Life After: The Complete Series

by Julie Hall

  I nodded my thanks, even though his interruption was kind of rude. It seemed like people constantly interrupted Hugo. You’d think his aged appearance alone would earn more respect.

  Anyway, Rhett’s words were nothing I didn’t already know. Life since I had died almost six months ago, was a whole lot of getting on the game, staying on the game, and making sure I wasn’t off the game. Nobody back on Earth had any idea how busy the afterlife could be.

  I forced a kind smile before he turned and went about his business.

  Then I turned to Hugo. “Sorry,” I said. “I don’t know why that happens so often. Some people need a serious etiquette refresher.”

  Hugo waved it off, smiling that secretive smile of his. He gestured toward the exit and we fell in step with each other. Well, kind of. Hugo shuffled and leaned heavily on his cane. His white hair bobbed along with him.

  I slowed my steps to match his gait, more of a stroll than a true walk. It was refreshing in a place where everything operated at such a fast pace. Like stopping to smell the roses and all that junk.

  Hugo was a walking—or shuffling—dichotomy. A frail teacher one moment and a fierce warrior the next. Serious and poignant, yet with a sparkle of humor often shining from his eyes.

  Each cloak donned and discarded at a moment’s notice.

  He interrupted my musings. “Why don’t you take a short break before we continue training?”

  I groaned dramatically. “You mean we’re not done?”

  “Afraid not. We have a couple more hours of torture—oh, forgive me, training—before the day is finished,” he grinned. “Here we are, the girls’ locker room. Get some water and change into fresh workout clothes, and I’ll see you in our gym in a bit.”

  I pouted even as I capitulated. “Fine, but I’m not going to be any fun.”

  “Deal.”

  I hadn’t realized we were negotiating, or I’d have tried harder. He left me standing there, his poufy hair bobbing as he shuffled down the hall and around the corner.

  I blinked once. “What a nut.”

  Back in the gym twenty minutes later, the door slammed with a bang. For a moment, my former programming kicked in and I spun around with a pounding heart and then an unacceptable sadness. Hugo hobbled toward me with a fatherly smile.

  “Expecting someone else, my dear?” He always knew when my thoughts were elsewhere and didn’t hesitate to call me on it.

  It was as embarrassing as it was startling.

  “Not especially,” I answered truthfully. “For a second there I just thought . . .”

  My brain snagged on the memory of my first day of training. Seemingly forever ago. Logan plowing through the door, the noise that followed, the dropped sword.

  I shook my head to clear it. “Never mind, it was nothing.” I forced a smile around the fractures in my heart. “What adventures are to be had this afternoon?”

  It was a joke of ours. Hugo was all about learning through repetition, so the reality was that training was as far from adventurous as possible. Similar to Logan’s style—my insides pinged again—but with a gentler touch.

  Hugo always insisted I learn to use other weapons in conjunction with, and even instead of, my sword. Since I had a sword that burst into holy flames and charred the flesh off my enemies on contact, I kind of didn’t see the point, but he held firm.

  He said I needed to be a well-rounded fighter and shortcuts wouldn’t do me any favors. I hardly ever argued with him. I simply didn’t have the heart.

  It would have been a reminder of my former mentor. The one I tried desperately to stop thinking about.

  Logan and I had parted ways amicably enough . . . I supposed. There had hardly been a word between us since. If I were truthful with myself, I would admit it hurt.

  But I prided myself on being deceptive only with myself these days, so the truth was deeply buried. Our mutual friends recognized the tension, and like the children of divorce, they took turns eating at our separate tables and spending the evenings with one and then the other.

  I didn’t like that, or most of the other changes since I’d switched mentors, yet I still thought it was for the best. Spending a lot of time with Logan was not healthy for me.

  His cold demeanor, on the other hand, most likely came from wounded pride. People didn’t know my real reasons for asking for a different mentor, so it reflected poorly on him.

  And then there was Kaitlin.

  There had to be something between them, but for the life of me I couldn’t see it. It was as confusing as it was annoying.

  Romona, my grandmother—and now my best friend—was my saving grace these days. She was my anchor to this realm and the earthly one as well.

  She shared in the grief I’d been plagued with since getting my memories back and softened the blow of losing my family on Earth. She kept my mind on better things and reminded me of the Father who loved me.

  I’d yet to see God since my time with Him on the snowy peak, but I felt His presence daily. The hole within filled in a little more every day, even as new fractures appeared in my heart. But, I reasoned, a heart could break and a person still remain whole.

  I was banking on it.

  I looked up at Hugo, realizing I’d become lost in my thoughts once again. He stood waiting, leaning heavily on his cane with both hands.

  “I’m sorry, you should have said something. My mind wanders more often than it should.”

  His gentle smiled appeared. “Sometimes there is a reason for the wandering. A reason for the searching. If you never stop to be silent, you won’t hear the nudging of the Lord.”

  “Nudging of the Lord?”

  “Yes, that quiet voice inside that is trying to guide you. If you constantly fill your mind and never stop and be silent, how will you ever receive your answer? When you ask for guidance you must not merely ask, but believe. One who doubts is like a wave in the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.”

  I barked out a short laugh. “My silence isn’t usually productive. More like obsessive. You’ll have to teach me some better meditation skills.”

  “Do you have your book?”

  I didn’t need to ask which one. Hugo had been on me to read the ancient Scriptures since day one. But something kept me distant from my loving Creator’s Word. I shrugged and turned to walk toward the practice dummy in the corner, busying myself with preparing it.

  “The more you know of Him, the more you will be able to see the way He does, and the more you will be able to hear His voice above the throngs.”

  Hear His voice?

  “Yes, hear His voice. The gentle whispering of His truth in your ears and heart, comes with knowing Him.”

  I turned to him with furrowed brow. Had I spoken out loud? “But I’ve only heard Him the one time up on the mountaintop.”

  “Oh, I’m sure that is not true, but it sounds like you need to add listening to your list of things to practice. Sometimes you need to be still and quiet before you can hear His voice.”

  Hugo’s words gave me a spark of hope. Could I really hear from God on a regular basis? “Will He sound like He did on the mountaintop?”

  “Not always.” He flashed a cheeky smile. “There will be times He will sound like me.”

  “Yeah, right. I’m sure that’s what all the mentors say to their trainees. So, what you’re saying is I need to go into my room and close my eyes until I hear your voice whispering in my ear.”

  “Something along those lines.” His toothy grin was familiar. It meant he was either making fun of me, or laughing silently at a joke I didn’t understand.

  Both regular occurrences.

  I chewed my lip, taking his words to heart. As I turned away, Hugo’s hand settled on my shoulder, startling me.

  “It will come with time and practice, as do most things. Just like a baby taking her first steps. They are shaky at first, but become stable and sure with repetition.”

  “You know how I love being compared to a baby,” I deadpa
nned.

  The shrug of his ancient shoulders told me the analogy was appropriate. I humbly swallowed the pill. I would have jumped down Logan’s throat for saying such a thing, but this wasn’t Logan, and I was tired.

  Humility was a hard lesson for me.

  Hugo’s words had constantly challenged me over the last few months. A few words from him could hit my brain and travel straight to my heart, leaving a burning impression in both places.

  I would lie awake at night battling over them. It was as if my heart knew they were true, but my head fought them out of a defiance I didn’t understand.

  If my head would just yield to my heart, I might find peace, but night after night, day after day, my head fought on.

  Weariness settled over me.

  “You have your answer in front of you, Audrey—that which will quiet your tumultuous heart. It’s yours for the taking.”

  Before I could think it over, he clapped his hands loud and hard. I jumped.

  “Now, let’s begin this afternoon’s adventure. How about we work on swords for a bit? That should cheer your spirits.”

  He was right. I bounced on the balls of my feet and shook out my arms and legs, imagining the melancholy being shaken from my mind at the same time as the stiffness from my limbs.

  “Let’s do this thing.”

  2

  The Gift

  I inhaled a deep breath of fresh, woody air. It was just as clean in the city, but the way each lungful in my beloved redwood forest energized my system and cleared my thoughts tricked me into believing different. The giant trees that soared to impossible heights would dwarf their counterparts on Earth. Rays of light filtered through the generously-spaced behemoths, allowing ferns and vines to grow without overtaking the woods.

  I paused a moment to pluck a lovely deep blue wildflower, its fruity scent as appealing as its appearance. I tucked it behind my ear to capture its beauty and fragrance for myself and continued on my way. The trek home was familiar enough that I closed my eyes for a moment to enjoy a songbird’s melody from somewhere in the canopy above.

  I’d been given the opportunity to move into the city—closer to the training center—closer to Romona—but I’d turned it down. The redwood trees simply felt like home.

  Perhaps someday I would change my mind, maybe even move into an apartment with Romona, but for now I appreciated the solitude.

  It mirrored the emptiness I carried inside.

  The underbrush to my left shook slightly. I laid a warning hand on Bear’s head to keep him from terrorizing whatever poor creature rustled around in there.

  My golden retriever accompanied me to and from the training center every day. What he did during my long hours of training was a mystery. My furry friend was a boon granted to me from the Creator—a loyal presence I would forever be grateful for. I ran my fingers along the rough trunk of my redwood tree. The bark melted away to reveal a door.

  Inside, the dank walls and low lighting of the corridor were no longer depressing and sad, but magical. The lights let off a humming glow, reminding me of candlelight. I could imagine I lived within the walls of an ancient castle rather than encased in a living tree.

  I drifted through the hall with my gown trailing behind me. With Hugo’s help, I was getting better at materializing what I needed.

  When alone, I often practiced by changing my clothing into long, flowing gowns fit for royalty. Today I wanted to feel like a princess rather than a warrior.

  The sword still strapped to my side, made it hard to believe the illusion, so to compensate, the long dress was extra whimsical. The light green material floated behind me like the train on a fairy’s wedding gown, long and light, and moving on a current of air that was barely there.

  I’d seen something like it once on the cover of a fantasy novel, and the design had stuck with me. Today, for a few moments, the dress was not just in my head but covered my body as I made my way home.

  My fingers grazed walls covered in a layer of soft moss. I hummed softly as I glided along, remembering a nursery rhyme my mom used to sing. Melancholy still tinged each of my days. The loss of my family was not really a loss—after all, I would see them again—but it still felt like one.

  As if sensing my mood, Bear stuck his wet nose into my palm and nuzzled it. My eyes remained transfixed on the bumpy wall as I flattened my hand and ran it over his soft fur. He leaned into the touch, even while matching his steps with my own.

  Reaching my door, I grasped the smooth knob and heaved a heavy sigh before turning it, already lamenting the loss of my beautifully impractical gown, along with its wonderfully unrealistic dreams of fairies, princesses, and knights in shining armor.

  I pushed open the door, but before my garb melted away, I was assaulted by the awful sounds of screaming and shouting.

  “Ahh!” I stumbled and flashed into my body armor, reaching down to unsheathe my sword, simultaneously falling into a fighting stance.

  There were a few gasps and a delayed “Surprise!” Belatedly, I recognized that my room had been transformed into party central.

  Purple streamers hung from every foot of the ceiling above the thirty or so people who stood gaping at me. My furniture had been stowed somewhere in the walls or floors, leaving space to walk.

  A long, narrow table draped with a lace tablecloth, stood along the right wall, food weighing it down from end to end. Adjacent to it stood a similar table, brightly wrapped packages piled haphazardly on top.

  “Way to go, Aud. Still keeping up your tradition of grand entrances.”

  My heartbeat—which started to calm slightly—picked up at Alrik’s jest. The faces of the people in front of me held as much surprise as my own. I was still in fighting stance with my sword at ready—up and to the right, almost as if I held a baseball bat. I slowly angled the blade down and slid it back in its scabbard.

  “Um . . . surprise?” Romona repeated, offering a sheepish smile as she gently pushed her way forward. “Aren’t you, you know, surprised?” Her smile closely resembled a grimace.

  I answered her with a smile-grimace of my own. “I guess? What’s going on here?”

  “It’s a surprise party,” she said with fake cheer.

  “I gathered as much, but for what?”

  “Your birthday! You’re nineteen now! Surprise,” she repeated, apparently unsure of what else to say.

  My voice lowered and I bent to whisper in her ear. “But I’m not nineteen yet. My birthday isn’t for another five months.”

  She whispered back from the side of her mouth, “I know, but I thought you needed some cheer. Just go with it.” Her eyes pleaded with me.

  I huffed and rolled my own.

  Another voice interrupted. “If I wasn’t impressed with you before, I have to say I am now. Perhaps pulling a sword on your party guests was a little extreme, but it was kind of awesome too.”

  Jonathon half-lifted me off the ground in an exuberant hug. The look Romona shot him was half-relieved, half-peeved.

  “I don’t really startle well,” I told him.

  “That, little Aud, is quite the understatement. But I always appreciate your antics for their pure entertainment value.”

  I’d almost forgotten Alrik. Once Jonathon let go, I turned to the big Viking with a scathing look, which he laughed off as he used one of his giant paws to mess up my hair.

  “Hey, come on,” I complained as I stepped out of his reach. “Insult to injury here.”

  “What, me?” He feigned hurt. “I was just trying to tactfully remind you what your hair looks like when you get scared.”

  I groaned loudly and looked around. Thankfully, most people had gone back to conversing among themselves and hadn’t noticed my instant dye job.

  Kaitlin chose that moment to arrive. Decked out in black skinny jeans, a silver-sequined tank and dripping in silver jewelry, she reminded me of a disco ball, attracting attention wherever she went. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a slick, high ponytail with a few sm
all braids dispersed throughout its length. Her matching makeup highlighted all the right features.

  She was gorgeous.

  I was jealous.

  “What did I miss? Whoa there—it must have been something good. What does silver mean again, Audrey?”

  “It means if I wasn’t already dead, this little scene might have sent me to an early grave.”

  “Audrey, heart attacks at nineteen are highly unlikely,” Romona cut in.

  I rolled my eyes. “Are they more common at eighteen? Just give me a sec to take care of myself.” I turned to flee.

  “Mind if I join you?” Romona asked.

  “No. Come on.” I waved her forward. A moment of privacy with her would get me some answers.

  Once in the hallway, Romona closed the door behind her, instantly muffling the sounds from the room beyond. She waited in silence while I willed my hair back to monochromatic brown, only a shade lighter than her own.

  “Okay.” I fully faced her. “I’m ready to hear the reason behind my near cardiac arrest.”

  “Audrey,” Romona sighed, “you didn’t almost have a heart attack.”

  “Tell that to my still erratically beating heart, because I’d love for it to chill out.”

  “Hey there.” Romona leaned over and tapped a finger to my chest. “You can calm down now. You’re giving my granddaughter a complex.”

  I gaped at her. I was still getting used to the fact that my best friend, who totally looked my age, was actually my grandma. “Cute.”

  She smiled broadly. “See, much better, right?”

  Running both hands down my face, I resisted the urge to scream into them. “I know you love me, but what’s up with the room full of screaming people? Especially when it’s not even my birthday.”

  “I told you, we’re celebrating your nineteenth birthday.”

  “But it’s not my birthday. And besides, no one celebrates birthdays here. It’s kind of pointless.”