Spooky Little Girl (19 page)

The doorbell rang again, and this time, Tulip got up and went to the door, then rang out her own small but determined bark.

“Oh, just go away,” Lucy whispered at the unwanted intruder, who was now effectively bothering her.

But Lucy’s wishes were of no consequence to the visitor, who then decided that since ringing the doorbell was not effective, banging on the front door just might be. This, however, dully irritated Tulip, whose small bark generated to much louder on the second round.

“Oh, come on!” a voice called out sternly. “I know you are in there! Open this damn door! Open it now!”

Lucy panicked. They must have seen her. She hoped it wasn’t a neighbor, or relative, or someone that had mistaken her for Nola. The mere thought made Lucy shiver. She shrank down even farther behind the couch, trying to mold herself into a neat little invisible ball.

“All right, that’s it!” the voice outside warned. “I’m coming in!”

Oh, no
, Lucy thought.
Shit. This is someone with a key, and there is no place I can go where they won’t see me. I’m at almost a full charge and I don’t know how to drain! How do I drain? How do I become, at the very least, transparent or wisps of smoke?

“Lucy!” the voice called, shocking her and sucking in all of her attention. “We’re coming in!”

And right through the front door marched Ruby Spicer, complete with her heavy, dark monkish robe, and by the looks of things, she had brought some friends.

“Lucy?” Ruby called out after she had marched right through the front door and into the living room, a collection of figures behind her on the other side of the door. “LUCY! I don’t have time to play games, you know!”

“Ruby?” Lucy called excitedly as she rolled out from behind the couch and scrambled to her feet. “Wow! I am so happy to see you! Did you come to get me? I knew there had been a mistake! Am I going to Alice’s now?”

Ruby laughed a little and shook her head. “I have a bigger surprise than that,” she said, and then motioned behind her.
“Come on in!”

Lucy watched in amazement as three figures took several steps, passing right through the front door, and stood alongside Ruby. On her right was a tall, lanky man of indeterminate age who slumped slightly at the shoulders; next to him was a dour-looking woman wearing a black Victorian dress complete with bustle, her hair pulled
tightly back into a bun; and on the other side of Ruby was a smaller figure, clad in what Lucy could clearly recognize as the same Ethereal White Lady gown that Bethanny had chosen. She was a tiny, wrinkled old lady with short, cropped white hair. She had deep creases around her eyes, which looked kind but also twinkled with just a touch of fire. These were eyes that Lucy knew, and that Lucy loved.

“Naunie!” Lucy gasped as she rushed to the old woman, scooping all of her white lady finery up into her arms. Naunie responded with a firm, taut hug that signaled just how long-awaited the reunion was.

“Lucy,” her grandmother whispered in her ear. “Oh, Lucy!”

“Oh, I missed you!” Lucy whispered back. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in The State?”

“Well,” Lucy’s grandmother said as she pulled out of the hug and took a long, earnest look at her granddaughter. “You know, that’s a long story.”

“No, it’s not,” the tall, lanky man said, looking a little perturbed.

“Mind your own business, Howe,” Naunie said, shooting him a dirty look. “You don’t know everything.”

“Howe?” Lucy asked. “My Uncle Howe? I know who you are! You died in that combine accident when I was a little kid!”

Uncle Howe’s face melted into a huge, wide, nearly proud grin. “Why, yes, I did,” he said sheepishly. “Chopped me up like egg salad.”

“Well, when you stick your idiot hand up into those mowers, what do you think is gonna happen?” Naunie confirmed.

“Am I related to you, too?” Lucy asked the stern-looking Victorian woman. “Are you my great-great-great-grandmother? This is so exciting! It’s like being a Mormon but without ruffles and tithing!”

“No,” Naunie answered quite flatly. “She is not a Fisher. Her name is Geneva Franks. I don’t even know why she’s here. She needs to mind her own business, too.”

“That is a blatant lie, Clovis,” Geneva Franks staunchly replied, boring angry eyes into Naunie. “You have endangered the status of my eternal existence. That is every bit my business.”

“A little push wouldn’t kill you!” Naunie shot back, not minding her manners at all. “You’ve been stuck in the same rut since before Abraham Lincoln died!”

“Clovie,” Ruby sternly interrupted. “Is this necessary? Is it? I have a fresh batch of Surprise Demisers attending their funerals today. We need to get this thing settled up and figured out now. Time is of the essence.”

“She’s an interloper!” Naunie shot back. “She and Howe just want that house for themselves! Three’s a crowd, I’m telling you. Three is definitely a crowd, and now because these two have eyes for each other, I’m getting kicked out of my own house!”

“It was my house
first,”
Geneva asserted firmly.

“I’m very confused,” Lucy said, trying to make sense of the bickering. “I don’t think I understand what’s going on. What are we settling?”

“Clovie has been reassigned,” Ruby tried to explain. “There was an incident at the farmhouse, and Howe and Geneva feel it is urgent that we remove her from the situation.”

“It was more than one incident,” Geneva commented.

“And I wouldn’t call them ‘incidents,’” Howe chimed in. “They were more like the final scenes from horror movies.”

Naunie scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“They were destroying my house,” she retorted as she threw her tiny gauzy arms up. “What did you expect me to do? They were ripping out my pink toilet! Do you know how much I paid for that?”

“My house was the first in the county to have indoor plumbing,” Geneva reminded Naunie. “And I didn’t go berserk when you
pulled out that cast-iron claw-foot bathtub, threw it away, and replaced it with that terrible pink atrocity!”

“You had a hundred years with that rusted old hulk of metal,” Naunie argued. “My toilet was beautiful, sleek, and modern!”

“Sure, it was modern,” Howe agreed. “In 1956! I kind of liked the toilet they were putting in. It looked like someplace you could sit awhile, relax.”

“Okay,” Lucy interrupted. “Let me get this straight—the people who live in the farmhouse now—”

“The people
you
sold it to,” Naunie interjected, “are very busy destroying it.”

“They’re remodeling,” Ruby explained. “And Clovie was very upset at losing her pink toilet.”

“All this fuss over a
chamber pot,”
Geneva said, giving Naunie a look of disgust. “And you say
I’m
in a rut!”

“Either way, she went a little overboard in expressing her opinion of the new bathroom,” Ruby went on. “To the point where professionals have been called in.”

“Professional remodelers?” Lucy questioned.

“No,” Ruby said quickly. “Professional presence house cleaners. As in cleaning out the spirits that may be lingering around.”

“You are all making a big deal out of nothing,” Naunie objected. “So I did a little spooking, big deal. They took my pink toilet and sink out and threw them away, like they were trash! They ripped out my brand-new brown carpet and took down the gold drapes. Of course I’m upset!”

“That brown carpet wasn’t new, Naunie. I learned to crawl on it,” Lucy reminded her.

“And now you know how I felt when you pulled out my cast-iron claw-foot bathtub and replaced it with a nozzle that spits water out of the wall, and covered up my wood floors with that dusty carpet,”
Geneva added. “But did I ever hiss in your ear in the middle of the night? Did I ever open and close the door to the bathroom when the living were in there having their private time? NO, I did not, and I’ve existed with your decorating for half a century now. And I will not get pulled into the white light because of you, Clovis Fisher. I will not.”

“Maybe if you had hissed in my ear you wouldn’t have been stuck in that old farmhouse for all of eternity,” Naunie shot back. “Maybe if you would have been the least bit active, you could have met your objective and been sewing a quilt or churning butter or milking a dead cow or whatever nineteenth-century farm women do in The State. I may be getting kicked out of my own house, but at least I was a real ghost!”

“You mind your own business!” Geneva said, pointing a cross finger at Naunie. “You don’t know anything about that. One minute I was dead, and then the next thing I knew, it was 1918 and everyone else in the house got the flu and died, and I was out of an objective! I was stuck and lonely until Howe came, and now we’re getting along just fine, thank you!”

“I’ve only been here for a matter of days and I’m already bored beyond belief,” Lucy admitted. “I don’t know how you roamed around alone for all those years. You were both in the house the whole time I was growing up. Why haven’t you moved on, Uncle Howe? Why aren’t you in The State by now?”

“Well, I’m just kind of used to it now, I guess,” he answered. “Besides, it hasn’t been that long.”

“You’ve been dead for twenty-plus years,” Lucy informed him.

He shook his head and laughed at her. “Are you sure?” her uncle questioned. “It doesn’t feel that long. Nah, feels like a couple of months! Twenty years! Who’re you foolin’?”

“Well,” Lucy said with a shrug, “it’s been long enough for me
to grow up, get a job, almost get married, and then get smashed by a bus.”

Uncle Howe thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Even if it has been that long, I’m good where I am,” he decided. “I know where I am, and if I moved on, I wouldn’t know where I was going. Clovie was in The State, but that sure didn’t last long.”

“Really?” Lucy exclaimed, turning back to Naunie. “You were there? What was it like? What did you do? Why didn’t you stay?”

Lucy’s grandmother sort of shrugged and then looked away.

“Sometimes, things don’t take, not even in The State, and they need to be readjusted,” Ruby began to explain. “Clovie was slotted for The State, and did stay there for a while until she was reassigned. The first time. And that’s how I met Clovie, and how she came to be in my class.”

“Naunie was your student?” Lucy asked excitedly. “Really? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Oh, I had no idea,” Ruby answered. “I get very little history on my students. Name, cause of death, and just how freshly they have expired. I really don’t need much more than that.”

“Naunie, what was The State like?” Lucy asked again. “Why didn’t you stay?”

“Hell if I know. They zapped me,” the old lady said, slapping the top of her head. “I don’t remember a thing.”

“I have a feeling I’m not getting the whole story here,” Lucy said to everyone. “Who can tell me what happened? Was she sent there by mistake, was her place not ready, what?”

Naunie didn’t say a word, just looked around the room as if no one was talking to her.

This continued for several long, silly seconds until Ruby jumped in.

“Clovie was expunged. There are several rules of conduct in
The State—there have to be to ensure its status and quality of being. They are minor, simple issues, and typically, there is never a problem and people abide by the guidelines. However, there was an issue Clovie had difficulty with.”

“She tried to slaughter one of the ark animals, didn’t she?” Lucy guessed.

“No,” Ruby replied.

“Did she complain that the harp music was too loud and flowery?”

“No,” Ruby said again.

“Did she blow her nose on one of her Ethereal White Lady sleeves?” Lucy took another shot.

“Repeatedly, but everyone tried to ignore that,” Ruby answered. “The issue was regarding a disturbance.”

“A what?” Lucy asked Naunie. “What kind of disturbance? Who did you disturb?”

“Who
didn’t
she disturb was more like it,” Uncle Howe commented, to which Geneva simply shook her sorrowful head. “People were hiding from her.”

“People were
not
hiding from me!” Naunie objected. “How can you say such a thing?”

“Frank Sinatra!” Uncle Howe yelled. “Frank Sinatra was hiding from you. You wouldn’t leave the man alone! We read it in the report when you got shipped back to us! Asking that man to sing ‘The Lady Is a Tramp’ over and over again. The man had no choice but to hide. And poor Steve McQueen, constantly begging him to take you for a ride on his motorcycle. That is shameful, Clovie, just shameful! People have their deaths to live, you know.”

“Don’t act so surprised!” Naunie countered. “You saw
The Great Escape
! He just looked so … so damn
salty!
I just wanted to grab that boy and hold on tight!”

“I can’t believe you stalked Frank Sinatra and Steve McQueen to the point that you got expelled from all eternity,” Lucy said.

“Oh, no,” Uncle Howe continued. “That’s not what got her the boot. When she got wind that Paul Newman was coming to town, so to speak, she lost her mind and decided she was going to be the first one to greet him. The very second that poor man stepped foot into The State, what did your grandmother do?”

“I’m afraid to ask,” Lucy said quietly.

“She screamed, ‘Take your shirt off, lie down, and I’ll feed you fifty eggs!’” Geneva finished. “I don’t even know who Paul Newman is, but that is not a siren’s call I think anyone’s ears would welcome.”

“I’m not ashamed.” Naunie shrugged. “I have a thing for blue eyes.”

“So,” Ruby picked up, “Clovie was relegated back to ghost status and was placed back at her farmhouse, but as you can tell, things have not been going very well over there and we have reached a crisis point. To avoid a white light situation, it’s been decided that she should be relocated here, with you.”

“That’s wonderful,” Lucy cried, and embraced Naunie. “I’m so happy you’ll be haunting with me.”

“You two,” Ruby said, wiggling her finger back and forth between them, “had better take care. And watch yourselves. Do you remember, Lucy, when you kicked the chair and I told you I had only seen one other ghost do that without extensive training?”