I’ve written a North Dakota-y ghost story for the past few Halloweens – here’s one and here’s another – and in the spirit (wooooooooo) of keeping that going, here’s yet another. I hope you enjoy it; Happy Halloween!
Potatoes
by Amanda Kosior
Kiersten looked at her phone, considered sending the call to voicemail for the third time that week, and answered.
“We’re hosting a supper fundraiser to raise money for the new veterans memorial,” Donna Jo told Kiersten.
“That’s nice,” she said, already knowing where this was going.
“And we’d appreciate it so much,” Donna Jo said, “so, so much, if you’d make your knoephla soup.”
“What would you think about my chicken dumpling soup instead?” Kiersten asked, figuring she’d give it the old college try.
“Oh, well, we –” Donna Jo started.
“Or beer cheese soup?” Kiersten tried again. “Or creamy taco?”
Donna Jo cleared her throat.
“French onion?” Kiersten said, quietly.
“It’s just that everyone loves your knoephla,” Donna Jo said. “In fact, the Heggens said they’d match whatever is raised that night if they could get two bowls there and two bowls to go.”
“Are you sure they want knoephla, though?” Kiersten tried one more time. “Because I made it for the backpack drive last month, and Jackie Wilcox’s surgery fundraiser the month before that, and the arts center thing the month before that. I’m sure you remember that the Heggens were at all three of those.”
“It’s just that everyone loves your knoephla,” Donna Jo repeated.
Kiersten sighed.
“Okay,” she said. “Knoephla.”
“You are a joy,” Donna Jo said, elated. “Your Aunt Serine would be so proud. Your knoephla soup is better than hers, and hers was the best anyone’d ever had before that.”
“That’s what I’ve heard,” Kiersten said.
“Please share with me the recipe for creamy taco,” Donna Jo said. “And if you want to give me the secret ingredient in your soup, I’ll take that, too.” Donna Jo laughed.
“It’s the potatoes,” Kiersten said matter-of-factly. “You have to get the right potatoes.”
Donna Jo laughed again. “My grandma had a secret ingredient in her banana bars. She’d tell everyone it was nutmeg, but it was really condensed milk.”
“Mine’s really the potatoes,” Kiersten repeated, but Donna Jo was already saying goodbye.
Kiersten’s husband, Jack, was lying on the couch watching the football game.
“Going out tonight, then?” He asked, eyes still on the TV.
“I’ll have to,” she said, glancing at the calendar on the wall. For the past howevermany years, Jack had taken to circling the new moon dates.
“Want me to come?”
“No,” she said. “No reason to ruin both our nights.”
“It was supposed to be a blessing, Kerty,” he said, pulling himself up to sitting and giving her that look. “Not a curse.”
“A blessing for her, maybe,” she said.
“You like it, too,” he said. “You know it.”
She snorted.
“You do,” he said, settling back down on the couch. “Tell her what that kid said at the backpack drive. She’ll get a kick out of it.”
Kiersten snorted again, but made a mental note to do so.
It was warmer than usual for a North Dakota October, and a gentle mist had settled on the fields. Kiersten turned down the gravel road towards the farm. Her Great-Aunt Serine and Great-Uncle Arne had lived here in the 80s before moving to town, but now the yard was mostly taken up by her family’s bins, barns, and tractor parts. The house had fallen in ten years or so ago; first the roof, then the front porch, followed by everything else. The only thing left was the front steps, which is where Kiersten’s Aunt Serine sat, waiting for her.
“Why, hello, Kerty, I wasn’t expecting you!” Aunt Serine called as Kiersten stepped out of the car. The headlights bounced against both the ghost and the fog, and Serine shook her quilted coat at the beams until they automatically clicked off. Then the only thing visible in the blackness was Kiersten’s dead aunt, and the potatoes.
“Hello, Auntie,” she said, beginning the song-and-dance she and her aunt did at least once a month. “I’ve been asked to make your soup.”
“Isn’t that nice,” Serine said. “But it’s your soup, dear. It’s only my old recipe.”
“Your recipe and your potatoes,” Kiersten said, gesturing to Serine’s spectral garden. Like Serine, the garden was no more tangible than the fog; if Kiersten were to walk through either, they would dissipate into nothingness.
“Oh, well,” Aunt Serine said, waving her hands. “What’s yours is mine.”
“In that case,” Kiersten said for the millionth time, “may I have a couple of pounds of our potatoes?”
For the millionth time, Aunt Serine laughed.
“Of course!” She said, settling back down onto the steps. “But first, tell me everything. How’s Jack? How did the backpack fundraiser go? Did Pamella make apple pie again?”
Kiersten stifled a sigh, and sat down next to her.
“Pamella made apple pie and Donna Jo Dahl made chocolate cream. A boy at the backpack fundraiser told Pamella he couldn’t take a piece of her pie because he was ‘allergic to crust’,” she said. “Except that when he saw Donna Jo’s, he was suddenly not allergic and asked for two pieces.”
Aunt Serine laughed again. When she was little, Kiersten liked to sit on Aunt Serine’s lap because she smelled like peppermints and laughed with a breathy “hee hee hee hee” that made her shake from the depths of her bosom. Whatever was left of her still smelled like peppermints.
Kiersten went on. She told her aunt about the new roundabout in town (“Save yourself the trouble and drive straight over it,” Serine said), and Kiersten’s job (“You work too much; it’s bad for your skin. Start splashing water on your face twice a day,” Serine said), and what was the goings-on with Jack (“Have you had a date this week yet? Why not?” Serine asked). But mostly she talked about her mom, her Uncle Rick, and her Uncle Owen.
“Ahh, good,” Serine said, leaning back against the top step and looking up at the stars. “Everyone is good. Tell your mom I’m proud of her, and tell Owen and Rick I’m proud of them, and tell yourself I’m proud of you, because I am very proud.”
Kiersten nodded and tilted her head towards her aunt to breathe in one more smell of peppermint.
“Let’s go get you those potatoes,” Serine said, slapping her knee.
From somewhere in the ether, Serine pulled out a large cardboard box. She set it on the ground between the rows and bent down, pushing the dirt slightly with the tips of her fingers. Three potatoes appeared. Serine picked them up and put them in the cardboard box. She did that over and over again until the box was full.
The first time Serine had handed her a box of potatoes, Kiersten nearly fainted. She nearly fainted, but actually fell backwards onto her butt and tipped a pile of dusty potatoes all over her face and hair because what had been nothing but a glowing phantom memory of a cardboard box of potatoes turned very real and very heavy as soon as it was transferred from her aunt’s arms to her own.
This time, of course, Kiersten was ready. She huffed and puffed her way to the car (“You need to start lifting weights,” Serine said), loaded the box into the trunk, and turned to face her aunt.
“Don’t be a stranger,” Serine said.
“I won’t,” Kiersten said. “Love you, Auntie.”
“Love you, too, my girl,” she said for the millionth time. “Keep those dumplings small, and take the pot off the stove before you add the cream.”
“Will do,” Kiersten said for the millionth time.
The image above was generated by AI because AI is terrible but also convenient.
This week on North Dakota Today we talked about Sarah Bry and her dad, Nick Cichy, my Nice People of the Week, as well as Grand Forks group running to build community and connections in recovery. (Valley News Live)
Dickinson’s Delores Booke is 91 and volunteering two days a week because “It’s not hard work. It’s fun.” (KFYR TV), found via Oops Only Good News)
An Almont man named Lafe Nelson took his boys for a 178-mile horseback ride around North Dakota. (KFYR TV)
After a nearly 20 year search, Sandi Boehm has her truck. (KFYR TV)
Minot’s Richard Reuer is the guy-behind-the-holly for Minot’s Wreaths Across America and Gold Star Tree of Honor. (Minot Daily News)
Seven-hundred bison had their annual vet appointment at Theodore Roosevelt National Park recently. (Facebook)
C-ute. (KFYR TV)
East Grand Forks’ Nick Idso won $65,000 in prizes on “The Price Is Right.” (Fargo Forum), found via Oops Only Good News)
North Dakota Nice 
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