Page 3 of Ghost in the Night

Savannah,Georgia, is one of the oldest cities in the United States,’?” I read out loud from the travel guide on my phone. “?‘Millions of visitors are attracted to its historic homes, cobblestone streets, and parks. Tourists especially love River Street. The waterfront promenade is home to some of the world’s best restaurants, bars, shops, and cafés—’?”

“River Street’s where the club’s at,” Daddy says from behind the wheel of our SUV. “On the top floor of a barbecue spot. They got some meannnn ribs and hush puppiesup in that joint. Now, get off that phone before you miss this view!”

Daddy drives across a long gray-white bridge with cables that look like violin strings hovering over a murky river. I roll down the window and let the breeze in. It’s early June and hot, but the air has a crispness to it.

“So, you’re gonna be playing there every night?” I ask.

“Got a few lunchtime shows too. It’s good business here, love. We’re gonna like it.”

Daddy plays guitar for a blues band. They call themselves the Remedies. His guitar is one of those old-fashioned kinds that real blues players play on. Or that’s what he likes to say.

Once off the bridge, we drive straight into downtown Savannah. That travel guide wasn’t playing—this place is real pretty! The streets are narrow, with tall houses that remind me of brownstones back home, except these are painted blue, white, green, orange, and gold. Some have iron balconies, like the ones I saw in New Orleans, and real fire lanterns that are probably older than the Civil War.Horse-drawn carriages click-clack through the streets, and the sidewalks are crowded with tourists.

And the trees! They’re so tall and wide, branches all twisted and tangled, bowing into the roads. It feels like we’re driving under a ceiling of fuzzy moss streamers. I take out my camera and start clicking. Everything is so green, like the entire city is shaded by a forest that’s still growing.

“What the …”

Daddy’s confused voice makes my head snap in his direction. At an intersection, a black hearse slowly crosses in front of us. Except in the back, where the casket would be, the roof  is cut open. People are sitting in it like it’s a double-decker tour bus going through Times Square. I read the red writing on the car’s side:HEARSE GHOST TOURS.

A ghost tour!

“Oh boy,” Daddy mumbles as I whip out my phone and Google.

“?‘Savannah, Georgia, is widely considered to be one of the most haunted cities in the United States,’?” I read outloud. “?‘Many visitors and locals have had paranormal experiences in historic buildings and cemeteries …’?”

There’s a long list of ghost tours. I click on each one, hoping to find a tour available, but most of them are booked up solid for the week.

All except one called Orbs and More. With Daddy’s permission, I make myself a reservation for tonight. I can’t wait!

The longer Daddy drives, the more homes we see, but not like the ones downtown. We’re in a more normal neighborhood now, with regular stores, way more Black people, and zero tourists.

Daddy turns down a quiet street and pulls up in front of a redbrick house with a white porch.

“What’s this?” I ask as I tip up my glasses. “We’re staying … here?”

Daddy smooths his eyebrows in the mirror. “Since we gonna be in Savannah for six weeks, I figured we might as well get comfortable and stay in a home. It’ll be like our own place.”

Daddy opens the car door before I have a chance to ask another question. Grandma would say,“When Daddy can’t look you in the eye, he’s up to something.”

What is he hiding?

But then I see it. On the porch, there’s a woman standing at the steps. She’s thin and pretty, brown-skinned with a sprinkle of  black moles on her cheeks, her hair in short coil curls like my aunt Peggy used to get. Next to her is a little boy wearing a yellow Marvel T-shirt and jean shorts. He’s like her twin in glasses. The woman waves at us, a little hesitantly.

I watch Daddy greet the woman with a type of hug that says they haven’t seen each other in a really long time. The woman looks … upset, wiping away tears. I wonder what that’s about. Daddy talks softly to her as if he’s trying to comfort her the way he did me at Grandma’s funeral. I don’t even realize I’m holding my breath while watching them.

Don’t bug out,I tell myself. She could be cool.

But can anything be cool in this heat? Without the breeze from the river, I now feel how hot it really is inSavannah. Stay out here too long and it’ll feel like we’re baking on the sidewalk.

“Harmony,” Daddy says as I join him. “This is my friend Lena.”

“Hey, Harmony,” Lena says with a sniff. “Real nice to meet you.”

Don’t seem like it’s too nice.

“And this little man is Robert,” Daddy says, motioning to the boy. “What’s up, Robert!”

“I go by Robby,” the boy says, all matter-of-fact.