. Setting up an obstacle course in Uncle Gregor’s backyard and training the goats to go through it was the very first thing on our list of fun things to do this summer.
I was really glad Eli and I were friends again.
* * *
The next morning, the goats were feeling playful, so it took a while to get them ready (although at least nobody pooped in the salt this time). They were pretty excited when we unclipped their leashes and let them run around Uncle Gregor’s backyard too.
Eli followed me down into the basement.
“Hallo, Oma,” I said. “Eli and I were wondering if you wanted to come with us to visit my friend Mr. Z. He has a friend who collects stories about ghosts.”
“And he might be able to help us taste the sauerkraut too,” Eli said. “We’re going to ask him if he’s had it before.”
Oma floated up out of her crock and over to us. “Today, we will begin the sauerkraut!”
“Also, we were wondering something,” Eli went on. “We don’t know where your body is, or if it’s where you want it, but maybe we could bury your crock?”
It’s pretty hard to tell if thick air is giving your friend a look or not. But I thought she was.
“Maybe that would help,” Eli said.
“Sometimes I put the sauerkraut in my root cellar over the summer, to keep it cool,” Oma said.
“Um, right,” I said. The trouble with trying to be polite was that I wasn’t too sure what kinds of stuff you weren’t supposed to talk about with ghosts. “But don’t you want to, you know, move on?”
“Move? Move where?” The ghost sounded surprised.
“Not move, exactly—move on. We thought maybe we could bury your crock in the cemetery and give you some peace or something,” I explained.
She got very stern. “Young man, you cannot bury sauerkraut in a cemetery.”
“No, ma’am,” I agreed at once. “But…I don’t know how to make sauerkraut.”
“Not yet,” she agreed, and this time I was sure she was nodding. “But I will teach you.”
I turned to Eli. “Nope, she just wants to make sauerkraut with us.”
“Yes! We can begin immediately!” Oma said.
“Well, no, not quite yet,” I said. “First we have to take Mr. Z.’s goats to visit him, and maybe get some more information from his friend. You can come with us, or stay here, your choice.”
She drooped a little. “I cannot leave my crock.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“I do not know,” she said. “When I moved into my crock, my son put it into a box, and took it up to the attic, and left me there, even when I asked him not to. Everything was dark, for a long time. I tried and tried to leave, but I could not.”
I explained all this to Eli.
“How did you escape from the attic?” he asked.
“One day, the box moved, and I went with it. When the box stopped moving, I was in a different attic, but still I could not leave.” She sighed. “Many years later, I moved again, to here.”
“Sounds like she came here with the crock when Uncle Gregor brought all of Grandma Schenk’s stuff back,” I told Eli. “I’m sorry, Oma. That sounds lonely.”
“Sometimes I would turn on the radio….” She floated over to the old radio on Uncle Gregor’s workbench. “I would sing along, and hear what was happening in the world. But, in time, the batteries wore out, and everything was silent again.”
Well, that explained why Uncle Gregor said they didn’t make radios like they used to.
“We could bring your crock with us, if you want to come,” I told her. It would look weird, but she seemed ready for a change.
She got very still. “You must be very careful with the crock. If it breaks, we will not be able to make sauerkraut.”
“What if we figure out some transportation, and you can decide if it looks safe or not?” I asked.
“Thank you, Hans Dieter!” She swooped at me and pecked me on the cheek again.
I didn’t flinch too much this time. In fact, it was kind of nice.
So we built a safety harness for the crock from an old hammock, to keep it from bouncing out of the rusty wagon we found, and wedged in some old towels so it wouldn’t tip over.
Oma decided it looked safe enough to travel in, so Eli and I carried the wagon up out of the basement. Then I went back for the crock while Eli tried to convince the goats to let him put their leashes back on.
I wedged the crock in the wagon with the towels, covered it up with the hammock, and tied it down all around with some string and a knot I learned from my mom, who learned it from one of her friends in the navy. (Mom says the army is still best, of course, but those sailors do know some good knots.)
Then we set off for Maple Falls, with me pulling the wagon, and Eli walking the goats, and both of us trying to keep the goats from hopping into the wagon.
I thought Oma was ready to see the world, but after a few swoops, she dove back into her crock and stayed quiet. But it was nice to get to talk to Eli about the obstacle course instead of hearing more about sauerkraut.
When we got to Maple Falls, Mr. Z. was sitting by himself in the front garden.
“Hallo, Mr. Z.,” I said.
“Hallo, HD. Hallo, Eli,” Mr. Z. said, folding his newspaper. “Thank you for bringing my boys to see me.” He scratched Rodgers on the chin and patted Hammerstein’s head. (Mr. Z. doesn’t usually speak much German when Eli is there, since Eli doesn’t know German.)
“Hi, Mr. Z.,” said Eli. “We brought someone to meet you.”
Mr. Z. looked at the crock in the wagon. “Have you been frog-catching?” He handed each of the goats a carrot stick.
“Uh, no,” I said, watching the ghost rise slowly from the crock. “Mr. Z., this is my great-great-grandma, Mrs. Marietta Schenk.” Her ghostly air didn’t look as thick as it had, but maybe that was because of the sunlight. “Oma, this is my friend Mr. Ziedrich.”
“She’s a ghost, so I can’t see her or hear her. But HD can,” Eli said helpfully.
Mr. Z. looked at me, his smile fading. Then slowly he looked at the crock.
“I didn’t believe in her at first either,” Eli said. “I mean, I believed that HD thought he saw her, but there wasn’t any evidence that she was really there. But it turns out she can write with a pencil. Here, I’ll get it.” Eli dug his notebook and pencil out from under the hammock in the wagon. “Sorry, Mrs. S.—the point got a little broken. But it should still write.” He held it up.
Oma floated up out of the crock and over to Eli. Her air-hand moved close to his….But then she sank back down into the crock, without the pencil.
“Oma, are you feeling okay?” I asked, bending over the crock. I could barely see her air. “Are you going to move on now or something?” It was strange. I mean, I’d only just met her, and she’d been dead a lon
g time—she probably wanted to move on. So I don’t know why I felt like I had a big lump in my throat.
“Wait, Mrs. S.—we still have a lot of experiments to do!” said Eli.
“Um, boys…,” Mr. Z. said.
“Hang on a minute, Mr. Z.,” I said. Her air wasn’t getting any thinner, but it wasn’t getting any thicker either. And either she wasn’t talking or I couldn’t hear what she was saying anymore. “Oma, what’s happening?” I grabbed the pencil from Eli and dropped it into her crock.
Her thick air shivered a little, but the pencil didn’t move.
Eli frowned. “Maybe we shouldn’t have taken her out for a ride.”
“I don’t think she’s getting worse,” I said, not taking my eyes off of the ghost. “But I think something’s wrong with her. We’d better take her back.”
“Do you boys need help?” Mr. Z. asked.
“Well, we need your help making Mrs. S.’s sauerkraut, since we have to wait until it tastes right, and Mrs. S. doesn’t have taste buds in her current state,” Eli explained. “Unless she levels up today and moves on.”
Mr. Z. looked bewildered. “Sauerkraut?”
“Yeah, she really wants to make it,” Eli said. “Here, you can see our notes.” He handed his notebook to Mr. Z.
Mr. Z. reviewed the pages, looking hard at Oma’s sauerkraut recipe. “I see,” he said at last. He examined the crock, and our faces, and nodded. “Then we will go at once, in the Maple Falls van.”
“What about Rodgers and Hammerstein?” Eli asked.
“They will ride in the van with us,” Mr. Z. said.
“Uh, Mr. Z., that van has carpet,” I said. “You can’t just hose it out. Maybe we should walk back instead.”
Mr. Z. raised an eyebrow. “HD, I pay these people a lot of money, and they told me when I moved here I could use the van. Now, your…relative…needs our help. We will take the van.”