by B. N. Toler
Letting out a sigh, I said, “I’m sorry, Charlotte. It seems you’re never short of complicated situations when it comes to us McDermott men.” When she didn’t respond I continued, “You’ve had to deal with so much, Charlotte. I can’t imagine…” It was my turn to trail off as the weight of it all swirled around us.
She shifted, wiggling closer to me, nestling her head into the crook of my neck. I shifted to put my arm around her, but suddenly I couldn’t lift my arm. What the…? My body lulled to the side as I futilely fought to stay upright. Shit. What was happening to me? My vision blurred as a wave of dizziness rushed over me. It felt like I was about to pass out. But that was impossible—that didn’t happen on this side.
“Ike?” Charlotte’s voice was distant even though I could still feel her next to me. A moment later, my strength gave out and my body made a loud thunking sound as it hit the ground.
“Ike!” Charlotte gasped. “What’s happening?”
Even if I’d been able to speak, I wouldn’t have had an answer. Heaviness beared down on me, pulling me underneath into darkness. Seconds later, Charlotte’s voice disappeared. My heart pounded in my chest, panic I hadn’t felt in so long coursing through me. Damn, I hadn’t missed this feeling at all. I wasn’t unconscious. In fact, I was very much awake, acutely aware I was drifting in slow motion, defenseless against whatever was sucking me into an inky blackness. I had no choice but to let myself be taken. Bile eroded my throat as nausea consumed me.
After an interminable moment, a pinprick of light began to appear, the sudden contrast causing me to squint. Then I hit a floor, grunting with the impact. Pushing myself up clumsily to rest on my elbows, my body devoid of strength, I focused on breathing evenly while I waited for my vision to clear. My hands were the first to become recognizable, then a dirty hardwood floor beneath them. I shifted to my side, struggling to pull myself into a seated position as another wave of nausea hit me. I’m going to vomit. What the hell? I was dead. I shouldn’t be feeling sick or weak, or passing out.
“I can see both of you.”
I reflexively whipped my head in the direction of the voice I heard, realizing the mistake too late as the nausea intensified. I blinked rapidly, pulling air in through my nose as I fought for control. Had that been Charlotte’s voice?
With some effort, I could just make out the silhouette of a kneeling woman. I focused all of my energy on seeing who it was, and I’d been right. “Charlotte,” I rasped, reaching out a shaky hand for her.
She didn’t flinch. Her attention remained focused on whoever she was speaking to. She was kneeling in a hallway in front of a doorway, and standing just behind her were George and Sniper. Despite the immense discomfort, I smiled.
“George. Sniper,” I sputtered scooting toward them as best as I could, but neither of them seemed to hear or see me.
“Yes, both of you,” Charlotte said. “There are two of you here.”
My gaze darted to Charlotte again, then back to George and Sniper, a sickening dread creeping up my back. They didn’t know I was here.
Sweat beaded on my forehead. “George!” I barked again, louder, but he didn’t flinch. I pounded my fist on the floor. “Sniper! Charlotte! Look at me, damn it!” Nothing. My chest tightened. They were right there in front of me, how could they not hear me? It was just like when I was in limbo—
“Just calm the hell down, Ike,” I said aloud, not bothering to keep the thoughts in my head, since clearly no one was around to hear me talk to myself. If it were limbo and I’d somehow been pulled back, Charlotte would have been able to see or hear me, so it had to be something else. “Think, Ike,” I growled as I blocked out the nausea and managed to inch myself closer. “Maybe if you can just touch them…” I pondered aloud to myself.
As I shifted closer to the three of them, the room Charlotte was kneeling in front of came into view and I saw two young girls standing practically on top of each other. Living beings couldn’t do that so I knew they had to be spirits.
Something stirred in the back corner of the hallway, drawing my attention away from the images before me. There was a woman I’d never seen before watching me. None of the others seemed to notice her presence. She was an attractive woman despite her heavy eyeliner, odd wardrobe, and slender frame.
“Can you see me?” I asked her.
Her choppy bangs slid to the side as she tilted her head to peer at me with her emerald eyes.
Oh yeah, she definitely saw me.
I opened my mouth to ask who she was but, unlike how I was pulled into this moment, I was suddenly ripped away from it at hyper-speed.
“Ike?” I forced my eyes open at the familiar voice. Grams stared down at me, concern creasing her brow. It took me a moment to realize I was on her couch.
“He’s awake,” she called over her shoulder. Returning her attention to me, she smiled faintly. “You gave us quite a scare,” she confessed. “Poor Charlotte was beside herself.”
“Dude,” Axel huffed when he came into view, pulling his shaggy hair from his face with swipe of his hand, just so it could flop right back where it was before. “Where’d you go, man?”
I didn’t know how to answer that question.
“You scared me,” Charlotte said as she sat beside me, releasing a heavy sigh.
I cleared the rasp from my voice enough to manage, “I’m sorry.” I moved to sit up, but Grams pressed my shoulders.
“You should rest, child.”
Nausea roiled my belly, but I couldn’t sit still. “I need to sit up,” I insisted. “I need to think.”
As I moved to stand, Charlotte stood and reached for my hands, helping me up, holding my forearms as I wobbled a little. “Maybe you should lay down, Ike.”
“I’ve never seen anyone here do that,” Axel noted.
“Do what?” Charlotte asked.
“Pass out. Have you?” he asked Grams. Grams glanced at me and then down. That was a no, but she didn’t want to say it and alarm me, or more importantly, Charlotte.
Charlotte frowned as a little indention formed between her brows. “What does that mean?”
Wanting to ease her worries, I pulled her to me, guiding her head to rest on my shoulder. “I don’t know, baby girl,” I admitted. “All that matters is it’s over.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she mumbled against my shoulder.
“Charlotte...I think I had a dream about you,” I confessed. Where ever I’d gone, I knew Charlotte had been there, but the details were fuzzy. “It was weird. You and George were there. Sniper was there, too,” I scoured my mind for more, “and two little girls I’m pretty sure were dead.”
Charlotte pulled away suddenly, her gaze distant and unfocused as the color drained from her face. I squeezed her arms, afraid she’d collapse. “Charlotte, what’s wrong?”
“You were in the Hell House,” she said absently before covering her mouth and moving out of my reach.
“The what?” Axel asked.
“I wasn’t there, exactly,” I clarified then added, “it was more like I was watching it, but from inside.” Frustrated, I scratched my head searching for a better way to explain it, knowing I wasn’t making any sense. “None of you could see me.”
“How could you have dreamt that?” she asked, more to herself than me.
I answered her anyway. “I don’t know.”
“What is the Hell House?” Axel asked again, more emphatically this time.
Charlotte turned to face us, her expression suddenly horrified. Her body seemed to collapse under her, but I caught her and moved her to sit on the sofa. The grip she had on my arm was so tight her knuckles had turned white. Clearly shaken, she finally met each of our gazes. “I remember what I was doing,” she said warily. “I remember what I was doing when I died.”
George
I traced the empty space on Charlotte’s ring finger with my thumb, a fresh ache forming in my heart as I remembered the look on my mother’s face when I’d given her Charlotte�
��s rings to hold on to. I’d hated doing it, but hospital policy dictated ICU patients weren’t allowed to wear jewelry—something about precautions, just in case. Mom’s eyes were sullen as she took them. She couldn’t hide that deep down she was already mourning my wife. She believed she wouldn’t be giving them back to Charlotte. I’d asked Sniper to stop at our house and grab Ike’s tags from Charlotte’s jewelry box so I could add them to the cross necklace that had been a gift from her bother Axel and Charlotte had given me just before I’d left for rehab. I don’t know why I’d thought of Ike’s tags, other than I wanted the comfort of my brother. Maybe it was farfetched, but I liked to believe that our brothers were watching over her. I believed wherever this road led Charlotte, if they could help her, they would.
“How’s our girl this afternoon?”
I jerked at the sound of Marlena’s voice behind me. She had an eerie way of sneaking up on people; though it was more likely I’d just been preoccupied with Charlotte’s lack of improvement over the last three days. “Quiet,” I finally murmured as she rounded the bed and stood across from me.
She glanced at the framed photo my mother had placed on the nightstand, having noticed my gaze had paused on it as I’d shifted in the chair to see her better. It was one my dad had taken the day I’d proposed. Marlena picked it up and studied it before turning it to me. “Tell me about it.”
I flinched when Sniper chuckled from his seat in the corner, pretending to be interested in a magazine. He’d been so quiet since he’d arrived a little while ago, I’d forgotten he was there.
“This is the best story,” Sniper said as I shook my head, attempting to clear it of the ever-present fog.
Marlena smiled knowingly at him, “You’re the bloke who told him about me, yeah?”
Sniper stood and nodded, holding his hand out as he said, “That I am. Friends call me—”
“Sniper,” she interrupted, “but your real name is Francis.”
Sniper’s usual shit-eating grin vanished, making me smirk. He detested his name, which only made the whole alpha-male-with-a-girlie-name that much funnier.
“Watch yourself, Marlena,” I warned, humor lacing my tone. “Ol’ Franny is a bit sensitive about his name.”
“Asshole,” Sniper muttered. Eager to deflect his humiliation towards me, he quickly added, “Tell her how you proposed, George. It’s a great story.”
I groaned and rolled my eyes. “Maybe another time,” I said, suddenly feeling my exhaustion. While the levity of the moment, albeit brief, had been nice, it had sapped the last shred of energy from me. Uninterrupted sleep was impossible with the nurses checking on Charlotte at regular intervals throughout the night, but I’d flatly refused to be away from her for that long of a stretch, much to my parents’ dismay.
Marlena walked around the bed and squeezed my shoulder. “What say we go for a walk, get some air.”
“I think I shou—”
“I’ve got her, George,” Sniper interrupted my protest, assuming I didn’t want to leave Charlotte alone, but the truth was, I didn’t want to leave her at all. With deliberate motions, he moved his chair from the corner to the side of the bed and sat, meeting my gaze across the bed. “Aye, go on, now, boy-o. It’ll do ya good to stretch yer legs. Me and the misses will be just fine, won’t we, Lass,” he said, patting Charlotte’s hand. I sighed reluctantly and stood, leaning down to kiss Charlotte’s forehead. I’d learned very quickly there was never any point in arguing when the man went full-Scottish.
Marlena walked toward the door, and I followed her out of the room. The nurses’ scrubs, covered with puppies wearing bright bows and various cartoon characters, were the only color in the drab abyss, contrasting almost violently with the dreary gray walls and muted white tile floors. Did hospitals have to look so depressing?
“It didn’t quite go as planned, did it?” Marlena asked as we made our way to the elevator.
“What didn’t?” I asked, not following her train of thought.
“The proposal,” she chuckled.
“Ohhh, yeah,” I smiled weakly as I met her gaze. The twinkle in her eyes told me she was seeing pieces of the elaborately planned disaster.
“No, it didn’t,” I finally admitted. “But it made for a great story.”
“Make sure it’s tied on there tight, son. Don’t want to lose that now. Your mother would lose her mind,” Dad warned as he watched me make my sixth knot.
I know he was just watching out for me, so I didn’t comment, but I wasn’t an idiot. I knew how much was on the line—literally and figuratively speaking.
“George!” Mom shouted from the top of the hill. “Sniper just called. Charlotte is on her way!” I’d left Charlotte at the restaurant, telling her I was going fly fishing with my father. The plan was for Sniper to tell her Mom had called the restaurant in a panic and said I’d slipped and hurt my back, and needed Charlotte to come get me. Faking an injury wasn’t the kindest thing to do to my then-girlfriend, but it was all I could come up with. And as my parents loved Charlotte and wanted to see me settle down, they were more than willing and eager to participate in my plan, even if it involved a tiny bit of deception on their parts.
My stomach clenched as I met my father’s reassuring stare. This was it. It was go time. Clapping a firm hand on my shoulder, he yelled back to my mother, “Okay, Beverly! We’re all ready down here!”
Mom clapped her hands together and shimmied in excitement. “Good luck, George! Don’t blow it!”
I narrowed my gaze. Of all days, my mother chose this one to tease me. “Gee thanks, Mom!” I replied dryly.
“You’ll do fine, son,” Dad reassured me. “All that really matters is that she says yes, and I’m not worried about that. The day your mother agreed to marry me was the best day of my life. God knows what I’d have done if she’d said no. You’re a good man, George, and I’ve watched you and Charlotte. She loves you. As long as you never stop fighting for each other, you’ll be as happy as your mother and I have been all these years.”
I nodded, unable to find a proper response. My father’s blessing meant the world to me, and his praise meant even more. If Charlotte, by some miracle, agreed to marry me, I’d spend every day trying to give her the kind of love and marriage my parents shared.
Charlotte came rushing down the hill fifteen minutes later. As planned, Dad was ‘resting’ in his lawn chair near the river bank, his waders on the ground beside him while I was fully geared up and in the water ‘casting.’
Raising her hand to her head to block the sun from her eyes, she shouted, “Your mom said you hurt your back. What are you doing in the water?”
“Oh, it was just a spasm,” I called over the rush of the small rapids, turning to meet her gaze to reassure her, pleased to see her confused expression. So far, so good. “I’m much better now,” I added for effect, hoping my voice didn’t sound as fake as it felt. I nearly lost it when she planted her hands on her hips, a tell-tale sign she was gearing up to give me an ass-chewing.
“I just hauled as—” Charlotte cut herself off as she glanced down at my father and harrumphed in frustration. I shook my head in amusement. The woman looked like an angel, but had the mouth of a sailor, and though her vocabulary included a long list of colorful words, she did her best to refrain from using them around my parents and a handful of others. She was taught to respect her elders.
My gaze followed hers to my father and I cringed at his poor attempt to look casual. She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes suspiciously as she gave my father a good look, then cut her eyes to me, her concerned expression silently asking, Is he okay? Shit. My father would’ve never made it in Hollywood. He couldn’t be chill to save his life. He was sitting in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, his body completely turned away from Charlotte. He definitely seemed off. I tightened my mouth as I looked at Dad. In his attempt not to give anything away, he was practically giving everything away.
He’s fine, I mouthed with a dismissive shru
g, attempting to move things along before her concern blew the whole thing. “Damn!” I shouted obnoxiously. “My line is stuck on something!” I winced at how robotic and unnatural I sounded. Apparently, I’d inherited my acting abilities, or lack thereof, from my father. I feigned tugging on my line to free it, praying it wouldn’t break free from where I’d purposely tied it in place.
“You look like you need some help, son,” my father blurted awkwardly on cue, his body practically springing from the seat and knocking over his chair. The man hadn’t moved that fast in years.
I took in a deep breath and ran a hand down my face. Though we hadn’t completely blown it, this was definitely not playing out the way I’d imagined it. The only saving grace was that Charlotte hadn’t seemed notice the two of us were acting like a couple of nut jobs.
“Yeah, I think I need someone to go unhook it,” I forged on, determined to complete my plan.
“I-I-I‘11help you, son,” Dad stuttered, before hunching over slightly. Just moments before he’d popped out of his seat like someone had poked him in the backside with a red-hot iron, and now he was moving like he was some decrepit, five-hundred-year-old man. He even reached one hand behind him, holding his lower back as he moved toward the waders, feigning the stereotypical old-man back, his face contorted in a grimace.
I looked up to the sky, unable to watch him and whispered, “Lord, please don’t let us blow this.” By the time I braved another look at the horrendous performance my dad was giving, Charlotte had a hand on his shoulder, insisting he sit back down.
“You can’t get it unhooked?” she called after Dad was back in the righted chair.
“No,” I lied, carefully giving the line another tug as confirmation. “It’s really stuck.”