Until I Die Again [On The Way To Heaven] (Soul Change Novel)

by Tina Wainscott

  Chris found herself laughing, feeling jealous and wistful all at the same time. It was the kind of wedding she’d always wanted. She tried to picture her old self and Alan having such a wedding, but the image refused to form. Instead, she saw herself and Jamie. This Jamie on the tape seemed a different man than the one she had just met. His blue eyes sparkled with love and laughter, as did Hallie’s. Something had gone terribly wrong with their marriage, despite the promising start.

  Chris wiped her eyes when the video ended with a beautiful sunset shot over the pool, silhouetting the newlyweds in an embrace. Leaning over to the player, she put in the next disk, hoping it would give her more clues to Hallie’s personality, and why their marriage had fallen apart.

  That tape was a mixture of different events. In one section, Jamie ushered a blindfolded Hallie along a stone pathway that led around a lovely one-story brick house. When he removed the silk handkerchief, her bright blue eyes widened at the sight of a red Porsche in the driveway, a huge blue bow on top. With a squeal, she hugged Jamie, then leaped into the car.

  The date at the bottom of the screen moved closer to present, and slowly Chris could see a change in Hallie. A year previous, there was an extravagant party on what looked like Theresa’s lawn. Jamie walked in the garden gate with Hallie on his arm, but minutes later she was off visiting with friends, mostly males. That brilliant blue in his eyes in the earlier sections was a distant memory by then. Chris watched carefully, only getting glimpses now and then of Jamie or Hallie in the background. Never together.

  There were a couple of larger parties on the tape, and Chris watched Hallie flirt and get drunk. She watched Jamie’s eyes grow dimmer, and his face grow older. It was almost like seeing two entirely different couples. She felt sad for them, for the death of their marriage. And she felt sad for herself. She had always held the strong belief that her first marriage would be her only. She would be a divorced woman before she’d ever really fallen in love and married.

  Jamie leaned against the doorframe just outside the living room, watching Hallie sitting in a pool of light cast by the television. He noticed that she wore the blue peignoir he had given her a year ago. The one she had never worn before.

  She had watched their wedding tape and had even cried. He’d seen her wipe her eyes and sniffle. Then she’d watched the second tape, her shoulders slumping as the scenes grew more dismal. At least it looked that way; maybe he was projecting his own feelings onto her actions. Would the videos spark a memory or two in her mind? Would they swiftly return her to her former self?

  The sooner the better. Her staying there was a big mistake, and now she didn’t want to leave. She hadn’t taken the hint, in any case. What had possessed him to insist on her staying with him? He should have turned her over to Mick when he had the chance. But she was here, and he was watching her like some voyeur.

  He had never seen her sit on the floor. In fact, she used to comment that people who sat on floors must see themselves as dogs. Yet, there she was, like a dog on the floor. He turned to go, but found himself drawn back again. There was something different about her since her stroke. She looked the same, but something in the way she moved had changed. Her voice was different, too, as well as the way she said things.

  He realized there was something different about her looks, although he thought it might be his imagination. Now that he had watched the videos, he knew what it was: her eyes. They were a deeper blue now, as if she had borrowed some blue from the clouds on her halted trip to the pearly gates.

  The fact that she was wearing her wedding ring had not slipped his notice either. During dinner, the diamonds had glittered every time she moved. He wanted to ask her why she still wore it, but for some reason he didn’t want to hear her answer.

  Hallie stopped the video and started to get to her feet. He scooted out of the doorway and back down the hall to his room. He didn’t want her catching him there. He felt foolish enough. In a couple of weeks, he would return home, and she would run off to France with Mick. His life would be free of pain and disappointment. Free because he would never again let himself love any woman the way he’d loved Hallie. What a fool he’d been. But he had learned. Yes, he had learned well.

  It was nearly eleven o’clock before Chris woke the next morning. The late summer sky was blue and bright, and she sat up and stretched, adding a yawn in for good measure. Then she remembered once again where she was. Mornings were hardest. She awoke thinking her death and new life were all just a bizarre dream, only to be jolted by reality.

  The only good thing about her new life, she mused as she looked in the bathroom mirror, was that her hair looked a lot better in the mornings. No more brown afro that had to be tamed into a thousand ringlets.

  The only pair of shorts she could find in her suitcases that sufficiently covered her buttocks were so tight she could barely squeeze into them and still breathe. An off-the-shoulder peasant top covered the most skin. Even without any makeup, the woman in the mirror was a knockout. Okay, another plus for the new life.

  Jamie’s door was open, and she could see no sign of movement within. With just the slightest trepidation, she ventured down the winding staircase in hopes of running into him before she encountered his mother. The house was quiet, like a museum.

  She walked behind the stairs and into the great room. The smell of lemon oil drifted through the air, reminding her of days when she and her sisters would pick slips of paper out of a jar to see what job would be theirs that weekend. Chris hated polishing duty, because afterwards she smelled like oily lemons all day.

  A woman dressed in drab brown looked up, startled by Chris’s entrance.

  “Good morning, Mrs. DiBarto,” the young woman said quietly.

  Chris felt strange being addressed so reverently by someone who was probably in her own social class.

  “Hi, what’s your name?”

  “Elena.”

  “Well, good morning, Elena. Have you seen Jamie?”

  “He’s out back.” The woman returned to her task of polishing the dark wood.

  “Nice work.”

  The woman looked surprised as she stopped mid-wipe and stared up at her. “Thank you.”

  When Chris walked out back, she found herself on a terrace that spiraled down to the deck below. The sound of splashing water drew her attention to Jamie, furiously swimming laps in a huge rectangular pool. Sunshine glinted off the waves and spun his wet, blond hair into gold. She watched him and wondered if he’d get mad when he saw her there. She didn’t care. If the tension between them was a string, she could add it to a guitar. Yet she couldn’t take her eyes off him, his lithe, tan body gliding through the water, the way his long, muscular legs pushed him from the wall and back into stride.

  Something else, perhaps, to add to the list of good things in her new life? She shook her head. Definitely not. In her twenty-three years of life as Chris, she didn’t have a lot of experience with men, but she knew a defensive barrier when she saw one. She saw his every time he looked at her. Not that she could blame him. His wife had mistreated him, taken him for granted. Worse yet, he had once loved her so very much.

  Chris couldn’t even dare to hope her someday husband would look at her the way Jamie had looked at his bride. Maybe someone would be able to penetrate the insurmountable fortress he’d built around his heart; his wife could not be that person.

  Something strange clutched her insides for a moment, and her fingers tightened on the railing. When she had thought about the fortress around his heart… there it was again, that odd, squeezing feeling. She dropped her head and closed her eyes, a bright light filling her eyelids.

  “Hallie! Are you all right?”

  Jamie’s voice pulled her from whatever spell had gripped her, and she snapped her head up. The pool was empty. A hand touched her, and she whirled around to find him at her side, concern filling eyes that matched the sky.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m fine. Just a little…�
�� She tried to find a word to describe what she’d been feeling. “Strange,” was all she could come up with.

  “Here, sit down.”

  His touch made her arm tingle as he led her to a wooden chaise lounge. She couldn’t keep the tiny grin from showing at the fact that he was creating a puddle around his feet. She glanced down to hide her eyes from him until she could pull herself together. The blond hairs on his legs were plastered against his skin. Part of what made her smile was his gallant effort at coming to her aid, racing up the stairs to the rescue.

  “What’s so funny?” The concern in his eyes was transforming to something close to a smile.

  “You’re dripping wet, and your hair’s sticking out.” A giggle escaped her lips, but it was the tickling feeling in her stomach as he leaned close that made her feel giddy.

  “You’re something else, and I truly mean that.” He shook his head, a lopsided grin on his face. “One minute I think you’re fainting and the next, you’re grinning. At me.”

  He was crouched down beside her, and for a moment, they just stared at each other. To her surprise, she realized her heart was hammering away inside her. How crazy, she thought. They looked at each other for the longest time, their smiles fading as the moment became serious. His eyes searched hers for a moment, and her gaze dropped to his mouth as she thought about leaning forward and touching her lips to his.

  Jamie squeezed his eyes shut and stood up, running his long fingers through his wet hair to smooth it back. He looked intently out over the property, then back at her from a safe distance.

  “Have you had any of those awful headaches since the stroke?”

  Chris shook her head, aware of her blonde hair swinging in the corners of her eyes. “No, I’ve been fine. I feel like my old self again.”

  The hardening in his expression was barely noticeable, yet she had seen it just the same. She had studied his face as much as Hallie’s last night. She knew every inch, every line and feature.

  He walked over to the railing and leaned against it, putting more distance between them. His voice took on that flat tone she had heard before.

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  Her words slipped out before she could hold them back. “Would you have been happier if I’d become an invalid? Maybe you would have preferred that I die to pay for my sins?”

  Fire lit his eyes as they met hers, and he stood up straight to face her. “Yeah, you’re definitely sounding like your old self again. I don’t love you anymore, but I don’t want you dead or an invalid. The faster you return to full health, the better. Then my husbandly duty is over, and you can go your own way.”

  The strain of the last few days culminated in a blast of her temper. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were doing this out of the kindness of your heart. But I can see you don’t have one.” Instantly, the strange feeling returned, and with it regret.

  He flinched at her words but bit back, “Sweetheart, you can give yourself credit for that.” He turned and strode down the stairs, diving into the poosloops a bullet.

  Chris felt like dropping over the balcony. In five minutes, she had gone from confusion, amusement, elation, anger, and finally regret. She couldn’t watch his angry strokes anymore or think about the expression on his face when he’d raced up the stairs to help her. With her face turned away from the pool, she flew down the stairs and out toward the grounds beyond. Time alone was what she needed. Desperately.

  She could see the faraway wall that surrounded the property. That’s where she wanted to be, far away. Maybe she’d climb up and sit on top of that wall. She kept walking, her arms swinging wildly with each step. After several minutes, her steam ran out and she stopped and looked around. Orange trees dotted the lawn, their tiny white blossoms wavering in the breeze. She inhaled their fragrance, remembering a tiny bottle of orange blossom perfume she’d bought on a family vacation to Florida many years ago. It had come in a half shell with a silk blossom, and she’d worn the perfume all year to remember sunny days and white powder beaches.

  Just when solitude soaked up her anger and frustration with Jamie, two arms wrapped around her and pulled her into an embrace.

  She started to scream and had to pull back the sound at the sight of Mick from the corner of her eye.

  “Why haven’t you called me?” He nuzzled her shoulder and mumbled, “You know how I get when you don’t call.”

  She pulled away from him, leaving him staring at her in starry wonderment.

  “Hallie, for God’s sake, don’t push me away, not after what you did to me at the hospital.”

  The spark of wildness in his eyes gave her the willies. She looked toward the house, gauging screaming distance. Too far away.

  Stay calm, in control. “I didn’t do anything to you at the hospital.”

  He gave the sky an agonized look, and his voice went a pitch higher. “Didn’t do anything?” And louder. “Didn’t do anything. You chose him over me.” Then he looked back at her. “You chose to stay with that bastard rather than let me take care of you.”

  He moved toward her, and she backed up until prickly branches jabbed her. “Mick, he’s my husband. It wouldn’t look right if I…”

  He laughed bitterly. “When have you cared how anything looked? All I wanted to do was take care of you, darling, just like I’ve always wanted to do.” He touched her cheek, and she tried to keep from shrinking away from him. “I was so happy you were alive, pulled from the dredges of death, and then you crushed me. Like a bug.” In demonstration, he placed two fingers on either side of a leaf and squashed the little black beetle that was crawling on it. She flinched at the crunching sound.

  “I—I’m sorry.”

  He smiled in a patronizing way. “Then give me a hug. I’ve missed you.”

  She moved slowly toward him, and he nearly fractured her with his powerful arms.

  “You feel so good.” He leaned his head away to look at her while still encasing her in his arms. Then he reached up and started fiddling with her hair. “You are so beautiful. Being with you makes me feel like a giant. No one thought I could make someone like you my wife, but I proved them wrong. They thought I was a loser, but you’re going to be my wife. And we’re going to be rich!”

  He squeezed her hard again, and she gasped for breath. She felt like poor Bugs Bunny in the grip of the big dog with the dopey voice who wants his own bunny rabbit. “I’m gonna love her, and squeeze her and…”

  “Hallie, why aren’t you talking to me?” he asked suddenly, holding her away.

  “Because I can’t breathe!” She shook herself loose.

  He looked at her, cocking his head to an angle. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know I would never hurt you on purpose.” Then his smile returned. “Is your memory returning?”

  She grabbed at the excuse. “No. That’s why I’m staying here until it returns enough for me to move on with my life.”

  “You don’t have to remember how much you love me. Come with me, and you’ll feel it all over again.”

  Panic pressed in around her. “I can’t.”

  Once again, his hands gripped her shoulders. All the gooeyness hardened, and his gaze drilled into hers. “You remember where you put the Manderlay, don’t you? You wouldn’t forget anything as important as that.”

  Her head spun at how fast his moods changed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The Manderlay, the alexandrite! Dammit, why wouldn’t you tell me where you hid it? You always played games like that, so secretive and coy.” His eyes narrowed. “Maybe you weren’t playing at all. Maybe you faked this whole stroke thing to blow me off and keep the Manderlay to yourself. Tell me you wouldn’t do that.” His fingers were digging into her flesh.

  “Ask the doctor to see my X-rays if you don’t believe me.”

  His face relaxed a bit, but his voice sounded hard. “I’ve already seen them. Hallie, come with me now. There is nothing here for you. You know how much I love you—”


  “I’m not Hallie!” she screamed, pushing away his arms. Then she stopped, realizing what she’d just said. He stared at her, his dark brown eyes shining like onyx.

  Then he smiled and moved toward her again. “I love our games, but I’m not in the mood for baron/baroness or whatever persona you’re playing now.”

  She bit her lip, trying to keep another outburst at bay. “Give me time to remember everything. I’ll remember where the Manderlay is and I’ll tell you.”

  Again his mood swung full tilt, and he grinned and hugged her tightly again. “When we’re living in France, I’ll make mad love to you every day at precisely noon.”

  She pulled away, trying to keep the panic from her voice. “I have to go now. They’re expecting me back.”

  His expression sobered. “I’ll be watching you. And waiting. You’re mine. Whatever Jamie DiBarto has in mind by playing devoted husband, remember what I did to that other guy who tried to steal you away from me.”

  “What did you do to him?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “He just got out of the hospital a week ago. Why don’t you ask him?”

  She ran then, as fast as she could toward the house that now looked like a safe haven rather than a cold fortress. In her mind, Mick’s hands reached out and pulled her back, but she didn’t dare turn around to see if he pursued.

  CHAPTER 4

  Jamie stood near the back door with his arms crossed over his chest. He knew the smug grin on his face belied the frostiness in his blue eyes. Hallie’s gaze flickered toward him, then back at the door she headed toward. Was she going to walk right by him without even a hint of guilt on her features? She looked flushed and winded.

  His light tone of voice came out forced despite his effort. “I thought we were beyond the point sneaking around to see him. He could have picked you up at the end of the drive in broad daylight. Or maybe sneaking around was part of the allure.”