by Glass, Debra
I sighed, about to give up finding any helpful, coherent information when I discovered a site by a woman who lived in Alabama. Vibrant, smiling and dressed in stylish, tailored clothing in her photo on the header of her site, she looked more like one of my mother’s country club friends than the hippies and New Age types I’d seen. Even her name sounded normal: Carrie McCafferty. Wow. No Madam Zelda or Miss Wilma. And no cornball computerized song set to auto play as the page loaded.
A knowing tingle bristled down my arms as I scrolled down past Carrie’s biography to the information posted on her website.
Her experience with spirits mirrored my own. But one thing stood out above anything else. She believed an earthbound spirit’s energy vibrated at a rate closer to a living person’s than that of a spirit who had made the transition to the Other Side.
I sat back in my desk chair, letting the implications of that fact settle.
Since seeing Jeremiah’s ghost, I’d wondered why I’d never been visited by Kira’s ghost or even my grandmother’s. Carrie’s theory explained it.
Since they’d obviously made the transition into the Light, their energy vibrated at a higher rate of speed, similar to the ability to better see the blades of a ceiling fan on low versus seeing the blades when the fan was set on high.
According to the theory, I couldn’t see Kira because her spirit energy vibrated so much more rapidly than mine, because she’d made the transition to the heavenly plane. I reasoned the same theory explained why I hadn’t been contacted by her either.
Jeremiah, whose energy vibrated at a rate higher than mine, remained visible to me because he was earthbound.
I tensed. If Jeremiah went to the Light, I wouldn’t be aware of him any longer. Stunned silence surrounded me.
Now that his parents were long gone, Jeremiah deserved—and probably wanted—to transition to the Other Side.
Only one thing kept Jeremiah here.
Me.
I swallowed thickly.
Briar’s hostility toward me stemmed not from jealously, but because of my selfishness. The realization sickened me. She’d let up on her attacks because Jeremiah told her he wanted to stay. With me.
My gut whispered that he’d possibly made some sort of bargain with her.
I wished I knew more about her but no one, other than her cronies, seemed to know anything beyond what Briar professed online.
If only I could drive, I could go to the New Age store in Nashville where her group headquartered and do some detective work.
Shivering, I concentrated on the words on the computer screen, scrolling down until I came to a section about smudging. Carrie’s site maintained that sage smudging was akin to spiritual housecleaning and that negative or earthbound energies could attach to the smoke. They would then be released into the Light where their energies would become heightened.
Carrie also stated that she felt the sage held no magical power in itself but rather, it was the intent of the psychic medium alone that cleansed the space or the spirit.
Carrie even included instructions on how to help a spirit make the transition. It seemed simple enough. First, the medium envisioned the White Light of the Creator around both him or herself and the spirit wishing to cross. Carrie suggested requesting the help of loved ones from the Other Side to assist the earthbound spirit. After saying a prayer to release the soul of the earthbound spirit, Carrie maintained that the entity should be able to easily cross and that if the spirit still remained uncertain, sage could be used to clear both the air and the spirit of negative energy.
Carrie wrote that some ghosts felt guilt or fear that trapped them to the earth and that others refused to go for a variety of reasons. Thus after a certain amount of time, the earthbound entities needed the help of a medium and those already on the Other Side to create an open door for them.
In bold letters, Carrie stated that a spirit had to give permission before they could be sent over.
I sighed. At least Briar couldn’t force Jeremiah to go to the Light.
An image suddenly flashed at my side. I gasped. My gaze locked on the ghost of the woman from the hospital. This time, she no longer looked angry. Instead, she seemed sad. Daylight shone through her spirit, giving her an ethereal appearance. Dressed in a sweater and pair of trousers, she didn’t have the old world eeriness Jeremiah possessed but nothing changed the fact that I’d seen this woman’s corpse.
She pointed at my computer screen and nodded and I clearly understood she wanted me to help her cross over.
“Is this what you want?” I asked. “To go to your son?”
She nodded. Again, her mouth moved but no words that I could hear emerged. I shuddered. The sight of her unnerved me so much, I shook.
How could I be so comfortable with Jeremiah’s spirit and yet so frightened by another?
“I’ve never done this before,” I warned.
Impatiently, she shook her index finger at the screen. When she took a menacing step toward me, I sank back in my chair. “All right! I’ll try. Just…please don’t…come any closer.”
She stopped, begging me with her soulful eyes.
Inhaling, I reluctantly closed my eyes and tried to envision White Light surrounding us both.
“Wren!” Jeremiah’s voice snapped me out of my trance.
My eyes opened. I stared. A wide swath of blinding, glittering Light surrounded the woman.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“I’m trying to help her cross over,” I said, realizing Jeremiah still couldn’t see her.
The Light intensified so much that I shielded my eyes.
Jeremiah, stared, amazed. “I see her!”
My ceiling suddenly ceased to be my ceiling. Instead, it was as if heaven had opened up and dropped a host of ghosts and angels in my bedroom. I recognized the man she called Tom and the woman’s son, both of whom appeared happy and peaceful—joyous to see the woman. Others stood by in a variety of time periods of dress. Some wore clothes that obviously hailed from the sixties and seventies. One man sported trousers, suspenders, a bowtie and hat. A shy little blonde girl, who looked to be about Ella’s age, stood by dressed in her Sunday best.
My heart twisted as the woman rushed into their waiting arms. I glanced at Jeremiah, wondering if he saw what I saw.
Instead of watching the heavenly reunion, he peered upward to the apex of where the Light rained down on us.
“Jeremiah!” I heard a male voice call. “Come on! Come with us!”
I swallowed. My stomach flipped. I wanted to grab his hand, to beg him not to leave me but I sat speechless, riveted in my chair. I bit my lip to keep from crying out.
“Jeremiah!” a second male voice rang out.
I didn’t look to see who called to him. Horrified, I stared at Jeremiah, reading the indecision in his face. Torn, I gripped the sides of my chair as his gaze flitted back and forth between me and the Light. Not breathing, I willed him without words to stay with me just a little longer.
Forever.
At the same time, the woman turned to me, smiling her thanks. I silently said a prayer for her release and at once, the Light vanished and Jeremiah and I remained in my bedroom. Alone.
“What was that?” He looked back to where the Light had shone through my ceiling.
“I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “Heaven?”
“You…you helped that woman find her family.”
I nodded, trembling. And then, despite everything to the contrary screaming inside me, I asked, “Jeremiah, are…are you asking me to do it for you?”
Jeremiah stared, stricken. Tears welled in his eyes.
The blood throbbing in my veins turned to ice. Uncertain, I fought the desire to launch myself into his arms and plead with him to stay with me.
He’d been here so long…
He’d chosen a life in between heaven and hell to keep from being a burden to his parents. But now, they were gone. His ties to this place, this realm, were gone.
Sickness welled and I gulped.
How could I ask him to stay on my account?
I watched anxiously as he tore his gaze from mine and glanced back to where the Light had descended through my ceiling.
When he finally spoke, his voice sounded strange, strangled. “Those were…my…brothers.”
Obviously stunned, he sank to the floor and sat cross-legged just inches from the bloodstain by the window.
I cringed at the thought of going anywhere near that spot but somehow, I summoned the courage to join him. When I reached to put my arm around his shoulders, my hand passed through him. Alarmed, I sucked in a breath. He seemed too shaken to notice and I didn’t have the heart to express my anxiety at not being able to touch him.
A dark thought, however, loomed in the back of my head. If Jeremiah went to the Light, I would never be able touch him again.
Or feel his arms around me…
Or know his kiss…
Withdrawing my hand, I cocked my head and gazed into his eyes.
He lifted his head and swatted the single tear that escaped his eye. “Do you love me?”
Shocked at his abrupt question, I stared, finally forcing myself to respond. “More than anything or anyone I have ever known.” His question could have many meanings. What had I just admitted? My heart twisted.
“Do you think you could do…that…again?” he asked.
“I suppose.” Terror welled and I knew if I gave in to the tears burning my eyes, I’d never be able to stop crying.
His gaze delved into mine. “You don’t want me to go, do you?”
Unable to speak, I shook my head.
He reached toward me and energy tingled on my cheek, taking shape, solidifying, until his palm cupped my face. I turned into his hand and pressed a kiss to it. I couldn’t give this up. Not now.
“I don’t want to leave you,” he whispered so softly I wasn’t sure if I had heard him correctly.
Daring hope coursed through me and my eyes connected with his. “But…your brothers…”
No! What was I saying?
A little smile tugged at the corners of his full lips. “Wren, I’ve waited two lifetimes to be with them. I can wait one more—but only if you’re certain that it’s what you want.”
This time, I flung my arms around him, throwing myself into his embrace with such force we tumbled together to the floor.
Joy flowed like effervescent bubbles through my veins, eradicating any worry as Jeremiah twisted our bodies so that he lay half on top of me. He cradled my head in his hand, holding me so our foreheads touched. My heart soared as his lashes fluttered shut and his luscious mouth fused with mine.
I clung, kissing him and letting him kiss me. His knees parted mine and he moved over me, making me painfully aware of every inch of his long, lean ghostly body. I battled the urge to arch against him but I didn’t want him to stop.
Every night, he’d slept beside me and I had dreamed of this very moment—of more from him.
Always more.
I was fully committed to him and now, I knew he was committed to me. Bliss and love and dark desire vied for prominence in my body as his kiss deepened. No longer aware of the hard floor beneath my back or the weight of my head in his hand, I only felt him. His energy.
A moan of protest escaped my lips when he dragged his mouth from mine, withdrawing just far enough to look into my eyes. I blinked, drunk with passion and when I was able to focus, I noticed a mischievous glint in his dove gray eyes. A lopsided grin toyed with his lips.
“What?” I asked breathlessly.
His gaze cut to the side and when my own followed, my heart skipped a beat. We were floating several feet off the floor. Gasping, I entwined my arms and legs around him to keep from dropping, but intuitively I realized he’d never let me go.
One of his hands skimmed easily down my back as his smile broadened, deepening the dimples at the corners of his mouth. “I won’t let you fall.”
I searched his eyes and relaxed into the sensation of weightlessness. “How are you doing that?”
“Magic,” he drawled and then his lips sought mine once more.
He kissed me tenderly and expressively, at times deep and then soft. His mouth moved to my ear where he whispered antiquated terms of endearment. He called me his darling and his sweetheart. I was so in love with him, so moved by this supernatural sensation, uncontrollable tears streamed down the sides of my face, disappearing into my hair.
“Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice but a velvet breath as he kissed my tears away.
I opened my eyes and met his gaze. “Because I’m happy.”
“Women are such an enigma,” he said playfully. “You weep with both mirth and sorrow.”
“Mirth?”
“Joy,” he said and pressed a soft kiss to my mouth.
My eyes closed and I reveled in the sensation of his arms, his kisses, of being suspended in mid-air by his will alone. And even though I felt completely safe with Jeremiah, I sensed I teetered on the edge of some too-high precipice, as if one misstep would send me plummeting with no hand-hold to stop my fall.
“I want to be inside you,” he murmured.
Warm, liquid desire pooled in my abdomen. I had wished for this, dreamed of it—but now uncertainty flooded me. “What if…what if I don’t know how.”
His eyes widened with realization. He smiled. “No, darling, not like that.”
Confusion ensued. “What do you mean? I don’t understand.”
My body fell out from under his spell and as we sank to the floor, he drew me upright. Gravity took hold of me once more and I wobbled as I regained my balance.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
Stunned and bewildered, I nodded.
His fingers tangled with mine as he led me toward my bed. My heart pounded. My mouth went bone dry. I couldn’t swallow. Heat rushed into my neck and face.
“Lie down,” he said, gently urging me onto the mattress.
Tingling with anticipation, I climbed on the bed and stretched out. My gaze never wavered from his.
“I will not harm you,” he whispered and, as he came closer, he began to fade. “Close your eyes.”
He disappeared from view completely but his energy intensified, encompassing my entire being, pressing down on me, suffocating me until I writhed, coughing and struggling. What was he doing? Terror mounted. And despite all my better judgment, some little voice in my head told me to be still, to relax…to allow this to happen. I gulped air and suddenly I knew his spirit dwelled inside my body.
Calm washed over me and I sank into the world within, a vast world, as if the Universe itself existed in my very body. I tumbled headlong into it. So many times, I remembered the absolute thrall of that place where I’d gone for that brief instant but I’d never been able to explain in words how I’d felt there.
Until now.
A psychic knowing slipped into my consciousness as Jeremiah melted into me even deeper. Images flashed before me as if I was looking through his eyes…
I ran down a winding woodland path, breathless behind two older boys. One seized a rope and swung out, dropping several feet into a fathomless blue creek pool.
As quickly as one memory played through my thoughts, another replaced it.
A thin, almost gaunt woman appeared before me. Shiny black hair parted down the middle, skimmed her face down to her chin and swept into a chignon in the back. Without modern makeup, she looked severe until a broad smile softened her features. I recognized Jeremiah’s dimples in her cheeks and knew without a doubt she was his mother.
Yet another vision intruded. A man who looked to be an older version of Jeremiah. His father?
But the image of a grizzled old black woman brought forth the most turbulent emotions inside me. As broad as she was tall, her face gleamed the color of dark chocolate. Madie. I even knew her name. Her voluminous arms opened and my hands—the grubby hands of a child—stretched toward her. Her mon
strous embrace enclosed me and I breathed in the dream-like familiar scent of bacon grease and sweat and I realized I loved this woman and that smell above anything else in the world.
A tear seeped out of the corner of my eye and trickled down the side of my face. Not wanting to break the spell, I didn’t move to brush it away.
Madie faded and books loomed before me. An office. Horses and carriages. I recognized the Maury County Court House only, in my vision, the streets were not paved. Instead, they were muddy with red clay. Women moved about in bell-shaped skirts casting furtive glances in my direction. Men clad in dark clothing, long suit coats, vests, pocket watches, hats and mud-spattered boots, nodded curtly as I passed through them.
My heart tightened as another image boiled to the surface. Two men clothed in gray uniforms rode away down my driveway on horseback. Jeremiah’s brothers.
I perceived his urge to go with them. I grasped at his need for honor and glory, a deep need to serve alongside them. The longing was so pronounced, so intense, it made me ache inside.
His memories flew by now. Images flashed so fast I could only grasp at them. Letters. Tears. Anger. Cold. Bitter cold. Mud. Driving rain. Hunger. Lice. Fear—gripping fear.
Deafening cannon and gunfire. The bitter smell of gunpowder. The metallic tang of blood.
My pulse accelerated at the sight of men in blue uniforms rushing toward me through the smoke and haze. I clutched something. A rifle. Men beside me fell and writhed in agony. A man not much older than I thrust a sword into the air and although I couldn’t hear his voice over the deafening cacophony of screaming men and horses and the boom of the cannons, I knew he’d given the order to charge.
A sense of intense, bitter anger roiled inside me, driving me forward. Always forward. I roared until my throat burned. I gouged my bayonet into one of the faceless, blue uniformed men, holding his thrashing body down with my boot as I dislodged the bayonet and then, bloodthirsty and battle-crazed, I searched for another to slaughter. Revenge drove me. Instead of assuaging my anger, killing the man only whetted my desire to spill enemy blood.
I cracked one man in the face with the butt of my rifle and as he tumbled to his knees, I rushed onward. A terrible scream flooded my ears, drowning out the other noises around me and I realized it was my own voice—or rather Jeremiah’s voice.
