by Fall, Carly
Would Joseph be there, or would he still remain on Earth?
“I want to be with Joseph!” she called. Her answer was the calm, almost deafening, silence. “Please! I want to be with him! I love him! Please either take me to him, or send me back!”
She considered that he could be a fantasy, but that assessment didn’t feel right, and it never had. Her heart held the truth—Joseph was real. What she had seen—what she had experienced—was real, and they belonged together.
“Please!” she yelled again. “We need to be together! Please!”
Silence.
She sunk to her knees and closed her eyes. “Please,” she whispered. “We belong together. If I can’t be alive any longer, then I want to be with Joseph. Send me to him.”
A long stretch of quiet was her answer. How could she be denied? What had she done to deserve it?
Slowly, a low hum broke the silence, and she opened her eyes. The bright light began to fade. The noise grew louder, and the next thing she knew, she stood in the far corner of the room in the hospital looking at her body and the doctors and nurses trying to bring her back to life.
They rushed around her, all seemingly calm and determined, yet the undercurrent of feelings of the room signaled frustration, their efforts seemingly futile.
She gazed at her body, horrified by what she saw. Her hair was matted with blood, and her legs and arms rested on the gurney in odd angles. Her limbs had to be broken in multiple places. And the blood . . . there was so much of it everywhere. Her body, face, and the sheets she lay upon were colored crimson.
The doctor held the Defibrillator above her bruised, bare chest, her shirt and bra cut up the middle and splayed open at her sides. “Clear!” he yelled, and put the paddles to her skin.
Her body jolted, but nothing happened. The doctor, focused on the heart monitor, cursed and told everyone in the room they were going to do it again.
It was a surreal feeling to look at her broken, dead body.
Maggie gazed around the room but didn’t see Joseph.
Oh, God. What if he’d been a figment of her imagination? What if he wasn’t real? Would she walk the earth forever by herself, or would she have another chance to follow the light?
“Joseph!” she screamed as the doctor pressed the Defibrillator paddles on her chest again. The white line on the machine was flat, straight as a desert horizon, yet the doctor seemed to be determined to revive her.
“Again!” he yelled, and nurses bustled about. One picked up a needle, tapped it, then carefully slid it into Maggie’s vein.
Maggie felt a loss at her life, but the promise of happiness if she were with Joseph overshadowed it. She needed to find him.
“Joseph!” she screamed, waiting for him to appear. She was afraid if she left the room, her tether to this world would be lost. Her body was here, and Joseph had been here before.
There was no answer.
Maybe she was crazy. Maybe her ex-husband’s transgressions had conjured Joseph. She glanced around frantically, looking for him or the white light to get her back to where she had been.
She felt alone and so scared. Maybe she needed to try to get back into her body.
Slowly she approached the gurney as everyone worked around her. She had no idea how to get back into her corporeal form, and based on its condition, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be there. Her face was battered, bruised, and broken, her body fractured. The bridge of her nose twisted, the area around her eyes swollen and purple.
If she could get back into her body, her recovery would be one of pain, and her life might be as well.
She shut her eyes and prayed and wished for Joseph. She didn’t want be on Earth alone. What if her fate was the same as Joseph’s? What if she was to walk alone, seen and heard by no one for the rest of eternity? She had believed in her own sanity and refused the white light. As she looked over her destroyed body, she slid to the floor and put her head in her hands. What had she done? Had she just damned herself to walk the earth alone?
A tear slid down her cheek, and shock registered that spirits could cry. She looked around the room again, searching for Joseph.
He was nowhere to be found.
“No,” she said. “I’m right. Joseph was real. He’s here somewhere. I can feel the connection with him.”
The motion in the room slowed, and the doctor tried one last time to revive her, but he finally gave up.
“I’m calling it,” he said, frustration lacing his voice as he took off his gloves and threw them on the floor. “Damn it.”
The nurses bustled about cleaning up, and after a few moments, they left the room. Dr. Taylor remained by her bed, staring at her body. She walked up and stood next to him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I tried, but I can’t save everyone. I hate losing patients, but especially ones like you.”
Maggie stared at him. What a decent, caring man, but what did he mean, “especially ones like you”?
“You’re too young,” he said as he pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I hope you’re at peace.”
As he turned to leave, Maggie thought she notice a shimmer of tears in his eyes.
Alone now, she stared at her body, and she didn’t know what to do next. Did she leave the hospital? Did she beg to be led back to the light?
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered as a heavy-set nurse with blonde hair and rosy cheeks bustled in.
Maggie watched as she cared for the body, tucking it into a sheet, and cleaning up what was left of the mess they had made trying to save her. As the nurse worked, she hummed. At first, Maggie couldn’t place the tune, but it was familiar. Finally, she recognized it as “Amazing Grace.”
As the nurse busied herself, Maggie looked on. “It’s so nice of you to care so much,” she whispered to the woman.
The nurse bustled about for a minute, then looked directly at Maggie. “Wait here. He’ll be here soon.”
Maggie gasped, and the nurse gave her a wink, then disappeared before her eyes. What was that? The nurse must have been some type of . . . angel? Maggie didn’t know how else to describe her. She reminded herself she was new to the world of the dead, and certainly, things would be surprising.
She stood in the middle of the room—waiting—for Joseph.
The nurse had assured her he’d be here soon.
A few more minutes passed, and two orderlies came in and wheeled her body out. They questioned who had prepared the body, and eventually, when there wasn’t an answer they could agree on, the discussion turned to football, specifically the Arizona Cardinals.
Maggie stared at her toes while her body was moved down the hallway and onto an elevator. She didn’t know where to go or what to do, but she held firm in the room as the nurse had instructed her.
A few minutes later, another gurney was rolled in. Maggie stepped out of the way and backed into the corner. The nurses once again bustled about, another doctor tending to the patient.
From the chatter, Maggie gathered the patient was a drug overdose.
Sighing, she knew she couldn’t wait in this hospital room forever, and she had the distinct feeling time was slipping away. Perhaps if she saw the nurse with the blonde hair again she should request to be taken back to the light. Maybe that was the best thing. However, her heart hurt just thinking about moving on without Joseph.
As she stared down at the floor, a pair of black boots came into her vision. Her body hummed as energy coursed through her veins.
She had been right—he wasn’t a figment of her imagination.
Her gaze slowly traveled up his jean-clad legs, his narrow waist, and his barrel chest. She met his light-blue gaze and he smiled. “Hello, Margaret,” he whispered.
She threw herself at him and he caught her in his strong arms. As she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, she smelled the faint scent of firewood and raw male. It was familiar to her, and she felt as if she had just stepped into her long-lost
home.
He squeezed her tightly, and she sank into the hard planes of his chest. She ran her fingers through the silky strands of his hair.
“I’ve missed you so much, Margaret,” he whispered in her ear. “So much.”
Tears choked her throat. She would miss her friends and her mother, but she belonged in Joseph’s arms.
After a moment, he set her down. She stood before him, a feeling of certainty flowing through her. Joseph was supposed to be with her.
“Where were you?” she asked.
He ran a finger down her cheek and smiled. “When you died, you disappeared. I couldn’t find you. Where did you go?”
“I was in this . . . place. There was a bright light that beckoned me, but I said I wanted to be with you.”
“You saw the light?” Joseph asked, surprise shining on his face.
“I did. I take it you didn’t when you died?”
Joseph shook his head. “No. I never saw the light, but I’ve always believed in it. Tell me. What was it like, Margaret?”
Maggie described the peace and tranquility she felt, as well as the need to go toward the bright light. “But wanting to be with you overrode it all,” she said.
Joseph took her in his arms again, and she rested her head against his chest.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Where to?” she asked, lacing her fingers through his and looking up at him. It felt so good to feel his flesh against hers.
“Let’s go home.”
Chapter 17
They walked out of the hospital, hand in hand. Once outside, the sun shined brightly, but everything else had changed.
People rode horses down the dirt streets. The air smelled of smoke and cooking meat. The women wore long gowns as they bustled around the busy city of Bisbee.
There was a loud horn in the distance, and Maggie noticed a group of miners walking toward the city, their faces dirty, their slow steps indicating exhaustion.
No one paid attention to her and Joseph.
“What’s going on?” she asked. It was as if they’d been transported back in time. She looked down; she was wearing the blue cotton gown she had seen herself in at the house of prostitution.
“It looks like we’ve been taken back to our time,” Joseph said, squeezing her hand.
They walked in silence up the hill to their house. Joseph pushed the door open and they stepped inside. The furnishings were just as she remembered them, from when they shared this home.
Maggie walked through the small living room, running her hand over the soft cloth on the couch, her shoes echoing around the room on the wooden floor. She bent over and smelled the wildflowers on the table. Lavender. Her favorite.
“You used to love the smell of lavender,” Joseph said, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.
Maggie smiled and turned to him. “I still do.”
He bent down and kissed her gently, and Maggie snaked her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
“I want to take you to our bed,” Joseph whispered.
“Please do, Joseph,” Maggie said, heat coursing through her body, anticipation making her heart beat wildly.
Maggie smiled as he took her hand and led her into the bedroom. She’d never been happier than she was right at that moment. This was her idea of heaven.
About the Author
Carly Fall is a wife, a mother and a slave to Nicky the dog.
She loves to laugh, thinks chocolate and wine should be considered their own food group, and wishes Christmas happened twice a year.
She is the author of the award winning and Amazon best selling series, the Six Saviors, as well as contemporary and paranormal romance.
To read about her other books, please go to:
CarlyFall.com
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