She looked offended.
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You were considering it.”
“I consider many things.”
“Clara.”
She placed the half down.
“All right.”
Samuel picked up both pieces and carried them outside.
He set them on the snow twenty feet from the cabin.
“If it belongs to a ghost,” he said, “the ghost can have it back.”
Clara stood in the doorway wrapped in a blanket.
“Ghosts probably don’t eat cabbage.”
“Then I’ve outsmarted one.”
“You are brave in ways nobody has accused you of.”
He returned inside.
The door closed.
The bolt dropped.
They did not laugh again that night.
Samuel woke three times.
The first to wind.
The second to Clara turning heavily beside him.
The third to a sound.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
He opened his eyes.
Darkness.
The fire had burned to coals.
Clara slept on her side facing the wall.
Tap.
Samuel sat up.
The sound came again.
Not from outside.
Inside.
From somewhere near the pantry.
He slipped from bed.
Cold boards bit his feet.
He reached for the rifle leaning against the wall.
The weapon was an old flintlock with more scratches than polish, but Samuel maintained it carefully.
He crossed the room.
Tap.
He stopped.
“Samuel?”
Clara was awake.
“Stay there.”
“No.”
The mattress shifted.
“Clara.”
“I am not staying in bed while you investigate mysterious tapping.”
“That is exactly what you are doing.”
“No.”
He knew that tone.
Argument would produce more noise than whatever haunted the pantry.
Samuel lit a candle.
Clara pulled a heavy shawl around herself and followed.
The tapping stopped.
They reached the pantry.
Door closed.
Samuel looked at Clara.
She nodded.
He opened it.
Nothing.
Flour.
Beans.
Cornbread.
Salt pork.
No cabbage.
Samuel released a breath.
Clara pointed.
“What is that?”
On the shelf where the cabbage had been sat one red apple.
Samuel stared.
Clara whispered:
“We had no apples.”
“No.”
“Not since November.”
“No.”
The apple was polished.
Perfect.
A tiny green leaf remained attached to its stem.
Samuel slowly shut the pantry door.
“I prefer the cabbage.”
Clara almost laughed.
Almost.
The apple remained on the shelf until morning.
Neither touched it.
At daylight Samuel carried it outside using a kitchen cloth.
The cabbage from the previous night was gone.
He stopped in the snow.