Little Ghosts

Amy threw back her head and laughed.

“Look at you,” she said. “You’re happy!”

“I suppose I am,” I said, and gave a twirl before she could ask.

She clapped her hands together, and stood up from her chair. She grimaced ever so slightly at the weight shifting to her knees, immediately smiling wider to hide the moment of pain.

The light in that house was warm and dim, the furnishings (of her choosing) dark wood and earthy textiles. It fit her, this house, filled out her thin figure and made the gray in her hair grandmotherly.

“Let’s dance,” she said, and slid a delicate arm around my waist, grasped my hand in hers.

“A dance before dancing?” I teased, already falling into her gentle rhythm.

“And after dancing, and always.”

As we swayed and spun in the quiet night, the old cat Maggie jumped up on the sill to peer out the window. I thought she was looking for the neighbor’s tomcat; Amy wondered if she could see the ghosts in the church graveyard.

“I saw one, just the other night,” she said, as casually as anything.

“Oh, yeah?”

I never did know what to think of her otherworldly encounters.

“I was coming back from the grocery store with that bottle wine and some olives, and I decided to walk through the cemetery and take a look at some of the names, while there was a bit of light left over from the day. He was sitting on the ground under the pine tree, where most folks are Mayes or Frosts. I’ve been meaning to go back, to see if there’s a little boy buried there, but I haven’t yet”.

“Want to go now? We can be a bit late, the dancing doesn’t start right away”.

“Isn’t the cemetery closed after dark?”

“Sure, it is,” I said, laughing. “But I’m the only one around to watch for intruders”.

So we put on our coats, gathered our keys, cell phones, and wallets into our pockets, and headed out the door. Amy paused to lock up behind us, as she always does, and we crossed the street to the little white church. I paused to look at its darkened windows, but Amy went straight on to its graveyard, stopping only at the locked gate.

I hurried to catch up, pulling the key from my pocket. It took a few twists and firm pushes to get the key into the lock, but it finally turned, as it always does.

I took Amy’s hand and she led me toward the far end of the cemetery, and the tallest trees. Some moonlight lit the path, but we were walking away from the street lights, and the shadows were deep.

“Here,” she said. “Somewhere around here”.

We were standing beside a towering pine tree, its shadow engulfing the cluster of graves at its foot. Amy bent down, squinting.

“Here,” I said, pulling my phone from my pocket.

I turned on its flashlight and bent beside her, peering at the stone.

“No,” she said, before I’d read it. “Too old”.

We moved on, she declaring each resident too old or too female.

“Look for an angel,” she told me. “Angels mark children’s graves”.

I was beginning to feel anxious. The light from my phone only made the world outside its beam seem darker, and the graves looked like strange and threatening shapes out of the corner of my eye.

“Here!” she said. “An angel!”

Something huge lunged out of the tree towards me. I screamed.

“Did you see him?” she asked.

Shaking, I looked down at my feet.

“No,” I said. “It’s just the tomcat”.

She looked at me, took in my pale face and shaking hands, and stood up.

“Let’s go dancing,” she said.

“Yes,” I replied. “I would like that”.