Rest in Peace Roz: The R.I.P. Series Book 1

by Kris Johnston

  “I’ll always love you, Rosalind,” he said. And then he took one last step forward, into the beautiful white light. It flickered and flashed like a dying candle flame, and then was gone, taking my love and my hope with it.

  Unable to withstand this final anguish, my body crumpled to the floor.

  CHAPTER 45

  The days following the incident were a blur.

  Apparently, Parker had flatlined on his way to the hospital, but they revived him enough to put him on life support, and he stayed that way. The doctors had given his family no hope for recovery. The family was waiting for a miracle, or magic no doubt, to save him. But the doctors had been adamant. There was zero chance for Parker Evans.

  Good riddance.

  Because of him, everything had gone wrong. I hadn’t been able to spend the last couple of weeks of Jimmy’s existence with him, as it should have been. I understood the white light coming to claim my love was not because of Parker, but the fact that I had missed out on being in his presence due to that stupid spell nearly destroyed me.

  Once the Evans family would agree to take Parker off life support, I hoped he suffered every bit as much as he made me suffer. And then some. Perhaps then, knowing he burned in hell for all of eternity, I could find some peace.

  Devon had concocted some crazy story for the authorities, about how an electrical line had been exposed in the cafeteria, causing Parker’s injuries and the slight damage to the school. I have no idea how everyone bought it, except to say that she had magic on her side, so who knows? Maybe she did a spell that played with their minds to convince them of it. Either way, it worked for us. The less who knew the truth, the better. We couldn’t exactly go running around telling everyone Devon had electrocuted someone with her bare hand now, could we?

  I did my best to live my life, as Jimmy had wanted for me, but it was so hard. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, and when I did sleep, I no longer had any dreams. I missed that. Although my dreams had been terrifying at times, there were other moments in which they’d been amazing, incredible. It was as if Jimmy had taken everything special with him, including the best parts of me.

  Oh, how I missed him.

  My soul ached for his.

  At the same time, I prayed that he was finally at peace.

  I prayed that wherever he was, it was beautiful and full of amazing sights and sounds, and that he was sitting somewhere shooting the breeze with his idol, James Dean. I wanted that for him. When the pain got to be almost too much to withstand, I’d close my eyes and picture the two of them hanging out on top of a cloud, looking down at the rest of us and laughing as they talked about cars and girls and life. It didn’t ease the pain (nothing would), but it did bring a bitter smile to my face.

  Odie became a constant visitor at my house. She walked me home from school everyday and stayed with me until after dinner, letting me mope or watch old movies or listen to music, or just do nothing but stare off into space. She allowed me this, because she knew I needed it. She knew I needed to cope with the loss of Jimmy in whatever method I chose.

  And I loved her for it.

  She had begun dating some guy from school, and was over the moon about it all. I was happy for her. Will seemed like a nice, decent guy, and he made my best friend smile constantly. As long as he kept doing that, I’d approve.

  Honestly, though, I was glad someone else had her attention. I couldn’t stand knowing she worried about me all the time.

  I had no idea how to cope with my heartache, but one thing was for certain, I certainly was not living. The knowledge that Jimmy would be so disappointed in me only made me disappointed in myself, but I couldn’t force it. I was grieving the loss of my one, true love, and I needed time to let him go.

  Let him go.

  As if that could ever happen.

  Just the thought of it hurt more than any single thing had in my entire existence.

  School let out for the summer, and I was relieved. It meant I didn’t have to pretend to all my teachers that I was alright, or cared about my schoolwork. It meant that I got a reprieve from the bullcrap and endless lessons. It meant I could sleep in my bed all day, everyday, for the next three months.

  And that’s what I did.

  The first two weeks of summer, I slept. Odie came over once in awhile, but I couldn’t even rouse myself for her. Sleep was where the pain stopped. It was where I could be numb. It was the only place I could escape to without feeling the agony pulsate within my chest.

  Two weeks, however, was all I’d been allowed, and then Bonnie had had enough.

  I had managed to pull my weary self into the kitchen and pour a bowl of cereal. I must have looked a fright. I don’t remember the last time I’d showered or brushed my hair, and I was dressed in my old, baggy, dirty sweat pants and some faded old t-shirt.

  “Rosalind Pastrano!” Bonnie exclaimed when she came in and found me like that. “What have you done to yourself? I don’t know why you’ve been so depressed ever since the Art Fling, but listen to me young lady, you are going to go take a shower and pull yourself together, do you hear me? I know you’ve been through a lot in your life, but wallowing in it is never the--”

  The doorbell interrupted her just as she was getting going.

  Aw. Shucks.

  I shrugged and continued to munch on my cereal, not caring about who was at the door or even the slightest bit upset by Bonnie’s remarks. Everything she’d said was true, anyway. I was a mess. I was wallowing. I couldn’t seem to pull myself back together again.

  All true.

  If she’d known all the reasons why I was so miserable and wanted to do nothing but sleep all day, surely she would have given me a pass.

  Bonnie went to the front door and opened it, and gave long, loud shriek.

  Startled, I set the bowl down on the counter and meandered sleepily over to her, to see what could have caused such a reaction from her.

  There, looking happy with a brilliant smile, and dressed in a beautiful pink dress, stood Amelia.

  Juanita stood directly behind her, with tears in her eyes and a big smile on her face.

  “Surprise,” Juanita said softly.

  “Oh!” Bonnie said and scooped Amelia up into her arms. “Have you come to surprise me for a visit?” She asked the little girl, who smiled and shook her head. She pointed to the ground behind her.

  There stood her little suitcase.

  “Amelia’s aunt had to leave the country again, she felt like her place wasn’t here anymore, even though she tried, for Amelia’s sake,” Juanita explained. “She could see how much Amelia missed her family here, and made a deal with her. If she started talking, she would let her come home, to you. She has already signed over her rights to you and Mitch.”

  Bonnie gasped and the tears in her eyes spilled over.

  “Adoption?” Bonnie whispered.

  Juanita smiled and nodded. “Adoption.”

  And then, the most incredible, miraculous thing in the whole world happened.

  Amelia spoke.

  “I’ve come home for good, Mama,” she said softly to Bonnie.

  She spoke!

  Bonnie stared at the child for a long, shocked moment, then wrapped her up tightly within her embrace. Mother and daughter gripped one another, both overcome with emotion at their reunion.

  For the first time since Jimmy left me, I felt a tiny spark of hope radiate within the darkness of my soul.

  “Amelia,” Bonnie cried into the little girl’s braids, “Amelia.”

  Tears ran down my face as I watched the scene before me.

  Amelia looked to me as she squeezed Bonnie.

  “Roz, you’re a mess. Don’t you know any better?” The little girl asked.

  I laughed and nodded. “Actually, I do, Amelia,” I said softly. “Thanks for reminding me.”

  EPILOGUE

  Across town in a sterile, white room, a young man was taken off life support. His mother, father, and sisters stood around him, cr
ying as the doctor removed the tube from his esophagus. Next, he turned the machines off, and quietly stepped back.

  His mother held the boy’s hand, stroking it and crying as his father held onto the twin girls with strawberry-blonde hair. They sobbed into each other, their grief strong and tangible. They had all said their painful goodbyes earlier. Now, it was going to be final.

  The young, handsome man lay in the hospital bed, pale and dying, as the monitor beeped the final few beats of his heart. The doctor watched the clock on the wall as he waited for the beeps to end and be replaced with a flatline.

  But then, the patient did something completely unexpected. He took a breath on his own. And another. And another.

  The doctor stepped forward, having expected his patient to expire by now, and placed two fingers on the young man’s wrist. Frowning in uncertainty, the doctor looked at his watch and counted.

  Just then, the young man coughed and opened his eyes. He took in long, deep breaths.

  He blinked his eyes once, twice, and coughed again.

  “He’s awake!” The mother cried out in joyful confusion, staring in shock at her son, who had been given no chance of recovery.

  “Will you please wait outside for a moment?” The doctor ushered the happy, unbelieving family outside the room so he could perform a quick examination on the young man who should have been dead five minutes ago.

  “How do you feel?” He asked as he placed a stethoscope upon the patient’s chest.

  “I feel great,” the patient responded. “My throat hurts a little.”

  The doctor poured a small glass of water from the bedside pitcher and handed it to the patient. He waited until the young man had taken a few sips, then began asking him more questions.

  “Do you know where you are?” The doctor asked.

  The young man looked pointedly at the doctor’s white lab coat. “The hospital,” he replied.

  “Do you know why you’re here?” The doctor asked.

  The young man thought for a moment. “No,” he said slowly, “I’m assuming I got hurt?”

  The doctor nodded. “You were electrocuted in your school cafeteria a month ago,” he said. “You had extensive brain damage and organ failure, as a result. Tell me, do you know what year it is?”

  The young man shook his head, “I don’t think I do,” the patient replied in confusion. “I want to say it’s the fifties, but I’m guessing that would be incorrect.”

  “Quite incorrect,” the doctor said, frowning. “Do you know who you are?”

  The young man thought for a few moments, then nodded.

  “Yeah,” he said, “My name’s Jimmy.”

  THE END

  The story continues with Rage in Pain Roz

  Book 2 in The R.I.P. Series

  Coming soon!

  Enjoy this sneak peek…

  The reflection in the mirror was familiar, but it wasn’t me. My family who I silently referred to as The Evans, was nothing more than a group of strangers. My parents hovered around me, demanding I perform spells or magic. Some old woman in a cloak visited me in the hospital, crying over me, saying how amazing it was that I was alive. Once I was restored to my full health, she’d said, we would exact our revenge.

  I had no idea what any of them were talking about.

  My doctor kept reassuring me that some sort of amnesia was to be expected with everything my body had been through. He was positive I was a walking miracle, and should not be worried about the fact that I had no idea who my family was, or who I was. He said, in time, it would all come back to me.

  But he was wrong.

  I knew exactly who I was.

  My name was not Parker Evans, like they insisted.

  I was James Dean Matheson.

  I was born 1958 and died 1976.

  And somehow, I was alive in the body of my enemy.

  Acknowledgements

  This book took a lot of encouragement to make, and my biggest support came from my amazing PA, Amie Moore. I couldn’t have gotten through the difficult parts of this story without your constant encouragement. Thank you so much for being you! Love your face!

  A mighty thank you to Leanne at B2B Book Covers for my GORGEOUS cover! I’m thrilled beyond words with it, and with your professionalism and courtesy. It was a delight to work with you, and I look forward to future projects together!

  Big thanks as well to my #GoddessSisters, whom you might recognize as The Pastels: Cyn, Dev, Jess, Kristi (aka, Belle), and E (aka, Erica)... It’s been a pleasure to have bonded with you ladies over our shared love of the written word. You help keep my words flowing! Love you, lovies!

  To my family, friends, and children: Thanks for your love and wisdom, and for allowing me the room to spread my wings. You each mean everything to me.

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