“How do I communicate with the living, Scarlett?” I gushed. “Deena’s aware of our presence. I need to get a message to her. Tell her I’m okay. She can then tell my family before I move on.”
Scarlett reached out and cupped the man’s buttocks. “Hmmm, tight as steel. See, this is what I meant when I said that you shouldn’t be so anxious to leave, Jolene. You can’t do this in Heaven. No sir, the best kind of pleasure is forbidden up there.”
“Forget sex for one minute, Scarlett. I need your help.”
She lifted a hand and smoothed back a tendril of bronze hair that had escaped the ponytail. “I heard you, Claiborne, but communicating with the living is strictly forbidden. The die has been cast. The writing is on the wall. Now let’s listen in on the conversation. This should be interesting.”
I started to protest, but Mama’s frightened words slammed into me. “You want us to do what? No. Tell him, Harland. We’re not pulling the plug.”
Deena’s face blanched. “Oh dear, God, this can’t be happening. Please say there’s some hope, Dr. Moore.”
Billie Jo broke down in tears, and Roddy tightened his arm around her. “We’re going home for a bit,” he said. “Billie Jo needs to rest, and I need to check up on Lynette.”
“Please don’t do anything yet,” Billie Jo said explosively. “Give Jolene time to come back to us. You don’t know her. She’s a survivor.”
Daddy enveloped her in his arms. “We’re not doin’ anythin’ before we get a second opinion, sweetie. Go home with your husband. You need to think about the baby now. We’ll call if there’s any change.”
Dr. Moore excused himself, and Roddy steered Billie Jo out of the ICU waiting room. Ryder turned to Deena. “Honey, let’s go home and change into more comfortable clothes. We need to swing by Jolene’s house and feed the cat. Plus, I need to check on my parents. Mother is still so weak. We’ll be back in an hour or two, I promise.”
“I’m staying here,” Deena protested in a broken voice. “I can’t leave her. Not yet.”
Daddy reached out and caught her hand in his. “Go on with your husband. You’re exhausted and need some rest. Your momma and I will be here. We’ll go home for a few hours after you and Ryder get back. We can take turns. All but Billie Jo. She needs to keep off her feet for the baby’s sake.”
“Good luck with that,” Mama muttered. “Billie Jo is stubborn just like Jolene. She’s gonna buck like a Mustang if we try to keep her away.”
A sudden tug on the silver thread had me hurling back to the tiny cubicle where my body lay connected to life-sustaining machines, and I stared in surprise at Preston who had pulled a chair beside my bed and was stroking my hand.
“I don’t know how to say goodbye,” he was saying. “I don’t want to say goodbye, Jolene. The doctors don’t have any hope for your recovery, but they don’t know you like I do. Fight, Jolene. Fight with everything you’ve got because it’s going to take a miracle to bring you back.”
I willed my hand to move in his, but it refused to obey. Repeatedly, I wished my body to flinch or twitch with life. Nothing.
Preston stood and leaned over the bed and kissed my cheek. “I’ll stop by later tonight and check on you before I go home. I saw your parents in the waiting room so I’ll check on them before I see my next patient.” After one last peck on the cheek, he left.
Scarlett joined me on the ceiling. “I think the end is coming soon. Don’t worry, you’ve been through the worst of it. The rest is a piece of cake. Trust me.”
Not encouraged by her words, and a little depressed at the thought of death, I drifted over to the bed and tried to slip back inside my body to no avail. “Why isn’t this working?” I asked Scarlett, frustrated at my failed attempts. “My body keeps spitting me out.”
She cocked her head to the side and appeared to be listening to something or someone. I heard nothing but a continuous ringing in my ears. Finally, she turned to me with a somber expression and said, “The Boss is on his way down here. This is bad, Claiborne. The Boss never leaves his post at the Pearly Gates. I warned you to stay out of Heaven’s business, but no, you had to go and interfere.” She flittered about the room like a drunk butterfly. “And not only you, Claiborne. Me. I’m on his shit list too.” She folded herself into a speck in the corner wall.
I only had time to grasp the back of my hospital gown closed before a shrill trumpet blast echoed through the glass-enclosed room, and a burst of brilliant angel wings filled the space. Sizzling cosmic energy filled me with Heaven’s fire, and I turned around to face The Boss.
Chapter Thirteen
Blue Suede Shoes
“Well, young lady, what do you have to say for yourself?”
I clutched the back of my gown tighter and smothered back a giggle as my gaze swept over the chubby florid-faced, elderly gentleman with fiery red hair and handlebar mustache. He wore a blue pin-striped suit with a high white collar and blue necktie. Naturally, I glanced down to check out his shoes, and let out an audible gasp at the sight of the most beautiful pair of blue suede shoes with silver buckles I’d ever seen.
My eyes traveled up the length of him to his smiling face. “Those shoes are to die for! I once had a pair of blue suede high heels.”
He quirked a brow. “I remember the incident well. You ruined them in a fight with an old man as I recall. Rode him like a bronc buster and received a broken nose for your effort. Yes, dried blood isn’t easily removed from suede.”
I flushed with embarrassment. “Theo had it coming when he punched Daddy. I couldn’t stand by and watch.”
Penetrating green eyes seemed to look into my soul. “You’re a regular busybody where your family is concerned. Your impulsiveness has landed you in trouble many times over the years, young lady.” A tablet materialized in his hands, and he skimmed down the screen with one finger. “Hmmm, yes, here you are. Jolene Tucker Claiborne.” His gaze lifted from the screen. “A habitual violator across the board.” He clicked his tongue several times like Mama used to do when one of us girls crossed the line of accepted feminine behavior. “And now this infraction. Very serious indeed, and I’m not sure the lesson I have in mind will keep you on the straight and narrow.”
Uncertain now, I shot a worried glance at Scarlett hugging the corner ceiling. Her face looked pinched, and waves of anxiety poured off her like water from a busted spicket.
“I wouldn’t count on her for any help,” the Boss said in a dry voice. “She’s been nothing but trouble since her arrival in the Golden City, and I’ve been entertaining the idea of drafting her into the Peace Corps. They’re short-staffed and spread thin, but I believe I have a better idea. Kill two birds with one stone, you might say.” He chuckled. “Yeah, this is going to be something to watch from above.” He crooked a finger at her. “Please join us, Miss Scarlett. And properly clothe yourself. Emissaries from Heaven must reflect purity and perfection. You know the rules!”
Back in her librarian duds, Scarlett drifted down from the corner ceiling to settle beside me, rebellion lined her face, and I doubted Heaven would ever put a bridle on her wild spirit. Scarlett was a true born and bred Southerner just like all the rest of us rednecks south of the Mason Dixon line. Like Daddy says, “You can’t tame the wind, just redirect it.”
He beamed at her. “That’s much better, my dear. For the duration of your stay here on Earth, you will remain in that approved attire. And don’t entertain the idea of pulling a fast one. I will be watching.”
In the background, a nurse entered my room with a fresh IV bag in hand. Ignorant of the heavenly invaders, she proceeded to replace the empty container with a full one.
The Boss continued in his dry tone, “I have decided, and the Council of Noble Purposes have approved my plan, that you, Jolene Claiborne, deserve a second chance at life. Although you’re headstrong and impulsive and love to dabble in sin, your intentions are good and honest, just misdirected. If you succeed in winning another chance in the physical realm, you must pro
mise to give up your promiscuous ways. Simply unacceptable. Every dog should have a few fleas, indeed.”
“You heard that?” My voice quivered with embarrassment and indignation. “Geez, isn’t anything private anymore?”
He was referring to the morning Mama had walked uninvited into my bedroom. In anticipation of a little bedroom fun with Preston, I was butt naked and spread out invitingly upon the bed. And then, well, Preston arrived with pistols shooting, and moments later, Bradford. Boy, was that a morning to remember! (I disclosed all the details in another story.)
The handlebar mustache quivered. “That is not up for discussion, young lady. I’m here to offer you a fair proposition. Accept it, or you’re off to Purgatory until your trial.”
Fair proposition? What was this—let’s make a deal? Choose door number one and win a chance to walk out of this hospital alive or door number two complete with iron bars and guards? My answer was swift. “Life or death. Geez, so many tough choices an almost dead girl must make.” I hope I didn’t sound defensive, but damn, this was a no-brainer.
Scarlett punched me in the ribs. “Don’t be a fool, girlfriend. Saint Peter is the Boss, and you never smart-talk the Boss. First lesson of Heaven.”
I gazed at her with complete understanding, nodded, and then addressed the Boss. “Ah, I apologize for my rash tongue, sir. It won’t happen again, I promise. And I accept your proposition.” I tried to look contrite. A first, believe me. I’m naturally rebellious and fidgety in stressful situations. And he was making me antsy.
He wagged an admonishing finger. “I haven’t proposed it yet, young lady.” He scrolled down his tablet. “Okay. As you know, Lilith, the wind spirit, has recently taken up residence here in Whiskey Creek under the guise of a lovely young woman.”
My gut bottomed out, but I nodded politely. “Yes, sir. She’s opening a beauty shop across the street from my salon. She’s a redhead, like you. Bossy, too.”
He looked pained at the comparison. “Completely irrelevant, young lady.” He pursed his lips with disapproval. “You must learn to hold your tongue if you wish to complete this task to my satisfaction. There is much at stake. Not only for you but for Whiskey Creek. This undertaking calls for discipline and courage.”
“Just what is it you want me to do?” I asked cautiously and pointed to my lifeless body on the bed. “I’m not exactly in tiptop shape, if you get my drift.”
“It won’t be easy.” His nod was empathic.
“It never is,” I reflected in a neutral tone.
“Love is your only defense.” He looked troubled.
“Love? What’s love got to do with it? What is it you want me to do?” I repeated, a tad irritated at the delay. Scarlett pinched me hard on my upper arm just like Mama. I pinched her back.
“Love conquers all,” he rumbled, his upturned handlebar mustache quivered like a bowl of jelly. “Hate cannot stand up to love. God is love. It is your only weapon against Lilith.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m not grasping the idea,” I told him. “Lilith is a fire-breathing she-demon with bad breath, and I’m gonna need more than love to drive her out of town. That is what you’re driving at, right? For me to get rid of Lilith? No, can do. Isn’t there something else because I’m fairly certain I’m not the loving type.”
Saint Pete shook his head. “Getting rid of Lilith is beyond your capabilities, young lady. That’s where Scarlett comes in. She was repeatedly warned to remain neutral where the list was concerned. She chose to ignore the rules, and instead passed along vital information which caused this present situation with you. So, as punishment for disobedience, she’s banished from Heaven until further notice. You two make a good team, so I’m sure this task will prove to be a simple one. Simply said, I want Lilith driven from my jurisdiction, and you two are going to see to her departure. You have seven days to work your magic. Understood?”
Not really having a choice, we both gave a perfunctorily nod.
z“Excellent. Now for the rules.” He cocked a bushy red eyebrow and eyed us both. Seemingly satisfied with our mutual acceptance, he cleared his throat, and from the inner pocket of his pin-striped suit, he withdrew a rolled piece of paper tied with a thin red ribbon. Unrolling it, he smoothed it out and handed it over to me. The list, printed in black calligraphy on yellow parchment, was entitled:
RULES OF ENEMY ENGAGEMENT IN THE PHYSICAL REALM
1. Keep to the shadows.
2. Avoid the public domain.
3. Do not consort with departed souls.
4. Avoid the living, especially psychics and
mediums.
5. Maintain acceptable language. No cussing or
slang words.
6. Work behind the scenes without making your
presence known.
7. Keep the commandments.
8. Practice the Golden Rule.
9. Make every effort not to upset earthly creatures.
Cats are the exception.
10. Do not engage in any sexual activities with
humans.
I scanned it a second time, then handed it over to Scarlett to study. I had a few questions and demands of my own for Saint Pete. I picked up the silver thread attached to my side and asked, “Do I have to lug this thing around everywhere I go?”
“I’m afraid so. Your body and soul must stay attached. Lose that, and your earthly body dies.”
Check. Protect silver thread lifeline at all cost.
“I would like a change of clothes.” I was polite but firm. “This ensemble doesn’t offer much protection against the elements. I’m sure you would agree with me that it isn’t very heavenly for my backside to be exposed, and I can hardly complete my task to your satisfaction with one hand.” I flashed my one free hand. “And a pair of shoes, please,” I added for effect. “Oh, and one more thing, one of those big swords of light the angels carry would surely help us out.”
He studied me intently. “I can see where your present state of undress might cause problems, so I believe appropriate attire is in order.” He snapped his fingers, and I was instantly clothed in a floor-length, shimmering gown of white with matching slippers.
“Uh, this is nice, but not what I had in mind, thank you,” I said amiably. “It’s okay where you come from, but here in the South we prefer a good pair of sturdy jeans, a flannel shirt, and snake-proof boots.”
“Since when?” Scarlett piped up in a snide voice beside me. “I’ve never seen you in anything but heels. Including boots. And you and I both know that you wouldn’t be caught dead in snake-proof boots.”
“That’s right, I wouldn’t, but I’m not dead yet, so I’ll take the chance with the boots. I aim to win this battle, and I can’t do it in heels.” I raked my eyes down her priggish attire. “Or in that silly getup.”
“I agree.” Saint Pete snapped his fingers, and Scarlett and I were twin models for Bass Pro Shops. Snake-proof boots and all. Even my frizzy hair was twisted into a tidy knot at the back of my neck. Neat.
I patted my denim-covered bottom. “Wow, thanks, Saint Pete. This is warm and comfy. Right, Scarlett?”
Her stormy gaze swept down her body. “Thanks to you, I don’t seem to have a voice in this matter, Claiborne. You might be surprised to learn that there is a limit to my sartorial sacrifice. Even for you.”
Saint Pete hit the off button on his tablet. “Well, I believe I’ve covered everything. You both know the rules.” He pointed a finger heavenward. “Remember I’ll be watching.”
“Wait!” I held up a hand to stop him. “What about my sword?”
“Denied. You’re not licensed to carry.” Again, another loud trumpet blasted, and he was gone.
I turned to Scarlett. “Okay, the first thing we have to do is establish our headquarters.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “What’s wrong with this place?”
“Well, for one thing, there’s too much traffic.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, another nurse pushed throu
gh the glass doors.
A smile cracked the corner of her full lips. “I know just the place.”
I gave a nod of approval. “Where else but Dixieland Salon?”
Chapter Fourteen
Shake, Rattle and Roll
Being almost dead has many perks. The first, being able to soar through the night sky like an eagle. The second, being able to waltz through walls and dive through ceilings without a peep of sound. The flight over from the hospital was a blast. Against the midnight sky, a full moon casts an incandescent glow over the sleeping town, and millions of twinkling stars flung out across the horizon like pebbles hurled by a mighty hand.
Innocent joy exploded through me as I zipped past Scarlett over city hall, the silver thread trailing behind me like an airplane contrail. “I’ll race you to the salon,” I yelled as I did several acrobatic loop-de-loops and plunged into a deep dive toward Main Street.
“Woo-wee.” I skimmed along the pavement with my arms spread wide. Ahead of me, nestled among other small boutiques and cafés on Love Avenue, was Dixieland Salon, and I zoomed past with a joyful twist and looped around the building and dropped through the ceiling into the facial room.
Scarlett lounged back on the flower print chintz loveseat with lovely matching pillows. She shielded a yawn with the back of her hand. “I took a shortcut through the cemetery. Now, if you would be so kind as to settle down, I need my beauty sleep.”
“Sleep?” I asked incredulously. “My life hangs in the balance, and you want to sleep?” I kicked the loveseat. “Get up. We need to put together a plan.”
“I plan to sleep like the dead.” She closed her eyes and released a heavy sigh.
Seeing I was on my own until morning, and too keyed up to remain still, I drifted out the door and into the hallway and down to the reception area where I drifted from station to station, allowing the familiar to comfort me. At my station, I plopped down on my black leatherette chair and stared into the large mirror as I’d done hundreds of times before.
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