Stepping into the Sky: Jump When Ready, Book 3

by David Pandolfe

  “We love music,” Henry said. “Is there a good…record store around here?”

  Rose shrugged. “Not so much around here but there’s one not too far away. I’d love to show you sometime.” She glanced at the floor. “I mean, if you’d like.”

  In that moment, Nikki wanted to hug her. Whoever Rose was—whoever she’d been—Nikki would never entirely know. But it seemed clear that in her dream, which must be a reflection of Rose’s last life, Nikki stood facing a girl who felt unsure of herself. Despite her advantages, Rose appeared to lack the thing that Nikki and those around her experienced every day. True friendship.

  “That sounds nice,” Nikki said. “We’d like that.”

  Rose smiled again, more naturally this time as she started to relax. “So, I was wondering if you’d like to join me and Joseph later today. I thought we might have lunch together and get to know each other a little. I mean, if you’re not too busy getting settled.”

  Nikki and Henry made eye contact, pretending to check if either had any objections.

  “That sounds like a great idea,” Nikki said, although she wondered if Joseph knew. Something told her Rose hadn’t included him in the plan yet.

  “Perfect!” Rose checked her watch. “Does twelve sound about right?”

  “Twelve works for us,” Henry said.

  They saw Rose out and part of Nikki wondered if the house around them might evaporate, leaving them in the wasteland they’d wandered through the night before. But apparently this place really had been provided as a sanctuary of some sort. Still, a shiver ran up her spine as she recalled the continued pounding on the door last night, along with the threatening messages blending with the wind. Something told her whoever that had been hadn’t just given up and gone away. Just the opposite. Nikki felt sure they were keeping watch.

  She and Henry walked back down the hall, both stopping before the mirror. Nikki breathed a sigh of relief, seeing the glass now reflecting their images as they usually appeared. In that moment, though, she couldn’t help wonder if that wasn’t just another type of dream. In a way, wasn’t that also the case? When would they choose to surrender the dream they both lived in?

  Henry remained quiet for a moment and Nikki wondered if he might be thinking the same thing. Finally, he said, “I guess we’re starting to see how some of this works.”

  “Some of it, ” Nikki said.

  So far, only one thing seemed clear. What Rose believed dictated their “reality,” but only when she thought of them. This was her dream and she controlled at least enough of it to suggest that the dream could take on a new form. That it might even shatter. But only if they could get her to see things differently. First, they had to keep gaining Rose’s trust, then they had to puncture the illusion.

  Henry veered off into the massive living room they’d avoided last night. Even now, the room remained dark, its thick curtains left closed. Nikki scanned the gloom and saw lush couches and cushioned chairs, an old console television and a cabinet holding a turntable and speakers—dated items like those she remembered from the house she’d grown up in. The pieces of furniture were spaced at such large distances from each other that Nikki wondered if anyone had ever actually used the room. The coffee table sat so far from either of the sofas that it would be impossible to reach without getting up.

  “Look,” Henry said, pointing to frames lining the walls.

  They seemed meant to hold portraits but the gilded rectangles displayed blank canvases. “That’s really weird,” Nikki said. “Do you supposed they’d have pictures in them if Rose was here?”

  “Yeah, that’s my guess too. Pictures of whoever lived here when she was alive.” Henry crossed the room and reached for one of the curtains. He looked at Nikki and widened his eyes. “Should I dare?”

  Nikki hesitated. Without Rose here, would the window offer only darkness? Would they find faces staring in at them?

  Henry threw the curtain open and jolted back. Nikki gasped, her heart suddenly pounding.

  Henry grinned. “Oh, look. It’s the lawn.”

  “You bastard!” Nikki grabbed a pillow from one of the sofas and whipped it at his head.

  Henry ducked and laughed. He crossed the room and plucked a book from a shelf holding many more.

  Nikki watched as he opened it. “Blank?”

  Henry shook his head. “Actually, no. It’s called Tropic of Capricorn. Weird title.”

  “I remember my parents talking about that book. I think it was pretty scandalous in its day.”

  “Really.” Henry lifted his eyebrows. “I think I better check this out.” He took the book to one of the chairs and plopped down into it. “Let me know when it’s time for lunch.”

  Nikki looked around the room again. “How will we know?”

  Henry gestured to the window. “Well, there’s daylight out there, so I’m guessing we’re on Rose Time. Any clocks around here? I thought I saw one in the kitchen.”

  “We should check.”

  Henry opened the book again and thumbed through the opening pages. “I’ll be right here. Let me know what you find.”

  Nikki rolled her eyes and walked toward the doorway, sure Henry would follow. When she glanced back, he stared at the book so pointedly that she knew he was doing it just for effect. She couldn’t resist the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Have fun with that, River Rat.”

  Henry kept his eyes glued to the page. “Damn, they were reading some seriously R-rated stuff in this house.”

  As it turned out, an old pendulum clock hung on the kitchen wall. It showed the time to be a little before ten but Nikki had no idea why or what that meant. She looked around the kitchen again wondering what had gone missing, before realizing it was the boxes. In a way, it made sense but in another it made none at all. How was it possible that what Rose saw influenced what they did? How could she and Henry trust anything around them if it kept shifting that way? For now, at least, sunlight streamed through the windows. Nikki crossed the room and looked out into the backyard, her gaze drawn at first to light reflecting off a swimming pool. Then she noticed the little girl wandering out by the flower garden.

  Nikki closed her eyes for a moment. It wasn’t possible, that girl being there. That girl, with her long, silky black hair, who even from a distance so strongly resembled the sister she’d once known. Whose hand she’d once held, whose eyes she’d looked into for guidance as she’d come to know what it meant to have a big sister.

  “Lilly.” The name escaped Nikki’s lips in a whisper before she even thought about it, a kneejerk reaction.

  As if hearing her name, the girl turned and stared at the house. Nikki gasped, seeing her again. Lilly. It really was Lilly. Her sister, long gone, but there she was outside the window, now not much past five or six years old again. Nikki thought of the dream she’d had recently, in which she’d seen her sister as a little girl. Her parents had been there too, both of them young again—a dream she hadn’t gone a day without thinking of since. The girl started walking toward the house, her distraction with the garden forgotten. Did she see the pool?

  Nikki stood transfixed, waiting for someone to call out—to run across the yard and stop her before she fell into the water. But Lilly kept getting closer to the pool, her little legs carrying her much more quickly than Nikki could have imagined possible.

  Nikki ran to the door and threw it open. She raced down the steps and across the patio. As she ran toward Lilly, her perspective shifted, the world around her becoming huge. She ran past sunflowers that towered over her head. She raced toward the other girl, now taller than herself. Something had been concerning her but Nikki couldn’t imagine what it was now. What was there to be afraid of? There was just sunlight against her face and the smell of the flowers. She smelled the pool water too and she had a vague feeling that she’d been worried about the water but that didn’t make sense. The pool was pretty, an expanse of turquoise rippling in the light. The entire world held nothing but wonder and
she heard herself giggle. The girl saw her and giggled too. She ran around the pool’s rim, closing the distance between them.

  A moment later, they fell against each other, their arms clasped tight in embrace. Lilly shrieked with laughter and Nikki did too. She looked into her sister’s eyes, seeing herself reflected there, not much more than a toddler, teeth missing in her broad smile, her black hair shoulder-length and adorned with butterfly barrettes.

  Suddenly, she heard a woman’s voice. Smooth and warm, as much a feeling as a sound. “Where do you two think you’re going? Girls? Come to mama, now.”

  And they did. They ran to their mother, still giggling, holding hands.

  Nikki didn’t question how it was possible that her mother could be young again. The reason for the question didn’t exist. She didn’t even know what it meant to be young or old, not really. Some people were big and others small.

  Then she heard a deeper voice. “What do we have here? I thought we’d lost you!”

  Nikki’s feet left the earth as a man picked her up. She stared into kind eyes that crinkled at the corners.

  “Oh, my little one. My Nikki. I thought we’d lost you. Do you like it here? Isn’t it beautiful?”

  Nikki stared into her father’s eyes and nodded. She kept nodding. She liked the way it felt and the way it made her smile keep getting bigger.

  “Then you can stay right here with us. You won’t ever have to leave again. Wouldn’t that be just—”

  “Nikki!”

  She felt a sharp pain in her shoulder as something pulled at her. It hurt, whatever it was and she wanted it to stop.

  “Nikki! Listen to me!”

  Again, she felt a painful tug. Someone spun her around and she stared into eyes she didn’t recognize. Eyes she didn’t want to recognize.

  But the tugging didn’t stop and she started crying. Her family called out to her as they fell away but Nikki wasn’t strong enough to escape whatever had taken hold of her.

  She heard the sound of a door slamming. She heard the voice again.

  “Nikki, wake up. What was out there? What happened?”

  She stood inside the house, in the kitchen. Henry’s eyes peered into hers. Nikki wiped tears from her cheeks, fighting the urge to break free of him, to run back out into the yard where her family waited for her to—

  “You didn’t come back. I came in here to find you,” Henry said. “You scared the hell out of me. What just happened? You were standing in the yard like you had no idea where you were.”

  Nikki wiped more tears away, clearing her eyes. She didn’t want to feel embarrassed but she did. Henry had never seen her cry before. None of them had. But right now it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he held her before she broke free and ran back into that other dream. She wrapped her arms around Henry, closed her eyes and held on tight.

  8

  Lost Angel

  It had taken a long time for Rose to get used to coming here, to accept that her parents lay beneath the earth and would forever remain there. After the accident, when she’d been just a little girl, her grandmother had made her come to the cemetery every Sunday. Rose had never forgotten the first time she’d realized that Ethan and Jennifer Boland’s names would from now on only appear engraved on those two marble slabs she’d first seen on the day of the funeral. In time, though, she’d gotten used to visiting the cemetery and had even started to enjoy it. Rose had come to agree with Olivia. Coming here was the right thing to do. Paying respects was important and she used to imagine that she really was visiting with her parents. Believing that had given her a sense of peace.

  Rose didn’t come as often as she used to and neither did Olivia. At some point, the tradition of weekly visits had faded away. But sometimes she still liked to walk through these silent and tended grounds which, during the day, resembled more a beautiful park than someplace sad. Rose imagined that her parents knew she’d come to visit them today, that they walked alongside her. Just as so often she imagined them looking on as her life progressed, as she readied herself for this big step with Joseph. She pictured them pleased that each day brought her another step closer to a happiness she hadn’t been able to know as a child who’d suffered the greatest loss imaginable.

  Why she’d decided to come here today, though, Rose couldn’t recall. That part bothered her. She knew it had been quite a while but she also couldn’t remember how long. In fact, she didn’t even remember deciding to come here. She’d gone to visit the new couple who’d moved in down the street, then she’d suddenly found herself here. Maybe it was the idea of there being someone new in a place that seemingly never changed that had made her think about the past. Or maybe it was the idea of young couples starting their lives together. After all, her parents weren’t very old when they died. They’d been married less than ten years. Rose just wasn’t sure.

  Either way, she must have driven across town lost in thought, distracted again as she had been so much of the time lately. Still, it seemed only fitting to share her newfound happiness with those who’d brought her such happiness long ago and she felt glad that, at least subconsciously, she’d made the choice to come here. Add to that, right now there was the blue sky overhead and the mild spring breeze caressing her hair. Butterflies floated through the air and birds chirped in nearby trees. Such a perfect day.

  But there were many paths that ran through the cemetery. Why was it that she’d never had to think about it before? She’d always known which way to go. Now, though, she didn’t feel sure. Could it possibly have been that long since she’d last been here? Rose tried to ignore her pulse increasing and the guilt she suddenly felt. She also tried to ignore the panicky feeling which kept forcing her to jerk her head around as she tried to remember the right path to take. Of course, she knew where her mother and father had been laid to rest. She’d visited their graves hundreds of times. She’d never missed a birthday or holiday. She’d always brought flowers. In fact, long ago she used to write stories and poems, she used to draw pictures, and leave them for her parents.

  Left or right? Rose wasn’t sure as she reached another point where the path split under the shadow of a giant oak tree. She tried to dismiss her irritation but wouldn’t it make sense to put up signs of some sort? Nothing tacky, of course, but just some subtle indication of where people might locate their loved ones amongst the trees, hedges, hills and statues? After all, there were so many graves. No, not graves, Rose thought, commemorations. Wasn’t that the word her grandmother had always preferred?

  That bench, Rose thought, the one on her left. She remembered it because of the plaque—it had been donated by the Wells family. But she remembered the bench being new, the plaque shining when now the words inscribed on the brass were barely legible due to green tarnish that had spread across it like a disease.

  But that was definitely the right bench, which meant she should take the path leading left. She chose that direction but other things seemed strange too. Rose remembered the row of birch trees lining the walkway but they’d grown so large. She remembered them being less than ten feet tall, fresh young trees planted not long ago, but now they towered, their branches spread to where they nearly touched neighboring trees in the row, the shade beneath them thrown thick and far.

  Rose saw a row of markers she remembered, grouped at the base of a statue she remembered well. An angel with flowing robes cut from stone, palms lifted and outspread, empty eyes rolled toward the heavens. She’d always liked the statue before but now it disturbed her for some reason. Rose had always imagined the angel to be offering blessings but now she seemed more lost, her weathered figure beseeching a higher power for guidance. Rose thought about turning back but decided it wouldn’t be right, almost as if her parents would know that she’d almost come to visit but then changed her mind.

  Besides, she knew where to find them now—their plots were just around the next bend. Rose came out from behind the birch trees and saw their stones, at the crest of a hill. She’d always li
ked that spot and had imagined it as a happy place for people to rest—their two stones alone enjoying the privilege of that elevated, sunny place offering a view of the surrounding landscape. But the day was no longer sunny. Somehow, in the short time that she’d walked beneath the grove of birch trees, the sky had grown overcast. The air around her even felt chilly now and she hugged herself as she walked the incline toward the place where her parents had been laid to rest.

  As she got closer, Rose knew she must have made a mistake. It didn’t seem possible. She’d felt sure she’d taken the right path but there had always been just the two stones sharing this rise. How could there possibly be four now? Still, the markers were the exact same color as those of her parents—that tasteful, blue-green hue her grandmother had chosen, when most of the others where drab gray or even, in some instances, what her grandmother had described as a “garish” pink.

  Something inside Rose kept urging her to turn back, to leave right now and find Joseph. She’d invited that new couple over and now she was here. A voice called out inside her. Shouldn’t she be making some sort of lunch plans? What if Nikki and Henry showed up and she wasn’t home? Wouldn’t that be the height of rudeness? Was she absolutely certain she hadn’t forgotten any wedding plan details? Surely, she shouldn’t be here.

  Still, Rose marched forward, her gaze fixed on what she knew couldn’t be there. But she came closer and saw their names, Ethan and Jennifer Boland. Her eyes flicked to one of the neighboring stones and she saw her grandmother’s name engraved upon it. Her mind searched for an explanation as her pulse escalated. People often purchased markers of their own and placed them for when their time came. Had Olivia done that without telling her? Then, Rose saw the second date, the one corresponding to date of death. What was going on? Whose name was on the other—