Estelle turns her back to them and John bends down close to Shelly and whispers, “I don’t think she’s lost.”

Shelly suppresses a laugh. Estelle doesn’t seem like the kind of ghost who’d like being laughed at.

“No,” Grandma agrees, matching John’s tone. “She’s exactly where she wants to be.”

“Darn tootin’,” says Estelle. “I know where I’m going, make no mistake. I didn’t take orders from anyone when I was alive and I’m certainly not going to start now I’m dead. I’ll move along in my own time.”

Grandma smiles at Estelle. “You take your time,” she says. “Go when you’re ready and let me know if you need help.”

“Help!” Estelle scoffs and plants her hands on her hips. “I think I can figure out death on my own.”

“You see?” Grandma says, leading Shelly and John away from Estelle’s grave. “Ghosts in places like this—they know their business most of the time.”

“Are they always that rude?” Shelly asks, looking up at Grandma. Joseph was more interesting than John, who’s hooked on the ends of Grandma’s hair, and nicer than Estelle. Shelly would rather go back and talk to him more.

“Not usually,” says Grandma. “She’s a special case.”

“I’m sorry?” says John. “Ghosts? Did she say she was dead? Did she—” He pauses and raises his hands, peering at the way they’re slightly translucent. Shelly can see the grass and the graves on the other side of him plain as looking through a dirty window. “Oh,” he says. “I suppose she did.”

Grandma looks at John. “Do you want to stay here?”

“No,” he says. “No, I don’t think so. I think I want to go. I think I want— They say it’s the next great adventure. It’s a great mystery, isn’t it? That’s exciting. You know, it’s been a long time since I went somewhere new.”

As they walk toward the cemetery gates, John leaves them—going wherever his next, new place is.

“See? There are as many different kinds of ghosts as there are people,” says Grandma. “Nobody’s life is the same and nobody’s death is the same. That’s all it boils down to.”

It feels bigger than that to Shelly. She knows ghosts, has talked and played with the dead, but whatever comes next, whatever’s after ghosts—that looms in her mind whenever someone like John Francis German moves on. Shelly can’t help wondering what it’s like, what’s really there, and why more people don’t stay behind.

5