Ghost at Work Read Free

again, some”—Wiggins didn’t name names, such as Bailey Ruth—“might find it a struggle not to revert.”
    â€œI see.” This useful phrase had seen me through many puzzling moments on earth. Revert to what?
    â€œSo”—now he was brisk—“should we enlist you—”
    Was I going to be given rank and serial number?
    â€œâ€”it will be with the clear understanding that your mission is for others, not yourself. Moreover, we will go over the Precepts before you depart. Now, where would you like to go?” His brown eyes were sharp.
    I had a moment of inspiration. “Where would you like to send me?”
    â€œBailey Ruth”—approval radiated from him—“that reflects a splendid understanding of our program.” Wiggins reached for another folder.
    I basked in a glow of rectitude. Certainly I was not in this for myself. I felt noble. I would charge forth and do my best wherever I might be sent. I bade a silent, regretful farewell to visions of Paris. London, perhaps?
    â€œWe’ve given some thought to the matter.” He was thumbing through several sheets that looked to be densely typewritten. “It seems quite likely that for your first task you would feel more comfortable in familiar surroundings. We are sending you to Adelaide.” He was as pleased as if he’d presented me with a beribboned box of Whitman’s Samplers. Whitman’s Samplers were always a favorite in Daddy’s drugstore. I wondered if the store was still there…
    Even though Adelaide, Oklahoma, pop. 16,236, was a long wayfrom Paris or London, I smiled and felt a quiver of anticipation. I loved Adelaide and its rolling hills and soft-voiced people, Mississippi kites making watchful circles in a hot August sky, sleet crackling against windowpanes in February. It wasn’t Paris or London, but I’d do my best. Would I know anyone? Of course, my daughter, Dil, lives there. It would be such fun to pop in on Dil—
    â€œFirst, however”—his tone was emphatic—“you must master the Precepts.” He waggled a roll of parchment. “After you have familiarized yourself with them, we’ll have another visit and I’ll give you your specific assignment.” He bent his head forward, looked at me sternly. “You will be on probation as you undertake your first task.”
    I almost whipped back a quick “Not to worry,” but decided upon looking into his serious brown eyes that he might not appreciate snappy retorts. Instead I simply repeated approvingly, “On probation.”
    The tension eased from his face. “That’s the right attitude. You will find that attitude is everything, Bailey Ruth.”
    I couldn’t have agreed more. It was my job to be sure he had the right attitude about me. I nodded soberly.
    â€œIf you successfully complete this assignment, we will welcome you as a full-fledged emissary.” He pushed up the rim of his eyeshade, looking perplexed. “I suppose…” The words trailed off. He gave a shake of his head, his mustache quivering. “I scarcely like to bring this up. I find the topic distasteful.” He looked pained.
    I attempted to look pained as well, though I had no idea what dreadful behavior we were contemplating.
    â€œGhosts.” He pursed his lips in disapproval. “I deplore that characterization of a Heavenly resident dispatched to be of service.”
    I offered quickly, “We aren’t ghosts.” I tried to keep the hint of a query from my voice.
    He thumped a great fist on his desk and folders bounced. “Precisely. Never. Stories of apparitions and rattling chains foment the most inaccurate imaginings on earth. It is of foremost importancethat you do not, in the pursuit of your duties, create situations that will further these mistaken beliefs.”
    â€œOh.” I was fervent. “I would never do