It's A Wonderful Midlife Crisis : A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel: Good To The Last Death Book One

by Robyn Peterman

  “I’m not lying. You were so smart and beautiful… and alive. You made me feel whole—normal—loved. I thought I could be a different man with you—a real man.”

  “Many real men are gay,” I said with very little emotion in my voice. “A real man is honest with himself about who he is.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry is not really cutting it right now. I loved you,” I told him. “With everything I had. I thought I was broken and you didn’t want me in that way.”

  Speaking the words aloud that we should have spoken many years ago was miserable. Both of our lives could have been vastly different.

  “Sadly, I still love you,” I whispered.

  “I don’t deserve your love, Daisy.”

  I picked at the cuticle on my thumb and wondered if he was right.

  “I know,” I told him, wanting to hurt him. I was a life-sized bloody open wound. I was also kind and honest. Right now, I despised those particular qualities about myself. “But I love you anyway. I hate you, but my love can’t disappear that easily.”

  “You’re not broken,” Steve said. “I was broken because I couldn’t accept who I was. Because I was such a coward, I destroyed your life too.”

  I couldn’t argue with that logic. He was right. I didn’t think I would ever become unbroken. I’d lived too long this way. I’d missed the opportunity to be whole a lifetime ago.

  “I don’t regret our life, Daisy. I treasure every moment we had. What I regret is…”

  “Harming me to the point of no return?” I asked, still feeling spiteful.

  It infuriated me that I could understand and feel compassion for his pain. I believed that he did love me. He loved me completely but in a non-sexual way. He’d been both a gift and a curse to me.

  We had been happy. I’d always felt safe and adored as a person—person being the operative word. I’d never felt loved as a woman, but I didn’t know anything else. I never knew my father or grandfather. I hadn’t grown up around a healthy, loving male-female relationship. Gram never even dated, or if she did, I didn’t know about it.

  “Steve, I need to ask you a question,” I said, as my stomach dropped yet again and my chest tightened.

  “You can ask me anything, Daisy.”

  “Was your death really an accident? Or did you want to get away from me?”

  The sound that came from Steve sent chills skittering down my spine. It was filled with such anguish, I let go of my anger and went to him. Wrapping my arms around his decaying and trembling body, I held him.

  “Daisy,” he choked out. “You were the best and most beautiful thing in my life. As much as I hurt you, I was so blessed to have had your love—to still have your love, even though I don’t deserve it. I would have never left voluntarily. You need to believe me even if you can’t forgive me.”

  “I believe you. I forgive you,” I whispered as I tried to remember what Steve had smelled like when he was alive. Ghosts had no scent. It saddened me that I couldn’t remember. “What exactly do you need me to do before you can move on?”

  Steve laid his head on my shoulder. “I need you to find love—real love with a man who can give you what I never could. I need you to feel whole, Daisy.”

  I closed my eyes and groaned. “Steve, you might be here for decades then. I’m not sure that will ever happen. After this morning, I’m not sure what part of my life is fact and what’s fiction.”

  “It can happen,” he said softly. “We have to make it happen.”

  “We?” I asked, feeling strangely back to normal with my gay dead husband who wanted to help me get laid… or loved. Neither were going to happen anytime soon.

  My mind drifted to Gideon. I knew I could sleep with him if I wanted to, but he came with baggage that was dangerous and possibly deadly. I was smarter than that. There was no way I would road test my new womanly wholeness with the Grim Reaper.

  “Yes. We,” Steve said with a chuckle. “We are going to find you a straight Prince Charming. It’s what you deserve.”

  I pulled back and looked at my best friend. “And that wouldn’t bother you at all—to see me happy with another man?”

  Steve pressed his lips together and made his sound. “No,” he said with a genuine smile. “It would give me peace that I’d finally done right by the woman I love.”

  “Loved,” I corrected him.

  “No, Daisy,” Steve said with sad smile. “Love. I will love you forever. Death can’t change that.”

  “And I love you too,” I said, thinking maybe I wouldn’t have to throw away all of my memories.

  The horrible ones of being gently rejected when I’d tried to seduce my husband were definitely on the burn pile. However, now that I knew why, it didn’t hurt quite as much… or at least not in the same way. Therapy would be helpful, but admitting to how I got my information was a no-no. It was unbelievable and wouldn’t be wise.

  Maybe I could talk to Heather…

  Maybe Gram…

  Maybe no one.

  Or maybe I would just keep talking to Steve. We could work through it together like we should have a few decades ago. As horrible as what he’d done was, he’d also given me a gift in coming back to tell me. I now knew that there was nothing wrong with me sexually. I’d also spent twenty years being completely adored by another person. And I adored him right back.

  Nothing was ever black and white—completely good or totally bad. Shades of gray were what most of life was.

  Steve was dead now. I didn’t know how much time we would have together to make our past right, but he was wrong about my future. I’d convince him of that soon. I was good. I liked myself. I liked myself more every single day.

  I was strong, kind and loyal. I had friends I would take a bullet for and a Gram who loved me as much as I loved her.

  I had two furry dogs—or at least one dog and one questionable little beast—and I loved them.

  My new job was going to be a joy.

  And my hobby of helping my squatters find peace? That made me feel like a freaking superhero.

  I was truly fine. Steve would believe me. He would see it and he’d have peace.

  Watching him leave me again would be hard. But having him here now… and knowing the truth?

  That was the biggest gift of all.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Daisy girl, did you know that booby trap spelled backward is party boob?” Gram asked, slapping her leg with delight.

  I shook my head and smiled. “I take it Jennifer visited you?” I asked, knowing how Jennifer and Gram loved to trade useless information that registered on the same intelligence level as a fourth-grade boy. I loved how much my friends adored Gram.

  “She surely did. Jennifer just dills my pickles. I don’t know what the hell she did to her face, but that gal is as funny as all get out,” Gram said. “Want another?”

  “Do I have a choice?” I asked as I folded her housecoats and put some fresh flowers in the vase by her bed.

  “Nosiree, you don’t,” she said, rubbing her thin hands together with glee. “Strap-on is no-parts spelled backward! Get it?”

  “I would have been fine without ever knowing that,” I muttered with a laugh.

  Steve had joined me. He wanted to see Gram. He sat quietly in the corner with a smile on his decomposing face while he waited for her to spot him. So far… nothing.

  “The Ouija board worked,” I told her as I went to her door and closed it. I also locked it. There was no need for the staff at the nursing home to think both Gram and I had lost our minds. “I sent fifty squatters into the light yesterday.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned—not literally,” Gram said with a chuckle and a thumbs up. “You forgot the mail forgery kit in the dresser. You’re gonna need that.”

  “Yep,” I said, pulling the bottom drawer open. “That was on my list for today. I have a ton of mail fraud to execute in the next day or two.”

  “I don’t consider helping the
dead to be illegal,” Gram said as she channel-surfed like a speed demon. “I call it dishin’ out good karma for deserving people.”

  “Works for me,” I said, taking the box out of the drawer and putting it by my purse so I wouldn’t forget it.

  Gram still hadn’t noticed Steve.

  He was insistent that he be a surprise. I wouldn’t say anything unless we went another ten minutes or so without Gram realizing he was here.

  “How complicated is this?” I asked, referring to the large box.

  “Instructions are in there,” Gram said, settling on Family Feud. “I love me some Richard Dawson. He’s such a flirt. He’s no Bob Barker, but I’d get gussied up for him.”

  “Does it vary by state?” I asked, hoping the instructions weren’t the size of a book.

  “It does, but once you get the hang of it, it’s a breeze,” she explained. “Out of country gets a little tricky, but everything you need is in the box.”

  “What happens when I run out of stuff?” I asked, peeking at the contents.

  “You’re gonna think I’m nuts,” Gram said, glancing over at me.

  “I already do. Spit it out, old lady,” I said.

  Gram leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper. “It multiplies. You never run out. First time I noticed it happened, I was so surprised you could’ve slapped my ass and called me Wally.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Nope. I’m Gram,” she said with a cackle.

  “You’re certainly on fire today,” I said with an eye roll. “So, for real? I don’t ever have to buy supplies for my new illegal side gig?”

  “Nope,” Gram confirmed.

  Well, that was a relief and a shocker. Although, I wasn’t sure why anything shocked me anymore.

  “Did you meet the Grim Reaper?” Gram asked, waggling her eyebrows.

  “Umm… I did,” I said, not wanting to go into any details with Steve in the room. I didn’t know why. He’d probably be thrilled that I’d kissed someone. It would be better if I’d kissed someone who wasn’t older than time itself, but I wasn’t the best at choosing men.

  That was the understatement of my life.

  “Don’t know why he’s in town,” Gram went on. “Were there any oddities with any of the dead?”

  “No,” I said quickly. I had no intention of bringing up John. Plus, Gideon had said he wasn’t here for John.

  “Well, there will be soon,” Gram said. “He never shows up without a reason.”

  I really didn’t like the sound of that. None of my squatters seemed like bad people. The thought of helping someone end up in Hell or whatever came next was disconcerting.

  “Does he have a counterpart?” I asked. He had to. Right? If someone’s afterlife was in question there had to be a good Grim Reaper… or some sort of benevolent being, something like that.

  I rolled my eyes at myself and waited to see what Gram would say.

  “Angel of Mercy. The Angel of Mercy is the counterpart to the Grim Reaper. A tire!” she shouted at the TV when Richard Dawson asked for something you fill with air.

  “A balloon,” Steve said, walking over to Gram’s bed.

  Gram didn’t look at him.

  Steve and I both stared at her in confusion. Was it possible that once the ghosts stopped coming to her, she lost the ability to see them?

  “Daisy girl, you fill a tire with air,” she said, noticing my confusion and pointing at the television. “You got something better?”

  “You don’t see him?” I asked.

  “See who?” she questioned, looking around the room. “Is the Grim Reaper here?”

  “Umm… no.”

  Steve looked crestfallen. I realized that Gram couldn’t see the dead anymore. Once the torch had been passed, the gift apparently moved on.

  “Who’s here?” Gram asked, alarmed.

  Looking over at Steve, he nodded his head.

  “It’s Steve,” I told her. “He’s come home for a little while.”

  Gram paled and her eyes grew wide. She grabbed my arm with far more strength than I was aware she still had.

  “No, Daisy,” she choked out. “No, no, no.”

  She grew agitated and tried to get out of her bed. Her grip didn’t lessen and she pulled me closer to her frail body.

  “Gram,” I said, wrapping my free arm around her and hugging her tight. “What’s wrong?”

  “Don’t you dare do what your mamma did,” she said, glancing wildly around the room as her body trembled. “Don’t you dare follow him. You hear me? Steve, you are not taking my baby with you!”

  “Oh my God,” I muttered. I stroked her hair and tried to calm her. “I’m not going with Steve. I promise.”

  “What is she talking about?” Steve asked, reaching out to touch my arm.

  “He wants to know what happened,” I told Gram, who was still shaking like a leaf and holding on to me like her life—or my life—depended on it.

  “Your call,” Gram said, still scanning the room.

  I gently put Gram’s legs back on her bed and covered her with the quilt. Sitting down next to her so she didn’t try to get out of bed again, I turned my focus to Steve and took a deep breath.

  “My mom fell in love with one of the dead,” I explained, feeling disconnected from my body. My voice sounded flat to my own ears. I hadn’t gotten past the fact that she’d chosen a dead man over me. “When he was sent into the darkness, she took her own life to follow him.”

  Steve said nothing. He took the information in as he crossed the room and sat back down in the chair.

  “I’m sorry, Daisy,” he said quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

  “She’s not going with you,” Gram hissed, looking the wrong way from where Steve was seated. “Do you hear me? Daisy is not going with you.”

  “Gram, he doesn’t want me to go with him,” I told her. “We have some unfinished business.”

  “Like what?” Gram demanded, still searching the room.

  “It’s private,” I said. “It’s between Steve and me.”

  Gram began to cry. She rocked back and forth and began to mumble incoherently to herself as she took my hand in hers and held it to her heart. Her pale, wrinkled skin seemed to turn gray as she begged me not to leave her.

  “Tell her,” Steve said, his expression full of embarrassment and anguish. “Tell her the truth, Daisy. Please tell her.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked as I crawled into the bed with Gram and got under the blanket.

  “As sure as I love you and your grandmother. Yes,” he said.

  “What did he say?” Gram asked, still looking terrified.

  “Gram,” I said, taking her chin in my hand and making her face me so she could see I was telling the truth. I was a crappy liar and she was well aware of the fact. “Steve came back to apologize to me.”

  “For what?”

  “Gram, Steve’s gay.”

  Gram squinted at me and looked terribly confused. “No, he’s not. He was your husband.”

  “Yep,” I said, sighing and hating that the intimate details of our life were about to be spilled to the woman who had raised me and given me away at my wedding. “Steve couldn’t accept it.”

  “He was bisexual?” she asked, still not getting it.

  “Umm… no,” I admitted. This was harder than the talk with Steve in a way. “He was always gay. We didn’t have a normal man and woman relationship. I’d always thought there was something wrong with me.”

  “Why that little shit,” Gram hissed.

  “She’s right,” Steve said, joining me at the bed. “Tell her where I am so she can say whatever she wants to say to me.”

  I did. Gram focused on where Steve was standing but her eyes want right past him. “If you were alive, I’d skin your hide, buster,” she snapped. “I loved you like a son.”

  “Tell her I loved her too. I still do.”

  I relayed the message. Gram just snorted in disgust.

  “Gram, her
e’s what you need to know,” I said, smoothing her sparse gray curls away from her face. “Steve loved me, and I loved him. I was adored for twenty years. Trust me, I’m not okay with what he did, but I still love him. He was my best friend and one of the most important people in my life.”

  “But he destroyed you as a woman,” Gram said as tears ran down her cheeks.

  “Maybe,” I agreed, not wanting to lie or sugarcoat anything at this point. “But that’s why he came back. To tell me it was him and not me that was broken.”

  “What do you have to do to make him leave?” Gram demanded.

  Steve turned and walked away. Sadness and fear permeated the small room. This had not gone as planned at all. Gram’s words were harsh, but I could understand her fear. She’d lost my mother to a dead man. She would be devastated to lose me the same way.

  “I’m supposed to find a man who will love me in the way Steve couldn’t. He wants to help me.”

  Gram settled down and looked pensive for a long moment. “Where is he?”

  “Steve?” I asked, not sure who she was talking about.

  “Yes.”

  “He’s in the chair by the window,” I replied.

  “I want you to tell me what he says, and I don’t want you to leave a dang word out,” Gram said, staring at the chair.

  I nodded, as did Steve.

  “Steve, I don’t rightly know what to make of this,” she said, shaking her head. “But if you’re really here to make right the weirdest wrong I’ve ever heard of, then I’m fine with it.”

  “I am,” Steve said. “I promise.”

  I repeated what he’d said.

  “Let me tell you something right now,” Gram said, waving her finger in the direction of the chair. “If you do anything else to hurt my Daisy girl, after I die, I will find you and beat your ass so raw you won’t sit for the rest of eternity. You hear me, boy? I’m serious. You won’t have an ass left once I get through with you.”

  Steve looked shocked for only a brief second and then started to laugh. My best friend laughed so hard I was afraid he might lose a body part—like his head. It didn’t matter. We could bring anything that fell off home with us and I would glue it back on.