SNOW GLOBE

by Jeanne Skartsiaris

  It was a perfect date. Aja sighed and hugged her pillow close enjoying the memory. She had not seen Mr. Jensen there with the group though. She wished he could have been part of that moment.

  Her phone rang. She got out of bed to answer it. It was just past seven thirty; she didn’t have class until ten.

  “Aja, it’s Janie.”

  “Hey. What a great evening. Thanks for everything.”

  “Aja.” Janie’s voice was serious. “Mr. Jensen passed away last night. In his sleep. I’m sorry.” She began crying. “He’d been doing so well.”

  Aja was hit with a fist punch of sadness. “What? No!” She hadn’t seen it coming the way she had with Mrs. Jensen when she’d known it would happen. “I didn’t think he was ready.” Or maybe she wasn’t ready to let him go.

  After they hung up, Aja sat on her bed, shocked and saddened. She closed her eyes and tried to feel the Jensens’ spirit. She didn’t feel anything. Was she losing her gift? It was the gift she’d hated all her life, but now needed to connect with them. She found a small measure of comfort knowing that Mrs. Jensen had been waiting in his room last night and they were together now.

  She wiped away a tear, heard her mother puttering in the kitchen. Still crying, she went into the kitchen. Her mom looked up, smiled, then saw the tears and took Aja in her arms.

  “Are you okay?” her mom asked, concerned, then held her tighter.

  “Mr. Jensen died.”

  “I’m sorry, honey.”

  “Did you know?” Aja asked.

  “No, not until I held you. I’m sure he’s with his wife.”

  “I didn’t see it. Sometimes I just know.” Aja pulled out of the hug. “He was sad, but I didn’t have a feeling about it.”

  “Maybe he didn’t want to worry you, didn’t want anybody else holding him here.” Aja’s mom said. “Let me get you some tea.”

  Aja grabbed a Kleenex and blew her nose. “Why does it hurt so much? I hardly knew them.”

  “You connected with them.” Her mom placed a steaming cup of tea in front of Aja. “You were meant to be in their life now, to help them transition.”

  Aja thought of Lauren and Katie, how hard it was going to be for them. She decided to skip classes today and go straight to Golden Leaves. “Mom, can you take me there now?” Still without a car, Aja relied on her mom or the bus to get to college and work.

  “Sure.”

  Aja took a few minutes to email her teachers to say she wouldn’t be in class, then stuffed her work clothes in a bag.

  Her mom dropped her off about ten o’clock. In the main lobby, Edna Jones was setting an easel, on it a poster stating that Steven Jensen had passed away and listing the time for a memorial service in the residents’ chapel.

  Aja looked at the document, thinking that it looked too standard, like the names and dates were copied and pasted routinely. It made her sadder.

  “Aja, you’re not scheduled to work until this evening,” Edna said, straightening the poster.

  “I heard about Mr. Jensen.”

  “Sad, I know. He was a good man,” Edna said with as much sincerity as ordering a latte.

  “Is Lauren here?” Aja asked.

  “I think she’s in his apartment if you’d like to go up. But please, Aja, don’t get underfoot.”

  “I just want to help.” Aja started crying again. “Don’t you even care about them?”

  Edna looked at her sternly, then softened. She took Aja’s arm gently. “Come on, let’s sit for a minute. Edna guided Aja to a chair that looked over the garden where she and Walker had dinner last night.

  As they sat, Edna looked out in the garden. “Aja, I know you may think I’m hard-hearted, but this is life. Maybe I’ve built up some immunity to this, since death happens a lot here.” She sighed. “You’ve brought a level of excitement here, a spark of life. Even though I like order and routine, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I appreciate what you’ve done, bringing the youth from the detention center here. Lord knows my ulcer still acts up whenever the two groups get together.” She put a hand on her stomach. “But it certainly has re-energized some of the residents here. I’m glad you connected so well with the Jensens. They had a full, happy life. That’s what we need to remember about them.”

  “I guess he couldn’t live without Mrs. Jensen,” Aja said, wiping a tear with her shirt.

  “Yes, they’re in a better place,” Edna said, a pat, sensible cliché she’d probably said a million times.

  Aja could practically hear Edna’s brain ticking off her to-do list for the vacant apartment, but she appreciated that Edna had taken the time to talk to her.

  In the apartment, Aja found Lauren and Katie crying as they sat on the couch. Aja glanced at the bedroom; the bedsheets were crumpled and cascaded to the floor. There were medical patches and trash from the paramedics littered around the bed. But worse, there was no spiritual feeling from either Mr. or Mrs. Jensen. They were gone.

  Aja hugged Lauren. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you,” Lauren cried. “This is too hard to have lost both of them in such a short time.”

  Katie nodded and wiped her face with a stringy Kleenex. “Tell her about your dream.”

  Lauren sat down again. “I dreamt last night that Mom and Dad were together. I could see them, but couldn’t touch them. If I tried to reach out, it was like I’d touch water, and the image would ripple and blur.” She took a shaky sob. “But they looked beautiful, full of light. I don’t know; it was weird, but real.”

  “They were meant to be together,” Aja whispered.

  Lauren nodded. “Dad’s caregiver found him this morning. He called 911, then called us. Dad died in his sleep.”

  He died in the arms of his Buttercup, Aja thought, remembering the strength of Mrs. Jensen’s spirit in the apartment last night.

  Aja spent the morning with Lauren and her sister. She cleaned up the mess in Mr. Jensen’s room. Later, she called Walker, who was at school, and told him what happened.

  “Oh, man, I’m sorry. How are you doing?”

  “Better now that I’ve thought about it. I didn’t know him before he lost his wife, but since we’ve become friends, I could tell there was a part of him that was missing. So maybe this is the way it should be.” She looked around the empty apartment. “I only hope I find love like they did.” She blushed, remembering their date last night, and Walker’s blazing kiss.

  “I think, maybe, I have,” he said softly.

  Chapter 55

  Two months later, Aja got in her car, a 1997 silver Honda Accord, courtesy of the Jensens. Mr. Jensen had left it to Aja, with Lauren’s blessing, along with a thousand dollars in a college savings plan. The car was clean, no-frills, and best of all it didn’t make any funny noises.

  Mr. Jensen had even remembered Lamont. The night he died, after the dinner, Mr. Jensen had taken the time to go through his clothes and accessories and put them in a box with a note for Lamont to “enjoy his fly duds, and think of him when he wore them.” That tough guy, Lamont, was so moved that someone remembered him his eyes filled with tears, although he tried valiantly to hide them.

  Aja was still a little teary-eyed after saying good-bye to her mother, even though her mom had promised to join her in Austin as soon as she settled things here. The lure of California still beckoned, but Aja decided to use the scholarship money and stay in Texas. Mrs. Burnett was happy about that and promised to help along the way. The University of Texas was her alma mater, too, so she made sure Aja had more burnt orange T-shirts and sweats than she would ever need.

  As Aja got on I-35 south to start her new life, she thought about Mr. Jensen’s memorial service. Posters with photo-collages had decorated the church lobby. There was laughter as well as tears and, even through the sadness, she sensed that Mr. and Mrs. Jensen had come full circle together in life and now in death. After her shift that night, Aja had seen them in the garden, where she and Walker had their romantic dinner. Mr. and Mrs.
Jensen glowed with love. They danced and dipped and smiled at Aja before their image dissipated, leaving a diaphanous glow like an aurora borealis and a feeling of all things good. Just like her mom’s angel snow globe.

  Golden Leaves held a going away party for Aja’s last night at work. Tish tried to keep up with Mrs. Poston, who was finally off the scooter and on her feet. Aja smiled, thinking of the odd friendship that had forged between the two. They were more alike than Aja could have ever imagined. Tish reminded Aja of a flower that could push up through a crack in concrete, a survivor in any environment. Mrs. Poston was more like a rose with sticky thorns; you needed to handle her with caution, but there was beauty within. Aja was proud of Tish, who’d aced all her tests so far, thanks to Dr. Landers and the other residents who’d taken her under their wings. Mrs. Poston used the money from Tish’s cuss-jar to help Tish pay for school.

  “With all this money, young lady, you should be well on your way through a master’s degree,” Mrs. Poston told her.

  Janie and Gabe bought Aja a blender for her new apartment in Austin. “So you can make good food like me,” Gabe joked. Aja figured she’d use it more for fruit smoothies then blended meat.

  Edna Jones had given her a glowing letter of recommendation for Aja’s job interview at an assisted living community in Austin. The director there was willing to work around Aja’s school hours.

  Best of all was Clay Richards’s prison sentence, ten years minimum in the slammer. Maggie had done a great job, culling through complaints that had been filed against him, previously ignored because the young girls hadn’t been believed. It was Julia’s testimony that had sealed his fate, that and the photographs he’d taken of some of the girls he’d arrested that were found on his hard drive. The pictures were of Tish and Julia mostly. Aja shivered, remembering the photos he’d taken of her through her window while studying.

  He had stalked Julia relentlessly and sexually assaulted her, but she was too afraid to report him because he was a police officer. She and Ms. Lewis had reconnected, with Ms. Lewis vowing to stand beside Julia during her testimony.

  Sissy, Tish’s friend, was pregnant again. But Lamont, with help from Mrs. Burnett, was working to get his GED.

  Aja passed an eighteen-wheeler on the highway and looked in her rearview mirror. Walker followed behind in his car. Aja smiled. He was pretty special to decide to change his plans of going back to Chicago and go to UT instead. His grandparents had encouraged him to go if he promised to visit often. They were happy to have him stay in Texas, even though his parents, and probably Kendall, wanted him to come back to Chicago.

  Aja smiled, remembering the first time she’d seen Walker. Naked, standing on a pedestal, her mom and her art class sketching his muscled body. Aja had to laugh. Her life would never be normal and that was okay. Maybe being a screwed-up outcast, who connected with dead people and could see people’s auras, wasn’t so bad after all.

  At least she’d never be bored. Maybe life was a little like her mom’s snow globe. Shake it up and dance in the light of the raining gold dust like the angel inside.

  Aja reached over to the passenger seat and took a hunk of the coffee cake Clara Wells had made for her trip. She stuffed a messy mouthful in, careful not to spill too many crumbs in her clean new car. She was sure Walker had already reduced his half of the cake to crumbs by now.

  Yes, life was good, and it would continue to be good.

  How did she know?

  She just had a feeling.

  Acknowledgement

  Snow Globe was inspired by a friend’s godchild, Paizley Sloan. Paizley has an intuitive gift and some of the stories in the book are based on true events. Another person who inspired me is my aunt, Anne Emerman (in the book she’s the inspiration for Aja’s mom). My aunt has rallied for causes, especially for the disabled, her whole life. In the late 80s she was the Director of The Mayor’s Office For People with Disabilities in New York. She's been paralyzed and wheelchair bound since she was seven after being stricken with polio.

  I'm indebted to all who read and helped critique Snow Globe: My wonderful writer's group, Mary Turner, Ian Pierce, Kathy Yank, Lou Tasciotti and Jean Reynolds Page (author of six amazing novels). Jacquelyn Smith, author of “Cemetery Tours” and “Between Worlds” and who has helped me branch out with marketing. My fabulous sister-in-law Angela Sheets who initially edited my hot mess of a book. When my editor, Alicia Street, received it, she was impressed with how “clean” the writing was. My dear friend Cheryl Duncan who reads all my stuff and gives me the confidence to keep going. Sally Harvey my bookie-buddy offered kind comments and good advice. My sweet granddaughter, Emma Robinson who, at eleven, is an avid reader. My friend, Donna Holmes, who got so mad while she was reading threw the book across the room because of all the bad stuff that was happening to Aja. I attended a Donald Maas seminar (a literary agent) after that and he said, “If you can get someone to throw your book across the room because of the conflict, then you have a good book.” I must mention my cover artist Erin Dameron-Hill who designs such excellent book covers that people actually gasp when they see them. Formatting expert, Amy Atwell makes the books “real.”

  And last, but certainly not least, my daughter Alexandra who puts the spark in my soul and is always in my heart. And my husband, Terry, who has always encouraged me to write and never gets upset when I disappear for hours with my computer.

  Thank you all.

  About the Author

  When not writing Jeanne Skartsiaris also works as a Sonographer. Prior to that she was a medical/legal photographer for a plaintiff’s law firm.

  She attended creative writing courses at Southern Methodist University and is a member of Romance Writer's of America and the local chapter, Dallas Area Romance Authors.

  Also the author of Surviving Life.

  She lives in Dallas, Texas.

  Look for Jeanne – on Facebook at Jeanne Skartsiaris, Author, and Twitter, @jskartsiaris. Her web address is http://www.jeanneskartsiaris.com.