#Wattys2015 The Ghost of James Fitzpatrick

Chapter 15

James left just after her mother had entered her room, typical ghost, Sarah thought smiling to herself. Mostly, Sarah was immensely relieved that James had been able to pen the letter to his mother. She knew how important it was to him.

James wrote it out himself, and Sarah folded it in thirds to put in an envelope. James did not ask her to read it or not read it, but out of respect for his privacy, and that of his family's, Sarah had simply placed it in the envelope and tacked it closed with a little spit from her tongue.

What was important now, was finding Mrs. Mary Fitzpatrick. Sarah knew that getting caught being home from school unannounced had upset her mother, not because she was home, but she was certain her mother knew she had lied about not feeling well, and Sarah would continue to add lies to the growing stack.

She and her mother had an easy relationship, with none of the 'crying and slamming doors' drama as she often saw at Lucy's house. She knew her mother was currently a little agitated with her, and Sarah's best guess was that her mom was perhaps waiting until her father arrived back in town to have a talk.

Sarah decided to begin her search for Mary Fitzpatrick right away this afternoon via the Netherby's paper phone book from the kitchen for very local listings, but coming up zero, quickly decided to open her laptop for a more efficient search. She recalled her neighbor, Mrs. Miller, saying she thought Mrs. Fitzpatrick and her son Tom had moved north toward St. Louis.

Before she began her search, Sarah wanted a glimpse of James' world. She pulled up Youtube, searched for 'hits of 1978' and found just that: '100 Most Popular Songs of 1978'.

First up was The Bee Gees, 'How Deep is Your Love,' with a video starring a super, sappy looking, young John Travolta. Sarah let it play while she toggled to another screen to research.

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Linda Netherby was certain she heard the strains of Neil Diamond's 'Desiree' coming from Sarah's room, which made her curious, because a little earlier she had heard Weisberg and Fogelberg singing 'The Power of Gold'.

She stuck her head in Sarah's door, "Stop, my ears are bleeding," she said trying to make light of their tension. "I already had to live through those songs once."

"Hi mom," Sarah said turning away from her desk and laptop, "It is..." Sarah took a look at her computer screen, "the 100 greatest hits of 1978," she said.

"Of course," said Linda, "what every teenage girl wants to listen to while she does her homework." Linda smiled at her daughter, "Hey, I'm going to work on some paperwork for your dad tonight while he's gone. I need you to make dinner."

"Sure," said Sarah, "I'll head downstairs in a few minutes. I'm just going to finish up something here."

"Just make your world famous Saraghetti" said Linda. There was absolutely nothing special about Sarahghetti. It was simply spaghetti with Ragu Sauce right out of the jar. It was the dish that Sarah, as a little girl, often helped her mother make.

"Ok mom," Sarah smiled as her mother walked out the door.

Sarah picked up her cell phone, then toggled the computer back to the screen she was reading while listening to the music, which by the way she was so far not impressed with, with only a few notable exceptions.

The screen on her computer was that of the online White Pages, and the name in the 'search' line was, Last Name: Fitzpatrick, First Name: Mary. Right about now, Sarah had found about a hundred Mary Fitzpatricks and she was wishing James Fitzpatrick's mother's name was Xavier Rasputin.

"Hi, my name is Sarah Netherby," said Sarah quietly into her cell phone, "and I'm trying to locate a particular Mary Fitzpatrick...yes, hi Mrs. Fitzpatrick...I'm wondering if you could tell me, were you ever a resident of Arden, Missouri?...no, ok, no, I'm looking for just that Mrs. Fitzpatrick in particular, but thank you...sorry to bother you...yes, goodbye."

Sarah clicked off her phone and crossed another Mary from her list. She dialed another number as her mother eavesdropped from outside her door.

This practice went against Linda Netherby's grain, this practice of eavesdropping. She thought of something she had read years ago: 'If a man set himself to listen though a window to what was going on in a house, he had to stand so close that the eavesdroppings (or water from the roof above) would fall upon him, while he sought by secret means what he had no business to know, came to be called eavesdropping, a punishable crime."

Nonetheless, Linda remained and listened as her daughter began yet another conversation: "Hi, my name is Sarah Netherby, and I'm trying to locate a particular Mary Fitzpatrick who used to live in Arden, Missouri?"

As Sarah, her mother, and Josh sat around the table twirling their hot Saraghetti onto forks, there was no sound but that of silverware clinking on dishes and Josh slurping his milk. Linda Netherby finally broke the silence. She set her fork down and folded her hands beneath her chin as she looked at Sarah.

"There's something going on here, and I can't for the life of me figure out what it is, but I'm going to ask you a question, Sarah, and I want you to really think about how you're going to answer me, and I would like you to answer me appropriately" said Linda.

Sarah just set her fork down and looked at her mother. Josh took in the scene, and satisfied it did not involve him, kept eating.

"As far as I'm aware, you have never lied to me before, and that being said, I'd like you to tell me who Mary Fitzpatrick is."

Sarah and her mother stared at one another for a moment. Sarah's mind was racing, and so was her heart. She put her napkin on the table and picked up her plate.

"I'd like to be excused, please," she said as she stood up. Sarah set her dishes in the sink and walked away toward the stairs leading up to her bedroom.

Linda Netherby leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. She sighed deeply and looked at Josh who was shoveling spaghetti into his mouth. He looked up when he realized he was being watched, swallowed, and wiped his mouth.

"Do you want that last piece of garlic bread?" he asked.

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