“Well, I’m definitely not the same person I was before my surgery. Even though…” I hesitate, wondering how much I should divulge. What if he and Jessica are together? There are unspoken rules about sharing too much with someone else’s boyfriend. Even though Rob and I have definitely been through more than he and Jessica have, I can’t help but think about the two of them sharing their own moments. The thought makes me sick to my stomach.
“Even though what?” Rob coaxes.
“Well, when I was a kid, I used to feel like I had psychic abilities.” I raise an eyebrow.
“Really? What kind?” Rob asks, wide eyed.
“There were a few times when I knew something before it actually happened.”
“You mean like seeing into the future?” Rob moves a few inches closer.
“One night, I dreamed that my grandmother died in her sleep,” I whisper.
Rob looks at me, unimpressed. “My aunt told me that when you dream someone dies, it actually means someone else is gonna have a baby.” Rob gives a goofy grin. “Kind of ironic, right?”
“It is.” I laugh. “But what made my experience freaky was that my mother told me the very next day that my grandmother had died in her sleep. I remembered my dream and started wondering if it meant something. I asked my mom what Grandma was wearing.”
Rob stretches his neck. “And? What did she say?”
“Well, she took a minute to recover since it was such a weird question, but then she told me Grandma was wearing her mint green nightgown with the white lace trim.” I look at Rob, waiting for some type of acknowledgement. “My grandmother must have had thirty different nightgowns, but I dreamt she was wearing that one.”
“That is Sci-Fi worthy!” Rob smirks.
“I also had a really weird dream the night before my father died,” I continue. “And even though my father’s death was unexpected, I wasn’t surprised when my mother told me the news.”
“Do you remember what you dreamed?” Rob whispers.
“I dreamed of him… he was telling me goodbye.”
Rob’s face blanches. “So maybe you had these abilities before receiving Cas’s heart? And maybe her heart just put you over the edge.”
“I don’t know what to think.” I shake my head. “If the article I found was about Cas, then she really was something special.”
“I think you’re something special, too,” Rob blurts. I look at him, completely taken aback. The blood rushes to my cheeks.
“If you think about all you’ve been through… Honestly, Elle, I don’t think I could handle all this so well.”
“Thank you,” I mumble shyly.
“You know, Elle, there’s something that I’ve been wanting to tell you.” He swallows hard and scoots even closer to me. I look him in the eyes and watch his face suddenly grow pale.
“What’s the matter?”
He points to the sofa with his index finger. “Look! Look at the cushion, next to you.” I turn and see a perfect indent in the center of the sofa.“Is it me, or does that cushion look like someone’s sitting on it?” Rob asks. He leans in closer and waves his hands over the seat.
I inch away from the sofa and swallow the golf ball-sized lump in my throat. “That impression was not there a second ago.” I wrap my arms around my chest. “Is it just me, or did it just get really cold in here?” I ask. Rob nods, never taking his eyes off the couch. “You know, room temperatures have been known to drop when a spirit enters the room,” I stutter.
“All right, Elle, that’s enough.” He walks briskly toward the kitchen and I follow. “Listen, I need to be honest with you.” Rob runs his fingers through his hair and paces my kitchen floor. “I’ve always been a little freaked out about the whole ghost thing. I mean, even after my mom died, I’ve only been to the cemetery twice.”
“Rob, I don’t think there are too many people who like to visit cemeteries.” I try to sound comforting.
“It’s not just that. I mean death – the whole thing really creeps me out. I don’t know how comfortable I’d be, having the heart of someone who died.” Rob looks at me blankly. “Not that you had a choice, I mean—”
“Rob, it’s okay.” I decide to do him a favor and interrupt before he says anything he might regret. “Honestly, I think all the things that have been happening to me have made me less afraid.” Rob takes a seat at the kitchen counter and looks at me with an arched brow.“I mean, Cas is still with me – her spirit, her essence, something. And I don’t know if she’s stuck between worlds or caught in another dimension, but she’s obviously still very much with us, despite the fact that her heart is beating in my chest!”
“Then why do you think your grandmother, your father, or my mother, for that matter, haven’t tried to reach us?” Rob rubs one side of his temple. I could tell this was taking a toll on him.
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because they don’t have anything that important to say – or at least nothing that’s so important it can’t wait.”I look at Rob and shrug my shoulders “You know… until we die.”
“Just to be clear,” Rob sits up straight on the stool, “you have no knowledge on when that will be, right?”
“Relax. But I do think Cas is trying to tell me something. Something that she thinks just can’t wait.”
“I know. I know.” Rob waves his hands in front of him. “Until we die.”
“I’m talking about when I die,” I shake my head and can’t help but smile at Rob’s trepidation on the topic. “I think Cas won’t be able to rest or Rest in Peace, as cliché as it sounds, until she tells me what she wants me to know.”
“You think she’s one of those restless souls?” Rob asks nervously. “I mean, I could believe that, especially after what I just saw out there.” He points toward the living room. Then he steps down from the stool and walks to the end of the wall dividing the living room from the kitchen and peeks around.
“What do you see?” I step around him and walk over to the couch and squat down in front of the cushion that had the impression. I rub my hands over the spot. I turn back and look at Rob who’s standing behind me.
“I don’t see it anymore,” Rob says.
“I know. It’s gone.” I bite my bottom lip. “And have you noticed how much warmer this room is?”
Chapter Twelve
I rest my head back on the pillow, only to find that my ponytail is creating an uncomfortable bump. I pull my hair tie out, slowly, and rub my scalp. Either my hair band was too tight or I’m still feeling the residual effects of that strange headache I had earlier. A loud ping emits from my phone – a reminder to take my last dose of medication for the day. I get up and pull open my dresser drawer, then pop open the case where my pills are neatly sorted. I place the pills on my tongue and take a swig from the bottle of water beside my bed. Then I pull open the top drawer of my dresser, where I keep my pajamas, and pull out a silk nightgown. I’m usually the Tee and flannel type, but Kate bought me some silk nightgowns during my stay at the hospital. She said they would be easier to slip in and out of and the silk would feel good on my skin. As soon as the doctors gave the okay, I was more than happy to give up the hideous hospital gown.
After completing my nightly skincare routine, I climb back into bed. My sheets are a silk blend, so I feel myself sliding in like a puck on a shuffleboard. I have to be careful not to slip back out and onto the floor. Settling back, I rest my eyes and think about the day’s events and what I discovered on the Internet: sleep is the easiest time to reach out to those who have crossed over. I say a prayer and touch my scar. “Cas, tell me what I need to know,” I say before closing my eyes.
After what feels like seconds, I awake, sweaty and shaken. I turn and pull open my nightstand drawer, rummaging until I find my notepad and pen. I frantically write the numbers 4.4.77. Instead of a visit from Cas, I saw myself walking aimlessly through the halls of a school building. Every room I entered had the same four numbers written on the board.
I lie in
bed for a second, my mind swirling. I reach for my cellphone, which is charging on the nightstand beside my bed. I go to Google and type, “April 4 1977.” I don’t know what I expect to find, but I need to do something. I look at the clock – it’s almost a quarter after three. I decide to close my eyes and go back to sleep.
I’m walking through the halls of the school. The front doors are open. I smell the air, which has a welcoming scent – the way it smells just after a hard rain. Outside, I’m immediately drawn to a beautiful tree standing about twenty yards from the door. I walk faster toward it and, as I walk, the wind picks up speed and a gusty breeze sends a shiver down my back. I wrap my arms tightly around my chest to keep myself warm. For the first time, I look down and notice that I’m still wearing the same silk nightgown I put on before bed. I look back at the school, suddenly self-conscious. I want to run inside and hide, but the tree is so compelling.
There are leaves swirling all around. I bend down and pick one up – a maple leaf. Maple trees have always been my favorite. My grandmother had a maple tree planted right outside the front door of her house, a center hall colonial from the late 1800’s. She’d inherited the house from her parents and I know she always hoped my mom would live there after she died. But Kate had never contemplated moving from her contemporary high rise – she put the house on the market shortly after my grandmother died. When I was young, I used to wish I could climb the tree like I’d see other kids doing. But climbing was just one of the many things I wasn’t allowed to do.
I stand under the tree, thinking about my grandmother and the house I used to visit every Sunday. I twirl the leaf between my thumb and index finger as my hair blows in the wind. I’m feeling surprisingly tranquil. I sit under the tree, about to close my eyes and rest, when the wind picks up again, sending hundreds of leaves gliding down around me. I take pleasure in seeing the beautiful display, but am suddenly stunned when the enormous roots upheave beneath me. I try to run, but I can’t move. The tree starts to fall, and I let out a loud scream.
“Elle, what is it?” Kate is standing over my bed, breathing hard. “Are you okay?” she whispers.
“I… I was just having a nightmare, I guess.”
“It must have been really something, the way you screamed.” She puts her hand against my forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine. Really.”
“Are you sure? Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?” A nostalgic look crosses her face. “You know, I really miss that.”
“Really. I’m okay.” I try to adjust myself on the bed.
“Good night, then.” Kate turns to leave my room. “Hey, what’s this?”
She leans over and picks something up from my bedroom rug. It’s a large maple leaf. “Where did this come from?” she asks.
“Can I have it?” I jump from bed and take the leaf from her. “I want to keep it.”
“Okay…” She looks at me apprehensively. “Good night, then.”
I take the leaf by the stem and twirl it between my fingers. It’s just like the one I held in my dream.
***
“I can’t believe you cut school today.”
“This definitely isn’t a lesson I’d learn in a classroom.” Rob continues to pound on the computer keys. Do you think there’s a possibility that this leaf could just be from your shoe?” I raise my brow and give him my best ‘what do you think?’ look.
Rob smirks like he already knows the answer. “Maybe four-four-seven-seven is a phone number. You know, like the last four digits or something.”
“Great, so all we have to do is figure out what the first six numbers are?” I say sarcastically.
“Maybe there is a connection to those numbers and that leaf. It must mean something.”
“Thanks again for your help, but you better not blame me when your aunt has your ass for skipping school.” I walk behind Rob and peek over his shoulder, unintentionally inhaling his cologne. It smells really good on him.
“Don’t worry, I won’t blame you. But I may want to thank you for helping me to crack my first case.”
“What are you talking about?” I peer closer to the screen.
“The numbers and the leaf – I think it’s an address. See?”
I squint my eyes to get a better look at the screen. “4477 Maple Street – it’s an address!”
“It could be. Look, it’s only thirty miles from here. It wouldn’t hurt to check it out.”
“Yes, thank you!” Without thinking, I throw my arms around Rob’s neck. I catch another whiff of his cologne and imagine what it would be like if we were a couple. “Thank you for helping me,” I say softly. The apples of his cheeks turn red.
“What are you going to do now?” Rob turns the chair to face me.
“I’m going to find that house and see if I can get some answers.”
“Do you plan on telling your mother? I mean, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go off alone knocking on the doors of strangers.”
“Who said I would be alone?” I give a coy smile. “You obviously have a knack for this sort of thing.” The slightest smile tugs his lip. “You don’t even have to get out of the car.”
“I’m not going to make you go by yourself. What kind of guy do you think I am?”
“Okay, it’s all set. Now all I have to do is pull directions and we’ll be home in time for dinner.”
Rob shakes his head in frustration. “Let’s go!” He grabs his jacket off the chair and heads for the door.
***
“This can’t be it!” I say as we pull up in front of a dilapidated Victorian. I open the passenger window and stick my head out to get a better view of the numbers painted on the mailbox. “They’re kind of hard to read.”
“They were probably painted on there a hundred years ago.” Rob turns off the ignition. “Now what?”
I turn and give him a confused glare. “I guess I knock on the door.”
“After you.” Rob gets ahead of me and holds open the gate. I take a deep breath and make my way up the cement stairs. I pull open the screen door, which seems to be hanging by a thread.
“Be careful – don’t cut yourself,” Rob warns as I pull back some of the torn screen.
“Someone couldn’t possibly live here?”
“Sure. I used to live in a place not much better than this with my mom.”
I take another deep breath and say a short prayer before knocking. I wait about thirty seconds for someone to answer. When no one does, I knock again. “There’s no one in there,” I say.
“I knew it.” Rob turns the knob on the door and gives it a push.
“What are you doing?” I ask frantically. “This is trespassing,” I whisper.
“Well, it’s up to you.” He pushes the door open with his fingers.
“I can’t go in there.”
Rob just nudges my shoulder. I stick my head through the door and peek inside.
“Go on. Don’t be afraid.”
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“I heard the voice again. She’s telling me to go inside.”
“Elle, we came all the way out here. If you don’t go in, I will.”
“I know.” I step into the house. Then I turn and look at Rob again.
“What is it?” he whispers.
“Thanks,” I say. “You know, for not thinking I’m crazy.”
Rob smiles. Then he pushes me forward with a sweep of his hand. “Hurry up!”
As soon as I step inside, I’m hit with the strong smell of paint – not the kind used to paint walls, but the smell I remember from painting pictures. “Do you smell that?” I say.
“I don’t smell anything but dust.” Rob walks past me and continues to examine the rest of the house.
“You know, this wouldn’t be such a bad place if someone just fixed it up a bit. Look at that architectural detail in the molding.” I point toward the dining room ceiling.
“Elle, now is not
the time for a lesson in real estate.” Rob wipes a cobweb from his shoulder.
“Okay, just give me a few more minutes to look around.” I move deeper into the house. In the kitchen, the yellow laminate floor is starting to peel. The appliances have definitely seen better days. I slide open a few of the drawers, still not sure what I’m looking for. I turn and see something hanging on the refrigerator – a child’s drawing. There are three stick figures descending in size, all of which appear to be girls. The smallest figure has the word ‘me’ written across the chest. I run my hand over the drawing, and a feeling of sadness overwhelms me.
“Any luck in there?” I hear Rob call.
I lift the banana-shaped magnet and slide the picture out from under it. “I’m still looking!” I call back. I fold the paper and put it in my pocket.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” an unfamiliar voice blares. I turn and see an old woman holding an aluminum bat.
Chapter Thirteen
She has to be in her late seventies. Her gray hair is pulled back from her face. The housecoat she wears looks like it has been feasted on by a swarm of moths.
“You can put the bat down. I’m not looking to steal anything,” I say calmly.
“What are you doing here? You know this is my house? You’re on my property. I could call the police and have you arrested.”
“Excuse me?” Rob peeks around the corner and the woman puts the bat to her shoulder again, like she’s preparing to hit a home run.
“Who’s this?”
“This is my friend, Rob.”
Rob waves his hand and smiles. “We’re very sorry for coming into your home without permission,” he says kindly.
“I said I owned this dump, but this place isn’t my home.”
“I’m sorry. I thought you said you lived here.”
“I live in the house next door. It ain’t much better than this place, but at least it’s clean. I used to rent this house out.”
The Divine Heart Page 10
