PART 1 GHOSTS

THE FAMILY FARM was the absolute last destination on Penny’s travel wish list. A stray strand of hair fell across her amber eyes as she stared out of the pockmarked Amtrak window. A blurred carousel of images passed by without sparking any interest. Farmland, strip malls, neatly organized pods of houses, then more farmland. She already missed the city. Her girlfriends would be going to Rosie’s pub after work to flirt with the hot waiters. Penny was on the train to Hell. She thought she had left the ghosts behind three years ago.

The phone call had been a shock. Her father, Gary Thompson, was strong as a bull, stubborn as a mule, and Penny thought he would never die. His heart disease had other plans. If only her brother, Eric, was around handle this for her. Penny turned away from the window and extracted a tissue from her purse. She swore to herself that she wouldn’t cry, but these tears were for Eric.

Penny’s mother died of cancer when she was seventeen and Eric fourteen. When she went off to college, Eric was a junior at Westfield High. Eric said he would be fine alone with Dad until graduation. Penny was nearing the end of her sophomore year, enjoying life in the city, when word came that Eric had been killed in a car accident. He lost control and drove into a tree one month shy of escaping the farm. The whole town turned out for the funeral. So much sadness should not befall a single family. That was the last time she had ridden the Amtrak back to the place she once called home. Three years ago. She was not looking forward to her father’s funeral or spending any time in the big farmhouse – with the ghosts.

When the train slowed, Penny was surprised that two hours had passed. She exited the train onto the familiar concrete platform. Heat and humidity hit like an ocean wave after the air-conditioned Amtrak. A colorful poster for her old dentist, featuring a cartoonish roadster shaped like a tooth, made her smile. Another placard announced the upcoming county fair, featuring smiling faces holding corn dogs on long sticks. Her stomach churned, thinking of the grease. Before more old memories could flood her already addled brain, blue and red flashing lights caught her attention.

A black Sheriff’s SUV hugged the curb at the base of the wooden stairs leading from the train platform. Seeing the man in a blue uniform leaning against the front grill sent a tingle up Penny’s spine. She froze, prompting other passengers to brush against her as they veered around the unexpected obstruction. Penny’s gaze was fixed on Chuck Foreman’s waving hand. She waved back, years of memories cascaded into her brain, despite her best efforts to block them.

“How’d you know I’d be on this train?” She dropped her Yves Saint Laurent overnight bag on the dusty sidewalk. Chuck looked different. At their senior prom, his hair dangled around his ears and his face was dappled with acne. Now, a smooth, square chin rested beneath a row of white teeth. He seemed taller, and certainly broader in the chest and shoulders, in his crisp uniform. She could not see any hair peeking below his Smokey Bear hat. His clear blue eyes had the same puppy-dog expression she remembered. They had dated throughout their junior and senior years. Then he went off to join the Army and she left for college in the city. Five years ago. A lifetime.

“You know how it is,” he looked at the ground with the shy smile she was so attracted to as a naive teenager.

“Betty Anne’s mom works at the funeral parlor and knows you have an appointment at four-thirty. Word got around to me and this is the last train that would get you here in time. You look amazing.”

Penny knew she looked far from amazing. Two hours on a train, barely any make-up, bloodshot eyes, unwashed hair tied up in a ponytail, and wearing a shapeless t-shirt with her worst pair of jeans. Chuck had to be starved for any girl not dragging a toddler. “Thanks, but I know I’m a mess.”

“Well, you look great to me.” Chuck tossed her bag into the back seat, then opened the passenger door for her. On the ride, she asked about Chuck’s parents and his younger sister. Audrey was married and had two kids. His parents were the typical doting grandparents. His father still ran the hardware store and his mom spent most of her time at the Presbyterian Church. Chuck enthusiastically recounted his family’s happiness. He knew not to ask about hers.

At the funeral parlor, Penny survived the process of approving the arrangements – the framed photo of her father to be displayed next to the casket, the information for the guest book, and a dozen other details she barely comprehended and cared nothing about. She politely declined to view the body. Back outside, Penny inhaled deeply. The July air was thick with humidity and memories. Chuck, who had made it his business to be her personal chauffeur for the day, drove to her childhood home.

As the big SUV rolled up the long, winding road to the Thompson farmhouse, a yellow Labrador bounded down the gravel driveway, barking excitedly. Penny’s face lit up. She spilled out of the car before it fully stopped, dropped to one knee, and buried her face in the old dog’s neck. “Duke, oh you good boy!” she chirped, scratching the floppy folds of skin around the dog’s ear with a manicured nail.

“You need any help?” Chuck deposited her designer overnight bag on the gravel.

“No. We’ll be alright,” she said around Duke’s tongue. Their neighbors must have taken care of Duke in the two days since he became the farm’s last remaining resident. She disengaged long enough to thank Chuck for the ride – and his kindness. He held out his arms and she fell into a hug, which lingered.

As the cloud of dust from Chuck’s departure dissipated, the memories hit like a summer storm. Penny turned toward the cornfield. The stalks were thin and far shorter than they should have been in July, the result of the hot and dry summer, punctuated by thunderstorms. She shook her head. Why was she thinking about the health of the corn crop? She didn’t care. She didn’t want to be there, but somebody had to settle the estate. The land would revert to the town under the open space deal her father made when he decided it was too difficult to work the farm for profit. After that, he just grew strawberries in the spring, one field of corn in the summer, and pumpkins in the fall. He sold the pumpkins to the town’s children for pennies. Her mother had reveled in decorating the place for Halloween and designing the corn maze each fall . . .before she died. The ghosts were even there in the cornfield.

Penny finally forced herself into the house through the back door, which was unlocked, like always. The spotless kitchen, looking the same as when she was ten, waited patiently to service the family’s needs. Back then, it was a hive of activity. Now, it was a silent husk. Duke nuzzled Penny’s leg and whined. She put out dog food, which he quickly inhaled, then fixed herself an omelet in a black cast iron skillet. Eating had slipped her mind. The cheese and eggs in the fridge were still fresh, as if her father was away only for the weekend.

She was halfway through her food when Duke barked and sat up, then raced out the kitchen door. A car ground its way up the driveway, prompting Penny to abandon her plate. Outside, she watched Duke circle around Chester Almon, the mayor of Westfield. His father, Duncan, the previous mayor, had seamlessly passed the executive torch to his son, along with his land development business. It was the natural progression of things.

“I’m so sorry, Penny,” he patted his thick chest as he spoke. Only a few years older than Penny, he had already settled into his father’s barrel-shaped body and thinning hair.

“Thank you,” she replied politely. “I just got here.”

“You take your time organizing your dad’s affairs. I’m not in a hurry. Under the terms of the agreement your father signed with the town, you have the option to stay on the farm as long as you want. You also have the option to sell the farm to the town at any time. You can take the four hundred and fifty thousand whenever you want it.”

“That’s the sale price?”

“That’s what’s in the agreement. But, as I said, you can also choose to stay and work the farm. You take your time and let me know when you make a decision.”

“Those are my only options? Live here and work the farm, or sell to the town?”

“That was your father’s deal, but you have much more important things to concentrate on right now. You get through the funeral and we’ll talk later. I wanted to wish you my condolences personally.” He retreated to his BMW without looking back, Duke following behind to ensure the intruder didn’t linger.

* * *

AN HOUR LATER, tired from staring at bills, bank records, and check registers, Penny took Duke outside for a run. After a few quick ball-fetches in the oppressive heat, she decided to take refuge in the barn. The small side door creaked like an old friend as Penny’s nose drew in the musty air, filled with hay and manure. Penny meandered through the familiar space, stopping at her father’s workbench, with his tools neatly arranged on a pegboard wall. She recalled her father teaching her how to change the oil in the tractor, how to tie knots, change sparkplugs, and clean and care for the tools. On the pegboard, three hammers of varying sizes hung from hooks. There was a gap where the second-largest of the set of four should have been. Her father never left a tool out of its proper place. Maybe he was using it when he had his heart attack. The thought actually made her smile. It’s how he would have wanted to die – holding a hammer.

Turning away, her eyes landed on a hulking shadow against the far wall. The old tractor. When she was a girl, it was already past its prime, but it had been the farm’s iron horse. It pulled the big wagon full of giggling children through the Haunted Hayride at Halloween. Now, it was covered with rust and mold. She climbed into the springloaded seat, oblivious to the grime rubbing onto her jeans. The key was in its usual hiding spot, but only a weak click greeted its turn. Dead battery. Lifting the engine cover and peering inside, she heard her father’s voice over her shoulder. She was twelve again. Duke, then a puppy, bounded in the hay. “Ya see those brown nubs, stickin’ up there? Those are your spark plugs. Without those, nothin’ runs.” gray smoke rose up from an unseen source. She noticed the smell of burning wood. The thunderstorm. It wasn’t unusual for a lightning strike to take down a tree and sometimes start a fire. Chuck marched toward the pasture, while Penny hurried to catch up.

Penny shook her head to chase away her father’s spectral voice. Those were the good days – before her mom got sick. For the first time, she felt the loss of her father like a mule kick. For the next half hour, she worked to put new plugs in the tractor’s engine. There was a fresh box in the plastic bin, second down, two in from the left. Where they belonged. That was the farm she remembered; everything in its place. It was foolish, putting new plugs in a dilapidated engine that probably wouldn’t ever run again.

Wiping engine grease from her hands with a fresh rag from under the workbench, Penny remembered the first time her dad let her drive the tractor by herself when she was fourteen. She would have to get a new battery. She could not explain why, but getting the tractor working again was important.

The sun hid behind dark, ominous clouds as Penny emerged from the barn. She felt the wind kick up and smelled the metallic scent of ozone. A storm was coming. That night, Penny snuggled in her childhood bed, listening to the rain pelting like buckshot against her window while Duke’s heavy breathing helped her sleep.

At the far side of the field, a creek snaked across the landscape at the bottom of a gully, four feet below the rest of the land. Penny and Eric had spent countless hours down those banks, splashing in the clear water and fishing for the trout that spawned in the culvert beyond the county road. Beyond the creek bed, an ancient oak tree lorded over the meadow where the cows once grazed when it had been a working farm. The oak had seen two centuries. On this day it had lost one of its four great limbs, which lay on the grass, smoldering. A nasty black scar slashed up from the ground along the thick trunk. The tree would survive, but would mourn the loss of an arm.

The engorged stream rushed through its soft canyon, feeding the night’s rainwater away from the farm. A portion of the bank had collapsed and slid toward the water’s edge. Penny took a step down the bank, but slipped in the mud, embedding a sneaker. “Damn!”

Chuck quickly reached her, his Sheriff’s boots sinking into the saturated soil. Penny’s foot escaped the mud with a sucking squish, leaving her pink New Balance running shoe behind. “Oh, for crying out loud,” she exclaimed.

THE CRUNCH OF TIRES on gravel woke Penny the next morning. Light streamed through the crack between the shade and the top of her window, telling her it was already late morning. Duke barked and ducked through his doggie door, which allowed him unimpeded ingress and egress. When Penny finally pushed through the kitchen door, her gut fluttered. Chuck Foreman knelt by his Sheriff’s SUV, patting Duke. Seeing Penny, he stood and waved.

“You don’t have to check up on me,” she said, trying to sound more annoyed than she really was. Chuck’s smiling face was more comforting than she wanted to admit.

“I’m not checking on you. I’m checking on the fire.” Chuck gestured over his shoulder. Penny held a hand up to shade her eyes and squinted toward the horizon. Thin

“I got that.” Chuck helpfully reached toward the hole that quickly filled with water. He extracted the shoe, washed off the mud in the stream, then turned to hand it to Penny, who sat on a dark rock. His left arm was halfextended when he stopped and stared at the creek bank to his right.

“What’s more interesting than me down there in the mud?”

“That,” Chuck pulled back Penny’s sneaker and used it to point. Sticking out from the bank, where the ground had washed away, was another sneaker. Brown from being covered in dirt, the rubber sole was visible. An exposed bone extended into the shoe’s heel, then disappeared into the soil.

Penny’s eyes opened as wide as one of her mother’s China tea saucers. It was a body, and it had been there for a while.