What Lies Between (Where One Goes Book 2)

by B. N. Toler

  “Other things?”

  Marlena’s mouth worked before she attempted to explain. “Charlotte isn’t dead, and though I’ve tried considerably, I’m unable to call her back as a result. I believe, in response to the trauma her brain has suffered, her abilities allowed her to come to you on the other side, even though she isn’t actually deceased.”

  “Maybe she is dead,” I shot back defensively, unable to hide my growing anger at the nonsense this woman was spewing. None of this made any sense. “Maybe these,” I waved my hand at the machines attached to and around Charlotte, “are just keeping her alive physically, but she has actually crossed over.” I glared defiantly at Marlena, unwilling to accept the implications of what she was claiming. There was no way I was going to placidly accept anything that could take Charlotte away from me—not when I’d just gotten her.

  Marlena pulled the sucker from her mouth with a wet pop as she let her stare drift to Charlotte, her voice calm and matter-of-fact when she finally spoke, “If she were truly dead, Ike, I would’ve been able to summon her.”

  Whirling around to face her square on, I crossed my arms. “You said it yourself—she’s different. Maybe that’s why you can’t summon.”

  Her green eyes pierced me as she raised an eyebrow, bobbing her head as she considered my statement. “She is special,” Marlena agreed cagily, clearly not believing my theory. After a moment she continued, “Look, Ike, I’m not saying what you suggest isn’t possible; despite what most think about people like me, I don’t know everything—there’s no special gifts or abilities guide book that I know of—so anything could be possible. But this has been my life a lot longer than it hasn’t, and while I know I don’t have all the answers, when you’ve seen as much as I have, you develop a sense of how things work. And in Charlotte’s case, that sense is telling me this isn’t her time.”

  What the hell does she mean? That Charlotte might wake up?

  Turning back to Charlotte, I fought back another surge of anger. We’d only just tasted the beauty of our eternity together, and now this woman was telling me it wasn’t her time. Our time. “What happened to her?” I finally asked.

  “Aneurysm. The last thing she was doing was trying to help a little girl trapped in a house they call the Hell House. They call the little girl Click.”

  “She’s mentioned her,” I said flatly as I remembered Charlotte explaining what happened with Click. Marlena’s brows lifted in surprise. “So she’s still there. The girl?” I asked.

  “She is, yes. I may not be able to help Charlotte directly, but maybe I can help Click.”

  My gaze fell to Charlotte’s face. “How long has she been like this?”

  “A few days”

  Did she say days? It felt like Charlotte had been on the other side with me for months.

  “I’m told time works a bit differently over there,” she said, having apparently read my shock at her disclosure.

  Several long moments passed in silence. “I’m sorry,” I eventually said and made a circular motion with my hand. “I’m just processing.”

  “Understandable, but I’m sorry, Ike, we haven’t much time. I can only hold you here for so long and George will be back soon.”

  My head shot up at my brother’s name. George. “How…how is he?”

  “Well, he’s hanging in there, but hurting tremendously,” she answered bluntly. “He’s the one who found her.”

  I closed my eyes at hearing confirmation of Charlotte’s fear and let out a heavy sigh, imagining once again how awful it had been for him, and the hell he must be going through right now. He had to want Charlotte to wake up, as badly as I wanted her to stay on the other side.

  “So you’re like Charlotte?”

  “I thought for sure I’d be all the rage on the other side, but clearly you’ve never heard of me,” she said with mock dismay.

  “I’ve never even heard of anyone being summoned on the other side.”

  She harrumphed, “Figures.” Turning serious she said, “Well, obviously I’m not like Charlotte, except that I have my own series on the tele back home, but yes, I do have abilities in the same vein as her. I can communicate with spirits on the other side and, as you can attest, I can even bring them back to this side if I want. I also have the ability to see things, the past mostly, but given the right parameters and circumstances, I sometimes catch glimpses of possible future outcomes.”

  “Possible outcomes?”

  “Yeah, that’s the rub. See, the future is always changing. A decision made today can change the course of one made yesterday that altered one made the day prior, and so on. If I do actually see anything, which isn’t as often as my producers would like,” she smirked dismissively, “there’s no guarantee it won’t change thirty seconds later.”

  “So at some point you saw that Charlotte lived, and that’s why you don’t think she’s dead?”

  “No,” she shook her head emphatically, “I haven’t seen anything, and I don’t expect I will, to be quite honest. Everyone around her is either too focused on what happened to her in the past, or believes she’s already gone. No, what makes me say this isn’t her time is the sense I keep getting that there’s still more for her to do here first.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me who you were when you brought me to the Hell House?” I asked, not wanting to discuss Charlotte’s destiny, as it were, any more.

  She snickered. “That,” she snickered, “was something else entirely. Neither of us were actually there.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her in confusion. “How is that?” I asked.

  “I can’t just yank spirits back at random; I need a reference point to work from, a bread crumb to follow. Yesterday, I was attempting to use George’s memory to build a conduit to Charlotte, so I could bring her here the way I brought you here. Instead, I created one to you.”

  “That just happened yesterday?” I asked incredulously before waving it off. “Never mind, that’s too much to grasp. How is it that you came to play a part in all of this?” I asked changing directions.

  “George contacted me before the accident about helping Charlotte with Click. Actually, come to think of it, we were having a meeting via Skype when it happened. When Charlotte’s agent told me she was in hospital, I flew over straight away to help in any way I could.”

  “But why?”

  Marlena sat on Charlotte’s bed and looked down at her. “She was having a tough go of it. George knew it was cutting her up inside.”

  “It still is,” I admitted. “She couldn’t help the girl cross over. It’s been hard on her.”

  Glancing back at me, she sighed. “It wasn’t just that. Her struggle with helping Click was just a tipping point for Charlotte. She’d already been doubting her faith; her purpose. She was becoming angry. She was soul-sick, Ike. And that’s worse than any physical ailment for people like us. You’re well aware that this isn’t something we can just turn off when we need a break, or when we’re tired of it all. There’s no escape from it, and it wears us down in ways not even the dead on the other side can understand.”

  I exhaled, completely depleting my lungs. It was painfully clear that I had no idea what Charlotte’s life had been like since I crossed over, especially right before she showed up on the other side. The way Marlena made it sound, Charlotte had been spiraling for some time, which I didn’t even want to think about. I never wanted her to be the way she was when I found her the day we met.

  “I know you have more questions, Ike, but now isn’t the time. I’ve held you here as long as I can, and I need to send you back. George is on his way, and I’m not keen on him learning I’ve contacted you. Not yet, at least.”

  I whipped my head toward the door. “Can I see him? Please? It’s not like he can see me, or anything.”

  I felt the weakness begin to wash over me as she shook her head, her expression pained as she spoke in a whisper, “I’m sorry, not this time. Tell Charlotte. If she understands what’s going on, maybe it’l
l be enough for me to reach her, but even if it isn’t, I need help with Click.”

  I swayed as everything shifted around me in slow-motion, Marlena’s voice growing more distant as the blackness took me. The return trip was definitely easier than my arrival. A fraction of a second later, I opened my eyes and was back on the cliff. The disorientation cleared quicker, but the weakness was just as bad in this direction. I grunted as I pushed my way up, noticing Charlotte was exactly how I’d left her—wrapped up in the bedsheet and sleeping peacefully.

  Seeing her lying there sent a wave of defeat through me. Charlotte. Wasn’t. Dead. I knew I shouldn’t be angry, but I was; worse, I couldn’t bring myself to care that she might actually have a chance to live a long and happy life with George. I finally had her. Here. With me. Then Marlena had gone and yanked me out of my eternal bliss and, in an instant, managed to kill me all over again. Desperate to feel Charlotte again, I moved to my feet and trudged over to the bed and slid in beside her.

  She instinctually rolled toward me, molding her body to mine and resting her head on my shoulder. “Are you happy?” she mumbled sleepily.

  Pressing my mouth to her forehead in a hard kiss, I squeezed her to me. “You have no idea, baby-girl,” I whispered, and that was the problem. I was happy. I was so fucking happy.

  She wiggled closer and drifted back to sleep as I stared up at the sky, fighting back the despair and self-pity. If it wasn’t her time, I had no choice but to let her go. Somehow, I’d have to find peace with that. The thing was, the thing I hated to admit, was that this time...I wasn’t sure I could.

  George

  Sniper was standing nearby when I got off the elevator, his head hung as he spoke on his cell phone. When he caught sight of me, he raised his head and quickly ended the call.

  “Everything okay?” I asked as I met him.

  His gaze cast away from me. “That was Anna. I have some bad news.”

  I stopped in front of him and waited for him to lay the bad news on me.

  “Mrs. Mercer,” he said. “She passed away this morning.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Shit. Are you serious?”

  Sniper ran a hand over his face as if to wipe away the sadness. “I really liked that old bird.”

  I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer. Mrs. Mercer was the best of the best. Charlotte would be devastated when she found out. The Mercers meant the world to her. My mind went to Mr. Mercer. His wife was all he had left, and I knew he had to be crushed. He’d called everyday with the exception of yesterday. I knew he understood, but I still felt awful we weren’t there for him.

  “He didn’t mention that she was so sick.”

  “Probably figured you had enough on your plate and didn’t want to add to it. I’m sorry to have dropped that bad news on you, George.”

  I clenched my fists as the anger surged. I was powerless against everything happening around me, and it was fucking infuriating.

  “Did Anna have anything else to say?” I asked, determined to push through the anxiety I was feeling.

  “She wanted an update on Charlotte, of course.”

  As we walked toward Charlotte’s room, it occurred to me that I hadn’t asked him how things were going between he and Anna. Before Charlotte and I had left for New York, she’d filled me in on a conversation between her and Sniper that Anna had overheard. According to my wife, Sniper was in the dog house.

  “How is everything?” I asked tentatively.

  He let out a loud sigh as if exasperated and shrugged, knowing what I was really asking. “Not good. I don’t know what to do. I wish I’d never bloody said anything,” he griped. “The subject of marriage hadn’t ever come up before, then Anna overhears one dumb thing I say about it, and now she’s giving me an ultimatum.”

  We stopped in front of Charlotte’s room, and I peered in through the small rectangular window. Marlena was standing with her back to us, a few feet from Charlotte’s bed. Something felt odd about the way she was standing, but she didn’t appear to be doing anything, so I refocused on Sniper. “Anna will come around,” I told him, giving him a pat on the back. “But if you know she’s not the one—as your friend, I’m telling you, if you care about her at all—you need to let her go. She deserves better than to be strung along.”

  He crossed his arms and stared into Charlotte’s room. “I think she is the one,” he sighed. “I just don’t understand why marriage is the ultimate proof of that? A piece of paper isn’t going to make me more or less committed.”

  I shrugged. “For you, maybe, but obviously she feels differently. It’s not just a piece of paper to her.”

  He nodded weakly. “I just don’t know what to do, George.”

  I was the last one who should be giving relationship advice, while my wife was fighting for her life on the other side of this door, and I’d have given anything to be in Sniper’s shoes at that moment, but when it came to Charlotte, the question had never been whether I wanted to marry her; it had always been whether she’d agree to marry me. For some reason, I thought of Mr. Mercer and what he must be going through at that moment.

  “You know, Mr. Mercer married his wife the day after she turned eighteen.” I chuckled a little, remembering the gleam in the old man’s eyes as he told Charlotte and me the story over dinner one night. “They snuck two towns over because her father didn’t approve, but they were determined.” I glanced at Sniper and added, “He worked three jobs until he saved enough money to buy their house. He said he’d gladly do it again if that’s what it took to spend the rest of his life with her.”

  “I didn’t know that about them,” Sniper admitted.

  “Imagine life without Anna,” I told him. “Imagine a life where she belongs to someone else; loves someone else. If you can imagine even one day where she isn’t yours, and still see yourself being happy…” I turned from the window to meet his eyes “…then let her go. Because if she really is the one, there’s no way you’d be able to imagine a life without her.” I opened the door and stepped into Charlotte’s room, noticing he didn’t move to follow. I let the door swing closed while he remained where he was, arms crossed, his expression stoic.

  Charlotte

  I was perched on a rock, my feet dangling in the cool rapids as I watched Axel flick his fly rod, murdering the art of the beloved sport. Talk about a fish out of water—fly fishing certainly wasn’t his forte. Ike, bless his soul, was doing his best to guide my boneheaded sibling, to no avail. There was no delicate way to put it, Axel sucked, but as I was the self-proclaimed mature sibling between the two of us, I kept my opinions to myself. It was, however, extremely entertaining to watch.

  “It’s all in the wrist,” Ike said, motioning his hand to demonstrate. While he went into more detail, I let my eyes wander as I absorbed our surroundings, my mind flittering through a Rolodex of thoughts. Ike had brought us here—he’d created it for us. It was the backyard of the McDermott’s home. For Ike, his family’s land was heaven. I suppose if we find a place like that while we’re alive, we’re damned lucky. As I stared into the glimmer of the water’s surface, an image of dark eyes and a face matted with wet hair looked back at me. George, the day he proposed. The corners of my mouth lifted as I remembered that day, one of the funniest, yet most romantic, moments of my life. I’d been so fortunate to be loved like that. I winced, the happy memory bringing me pain.

  “You look like a mermaid sitting there like that,” Ike called to me, distracting me from my thoughts. I blinked a few times to deter the tears burning my eyes and plastered on a smile, hoping neither of them noticed I was on the verge of crying.

  Axel darted his gaze between us as he smirked. “Is he serious?” he asked. “You look more like a wet otter to me.”

  I kicked my leg out, managing to splash him with water.

  “I think this rod is bowed or something,” Axel griped, yanking at his rod.

  “Yeah, it’s the rod,” I said dryly.

  “You’re doing pretty good f
or your first time,” Ike assured him before rolling into explaining what Axel needed to do for at least the twentieth time. The day was perfect and the company was even better, but try as I did to tamp it down, I felt off. I felt the urge to move, to keep busy, believing maybe that would force the uneasiness churning in the pit of my stomach to disappear. To distract myself, I pulled out the pocket watch I’d kept with me since my dream. It began ticking the moment I opened it, just like it had in my dream. I still couldn’t make sense of it, not that I’d really tried. I’d left it to sit in a corner of my mind while I’d focused on everything else going on, but every now and then I bumped into it. When that happened, I’d pull the watch out and see if anything magically revealed itself.

  The guys seemed to be content in the water, so I decided to visit Grams for a while. I was about to let them know I was leaving when I noticed the boy we’d seen on the cliff and in the field standing at the shoreline, silently watching us. I hadn’t exactly mastered the whole morphing bit and landed with one foot on a rock when I tried to morph to him, causing me to lose my balance and drop to my knees.

  “Shit,” I muttered, as my knee hit the ground.

  I glanced at the boy, who was staring at me. “Shit,” I said again, realizing I’d just cussed in front of a kid.

  Squeezing my eyes, closed I shook my head. “Sorry…don’t say shit. It’s bad.” I widened my eyes. Oh, for the love of all that’s holy, Char! How many times am I going to swear in front of a kid? This had to be a record, or something. I risked another glance at the little boy, but his expression was still blank as he watched me.

  Shoving my epic blunder as far behind me as I could, I settled more comfortably on my knees, thinking the closer I was to his level, the more likely I was to get him to respond to me. This is the third time he’d appeared...that couldn’t just be a coincidence. Could it be he wanted me to be his tour guide? I wasn’t sure I could do that, given I was still learning about this side myself.