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and I
never came up with an answer.”
    “A girl knows when she is raped,
Micah.”
    Micah scratched his head. “She was
only fourteen, but yeah, she sure knew how to describe it in detail at the
trial.”
    “You must have hurt her.”
    “Fell in love with her older
sister.”
    “You cheated on her?”
    “No. I mean I dated the older
sister. Then one day the little sister announced I had raped her. Next thing, I
was in jail. Then a trial. My word against hers. Jury believed her. I got ten-to-fifteen.
Parole board refused parole. It was such a horrible crime because she was
jailbait, and I never acknowledged my guilt, so I served the full fifteen.”
    Denise placed her hands in her
pockets. “She never recanted her story?”
    “Nope.”
    “You must have done something.”
    Micah grabbed Denise by the
shoulders. “Yeah, I lived with real thieves, robbers, murderers and rapists.”
    Denise shoved him away.

Chapter 8
    The ghost of the pioneer woman sat
in an ethereal rocking chair and knitted in the corner of Micah’s front
bedroom.
    Across the room, Denise scrunched
her nose at Micah. “Your paint smells too much of plastic for my taste.”
    “You don’t like the smell of
paint?” In his left hand Micah held a coffee can half filled with dark red,
almost maroon wall paint. The brush in his right hand dripped excess paint.
    Denise waved her hand at the ghost.
“Go.”
    The ghost hissed at Denise while
holding her ground.
    Denise punched Micah on the
shoulder. “Hurry. You’re coming with me.”
    “Okay, let me grab a towel and change
of clothes first. Where are you taking me?”
    “You’ll know when we get there.”
    “But first the shower.” Micah
pointed down the hall.
     “May I shower with you?”
    “Aren’t we in a hurry?”
    “Okay, shower by yourself if you
want. I already showered anyway. I’m sure Fritz enjoyed leering at me. By the
way, how long has she been here?” Denise waved a hand in the direction of the
spirit. “You okay, honey?”
    “She doesn’t speak. She watches but
she doesn’t try to communicate.”
    Denise spun in Micah’s direction
and pointed a thumb over her shoulder towards the ghost. “She hissed at me a
minute ago. Didn’t you see her do it?”
    “Not with my back to her while I
painted the wall. Maybe she’s jealous.”
    “Why is she dressed like that?”
    “She’s a pioneer ghost.”
    “You’re kidding.” Turning to the
ghost, Denise said, “Hey, sweetheart, what are you doing here?”
    The ghost stood up, hissed and
disappeared.
    “I don’t think she likes you.” Micah
shook his head back and forth a few times and then placed the coffee can with
the paint in the corner of the room and the brush in a container of water. He
placed a plastic lid over the can.
    “I could cast a spell on the paint
and make it cover the wall while we’re out.”
    “Naw, it would leave brush marks. I
won’t be long.”
    In less than an hour, Denise pulled
into the parking lot at Ulysses S. Grant High School. It was after five in the
afternoon, but the lot was filled with cars.
    “My alma mater,” Micah said.
    “Yeah, mine, too, but I’m about
twenty years after you.”
    “Better make that ten. I’m coming
up on my high school class’s twentieth anniversary and as young as you are,
you’re not eighteen.”
    Denise poked Micah on the arm. “When
I say I’m twenty years younger, I mean twenty, not ten. Just for that, you can
take me out to dinner afterwards. Or before. Your choice.”
    “After or before what?”
    “After the presentation. I promised
Ahlman I would be here when he presented the check to the school.
    “So that’s what this is about. Who
is this guy Ahlman anyway?”
    “If you met him, you’d know.”
    The couple emerged from Denise’s
late model silver Chevy Malibu. They strolled to the building’s main entrance.
    Micah opened the glass front door. “I
met him at Bob’s Coffee Emporium. He seems a bit odd to me.”
    “He’s an