The Ghost's Grave by Peg Kehret Page B

“I don’t like to go places that I never went while I was alive,” he said, “and I never went to Florence’s house, but I’ll make you a deal. I’ll go there for you if you’ll do something for me.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œDig up my leg bones, then bury them where the rest of me is buried.”
    â€œI can’t do that. There are laws against digging up graves.”
    â€œYou don’t have to announce it to the sheriff. All you have to do is get a shovel, go there alone, and dig.”
    â€œWhat if somebody saw me?”
    Oh man, I thought, as I imagined the police calling Mom to say I’d been arrested for grave robbery. My palms started to sweat just thinking about it.
    â€œYou can do it at night. Nobody’s there at night. Nobody’s there in the daytime, either, most of the time. That graveyard is not exactly a lively place.” His eyes crinkled at the edges, and I could tell he wanted me to acknowledge his joke.
    I shook my head. “No way,” I said. “I’m not sneaking into a cemetery at night, or any other time, to dig up one of the graves. It’s too risky.”
    â€œWill you at least go to the cemetery and find where my leg’s buried? You can look around, see how easy it would be, and then decide.”
    After what Willie had told me, I was curious about the cemetery. I wanted to see the row of gravestones all with the same date of death, and I wondered what it said on his leg’s gravestone. HERE LIES THE LEG OF WILLIE MARTIN ? Or BELOVED LEG ?
    â€œI guess I could look at the grave.” I didn’t mind agreeing to that. I had no intention of digging anywhere,but there’s no law against looking around in a cemetery.
    â€œGood,” Willie said. “Let’s go.” He pointed out the door. “You can walk there on the old railroad bed.”
    â€œI can’t do it now; I have to get home. Aunt Ethel will worry if I stay away too long. I’ll go to the cemetery tomorrow morning.”
    â€œAfter you’ve been there, I’ll show you where the rest of me is buried, so you’ll know where to take the leg bones.”
    â€œI’m only going to look at the grave, Willie. I’m not going to dig up your leg bones.”
    â€œI wonder if the peacock would know me,” he said. “I thought you were curious.”
    â€œI’m not curious enough to get myself arrested.”
    We stared at each other for several seconds while his sad eyes pleaded silently.
    â€œYou’re my only hope,” he said. “I wanted to ask Florence to do it, but she got scared and quit coming here before I got up my nerve to ask her.”
    â€œIt only took you about fifteen minutes to ask me.”
    â€œI’ve been waiting all these years for someone else I could ask, someone who can hear me. That’s one reason I started spending time in the library. I thought people who read ghost stories might be able to see me, so I hung around the supernatural sectionwaiting to be noticed, but it never happened.”
    I envisioned Willie, waiting and hoping for so many years. It made me sad.
    â€œAll these years,” Willie said, “I’ve told myself that if I ever meet a living person who can hear and see me, I’ll ask for their help right away. I won’t take a chance that they’ll leave and not return, like Florence did. Now here you are, the only one who can help me. If you won’t do it, it might be another fifty years before anyone else sees me.”
    Ten minutes earlier, when I first saw Willie, I had been scared silly. Now I felt sorry for him.
    â€œI’ll think about it,” I said.
    The ghost smiled at me. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said just before he vanished.
    I looked out the window but saw only the woods. No old coal miner.
    I took a deep breath. I knew why I’d agreed to go to the cemetery. Besides being curious about the