And I had no plans to lose.
“And me?” John Travolta inquired, sounding tense. “Where should I be?”
God, if a punchline was ever waiting to happen, this was it. However, I needed him, and telling him where I’d like him to go wasn’t in my favor.
Sighing and pulling on the ends of my wild dark hair, I stared at him and wondered briefly what my life would have been like if he’d been in it. I’d never know. The past was just that—the past. The future was mine and there was no room for him.
“I’m going to lie next to Steve on the bed and hug him. Grab a chair and put it next to the bed. You can touch my back,” I instructed with very little emotion in my voice.
“As you wish,” he replied formally.
Shaking my head, I bit back every snarly word that ached to leave my lips. He wasn’t good enough for my anger. My focus was Steve.
“I want to be near you,” Gideon said to me while smiling down at Steve. “Steve, is it okay with you if I lie on the bed as well?”
“Yausssss,” Steve said, glancing up at Gideon with fondness.
Steve’s reason for coming back was to make sure that I found real love with a man who could love me in a way he never could. Gideon was that man, and Steve was delighted.
“How about you?” Gideon inquired, looking at me in a way that made me feel truly seen. “Will that hinder you in any way?”
“Will it be weird for you?” I asked.
No one alive had ever been present when I went into the minds of the dead. I had no clue if I made horrible faces or noises. God forbid, the mortifying possibilities for embarrassing myself were endless.
Too bad. So sad. It didn’t matter if I grunted the entire time I was out of my body. I was doing this for Steve, and I would humiliate myself a million times over if that was what it took. Besides, I was sure if I did anything out of the ordinary, Candy Vargo would be delighted to let me know.
“Define weird,” Gideon said with a smile that made my heart skip a beat.
“Umm, fine point. Well made,” I replied with a small laugh. Weird was my new normal. “I would like it very much if you were close.”
Gideon nodded and lay down to the left of Steve. He gently put his hand on top of the blanket and whispered something in Steve’s ear.
Steve smiled and sighed.
I was dying to know what he said, but it was none of my business. The illogicality of everything happening was strangely perfect. My dead gay husband and the man I was in love with were friends. Steve approved of Gideon. My best friend had succeeded in what he had come back to do and now it was time to let him go.
“John Travolta, you can touch my back now,” I said, wrapping my arms carefully around Steve.
“Do you really have to call me John Travolta?” the Archangel inquired.
“Would you prefer deadbeat asshole?” I asked politely.
His pause was long. His chuckle was unexpected. “John Travolta will be fine.”
“As you wish.” I parroted the phrase he seemed so fond of and ignored the feeling of his hand on my back.
There was something so right and so wrong about my father’s touch. It was something I’d longed for as a child. As an adult, I still longed for it. However, the man was touching me because he had to, not because he wanted to.
“Keep your hand on me until I come back,” I told him flatly.
He had promised his word was good, but that didn’t mean I trusted him. His alliance with Clarissa was too obvious to ignore. There was no way I wanted to dive into Steve’s mind twice since it was unknown how it would affect him. I couldn’t take the chance that John Travolta would remove his hand before I was clearly able to prove Steve’s innocence.
“He will not remove his hand,” Charlie said in a steely tone. “If he does, he shall be handless for the rest of eternity.”
“Vicious. I like it,” Candy said with approval.
Heather moved across the room and stood behind John Travolta. With a snap of her fingers, the Archangel’s hand was bound to my back. The Angel hissed his disbelief at the disrespect and distrust that was being shown to him.
“Please tell me you can undo what you just did,” I said flatly. “I do not need a John Travolta barnacle for the rest of my life.”
“I can,” Heather said with a grin. “Not to worry. I wouldn’t burden you with the weight of a coward.”
Without looking, I felt my father’s body tense in fury.
“I’m sitting right here, Arbitrator,” he snapped.
“I am well aware of that,” Heather replied coldly. “I don’t want any more surprises tonight. You seem to be full of those, Michael.”
“Enough,” Tim said. “We are spectators here. There will be no bickering.”
“When did you grow balls?” Candy asked him.
“Same time you did,” Tim replied rudely.
“Touché,” she said with a laugh, and then added. “Mine are bigger.”
“Doubtful,” Tim muttered.
“I’m ready,” I said.
The room went silent. Steve’s deteriorating body trembled in my arms. My father’s hand was magically secured to my back. The two men I loved the most were with me. Gideon’s eyes met mine and a small smile pulled at his beautiful lips.
“You’ve got this,” he said softly. “The truth is on Steve’s side.”
Nodding, I took a deep breath and let myself fall.
The fall wasn’t without pain. I just hoped the pain to come wouldn’t end me.
Chapter Four
The cold. The cold went all the way to my bones and tore through my body like sharp, frozen daggers made of ice. Trying to catch my breath, I gasped for air but stayed calm.
My head pounded violently and every single cell in my body screamed for oxygen. I knew it was momentary, but it still sucked.
My mind went numb and my limbs felt like jelly.
Closing my eyes, I welcomed the icy chill that permeated my skin and seeped into my blood. It was proof that I was exactly where I wanted to be. I would never enjoy the sensation, but I’d become accustomed to it.
I’d become accustomed to a lot as of late.
I had no choice.
Or I was insane. It was a toss-up.
There was no rationalizing what I was doing. Gram had never taken a mind dive into the dead, nor had any other Death Counselor before her as far as anyone knew. While I did not subscribe to predestiny, I did believe that sometimes things happened for a reason. The simple fact that I could save Steve’s afterlife with my gift was more than a good enough reason to be saddled with the strange talent.
“My Daisy,” Steve said with such warmth in his voice. I felt tears prick behind my closed lids.
“That’s my name. Don’t wear it out,” I said, counting to three and slowly opening my eyes.
My gasp was audible. My tears were unstoppable. Steve was no longer a shell of a person. He was whole and beautiful—inside and out.
We stood opposite each other in a cavernous room of emptiness. There was no floor. No walls to speak of—more of a vast landscape of nothing. Steve and I floated in a silvery mist. It wasn’t frightening, but it would never be a place I would want to stay.
“Don’t cry,” he said, tilting his head to the side in concern.
“Happy tears,” I promised. “You look so…”
Glancing down at himself, he chuckled. “Damn fine,” Steve finished my sentence.
“Very damn fine,” I agreed, grinning. “I wish we could just stay like this for a while.”
“Why can’t we?” he asked.
Shaking my head, I felt guilty for the words I was about to speak, but they were the truth. “The longer I stay in your mind, the harder it is for me to recover.”
Steve pressed his lips together and ran his hands through his hair. “Let’s do this then.”
I nodded, feeling panic settle in my chest. “You’re sure it was an accident?”
“I’m sure, Daisy. I ca
n’t remember exactly what happened, but it was not by choice.”
“Good,” I replied, and then hesitated. “I…”
“You what?”
“I want to hold your hand,” I said.
“Like the Beatles?” Steve asked with a raised brow and a twinkle in his eyes.
“Umm, yes, dorko. Just like the Beatles. I’ll be Paul and you can be Ringo.”
“That sounds kind of gay,” he pointed out with a silly grin.
I shrugged. “If the ruby slipper fits…”
Steve’s laugh went all through me, and I felt true joy. “We can really hold hands here?”
I nodded and reached for him. Steve placed his hand in mine and grasped it firmly. His hand lacked the warmth of a living person with blood running through their veins, but it was so familiar and felt so good.
“I know that you’re dying to ask me something,” Steve teased, tucking my wild hair behind my ear and giving me a lopsided grin.
“No, I’m not,” I lied with a giggle.
“You want to know what Gideon whispered to me.”
Rolling my eyes, I sighed dramatically. “Yesssss, I do,” I admitted. “However, don’t forget that we have an audience. If it’s private, don’t say it. I’ll pry it out of him later.”
“No need. Gideon told me that when other’s look at you, they see your face, your smile, your kindness and your beauty.”
“Mmkay,” I said, not understanding why he needed to tell Steve that. “That’s it?”
“Nope,” Steve replied.
I eyed him and pursed my lips. “You’re going to make me guess the rest?”
“If we had the time I would,” he teased. “But since the clock is ticking, Gideon said that he sees your soul, and that he’ll love you until the end of time.”
I was flabbergasted, humbled and thrilled—so delighted that I forgot one very important thing…
“Gideon is getting so banged when I see him again,” I announced to a grinning Steve.
“You haven’t banged the Grim Reaper yet?” he asked, shocked. “His balls have to be purple by now.”
“I’m sure his balls are— Oh shit,” I said, slapping my forehead and wanting to turn back time about two minutes.
“What’s wrong with his balls?” Steve asked, clearly not on the same page. “He looks very healthy to me.”
“Umm, Steve—” I started, only to be cut off.
“Does he suffer from cryptorchidism?”
“What the hell does that even mean?” I asked, wildly confused.
“It’s an undescended testicle,” Steve told me. “Nowadays it can be corrected with surgery, but Gideon is older than time, so maybe it stayed up there. I don’t think that it’s a problem though. Have you seen his balls?”
“No,” I shouted. “I have not seen his balls. But here’s the problem. I know I haven’t seen his balls, and I know you haven’t seen his balls.”
“Gideon also knows you haven’t seen his balls,” Steve added unhelpfully.
I wanted to scream. “Yes, while that is correct, now Heather, Charlie, Candy Vargo, Tim and Darth Vader also know I haven’t seen his balls,” I said, letting my chin fall to my chest in embarrassed defeat.
“Shit,” Steve muttered, trying not to laugh.
He failed.
I joined him.
“How about we stop talking about Gideon’s balls?” I suggested, still giggling.
“Sounds like a plan,” Steve agreed, squeezing my hand. “Why don’t you apologize to Gideon?”
“He’s not here,” I pointed out.
“True, but he can hear us, right?” Steve asked, grinning like a fool.
I nodded and punched him in the arm. “Sorry, Gideon,” I called out into the nothingness.
I couldn’t even begin to imagine the Grim Reaper’s reaction to the last few minutes. Probably horrified and regretting his promise to Steve.
“I’m sorry too,” Steve called out. “It’s all my fault for suggesting that your balls hadn’t dropped. Which, by the way, is not a big deal if they haven’t. Just saying…”
“You should really stop now.”
“Roger that,” Steve agreed.
We stood in silence and stared at each other for a long moment. My mind was cluttered with fear laced with confidence. It had taken me a long time to get over Steve’s death. I hoped like hell I wouldn’t be thrown back to that dark place by reliving it.
It didn’t matter. There was a price for everything, and I was willing to pay whatever it took to send my best friend into the light.
“I’ll try to make this as painless as possible for you,” I said.
“Do not do that,” Steve said sternly. “I’m dead, Daisy. Any pain I feel is phantom pain. Just watch it with me. Help me to remember what happened. Please. Am I clear?”
“I hear you,” I told him.
He nodded and eyed me warily. “That was an answer with an omission.”
“Possibly,” I agreed. “Just relax and let me do what I need to do.”
Steve inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. He nodded and wrapped me in a tight embrace.
“Tell me what to do,” he whispered with his face buried in my hair.
Honestly, I wasn’t exactly sure. All of the others I’d visited in their mind had remembered what happened to them. Sam, John and Lindsay had known what they’d wanted to tell me. It took Lindsay some convincing to let me into the memories of her murder, but she’d trusted me completely.
Trust.
That was it… I hoped.
“Do you trust me, Steve?” I asked, pulling back and looking into his bright blue eyes.
“With everything I am, Daisy,” he replied, taking both of my hands in his.
“Then close your eyes and open your mind to me. I’ll be with you the entire time.”
“I love you, Daisy. With all my heart, I love you.”
“I love you too. I always have and I always will,” I said, holding back my tears.
I was unsure how quickly he would leave once his innocence had been proven. The concept of sending him into the light was perfect. The reality was devastating.
No pain. No gain.
“Close your eyes, Steve,” I instructed. “It’s time. Try to get to the day you died and then just let it happen.”
“I can do that. Will you be okay?” he asked.
“Yes.”
I was unsure if I was lying or telling the truth. Okay was a relative word, so I agreed to a very broad definition.
Pictures raced across my vision so quickly I couldn’t make them out. Again, it was like an old, static-filled black-and-white TV screen was inside my head. Catching glimpses of Steve’s memories of me, I smiled sadly.
Hindsight was 20/20 and heartbreakingly obvious. My blindness astounded me, yet surprisingly, I regretted nothing. Again, I had to believe some things happened for a reason. The fact that Steve and I had been together made me the person I was now. I liked the woman I had become.
As I watched our life together flit past, I saw two people who adored each other as best friends—not as a man and a woman in a romantic relationship. It was very clear that we’d had an unbreakable platonic bond, not a sexual one. While I wouldn’t change a thing, my heart still ached that neither of us had lived a full life together.
We’d lived a beautiful and loving lie.
I watched as Steve and I laughed at my first pathetic attempt at reupholstering a chair. I’d wanted to burn it, but Steve had proudly put it in his office and used it until the day he’d died.
“Oh my God. The chair,” I said with a laugh.
“I loved that butt-ugly chair—wildly unattractive, but very comfortable,” Steve said.
I still had the chair. It was one of my most valued possessions—hideous, but filled with lovely memories.
Our wedding day and many other happy days rushed across my vision. It was invasive to know that it was being observed by others, but it was yet another price to be paid.
>
“I’m there,” Steve whispered as I watched with sadness.
“And I’m here,” I promised. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“But I am,” he said in a choked voice.
“Are you scared?” I asked, squeezing his hands.
“Not for me,” he replied sadly.
“I’m wearing my lady balls and they’re completely descended,” I said in a light tone that belied the riotous emotions roaring inside me. “I’m good.”
The day was rainy and gray. The sky was crying in anticipation of what was about to transpire.
The oldies station played on the radio and Bill Withers sang a prophetic song—“Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone.”
If the word she had been replaced by the word he, it would have been eerily perfect.
My breath caught in my throat and a chemical shift jerked through my body. I had as little control over it as I did in taking my next breath. My body no longer belonged to me.
My heart raced erratically and I glanced around wildly. Opening my eyes, I couldn’t find Steve anywhere, much less myself. Shit. What had gone wrong?
The steering wheel in my hands felt real. The breath from my lips proved I was still alive. However, the breath was unfamiliar. Glancing down, I gasped as I realized why I couldn’t see Steve in front of me.
I’d become Steve. I was driving the car.
My intention was to take the pain from him during the crash—just like I’d done for Lindsay during her murder. Had I screwed myself with this plan?
Was I about to die for Steve?
Bill Withers continued to sing.
If the words to the song were my future, I was fucked.
“Bill Withers, you need to change those lyrics,” I muttered, navigating the sharp curves on the country road. It wasn’t exactly a switchback, but the drop-off on the side of the road was steep and deadly.
I knew I was getting close to the spot where Steve’s car had gone off the road and wrapped itself around a tree. My anxiety grew as the tires began to hydroplane and the rain came down in torrents.
“Slow down,” I shouted at myself and anyone who cared to listen. “You’re going to die.”
Someone was listening. God? Steve? Me? I didn’t know and I didn’t care. I was just happy the speed decreased.
A Most Excellent Midlife Crisis: Good To The Last Death Book Three Page 4