#Wattys2015 The Ghost of James Fitzpatrick

Chapter 25

The rest of the ten minute bike ride home was quiet. Lucy and Sarah, at least when teamed up, could find irrational humor in many situations they had found themselves in over the years. This time though, Sarah knew, and Lucy suspected, that they had found themselves in a situation that could have been grim.

Mr. Zwicki could have called the police, or worse, but Sarah didn't want to dwell on the 'worse'

At Riverside and 4th Street, the girls, now riding tandem, divided themselves like a split end and rolled down different streets.

"See you on the bus," said Lucy.

Sarah let go of her hands on the straight away of Riverside and sat up straight on her bicycle. Her mind was in several places, none of them where it should be.

She had two tests coming up this week; a pre-calc test on Chapter 6 (she was still working on the study guide) and in Art History, (easy). A five page, single spaced report and bibliography on George Orwell's Animal Farm was also due on Thursday, and Sarah had not yet started her paper.

Every other thought that traipsed through her mind lately had first and foremost to do with James, and if not James, then certainly Mr. Zwicki.

She had had no luck locating James' mother, Mary, in Missouri, yet this was obviously the most important task presented to her by James. It was, in fact, the only task set forth by him, and she was out climbing around Principal Zwicki's back yard.

Mrs. Miller had mentioned that James' mother and brother had moved downstate a bit into southern Missouri, but the state of Missouri had yielded no leads for Sarah, even the densely populated St. Louis and Springfield areas, but perhaps they had kept going further south? Into northern Arkansas? Or Louisiana?

And the thought had certainly crossed Sarah's mind that Mrs. Mary Fitzpatrick could have died of old age, or of anything within the last thirty seven years. If alive, she would be about Father Vincent's age, but perhaps , Sarah thought, she should instead be searching for James' little brother Tom.

Somehow Sarah knew though, that Mrs. Fitzpatrick was still alive, because James sensed she was. He had never mentioned the 'what if' to her. He fully expected her to be living. Maybe James just knew what he was supposed to do. He was to bring peace to his mother and even his brother. All the years that had passed for them, but not for James, were not important. The time wasn't important. It had no meaning. They were still simply a mother and sons and brothers who loved one another; a year ago, thirty seven years ago, or a thousand years from now.

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