18 Thoughts (My So-Called Afterlife Book 3)

by Ayres, Jamie

  “What?”

  “You didn’t feel that?”

  He made a face, sipping his hot chocolate again. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  He rocked back on his heels. “Olga, it’s hard for me to separate your thoughts from mine sometimes. But yes to that déjà vu thing.”

  “Sorry.”

  He shook his head. “For what?”

  “For taking over your mind.”

  Chuckling, he said, “I rather like the invasion. Most of the time.”

  I didn’t know what to say. He was so incredibly sweet that staying away from him seemed like the worst idea on the planet.

  “Do you want to dance?” Nate nodded toward our friends and held out his hand in an offer.

  By now, Sean and Nicole were drawing an audience with their spectacular booty shaking while Conner innocently danced with a young fan who looked about twelve.

  Once I said yes, Nate threw our cups away and lightly wringed my wrist with his fingers. We fought our way through a gauntlet of rough bodies, stale beer breath, and New Year’s Eve fanfare. Halfway to our friends, a collective shout went up with the chorus, and someone’s drink christened the top of my head. Gak! Why did I ever agree to this?

  Nate made an impatient noise and wiped the liquid off with the sleeve of his jacket. “Come here.” He drew me to him, curling his arms around my back.

  The clouds dropped snow right when the song ended, just before midnight, the perfect weather to epitomize a new beginning. Tilting my head up, I caught the cold drops on my tongue. Near the front of the stage, Traverse City’s own version of Times Square hung high above a twinkling Christmas tree. A giant lit cherry began to drop, a symbol of the Traverse City region since seventy-five percent of the nation’s cherry crop grew here. Nate and I joined the countdown at ten. At zero, we turned toward each other, and I began sinking in a sea of images flooding my mind.

  “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing” by Aerosmith blaring over loudspeakers.

  Everyone dancing.

  The disco ball rotating steadily, illuminating the room.

  Me, pressing my body against Nate’s.

  Him, leaning down, his hand on my cheek.

  Both of us, kissing.

  Then Conner was there, slamming into Nate and tackling him to the ground.

  “Conner! No!” I screamed.

  But it was too late. Conner, his eyes widened into dark circles, punched Nate square in the jaw. Crap! Not again!

  I put my hand over my heart, wondering if it’d burst from anxiety. “Where’s Kyle and Sean?” I screamed toward Tammy and Nic. “They have to stop this!”

  Too shocked and afraid to move, I watched Nate take Conner by the front of his shirt with one hand and punch him in the throat with the other. The hit didn’t deter Conner one bit. He took Nate’s face in both hands and slammed his head against the asphalt. Sean and Kyle were there a split second later, throwing him off Nate, but it was too late. Nate lay on the ground, out cold. And my Conner had already left, a monster in his place once again. I couldn’t even imagine the dark times that lay ahead in the new year.

  The plate of just-baked chocolate chip cookies lay untouched on the spotless counter in Nate’s kitchen. Mom tried to make small talk with Mrs. Barca, who mostly remained silent and stiff as we waited. She’d probably decided we were all crazy. I’d told her about the demon possession; there was no way not to when Mom called in Father Jamie.

  I took a sip from my mug of coffee and smiled at Mom, signaling I appreciated her efforts. On the stove, a pot of boiling soup threatened to spew everywhere. I knew the feeling, forcing down the urge to throw up. Quietly, I reached over from my stool next to the island and turned the dial to low heat just as Father Jamie came in.

  I jumped up. “Can I see him yet?”

  He had been in Nate’s room for about an hour, along with several area bishops, assessing “the situation.”

  Father Jamie hesitated. “I suppose it will be all right for you to see him. As far as we can tell”—he motioned toward the bishops standing behind him—“there’s no evil spirit in him.”

  Duh!

  “Whatever’s happening to Conner, and between you, Nate doesn’t seem to be the cause of it. Although I would advise you two to be vigilant. From the stories you’ve told me, it seems seeing you and Nate together brings out Conner’s dark side. He may come after you again.”

  It seemed that the power of my and Nate’s vision last night caused us to act it out without even realizing what we were doing. When Conner saw us kissing, he went nuts.

  Rubbing my angel pin, I thought of Conner, out there all alone somewhere again. How long would he stay away this time? “Father Jamie, why did the d-d-demon come back? I thought Conner was safe after you baptized him.” I still had trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that my best friend was possessed.

  Father Jamie shook his head. “I hoped he would be. But whatever spirit is possessing him must be strong. Some are more easily deterred than others. That’s not to say we should give up. Greater is He that is in us than he who lurks in the world, seeking to destroy it. Hold on to faith that good will triumph in the end, Olga.”

  Mom stood, clutching her purse. “Thank you for your help, Father Jamie. I’ll walk you and your friends out.”

  Father Jamie nodded. “Peace be with you,” he said to Mrs. Barca and me, speaking with finality, like he wanted to wash his hands of this whole situation.

  I whirled around to face Mrs. Barca, my eyes pleading, afraid she’d prevent me from ever seeing her son again.

  Her chin trembled, but she nodded her head.

  Running down the hall, I didn’t stop until I stood at Nate’s door. I tiptoed in, afraid he might’ve already fallen back to sleep. He suffered a concussion when Conner knocked him out last night, so we had spent three hours in the hospital with him until Mr. and Mrs. Barca arrived. Conner was nowhere to be found, but Nate’s parents were pressing charges, so now there was a warrant out for his arrest. The rest of the Jedi Order crashed with me at my grandparents’ house for a few hours, unusually quiet, before getting up at eight to make the long drive home. When I finally walked through the front door of my apartment, I was crying. Mom held me, and Dad brought me a cup of coffee. I curled up on the couch and told them about Conner hitting Nate and then running away. Dad stroked my hair as Mom got up to call Father Jamie, who decided a house call was in order.

  Now Nate laid back on his black futon, his head propped up by two pillows. He wore Star Wars pajama pants and a brown T-shirt fraying at the edges. He looked up as I approached him but said nothing.

  “Hey, Happy New Year.” My heart pounded. Does he blame me for what happened?

  Smelling freshly showered, he tucked a piece of wet hair behind his ear before scooting over and patting the space next to him.

  I sat, sliding my glasses off and setting them on his nightstand before wiping the water from my eyes. “I owe you an apology.”

  His splotchy face held a look of solemnity. “Don’t. I know how guilty you feel. I can read your thoughts.”

  Holding up a hand, I told him, “Just let me say the words.” I paused for a deep breath, willing myself to keep a steady voice. “I put you in danger by going out with you last night. Father Jamie was right. I should’ve stayed away from you.”

  Nate gave me an incredulous look. “Let me get this straight. Conner attacks me, and you’re to blame? I’m confused.”

  I sighed. “You’re an innocent in this whole thing, and Conner could’ve killed you last night because you were with me.”

  “Look, I don’t need you to protect me. I’m a big boy. And I’d rather die than not be part of your life.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I almost killed myself when you wouldn’t talk to me. Not like trying to, but I kept doing these crazy tricks on my board out at the boardwalk, on the edge of the pier. All these show-off tricks that Evel Knievel probably wouldn’t even do. Adam kept telling me I had a death wish.
”

  “You shouldn’t do that,” I scolded. “Promise me you won’t try any crazy stunts again.”

  His gaze seemed to drink me in. “I was just frustrated, trying to feel alive. Bo’s death still wears on me, you know. I know it may not make sense, but being with you is the only thing that takes my mind off the accident. Like you’re the reason I lived. If I don’t have you in my life, then it feels empty. I just want to be around you, Olga. Please don’t shut me out.”

  I leaned in closer, whispering an okay against his cheek, breathing in the smell of his hair and body wash, a smoky vanilla with a hint of musk. I’d looked in his shower when I used his bathroom earlier.

  “Now who’s creepy?”

  “Shut up.”

  My crazy heart swelled at the smile he gave me. I thought about Mom telling me I owed Conner one hundred percent of my heart to see if any romance existed between us, but sometimes a girl didn’t need romance and passion. Sometimes she needed stability. Conner was gone again, and didn’t Nate deserve one hundred percent of my heart to see if there could be something between us, too?

  It seemed like I watched myself having this conversation from very far away. From here, even though I sensed I’d been through all of this before, I couldn’t tell what the ultimate outcome would be. Yes, I had to have the courage to wait for answers. But waiting for the other pieces of the puzzle to be revealed didn’t mean I had to pack up my life and put it on hold until then. All I had now was what clearly lay in front of me at this very minute. No matter what’d happened between Nate and me before, this existence in the now was what we owned. Too much waiting for the future to happen meant I didn’t live today. And I wanted to own each second now could give.

  Wasn’t living what second chances were all about? Maybe I’d fall in love with Nate and get hurt. Maybe I’d hurt him. Putting it off until I had all the answers didn’t mean a guarantee we’d work out. The only way we’d know was to give it all we had, regardless of what had been or what would be. It meant we took a chance on love because love was worth the pain. It meant we had enough faith to try. Enough faith to know if we didn’t end up together in the end, that didn’t mean it was all for nothing. Enough faith to know everything happened for a reason, and all would be right in the end. Triumphs and failures make us who we are. And I wasn’t the same me as I was back then, wherever we’d been before. Now, I was finally strong enough to fail, finally strong enough to live.

  Nate pulled me close. “There’s a quote I read. ‘How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.’ Thoreau said it.”

  I interlaced all his fingers with mine. “How long have you been waiting to use that one on me?”

  “I’ve been waiting for the right time.” He looked over at me and smiled. “Now, will you please go on another date with me?”

  “You shouldn’t be so eager to find out a secret;

  it could change your life forever.”

  —Nate’s Thoughts

  aimed my flashlight at the fake rock Hide A Key. Quietly, I unlocked the front door and turned the knob, the flashlight barely piercing the blackness inside. This had been my idea, but suddenly I froze with terror. Part of me knew I was insane for technically breaking into Sean’s cabin, but the other part of me knew I needed to be brave. It’d been nearly six weeks since New Year’s Eve, and without any leads, I knew the time had come to conduct my own investigation. The tricky part was convincing Nate. He didn’t think either one of us should come, or that we shouldn’t bring the whole Jedi Order if we did. But I argued we needed to protect them. All the paranormal happenings seemed to revolve around Nate, Conner, and me. I thought keeping things between our smaller inner circle was best, for now at least, until we knew more about what we were dealing with.

  Actually, it took a lot for me to involve even Nate in my plans. Mom had taught me to be independent, tough, sacrificial. But I had the sensation that I’d wandered down the road of self-sufficiency before, a little too far, and that it had snowballed out of control. Maybe that’s why Nate could read my mind. It was hard to be too self-sufficient when someone heard my every thought. His gift was my curse and my blessing.

  My heart pounded faster as I fumbled for the light switch inside the cabin. Breathing a sigh of relief that Sean’s parents kept up payment on the electric bill for this place, I dropped my backpack to the floor and tucked the flashlight in its front pocket.

  After about twenty minutes that felt like two hours of looking around, Nate turned to me. “We can’t put it off any longer.”

  The only place we hadn’t looked was Sean’s parents’ bedroom, all alone in the back of the cabin. The floorboards creaked as we made our way to the closed door. On the handle hung one of those Privacy, Please Keep Out signs people used at hotels. With every fiber of my being, I wished I could do just that. But nothing could keep me from entering now. Unless I heard a strange noise. Then I’d probably break the record for world’s fastest sprint.

  Pausing, I prayed silently that nothing but answers greeted me beyond the door. Then after a final deep breath and a quick look over my shoulder at Nate, I flung the door open. Coldness and dust greeted us as we entered. I gritted my teeth, forcing away the urge to run. A sliver of light shone from the moon in the curtainless window, but there wasn’t a lamp anywhere in sight. Nate stretched his arm back and flicked on the hallway light, giving the bedroom a feeble brightness, but I still found myself wishing I hadn’t set down my flashlight earlier. The thought of going back for it crossed my mind, but I didn’t think my stomach could handle the walk back to this room again, and I didn’t want Nate to leave my side, either. Thankfully, there weren’t many places to search. The bedroom was small, just green-painted walls, an open closet, praise God, a bed, and a nightstand. Then my gaze landed on a wooden statue standing on top of a trunk in the far corner. It was in the shadows, just barely out of the reach of the light coming from the hallway.

  I’d never noticed any witchcraft-like items around Sean’s cabin or his house before. I crept closer, the hairs on my arms rising as my fingers brushed against the cold wall in the dark. For a moment, I couldn’t muster the courage to pick up the statue. His sadistic smile made me uneasy, like the doll knew what I was looking for even if I didn’t necessarily know myself.

  “Looks like an African Voodoo doll,” Nate said from beside me.

  The statue had brown skin stretched around a small head with empty eye sockets. His hands were posed in prayer, but as I ran my own trembling fingers across its rigid surface, I didn’t think it was God who he expected to answer.

  “You can’t hurt me,” I told the statue, even as I fought the impulse to hurl it across the room, afraid it might. The whole experience was getting to me, the room feeling like an echo of something dark.

  “Come on, Olga. There’s nothing here. Let’s go.”

  I nodded, but when I went to set the statue back down, I noticed it’d been standing on top of some file folders. Breathing in deeply, I tasted fear on my tongue as I opened the first one.

  I gasped. Inside the folder was an autopsy report for Conner, as if he were already dead. I scanned the page, reading the report with horror.

  “Aside from the medical jargon being all Greek to me, none of this report makes sense, right?” Nate asked, rubbing the back of my neck.

  “Right.” I swallowed a vast amount of saliva. “Conner never died; he’d lapsed into a coma for eighty days.”

  I picked up the other two folders, then slowly made my way back down the hallway. Nate followed silently, turning off the light as we passed. I stubbed my toe, immersed in rereading Conner’s report instead of looking where I walked. But the pain was distant compared to the real migraine forming as my mind played the what if game… What if Conner did really die? A yoke of heaviness choked off my air supply as Nate and I sat down at the kitchen table to look at the second file. I froze. My breath tucked itself away in my chest, refusing to come out, refusing to believe. The autop
sy report claimed I died a week after Conner on April ninth from a drug overdose in an apparent suicide.

  “What the heck?” Nate looked like everything around him was suddenly unfamiliar.

  My eyes crossed from trying to comprehend it all. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to read the last file, not surprised this time to see Nate’s name at the top. His date of death was May 18, 2012, from a car crash.

  “No autopsy this time, though, just my death certificate. Why?”

  I tried to think about things logically. “Well, death from a car crash wouldn’t need an autopsy report. But Conner could’ve died from the lightning strike or drowning or hypothermia, any number of things, and his parents would want confirmation. And if I committed suicide, my parents would want closure on how I did it, too, I guess.”

  Could all of that really have happened?

  Then I noticed words scrawled very lightly in pencil at the bottom left-hand side of each report. On Conner’s, the word Juvie/Camp Fusion/Leo. On mine and Nate’s, Limbo/Grand Haven/Judith Newton.

  My stomach clenched with the distinct feeling of needing to throw up.

  “Dr. Judy’s last name is Newton.” Nate’s voice seemed to be coming from very far away. He stared into space rather than at me.

  I nodded slowly. Even though I never called her by her last name, I remembered seeing it on her door.

  “Why would her name be on your autopsy report and my death certificate? And what’s Limbo?”

  Limbo. I turned the word over in my mind. “Actually, I had a memory. I didn’t know what it meant, but the word floated to the front of my subconscious after my first counseling session with Dr. Judy.”

  Suddenly, I felt teary and more unsure than I had before coming to the cabin. I didn’t understand any of it. The only thing I did know was I needed to get out of this place. Swallowing hard, I spun back toward the front door with the files in hand.

  “Let’s go.”

  I hitched my backpack over my shoulder and in a trancelike state, watched Nate flick off the light switch, lock the door, and replace the key in its fake rock. We ran down the porch steps to Dad’s Ford in record time. Like banshees hunting a graveyard, the wind shrieked, grabbing at my hair and trying to ensnare me. I pulled my jacket closer, burying my face in the fuzzy collar as I threw my stuff in the cab and hopped in. The darkness was beyond imagining while we drove down the dirt road stretching three miles before reaching the highway. Even then, home seemed impossibly far away.