What Lies Between (Where One Goes Book 2)

by B. N. Toler

  “I didn’t know it was her, I mean how could I, but... yeah...” she said, pausing. “She’s called to me in dreams, and a few times I felt something pulling at me. I thought it was all in my head.”

  Grams cleared her throat. “Charlotte? Are you okay?”

  Charlotte’s shoulders drooped before she sighed. “Confused.” She cut her gaze to Grams. “Why is this happening?”

  Grams sighed and pressed her mouth in a thin flat line. She didn’t have an answer; none of us did.

  “She’s going to try to reach out to you again, Charlotte,” I explained. “Soon. She thinks if you open your mind to it, she’ll be able to communicate with you.”

  Charlotte snorted. “Great.”

  I stood, stepping toward her with the intention of comforting her, but she held her hand up to stop me before I’d taken a step. “I need some space.”

  I had expected there to be fallout from keeping the truth from her, but it stung bitterly nonetheless, and it took a moment for me to recover from the blow before I returned to my seat on the couch. Grams gave my leg a sympathetic pat.

  Charlotte’s conflicted gaze met mine, and I braced for the lecture I deserved, but it didn’t come. “What did she mean by opening my mind? Just to simply believe that I’m alive?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. Marlena hadn’t provided any tips; though, to be honest, I hadn’t exactly been in a listening mood. Charlotte fisted her hair as if overwhelmed by it all. Christ, I’m an asshole. So much for the sun dying for the moon…

  “Just open my mind,” she mumbled.

  The second I raised my head to look at her, she vanished. Everyone in the room froze, our eyes moving around to see if she’d reappear.

  After a few moments Axel said, “You try first.” He’d apparently had the same thought I’d had, and we both had tried unsuccessfully to morph to her. “Maybe we can’t both go to her at the same exact time,” he added.

  I pictured myself beside her the way I always did, but nothing happened. I shook my head, panic rising after Axel tried and also failed. No, not like this! My stomach reeled at the possibility that we’d just watched Charlotte leave the afterlife.

  I buried my head in my hands, dread consuming me as my biggest fear seemed to be playing out in front of me. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to her. The last thing she’d remember was that I’d hid a huge secret from her.

  “Maybe Marlena summoned her,” Axel suggested hopefully.

  Grams slowly shook her head, “Ike never disappeared when she summoned him; he was physically still here.”

  The stunned silence lengthened as we each absorbed our new reality. Charlotte. Was gone.

  “Grams?” Axel asked quietly, his voice carrying an echo of hope that we were wrong.

  “There’s no way to know,” she said. “All we can do is pray she’s okay. That’s all that matters.”

  “But would she?” he asked. “Leave us?”

  I pulled my head from my hands at his question, looking for any sign of hope in her expression, but all I saw was an apology. Her voice was filled with sympathy as she met my gaze and said softly, “If she can, she should.”

  My heart shattered as it hit the floor.

  “Ike, honey,” Grams said as she moved in front of me and took my hands in hers, tugging gently so I’d meet her gaze. “I’ve been waiting for my soulmate to join me for a very long time, so I can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel to finally have him here, only to lose him again, but I do know I’d never want to keep him here if it wasn’t his time. We truly don’t know if this is Charlotte’s time, but if it isn’t, do you really want to rob her of the life she’s meant to live?” She squeezed my hands before continuing, “Charlotte is special, and her gift obviously has an impact, so there may not be any choice in this for her to make, but as much as we want her with us, if she’s blessed with the opportunity to return to her life and grow old, she should take it.”

  Grams was right, but in my selfishness all I could think about was how unfair it all was. This is why I had been afraid to tell her—I knew there was a chance that she’d just be gone, and we wouldn’t even get to say goodbye.

  “Whiskey,” Grams said abruptly as she smoothed out the skirt of her dress. Axel and I stared blankly at her, dumbfounded. She nodded decisively, as if settling and unseen argument, then reached for our hands and pulled Axel and me behind her.

  “Whiskey,” she said again on a long exhale. “Lots of whiskey.”

  Charlotte

  I wiped my clammy hands on my pants and swallowed down the dry lump in my throat. Why was I so thirsty? Slowly, I spun around, taking in the room. It didn’t matter that I had known where I was going—or rather I knew where I was trying to go—the shock of seeing my own body lying motionless in a hospital bed hit me like a bucket of ice water. I’d heard of out-of-body experiences, but nothing could really prepare a person for a moment like this.

  My gaze darted around the room, disbelief stinging my senses. My father was facing the window with his arms crossed. From his reflection in the glass, I could see his eyes were closed and his lips were moving, and I realized he was praying. I strained to hear what he was saying.

  Forgive me. Please do not take her. She is the only child that I have left. Have mercy.

  He was in pain. It was stitched across his face, creases of worry and fear tapered in the corners of his eyes. My heart softened, and a little of the hurt I still felt seeped out. Even with our differences, I would never wish him pain. My mother sat in a chair next to my bed, holding my hand, wiping her nose with a tissue that had reached its expiration about seven thousand wipes before.

  Then I saw George—my beautiful husband. He was slumped against the wall, like a sad discarded painting—out of the way, but still casting his despair upon the room, adding to the incredibly sad ambiance.

  “The results from her latest EEG this morning show no change from her previous one. While that is an indication that she’s stable, there is also no indication that she will come out of the coma.” The statement came from a doctor I hadn’t seen standing in the corner of the room. He looked equally exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes clearly visible behind the thick black-framed glasses perched on his narrow nose.

  “It’s only been a few days,” my father grumbled.

  “George,” the doctor said, ignoring my father. “You’ll remember we discussed the importance of seeing improvement during the first seventy-two hours after her surgery. The fact we were able to repair the aneurysm before it ruptured, and her subsequent scans showing no indication of bleeding, bought her some time, but we have no way of knowing the cumulative effects from the aneurysm pressing on her brain. In the unlikely scenario where she does wake up, she will have cognitive and mental impairments, some of which may be permanent. Even in a best-case scenario, she will require extensive rehabilitation and palliative care. Worst case, she’ll be fully dependent on medical assistance with little to no quality of life.”

  “We’d take care of her,” my mother whimpered.

  “Yes, we would,” my father confirmed.

  My chest constricted and anger punched at me. Were they serious? Their daughter seeing spirits was too daunting for them, so much so they sent me away, but they were all in with signing on to care for me when I would literally not be able to care for myself? I couldn’t believe they’d let me wake up and live as a vegetable. What in the hell kind of life would that be? I knew I was the only child they had left, and they did not want to lose me, but it was ridiculous.

  Looking back at George, I hoped I could see where his mind was. “George!” I called to him. Of course he couldn’t hear me, but that didn’t stop me. “Don’t let that happen to me, George,” I begged. He let his head fall forward to hang limply. Grief had stripped him. He still looked like George—brown eyes and shaggy hair—but this ordeal had taken its toll and he more closely resembled the man I had met years before, when he was mourning the loss of his b
rother, than the man who’d stood by my side ready to conquer the world just a short time ago.

  After a moment, the doctor sighed and turned back to George. “Look, I’m not saying you have to decide right this minute. However, in my experience, we’ve crossed over the line and the odds are now against us, and she will begin to deteriorate. The body just isn’t built to withstand prolonged medical intervention, and you will need to decide whether or not you wish to continue life support very soon.”

  My mother let out a broken sob before she fled the room, and my father rushed out after her.

  “Take some time to digest all of this; I know there’s a lot to consider. I’ll have the social worker who specializes in helping families make this decision stop by later today with more information.” He patted George on the shoulder and left the room.

  Now that he was alone, George seemed to deflate, the last bit of hope he’d been holding onto seeping out of him. His face was covered in scruff—he hadn’t shaved in days and his hair was disheveled. He rounded the bed, collapsing into the chair my mother had bolted from and laid his head beside me on the bed. He pulled my hand from my side and positioned it on his head, the way I did when he’d lay out on the couch and put his head in my lap. He sat motionless for a few minutes, then his body began convulsing as the sobs wrenched from deep within him.

  Agony tore through me at seeing his pain. Rushing to the bed, I lunged toward him over my lifeless body and cried, “I love you, George McDermott.” His head popped up abruptly, and he looked right at me, his eyes swollen and red. I froze, stunned. Had he heard me?

  A few seconds passed and his gaze fell. He pulled my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “I don’t know how to do this, Charlotte,” he rasped before swallowing hard.

  More than anything, I wanted to hold him—to comfort him. “You can’t sign up for a life of caring for me, babe. You have so much to give, George.” I knew he couldn’t hear me, but I had to say these things to him. Somewhere in the back of my mind I saw the image I’d had in our hotel of him brushing a little girl’s hair…our little girl’s hair. The gentleness he had with her, the love and adoration in his smile…it was beautiful. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give her to you, George.” The tears fell, dripping down my face. “A little girl with my eyes and your hair. You deserved it. I’m so sorry I went without you that day. I should never have left you. Please,” I sobbed. “Please forgive me, George.”

  The door of my hospital room opened and a thin woman with green eyes drifted in, graceful and quiet. When her eyes met mine, her step faltered, but she quickly recovered it and kept moving. Had I not spent so many years doing the same thing whenever I saw a spirit, I would have missed it, but I knew she’d seen me. Based on what Ike had told me, this had to be Marlena.

  “I need to speak with you,” I told her without preamble. Her facial features tightened for a fraction of a second, but that was all the response I got.

  “George, love,” she said, her thick accent the one I’d heard in my dream. “I’m going to step out for a bit, give you and your family some space. Is there anything I can get you while I’m out?”

  George shook his head as he shot her an appreciative glance, “No. But thank you.”

  Marlena nodded and left the room. I looked longingly at George, wishing I could comfort him. I hated to leave him in this state.

  I loved Ike and George equally, but I knew that wasn’t enough. Even though my life, and overall existence, had never really fit within the box of rules, somehow I didn’t think that would let me have two soulmates in the afterlife.

  I rolled my eyes at myself. How would that even work?

  I started to shake that thought away, but stopped. How would it have worked if Ike hadn’t been dead when I met him? Would I have fallen in love with both men? My soul was linked to Ike, I knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. Being with Ike wasn’t an option while I was alive, but was that the only reason I’d fallen in love with George?

  I glanced down and saw George had returned my hand to his hair, and it triggered all of the memories of our life together, and I knew I was just as linked to George as I was Ike. Maybe it wasn’t about soulmates when it came to who you’re with after you die, not really. Maybe it’s more about loving someone with your whole heart, and cherishing every moment you have, when you have them, because there’s no guarantee of how many more moments you’ll get in your life.

  “You, George McDermott, are the love of my life, and you always will be.” I whispered to him. “No matter what happens. I love you.”

  Determined not to get pulled under by the despair I felt, I fled the room and followed Marlena, ready to pummel her with questions as soon as we were in the hall. I drew up short at seeing more of my favorite people lingering outside my room. My in-laws sat holding hands on a bench, their heads leaned together. Cameron sat on the end near them, eyes closed with his head against the wall. Sniper leaned against the wall, fiddling with his phone. And sweet Mr. Mercer sat opposite of the McDermotts, staring blankly in front of him. He’d just lost his wife and still made the trip to New York to see me. My stomach tightened. Ike had described how awful it had been to be in limbo and see his family mourn, and now I knew how it felt. This was unbearable.

  A mixture of despair and defeat lined all their faces.

  “I’m going to pop out for a bit, can I bring any of you coffee or food, or anything?” Marlena asked the group. Everyone thanked her but declined. Marlena cut a quick glance at me, before heading to the elevators. I understood how frustrating it could be to have a soul talking to you when you couldn’t reveal you were seeing them to others, so I waited until the doors to the elevator shut before I spoke again.

  “Hello, Marlena,” I said simply, hoping to skip the usual rigamarole and get down to business.

  “Guess you figured it all out, eh? I was worried Ike wouldn’t tell you,” she said as she hit the button to take us to the lobby.

  “Technically, he didn’t. I guess he was going to, but someone beat him to it.”

  She snorted. “Well, you showed up at the perfect time. I take it you were there for the ‘pull the plug’ bit?”

  I reared back slightly, surprised at her bluntness. “Ike mentioned you were psychic, too. I guess that means very little comes as a shock to you.”

  She waggled her hand from side to side. “I can still be surprised. When I see future events, they’re usually just glimpses of what could happen, provided nothing comes along to change anything, which something usually does. I’ve just been doing this long enough to recognize the patterns,” she added with a wry smile, and I knew exactly what she meant. She crossed her arms as if she were cold and said, “Well, let’s get on with it, shall we?

  “With what?”

  “The girl.”

  “I tried,” I huffed in defeat, realizing she meant Click. “I thought I had it figured out. I felt her shift and saw it in her eyes, but she doesn’t get it. I don’t think she knows how to cross over.”

  We walked off the elevator and outside. Marlena stopped at a street cart and bought a coffee, then sat on a bench.

  “Shouldn’t we be going? What if you lose your connection to me?”

  “Impossible,” she murmured before removing the lid off the cup and blowing on the liquid. “I have no connection to you.”

  I narrowed my stare at her. “Then how am I here?”

  She winced as she took a small sip, the coffee still too hot to drink. “You brought yourself here. Why on earth would I summon you and put you in a room I wasn’t even in?” she scoffed as if I was a simpleton.

  My brows lifted in surprise. I’d crossed over on my own? In the moment, I’d just thought open up your mind and go to the hospital, but I figured it was Marlena’s reach that had actually pulled me there. Knowing I’d done it on my own, and without realizing I’d done it, actually scared me a little.

  “Tell me what you’ve done...with the girl,” Marlena said.

  I sat beside
her on the bench and sighed, “I think she’s autistic. And she likes piano...that’s why she does the fingers.” I lifted my hand and imitated Click. “Für Elise is her favorite. I played it for her on my phone and she loved it. That was the day I had the head thing.”

  “I know. I saw. George kept playing that awful piano composition for you in your hospital room.”

  I narrowed my gaze at her. “He did?”

  “Found it on your phone and thought you liked it…because you played piano. I hadn’t yet seen why you had it on your phone until I went to the Hell House.”

  I shifted my gaze straight ahead, my eyes blurring with tears. I’d heard the music. I’d heard him play it for me from the other side. He was with me all along. Guilt slithered through me. How did I not know?

  Marlena lowered her head. “Her last day alive...it was terrible.”

  “You saw it? The other two girls I found there…” my throat felt tight. “They described some terrible things.”

  “She needs our help.”

  Tears overflowed and ran down my cheeks as I thought of Click. I didn’t want to fathom anything worse than I’d already come up with on my own. “It’s so unfair. How could that have happened? How could God let that happen, and then leave her there alone and in the dark?”

  Marlena tilted her head. “Or maybe it’s more that God sent you to help her.”

  I wiped at my face, my features contorting in disagreement. “Except I didn’t help her.”

  Marlena smiled as she stood, and I followed as she began walking. “Unlike you, my gifts came to me early. I don’t really know if I was born with them, or if something that happened to me triggered it.”

  “Did something happen to you?”

  “My mother suffered from schizophrenia. I was too young to understand what was happening and she absolutely terrified me.” I frowned, understanding how she felt. “She tried to drown me in the bathtub when I was four because the voices told her to.”

  I cringed. My parental situation wasn’t sounding so bad compared to Marlena’s.