“We’ll have to plan some…I don’t know, visits to parks? The library children’s section?”

  “I’ll have to explain that she can’t expect to talk to you in a place with other people.”

  “Hey, what if I left the TV on when I go?”

  “But it’s only for watching DVDs. We don’t get channels.”

  “I bought a digital tuner and a small antenna.” She stood and walked to the living room. “See that black patch on the side window? It usually only gets PBS, but Cherry could watch it, and so could you.”

  “You’d have to leave it on. Don’t want her frustrated if she can’t pick up a remote.”

  Digger flipped on the TV and kept the volume low. “She still doesn’t understand she’s a ghost?”

  “Sometimes she does. You should have seen her the day she floated through the door to her room.”

  “She liked it?”

  “Not at first, but she got used to it.” He shrugged. “But then she talked about sneaking up on her friend Tina, so it’s complicated.”

  Digger pushed herself away from the table. “I guess what I’m hoping is if she was up there all this time that her mother is nearby. I don’t want a houseful of ghosts, but if we had Samantha, Cherry could stay here with her while you and I go gallivanting.”

  Uncle Benjamin smiled. “Or at least over to the library in Frostburg so I could dive into some history books I haven’t read.”

  BY THE TIME SHE began the trek up the trail, Digger had begun to laugh at herself. She was hiking toward an abandoned cottage in hopes of seeing a raccoon that protected a ghost child. And while she was at it, she’d see if she could find indication of another dead person.

  The weather was warmer than when she and Marty had staged his cottage photo op, so more people were on the trail. As usual, mostly tourists, so she didn’t expect to see anyone she knew.

  When she neared the cottage, she bent to tie the laces on her hiking boot. She let two college-age men walk past, and when she didn’t see anyone else, she stepped off the path and quickly moved to a side of the cottage not visible from the path.

  She stood amid the brush and listened to the sounds of the woods. A nearby tree frog had been disturbed and emitted rhythmic chirps. A bird, maybe a blue jay, responded to each chirp.

  For more than a minute she did a slow turn. The large Halloway house was half-hidden among the pines. When maples were fully leafed, it would be hard to see one house from the other.

  Muted voices came from the path. Digger reminded herself that it was a thin trail when Samantha and Cherry lived here.

  The former driveway that went from the cottage to the larger house had been almost totally overgrown. She could tell from the absence of low-hanging branches that someone kept it at least passable, probably to be able to check on the cottage.

  As she finished her turn, a rustle in the brush gave her a start. The raccoon stared up at her from less than three feet away.

  “Okay, this is really creepy.” She went to one knee, and it held her gaze. “You want to know if your friend is coming back? I guess I should bring her to see you.” She realized she was whispering and smiled to herself.

  As she stood, the raccoon turned and darted under a balsam fir tree. At least it hadn’t hissed.

  Digger sighed. She wished she knew what she was looking for. Certainly not a log with another ghost, but something had to be here.

  She walked to the side of the cottage and scanned for the log she had placed a foot on, prompting Cherry to look out and be visible to Uncle Benjamin. She found it and nudged it with the toe of her boot. Nothing happened.

  Digger stopped to peer into the log. She expected twigs, leaves, maybe even moss. But the interior wood was smooth, almost as if it had been sanded. A few feet in sat a flat rock. Had it been a pillow for Cherry?

  What she didn’t find were fragments of a child’s clothes. Would they have survived for twelve years? Not intact, but she had hoped for a metal barrette or Barbie doll. At least a plastic arm or leg.

  DIGGER WARMED UP SOME vegetable soup for lunch and ate at the kitchen table. She knew Uncle Benjamin would join her eventually. She tried to imagine spending all day with an eight-year-old and couldn’t. It would be one thing for a parent and child to go through the routine of a school day or busy weekend, but all day alone in a house?

  Bitsy trotted over and laid his head on her shoe.

  “Sorry, it’s vegetarian vegetable, not beef. You wouldn’t want the green beans.”

  He plopped on his side so Digger leaned down to rub his belly.

  As she dried her dishes, Uncle Benjamin floated into the kitchen. “Cherry and Ragdoll are playing dress-up.”

  “She dresses the cat?”

  “She thinks she does. That’s what counts. More important, Ragdoll stays with her, so she’s content. Did you find anything near the cottage?”

  Digger sat at the table again and Uncle Benjamin adopted his cross-legged position atop it. “I saw the raccoon and checked out her log. It’s oddly clean inside.”

  “Makes sense to me, if she stayed in there all the time.”

  Digger didn’t ask how a weightless ghost could have kept out sticks and moss. “I say let’s head up there this afternoon. Unless you think she’ll start to fade again.”

  Uncle Benjamin shook his head. “I think I’m her anchor, or whatever you want to call it, at least for now. Maybe you are, too.”

  Digger stood. “Great. Don’t you get lost in the woods. I won’t know what to do with her.”

  AS DIGGER PULLED HER Jeep into the parking lot at the trailhead below Old Knob, she eyed the increasingly cloudy sky. She didn’t want to be climbing up, or down for that matter, on a rain-slick trail.

  She put the Jeep in park and listened as Uncle Benjamin told Cherry where they were. He looked at Digger. “Cherry is sitting very still, looking around.”

  Digger busied herself with putting her keys in her purse and pretending to check for something in the glove box. She didn’t want to get ahead of her ghostly pair.

  After almost a minute, Cherry apparently started asking Uncle Benjamin questions. Digger watched him nod, then respond.

  “I think it used to be a smaller parking lot, but more people wanted to come here, so they made it bigger.”

  A pause, then, “It’s still the back way to your cottage. Excuse me, your house.”

  Digger opened her car door.

  Uncle Benjamin nodded again. “Digger wants to start walking up the path. Would you like to come?” Another pause. “I don’t know the other way. I think this is fine.”

  Digger glanced around. Only four cars sat in the lot, and no one was nearby. “Come on, Cherry. I think there’s a chance we’ll see Big Eyes.”

  Behind her, Uncle Benjamin said, “Okay, wait for me! She’s run ahead. I’ll catch up to her.”

  Digger walked at a steady pace, barely keeping Uncle Benjamin within sight. Cherry must have stopped because she caught up to him after a minute.

  “I told Cherry I needed to rest.” He looked down. “Yes, Digger’s a lot younger than I am.”

  From above them on the trail, voices drifted down. It sounded like three or four people. Digger looked toward Uncle Benjamin’s waist. “Cherry, I’m going to walk some more. You can walk with me if Uncle Benjamin wants to rest, but remember, I can’t hear you.”

  “She says okay, she’s going to go ahead of you.” Uncle Benjamin walked next to Digger. “I’m not really tired. I wanted you to catch up.”

  “Sure. Is she far ahead of us?”

  “Twenty yards or so. She’s puzzled about how wide the tail is, but she’s really excited.”

  Four people appeared ahead of them on the path. Digger recognized one as a man who worked at the post office, but didn’t know the others. Uncle Benjamin walked past her.

  The group drew closer. “Hello, Gus, isn’t it?”

  The older man smiled. “You’re Digger, right?”

  “Yes.” She stopped, and the two men and two women stayed about ten feet from her farther up the trail. “Good day for some exercise.”

  “Sure is.” He introduced his wife, Susan, and the other two, who were members of her family visiting from New England. “I keep telling them we even get some sap from these trees.”

  After another awkward thirty seconds, Digger let them walk past her down the trail. Gus called back, “I think you’ll have The Knob to yourself.”

  “Sounds good.” She trudged toward where she’d seen Uncle Benjamin leave the path ahead of her. As she got closer, his excited tone reached her.

  “I see him, Cherry. He’s happy to see you, too.”

  She walked off the path near the cottage and saw the raccoon standing on its hind legs, front paws resting on what she’d come to think of as Cherry’s log. The animal was smelling the air.

  Uncle Benjamin stood a few feet from the raccoon, mouth slightly agape. He turned to face Digger. “They’re rubbing noses.”

  Digger stood next to him. “I can’t believe this. It’s nuts.”

  The raccoon dropped to all fours and waddled toward the cottage.

  “He’s following her,” Uncle Benjamin said. “I’ve been worried about her realizing no one is in the cottage.”

  Digger sat on the log and watched Uncle Benjamin follow Cherry. She didn’t want to be drawn into a conversation she couldn’t really participate in. And in case someone else came up the path, she didn’t want to appear to be talking to a tree.

  She took a swig of water from the small bottle in her fanny pack and stared at the cottage. What happened to Samantha Halloway? Did Cherry have a suppressed memory of her mother being killed or carted off while the child watched from her hiding place?

  After several minutes, Uncle Benjamin floated over to sit next to her. “Was that No Trespassing sign in front of the cottage this morning?”

  “What? No.” Digger stood.

  Uncle Benjamin frowned. “You should probably stay over here. The raccoon won’t get prosecuted. You might.”

  Digger sat next to him. “I guess I didn’t prowl every inch of the area, but I think I would have noticed it.”

  “Looks like someone just dug the hole for a narrow dowel and stapled one of those cheap signs. Like I used to sell at the hardware store.”

  “Maybe because of the article in the paper “What’s she doing?”

  He nodded ahead of him. “She seems to understand all this a lot better than I thought she would. She’s telling Big Eyes where her bedroom was and where the TV sat in the front room. She hasn’t asked why it’s boarded up.”

  “She hasn’t asked where her mother is?”

  “Not so far.” He nodded toward the larger house, just visible through the trees. “Sometime we need to come up here when I can float around in there. Makes more sense as an Underground Railroad stop than any other place for miles.”

  “Because of its size?”

  “Partly. Remote location. Big cellar. Some houses up here were closer to underground streams. Ground is soggier.”

  “So where do we go from here? About Cherry, I mean.”

  Uncle Benjamin shook his head. “I have no idea. I…Cherry, stay where I can see you.”

  Digger grinned. “It’s not like she could trip over a tree root and hurt herself.”

  The raccoon had begun to amble back toward where Uncle Benjamin and Digger sat.

  “Nuts. She’s upset that he isn’t staying with her. She’s coming this way.” He moved away.

  Digger stood. The late afternoon air felt a lot cooler than when the sun was high, and she shivered. She’d hoped Cherry would perhaps wander to a place where she’d last seen her mother and miraculously a maternal ghost would appear who would want to care for her daughter.

  Uncle Benjamin’s frustration was clear. “I’m sure he does like you, but Big Eyes may need to go somewhere else. We can see him again.”

  Digger became aware of raindrops hitting the leaves above her. Cool and wet. Not a good combination, especially since the leaves weren’t yet full. She glanced to the path. No one there. “Come on, Cherry. It’s about to rain.”

  Uncle Benjamin held out a hand for her and spoke in a soothing tone. “We’ll think about how to let Big Eyes know you like him extra special much.”

  As Digger turned toward the path, she heard what she thought was more rain hitting leaves or pine needles above her. But it came from about twenty yards away, in a spot where the pine trees stood more thickly.

  She gasped. A thin-shouldered person, she thought a woman, had moved quickly away. All Digger could see was a blue watch cap with long brown hair streaming from it, and a navy-blue cable sweater.

  What had the person overhead, and why wouldn’t she show herself?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  WHEN DIGGER PULLED INTO the Ancestral Sanctuary drive, Franklin’s Volvo sat in front of the house.

  Uncle Benjamin woke Cherry, who had been napping in the Jeep’s back seat. “My son is here! Cherry, you can meet Digger’s cousin.”

  Digger loved to see Franklin, but now she would have input from two ghosts when she tried to talk to her cousin.

  She smiled as she hugged him. “I didn’t know you were coming. I would have cooked something special.”

  He released her and they walked arm-in-arm up the front steps. “I went to the law office for a couple hours this morning, but some plans I had for this evening fell through. I hopped in the car and came up here for the rest of the weekend.”

  “Terrific.”

  Behind them, Uncle Benjamin answered Cherry’s questions about how old Franklin was, where he lived, and whether he brought any pets with him. Digger tried to ignore him.

  “Are you and Marty doing anything tonight?”

  There it was again. Franklin liked Marty, which was good, but she obviously couldn’t tell him why they didn’t spend more time together. “He’s working on a couple stories, so I don’t think so.”

  “On a Saturday night?”

  “During the day, mostly, but he needs to chill.” She hoped Franklin didn’t run into Marty if he went into town. She hated to tell lies, but if she tried to explain more, Franklin would spot all the holes.

  “I put your ancient tea kettle on, and I brought some wine because I know you like to mix it.”

  Digger said she wanted to change out of hiking clothes and made her way upstairs. Cherry seemed to continue to pepper Uncle Benjamin with questions about Franklin, because she could hear him murmuring responses.

  She had to get her mind wrapped around having someone else in the house full-time. For the weekend, anyway. She changed from jeans into lighter-weight pants and a tee-shirt that said, “Bone Digger,” and went back downstairs.

  Franklin sat at the kitchen table reading something on his phone. At the sound of the kettle whistle, he jumped up and poured her tea and offered her what he called a splash of burgundy.

  She smiled. “I’m always big on calming beverages. You seem more energized than usual.”

  He finished with their mugs and sat across from her. “Actually, I’m thinking of bringing a friend up here.”

  Something in his tone seemed to imply he was asking permission.

  “That’s great!” Digger grinned. “Is this a special friend?”

  He blushed slightly. “It is.”

  “You’re so funny. I can’t wait to meet her.”

  As Franklin opened his mouth to speak, the phone rang. She went to the wall phone. “Digger here.”

  “Marty here.”

  Her heart beat faster. “Hey. What are you up to?” A legitimate question, since she had no idea.

  “I was abrupt yesterday. Sorry about that.”

  “I get it.” Digger decided Franklin could provide neutral banter. “Franklin just surprised me with a visit. You want to come up for supper?”

  “Uh, no, I think I’ll wait for more family stuff until we figure out our own stuff. I’m not mad, it just…makes sense.”

  “I understand what you’re saying.”

  “Is he sitting right there?”

  “Yep.”

  “Tell him I said hello. I’ll let you go.”

  She hung up. “He says hello. Maybe next time.” She sat down. “So, tell me about your friend.”

  Franklin flushed again. “I think I’ll surprise you.”

  That seemed odd, but Franklin had never dated much. From what she’d heard, he’d had a small group of high school friends. She knew he kept in touch with several of them. College and law school had been all about studying, and he seemed to take his law career in Washington, DC, very seriously. When she and Uncle Benjamin had visited him in DC, they generally ate dinner with only him, though occasionally a friend would stop at their table.

  “Okay, keep your secret. Since you’re here, I’m going to get stuff to make chili.”

  “I’ll take us out.”

  “It’s no fun to make it for just me. I’ll run to town to get hamburger and some onions and cheddar cheese. I have everything else.”

  “If you insist. I got up at six. I might take a short walk and then lie down for a few minutes.”

  “We can’t ride with Digger, Cherry. Plus, I want to follow my son around.”

  AS SHE RETURNED FROM the grocery store, Digger didn’t expect to see a lone branch lying partway across the gravel. Even if the wind had blown down limbs, this one was too far from a tree to have landed there. Odd.

  She stopped the Jeep and got out, careful to avoid a spot where the drive was more mud than gravel. As she stooped to grab the branch, steps behind her made her turn. If she hadn’t, the tire iron the woman aimed for her shoulder probably would have broken her collar bone.

  “What the hell!” She dodged and slipped to one knee as the metal rod came close enough for her to hear a whoosh. Without any conscious thought, she half-crouched and half-stood and made for the passenger side of the Jeep. When she got there, she stood fully.

  The woman, perhaps ten or fifteen years older than she, followed, but Digger stayed ahead of her. In seconds they were on opposite sides of the vehicle playing a version of dodgeball, minus the ball.