Rage in Pain Roz: The R.I.P. Series Book 2

by Kris Johnston

  I felt him slip something small into my palm before closing my fingers tightly around it. He lifted my hand up and turned it slowly before placing a kiss on my inner wrist.

  “What is it?” I asked, allowing my fingers to fall open as I looked at the small item.

  “It's a pocket goddess,” he explained. It lay in my hand as I examined it. It was little, maybe an inch and a half in diameter, and carved from unfinished wood. It was smooth against my skin, and pale in color.

  The ‘goddess’ at first glance, looked like a small star carved from wood. But on further inspection, it was obvious the figure had a bosom and short, squat legs. The faceless carving felt like a tiny handful of happy, and I immediately loved it.

  “You're supposed to carry her in your pocket,” he said softly, “ and rub it between your fingers when you get worried or unhappy. That's why it's so worn, because I rubbed the hell out of it when I was in the hospital and thought I had lost my mind.”

  I let the little figure roll around in my hands before stroking its smoothness with my thumb. I smiled up at him.

  “Thank you,” I said, “But why would you think this isn't a dream? Isn't it obvious that it is? I mean, I just appeared in your room out of nowhere….”

  He nodded, and grew serious. “I've been learning about magic since I woke up as Parker, and there are all sorts of it. Some is used for good, some for bad. And some can be used when we are asleep, unaware of what we're capable of.” he said. His tone was low, and for the smallest of seconds I could have sworn it was Jimmy’s voice. “I remember all those crazy dreams you used to have, back when I was still myself.” He paused, deep in thought. “I remember being caught in your dreams, Roz, and having to pull you back out of them.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly, trying to grasp what he was getting at. “So we experienced the same dreams together, that doesn't mean--”

  “And what about Drew?” He asked. “I was there the night you shared a dream with him, even if you couldn't see me.”

  Subconsciously, I stroked the pocket goddess.

  “Again,” I insisted, “It doesn't prove anythi--”

  “Rosalind,” he interrupted, his voice imploring, “Baby, this body was asleep for over a month in the hospital. It knows when it's awake, and it knows when it isn't. And honey, I'm awake right now.”

  I stared up at him, unconvinced. Of course my dreaming mind would want this to be real. Real meant Jimmy was actually alive, even if he was alive as Parker. I didn't care who he looked like, what body he was in, none of it, so long as he was of flesh and blood.

  “Come,” he said, pulling my hand. “Lie with me like we used to, back when I was still dead and nothing but cold air.”

  I sighed happily. “I've missed that.”

  He led me to his bed and wrapped me up beneath the blankets. Soon, his hands were caressing my hair like he always used to, and my soul felt such exquisite peace, I thought I might die.

  “When you wake up, make sure to check your hand,” he said softly. “If the pocket goddess is there, we'll know it's real.”

  I nestled my body into his and clung tightly to the little wooden figure, unwilling to believe this could be anything more than a dream.

  “I love you Jimmy,” I whispered. “But in the morning, I'll wake up and know that this was all nothing more than a beautiful dream.”

  “I love you, Roz,” he replied. “And in the morning, when you see the pocket goddess still in your hand, try not to freak out too much, ok?”

  He winked at me, and kissed my forehead.

  Bliss.

  Chapter 12

  ~Roz~

  Light streaming into the window, and subsequently, into my eyes, forced me to awaken much earlier than I'd wanted to on a Sunday morning. I stretched for a moment, wondering why I had woken up with my heart full of happiness as opposed to the usual sorrow and self-loathing. Then, my dream came back to me in full force, and I lurched up, jumping from the bed as my heart did a somersault in its cage.

  Jimmy had come back to me.

  Remembering the pocket goddess, I looked down and opened my hands. They were trembling, wide open, and completely empty.

  I knew it.

  I sighed, feeling wave after wave of disappointment crash into me. I glanced at the pillow to see if the little goddess was there, but no. It was just a pillow with no magical little piece of wood sitting upon it. I flopped back down on the bed and curled into a ball, feeling stupid and so very, very disappointed.

  I knew I had been dreaming. He's gone forever, accept it already. Dreaming of him being alive in Parker’s body was no more than grasping at straws.

  My phone buzzed on the nightstand beside my bed, and groaning in agitation (and, let's be honest, self-pity), I picked it up and looked.

  Drew: You up yet little sis?

  Me: It's SUNDAY morning! NO!

  Drew: Didn’t think so. I had to open the shop this morning for Ben and figured since I was here, I'd treat you to a cup of coffee and tell you all about my hot date. But, since it's SUNDAY….

  Drew’s blind date was last night!

  Me: I'll be there ASAP!! Add a quad shot to mine, please. I slept like poop.

  Drew: Bonnie said she's hitting the farmer’s market soon, so she'll drop you off here.

  Me: You already texted Bonnie this morning?

  Drew: Who else would've gotten me up at 5am to ask about my date???

  Me: I love her. She's my hero.

  Drew: Lol good thing, you're totally turning into her, you know.

  Me: Haha, that's a compliment! See you soon! Xo

  Drew: Xoxo

  I sighed and set the phone down. His texts always brought a smile to my heart, even when I was feeling so low it was hard to raise my head. And today, my head most definitely wanted to stay down.

  How could I have even entertained the thought that last night wasn't a dream? That it was real? Sure, since coming to Marion I'd learned magic was a real thing, but believing a dream could be anything more than the mind playing tricks on me was something else entirely.

  How embarrassing. I'm completely certifiable!

  A loud knock pounded on my door and was immediately followed by a way-too-perky Bonnie, poking her head in.

  “Are you decent?” She asked. “I'm leaving in fifteen minutes!”

  I groaned once more and stood up. “If this was for anyone other than Drew, I'd not be getting dressed this early.”

  She grinned. “I was surprised when he told me you were up. Now get a move on, Gorgeous! I've got squash and strawberries to buy!”

  I grimaced, walking to the closet. “Squash and strawberries?” For some reason, I imagined her using them both for smoothie ingredients, which made my stomach rumble in protest. “That sounds like a nasty combo!”

  She chuckled. “It's not all for one dish, silly.” Then her eyes gleamed wickedly. “Or is it?”

  Laughing at her own humor, she closed the door and left me to get dressed.

  Ugh.

  ***

  Bonnie and her glorious VW hippie-van (as I liked to call it), dropped me off safely at Ben’s Beans, our local little coffee shop. It was full of charm, leafy plants, twinkle lights, comfy chairs, and a beautiful big fireplace which was, for the current months, not in use.

  I maneuvered my bag across my shoulder and pushed the door open. It was early September and only 7:30am, yet it was stifling hot. The humidity soaked my bare arms and legs in a coating of sweat that made my Inner Roz proud for finally shucking the heavy hoodies and leggings.

  I had decided sometime over the past few months that I couldn't keep hiding the ample chest and curves I'd been blessed with forever. It didn't mean I was flaunting my body, mind you. But I was now comfortable going out in a sleeveless shirt and shorts.

  I entered the door, ignoring the admiring glances of a flanneled hipster who sat with a book and a tiny cup of espresso. I inwardly shook my head that anyone would choose to wear a flannel in this sort of
humidity, but realized how hypocritical it made me. The summer before coming to Marion, I lived in my hoodie.

  How things have changed!

  I walked straight to the large oak counter where Drew stood, and took stock of his handsome features. He looked tired but happy, and his eyes took on an excited shine when he saw me approach.

  “Girl!” He exclaimed as I made my way through the tables. “You weren't lying! You do look like poop!”

  I huffed.

  “I said I slept like poop, not that I looked like it!”

  He chuckled and pushed forward a drink he had first called The Roz Special when we met. It was a frothy, sweet concoction of coffee, sweet cream, mocha, and caramel. Now, however, the drink was a regular menu item and had been dubbed simply as, “The Roz.” It was topped with an almond-flavored whipped cream, chocolate shavings, and a butterscotch drizzle.

  “It has a quad shot, as requested, m’lady,” Drew said, smiling.

  I grinned and took a long drink through the straw. “I love you,” I sighed happily.

  He laughed. “I love you back. Now come on, let's sit and talk.” He started moving from around the counter.

  “Uh, don't you have to work?” I asked.

  “Ray just showed up, he's in the back getting his apron on now. That's why I'm here on my day off,” Drew explained. “Ray had a wicked night. Talk about looking like poop!”

  He grinned as I followed him through the shop. He led me to the small, well-worn sofa before the unlit fireplace and together, we sat.

  “So,” I said. “Ezekiel, hmm?”

  His beautiful, dark skin blushed and his dark, grey- green eyes gleamed even brighter.

  “He's amazing!” He exclaimed. “Roz, I had no idea I could make a connection like that in only one date!”

  My eyes grew big as I listened. “Seriously?” I asked. “You already picking out your china pattern?”

  He scoffed at me. “Please, we are so not there yet. But… I feel so good about this! I just know my mama would love him if she were here.”

  My heart poured out for Drew as I quietly understood what this was about. If his mother were alive, he'd be having this talk about his new beau with her. However, since she wasn't here, and since Drew and I had shared the same dream about her the night she'd died, he was reaching out for me, instead.

  I grasped his hand and squeezed. “Tell me all about him!” I exclaimed.

  ***

  After nearly two hours of listening to Drew go on and on about Ezekiel (ok, slight exaggeration there- we also talked about my first week back to school. That part of the conversation took three whole minutes. I did not mention the Parker thing, FYI), Bonnie returned to pick me up and take me home.

  We spent a great day as a family in the backyard, throwing the frisbee, cracking jokes, paying with the dogs. When dinner time came, Mitch grilled the eggplant, squash, mushrooms, and red potatoes Bonnie had purchased at the farmer’s market, while she and I set the table. We ate our meal outside, then Bonnie and I set up our easels side-by-side on the deck. Amelia and Vincent played soccer in the dying grass, and the dogs soaked up the sun.

  Tobias, the cat, was of course nowhere to be seen. I'm pretty sure he figured he was above the normalcy of such mundane family activities. His loss.

  It was exactly what I needed after the terrible week and strange dream of the night before. Family, regardless of the form it comes to you in, should never be taken for granted.

  It was wonderful painting beside Bonnie again. I'd had no thoughts of what I was going to create on my canvas, and simply painted. Eventually, however, I recognized the shape my image was taking before me, and once I realized what I was painting, I went at it with gusto.

  Before I knew it, I was done. It was a hand, a male hand to be precise, palm facing upward. Nestled within its slightly curved hollow, rested the same pocket goddess of my dream.

  “So cool!” Bonnie exclaimed beside me, peering at my work. I looked at her canvas and my jaw dropped. She'd painted the kids playing soccer, but it was so lifelike and well done, I was in awe.

  “Beautiful job,” I said in admiration. She smiled.

  “Hey, is that a pocket goddess?” She asked, nodding to my canvas. “I used to buy them for my pagan friends.”

  I glanced at her. “Really? You know what this is?”

  “Sure! I have friends who are pagan and some who are into witchcraft. Pocket goddesses are popular in their communities.”

  I digested her words carefully, stunned that she would be aware.

  “Who are your friends?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Some people I went to high school with. Nobody you would know, I'm sure.”

  I nodded. “Do you would know where I could buy one of these?” I gestured to my painting.

  “Don't you know Mystical’s Mystics? It's the bookstore a few doors down from the coffee shop. They sell them there, along with tarot cards, spell candles, anything you can think of that involves the spirit world.”

  I nodded slowly, realizing that Bonnie had inadvertently steered me in a new direction: Finding out as much as I possibly could about witchcraft, magic, and my dreams.

  A spiritual bookstore like that would almost certainly be frequented by The Pastels, I mused. I wondered why they'd never mentioned it before, as it might be the one place where I could possibly find some answers to my questions. At the very least, I'd walk away with more questions and zero answers, but that was life sometimes wasn't it?

  Later that night, having filled up on grilled veggies (and coffee ice cream as a dessert), I entered my bedroom. Taking in the sight before me, I sighed. I'd left in such a rush this morning, I had neglected to make my bed.

  I leaned across the bedding and ran my hands across the sheets, attempting to straighten it out as best as I could. I didn't notice the gasp escape me when my hand slid beneath the comforter and brushed against something hard and smooth.

  My breath stopped.

  Pulling the bedding away from the bed, my heart exploded and the world fell away.

  Lying on the purple sheet, was the little wooden pocket goddess from my dream.

  Chapter 13

  ~Jimmy~

  The first time I saw Roz after she visited me in my bedroom late Saturday night, I knew.

  She had found the pocket goddess.

  In class that morning, she refused to look my way at all. Her eyes had an odd, glassy quality to them and were heavy with some serious-looking dark circles. Her thick, lustrous hair was pulled up into a bun of sorts, and she was dressed in old, baggy jeans and a plain white shirt.

  Her appearance was something of a surprise, considering the first week of school she had dressed in a rather stylish manner that enhanced her figure and beauty. Today, however, she looked like she hadn't slept a wink and if I knew Roz (and I did), then it meant one thing- she hadn't slept at all last night.

  Which told me something else. She was afraid to sleep, because she was afraid of her dreams.

  I was slowly beginning to understand the concept of magic, and I knew Roz had some in her. Her dreams. Her power to transport herself through sleep. It all indicated something supernatural, even if I didn't know what, exactly. Well, not yet anyway. For the sake of my love, my earth angel, I was determined to learn everything about the paranormal world so I could help her understand what she was.

  And she was something. Something special. Something beautiful. Something misunderstood. Something magical. Something powerful.

  I could feel it in my bones.

  Roz might have friends who were witches, and a boyfriend who had once been a ghost, but she'd discredited the notion that she herself could be something more than what she was.

  When I really stopped to think hard on it, it made sense. She'd been the only one who had ever seen me while I was a spirit. She'd shared dreams with other people, almost like she'd entered their minds in sleep. She'd pulled me into her own dreams several times, as well. And this past weekend, she s
howed up in the middle of my bedroom out of thin air.

  If she wasn't something otherworldly, then I don't know what was. My main concern now, was how to get her to acknowledge that her dreams were not dreams at all, but real life. That, in and of itself, was not going to be an easy feat. Not when believing it would force her to believe she actually belonged to the same world as The Pastels. And then of course, there was the matter of my true identity. Once she accepted that she was something more, she'd have to believe I was Jimmy.

  She'd have to. Right?

  ***

  Monday passed by uneventfully, except for the small matter of Elizabeth. I made several attempts to brush her off and give her the cold shoulder, but she refused to take a hint. Everywhere I turned, she was there. By my locker. Waiting outside my class. Lurking in the hallways.

  It was enough to make me sympathize for anyone who'd ever been stalked by another person before.

  It wasn't that Elizabeth wasn't beautiful, because she was. She had that sort of ice princess look that would make a lot of men beg and plead for just one of her glances. But she was incredibly pushy and clingy, and although she had been nothing but nice to me, I could see an ugliness behind her cold, dark eyes.

  In fact, that ugliness made its first official appearance during lunch that day.

  I had somehow successfully managed to sneak past her in the hall on my way to the cafeteria, and I released a sigh of relief. Not having her hanging on my arm would mean I could approach the one person I wanted to speak with more than anything.

  I happily retrieved my food items from the lunch line and mused at how amazing food tasted to me now that I was alive. Even school cafeteria food was like a gourmet meal and I always ate everything with relish. Prudence wasn't much of a cook, but even the burnt meals I ate at home were culinary masterpieces to my palate.