The next day was Saturday, and he decided to walk across town to Hal Hicks’s place. Hal had taught biology and algebra at the high school for thirty years and had retired a few years back when Ralph Stringer came in as principal. He was a good man and Norton’s best friend, and if there was anyone he could tell this craziness to it was Hal.

The farther Norton got from the house, the sillier the notion seemed, however, and before he was halfway there he had pretty well decided not to mention anything about Carole’s ghost. Around him, men were mowing their lawns, women were weeding flower beds, kids were riding up and down the sidewalk on bikes, trikes, and skates. Ahead, on Main, young couples and middle-aged women were shopping in the downtown business district. Here, in the real world, around other people, he started to believe again that it was all in his head, a figment of his imagination. There was no such thing as ghosts.

But Hermie had seen it.

He pushed that thought from his mind.

Hal was outside, in his yard, watering his fruit trees.

“Summer’s over,” Norton said, walking up.

“They still need their water.” Hal grinned. “Don’t mess with me on biology.”

Norton held up his hands in surrender.

“How you holding up?” Hal asked seriously.

He shrugged. Here at his friend’s all of a sudden, the events of the past few days no longer seemed quite so silly. He thought once again about telling Hal what was going on.

“Tough time sleeping?”

“Of course,” Norton told him.

“You look tired.” He put down the hose, walked over to the faucet, turned it off. “Come on in, I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

Norton followed his friend into the house. As always, there were piles of newspapers on the couch, leftover dishes on the dining-room table. Books were scattered everywhere.

He wondered if his house would look like this in a few years, as the female influence faded.

Probably.

They walked into the kitchen. Norton sat down at the table in the breakfast nook while Hal dumped the old grounds out of the Mr. Coffee machine and put in a new filter.

Norton just came out and said it: “Do you believe in ghosts?”

He surprised even himself by bringing it up, but he did not backtrack, and he watched Hal’s hands as his friend measured out the coffee, not wanting to see the expression on his face.

Hal poured a potful of water into the machine, switched it on, and walked over to the table, wiping his hands on his pants. He sat down, stared at his friend levelly. “Have you felt Carole’s presence?”

Norton nodded. He wanted to retract what he’d said, wanted to pretend this was all a joke, wanted to get off this subject, but he couldn’t. “Yes.”