by CJ Lyons
"I'll make him listen, damn it!"
She shook her head mournfully. "No. I have something he wants--I can give him the chance to make history. He'll bargain for that."
He pulled her tight against his body once more. "There has to be another way. There must be."
She burrowed into the warm comfort of his chest, allowing herself to drift in a universe that existed solely of the two of them. How long had she dreamed about a moment like this? It was still so difficult to believe that he was actually here, that she wasn't dreaming...
She wished this moment could last forever.
The sound of Alex's coughing drifted across the hall to them. Jimmy kissed the crown of her head, then released her.
"We'll find a way," he whispered, his fingers stroking her cheekbone.
Not trusting her voice, Grace merely nodded.
They returned to Alex's room. Jimmy sat with him, patiently collecting tissues filled with wads of bright green mucus as Grace got the boy some water. A few moments and half a box of Kleenex later, Alex was breathing normally again.
He lay back against his pillow and patted either side of the bed for Grace and Jimmy to join him. He pivoted his head, staring at Jimmy with an earnest expression.
"What's it like, dying?" Alex asked Jimmy.
Grace shook herself, reached to the chair beside her to check on Kat. The only light in the room came from the red Exit sign over the door, but that was enough for her to see that Kat still slept peacefully, hadn't heard the question.
Jimmy cleared his throat, his eyes meeting Grace's above Alex's head. "Aye now, don't you think that's a topic best discussed in the light of day?"
Alex gave a small humpf, unconsciously mimicking Jimmy. "No one ever wants to talk about what really matters. But you're a ghost, aren't you? I mean, if you're Grace's Jimmy, you must be, so who better to ask?"
"Ahhh--" Jimmy stammered.
"Alex, why would you think Jimmy is a ghost?" Grace asked when she found her voice.
"I Googled you--when you were over with Kat earlier," Alex explained as if his assumption was perfectly rational. "His picture was in the news story." He swiveled his head back toward Jimmy once more. "Along with his obituary."
"Busted." Jimmy chuckled. "Damn technology."
"So," Alex repeated with great patience, enunciating each word, "what's it like, dying?"
Jimmy gave Grace a silent shrug.
"It's all right," she said. "Go ahead, tell him." She wrapped her hand around Alex's shoulder, found herself holding her breath, waiting for Jimmy's answer.
Jimmy reached his hand to hers. Their wedding bands glowed red in the dim light, two embers of a dying fire. "Well now," he began, clearing his throat, "what do you think it's like?"
Alex shifted his weight in irritation. "Why do adults always answer a question with a question?"
"It's a trick he learned from a friend of ours, Brother Leo," Grace answered.
"No friend of mine," Jimmy retorted.
"Is it like falling asleep?" Alex continued, drawing their attention back to his question. "Or more like a blink of an eye--one second you're here and the next, you're gone?"
"Neither, both."
Grace and Alex both turned their heads to stare at Jimmy.
"Have you ever thrown a rock into a pond, watch the ripples?"
"So it's like drowning? Like falling?"
Jimmy shook his head. "No. Death is in the ripples. At first they're close together and you think you can hold on to everything. How you looked, what the world around you looked like, music, smells, memories. But then the ripples spread farther and farther apart and you begin to lose bits of yourself. The work that you spent a lifetime on, that's now gone over there, lodged between those bits of atoms making up that window. Your favorite song, that's floating up in the clouds making the rain falling over your grave. The woman you love..."
He trailed off, his fingers squeezing Grace's hand so tightly she almost winced in pain. She heard his breath catch before he began again.
"The woman you love, you hold tight to that, but by now you're dead and gone long enough that the ripples have taken you across the solar system and beyond so that now you're part of a new galaxy just forming and the ripples that once made you whole are as much a part of millions of other lives as they are of you. You can't remember who you are or why you were, but you hold onto that one minuscule piece of yourself. And," he turned his face to Grace's, his eyes gleaming in the dim light, "sometimes that small piece is enough to lead you back home."
Jimmy lay his lips against the silent tears that streamed down Grace's cheek. Alex sat in thought for a moment, then straightened, breaking their embrace.
"New galaxies? I could be part of a star or life on another planet or something?" His voice held the excitement that only a child could bring to such a morbid topic. "That's not too bad--better than some of the stories I've read. Zombies and vampires and stuff." He shot a look at Jimmy. "And ghosts. But for a ghost, you're all right."
"Thank you," Jimmy acknowledged the boy's approval with a nod and a smile. "But you know, I'm pretty special for a ghost. Only a few are strong enough to return at all and only a very, very rare breed can find their body again. Of course most of those are driven crazy by the shock of it all."
Alex's eyes went wide. "Crazy? You mean there are crazy ghosts walking around? Doing what?"
"They go mad with desire to remain here on Earth," Jimmy whispered, two boys sharing Tales from the Crypt. "Jack the Ripper was one."
"Whoa," Alex breathed out. "I don't want to be one of those. How do we know you're not like them?"
"Stop it, you two," Grace interrupted. "Jimmy, tell him the truth."
"I am," Jimmy protested. "It's all true. And I'm not like Jack the Ripper," he assured Alex.
"How come a bad guy like him isn't in hell?"
"It's all one and the same universe."
Alex almost bounced with indignation. "No way. That's not right. That's not fair!"
Jimmy's chuckle rang through the room and Grace was reminded of her own similar protestations earlier this evening. She still didn't understand, some part of her wanted there to be a righteous ending for people like Jack the Ripper and Lukas Redding. Or people who misuse their power over innocents, like Eve Warden. A painful, righteous ending.
"I'm told that there's no provision in creation to guarantee fair," Jimmy replied, his brogue thickening as if he were mimicking someone else. "But there is free will. And those who use their freedom to make wrong choices--"
"Like Jack the Ripper," Alex supplied.
"Like Jack the Ripper. And others," Jimmy added, his eyes staring into Grace's. "Ones who choose to harm, to squander their life, their hope." Grace wrinkled her nose at him, assuring Jimmy that his not so veiled reference to her thoughts of suicide hadn't gone unnoticed. "Those people don't just slide into the pond of the hereafter, gently separating, dissipating into eternity."
"What happens?" Alex asked, his hands scrunching the blanket into a tiny ball. "They get burned up, right? Wham, bam, shazamm! And they're gone, they can't ever come back again after. Right?"
Jimmy nodded, considering the boy's words. "Aye. Vaporized, atomized, vanquished, vanished--"
"Banished, smashed, crashed, squashed--" Alex joined in the litany of destruction. "Eroded, corroded, exploded, ka-pam!" He bounced his fist off the bed with the last, a look of glee on his face as if he alone were responsible for vanquishing all evil from the universe.
"Ka-pam!" Jimmy echoed.
Grace sat in silence, shaking her head at her two boys. Only men could consider this any kind of rational conversation to be carrying on at three in the morning. Of course, who was she to judge rational?
"So how did you make it back?" Alex persisted in his questioning. "Will I be able to do it?"
"I dunno. I came back under special circumstances. With the help of an old friend and Grace and the spring solstice, I have just one day left on this earth."
His words echoed through Grace's heart as if with each beat, she was losing him for good.
Alex's breath whistled out in a wheeze. She ran her fingers through his hair, re-adjusted the oxygen that had slipped away in his excitement. There wasn't much time left for either him or Jimmy. Hours for the one, days, maybe weeks at most for the other. And still they sat there, grinning and conniving, trying their best to outwit death.
As if it were a game. Her mouth tightened and she swallowed hard, then reached for Jimmy's hand once more.
"After all that trouble, that's all?" Alex sounded disappointed. "Only one day?"
"One day. Sunset to sunset. Then I'm gone--back to the void."
Grace shivered. "That's enough. No more talk of death or voids."
CHAPTER 31
Deal with the Devil
Vincent woke with the salty taste of leather in his mouth. He blinked, felt the grit of sandpaper beneath his eyelids, and blinked again. He was staring at a blood-red leather pillow. He opened his eyes fully, rolling over to better survey his circumstances.
And toppled to the plush carpeted floor. At which point he realized he was naked and that he wasn't alone.
Sounds of a woman singing off key could be heard over the rush of a shower. He rubbed his eyes, shrugged into a wrinkled, sweat-stained scrub top that he supposed was his, and scooped up the matching pants.
Eve. Although he'd never heard her sing before, it was easy to recognize the faint southern accent. And this was Eve's office. He leaned on the desk, searching below it for shoes, socks, any stray articles of clothing.
His head swam as he straightened once more. The room burst into a kaleidoscope of fragments. His stomach lurched, then settled down once his vision cleared. He licked his lips. Damn, he was thirsty. Parched.
His stomach rumbled. Hungry too. How could he be nauseated and starving at the same time?
He remembered dinner last night--surely he hadn't stayed after? He couldn't have, he was on call.
Nevertheless, here he was.
His body ached, in a pleasant way. Had he and Eve...No, not while he was on call--could he have? He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to remember. Tantalizing fragments teased his memory: a woman's laugh; breasts, thighs, hands stroking him; a woman on her knees, begging.
He stepped into his shoes, found further evidence of the night's debauchery in the scattered remnants of Eve's desktop paraphernalia. God, had he taken her on the desk? A whisper image of a woman on her knees, calling his name--the floor as well? And had she really done that for him, to him?
His head pounded as the random pictures flashed through his brain, a private porn video produced just for him.
Except he couldn't remember a damn thing. The feelings that came with the images weren't pleasurable. Rather shame, as if he'd betrayed someone.
He moved to the open bathroom door, heard the water stop. He stole a glance inside, trying not to feel embarrassed as he watched Eve step through the glass shower door, her back to him. Two mutually consenting adults, there was nothing to be embarrassed about.
Then he saw the bruises on her porcelain skin. Fresh bruises. Bite marks, hand prints, scratch marks.
Vincent backed away in horror. Had he done that to her? Why? How?
His gaze darted around the room, returned to his rumpled and disheveled appearance. What the hell had happened here last night?
Without a word to Eve, he turned and fled.
After a quick shower and changing into clean clothes, Vincent still had no answers but felt closer to normal. His head pounded every time he moved too fast and despite brushing his teeth twice, he couldn't escape the lingering taste of stale, acrid dried venison. A childhood treat he'd learned to despise with time.
Coffee. He needed coffee. He stumbled down the steps, the elevator was far too noisy and his stomach far too queasy, and approached the cafeteria. Then saw a familiar figure in a pair of rumpled scrubs.
Grace Moran. Heading toward the ethics committee meeting. Headache or not, he rushed forward to grab her by the arm. "What are you doing here?"
She narrowed her eyes at him, then turned and squared her shoulders as if willing him into oblivion.
"We need to talk," Vincent told her as he pulled her into a side corridor.
She allowed him to steer her, but from the steel bands of muscle tensing beneath his fingers he knew he couldn't keep her there if she didn't want to stay.
"What happened to your promise? You said you would wait for me in Alex's room."
She remained silent, merely staring at him with those disconcertingly blue eyes. Her expression made him wince, feel ashamed again--as if somehow she knew more about what he'd done last night than he did, as if he'd somehow betrayed her.
He tore his gaze away, spun on his heel to pace the confined space, from the janitor's closet to the main corridor and back, hands fisted in his pockets, head down until he came toe to toe with her once more. "I don't understand you. Why torture yourself for four years by clinging to the house your husband was killed in? You're a doctor, you of all people know that death happens and life goes on."
She jerked back, head raised high at his words. It wasn't the question he'd meant to ask, but it was the question he needed answered. Her gaze blazed into his, then softened a bit as if she realized that he wasn't condemning her actions but rather was desperate to understand, to learn.
"Life does go on," she said, her voice ringing clear through the small area. "People return to their routines, rejoin the world. Leave their grief behind. That's what's supposed to be healthy, right?"
"Of course."
"Not for me. I'd rather live alone with my memories of Jimmy--the good and the bad--than risk losing him forever. Risk waking up one day and not being able to remember his voice, the color his eyes change to when we make love, the touch of his hand--"
"So you've what? Made yourself a living shrine to a man dead and buried for years? What are you, Grace? A walking tombstone?" His words emerged sharper than he'd intended but he didn't care. He was sick and tired of hearing what a saint Jimmy Moran had been, how no one alive could measure up to the man.
"At least I fight for what I hold dear." Her glare almost forced him back, but he took a deep breath and held his ground. "Anyway, better that than to go back." Her voice dropped and her gaze tore away from his, darting around like a trapped animal seeking an escape route. "Go back out there. To the so-called real world."
Suddenly she seemed diminished, dwarfed by the fear that had consumed and ruled her these past four years. She sank back against the wall, hugged her arms to her chest like a little girl.
"Maybe I can't do this," she whispered, her gaze fixed on a spot between her feet. "Just forget that you found me, let me go."
He reached a hand out and gently stroked her hair away from her face. Her silent weeping resonated through his fingers.
"You're not afraid of losing Jimmy. You're afraid of living." He pulled her close for a long moment, his hand caressing her hair. "But that's life, Grace. The pain and the risk and the not knowing and the glorious hope that it will all work out in the end. You won't find any answers trapped behind the walls you've built."
She was silent. He knew it sounded weak. Hallmark sentiments versus the love of a lifetime. How could anyone compete with the legend she'd built Jimmy Moran into?
By her reasoning, no one would leave their nice warm beds in the morning and venture out into the cold, cruel world.
"What about Alex?" he tried another tact. Guilt. It always worked for his mother when she wanted to motivate Vincent. "He needs you to stay with him. You can't abandon him now."
She pushed back from his arms and snapped her head up to meet his eyes. "Why not? You did. He thought you cared enough about him to respect his choice."
"I do care. But he's just a kid--"
"He knows what he wants."
"No, he doesn't. Besides, there's still hope."
"Now who's living
in the fantasy world?"
He moved away from her, regained his balance. A bottomless chasm separated them. She tried to push past him, heading toward the conference room, but he blocked her path. "Helman is on the committee. If he sees you, he'll have you committed, force you to have the surgery."
"Maybe he won't recognize me."
"The man's been inside your brain, I think he'll recognize you."
Grace looked up at Vincent. "Could you--I know it's a lot to ask--"
He shook his head and would not meet her eyes. "Please, don't ask me to. I can't go in there and argue for them to let Alex die. Not while there's the slightest hope--I just can't do it."
"Vincent, it's what he wants, you know it is. He's been through so much pain. You would let him keep suffering?"
"Grace, we've had this argument before. You know how I feel. Alex is too young to make this decision himself. There are new drugs and treatments every day. I like the kid, I really do, but I can't let him throw his life away like this. Not when there's a chance I can save him."
"So your god complex overrules Alex's right to decide his own fate?"
"That's not fair and you know it."
"Fine. Whatever. I'm going to the Ethics Committee and you can't stop me."
"You won't let Helman operate on you for your own sake, but you'll give yourself up to him for a kid you didn't know until two days ago?" His voice took on an edge.
He trapped her against the wall, caged between his arms. Why couldn't she do this for him? See what she meant to him--a real man, not some imaginary ghost. "Would you do it for me? Have the surgery? Buy us some time to get to know each other better?"
Her brow creased into a frown and she looked away, giving him his answer. He sucked in his breath, gave it one last shot.
"I think I love you, Grace. God help me, I have no earthly idea how it happened or why, but I do." As soon as he said the words, heard them aloud, he realized how foolish they were.
"You don't love me. You love the idea of someone you can save." She raised her head, her eyes wide with defiance. "I don't need saving, Vincent. I know what I have to do. I don't need your help or your approval."