I looked at the doorway. The dog Jake appeared, tail wagging and growing less spectral as he made his way to his master. Jake propped his head on the edge of the bed and whined.
“Has he come to visit you again, Dad?” the daughter asked, trying to smile as she patted her father’s arm. It was the same placating pat and smile we’d given Gram when she’d sworn she saw her parents waving to her, beckoning her to follow them. How little we knew then that it wasn’t the morphine. Gram had been telling us the truth.
Mr. Manero’s family couldn’t see Jake and Mr. Manero didn’t answer his daughter’s question. Instead, with great effort, he turned his head toward his family. He tried to move his hand to take theirs. His mouth worked, but nothing came out.
His wife and daughter gently took his hand into theirs.
His daughter wiped away a tear. “We love you, too.”
“Now rest, Dear. Rest,” his wife said.
Tears streamed down their cheeks. They’d given him permission, although it clearly took everything they had to do it.
Mr. Manero’s eyes found mine. I’m ready, I heard him say in my head. I’m ready, young lady. Jake, buddy? Lead the way home.
Jake placed a paw on the edge of the bed.
Mr. Manero shuddered.
“Now,” Banning whispered.
“Don’t be afraid, Mr. Manero,” I said. “Take my hand.”
I’m not afraid, miss. But, I’ve something to say, I heard in my head. Give me strength, my angel of mercy. Give me strength.
Banning reached over and touched Mr. Manero’s leg. The simple gesture must have given him the strength he needed. His face no longer appeared tortured. He turned his head a final time toward his family, speaking almost perfectly. His voice raspy, but coherent. “Take care, pretty ladies. See you later.”
He sighed long and slow as he looked back at me, expectantly.
Now what? I heard him say.
I thought of myself as an old woman, waiting for the reaper to come for me. “May I have this dance?” I asked, sliding my hand into his.
Mr. Manero tightened his hand around mine. With one last breath, his soul slipped from his body while his family wept.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Jordan woke early that Friday, her quiet sobs stirring me from a dreamless sleep. We’d slept in my room since Jordan’s was taken. Aunt Jen had decided to stay and help Mom and Dad get ready for my funeral. No one had wanted to sleep in my room and it had remained a shrine, a place where relatives popped in one by one last night to say their personal goodbyes. Mom had given a few of my things to family as keepsakes, but otherwise everything stayed as I had left it.
I pulled my sister close and we held each other as we cried.
“Different schools,” I whispered in her ear.
“My school’s better than yours,” Jordan replied, her voice quivering.
“My school’s cooler, though.” We both laughed to hide our tears.
We dressed, each choosing clothes from the other one’s closet. I tried on two or three of Jordan’s outfits, standing in front of the mirror while Jordan gave her opinion on which black pullover sweater of hers looked best.
“You need a leather coat,” Jordan said. “You can’t be a reaper without a cool coat.”
“Think it’ll have a scythe in it?” I inquired.
Jordan smiled, but pretended to mull this over for a moment. “You can’t even run with scissors and you want a scythe?” she joked.
“Careful, or they’ll never give you a halo.” In an odd way, laughter helped to keep some of the sadness from consuming us. It would, if we let it. Despair was a demon of its own.
Jordan shrugged. “It’d probably rust. But, you look good in black. Especially with your eyes. They’re really awesome, Keely.”
I looked in the mirror again. It was hard not to notice them. The mossy green eyes I’d had when I’d been alive were now more emerald than I’d expected, offset by a line of black around the irises. My dark hair made them stand out even more. But Jordan was right—they were more than awesome. They were six shades of awesome. Maybe Banning was right—I could do some good this way, maybe even right a few of my wrongs.
We kissed our parents on the way out the door. Mom and Aunt Jen were in the kitchen, putting coffee cups and spoons in the dishwasher. Everyone kept offering to do things for Mom, but she shrugged them off, claiming she needed to stay busy. Dad pretended to sip the last of his cold coffee as he watched a hummingbird drink from a feeder in the backyard. I wondered if he saw it the way I had that morning, if the sun shined a bit too brightly for his liking. Life had changed. For all of us.
The air felt cooler this morning than it had been all week. We waited outside, giving my family time to get into their cars. Banning, and Daniel were traveling by their own methods and would meet us at the cemetery. Jordan and I rode in Aunt Jen’s minivan, along with Mom, Dad, Grampa Wayne, and Uncle Frank. I could have gone the way Daniel and Banning had, but Banning hadn’t taught me how yet, and I wanted to be with Jordan, who was still stuck traveling by earthbound methods. It’d be her last time.
Mom didn’t cry the whole way there, but started weeping once we reached the cemetery. Dad did his best to console her. Next to me, Jordan stared helplessly at them, too. We clutched each other’s hands and shared weak smiles meant to assure the other that our parents were made of strong stuff and would get through this.
We followed everyone to where my casket sat above my final resting place. A green tent covered the site and a row of chairs lined the graveside. The funeral director ushered Mom, Dad, Grampa, and a couple of the other, older relatives to the front row.
I was glad it wasn’t the wet, dreary funeral I’d dreaded. It was a crisp, mostly sunny day with white, billowy clouds stretching across the sky. Ground fog rested in small wisps in the shadiest of areas. Tree leaves glittered gold and red in the morning sun.
Banning, Daniel, Jordan, and I stood several yards away from the crowd under a canopy of trees, careful to keep a safe distance from the living.
We watched as family and friends collected around my grave. My parents wore the same clothes they’d worn for Jordan’s funeral. They looked older now, as though ten years had passed instead of just a few months. Grandpa Wayne, Uncle Frank, Aunt Jen and her husband, Bill, huddled next to them. Uncle Lou stood behind with his wife, Becky, and our three cousins. Behind them stood a dozen or so friends of the family and a few members of Dad’s office.
All my friends were there, too. I never realized how many friends I really had. They lined the entire back row. Gina was crying, her head buried in the crook of Miles’ shoulder. I felt a slight pang of jealousy though I knew there was nothing between them. Miles had never worn a suit before. I stared. He was as handsome as I’d ever seen him, even with the frown on his face and his eyebrows pinched together.
I signed to Miles. I’m right here.
“He loves you, too,” Jordan said, making me smile. It wasn’t a happy smile—more of a longing one. I’d miss Miles so much. Jordan brushed my arm in sympathy. There were times I found it annoying the way Jordan could tell what I was thinking, but this wasn’t one of them. Our lives had been altered forever, but the way we understood each other hadn’t. Not even death could do that. Kind of like the feelings I carried for Miles. We’d always be a part of each other and carry a special place in each other’s hearts.
You are in death as you are in life.
No, that wasn’t entirely true. Even in death, some things change. And that was a good thing. At least I hoped to make it that way. A funeral for a suicide victim who thought she couldn’t deal with life seemed an odd place to become an optimist. If I’d been Daniel, I would have found a way to make a joke out of it. As much as he’d irked me in the past, I’d become accustomed to it and accepted that it was his way of dealing with the afterlife. I glanced at Daniel who was still staring at Miles.
In the end, becoming a reaper wasn’t such a hard decision
. Unlike the myriad of choices I had while living, there were only four in the afterlife: angel, demon, reaper, earthbound. As unsure I was of the afterlife and what it held, this was the way I could make the biggest difference. I’d like to think I’d have done something important with my life when I was alive, but I no longer existed in that world.
Sure, the future wouldn’t be easy. But, being that I was dead and eternity had another meaning now, the future seemed like a pointless thing to worry about. Like the morning at the bird feeder, tomorrow would happen no matter what. And, I would see Jordan again. Things would always be different, and when I got used to them not being different, I hoped someone would do for me what I had done for Banning. I couldn't undo the night when I’d taken my life. All I could do now was hope I’d make good choices going forward.
Mom broke down and Dad hugged her, his shoulders quaked as he cried, too.
“They look really bad,” I said.
Jordan took my hand and squeezed it tightly.
“They’ll do all right, Sunshine,” Daniel assured me. “If they’re anything like you two, they’ll get through this.”
Jordan forced a broken laugh. “A reaper called Sunshine.”
My casket was exactly like Jordan’s—dark mahogany with a beautiful spray of white and red roses on it. I read Jordan’s headstone: Jordan Elizabeth Morrison. Like hers, my headstone was dark gray. The name Keely Anne Morrison was etched across the front. Our birth dates were the same. Only the dates of our deaths were different.
The minister, a man I’d never met before, stood before the forty-plus people who’d gathered to bid me farewell. Mom blew her nose as Dad took a deep, shuddering breath. The minister addressed everyone and then flipped through his copy of the Bible. Everyone grew quiet as a slight breeze drifted across the cemetery. I caught sight of a flock of small birds darting and twirling through the air before they came to rest in a tall sugar maple nearby.
All eyes were on the minister. He looked at the teary-eyed, solemn crowd gathered before him. He cleared his throat and began. “Keely is with her sister now, and, from what I’m told, they’re telling secrets as sisters often do, and they’re holding hands as twins often do. Although we’re sorry to see Keely leave us, she is not alone. She has found comfort in the love of those on the other side, for love transcends death.”
More tiny birds flittered across the skyline before nestling into the branches of nearby trees. The melody of a few song sparrows filtered through the breeze and I remembered what Daniel said about angels and sparrows.
Jordan saw the sparrows, too. “Are you going to be okay?” she asked. “That’s all I want to know, Keely. I— I just want to know if you’ll be—”
“Okay,” I finished. It’s all I ever wanted to know about her from the moment she died. I hugged her. “I’ll be fine.”
The minister’s eulogy boomed across the cemetery, “Keely’s soul is her pilot now. It has led her to her new destination. She has heard another calling.”
A lone sparrow’s song echoed on the breeze. Gram appeared near a slant of light beaming between the trees close to where my parents stood. I smiled as she kissed them on the cheek and whispered into my mother’s ear. For a moment, both my parents looked up, as though looking for someone.
Jordan’s grip on my hand tightened. “It’s time for me to crossover.”
“Don’t be afraid,” I said.
Jordan turned and clung to me for a moment and I choked back a sob.
“Don’t you cry,” I said, clearly crying myself. “We’ll be fine. It’s just like going to different out-of-state colleges, remember?”
“Who’s going to Northwestern and who’s going to Ohio State?” she asked, her voice quivering.
“Dibs on purple and black, Buckeye,” I kidded, wiping away tears that clouded my vision.
“Yeah. You’ll see each other at all the rallies,” Daniel offered in his usual dead humor candor. “Ohio State? You do know they wear red, right Jo?”
“Red’s not all bad,” Jordan replied, giving him a gentle nudge.
Gram smiled as she approached, and drew me lovingly into her arms. “I love you, Keely. Don’t worry. We’ll see you soon.”
“I love you, too Gram,” I said.
“Jordan, it’s time,” Gram said softly. Jordan stepped closer to Gram. Gram hugged her, too, then turned to look at Banning.
“I’ll take care of her,” Banning promised.
Gram smiled warmly and nodded. “I know,” she said.
Jordan bit her lip. “Keep her out of trouble.” She took Gram’s hand and they walked toward silvery ribbons of light streaming in through the trees.
Ribbons. Pretty ribbons.
I almost called Jordan back. I wanted to tell her heaven could wait a little while longer. The ground fog swirled at their feet as the sparrows twittered softly.
Jordan smiled. Her eyes began to sparkle like newly fallen snow. “So...beautiful, Keely. The light. It’s...” her words failed her. How beautiful she was! It was all I needed to see. In my heart, I knew she’d be okay. But the knowledge didn’t stop my sorrow. I’d miss her so much.
Before she could read my thoughts, read my expression, I forced a smile. “Close your eyes, Jordan. Don’t look back. I’ll see you soon, okay? I’ll be fine. I promise.”
Soon, at least in the afterlife, was relative. I could see Jordan next week, or not until next year. I hoped we wouldn’t be separated any longer than that.
Tell me about heaven...
Jordan did as I’d asked, squeezing her eyelids together tightly. She bit her lip again—Jordan’s way of pushing me from her thoughts while trying not to cry. Slowly, her face, her body, her entire soul lit with an amazing brightness. Jordan waved as she and Gram began to sparkle and fade. The sparrows took to the skies.
And then, Jordan was gone.
As I stood there in the breeze, in the absence of my other self, I understood there were lessons I still needed to learn. I knew this with such force, such clarity. I had a lot to learn about the afterlife, and I had to accept that my past and present would never again be the same. But, the hardest lesson of all? That there would always be people in my world who I loved beyond everything else, people I couldn’t live without, but had to let go of.
For now.
“It’ll be okay, Keely,” Banning said, hoping to reassure me. He sighed. “Well, no, not really, will it? But it’ll be as okay as it gets.”
“Hell,” Daniel said.
We both stared at him.
“Well, of course it’ll be okay. She’s got us,” he clarified.
The minister flipped to another page. “Please join me in Psalm 23.” Everyone stood and bowed their heads.
I followed along with those who’d come to say their final goodbyes, except I changed the psalm ever so slightly.
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. For they are with me.”
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Books are hard to write, and some more than others. Don’t Fear the Reaper was certainly that book for me. Loss is a difficult thing to express and everyone’s grief is different. While this book is dedicated to my sister, I also acknowledge that I couldn’t have done it without the memories of those I love dearly and yet, had to let go of—for now. I think about them everyday.
To my husband, who is my own personal Samson. Thanks for seeing me through the rough spots.
Thanks to my critique partners who read and reread this book: D.B. Reynolds, Leslie Tentler, and Steve McHugh. What would I ever do without you guys?
Thanks to Danielle (Danni) La Paglia, who always has faith in what I write.
Many thanks to my fellow writers over at Kelly Armstrong’s On-line Writing Group (the OWG) who read and critiqued the first few chapters of this book.
Special thanks also go to gifted book designer and fellow author Sam Torode. What can I say about the cover except - WOW! You’re truly amazing, Sam. Thank you once a
gain.
Speaking of the cover, the original design, Raven Soul, is a work of art by the talented Claudia McKinney over at PhatPuppy Art.
And, as always, thank you, Dear Reader. Because ultimately, every author with a story to tell writes with you in mind.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
Acknowledgments
Don't Fear the Reaper Page 23