Pieces of Hope

by Carter, Carolyn

  Rin hesitated. Her response was less than believable. “Sure, not a problem.” Then she sniffed the air as if it were a pleasurable experience. “Truth is, your smell does make it harder to concentrate. You smell positively delicious, Hope.”

  “So I’ve heard.” I tried to sound casual, as if people told me that all the time.

  “You have to be careful about—” Rin began. But Charlotte kicked her in the shin and she stopped talking long enough to yell—“Ow! What’d you do that for?”

  Following a brief stare-down with Rin, during which time I was certain a deep conversation was taking place, Charlotte turned to me.

  “What Rin means to say is, and this doesn’t pertain to anyone at this Station”—they both shook their heads vigorously—“only if you travel to the lower levels, which we don’t know why you ever would, but—”

  “I would like to know more about the other Stations,” I broke in. “Creesie’s only briefly mentioned them.” Shock registered on Charlotte’s heart-shaped face.

  “See, I told you,” Rin mumbled through her teeth. “It doesn’t mean it’s going to happen for sure, but don’t you think she should know?”

  “If Creesie didn’t tell her, I don’t think we should,” Charlotte countered.

  Rin narrowed her eyes and tilted her head in a menacing fashion.

  “No,” she argued. “I’ll tell her! But only the bare necess—!” Charlotte stopped speaking as her eyes met mine, seemingly surprised that she was speaking aloud. There was a lot going on at the Station, more than Creesie had let on. Hadn’t she said that things were simpler here? Or was this all a part of the “unraveling” process?

  “In regards to the Stations, honestly, there are so many of them that we probably couldn’t count that high.” I almost laughed at the way Charlotte had phrased it, but her serious expression stopped me cold. “And we do know that they’re organized by levels, like floors in an elevator—”

  “Only the elevator runs sideways,” Rin broke in.

  “Exactly. Sideways,” Charlotte agreed, smiling at her friend as if all was forgiven. “You caught a glimpse of the other Stations as you came in. Do you remember, Hope?” I pictured the blindingly-bright corridor, and the thousands of doors without knobs. “Yes, that’s them,” Charlotte said, reading my thoughts. “Most of the doors didn’t have handles because only your Station would be open to you. It’s part of the organizational process.”

  “I see.” I rubbed my hand thoughtfully over my chin, hoping I looked like I meant it. In fact, I really didn’t see. I didn’t see at all.

  “Most of us don’t walk in the way that you did,” Charlotte admitted with a shrug. “But you must have done it that way because you’re just visiting. As you already know, most of the people here are permanent residents.”

  “Yes, I know all about that,” I told her, still confused. “But that doesn’t explain how I landed at this Station.”

  Charlotte made a face as she thought. “No one gets to select their Station. We’re assigned to it based on the way we’ve lived our lives. Sort of the way Santa does it . . .” She grinned at me facetiously. “You know, good or bad, naughty or nice.”

  “Charlotte’s trying to make it simple enough for you to understand,” Rin said in a slightly condescending tone. I was on the verge of feigning shock, as if I had previously believed that a furry, fat man assigned us to our Stations when she added, “Of course, it’s easier to get once you’re actually dead.”

  It was obvious there was something they weren’t saying, and I was determined to find out what it was. “But Creesie mentioned that nothing could harm me here. So that must mean that nothing could harm any of you. And if that’s true, why not mix everyone together? Why so many Stations?”

  Charlotte took a big breath. I could feel Rin’s eyes boring a hole in the back of my head.

  “Nothing can harm us, that’s true. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be . . . affected.” The way Charlotte said it gave me chills.

  “Affected how?” I asked.

  As if she were about to tell me a secret, Rin glanced around nervously and leaned in closer. I noticed she had no scent. “Remember that the selection of your Station is a lot like the way that Santa does it—”

  “I’m not seven!” I told Rin impatiently. “I get it. Skip ahead, will you?” I got the feeling Rin was suppressing an eye-roll—as if I were grating on an exposed nerve.

  “Not every dead person was once a good person,” Rin said finally. Shuddering, she flicked her dark eyes Charlotte’s way. “Some of the souls travelling through those other Stations can be nightmarishly frightening—even to us. We’re highly sensitive to other people’s emotions. And if we’re in the vicinity of even slightly tarnished souls—well, whatever horror they’re experiencing then becomes our horror.”

  Before I could process that, Charlotte said, “Of course, we can’t be harmed long-term, but we don’t like bumping into them, even by accident.” Charlotte paused, nodding as if she’d been told something that I couldn’t hear. “That’s true,” she agreed, confirming my suspicions. “The selection of one’s Station is never permanent. A person could move up—or sideways, as the case may be, and alter their eternity in a good way.” She gave me a soulful look, rather long, as though she were trying to impart a message. I stared back blankly. “It does require an act of great selflessness. Say, risking your life for another.” She took a slow breath. “Unfortunately, we hear that rarely happens.”

  Rin was glaring at me with so much intensity that I flinched a little. Why did I get the impression that she was mad at me? I couldn’t tell if it was for something I’d already done, or something she feared I might do.

  “You should be careful,” Rin said in an ominous tone. “Temporary visitors have much more to worry about at those other Stations than any of the dead do.”

  Charlotte proceeded to give Rin a chewing out in her head. For once, I didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that. When she’d finished, she reached up and smoothed the hair at her temples before turning back to me. “The Stations keep everyone safer, Hope. This way the dead can travel trouble-free . . . and temporary visitors,” she added with a bright smile, “can safely visit, and then safely return home to their bodies.”

  “Or wherever they end up going . . .” Rin muttered. More wordless glaring from Charlotte followed, but I’d already decided to ignore Rin’s commentary.

  “But I don’t get it,” I admitted. “What could these other souls do to me?”

  Charlotte placed her slender hands on my shoulders. “You still have a body. We don’t. For some of these souls, that’s the ultimate prize.” As the idea of that sunk in, the hair on my arms stood up.

  “It’s difficult to wrap your brain around true evil, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t out there, waiting to seize the right moment—” Rin’s tone was chilling. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to frighten me. Or if she had my best interests at heart. Mixed emotions emanated from her. I got the impression she couldn’t decide whether to hug me or hit me.

  Charlotte’s lips started moving fast, but silently, expressing her exasperation with Rin, no doubt. When she looked back at me, her face was soft again.

  “Don’t let Rin scare you, Hope. Most souls aren’t evil. It’s just that there are some who wouldn’t be the least bit troubled by causing others pain. In fact, they would take immense pleasure in it, even after death . . .”

  When she paused, I could see how difficult it was for her to continue. She seemed to be measuring her words carefully so as not to frighten me. If so, it wasn’t working. My stomach was in knots.

  “For the truly evil, killing you, or . . . the equivalent in our world—stealing your soul, would be like winning the lottery and earning eight gold medals at the Olympics all on the same day.”

  Rin’s face screwed up. “Dirty, nasty soul-suckers!”

  I tried to imagine what that entailed—the horror of it—then chose to dismiss that image. The ex
pressions on their faces led me to believe that this wasn’t the time to press for further information. I was ashamed to look at them; I had the vaguest sensation that I was about to do—or had already done—something awful.

  “Yeah, that’s, uh . . .” My voice sounded strange in my ears. It was difficult to put it into words. “If you don’t mind, let’s just skip the gory details.”

  Charlotte and Rin gave me a big squeeze from both sides, smothering me in arms and flowers and hair. When I’d caught my breath again, Charlotte cried, “You’re as safe here as you are in your own backyard. Just don’t go near the other Stations!” she warned. Rin seconded it by narrowing her eyes. It seemed like overkill. Visiting the other Stations wasn’t anywhere in the game plan. Crazy was so not my middle name.

  “Not a problem,” I muttered. “I’m only here on a layover.”

  We laughed together, and it quickly eased the nervous tension. Taking our minds off the previous topic, Charlotte began chattering about her sister’s dress—the beading, the color, the delicate straps, and my attention strayed. I’d never been much of a girly-girl in the living realm and, evidently, I still wasn’t. Though I tried not to stare, a family waiting to board the bus caught my eye. It was the first family that I’d seen.

  The children faced their parents, backs to the bus, fidgety and excited. Whatever the occasion, it was undeniably special. The young boy kept knocking his feet together as he stood in line, occasionally tugging on the curly ponytail of the smaller girl beside him. His sister, if I had to guess. She was maybe six, and the boy had about three years on her. He was tall, thin, and fair—like his mother—and wore long shorts, suspenders, knee-high socks, and ankle-high dress shoes. The sister was wearing a long-sleeved dress and tights. Both parents wore hats, but the woman’s was very striking—bell-shaped and with a wide brim that hit just above her eyes, then dipped down to her collar in the back. The father’s old-fashioned three-piece suit complemented his wife’s calf-length dress. As I looked on, the mother slipped one glove from her hand, delicately licked her finger, and wiped away an invisible smudge from the boy’s forehead.

  Watching them together made me miss my mother. On some deeper level, which I couldn’t entirely fathom, I still needed to know my mom was happy. Even landing here at the Station hadn’t lessened my desire to know. Not until I heard it from her own lips, here in this beautiful place, could I—would I ever—let go. Just how long I would wait for that wish to come true was anyone’s guess. I could possibly be dead by then.

  I watched the family move toward the bus, the mother reaching for her daughter’s hand, the father gripping his son’s shoulders. Beside me, Charlotte sighed. “Sweet, aren’t they?” I pulled my eyes away and saw her staring at them, just as I had been. “We know their story,” she said, slipping me a contagious smile. “Would you like to hear it?”

  I perked up. “There’s a story? I love a great story.”

  Rin gestured with her chin, as if it was impolite (even here) to point. The way she whispered reminded me of ghost stories—though I was told not to use that word here—and the way Claire and I used to tell them when we were younger, closer, and bored on a rainy evening. “They’re the Chartrands from Chicago, Illinois. That’s Eliza and Robert. Their children are Juliette and James. Eliza was a homemaker . . . loved throwing formal parties and playing the hostess, and Robert was an attorney.”

  “Quite successful, from what we hear.” Charlotte’s voice was hypnotically sweet. I got the idea she liked the family. “Oh, yes!” She exclaimed after a silent exchange with Rin. “It was beautiful, wasn’t it? And for the 20’s, very lavish—a mansion. It had four stories and eight bedrooms and was designed by some famous architect. You can look it up on the internet and still see pictures of what it used to look like . . .”

  Used to? I hoped it wasn’t a tragic story, but given our location, I sensed it wasn’t going to have a happy ending, either.

  Rin, bobbing her head, took over. “At that time, they didn’t have services like we have—you know, 911, organized fire departments and all that— ”

  I gasped. This definitely wasn’t going to end well.

  “Anyway,” Rin plowed on, ignoring my distress. “One night in early spring while the family slept, a fire broke out in a first floor chimney and by the time they realized what was happening, they found themselves trapped on the fourth—”

  “Oh, no!” I shrieked, reaching for my heart. “They all died in a fire?”

  “Not quite,” they replied. They both wore a strange, almost gleeful expression on their faces. It troubled me to see it, given the circumstances.

  “You go, Charlotte ,” Rin said.

  “No, you go,” Charlotte urged, twirling a single red strand. “You always tell it so much better than I do. It’s one of Rin’s talents,” she said to me. “She’s very eloquent, always has been.”

  Physical differences aside, the two of them could have been twins, finishing each other’s sentences the way that twins often do. Then again, if there were such a thing as best friends for eternity—how many years had they been doing this?

  “Well, somebody tell me!” I pleaded. “The anticipation is killing me!” They both giggled, and I groaned. Certain clichés didn’t have the same effect around here.

  “There’s more to the story,” Rin said, her velvet eyes darting my way. “There was a third child—an infant, and though neither of the older children could possibly survive a fall from a fourth story window, they prayed that their smallest child could.”

  I stared into her dark eyes, willing it not to be true. “They threw their baby out of the fourth-floor window? How could they have done such a thing?”

  Rin shushed me, looking around as if everyone had heard. “I don’t think you quite get their level of desperation! When they were forced to make that decision, flames were shooting out of the first three stories, thick black smoke was making it impossible to breathe, and they had only moments to live!”

  Following a dramatic pause, during which I couldn’t stop staring at the family, a heaviness in my heart, Rin finally went on. “They wrapped the baby in several blankets, leaving only his tiny face uncovered. Then they ran to the northeast corner of the house where the gardener had just turned up the soil for a vegetable garden, and praying that this was the softest place to land, they— ”

  “They threw the baby out of the window!” I refused to believe a mother could do that to her infant child. My heart broke for all of them.

  “Don’t look so sad, Hope.” Charlotte placed an arm around my waist and leaned her head against my shoulder. “The baby survived. That’s why the family’s here today.”

  “He . . . survived?” I choked.

  “Yes, Jon-Paul Chartrand celebrated his ninetieth birthday this year, but his time on earth is coming to a close, and the family is travelling to bring him back.” Charlotte’s eyes rimmed with tears. “They visited him every year, watched him grow up and become a successful lawyer, just like his father, and now it’s time for them to be together again.” Charlotte passed a secret smile to Rin. “No one’s ever really forgotten, Hope. We all get our families back again, sooner or later.” I felt certain she was trying to tell me something about my mother, but I said nothing back.

  We watched as the Chartrand family approached the bus, watched their heads rise as they bounded up the three steps, pausing beside the empty driver’s seat to deposit their coins. And as they advanced hand-in-hand a few steps down the aisle, we exhaled a long, mutual sigh as they instantly, suddenly, vanished.

  I wished them a lovely return trip, wherever they were going.

  Rin and Charlotte had broad smiles covering their faces. I was beginning to see the Station through their eyes, and I kind of liked it. “Thanks for the story,” I sniffled, wiping my eyes. “It had a happier ending than I imagined it would.”

  “I’m all about the happy endings,” Charlotte chirped.

  “I’m sorry, I need to—” I pointed towa
rd the café.

  “That’s fine,” Charlotte said, smoothing the front of her silk dress as she and Rin stood. Sitting in it had left it slightly wrinkled—a detail which amazed me. “We have a little traveling to do.” Her ethereal blue eyes were twinkling more than usual.

  “You’re leaving already?” My first pangs of loneliness made me sound pitiful.

  “Briefly, but we’ll be back before you can miss us.” Rin flashed a smile, slipping a silky strand back into place. “Time passes more quickly here than it does in the living realm. It’s pretty amazing, really.” She slipped a glance at Charlotte. “I’m tagging along because Charlotte needs my help. Ten years is a long time for a mother to cry.”

  Even though I’d never given it much thought, I had to agree. And when you saw it from the traveler’s viewpoint, it seemed completely unnecessary.

  “Maybe this time her mother will let her in,” Rin said, slightly hopeful.

  “Let her in?” I repeated, thinking of the seventy-nine visits. “What do you mean?”

  “Each time Charlotte visits, her mother closes her mind, tries to convince herself that her imagination’s playing tricks on her.” She looked at Charlotte. “Mrs. Gooding was a different person when Charlotte was alive. Both of them had thick red hair, sparkly blue eyes, and an infectious smile. Mrs. Gooding was a happy person back then.”

  “If anyone can reach her, Rin can!” Charlotte looked ridiculously optimistic. Rin, as the more grounded of the two, not so much.

  “I hope you get through to her,” I said, thinking of how difficult I must have made it for my own mother and experiencing a sudden twinge of guilt.

  “Eighty times the charm!” Charlotte bubbled in her little-girl voice.

  They ran hand-in-hand to the ticket booth, nearly tripping over their prom dresses in the process. After receiving two coins from Mac, they exited the Station to the waiting flat-nosed bus. I waved goodbye before stepping away from the glass.

  Turning toward the café, I saw Creesie making her way through the crowd. Her mouth wasn’t moving, but I could clearly hear her telling me—“Hold on! Wait!” It was the second time I’d clearly heard her speak without saying a word. It must have been urgent. I’d never seen her move so fast. Without any explanation, she looped her arm in mine and led me toward the ticket booth.