Being a free spirit meant Amber was open to everything. Some people would mistake that attitude as a cloak for a serious problem. Her boyfriends—there had been many—would often blame either her drinking or outgoing personality as the reason why they were leaving her.
She tried to stop the thoughts about her last boyfriend, Ted, before they came, but was too late. Damn… He was one of the few—if not the only—she’d truly cared about. Laid back, easy going, he accepted her character for what it truly was and never tried changing it.
He reminded her of David.
Probably why Ted and David hated each other so much.
Several times Amber had tried setting up man dates for the two of them. Both men would agree to do so, but by the end of the arrangement they’d be tearing into each other. Amber had never seen David so disapproving of a boyfriend as he was with Ted. He’d told her he didn’t want to be around if Ted was going to be there. It tore a hole through her. She’d wanted nothing more than for David and Ted to click, or at least try to tolerate each other.
It never happened.
And after only three months, Ted split. He’d told her he couldn’t compete against her brother. He’d said since her father had passed away when she was so young she looked at David as not only a brother, but a father figure to judge all men by. Then he went on to explain how unhealthy that was, and she would live a miserable life alone and lonely if she continued doing so. She hated to admit that he’d been right.
Another one for Amber’s epic book of broken relationships.
Beer. Amber needed another beer. Immediately.
“Ah-ha,” Mom announced, knee deep in paper rubbish.
She grunted as she stood, carrying an unwrapped box in her pudgy arms. It wasn’t the average cardboard gift box. Made of fine wood, three inches in depth, and possibly thirty in length. It was long, thin. Couldn’t be jeans—possibly a T-shirt, or knowing their mother’s thought process it could be underwear.
“Here sweetie,” she said, handing the box to David.
Skinny as it was, the wood was thick and looked heavy on his lap. He groaned when she passed it over. He rubbed his hands along the smooth wood. It was obviously old, but appeared to be as smooth as baby’s skin from where Amber sat. David fingered the bronze latch at the front. It hooked through a golden oval. The latch looked authentic. Amber didn’t doubt that it alone was worth a few grand.
An uneasy chill worked its way through Amber’s body. She felt it in her bowels, toes, chest, and back. She quivered. What is it about that box? She had a horrible feeling about this gift. David shouldn’t have it, and better not open it.
Words to warn him were stuck in her throat, and Amber couldn’t speak, only watch in horror. Yet she was just as curious as the others about what was inside.
“Well, are you going to open it?” asked Carol.
David had been holding the box, caressing, fondling, for a few seconds while the others watched him in anticipation. “Oh…sorry.”
Carol sat on the floor in front of David. Sam scooted over to give her more room near her son. Carol watched David with eager eyes, like an excited child at story time.
David pushed his thumb against the latch, flicking it open. It clicked, causing Amber and Sam to gasp at the slight sound. No one seemed to notice.
From Amber’s line of sight, the box appeared to be empty. But David’s confused expression proved otherwise.
“What is this?” he asked.
“Take it out, I’ll explain.”
“Uh—Okay.” Balancing the box on his knees, he reached inside and removed a skinny board. It was wide enough that he needed both hands to hold it.
Carol took the wooden crate off his lap and set it on the floor. Then David put the board in its place. Now Amber could see what it was. Made out of wood, obviously a long time ago, was a Ouija board. The paint had faded, but she could see a halo design across the top.
And something like wings in the middle.
“I don’t understand,” said David.
“An angel board,” answered Carol with a homely smile. Reaching behind her into the crate, she removed a pointer. Hand-carved out of stone, it was a light gray, triangle-shaped object, with a clear glass circle on top, featureless and blank. She set the heavy item on the board. It shifted, but David quickly caught it before it could fall.
“An angel board?” asked Amber. “That’s a Ouija board. There’s nothing angelic about that.”
Amber was correct as to the layout. It had two rows of letters in front of the wings. The top row consisted of A-N, with O-Z underneath. Above the word GOOD-BYE were the numbers 0-9. Single words were in the top corners. A YES adorned the left, and NO the right. It had been colored in purple around the edges, and a bright pink in the center for the clouds. The lettering was bold and white.
No doubt, thought Amber, this is a Ouija board.
“No, Amber,” corrected Carol. “This was designed for communication with angels, not spirits.”
“It’s a Ouija board, plain and simple. Has the same concept. It doesn’t care what it was designed for; it can only lead you to nowhere good.”
Carol turned to David, shaking her head. “Don’t listen to her, David. I used this for a long time after your father passed away. It helped me through some very difficult times.”
Amber was dumbfounded. Mom had used it? Church-going, money-offering, Bible-thumping Mom had used something the church detested? Mom had spent years lecturing Amber about the dos and don’ts of life. In her mother’s eyes, everything Amber embodied was on the don’t side. She’d never forget the lashing she received after Carol had discovered Amber was studying Wicca.
Had she really used it after Daddy died?
“Mom, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” David started.
Get her, David!
“But this isn’t like you to give something like this.”
“Like I told you, it helped me when your father died.”
“How?”
“I was able to talk to the angels who were taking care of Phil, protecting him. It made me feel so much better knowing he was at peace, and in Heaven.”
“What a load of horseshit,” said Amber cruelly. “Mom, you were talking to demons that were just pretending to be angels. Please tell me you didn’t use it alone.”
“Amber, stop it.”
Amber was shocked to hear those words. Not coming from Mom or David, but Sam. She shot a scolding look at Amber that was warning her to back off.
“What did you say?” asked Amber.
“You heard me.”
Oh, that bitch.
“I have an idea. Why don’t you take your grimy hands off my brother, get off your ass, and come over here and say it again. I can probably hear you better.”
Speechless, Sam’s face went scarlet from embarrassment. The back of her neck burned red with fury. Her eyes were fixed wide.
“What’s your problem?” asked David.
His question pulled Amber back, forcing her to realize she’d been acting like a stark-raving bitch since dinner. And over what? A stupid board game that probably wouldn’t work anyway. If David wanted to fool around with that crap, then by all means, she’d let him.
“Nothing,” she answered. “I’ll shut my mouth. Have your fun.” Amber stood. Her head swam. The room tilted, but not as wildly as before. She stormed out of the living room, charging for the kitchen in search of another beer.
A crashing sound came from the kitchen, causing everyone in the living room to flinch.
“There went her empty bottle,” said David.
“Pay her no mind,” said Carol. “I’ll clean it up.”
“Sorry,” said Sam. “I didn’t mean to start anything.”
“It’s not your fault,” said David.
“No, it’s not,” Carol agreed. “She’s been getting worse and worse since she and Ted broke up. I worry about her.”
&nb
sp; “I should go talk to her,” said David.
“Give her time to calm down. She’ll be okay.”
“Fine.”
Carol brought their focus back to the board. “When you were in the hospital, you told me you saw a lady in white that night.”
“Yeah, but now that I’ve had time to think back on it, that could’ve been Sam.”
“It’s true, I was wearing my white scrubs.”
Shaking her head, Carol said, “Nope. You described her as having long, black hair. Sam doesn’t. The lady you mentioned fits the common description by many near-death witnesses.”
Near death. The words made David shiver.
Carol continued. “The way you told it was that you were in a state of limbo, just kind of floating. Right?”
Right. And David now wondered why he’d told her that. Through life, he’d never told her much about himself. Why had he felt the need to tell her so much while he was in the hospital?
Because she was the only person who would’ve believed any of it.
“Right…” David finally said.
“People call that void between life and death the interface.”
“Inter-what?”
“Interface. I hate to tell you this, but that’s what most churches believe is the path to hell.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Well, it’s true. You had committed the ultimate sin and were being punished for it. Thankfully, your guardian angel didn’t let it happen.”
David remembered thinking that he might have been in hell. Now he was certain of it. But he was pulled out, saved. By two warm hands. He could still feel their temperate touch on his skin.
“She saved you, David.”
A cold chill scurried up his body. “I know she did.” He felt silly for admitting it, especially in front of Sam, but it was true. He didn’t bother wiping his eyes when the tears began.
“If you ever think you might try going back down that path again, or if you just need to know that she’s there with you, use the board. Talk to her. It’s the only way you can, and that’s what she’s there for. For you.”
Taking it all in, David felt extremely light-headed. His body, nipped with chills, was coated in a gelid sweat. His mother placed a hand on his knee and squeezed, viewing him with heartening eyes.
“Excuse me,” said Sam. “I’ll be back.”
Even though David was certain he’d heard Sam speak, he had no clue what she’d said. When he glanced over his shoulder, she was gone. He couldn’t have cared less.
Standing outside, Sam decided her night wasn’t going to go the way she’d hoped. She had imagined David at her place after dinner. Talking and catching up. She would offer him another beer that he would decline. Saying he must be going, she’d in return ask him to stay. And of course, he’d say yes. A perfect plan, simple. It would have worked.
Carol ruined it.
What did I do? wondered Sam. Amber was right. Even though she was being nasty about it, she’d been right. I shouldn’t have snapped at her like that. Carol was saying junk that David didn’t need to hear. Going to hell, angels saving him. Who talks like that to their son?
Sam had infuriated Amber for no good reason. Amber had known how David would react to Carol’s wonderful present. She’d done nothing a good sister wouldn’t have. So, after that, Sam had excused herself from the room to go find her and apologize for what she’d said. She checked in the kitchen, found it empty. Same result when she checked the porch, the bedrooms, and now outside. Amber’s car was still parked out here, but she was nowhere around.
She’s hiding.
From Sam?
From everyone.
Standing in the freezing December air, Sam wanted to hide as well. It truly felt like a Christmas she was used to.
Chapter Six
David unlocked the door to his apartment and bumped it open with his hip. His arms were occupied with a giant bag of gifts. Mom always gave too much every year. Which always seemed to make it difficult to enter his own home.
The angel board was gripped under his left arm.
Inside, the apartment was dark. David had turned off all the lights before leaving, and now he regretted it. Twisting his hand awkwardly against the wall, he formed it into the shape of a spider, crawling along the wall. He fumbled for the light-switch. Nicking it with his fingers, he used the middle one to flick the lights on.
And on Christmas night, David brought light to his shitty little apartment.
When the light clicked on, the darkness of the living room was pushed to the corners by the dreary gleam. Bleak, but bright enough for him to see just fine.
He kicked the door shut behind him, not caring to lock it. He had other pressing matters on his mind; stuff he wanted to do that couldn’t wait.
It was eating at him deep inside. A longing, mighty desire to contact her. He wanted to know who she was, why she was there.
Is she always there?
He figured so. She must have been watching him the entire time. He suddenly felt guilty, even more so than when he woke in the hospital and had a roomful of eyes staring at him. Sam, Mom, Amber, and Martin—He’d looked hurt the most. He felt a heavy sort of shame that night, but now, as he sat the gargantuan of a gift bag on the floor, he felt true guilt.
He sat on the couch, pressing his buttocks into the sagging cushion. Settling the heavy wooden case on his lap, he unlatched the lid and opened it. He cautiously reached inside and removed the board and pointer. With the pointer nestled in his fingers, he studied the indistinct markings chiseled into it. Symbols, unlike any he’d ever seen. Reminded him of cave drawings he’d seen in the history books back in college—the year he actually went—while studying artifacts and archaeology. These symbols weren’t in any of those books he’d read.
If this were a hoax, David assumed, a lot of effort had been put into it. The strange markings had an odd kind of beauty to them.
But they were also very creepy.
Tossing the crate aside, he situated the board on his lap. He sat the pointer in the middle, positioning the glass eye just over the halo. He doubted he’d succeed in contacting anyone. It all seemed pointless, but he still wanted to try.
Here we go…
David gently placed his fingers on each side of the pointer. He felt a tingling sensation under his fingers, as if the board was pumping a moderate current through his hand. If felt good. Soothing. Calming.
He felt a little numb, and lightheaded.
Taking a deep breath, he began, “Hello?”
Already still, the room suddenly seemed to hold its breath. On any given night, David could usually hear the faint sounds of a neighbor’s television or radio, even the muffled tones of conversation. But, at this moment, he heard nothing except the drumming of his heartbeat.
Silence.
All his life, David had loathed silence. If there was total quietness, then something was wrong, out of place. The world was not supposed to drag, nor should it ever cease to make noise. It was what really made the world go around, not money.
Silence equaled death.
He remembered how quiet it had been in the funeral home when he was allowed to see his father’s body. Resting in the coffin, rigidly positioned, Phillip Barker was painted a fading brown. His cheeks and lips had been done up in a rosy red. The empty, blank carcass in the coffin was not his father. Just an empty shell that once housed him. The way the body looked, it could have been a very ugly woman in its life.
His relatives had stood outside the door, watching him take small steps to the coffin. They didn’t speak. All there had been was the silence. And the smells. The cold smells of death and fragrances that were meant to hide those odors, but all they had accomplished was mixing with them and making them more pungent.
No one ever spoke. Never consoled him. There was only stillness in the air—David and his dead father. He’d prayed for someone to say something, anything,
but he was left alone with that silence.
There was movement under his fingertips, and the scuffling sound of stone across wood.
It was barely noticeable, but there. He looked down at the board, waiting for it to happen again. The temperature seemed to drop all around him. On his arms, goose bumps rippled up his skin like hardening stones.
She was coming.
“Are you here?” he asked, looking around the room as if he’d actually catch a glimpse of her.
The pointer began to shift, moving again to the left. Slowly scooting across the board, it gained speed and force. Then it found the wings, and began tracing the outline in a circular pattern.
David’s breath snagged. His heart pounded so hard against his chest he feared it might burst through and splat on the board. His mouth was parched. He licked his lips. They felt fragile under his tongue. “Is…that you?” he managed to say.
The pointer shot out and to the left. The glass of the eye stopped at the halo, settling over the word YES.
The fingers of his right hand had slipped off the indicator from the quick motion. He held his fingers above the pointer, flexing them. Preparing himself to attempt this again. His swift breaths raised his heavy chest up and down.
It worked. The fucking thing actually worked.
With prudence, David lowered his fingers to the stone. When he placed them on top, it quickly came to life again, sliding back to the center, endlessly tracing along the wings.
Before David had another chance to speak, it skidded to the letters and spelled H-E-L-L-O. Then the pointer slid to the center, resuming its circling.
David smiled. His fear faded, as if being evaporated into the air. “Hello,” he said, gulped. “Are you…the one…?”
YES.
David’s stomach fluttered. Butterflies frolicked inside. “I thought so.” David combed his mind for questions. Searching through the many, he latched onto one. “Do you know who this is?”
Angel Board Page 4