The Mammoth Book of Ghost Stories by Women (Mammoth Books)

“Dad had a bad dream,” he said, avoiding her gaze.

“I guess that’s to be expected,” she replied. She reached out a hand towards the refrigerator and he saw that it was shaking. Like his.

Tell her, he thought. But it was too complicated, and he didn’t want to upset Elle. He hadn’t really seen his mother.

“Cody,” she said, and sat down at the kitchen table. She looked down at her hands. Then she said, “I’m going back to bed.”

Tell her. But he never told her anything.

“Good night,” he said.

He pulled out a casserole, then put it back and shut the refrigerator door. He glanced at the blank kitchen windows. What if his mother’s ghost went to Elle’s window next? He hurried down the hallway to his sister’s door and knocked softly on it.

“Come in,” she said.

The dark blue drapes were pulled across her window. He tried not to imagine his mother’s mottled face, her shiny eyes, on the other side the glass.

I didn’t see her.

Elle looked at him. Then her gaze slid down to the floor. “Cody,” she said again.

He took a deep breath. “Did you see her?” he asked.

She cocked her head. “When? The night it . . . happened?”

The night it happened, their mother had gone out into the dark forest without her flashlight. It had been snowing. She was found in the morning beside the fence, the gate frozen open. Cody had found her.

She had been lying face down. He hadn’t turned her over. He had kneeled in the snow to check her pulse. But he already knew. He could tell. Her skin was shiny, like ice, and—

“I went into Dad’s room,” he began, meaning tonight. Just now.

“So did I.” She clenched her jaw. “I saw.”

He suddenly had the feeling they were talking about two different things. He glanced at the closed curtains.

Then he smelled the smoke. It was thick and oily, and it was rolling down the hallway.

“Dad!” he shouted.

Together he and Elle ran back down the hall. The quilts on the living-room walls were on fire. The recliner was ablaze, and Kenneth was staggering through the smoke, coughing hard.

“I’ll get water,” Elle said, as Cody ran for his father. He took his hand and hurried him to the front door. He threw it open and—

She was standing there. His dead mother, skin blue and brown and red. Her dark blue polyester top over a long black skirt he didn’t recognize. Her eyes were like cracked marbles. Her mouth hung slightly open, revealing only blackness.

“She’s cold,” Kenneth said.

“The ceiling is catching!” Elle cried. “We have to get out!” The house was making a whum-whum sort of noise as the fire grew, flames crackling and snapping. Cody heard the kitchen door slam shut. His sister had made it outside.

Lucile faced Cody and Kenneth, her face a rictus stare. Heat brushed against Cody’s back.

His mother took a step forward. Her eyes blazed with fury.

“She slapped me,” Kenneth murmured. “Hard.”

She headed for them.

Before he knew what he was doing, Cody grabbed his father’s hand and raced back into the living room. The recliner was going up, and all the quilts. The skin on his arms began to pucker. He felt as if someone was pressing heated spoons on his arms.

“Hot, hot,” Kenneth wailed.

Cody stepped on something burning. His foot cramped and sizzled. He raced into the kitchen. The ceiling was burning. Smoke slammed into his throat and expanded into his lungs.

Hacking and coughing, he clung to his father’s hand. He reached the kitchen door and threw it open. They ran into the snowy backyard. Snow tumbled down; ghosts darted and swirled among the clots of white: the ghosts of secrets.

“Elle!” Cody shouted. “Elle!”

The fence gate was open, as it had been the morning he had found his dead mother.

Because he had opened it himself, about two hours before then.

After he had unlocked it.

“Cody!” Elle cried.

She was waiting on the other side of the fence. When Cody and Kenneth ran through the gate, she grabbed Cody in a hug. She was sobbing.

“Wait for Mom,” their father said, turning back to face the house. It was an inferno; flames shot up through the roof, surrounding the chimney.

“Cody,” Elle said into his ear. “Cody, I followed her out. I-I locked the gate. Cody, she was hitting him. Hurting him. I saw the bruises. I hated her.” She threw back her head. “I hated you!”

Cody’s father shuffled towards the blazing structure. Cody and Elle caught up with him. Each took a hand, restrained him.

“I’m so cold,” Kenneth said.

“I locked it, too,” Cody said to Elle. “It was unlocked, then. But I didn’t know what you know.”

“Then . . . why?” Elle asked. “Why did you do it?”

“My feet are stinging,” Kenneth informed them.

“I knew I had to,” Cody answered. He felt a fierce sort of joy. He hadn’t known why he was locking her out. He had hated her, but he didn’t have a reason to, as Elle did. He just knew she was the force that kept them frozen.

But now he had a reason. The best of reasons.

The ghost of his mother appeared before them in the snow. Elle started screaming.

“I’m sorry,” Kenneth said. “I’m so sorry.” He lifted his hand, taking Cody’s hand with him. He pantomimed locking the gate.

The ghost took a step towards the three Magnusens. And then . . . she turned to steam. Her body drifted apart, floating in the snow; the ice crystals hissed as they collided with her.

The house burned all the way down to the foundations, to ashes. Nothing left. By then, the fire trucks had clanged into action and the Magnusens were wrapped in thick yellow blankets. They were wearing dark blue mittens and drinking hot cocoa out of Styrofoam cups. Elle and Cody were hanging on to their father, holding him, Elle kissing his grizzled cheek over and over again.

“Daddy.” She sounded like a little girl.

“We’ll have to move,” Cody said, feeling dizzy. “Make some decisions.”

The wind whistled through the dark shapes behind them, forest green, hunter green, and tree-bark brown. The ghost glided among the trees, grey and charcoal on ash black on burned black. That ghost did not touch Cody either.

“I’m so cold,” his father said.

“We’re done with cold, Dad. It’s done,” Cody said.

“All done,” Elle agreed.

And his father gave them the ghost of a smile.

“All done,” he agreed, and drank his hot chocolate.

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Yvonne Navarro

Mara goes back to the only place she can think of.