“Hi sweetheart,” she says. “How are you feeling?”
“I told you on the phone that I feel fine.”
“You got my text reminding you to take your A.S.?” That’s the abbreviation Kate uses for my autoimmune suppressants. I guess she is tired of saying the entire word a hundred times a day.
“I got your message.”
“And you took them, right?” Her voice is a mixture of sadness and hysteria.
“Ten-four.” I give a little salute to lighten the mood. “I just took them.” I stick out my tongue like I do in the hospital. “You see? All gone.”
“Thank you. You know how important those meds are. I don’t want you to have any setbacks.”
I follow her into her bedroom, where she slumps down on her bed and pulls off her shoes. I have never understood how she manages to walk around all day in four-inch heels. I can tell they bother her, because she always sits for a few minutes, rubbing her toes, when she comes home from work.
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You look a little pale.”
“I’m okay.” I know I don’t sound very convincing. A part of me wants to tell her about my dream and the weird things that are happening. As I look into her stress-filled eyes, however, I can’t bear to give her anymore burden.
“I’m beat. I think I’ll just order some take-out.” She stands up and starts to unbutton her blouse.
“That’s fine,” I say. “By the way, Rob stopped by today. He brought us a six-pack of Gatorade.” I’m not sure why I told her. I think I was looking for an excuse to talk about Rob. “He said he was paying us back for all the times he took a bottle from our fridge.”
“That guy is too much.” She laughs. “I’m going to jump in the shower, and then I’ll order something. Why don’t you grab some of the take-out menus and see what you’re in the mood for?” She heads into the bathroom and I stay seated on her bed.
My mother’s bedroom is an oasis of femininity. If my father were still around, I don’t think he’d appreciate the pale pink rug and floral bedspread, not to mention the glinting crystal chandelier that hangs from the center of the ceiling. Her dresser is cluttered with perfume bottles and picture frames. One of them is a photo she and my father had taken one Christmas Eve at Rockefeller Center, almost a year before I was born. I bend down to take a closer look at the photo. My parents look so young. I reach for the frame, but when I set my fingers to the edge it is yanked out of my hands. With a cry, I step back and throw my hands in the air. The frame slides across the dresser and falls to the floor with a crunch. I stand there, stunned, trying to make sense of what happened. After a moment, I become brave enough to inspect the dresser. There are scratches in the wood where the frame dragged. The frame, despite being thrown onto my mom’s plush carpet, lies on the floor, the glass insert cracked in two large pieces. I look around the room, suddenly terrified, but bend down to pick it up anyway. When I stand, something falls from behind the photo and flutters to the floor. It’s a newspaper clipping. I open it and it sags in my hand, threatening to fall apart. The headline reads, The Capshaw Study. I quickly read the article that’s only two paragraphs. It discusses an experiment involving children who have extra sensory perception. Although none of the children are mentioned by name, the article acknowledges the accomplishments of one child in particular, an eight-year-old girl whose abilities surpassed all others in the study. I feel something nudge my shoulder. I look around my mother’s bedroom; everything is completely still. I am alone, yet I feel someone’s presence.
“Cas, is this article about you?” I sigh.
“Yes.” I hear the same willowy voice.
Chapter Ten
“Cas, are you there?” My voice is just loud enough to be heard. “Why did you want me to see that article? Is it Kate? What is my mother hiding? Please, I have to know.” I am begging the empty space, but the silence is deafening.
That night, I lie in bed. My eyes could not be any wider as I peer around the room looking for signs from Cas. I decided not to say anything to my mother about the article. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. How could I explain the frame flying across the room? She’d think I was losing my mind. I really want to tell Rob, but I’m sure he has other things to worry about now – like Jessica Wilson.
The next morning, I decide to call Jocelyn. I don’t tell her anything about the article – I just ask if she’s available to meet. I tell her to come by my house in the afternoon when I know my mother will be at work.
As I wait for her arrival, my nerves kick into overdrive. I take a few deep breaths and practice the techniques Jocelyn taught me. At 1:30 on the nose, Jocelyn rings my doorbell. I open the door and see her wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat and a colorful, floral dress.
“Elle, honey, is everything okay? You sounded a little upset over the phone.” She throws her arms around me and gives a hug that could crack a rib. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t hug you so hard. Are you still very sore?” She takes off her hat and runs her fingers through her hair.
“That’s okay. After all I’ve been through, a hug isn’t going to kill me.” I walk to the dining area and pull out a chair for Jocelyn.
“Thank you. So, tell me, what’s going on?”
I sit in the chair across from her. Jocelyn places her hands on the table. Her assorted bangle bracelets make a loud clamor.
“I’m just a little flustered.” I sigh. “Would you like something to drink?”
“I’ll just take some water, please.”She adjusts herself in the chair. I pull out a pitcher of water from the refrigerator and fill two glasses. “Thank you,” Jocelyn says taking the glass. “So what’s going on?” Her voice sounds a little shaky.
“Well, I know you asked that I tell you if anything odd should happen.”
“That’s right,” Jocelyn says, looking slightly anxious.
“Well, something did happen. Yesterday.” I take a deep breath and puff out my cheeks. “I guess it’s easier if I just show you.”
“Of course.” Jocelyn gives me an inquisitive glare.
“I’ll be right back.” I quickly walk to my mother’s room, where I retrieve the photo of my parents. If I didn’t already know the frame had been cracked, I probably wouldn’t have noticed. My mother probably hasn’t noticed either – it’s been so many years since my father died, that I doubt she looks at it much. After a few seconds, I emerge with the frame in hand.
“What have you got there?” Jocelyn asks.
“It’s a photo of my parents.” I clench the frame to my chest. “My mother keeps it on the dresser in her room.”
“Okay.”
“Yesterday I was in my mom’s room and I bent down to have a look at the picture and the frame – it moved. It just flew off the dresser.”
“Really?” Jocelyn seems intrigued. She holds out her hands to see the frame, and I give it to her.
“It was like someone or something pushed it really hard,” I continue. “It hit the floor and shattered.” I sit down across from Jocelyn. She doesn’t take her eyes off the photo.
“When was it taken?” she asks.
“I don’t know, exactly. I think before I was born.” It doesn’t seem to surprise her at all that an inanimate object flew across my mother’s bedroom.
“I was thinking of telling Scott,” I say warily, “but I’m afraid he won’t believe me. He’ll probably end up prescribing some antipsychotic meds.”
“Well,” Jocelyn traces her finger over the photo, “perhaps an anxiety medication might be helpful.”
I can’t believe my ears. “What? Jocelyn, I thought you of all people would trust what I was saying. I’m not crazy! I know what I saw… and I know what happened yesterday!” I immediately feel a lump grow inside my throat.
“Elle, I’m not saying I don’t believe you. I’m just worried about you. I mean, you’ve been through a lot, and now all this. I don’t want you to be too stressed out.” She places the photo back on the table and a strange feeling washes over me. My
body becomes tense. I run my hand along the back of my neck and wipe away droplets of sweat. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself, but the air feels thick. Suddenly, Jocelyn’s voice becomes nothing more than a vague murmur.
“Elle, are you feeling okay?” She reaches across the table and takes my hands in hers.
“I just got a little dizzy,” I whisper.
“Have you eaten?” Jocelyn asks warmly. “I’d be happy to make us some lunch. I’m sure I can find something to whip up, or we can order in.”
“No, I’ll be all right,” I say, suddenly feeling a bit better. I wonder if Cas is with me now. I decide not to mention anything more to Jocelyn, who is clinging to my hands.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m going to see if I can read your energy.” Jocelyn closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. I look down at the photo of my father. When I gaze back up, Jocelyn is already staring back at me. I pull my hands away and put the glass of water to my lips and take a small sip.
“You must miss him,” she says, as if trying to read my mind. “It’s hard losing someone you’re close to. I guess that’s why I always wished I was blessed with the ability to speak with those who’ve crossed over – then it’s like they never really left, you know?” I nod my head.
“Wouldn’t it be wonderful to speak to your father again, Elle?” The glass slips from my hands and hits the table with a loud thud. Water pools off the table and onto the floor.
“Are you okay?” Jocelyn grabs a handful of napkins from the center of the table.
“Yes.” I wipe up the spilled water. “I’m just feeling a little tired. I think it’s making me a bit clumsy.”
“I think rest is a very good idea.” Jocelyn stands, taking a handful of wet napkins and tosses them into the trash. “You look a bit piqued. I don’t want to take up anymore of your time. Besides, I have some errands to run.” She places her oversized hat back on her head. “Are we still on for our session next week?” she asks casually.
“Yes.” I’m still feeling a bit flustered. “Thank you for stopping by.” I smile and walk her to the door.
“Take care of yourself, Elle.” I nod and smile, before closing the door. I turn and press my body against the wood, consumed with sadness. Even though it goes against my better judgment, I decide to text Rob.
By 3:30 p.m., he is at my door.
Chapter Eleven
Rob paces my living room floor, re-reading the article to himself.
“I think this article is about her,” I say as Rob studies the clipping.
“Her who?” Rob asks. I arch my brow and nod my head. “You don’t really think this article is about your donor… Cas?” Rob turns a bit pale.
“I do. I think she had paranormal abilities while she was alive and,” I fold my legs and chew off the edge of my last good fingernail, “and I think she still has them now.”
“So what? You think she’s using her clairvoyantness—”
“I don’t think that’s a word.” I smirk.
“You know what I mean.” Rob shakes his head. “Do you think she’s using her…”
“Clairvoyance?” I say coolly. “Clairvoyance, telekinesis, telepathy – you name it, she could do it all.”
“Okay, so maybe she’s using all those things to get a message to you that she’s pissed off about something.”
“You mean like the fact that I have her heart?” I ask.
Rob’s eyes widen. “The thought has crossed my mind,” he whispers.
“Believe me, I thought about that, too, but I don’t think she’s mad. Actually, I get the feeling that she’s sad about something.”
“Maybe she’s sad because she’s dead.”
I let out a long sigh and catch myself smiling over Rob’s one-track mind. “I don’t know. I mean, if she died in a car accident, there’s obviously nothing I can do to change that.” I stand from the couch and begin to pace the floor. “The fact that she wanted me to find that article is proof that she’s trying to tell me something.” I stop moving and face Rob. “She must have wanted me to know that my mother is hiding something from me.” I look at Rob, a terrified glint in my eye.
“You don’t know that your mother was hiding that article from you. For all you know, it could all be a big coincidence and it came with the frame.” Rob’s eyes dart toward me and he looks like he’s trying to read my thoughts.
“Please tell me you don’t honestly believe that,” I beg.
“All I’m trying to say is don’t jump to conclusions.” Rob walks over to where I stand and places his hand on my shoulder. “You know when my mom died, everyone told me that it was an accident, and despite what everyone tried to tell me, I insisted there was some big conspiracy involved. And do you know what ended up happening?” Rob’s eyes become glassy.
“What?” I whisper.
“Nothing! After all my worrying, all my blaming, I finally realized it was just a stupid accident.” His voice cracks. He walks over to the couch, sits down and stares blankly at the wall. “She never meant to die. She just took too much of it, that’s all.” I can tell his sudden outpour of emotion has not only surprised me, but himself as well. I sit down next to him and place my hand on top of his.
“Thank you for sharing that with me,” I say gently. “But I’m still not convinced that my mom is completely innocent in this whole thing. I’m going to need to find out more.”
“I think you should.” Rob swipes his hand down his face and dries his eyes. In much the same way Scott had seemingly worked so hard to turn me off, Rob had managed to succeed in doing the opposite.
“Now,” I pat my lap and take a deep breath, “all I have to do is try and make sense of all of this.”
“Isn’t there any information Kate can offer?” Rob asks.
I shake my head. “She said she only heard my donor was in an accident, and claims that’s all she knows.”
“You’ve been doing okay so far.” Rob looks at me and smiles. “You’re a smart girl, Elle. I’m sure you’ll be able to figure all this out – which reminds me.” He quickly turns the subject, which leads me to believe Kate isn’t the only one who gets creeped out by all this. “Mrs. Smith put together some kind of English Teacher care package for you, complete with poems and sonnets. I think she’s worried you might be bored.” Rob snorts. “She should only know.”
“That was really nice of her – I guess.”
“Don’t worry. You don’t have to read them. I told her that you’ve been getting headaches lately and the doctors advised you to lay off reading for a while.”
“Umm… thank you.” I laugh. “I can’t believe you told her that!”
“Elle, now is the time to take advantage of this kind of thing. Once you come back to school, they’re going to start treating you like everyone else – lousy.”
“Rob, I’m just—” A sudden pain, like a pitchfork piercing my temple, buckles my knees. I sag against the couch.
“Elle! What’s wrong?” Rob sounds frantic. He helps me slide over the armrest and lie on the couch. “Is it your heart?”
“No,” I mutter, “my head. It’s my head.”
“I’ll call the hospital.” Rob pulls his cell phone from his pocket and starts to dial.
“No!” I swat his hand off the screen. “I’m okay. The pain is leaving.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
I think Rob thought I was having a stroke or aneurism or something, but as quickly as the pain came it was gone, just as fast. And I know who caused it. In that brief moment, I saw Cas’s face – her head wrapped in bandages.
“Elle, you should probably see a doctor.” Rob leans closer and touches the side of my head.
“No, I’ll be okay. I think you just totally jinxed me with that headache story.” I laugh, trying to lighten the mood.
“Do you want something for the pain? Are you allowed to take something?” Rob’s face is pale.
“Thank you, but I’ll be ok
ay. I know what it was,” I finally say. “I saw her face,” I whisper.
“You mean you think,” he hesitates for a moment, “Cas had something to do with this?”
I nod. “I just saw her. It was the same image of the girl but this time,” I look at Rob and notice the color has returned to his cheeks, “her head was wrapped in bandages.”
“Can you see her now?” Rob looks over his shoulder. It’s cute to see his macho prowess put to the test.
“Relax. I don’t see her now. Besides, I haven’t seen an actual apparition of her – yet. Her face, it just pops into my head. It’s sort of like I’m dreaming, except I’m awake.”
“How about the pain?” Rob asks.
“No, the pain was definitely real. I think I was feeling the pain she felt after the accident. It was shooting through my head.” I prop my legs under a few pillows and try to make myself more comfortable. I feel a bit shaken and take in several deep breaths.
“Do you want me to get you anything? A bottle of water?”
“I’ll be okay now, I think.”
Rob sits on the oversized chair beside our couch, exhales loudly and swipes his hands down his face. He presses his fingers against his lips a moment before speaking. “I went to a medium once, who told me she could see my mom – but I thought it was all BS, ya know? But she made it like she could actually see her – like walking around the room.”
“It hasn’t happened like that for me. But who knows? At this point, I don’t think anything would shock me.” I force a smile. “I’ve always believed that people go someplace after they die. I just didn’t think you could communicate with anyone living again.” I take a deep breath. “But I was wrong, so wrong. There’s definitely a connection between our world and the world of the deceased. Rob, death is not the end, I know that now.” Rob stares at me intently, hanging on my every word.
“I once watched this guy on some talk show who could see and hear spirits. Grieving families were paying him a ridiculous amount of money to connect with their loved ones who had passed on. Anyway, I remember him saying that some people are just born with the ability to communicate with the dead. He explained that they were some kind of magnet, and spirits were just attracted to them.” Rob’s eyes narrow.
The Divine Heart Page 9
