The Ghost and Mrs. Hobbs (15 page)

Allie tried to shake herself free of the spell that Mrs. Hobbs's terrible story had cast over her. She felt almost overwhelmed by sorrow and pity and horror. At that moment she wanted more than anything to run from that strange, sad house and never come back. But how could she just walk away? She felt she should speak to Mrs. Hobbs about what had happened, yet she had no idea what to say. If there were words suitable for the situation in which they found themselves, Allie didn't know what they were.

The silence stretched on. Finally, Mrs. Hobbs turned to look first at Allie, then at Dub, then back at Allie. “Who would ever believe what just happened?” she murmured hoarsely. “I can hardly take it in myself.”

Allie merely nodded. She knew very well the feeling of being part of something that the rest of the world could barely imagine, let alone accept as true. She thought about what Mrs. Hobbs had said. “No one would believe it,” she answered slowly. “And what good would it do to tell anyone, anyway?”

Dub and Mrs. Hobbs both looked at her, waiting for her to go on.

“Maybe,” she said, thinking as she spoke, “we should keep John Walker's secret. We could . . . lay it to rest . . . along with his ghost.”

A glimmer of surprise, and hope, passed over Mrs. Hobbs's face. Almost fearfully, she asked, “Could we really do that?”

Allie looked at Dub, who said solemnly, “I think it would be the best thing for everybody.”

Mrs. Hobbs seemed to think it over, then nodded in agreement. “Thank you,” she said simply.

There didn't seem to be anything else to say. Allie met Dub's eyes. It was time to go. They began walking toward the door. Allie turned back to say softly, “We'll see you at school tomorrow.”

It hung like a question in the air, and for a moment Allie was afraid there would be no answer.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Hobbs at last, and Allie heard a hint of something like happiness in her voice. “I'll see you at school.” A flash of apprehension crossed her face. “Unless Ms. Gillespie . . .” Her words trailed off, and Allie immediately knew what she was thinking.

“Don't worry,” Allie said quickly. “I'll explain that it was all a misunderstanding.” She thought for a moment, then added, “Oh, and, Mrs. Hobbs? I've decided to interview my grandmother for Elders Day.” She paused. “So
your
secrets will be safe, too.”

Allie and Dub walked across Mrs. Hobbs's lawn to their bikes. There was so much to say that Allie didn't know where to begin, so she just asked, “To Mr. Henry's house?” Dub nodded, and they rode along in silence, both deep in thought about what they had just witnessed.

When they pulled into Mr. Henry's driveway and around to the back door, Allie said, “This will be the true test.”

“You mean Hoover will be able to tell if Walker's really dead? Or whatever you call it when a ghost croaks?”

“Yeah.”

“From what I saw and heard, I don't think you've got anything to worry about,” Dub replied.

He started toward the door, but Allie held on to his arm to stop him. “Dub,” she said, “thanks for going over there with me.”

“No problem,” Dub answered. “I'm glad I went. For the few seconds when I wasn't scared out of my wits, it was pretty interesting.”

“Talk about scared! Just be glad you couldn't see Walker! Although I bet it was awful not being able to see or hear, and just having to
imagine
what was going on.”

“You got that right,” said Dub.

“Anyway, Dub, I feel really stupid about that fight we had. Or whatever it was.”

“Forget it.”

“All right, but there's one thing I want to say first, okay? If you want to be friends with Pam, it's all right. She's nice. I was just, well, jealous, I guess.”

“Well, as long as we're having true confessions, how about me?” Dub said. “I was jealous of a
ghost
.”

They both giggled. “But it isn't funny, really,” Allie said with a shudder, “when you think about it. Walker did those horrible things all because he couldn't stand it that Mrs. Hobbs married somebody else.”

“It's sickening,” said Dub. “If you ever catch me acting jealous again, just call me John. I promise I'll snap right out of it.”

Allie held out her hand for a high-five. “It's a deal.”

“Well,” said Dub, pointing to the door. “Shall we go in and see if you earn the Hoover Seal of Approval?”

“Okay,” said Allie, more confidently than she felt. It wasn't easy to forget the sight of Hoover growling at her, teeth bared, hackles raised in fear.

She reached under the flowerpot for the key, but before putting it in the lock she said, “Dub? I wonder . . . how come we both acted so weird.”

Dub, who ordinarily had an answer for everything, was silent. If Allie wasn't mistaken, she saw a faint blush color his neck. That gave her the courage to say, “I think I got so jealous because I thought you liked Pam better. Liked her, you know, for a girlfriend.”

“Are you serious?” asked Dub, looking surprised. “She's nice, but no way.”

Allie went on, feeling—she couldn't believe it—
shy
in front of Dub. “But why did it bug me so much? It's not like
I'm
your girlfriend.” She paused and added, “Right?”

As soon as she had spoken, she wished she could snatch the words back. What if Dub looked at her as if she were crazy and said again, “No way!” She'd feel like a complete idiot.

Dub's blush crept from his neck to his face. “Who said you're not?”

Allie laughed happily. “Nobody,” she said.

They stood grinning at each other for a moment. Then Allie turned to the door and opened it. Glancing back at Dub, she said, “Ready?”

“Go for it.”

Allie stepped into the kitchen, followed by Dub. “Hoover?” she called. She crossed her fingers and looked at Dub hopefully as they listened to the thump of Hoover's footsteps on the floor overhead, then the click of her toenails as she descended the stairs. She burst into the kitchen with her head high, her tail wagging, and her mouth open in a doggy grin.

“Hoover!” Allie exclaimed joyfully. “Come here, girl!”

She fell to her knees so she could rub Hoover's soft ears and bury her face in the big dog's warm, sweet-smelling fur. “You were way smarter than I was, Hoovey,” she said. “Next time I suspect there's a ghost around, I'm coming straight to you to check it out!”

“I don't see how you can even
think
about another ghost,” said Dub. “If I were you, I'd be sending out vibes saying, ‘This ghost magnet is out of business.' ”

“Believe me,” said Allie, stroking Hoover's big,
shaggy head, “I'm in no hurry to meet another John Walker. All I'm saying is, if there
is
a next time, I'm not going to be so . . .” She paused, searching for the right word. “Gullible,” she said finally.

Dub looked at her, a serious expression on his face. “Did you know
gullible
is the only word that isn't in the dictionary?”

“Really?” Allie asked. Then she caught herself. “You rat,” she said, giving Dub a playful swat.

Dub was cracking up. “Almost got you,” he said gleefully.

“Almost,” Allie said. “See? I'm learning.” She got up and began pouring dog food into Hoover's dish.

“What about Mike?” Dub asked. “What if he sees another ghost?”

“I'm going to tell him that if he ever sees somebody who looks ‘funny' the way the ‘nice' man did, he should tell me about it. That way, the next ghost—”

“If there is a next ghost,” Dub added.

“—will have not only Mike, but you, and me, and Hoover, and Mrs. Hobbs to contend with,” Allie finished, feeling pleased with the idea. “And by now, the spook world ought to know better than to mess with us!”

Dub and Allie watched Hoover as she crunched away at her dinner. “Hey!” said Dub suddenly.
“You're really going to interview your grandmother, then?”

“Yeah, I guess. Karen will say I chickened out, but so what?” Allie shrugged. “After everything that's happened, it's hard to imagine letting Karen Laver bother me ever again.”

“I know what you mean,” Dub agreed. Then he offered a wicked grin. “And about Elders Day, don't forget”—he raised his voice and finished at the top of his lungs—“
you can always interview Louie Howell.
”

“For Pete's sake, Dub, you'll wake the dead!” exclaimed Allie. She smiled and added, “We wouldn't want to do that now, would we?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CYNTHIA DEFELICE

What did you want to be when you grew up?

Happy. That was it. No further ambitions.

When did you realize you wanted to be a writer?

Not until I was 36. Talk about late bloomers! I was working as a school librarian, which I loved, when I suddenly KNEW I wanted to try to write the kinds of books I loved sharing with my students.

What's your first childhood memory?

I was playing down in the cellar window hole of our house (don't ask me why) and I poked my head up out of the hole into the sunshine. There were buttercups growing nearby and they were very yellow in the sun. I had the clear thought that I was me, a unique person, and that I was part of the world. I was very young, probably four. I don't think I had words then for the feeling I had, but I felt its meaning very strongly.

What's your most embarrassing childhood memory?

Oooh, lots of those! And the worst part was, I couldn't hide it. My face turned beet red—a dead giveaway every time.

What's your favorite childhood memory?

Fishing and acting as first mate on Captain Hank Garback's charter boat with my brothers.

As a young person, who did you look up to most?

My dad, who was a good listener and very understanding.

What was your worst subject in school?

Math. Shudder. I still have math anxiety.

What was your best subject in school?

Surprise—English!

What was your first job?

Working in a bookstore in high school.

How did you celebrate publishing your first book?

Oh, I worked the celebrating to death! We celebrated the acceptance phone call. Then the contract. Then the advance check. The first galleys. The first review. Publication. And on and on. Champagne, ice cream, you name it!

Where do you write your books?

In my office, second floor of my house on Seneca Lake. I am deeply attached to my office and find it difficult to write anywhere else.

Which of your characters is most like you?

Allie Nichols, except that she is much braver, smarter, and cooler than I ever was!

When you finish a book, who reads it first?

My husband. He's a good critic. And I love getting the male point of view.

Are you a morning person or a night owl?

I'm a morning person for sure. I go to bed pathetically early.

What's your idea of the best meal ever?

Shrimp or fish pulled fresh from the ocean and cooked right then on the grill on the boat.

Which do you like better: cats or dogs?

No contest: dogs. I really enjoyed writing about Hoover, Mr. Henry's golden retriever, in the books about Allie Nichols. Look for Josie, a dog character in my novel
Signal
. There's also a dog in the novel I'm working on now!

What do you value most in your friends?

Humor, brains, and honesty.

Who is your favorite fictional character?