by Dale Mayer
Stefan stared at him, wondering how his life had become cluttered with so many friends. Caring friends. Dare he say loving friends? “True. But at this point I think I’ll head home before I drop.”
Brandt grinned. “Sounds like a plan for both of us.” He turned around and reached into the front of his truck, pulling out a brown manila envelope. “This is the file I mentioned a moment ago. I can’t connect the cases but…they are the closest I can come to matching up Sam’s information of these visions. You know how iffy that can be.” He shrugged. “Take it. Have a look at it tomorrow.”
“Now you’re talking.” Stefan stood up and felt the parking lot shift and sway. Damn. He needed to get home. “Tomorrow. I’ll take a look then.”
Brandt handed the thick envelope over. “Are you sure you should be driving?”
Stefan shot him a look, snatched up the envelope, and walked to his car.
*
His focus wavered a little more. His thoughts blurred and he had a hard time hanging onto them. Brain fog set in. He shuddered. He was losing it. Again.
It was worse this time. And it shouldn’t be. It should have been better. Easier.
He couldn’t let go of the idea that there really was an end to his life.
His mind screamed no but the evidence was undeniable. He’d done everything he could but the facts were facts. He was struggling to maintain any kind of existence. And his moments of clarity were too important to waste. But afterwards the effort set him way back. Almost to the same distorted, broken-up beginning again. He hated that. It always took so long to pull himself together.
His energy was spread so thin he had to wonder if that in itself wasn’t the problem.
He really wanted his focus in only one place.
To do that he needed to focus on pulling himself together. He almost laughed, as that was the last thing he could do. Still, if he was spread too thin then it would take up too much energy to keep going on all fronts.
It was time to cut out some of those fronts.
Clean out the not-so-much fun debris in this life and keep the stuff he enjoyed, or at least the ones he had more strength to control. It was an amazing journey, but he’d taken so little time to enjoy it.
And that needed to change.
Determined, he set about analyzing the deadwood in his life. It was time to take a chainsaw and free himself.
Chapter 4
Celina walked gratefully into her apartment, turned on the light from habit and locked the door. She leaned against it and closed her eyes. Traveling was always stressful, with arriving home a huge relief. After a moment of rest she walked, a little shakily, into her bedroom. She knew it was going to be a bad night. How could it not be?
Once ready for bed she sat cross-legged in the center of her down comforter. She took a deep breath, then another. Using old esoteric techniques she’d learned from her friend Mimi before she died, she slowly worked some of the tension out of her shoulders and spine. She often played music before bed, but tonight she was too tired and too full of sorrow.
“It was bad, wasn’t it?” Mimi asked, her disembodied voice soft and thin.
Celina smiled, wan and weak, but it was a smile at least. Not that her ghostly friend would care. She’d seen her at her best and at her worst.
“Yes, it was bad,” Celina whispered. She kept her eyes closed, letting in the wispy images of her friend from behind her closed eyelids. She always saw Mimi in a light purple cloud. Mimi had been eighty when she passed and had embraced the theme of purple for the bulk of her last twenty years. She’d also been a yoga instructor, a professional florist, and a lover of men. She’d often make the comparison of men to flowers. They both have a short shelf life, she’d say with a twinkle in her eyes and a wink for punctuation. She’d lived large. Of course she’d never let go in death.
Celina had tried hard to get her friend to cross over into the light. Mimi had laughed and said she’d go when she was damn good and ready. And not a moment earlier. If there were things to experience on this side first, then she was going to experience them. And all that hollering could stop because she wasn’t listening. Most people had known her to be quietly refined. But around Celina she was ribald and bawdy. Maybe death had loosened the reins on her inner soul.
“You look like you’re dead. Hell, even I look better than you.”
Celina stretched her arms above her head and said, “You always looked better than me.”
“True,” Mimi preened, adding, “But I had to work at it. Why the hell did you stay at that hospital? I could have told you there was nothing you could do. In fact, I tried to tell you just that.”
“Yeah, well sitting in a hospital where I can see ghosts – not just you but plenty of others – is not fun so I shut all my senses down. I refused to see anyone.” Not that it did much good when she had to keep peeking out to see if her friends appeared, the process exhausting her even more.
“Besides, you can’t see anyway, can you?”
Celina sighed. She went through this issue with Mimi on a monthly basis. “Not the same way, no. I see ghosts, but not in human form like I used to.” When she’d lost her sight she’d thought she’d lost the ability to see ghosts. For an instant that had been a relief. Then she remembered all the wonderful souls she’d met and helped go home. When she saw her first one after her accident it had brought tears to her eyes. At least she could still see them. Her secret hobby. According to Mimi she was a diehard do-gooder, and those types of women never got the man.
Not that she was looking for a man. Her fiancé had been dead just over a year now and she’d done her damnedest to contact him. He was the one ghost she’d never had a chance to see. Unfair, but that’s the way it was. Maybe she’d tried too hard. Cared too much. If there were rules to these communications she hadn’t figured them out.
She’d also lost her first love – then again, she’d been just a kid so most people would call it a crush. But Caslo had left an indelible impression on her. She’d loved that guy. Idolized him, really. Then he’d been thirteen and she only eleven.
The two of them had been neighbors, inseparable friends for years. Until he’d left, taken to a special program for gifted kids. He’d been gifted, all right. Like nothing she’d ever seen since.
She’d tried to stay in touch but had never heard back from him. Then she did – in one of the most unexpected ways.
In fact, he’d been her first ghost. A heartbreaking first.
She hadn’t wanted to believe it. Had cried and screamed and refused to believe it. So had he. He’d told her over and over again he wasn’t dead. She knew better, and finally she’d convinced him.
The only good thing about your best friend being dead was they could still spend time together. He’d been a mainstay in her life for several years. Every once in a while she’d half-heartedly try to convince him to go to the light and move on. He always gave her that beautiful soft smile and told her he was where he wanted to be and had no plans to leave anytime soon. But the status quo had changed. Had needed to change. For his sake. She missed him even now. In fact, he’d given her the soothing stone she carried with her everywhere.
“So why did you stay?” Mimi repeated. “You knew it would take all your strength to be there – so why?”
“I had to,” Celina admitted softly. “I had to make sure that if any of my friends died and were at the hospital that they would know I was there for them.”
“And did you see any of them?” Mimi asked, curiosity in her voice.
“No,” Celina said. “I didn’t.” And that part bothered her – a lot. What was the point of being able to do this if you couldn’t help the people you cared about when their time came?
“Well, you know it can take time. That’s why I don’t understand. There was no point in being there. I can talk to you anywhere.”
Celina smiled but didn’t answer. That was the thing about ghosts. They thought they knew everything when, in fact, the longer th
ey stood on this side of the veil, the more their focus narrowed to a few of their favorite subjects.
“Sleep, child,” Mimi said comfortably. “I’ll watch over you.”
And that was as good as it was going to get. Celina slipped under her covers, rolled over, and curled up.
She fell asleep instantly, the smell of lavender drifting across her nose.
*
Stefan tossed the file onto the countertop and moved on to his bedroom. Restless and edgy, he stripped down to his boxers, dropped into a deep yoga position, and slipped out of his skin.
In energetic form he stretched and straightened. With every little inch he could feel the tension and muscle aches dropping away. He’d been doing too much for so long without any relief. He knew most men would go and find a partner for a night. He wasn’t most men. He was no longer interested in other women. He needed Celina. Had always needed Celina. Even though he’d kept a watchful eye on her over the years waiting, hoping, she still wasn’t ready for him. He couldn’t help himself from zipping a tiny bit of energy in her direction to make sure she was adjusting to the shifts in her life.
He was surprised but happy to find her sleeping soundly. Several other energy forms were huddled in the room. He didn’t stay. He checked to make sure none of her guests were malevolent then, with a soft brush against her smooth cheek, he left. She slept, and although they weren’t angels she had people who cared watching over her.
She wasn’t ready for him but that didn’t change the fact that the time for them was soon. Just that thought alone was enough to energize him. He’d loved her for so long. While the right time had been years away he’d dated, more out of loneliness than looking for a long-term relationship, and though he’d met some fascinating women over time he hadn’t had a whole heart to give anyone.
The people he really cared about were his close friends, but not one had been his lover. They’d all found lovers of their own, and although joyous for them the long wait for his own love life had created an inner black pit of isolation inside. Loneliness was one thing; to pine away yet another. He couldn’t afford either. Such negative emotions disturbed his focus, tore his energy ragged and stopped him from concentrating. It didn’t help to calm that sense of something off, something brewing, something toxic in his space.
Whatever was wrong wasn’t in his personal space; it was in the spaces he considered his. Like Dr. Maddy’s place – the children’s hospital he did so much volunteer work in – and with his friend Tabitha’s Exotic Landscape reserve. He worked with many people on many projects.
But out there something was stirring.
He rose to his feet, shook his legs, and walked to his studio. His restlessness needed an outlet. He picked up a blank canvas and placed it on the always ready and waiting easel. He turned the lights to low, picked up his palette, brought out a mixture of purples and lavender and began.
*
He didn’t feel so good. He knew he was running out of time, his energy weak. He’d been delighted to have this opportunity to do so much more than he’d thought possible. He still clung to the hope that something, somehow, would allow him to heal long enough to find another way, but knew inside his heart – if he had one any longer – that it was past time that he was done with this. He liked games. In fact, he loved them. But there wasn’t the same satisfaction when he wasn’t using his own hands. This “one step removed” crap just didn’t give him the same sense of accomplishment.
He’d have to pick his next few victims a little more carefully. He didn’t want to run out of them before his time on planet Earth ran out too.
But if he cut out the deadwood maybe the others would be easier to keep alive. Play God, so to speak.
He smiled. Not a bad gig if you could get it.
*
In Bangor, Maine, Bernie Governor hopped into his Dodge truck, waved goodbye to his beautiful loving wife and headed into work. He was a lucky man. He’d survived the accident eight months ago, came through the surgery with flying colors, and had managed to return to his wife of twenty-seven years. They’d been together longer than that, and he could only hope for many more. They’d been awesome years. She’d given him two great sons who’d both married and given him two grandsons. All he needed was a little granddaughter and his life would be complete. Hell, it was complete now, but everyone always wanted that little bit more.
It was human nature.
He didn’t want for much now. He had his job and he knew he was lucky there, but then he’d been driving the same fuel truck for Best Fuels for years. That rig was his baby. He got to travel around and take care of business. He knew most of the customers in this area and they all knew him. It was a good way to live. He had their back and they had his. He knew the younger generation didn’t have a hope of getting anything like what he’d spent the last twenty years with and he was sorry to see that. In his day family and friends meant everything. Now, not so much.
He took the right lane and headed down Main Street. He was looking forward to getting behind the wheel of old Bessie. He’d been driving that same old girl for a lot of years now, and he sure hoped his boss had fixed that gear shift while he’d been recuperating. That shifter was a might bit troublesome before. If they hadn’t taken care of her she was going to be downright cranky to downshift on those hills, and that wasn’t good.
Keeping that in mind he drove carefully. There was nothing like being in a bad accident to make you more road aware. He’d not been at fault when his old pickup had been T-boned by another truck, and he’d sure like to live the rest of his life without a repeat experience. He made the last few turns and pulled into the yard and parked. As he hopped out his phone buzzed.
Mary, his wife. A simple text that warmed his heart. “I love you.” He stopped, smiled, and sent back a response, the same response they’d been making back and forth to each other all those years. “I love you too.”
He walked into the office prepared to start the day.
“Hey Bernie, nice to see your old ass back in here.”
“Glad to have this old ass still intact and here as well.” He grinned. “I sure am ready to see old Bessie. Been sitting at home and watching TV for far too long. What have we got on the slate for today?”
“A couple of nice easy deliveries to start your first day back.”
“Good.” Great, actually. He’d been raring to get back to work, but he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle a full day’s work after being off for so long. He tired faster and he wasn’t sure how he was going to get used to not having his afternoon nap. Still, he was glad to get back into the swing of things. He was way too young to retire. Maybe another ten years and he’d see. He liked being home with Mary just fine, but being an invalid wasn’t the same thing as being retired. Mary had fussed until he’d been ready to lock the door between them every chance he’d gotten. He’d quickly reversed that strategy when he’d been strong enough to lock her in the bedroom with him. To his delight she’d stayed more often than not, too.
The time home had been a wonderful reinvention for his marriage. Even now he could feel a silly smile breaking out on his face.
Life was good. He grabbed the schedule and the keys from Connie, the receptionist, and walked out to old Bessie. Damn, she looked fine. He patted her front grill. “Are you happy to see me, old girl?”
He hopped up, ran through the basic checks, and smiled when he realized the guys had her filled, fueled, and ready to go. “Gonna make it easy on me for the first day back, huh?”
Brady, one of the servicemen on staff, waved at him from the side of the lot. “Drive carefully.”
Bernie honked lightly and headed out on the first run. He had to pass a school and several parks. Worked for him. He headed down the main street and pulled off to the side street to take him down and around the main traffic. He geared down and took the corner, then headed up Hurricane Hillside. Getting up wasn’t so bad, but going down the long, slow corner on the other side – tha
t was the bitch.
He crested and slowed, and then Bessie picked up speed. He geared the truck down, smiling as she responded beautifully. “Good on you, Brady. Glad to see you treated Bessie right. She’s tuned up prime.”
At the bottom of the hill on the side were the high school and the big ball park. It was full today. He frowned, trying to remember who was playing. “Well, it’s a great day for it.”
He downshifted again and smiled.
Nice to see the community doing so well.
He was picking up speed again on the long, slow slide to the bottom when he felt it hit.
Heat. Not a nice warm heat, but a crushing density of power and pain and…burning heat in his chest.
His heart. God, it hurt, like a fire inside the actual organ. Like a hand reaching inside his chest and squeezing. He groaned, feeling heat then ice racing through his body. His ribs locked and he couldn’t breathe. He hit the brakes, desperate to pull the big rig off to the side of the road. He didn’t know what was wrong, but he couldn’t think for the blackness in his mind.
The rig turned, finally following his command. And he realized he’d pulled it in the direction of the massive playing field. The crowded playing field.
No. Bessie, no! His foot slammed on the brake hard as he shifted down. Too hard. His foot was on the brake, his hand on the emergency brake, and neither was working properly. His big body had always been a source of pride and joy – until the accident that had changed so much.
Bessie started to take on a life of her own.
Bernie tried to save Bessie. He tried to save the park full of people. He already knew it was too late to save himself. Death didn’t appear to be done with him.
Well, he refused to take a mess of happy, bright kids with him. He’d take out the power lines and that damn building before he’d go out doing this kind of damage. With a superhuman effort, he yanked at the wheel as the black mist crept into his eyes.
