The Ghost with the Green Thumb Read online

  The Ghost with the Green Thumb

  By Maggie M. Larche

  Copyright © 2016 Maggie M. Larche

  Cover illustration by Maha Khatib

  Smashwords Edition

  Books in the True Girls Series

  The Mardi Gras Chase

  The Ghost with the Green Thumb

  Stepping Up

  Chapter 1

  Beth Shepherd, twelve-year-old grief counselor.

  I shook my head at my reflection. The whole idea was ridiculous. But I’d already been roped in.

  I wandered to my bedside table and pulled out the letter from my grandmother once again. I ran my fingers over the front of the envelope, noticing the missing stamps and the curved handwriting that clearly was learned during a time before computers.

  I replayed the scene in my mind and wondered again why I ever agreed to this crazy scheme.

  ***

  “Mail call!” announced my dad as he stuck his head into my room.

  I looked up from my sunburned skin. After a full day at the beach, my best friend Laura and I were coating each other in aloe.

  “Wow! For me?” I walked gingerly over the carpet as I tried to keep the green goop from dripping.

  “Yep, someone stuck it in the mailbox,” he said. He handed me a pale purple envelope covered in flowing script. “Lunch is in ten minutes, ok?” He left the room, whistling as he walked back down the hall.

  I read my name from the front. “Elizabeth Shepherd. There’s no return address.”

  “Well, go on, Beth,” said Laura, as she rubbed lotion onto her arms. “Open it!”

  I slid my finger through the top of the envelope and pulled out a piece of delicate stationery. I glanced quickly to the bottom of the letter. When I saw whose name was signed across the bottom, the breath caught in my throat.

  “What is it?” asked Laura. “Who’s it from?”

  I cleared my throat and read aloud.

  Honey,

  I absolutely hate writing this, but I’ve got a feeling that I need to. Your grandma’s number’s up, that’s for sure. I did not expect the cancer to move so swiftly, but perhaps that’s a blessing in disguise.

  Don’t worry, though, I’m not writing to dwell on sad things. I’m afraid that I need you to do me a favor. Just a little one – I promise.

  Do you think you could come visit your grandpa this summer? He’s never dealt with change well, and I worry about how he’s going to take being alone. If he could have you nearby for some of the healing process, I know it would do him all the good in the world. Don’t let him mope. Make him live!

  You’re such a sweetheart to listen to one last request from your grandma. I will look down on you every day to see the young lady you become and what amazing things you accomplish.

  I love you so, precious girl, and I will see you again.

  Love always,

  Grandma

  I sat down on my bed in shock. Too late, I remembered the aloe smeared across the back of my legs. Great, now I’d have to do laundry, too.

  Laura was staring at me with her mouth open. Finally, she asked, “What are you going to do?”

  I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. In the six months since my grandma died, I’d done my best to put the pain behind me. I really loved her, but I couldn’t grieve forever.

  But here she was again, calling me back to that time of sadness.

  “Beth?” asked Laura. It broke me out of my thoughts.

  I looked up and suddenly noticed tears welled up in my eyes. Where did those come from?

  “Are you going to go?” she asked.

  “No,” I said automatically, and realized that I meant it. I didn’t want to go to Grandpa’s, not right now. I wanted to be happy this summer. I wanted to see my friends and play soccer and not dwell on losing my favorite relative.

  “You’re not going?” Laura looked shocked. “It’s a request from the grave, and you’re going to ignore it?”

  “It’s not from the grave,” I said. “Grandma wrote it before she died and just had her lawyer mail it or something.”

  “Why aren’t there stamps?”

  I frowned. “That is weird, isn’t it?” I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter, though. I’m not going.”

  “Don’t you want to help your grandpa?”

  “Sure. I would if I could. But I don’t see how I can. I’ve moved on.”

  “Maybe you can teach him to do the same.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Get him to move on. Your grandpa might just need a little help.”

  I considered the thought. After all, Grandma was basically asking me to help Grandpa forget his sadness. If I went to visit, it’s not like we’d have to sit around crying about Grandma all day. I could try to distract him and get him interested in new things.

  I looked at Laura. “Do you really think I could make a difference?”

  It wasn’t just an idle question. Laura knew me so well we could have been sisters. Laura and I first met each other in kindergarten. We got into a fight over a boy named Andrew who promised to be both our boyfriends. After we fought it out and squirted Elmer’s glue all over each other, we decided to ditch Andrew and hang out with each other instead. We’d been best friends ever since.

  Laura walked over to me, her arms and legs moving stiffly with her sunburn. “Yes, you absolutely could help him.” She sat beside me. “I know how sad you were over your grandma. But look how well you’ve coped since then! I bet you’re just what your grandpa needs.”

  “Maybe.”

  I traced the letters of my grandmother’s signature. As much as it hurt to think about, she was gone now, just a part of my past and not my future. But perhaps I could still do this one last favor for her.

  “Besides, what are you going to be missing around here?” Laura asked. She waved her arm around. “Mrs. Richard’s lawn gnome falling over, or the Wilson boys getting grounded again for TPing the apartments. Real exciting stuff.”

  She had a point.

  “I’ll think about it.” I tucked the letter into my nightstand drawer. “Now come on. I’m hungry.” I stood up. “Want to stay for lunch?”

  Laura’s mother was a terrible cook, so Laura ate about half of her meals at my house.

  “Always,” she said. “Though if you leave me this summer, I have no idea what I’m going to eat.”

  “You should have thought about that before.”

  I dodged the pillow she threw at me and headed down for lunch.

  ***

  The following Sunday found my parents and me on the highway to Grandpa’s. My parents had both been enthusiastic about the idea, even as I secretly hoped they’d say no, so I had no choice but to pack up and get ready for a visit to sleepy little Galton.

  Galton was a tiny coastal town stuck about ten years in the past. Though it sat on the water, there weren’t any good beaches for swimming – just swamps and forests of one pine tree after another – so it had largely escaped the notice of tourists. The town entire town was within walking distance of Grandpa’s house, a situation that at least was great for someone like me, still years away from a driver’s license.

  I was to stay with Grandpa for one month. I reflected that it would sort of be like a summer camp. Minus the canoes and crafts and plus one sad older relative.

  So not exactly like summer camp.

  It was a gorgeous morning, with no hint of the heat that would bear down within a few hours and make everything hot and sticky. Traffic was light, and we made good time.

  “Any chance of stopping for a sausage biscuit?” I asked.

  My mom turned around to face me. “You ate three muffins before
we left! You can’t possibly still be hungry.”

  “Muffins were my morning snack,” I said. “Now I need breakfast.”

  “I hope your grandpa’s got a full pantry,” laughed Dad.

  “You’ll make it,” said Mom. “Grandpa’s sure to spoil you all summer, so we don’t need to start now.”

  I kicked my feet up between the two front seats and stretched. I was sore from another trip to the beach. Since I was leaving her, Laura insisted that we pack in an entire summer of fun before I left. We saw two movies, ate at Jim’s Diner twice, went swimming three times, and had two sleepovers, one at each of our houses. It had been a whirlwind.

  I was now out of money, tired, and sunburned yet again. Just the way you should be at the end of a really good summer.

  If only I could have spread it out a little.

  In typical Laura fashion, she’d said goodbye with a big dramatic hug and a request that I call her constantly, particularly if I met any boys.

  I sat back and watched the scenery flash by. My thoughts drifted to my grandmother, as they had been ever since I received the mysterious letter.

  Her death had come suddenly. The cancer seemed to come from nowhere, and Grandma went into a steep and quick decline. Only two measly months after her diagnosis, she passed away. Lung cancer in a woman who had never smoked a day in her life. It just wasn’t fair.

  The whole thing was awful. Really awful. Grandma was the first person I knew that had died. I mean, yeah, I’d heard of people dying, but no one who I was actually close to.

  My parents and I were sad, obviously, but it really hit my grandpa the hardest. At the funeral, the tall, vigorous man I knew as Grandpa looked like he’d been hollowed out. He was devastated. Not that I blamed him.

  I frowned. I didn’t know how, but somehow I was just going to have to convince Grandpa to look forward instead of back. He just needed to find his new focus in life. I could do that.

  Little did I know at the time that someone else was going to help me in my plan. Someone entirely unexpected.

  Chapter 2

  After almost two hours of driving, I started to recognize signs that we were getting close. I saw a few familiar homes and the old abandoned Dairy Queen by the highway.

  Ten minutes later, my dad turned the car into Grandpa’s driveway and maneuvered around the winding turns of the lane. My grandfather’s house was set way back off the street in the middle of several wooded acres. His driveway was long and curvy, so we couldn’t see the house until we drove around a few different bends.

  Finally, we made the last turn.

  “We’re here, guys,” said my dad. I looked out the window at the house, squinting my eyes against the morning sun.

  I frowned. The house looked a little off, though I wasn’t sure why.

  My grandparents’ home was always warm and welcoming, with wood floors and big airy windows all over the house. It was the perfect vacation contrast to the compact apartment I shared with my parents.

  Today, the house looked gorgeous, as it always did. The shutters gleamed a pretty bright cherry red against the light brick. Everything seemed clean and tidy. Two excellent old-timey rockers sat on the front porch, just waiting for summer evenings. But, still, something seemed missing.

  “The flowers!” I exclaimed. “They’re gone!”

  When my grandmother was alive, she worked diligently to cultivate amazing flowerbeds around the house. The front porch was lined with hydrangeas and zinnias. Flowering crepe myrtles stood guard by the driveway, and morning glory vines climbed latticework in the side yard.

  But today, every flower was missing. Instead of overflowing blossoms, all I could see were patches of dirt and crabgrass where flowerbeds had been.

  I frowned. Even with my own resolution to look forward instead of back, the neglect of Grandma’s flowers bothered me more than I cared to admit.

  “I know, sweetie,” said my mom as Dad pulled the car to a stop. “I don’t think Grandpa’s had the heart to keep the gardens going this season. Maybe you’ll be able to help him out with that while you’re here.”

  As we walked to the trunk of the car to unload the bags, the front door of the house opened.

  “Karl!” Mom called, and ran up the steps to give him a hug.

  “Hello, sweetheart. It’s so nice to see you here.”

  My grandpa was a tall, thin man with a smile that could dazzle when he was really happy. He still had all his hair, though it was grey, and, in spite of his age, he was usually very energetic.

  Today, he seemed to be missing some of that same energy, as he had been since Grandma’s death, but for the most part he seemed ok. He certainly looked worlds better than the broken, stooped man he’d been at the funeral. That was a good sign.

  “Hi, Dad,” said my dad, striding up the porch. “We’ve brought you a little something. It’s short and hungry. If I could just remember where I put it…”

  “Ha,” I said. I ran up to Grandpa, and he enveloped me in an embrace.

  “Oh, I’ve missed my girl!” he said to me. “Thank you so much for coming to see me this summer.”

  “No prob. Thanks for having me.”

  Just then a little orange face peered around the open doorway.

  “Luigi!” I cried, running to the cat. Luigi was my favorite animal in the entire world. I guessed that I was his, too, because he never seemed to like anybody but me. I scooped him up into my arms just like a baby, while he purred contentedly and rubbed his head against my stomach. “You missed me, didn’t you?” I cooed.

  “Ok, Beth,” broke in Dad, “let’s get these bags inside before you start your ritual spoiling of that mean cat.”

  “All right,” I said and reluctantly put the cat down. “I’ll be back for you later,” I promised him. I grabbed a duffel bag while Dad carried my two suitcases. Mom preceded us into the house, and Grandpa held the door open for us.

  “Thanks,” we said as we passed through the doorway. Once inside the front hall, we again felt that delicious coolness that I always associated with Grandpa’s. It was quiet inside, with only the gentle whirring of a fan in the background.

  “Well,” said Grandpa, “why don’t we all sit down in the living room, and you can catch me up?”

  We filed into a pretty room decorated in light greens. I ran and jumped onto the beige overstuffed sofa, wiggling into the soft cushions. “Come here, Luigi,” I called. He ran and jumped into my lap. He circled for a few moments picking the perfect position before he settled down into a fluffy ball.

  Grandpa smiled at me before he turned to my parents. “How was the drive?”

  While my parents and Grandpa talked, I sat back and surveyed the room. Unlike the front flowerbeds, at least this room looked mostly the same as always. Same old curtains, same pictures, same hooked rug under my toes. Only the piano looked a little different.

  The top of Grandpa’s piano was usually covered in sheet music, new pieces that Grandpa was working on or old favorites that he played for fun. The keys were always open, inviting anyone to sit down for a moment and bang out a ditty.

  Today, however, the top of the piano was clean, devoid of papers scattered across its shiny top. The cover was also closed over the keys, which gave the instrument an oddly shuttered look, almost as if a “Going Out of Business” sign wouldn’t look out of place hanging from the front knobs.

  I guess Grandpa tidied it up for company.

  Just then, I tuned back into the conversation when Dad said my name.

  “Beth has left behind her best friend, Laura. You remember her, don’t you? You met her at last year’s Fourth of July picnic we threw.”

  “Sure, I do,” said Grandpa. “A sweet girl, as I remember. And perhaps,” he turned laughing eyes on me, “just a bit on the wild side?”

  “Yep,” I grinned. “That’s her. Speaking of Laura, you reminded me of a promise I made. I need to run down to your mailbox and drop her a letter.”

  “A real letter?” as
ked Dad. “That’s two in one week.”

  “She made me promise. She said it was the only bright spot of me going out of town.”

  When my parents waved me out of the room, I scratched Luigi’s head and then moved him to a sofa cushion. I ran to my bag and fished out the letter I’d written in the car on the way over, along with the one stamp I’d packed specifically for this purpose.

  Dear Laura,

  All right, here it is – your promised letter. I hope it’s everything you thought it would be and is totally worth the wait, when I could just call you right now instead. But whatever.

  Not much to report yet. We’re in the car on our way over. I felt a little sad when we first left this morning because my room felt kind of empty. But I’m doing better now. Dad’s pumping some old music, and it’s driving Mom crazy. They’re good for a laugh.

  I want to go ahead and send this to you as soon as I get to Grandpa’s, so you won’t feel left out. Hopefully I’ll have a little more to tell you about next time we talk.

  Love ya!

  Beth

  I quickly addressed and stamped the envelope.

  I headed out the door to work my way down to the mailbox. The sun shone through the leaves and made a spangled pattern of light on the pavement in front of me. I followed the winding drive through the trees and enjoyed stretching my legs after the long car ride.

  But, after a minute, that feeling slowly disappeared. I paused and tilted my head. I heard a rustle coming from the trees on my right. It grew louder and louder until I wondered in alarm if a bobcat was about to cross my path.

  Just then, a boy crashed through the underbrush into the lane. He seemed to be struggling to get his feet under him when he suddenly caught his balance, straightened, and saw me not three inches from his nose.