The Tracks by Sally Royer-Derr (little readers TXT) 📕

“You know that’s not true. I’ll see you, all of you, again. Emily, I don’t want you to worry so much. Your mom needs you. I didn’t provide for her like I should have. I just never thought I’d die so young. Nobody ever does.”

“It’s not fair. And this week, Mom got sick.” My voice cracked. “I thought she was going to die, too.”

Dad shook his head. “No, it’s not her time yet. She has many more years with you. Believe me, I have it on good authority. But things are going to change in her life, and yours. Be open to change, Emily. Change is a part of life. It helps you grow as a person.”

“If you’re talking about Nick, forget it. I don’t want to even think about her with anyone but you.”

“I know. My earthly self wouldn’t either. But if she finds someone else to love, why is that a bad thing? You should be happy for her.”

I sighed. I studied my father’s face. He looked the same, but different, too. His eyes held the familiar twinkle, but also a calming serenity I didn’t recall seeing in the past. No worry. Just peace and a knowing of another world, a better world. He was right. I wanted Mom to be happy. Even if I hated change in my life, I still had to accept it when it came to me.

“Can you stay here with me? Can I see you here whenever I want, like I do with Tommy?”

He shook his head. “No, Tommy has some unfinished business here on Earth. That’s why he’s connected to you. But his connection made it possible for me to come see you one last time.”

Tears welled inside me again at those words. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I have to, Emily. There really is a heaven, and that’s my home now. Don’t worry, I’ll see you again.” He touched my face. “And remember I’ll always love you. My spirit lives on in you, my beautiful girl.”

My eyes burned with tears, shutting eyelids heavy against my face. I struggled to open them up to see him. But I couldn’t. I stretched out my arms to touch him. But was greeted by empty air all around me. Like a blind girl, I stumbled a few steps forward and fell onto the dry grass.

I lay there in the scratchy grass, listening to the sounds of the forest, certain I was going crazy. I talked to dead people more than people who were alive. I knew Dad was gone. For good this time. I’d never see him again. Not in this life. But my heart soared at having seen him one last time. Felt his touch. Heard his voice. Even if it was in my own warped reality. If I was going crazy, it was a happy insanity.

Suddenly, my eyes opened. Darkness surrounded me on my spot beside the creek. The cool evening air wrapped its inky grip around me as the deep croak of tree frogs filled the night. How much time had passed? It had only been early evening when I’d come here. Now, it must be at least nine or ten. I jumped up and ran back to the path toward the tracks. Wayward tree branches slapped at me as I increased my speed on the dim, moonlit path. Then something brought me to a stop.

It pulled me deeper into the darkness. Off the path. Stumbling over rocks and briars. My legs ran with a speed I hadn’t known before this time. But I didn’t control them. They seemed to have a life of their own. I moved fast in the blackness. The heavy canopy of trees blocked much of the moonlight trying to stream inside. I had no clue of where I was going, which was good because I ran in a black haze. Fear seeped through every part of my exhausted body. Mosquitoes nipped at me in the humid air, and tree branches cut at my exposed flesh. Even if I wanted to turn back to the path, I couldn’t fight the force propelling me forward.

I came to an abrupt stop. I looked around, my eyes adjusting to this brighter part of the woods. My body pulsated, and my hands shook. A noise startled me, and I turned around. He lay sprawled out in a bed of leafy green ferns. Blood dripped down his face.

I rushed to his side. “Tommy, can you hear me?”

His eyes fluttered, and he mumbled something inaudible.

I leaned closer. “Say it again.”

“Touch me,” he said in a weak whisper. “Touch the blood.”

I hesitated. I was the squeamish type, and touching someone else’s wound wasn’t something I’d normally do. But nothing was normal about this situation. It seemed pointless to me to touch him. How would it help him? I’d just end up with bloody hands. And I was confused why he was bleeding anyway. I didn’t think ghosts would bleed.

I placed my hand on his cool, bloodied skin gently. Heat formed between his skin and mine. A hot, intense, almost burning heat. I tried to pull my hand away. But I immobilized. The blood disappeared, seeping back into the open wound on his head. Then, I watched in amazement as the wound slowly closed. The skin on his previously gashed forehead returned, smooth and unharmed.

I jerked my hand back. Tommy’s eyes flew open, and he jumped up from the ground. I backed away, still holding my hand out in front of me. Confusion, and fear, raced through me.

“What the hell was that?” I yelled. My hand was still outstretched, like it wasn’t part of my body anymore.

“It’s okay, Emily,” he said. “Because of our connection, you have the power to heal me.”

“Power to heal you? You’re a ghost! How can you get hurt and bleed?

“I don’t know. This is the first