What Lies Between (Where One Goes Book 2)

by B. N. Toler

  I had been present in all of the moments I was seeing, but I was remembering them differently than the way I’d experienced them. I was seeing and feeling the memories through Charlotte’s eyes. I was feeling what she’d felt. How is that possible? “What…what is this?” I asked. “How…how are you doing this?”

  “What’s wrong, George,” Sniper asked, concern in his tone.

  “He’s fine,” Marlena told him. “Just breathe, George. I’m showing you your gift. Do you feel it?”

  I could feel the emotions throughout each moment that played, but it was more than just feeling—I could see them as they swirled about, each one a different color I was somehow able to feel. None of it made sense, but at the same time I knew it was a visual manifestation of the emotions that surged through my mind and body. Whatever they were, they were good—soft and easy. In each moment there was safety and warmth, like nothing else in the world mattered.

  Charlotte’s naked body was melted against my own, neither of us covered. Her eyes were closed and with my free hand I stroked her arm. I love you, I whispered to her. The image exploded with more color, blinding and enveloping each of my senses, to the point it felt as if they were vibrating inside of me.

  “This is her?” I rasped. “This is how she felt?”

  “You give her peace and warmth, George,” Marlena said as she squeezed my hand again. “Can you see that? That’s her safe place, and it radiates from within you. You’ll never know what that means to someone like us.”

  Emotion choked me, and I swallowed hard, pushing it down. I opened my eyes and turned my head, breathless and overwhelmed. I’d always doubted my place in Charlotte’s life, if I had ever made anything better, and now I knew for certain that I did. Maybe it wasn’t in the way I’d thought it should be, but I gave her peace. I made her feel loved. I gave her something she needed.

  Marlena peered up at me.

  “You have an amazing gift,” I replied hoarsely, completely in awe.

  She dropped her gaze—as flamboyant as she was appearance-wise, there was also a humbleness to her. “We all have our purpose. Charlotte’s is to help souls like Click...like your brother. Yours is to replenish her when her purpose bleeds her dry. To keep her warm when all the sad she sees leaves her cold. Your purpose isn’t recognized by those she helps, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less special, any less important.”

  I moved my gaze back to the window, willing the tears I’d managed to keep at bay to dry up. After a few moments I cleared my throat and turned back to face Click’s room. “So how do we help Click?” I asked, desperate to shift the focus off me. While Marlena had been kind to share Charlotte’s feelings with me, I needed to push ahead. My wife wanted to help Click, and since she couldn’t do that at the moment, I needed to be strong and help her finish what she’d started. Though, I was starting to wonder if that was even possible.

  Ike

  I took Charlotte everywhere, eager for her to see and experience all the beauty this side offered. It was a warm day, but the mild breeze made it perfect. She was laying on her stomach, propped up by her elbows watching me and laughing. I was doing my best to make her laugh, saying anything I could think that might even sound remotely funny. Sometimes I could tell her laugh was genuine, other times it seemed a little forced, like her mind was somewhere else, and she was only smiling so she wouldn’t hurt my feelings.

  I was about to take her hand and ask her if she was okay, but her head popped up, stopping me. Something had caught her attention. Following her line of sight, I saw the large group of children with a few adults in the distance. Each child had a butterfly net in hand, appearing clueless as to what to do with them.

  I smiled, excited to explain to Charlotte who they were. “The adults,” I pointed, “are the tour guides.”

  Pushing up to her knees so she could see better, she asked, “What do you mean?”

  “Sometimes kids, and even some adults, arrive without knowing what’s happening; maybe they weren’t taught. Whatever the reason, they die and here they are. They don’t know what to do, and sometimes they don’t even know who they are, or who to look for. The tour guides take them and show them everything. They help them get comfortable.”

  “Like an orphanage for the afterlife?”

  I shrugged. “The goal is to help them find their family…if their family is even here.”

  “If they’re even here?”

  Not wanting to get into the whole heaven and hell thing, I explained it as simply as I could, “Maybe they arrive before their parents. Also, not everyone is allowed to come here, Charlotte.” I stood and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go say hi.”

  We were a few yards away from the group when Charlotte asked, “Why do they have nets when there are no butterflies?” As soon as the words left her mouth there was an explosion of soft fluttering and the field was covered in an array of butterflies. The children squealed and ran about trying to catch them while Charlotte let out a laugh as she slowly turned, taking in all the color.

  “This is incredible.”

  “I know,” I agreed, unable to take my eyes off of her. When she looked down, she tilted her head at a small boy standing beside her with his hand extended toward her, a bright yellow butterfly perched on his finger. She bent down, her mouth turned up softly.

  “That’s a pretty one,” she told him.

  The child stared blankly at her. “What is your name?” Charlotte asked.

  He frowned, then turned and ran off.

  When she stood, she said, “He was cute. I hope they find his family.”

  “You know, maybe when you’re ready…we could do this.”

  “Help welcome the children?” she asked.

  Her tone sounded uncertain. I wasn’t sure how she’d feel about the idea, but I’d suggested it anyway. She was still adapting to this side and struggling with leaving Click behind. I wondered if getting involved and helping others on this side would offer her some peace.

  She gazed out at the field, her expression somber. “Yeah. Maybe. When I’m ready.”

  Charlotte

  I had no idea how long it had been since I’d passed away. In some ways it felt like I had just arrived on the other side, and in other ways it felt like I’d been there for years. Words failed me whenever I tried to sum up the other side—from the way we were able to move from place to place in the blink of an eye, to the unbelievable beauty of it all; being with Ike, to laughing with my brother and feeling my grandmother hug me—it was all beyond anything I’d ever imagined. And even though I hadn’t fully accepted being here, the peace of not constantly running into souls needing help was unadulterated bliss.

  Until it wasn’t.

  In the midst of all the peace and happiness, despair and guilt still waltzed in and out. No matter what, the sadness was always there doing its best to take me down, making sure I never forgot what I’d left behind. George. How was he? Was he taking care of himself? I missed my in-laws. I missed Sniper and Anna. Did they make up and work everything out? Inevitably, when the sadness weaved its way in, my thoughts always returned to the sweet little soul trapped in a dark room. Click.

  Seeing the ‘tour guides’ helping lost children had given me hope, but at the same time it made me angry. Click should be in that group. Why did those kids get to cross over and she didn’t? How was it fair that I was here and she was there? It wasn’t. And much like a snowball rolling down hill, the anger would build. How could any version of heaven exist for some and not for others? I didn’t deserve to be here when she wasn’t.

  We were all peeling apples as the thoughts continued to war in my head. We’d just been to an orchard and picked them ourselves so Grams could make her famous apple pie. It struck me as oddly funny at how much I was enjoying it now, when I’d detested the chore when I was little; when I was alive.

  “Your pile is looking mighty small, Ike,” Axel teased.

  The two were in the midst of a gripping contest to see who coul
d peel the most apples. They were both laughing and talking smack while Grams and I watched.

  Leaning back in my chair, I bit into an apple, my eyes rolling back as I let out moan. It was absurd how delicious it tasted. “Why does everything taste so freaking good here?” I wondered aloud to no one in particular, not that I’d get a response from them anyway. Axel plunked an apple on the table, adding to his pile, and Ike’s eyes narrowed as he hastened his efforts.

  “Men,” Grams mumbled under her breath where only I could hear.

  “I think I’m missing the point in all of this,” I announced motioning my hand at them and their piles of bare apples. “If you win, what do you win?”

  “The first pie that comes out of the oven,” Axel declared.

  “And bragging rights,” Ike added.

  “Hey, you.” Axel pointed his peeler at me. “You better quit stuffing your face and get back to work, or you won’t get any pie,” he warned. “How about d’em apples?” he finished with a quirked eyebrow.

  I snorted at his corny joke before slapping my hand over my mouth. I was a hopeless dork. Ike grinned at me, his dimples popping on his cheeks. “Nice.”

  Brushing it off, I pretended to play it cool and said, “That was a terrible joke.”

  “Take it back, Charlotte, or you’ll regret it,” Axel warned, feigning more offense than he actually felt. I squinted slightly as we had a quiet stare-off. I knew all too well my brother’s warning tone. Though he did not say it in so many words, he was threatening to punish me for my slight—said retribution could be anything from putting me in a headlock, to giving me a noogie, or some other method of embarrassing me immensely.

  Ike’s eyes met mine, his mouth lifting in a smirk, clearly entertained by our sibling banter.

  “I’m not taking it back,” I said defiantly, cocking my own eyebrow in challenge. “I ain’t scared,” I added sassily. We were on the other side...what damage could he really do?

  Axel’s mouth turned up slightly. Judging by the mirth in his eyes, my reaction was exactly what he had hoped for. I immediately regretted my previous statement. Maybe I was scared. Why do siblings enjoy poking at each other so much? With a deep sigh, he leaned back in his chair and asked, “Ike. In your brief time with Charlotte, did she happen to ever share with you the story of her first day of ninth grade?”

  Fuuuuuuuck. Wide-eyed, I sat straight up in my chair, practically choking on the bite of apple I’d just taken. “Don’t you dare, Axel,” I coughed as I beat my chest, trying to get it down.

  Axel flexed his brows, a mischievous grin taking his features.

  “I don’t think she told me that one,” Ike replied, the curiosity in his tone obvious as he shot his gaze between me and Axel. He knew by my reaction Axel was about to tell him something pretty damn juicy.

  “Ahem,” Axel cleared his throat obnoxiously.

  I dropped my face in my hands. This was going to be bad.

  “Sorry, I need to make sure my voice is clear for this one,” he explained before moving his mouth awkwardly as if stretching it.

  “Axel,” I warned, glaring at him. “Don’t.”

  “Or what?” he laughed, a rose-colored flush tinting his cheeks. He was my brother, and as is tradition amongst elder siblings, he thoroughly enjoyed goading his younger sister. I swear somewhere there’s a book of laws for siblings that states they must find immense pleasure in teasing and torturing each other.

  “I think I need to hear this one,” Ike encouraged as he settled back in his seat, abandoning his mission to win at apple peeling. Apparently anything that might embarrass me was worth more than bragging rights.

  “It can’t be that bad,” Grams intervened.

  I closed my eyes and laid my head in my arms on the table. In hindsight, after the many years I’d had to recover from the mortification of it all, and seeing as how, at this exact moment, I was dead—no, it wasn’t that bad. However, as a newly minted freshman in high school, it was melt-to-the-floor humiliating; life as I knew it had ended, there’d been no point in going on.

  “So, Char had a crush on this kid...what was his name?” He snapped his fingers as if the sound would remind him. “Bobby?”

  “Billy,” I groaned. If he was going to tell it, I figured he better at least get the details right.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” he chuckled. “Billy.” I raised my head in time to see Axel smack Ike’s arm. “This kid was such a doofus, but Char thought he was the cream of the crop.”

  I rolled my eyes. “He’d been the most popular guy in eighth grade,” I defended.

  “That’s why you liked him?” Ike asked. “Because he was popular?”

  “No,” I denied too quickly, knowing it was partly true, if I was totally honest with myself. “He wasn’t a doofus. Axel isn’t telling this accurately.”

  “Charlotte,” Axel said, annoyed at my denial. “He had a mouth full of metal and wore the same bright red sweatshirt every day. He was a doofus, and so were you for crushing on him.”

  “I was fourteen!” I defended loudly.

  Axel laughed. “Look at her,” he pointed, “she’s getting so worked up, and I haven’t even gotten to the good part.”

  Crossing my arms, I sat back and huffed childishly, “You are not my favorite brother anymore.”

  “So anyway,” he went on, undeterred by my statement, “Char wants to get all dressed up for the first day of school.”

  “The first day is a big deal,” Grams interrupted. I realized, adding even more to my mortification, that Grams had abandoned her own task of peeling to give her full attention to Axel’s story. “I think it’s nice she dressed up.” God bless the woman for defending me and trying to make me feel better.

  “Grams, she didn’t dress up because it was the first day, it was because she hadn’t seen old Bobby-boy—”

  “Billy,” Ike interrupted, correcting him and earning a scowl from me.

  “Sorry, Billy,” Axel corrected himself. “She hadn’t seen Billy all summer, and she wanted to look,” he batted his lashes and shimmied in his seat, “sexy.”

  Ike laughed, and my cheeks flamed as I glowered at Axel. “On the list of people I like right now, there’s Grams and Ike, all of my friends and family, everyone else in the universe alive or dead, then there’s you. You’re at the bottom,” I told him.

  “Noted,” he replied dryly, then went on. “Mom and Dad had left for work by the time we left for school, so Charlotte was able to slip out wearing this little dress and a pair of heels they never would’ve let her out of the house in.”

  I scrunched my face in frustration. “It was not that sexy. You make it sound like I was about to go turn tricks.”

  “Charlotte!” my grandmother shrieked.

  “Sorry, Grams,” I apologized with a wince, “but he’s exaggerating.”

  “And you kiss your grandmother with that mouth,” Axel scoffed in a ridiculous Bronx accent.

  “That was actually pretty mild for Charlotte,” Ike chimed in. “I’ve never heard so many dirty words come out of such a pretty mouth.”

  “Ike!” It was my turn to shriek, throwing him a wide-eyed look. Grams didn’t need to know about my colorful vocabulary and how often I used it.

  This time he winced, and bit his lower lip giving me an apologetic glance. Grams twisted her mouth awkwardly, clearly trying not to be amused.

  “What is this? Gang up on Charlotte day?” I whined as I tossed my mostly eaten apple at Axel, hitting him in the chest.

  Grams pursed her lips and cut her eyes to me, feigning disappointment.

  “Okay, okay.” Axel held his hands up in surrender. “I’ll say this: the dress on a grown woman might have been okay, but on little flat chested, barely-crested-the-hill-of-puberty-Charlotte, it looked way too grown up.”

  “Ugghhh,” I moaned as I covered my face. “Why? Why must you do this to me?”

  “How many years has it been since I passed away?” he asked rhetorically. “I’m just makin
g up for lost time.”

  “Charlotte, it truly pains me to see you embarrassed, but I have to hear this,” Ike said apologetically, which would have been nice had he been even the slightest bit remorseful for encouraging my humiliation.

  “Picture it,” Axel held his hands out in front of them like he was framing a shot for a movie. “Charlotte, barely ninety-five pounds soaked in boots, dressed in a slinky little dress that hung on her like a wet blanket, revealing nothing but frail little arms and legs—”

  “He gets it, Axel,” I groaned.

  “So she arrives at school and heads to the cafeteria, ready to strut her stuff and catch the eye of her coveted Billy. She flings open the double doors and slips her jacket off as she sashays in.” Axel paused and met my glare drawing out the moment for maximum effect. He always had been, and apparently always would be, a master story-teller. Finally, when he was sure my humiliation was perfectly primed, he continued, “She strutted through the cafeteria toward the table where her friends sat, confused by the laughter that seemed to be filling the room.”

  “Oh, Charlotte,” Grams squeezed my arm sympathetically, all amusement gone. “Were they laughing at your dress?”

  “Not at all,” Axel chuckled with pleasure. “Pretty much the entire student body was laughing at her because when she’d dressed that morning, she didn’t realize she’d tucked the back of her dress in her underwear.”

  I covered my face with my hands as Axel continued to chortle.

  “Well I imagine that was a little embarrassing, but it doesn’t sound too bad.” Oh, how I loved Grams. Always trying to make me feel better or find a silver lining.