by Gina Ardito
Now, Isabelle’s face appeared on the screen, singing The Itsy Bitsy Spider. In the back seat, an infant—no more than six months old—gurgled. Ava. Sean drank in his first view of his daughter: blond hair, big blue eyes, and rosy cheeks.
“Pause.”
At Verity’s pronouncement, Sean offered her a grateful smile. She must have stopped the scene so he might have more time to stare at his beautiful baby girl. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet, Sean.” She left her seat and gestured for him to follow her to the dais.
As they ascended the staircase on the side of the stage, the audience rose to their feet, applauding madly. A standing ovation? For him?
Once she stopped to the left of the massive screen—his daughter’s smiling face at least thirty feet wide and equally high from this vantage point—Verity raised her hands, palms down, to signal everyone back into their seats. When they obliged, she spoke again. “Before we continue with the viewing of Isabelle’s day, the Board has agreed to grant her Probation Officer, Sean Martino, one request.” She turned to him. “Now is your opportunity to make your request known to the Elder Council and…” She swept an arm around the room, encompassing the audience. “…the Board.”
This huge crowd was the Board? He never would have guessed. He’d always thought of the Board as a single entity—like God or Buddha or even Zeus. Luc, on the other hand, used to joke that, with their luck, the Board was actually a giant panda who did nothing but munch leaves all the time. Turned out they were both wrong.
“Sean?” she prompted.
He opened his mouth to speak, but a ruckus from the back of the room caught his attention, and he stared in that direction. Pounding exploded from the auditorium doors. No one else seemed to notice or care. All eyes remained riveted to him.
“Sean?” Verity repeated. “Your request?”
He’d practiced his speech in his head at least a thousand times, and the words flowed from his lips as well as his heart. “I respectfully request that I be allowed to give my life for Isabelle Fichetti’s.”
The auditorium doors burst open, letting in a stream of white light and Xavia, who screamed, “Noooooo!” as she raced down the aisle toward the dais with Contel right behind her.
At last, all heads turned to watch the disturbance.
“Sean,” she shouted. “Don’t. It’s a trick. Don’t say anything more.”
He stared at her, aghast, and shook his head then pointed at the image on the screen. “It’s not a trick. Look. That’s my baby girl up there. Isn’t she beautiful?”
She didn’t bother to make her way toward the stairs, remaining in the pit where she gripped the edge of the stage and looked up at him. “They stopped the footage there for a reason, Sean. Sixty seconds from now, a tractor-trailer is going to ram into Isabelle’s car. I think she might already be dead.”
Dead? God, no! Panic shook him. It couldn’t be true. He swerved his attention to Verity, but her face remained impassive. Had she purposely paused the images on the screen, not for him to get a closer look at his child, but so he wouldn’t see what was about to occur?
Could Isabelle be dead? Would the Elders put him through this only to tell him he was too late, as some great cosmic joke? Or was this supposed to be the ultimate test for him? Pass, and gain his heart’s desire. Fail, and everything he loved was torn to shreds. The scenario could go either way. And he had no method to discern truth from lies.
What if Isabelle’s life currently hung in the balance? Simple. If she was still alive, it was up to him now to tip the scales in Isabelle’s favor. But what if she was already dead? Would he still “waste” his once-in-eternity opportunity?
It was a chance he’d have to take.
He offered Xavia a shrug and a somber smile. “All the more reason for me to make my request now.” Ignoring her sharp gasp in reply, he straightened to face the audience again. “I respectfully request that I be allowed to give my life for Isabelle Fichetti. Allow her to live until long after our child is grown, and I will serve whatever sentence the Board sees fit to pass down upon me.” Finished with his prepared speech, he waited.
Silence greeted his offer, but he stiffened his spine, locked his jaw, and continued to wait. He would accept nothing less than a free pass for Isabelle.
“This is your final request?” Verity asked.
He started to nod when a sudden thought struck him and he blurted, “One more thing. Grant Justin Penn and Anthony Francona a child of their own and a long and happy life together.” Satisfied now that he’d covered all Isabelle’s possible concerns, he stepped back, head bowed, hands clasped behind his back, and waited for the Board’s yea or nay.
“No.” Xavia sank to her knees, weeping, and Contel stepped forward to gather her in his arms.
“It’s okay, Mom. It’s gonna be okay.”
Mom. Contel called Xavia, “Mom.” Sean’s heart filled with light. He’d done that, brought those two together, mended two broken people. Now, he’d mend two more. This was good. This was what he was meant for.
“You are willing to serve in whatever capacity the Board asks of you?” Verity asked. “No matter how dire?”
Dire. So he’d be sentenced to the Chasm, after all. From the moment he first landed there to collect the remains of Luc and Jodie, he’d always known, eventually, his fate was to become as they wound up: pink glitter scattered all over that stark and dismal ground. A fireball of dread rose up from his gut, but he swallowed hard before nodding. For Isabelle. He would do this for Isabelle. He would willingly destroy himself so that she might live. If only he could be certain she was still alive.
“For as long as the Board deems necessary?” Verity continued.
Another nod.
“Very well. Step forward, Sean Martino.”
He took two steps toward the edge of the stage and forced himself to remain calm. For Isabelle, he reminded himself. And for Ava. He cast a sideways glance at the blown-up image of his little girl on the screen. The sheer size and his proximity blurred her features to pixelated dots, but he memorized every scintilla nonetheless. His baby girl. If she remained with her mother, the best part of him would live on long after the Chasm had done its worst.
“I’m ready,” he said and, closing his eyes, inhaled a deep breath.
“Be gone then,” Verity announced.
He heard a sharp scream—Xavia, he imagined—and he reached out a hand to tell her he was fine with this unholy bargain. He’d made his choice and wouldn’t back down now. Before he could tell her what was in his heart, or even say goodbye, his cells spun into vapor, carried by the air.
The last words that reached him before he transformed fully came from Verity. “Come along, Xavia. You and Contel will sit beside me and watch the rest of Isabelle’s day on Earth.”
After that, Sean Martino was gone from the auditorium.
His essence hurled through time and space, an asteroid on a collision course, bound for whatever punishment the Board had devised him to pay for Isabelle’s sake. He landed, on his feet, to heat and brightness. And the scream of sirens. Funny. He remembered the Chasm as a place of mournful moans and grayness. Not this sunny light and noise. He opened his eyes.
Before him, a red convertible sat crunched into the front grill of a tractor-trailer. A baby’s cries pricked his ears. Ava! He raced to the totaled car and vaulted past the shattered glass of the smashed window to reach inside. Ava, strapped in her car seat in the rear, red-faced, screamed at full lung capacity. It was the sweetest sound Sean had ever heard. She was alive. He still had time to save her.
He slid into the car’s interior and sat beside the car seat, struggling with shaky hands to release the latch that kept her restrained.
“Here, Lieutenant,” a voice shouted from outside the car. “Give the kid to me. Then get to the driver.”
Lieutenant? No time to consider the odd title. A pair of arms, clothed in a police uniform reached inside to take Ava. After several m
ore minutes of fumbling, a quick click told him he’d managed to unlock the car seat. “Okay, Ava,” he crooned. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be fine.”
He pulled his daughter out of the seat and traced a finger across her tear-stained face. His daughter. Ava Rose Martino. What a beauty she would grow up to become. She seemed to recognize him, and her perfect lips turned upward into a smile.
“Lieutenant?” the voice outside came again.
“Got her!” he announced. Thrusting her into the waiting arms, he turned his attention to the front of the car.
Behind the steering wheel, a large white bag enshrouded the driver’s face. Isabelle! Heart thumping at a crazy pace, he climbed over the console to get to her. With gentle pressure, he pushed her out of the steering wheel’s air bag and toward the seat. Her hair curtained her face, but he immediately caught sight of the slight rise and fall of her chest. She breathed!
“Isabelle, can you hear me?”
No reply.
“Lieutenant Martino?” The outside voice came again. “How’s the driver?”
“Alive,” he called back.
“And damn lucky,” the voice rejoined.
“Let’s hope so,” Sean murmured. “Can you get any of the doors open?” he asked his assistant outside the vehicle.
“Front passenger’s the least warped,” came the reply. “If you kick from the inside and I pull from the outside, we’ve got a shot.”
“Let’s do it. On three.” Bracing himself against the center console, he tightened his muscles. “Ready? One, two, three!” On three, he propelled all his weight into his legs and shoved. A chink of light appeared as the door gave slightly. “Again.”
They repeated the procedure four times before he had enough of an opening to drag Isabelle out of the wreckage. “Okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you. Let’s go.” After unbuckling her seat belt, he grabbed her under her arms and pulled. Once he’d freed her from the driver’s seat, he gathered her close and inched his way backwards from what was left of the demolished convertible.
Outside, a stretcher waited with a medical team. “Set her there, officer,” a woman at the head of the stretcher directed. “We’ll take it from here.”
After placing Isabelle onto the stretcher, Sean straightened to review the scene. Dozens of police cars, lights flashing, cordoned off the palm-tree-lined road. Two ambulances stood nearby, back doors open. A team of EMTs tended to the truck driver who, from the look of him, had a broken nose and possibly, a shattered knee. A tall, lanky man wearing latex gloves examined the still-screaming Ava.
What the hell was happening to him? This wasn’t the Chasm. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear he was in Malibu. With Ava and Isabelle. Was this a dream? Or some kind of bizarre punishment where, while he watched, the scene would change and everything he’d just accomplished would be revealed as some kind of alternate reality? He had to be sure what he experienced was real.
The dark-haired woman was checking Isabelle’s vitals, and a beefy uniformed policeman grinned at Sean as he approached.
“You know, sir, you didn’t have to dive into the car and play super-cop. We had a team here ready to cut them out, if necessary.”
“Didn’t want to take a chance,” he replied and returned his attention to Isabelle.
As if sensing his scrutiny, she opened her eyes. She blinked several times, regaining focus. When she finally managed to speak, she cried out, “Ava!”
“Easy, ma’am,” the tall EMT said from near the first ambulance. “I’ve got her here, and she’s just fine. Not a scratch on her.”
“Oh, thank God,” Isabelle said on a long exhale of breath. “Can I see her, please?”
The man brought the baby forward, but the female EMT held out a hand. “Just show her the baby. I’m not done with my exam yet.”
Sean thrust out his arms. “I’ll take her,” he said.
For the second time, he held his daughter, noted her flawless skin, her bright blue eyes, the blond hair caught up in a tiny pink barrette shaped like a bow. He cradled her close, inhaling her baby powder scent, and turned his gaze heavenward, waiting for the scene to change.
When he didn’t immediately feel himself yanked away, when everything remained the same, he dared to kiss the infant’s cheek. Her life pulsed through his lips, strong and steady.
Then he bent toward the stretcher’s occupant, his arm still holding his daughter close to his heart. “Hey, Belle,” he said softly and held Ava up for her to see.
She looked into his face, eyes wide with shock. “Sean?”
When she struggled to rise, the woman’s hands pressed her shoulders back into the stretcher. “Ma’am, I’m gonna have to ask you to stay still until I’m done checking for injuries.”
Although she submitted to the woman’s demands, Isabelle’s gaze remained firmly locked on Sean. “Am I…dead?”
He bent closer, pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Electricity zinged between them. “I don’t think so. I think…I’m very much alive.”
“Sure you’re alive, Lieutenant,” the police officer barked from above him. “You’re alive, I’m alive, we’re all alive, and it’s another beautiful day in sunny California.”
Sean swerved to stare at the man before declaring, “Go help with crowd control while I take the lady’s statement.”
“Yes, sir.” The police officer dashed off.
“It’s amazing,” the woman EMT announced as she backed away from the stretcher. “You’re completely unharmed. This is your lucky day, ma’am. You and your baby. You guys oughta buy a lottery ticket.” On those words, she strode away, leaving Sean alone with Isabelle.
“Alive?” Isabel whispered. “How is that possible?”
“The Board doesn’t just deal with death, you know.”
“But, I don’t understand. You’re real? This isn’t a dream?”
“I’m real. And apparently, I’m a lieutenant with the local police department.” He jerked his head toward where the other officer was setting up traffic cones on the shoulder of the highway. “I’m guessing he works for me.”
One eyebrow arched in doubt. “For how long? If I fall asleep, will you still be here when I wake up? Or are you going to stick around long enough for Ava and me to get used to having you and then one day, poof! You’re gone, and we’re the only ones who ever knew you existed.”
He had no ready answer to that question. This entire situation was as new to him as it was to her. “I have no idea.”
Sitting up, Isabelle sighed. “Then we’ll have to take what we’ve been given for as long as we have it. I’m glad you got to hold Ava and see her for yourself. What do you think of your daughter?”
He glanced at the infant in his arms then back at Isabelle. “I think, next to her mother, she’s the most beautiful girl in the world. And...” He took a deep breath, partly for courage, but also to absorb as much of these two females as he could into his memory for the moment they were ripped away from him. “I love you, Isabelle. I wanted you to know that.” He didn’t add the just in case part of his speech. Why ruin a perfect moment with impending doom?
Isabelle beamed. “I love you.” She snuggled against him, filling the parts of him he’d always thought empty. “Now and always. No matter what happens, I’m yours for as long as we have together.”
He pulled her closer, absorbing the love she radiated, sending his own love back to her in waves. With both his girls in his arms, Sean felt an odd phenomenon: his heartbeat. A real heart, pounding inside his chest. For this perfect moment in time, he was human. He was blissful. He was complete.
A soft glow of light enveloped the three of them, and the world disappeared. Slowly, the light took shape into the form of Verity, who floated toward them.
Sean stiffened. Here it came. The moment where he’d lose everything he held dear.
“No, Sean,” Verity said, her hands upheld to stop the bitter thoughts running through his mind. “I’m not here to take you back to the Afterli
fe. All of this is yours now. You’ve earned it. You both have.”
Suspicion still lingered in the deepest recesses of his soul. Could he believe in what his Elder Counselor proclaimed? Or was this a trick? The ultimate test of his love and loyalty? “How do I know this is for real? I mean, you say I earned this. How?”
“The purest sacrifices are for love’s sake,” Verity replied with a blinding smile, “and you have proven your love in so many different ways. You sought and gave forgiveness to those who might have held you in contempt for your actions in the past. By doing so, you not only gained their forgiveness, you brought Xavia and her son together again. When you were given the opportunity to gain the Board’s favor, you thought of others before yourself. Isabelle’s happiness was more important to you than your own comfort. You even included her friends’ needs in your request, knowing Isabelle’s happiness was directly linked to the happiness of Justin Penn and Anthony Francona.”
A kernel of doubt wedged inside his new, pounding heart. “Xavia,” he prompted. “What’s going to happen to Xavia?”
“She and Contel will remain in the Afterlife for now. They have...issues...they need to work out. But it’s because of you they have the opportunity to do so.”
Issues. Yeah, he knew first-hand about some of those issues, issues he’d overcome, thanks to Isabelle. “You planned all this, didn’t you?” he accused Verity. “My working with Isabelle, the unusual communication link between us, even the birth of our daughter. This was all you and the Board meddling, right?”
The Elder’s perfect aquiline nose crinkled, quirking one side of her smile. “Yes and no. We cannot foresee the future or force anyone to do our bidding. We offer our charges opportunities. How each of you uses the opportunities you’re given is your choice. You and Isabelle made the choices we hoped you would. In doing so, you’ve arrived at this moment. I’m proud of you, Sean. We all are.”
“Does that mean I won’t be going to the Chasm?”