THREE
After dinner, I check my phone. I have about forty-five minutes to make it to the meeting point.
Daddy is on the sofa, dozing off after some good food and a long drive. I step into the kitchen, where Lena is putting away dishes while Robby helps her dry them.
“Hey, Lena, can you point me in the direction of the bus?”
She cocks her head with a frown and looks out the window as if searching for the sun that is about to set.
“Um. Well, where you off to, Miss Harmony?” Lena asks, trying to sound innocent.
“I’m going on a ghost tour.”
Hand on hip, she moans, “Oh Lawd. Not those silly things. You really want to waste your time on that? You haven’t even been on a real tour of Savannah yet.”
I repeat something a ghost tour guide said in Nashville. “You can learn a lot from the dead about their city.”
She looks at me like I have five heads. Robby snickers.
But it’s true. On ghost tours, you find out about the real nitty-gritty stuff that happened. Stuff they’d never say on the Disneyland-type tours.
Lena shakes her head. “Those people don’t know what they’re talking about. They’re making stuff up, taking tourists’ money, and messing with spirits.”
I stare at her and stay silent. Does she think that’s going to change my mind?
She wipes her hands and steps into the living room.
“Albert!” she shouts, and Dad jerks awake.
“Hmm. Huh? What?”
Lena crosses her arms. “Are you really going to let Harmony go off on her own to some ghost tour? She’s a young girl.”
Dad yawns. “Stuff gives me the heebie-jeebies, but she’s into it. Can’t hurt. Plus, I trust her. She’s built Harlem tough.”
I smile at Dad. We’ve become so tight over the last six months on the road, I guess since all we have is each other. He respects me. He thinks I’m old enough. And that’s all that matters.
“Well, all right, I guess,” Lena mumbles. “There’s a bus stop on the corner, Harmony.”
“Thanks,” I say, grabbing my camera bag.
Robby rushes to his mother’s side, hopping up and down. “Mama, can I go too?”
Lena shakes her head. “Absolutely not. That stuff is too mature for you, buddy. And it’s getting late. You haven’t taken your shower or your vitamins or said your prayers or—”
Robby groans. “Mommmmm.”
“Let the young man live a little,” Dad says with a laugh. “Harmony got him. Those tours are harmless, Lena. Let the kids have fun!”
Lena rubs her arms, looking unsure. Her hands are even shaking a little. “Al … I don’t think they should be taking the bus so late. Especially after—”
She stops herself, and I know she must be thinking about her friend Tim Truman and his nephew. Which I kind of understand. It is creepy. But ghost tours are safe.
“How about Albert and I go with you?” Lena suggests. “We won’t follow you on the tour, but we’ll stay somewhere close by, just in case. Maybe we’ll get ice cream or something. When you’re done, we’ll pick you up. How’s that?”
From the nervousness in her eyes, I can tell she’s trying to play it cool but is really freaking out.
I sigh and look over at Dad. He nods.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s go.”
“Yes!” Robby jumps in the air and runs to put on his sneakers.
“Did you know there are twenty-two historic squares in Savannah?” Robby asks in the back seat as Dad drives us through downtown Savannah. I was lucky enough to cop Robby the last ticket for the tour. So used to being alone on these treks, I honestly don’t mind the company.
“I do now,” I say. Each square is like its own little park, with lawns, bushes, flowers, and plenty of those live oak trees.
We drive past Forsyth Park, the largest park in the city. Kinda like what Central Park is in New York. It has a giant bowl-shaped fountain that is lit up at night.
I take out my camera and try to steal a few shots from the car.
“Oh! So you’re into photography?” Lena asks. “Of course you are. I remember that your mom loved taking photos too.”
An uneasiness prickles at my side. “How did you know my mom?” I ask.
Dad locks eyes with me in the rearview mirror, then focuses back on the road.
Lena takes a breath, like she’s steadying herself. “I met her at one of your father’s shows, maybe a year before she had you. She loved Savannah.” She pauses, then adds, “I know you will too.”
Daddy gives Lena a quick look that he thinks I don’t catch. I put my camera away and gaze out the window, staying silent.
Daddy finds parking. The streets are packed with people heading down to River Street.
“All right now, you two stay real close together,” Lena says as we get out of the car.
“Yes, ma’am,” Robby says.
“I mean it, now. Don’t go venturing off alone.” She grabs Robby close and pulls him into a tight hug, showering his head with kisses.
I give Dad a look, mouthing, Can she chill?
Daddy coughs over his laugh and tucks his chin. “You know the drill, Mony love. You got your phone? Your bag?”
“Yup.”
Robby wiggles away from Lena and grabs my hand, pulling. “Come on!”
Dad softly takes Lena’s arm. “You promised me ice cream, woman.”
Lena bites her lip and looks at me. “Just … keep an eye on Robby, will you?” she whispers to me. “His brain is sharp, but his eyes may not be.”
I give her the thumbs-up. “Got it. See you guys later.”
I watch Lena and Dad walk away, trying to ignore the pinching in my gut. They look like they’re on a date. Not holding hands, but it almost feels like they don’t need to.
I lead Robby over to Madison Square (not to be confused with Madison Square Garden in New York, where my Knicks play basketball). We sit down on a dark green bench to wait.
Redbrick paths cut into a square that is surrounded by beautiful historic homes, with a church on the corner. Grandma would say that’s a good sign. In the center of the square is a large bronze statue of a man holding up a flag. The curly live oak tree branches seem to be bowing toward him.
“You sure this is the right spot?” Robby asks.
I check the confirmation email. “It says to meet at eight thirty. ‘Your tour guide will arrive, wearing a green Orbs and More tour vest.’ ”
“Orbs and More?” Robby scoffs. “Oh brother.”
“What? I thought you wanted to go on a ghost tour.”
“I wanted to get out the house for a change. Ain’t like this stuff is real.”
I roll my eyes, annoyed that I wasted money on his ticket, even though Dad will pay me back.
“You know ghosts aren’t real, right?” Robby adds.
That’s the thing. I don’t know. Or I don’t know for sure, for sure.
All I know is something happened back in my apartment.
And it’s hard to ignore all the evidence that says ghosts are real.
Well, at least the evidence I’ve seen on these tours.
I just need something … a sign … to make me believe for real.
“It’s people making up stories,” Robby continues.
I wipe my glasses clean. “Pfft. Your mom told you that?”
“Yes. Plus, it’s a scientific fact. I’ve done the research.”
“I bet you have,” I laugh.
Robby scowls. “If I told you this bench was haunted, would you believe me?”
“It’s funny you should say that,” says a voice behind us.
We spin around. A skinny young guy stands there with a thick black binder under his arm.
“There’ve been reports of a woman,” the guy goes on. “Dressed in Victorian garb, seen weeping on that very bench. But when people look away for even a split second, she disappears.”
I jump to my feet, grabbing Robby up with me.
“Ow,” he hisses, snatching his arm back.
The guy smiles. “I’m Asher. Are you two here for tonight’s walk?”
“Wait, you’re our tour guide?” Robby asks in disbelief, and I don’t blame him.
I’m used to old men leading these tours, some dressed in capes with top hats or carrying old-timey lanterns.
Asher has on a T-shirt and cargo shorts with a backward baseball cap.
He’s maybe college age, with a mop of dark curly hair and bushy eyebrows.
If it wasn’t for his bright green vest that says ORBS AND MORE, I wouldn’t believe him.
“The one and only,” Asher says. “But! Are you two sure you’re old enough to do this?”
“I’ve skipped two grades,” Robby says with a huff. “I think I can handle a little story time at the park.”
I roll my eyes and pull out a folded note. “I have a permission slip.”
Asher waves his hand. “No need for that. I invite all people to learn about the paranormal. Including little ones.”
Robby grumbles under his breath and I hold in a snicker.
“Hey, are we gonna get this party started or what?” a scruffy voice barks behind us.
I turn to see the group of adults waiting for the tour to start.
I always check out the people on these tours, hoping to see someone who looks like me.
Tonight, it’s about fifteen people, some old, some college age, some Daddy’s age …
all white. You don’t see many Black people on ghost tours.
As Aunt Peggy says, “We don’t mess with that spirit stuff.
” We don’t go investigating strange sounds in horror movies, fool around with witchcraft, or conjure things.
So, I’m pretty much like an alien sighting on these tours.
Asher clears his throat and hops up onto the bench.
“If you’re here for the ghost tour, please gather around!
” he calls. The group forms a semicircle as he begins his intro.
“My name is Asher Livingston, and WELCOME to Orbs and More, the leading ghost tour experience in Savannah! You could have been anywhere in the city, but you’re with us and we thank you! ”
Asher talks all hyped up like he ate ten Pixy Stix for dinner and he can’t seem to stand still.
“Tonight! During our two-hour walking tour, we’ll pass by some historic haunts, including a cemetery and legendary squares like this one.”
“Um, kid, no offense,” the scruffy voice man says, “but you seem a little young to be doing this.”
At first, I thought he was talking to me, but he’s looking straight at Asher with a skeptical eyebrow raised. Glad Robby and I weren’t the only ones doubting his skills.