And now, a couple hours later, as Audrey sat with her hands over her knees watching reality TV, Dennis knew it was time. Tomorrow might not come. Tomorrow was not promised to anyone. And this family knew it all too well. There was someone missing tonight, someone who should have been there but wasn’t.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
She obliged as he sat down on the couch next to her and turned off the television. Audrey and her curly hair and wide, beautiful eyes faced him on the couch.
He sighed, wondering how to start.
“You doing okay?”
“Dad.”
“What?”
“If I hear that question one more time…”
“Okay.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just—I’ve wanted to tell you something for a long time now. Something I’ve needed to tell you.”
“I know, I know. You love me,” Audrey said, smiling, trying to break the seriousness.
“That’s not it, wise guy.”
“Wise gal.”
Dennis shifted on the edge of the couch, looking at her, feeling strangely nervous about what he needed to say.
“When your mother.… Just weeks before she ended up dying, she told me something to tell you after she was gone. I didn’t want to hear this, of course. I never truly believed she would die. Never. Part of me always held on to hope that there would be some miracle. But she did die. And, well, I didn’t want to tell you this.”
“Tell me what?”
“It was just something small that she wanted you to know. And as time passed I knew you already believed this, that you already knew this. It’s just—it’s just that I never believed it. And I’ve refused to believe it for a very long time. Until recently.”
“Believe what, Dad?”
He smiled at Audrey.
“Your mother had a vision of heaven before she died. It was vivid and real. And she described it to me perfectly. A small town by a lake, with cobblestone streets and a cool breeze that blew between the buildings. She described the place and the scene so perfectly, I told her she should have been a writer. But she said mere words couldn’t sum up this place, it was that perfect. It was perfect, and it was full.”
“Full?” Audrey asked.
“Full in every way. Full of love. Full of life.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I thought—I thought she was crazy. I thought it was just a dream. You know? Like the kind we all have.”
“So why tell me now?”
“Because I think—because I believe in that place. I think it exists. I don’t quite get all of that—that faith thing. But I believe she’s there.”
“I know she is,” Audrey said.
Dennis fought tears.
“It was so simple, you know? So very simple. But I just couldn’t get myself to tell you. Because I never believed it. I didn’t want to believe she was in a better place. I didn’t want to believe she was watching over us. That she would protect us. Because that’s my job. That’s what I’m supposed to do. I was supposed to protect us and watch over us and watch over her, and yet she was ripped away from me and what could I do, you know? What could I do?”
His eyes watered and his jaw felt heavy and he fought but couldn’t control his tears.
Audrey held his hand. “Dad, it’s okay.”
He wiped his eyes. “I know. I just. I’m sorry. Audrey—I’m sorry for not telling you this.”
“You didn’t need to tell me.”
Dennis laughed. “Yeah, that’s the thing. My own daughter has more faith than I do.”
“Maybe it’s easier to have faith,” Audrey said. “That’s what Mom taught me.”
“Yeah.”
For a moment they shared the silence, comfortable with it.
Dennis hoped Lucy could see them. That she could feel their love.
He certainly felt hers.
2.
An hour later, in the silence of the dark house, Dennis heard the door to his bedroom open. He jumped up.
“Dad?”
It was Audrey. He let out a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart.
“Yeah?”
“Can we talk?”
“Sure.”
He turned on a light and adjusted his eyes. She came and sat on the edge of the bed in her sweatshirt and flannel pajama pants.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Uh-oh.”
“No. It’s nothing bad. It’s just—it’s something I never told you. I didn’t think to tell you, but now—well, this is the night of telling our secrets.” She smiled. “I thought you’d like to know.”
“To know what?”
“That night with Mitch—when I snuck out of the house to be with him. To go over and hang out with him and Liz. The night both of them were killed. I never went to his house. I told you I had asked him to take me back home. But the truth was—I felt compelled to go to Mom’s grave. We had just been there that day, and I was still emotional. But I asked Mitch to take me there because I felt…”
“You felt what?”
“I was scared. When I got in that car, something in me told me I needed to get out. And the safest place I thought of going—it wasn’t the house. It was her gravesite. And I know—if I had gone to his place where Liz was waiting—I would have died that night.”
“I know.”
“It’s almost like—I’ve always believed Mom warned me. And that she wanted me in the safest place. Maybe angels guard her grave. I don’t know. But that’s where I was. And I walked home from there. Home in the dark.”
Dennis took his little girl’s hand and held it. “Why didn’t you tell me before now?”
“Because I thought—because I knew you wouldn’t believe.”
“I believe you.”
“I know you do, Dad. I know.”
3.
The following day arrived with clear skies and bright sun. Dennis awoke before Audrey, just after sunrise. He decided to head to town to get some coffee and pastries. He knew there were a hundred things to do today. And a hundred reasons to be happy.
On the drive toward downtown, he felt light and hopeful.
You can see me now, can’t you? Can you read my mind? Can you hear my thoughts? Can you feel my soul?
Dennis drove, music cranked, windows down, Audrey home, the dark madness from last fall finally starting to dissipate.
But Dennis knew that some things would never go away. Joy and pain stayed with you like paintings in a museum, standing in a room of your heart on full display, encased in a protective window that you couldn’t break. The joy and pain remained.
But on this bright morning, as he drove toward town, Dennis thought of the joy.
Her laughter and her skin and her touch and her life. A spark a thousand times brighter than the sun, a soul a thousand times richer than anything he could ever conjure up on the page. It kept him going, kept him breathing, kept him feeling.
I still love you, and I always will.
Dennis turned the corner and passed the small church, just like always, waiting to see what the sign said.
Perhaps a love letter from her. Or maybe a few words of encouragement.
But instead the sign surprised him.
The top line read:
YOU’VE COME THIS FAR,
NOW COME A LITTLE FARTHER.
And then on the bottom, it read:
OUR DOORS ARE ALWAYS OPEN.
And he smiled, knowing.
Knowing and believing.
High Hopes
It’s the last night in June, the temperature a moderate sixty degrees.
The man wheels the dumpster to the end of the driveway. He places it on the edge of the drive facing Route 31. Just like always. Another weekday night, another routine.
For a moment he looks over to the neighbors’ lifeless house with the For Sale sign outside. Then he stares up through the tre
es toward the moon, barely visible above trees and clouds.
And as always, he wonders.
Does she see me? Does she think of me? Does she remember? Does she still know?
He doesn’t know much. But he knows this. If heaven and hell exist, he knows what they are.
Hell is a place without hope.
And heaven is where she lives.
To have lived through hell… Dennis knows he’s a changed man. But how and in what ways—he still has to figure that out. He’s starting to, slowly.
He enters his house and double-bolts the door and double-checks that it’s locked. Then he climbs the familiar stairs and enters the familiar office.
He sees the bookcase of all his hardcovers prominently displayed behind his chair.
I’d give them back to have you. I’d erase every single happily ever after to simply have one.
The office is cool and quiet. He sits in his chair and taps his keyboard to awaken his computer.
And for the first time in a long time, he starts typing without thinking, without worrying, without wondering.
It’s time again.
He can’t remember how long it’s been, but it’s been at least two years.
He types in the name Lucy gave him, the title Lucy gave with her gift from the grave. The photo that hangs on the wall next to his desk.
He starts to write this story, different from anything he’s ever written.
It will be a love story, and it will be about Lucy. And he will try to catch just a tiny fraction of what she was like, what it was like to love her.
And after writing for an hour and feeling like he could go on all night long, he looks at the screen and says the title out loud.
“Wish You Were Here.”
A Note from the Author
Authors are a crazy bunch, aren’t we? We make these stories out of nothing, spending so much time thinking and plotting and planning and writing. It can’t be easy being married to an author or having one as a friend or family member or working with one. So with that said, let me offer some words of thanks to those who put up with me.
Sharon, my wonderful wife—thank you for being down-to-earth when I’m orbiting the planet. Kylie, my feisty little lady—thank you for showing me that passion and zeal can be beautiful things.
Anne—thank you for challenging me and encouraging me and helping me be the best writer I can be. Claudia—thanks for sticking with me on this writing journey.
To my relatives, especially my parents and my in-laws—thank you for loving me and supporting what I do. To my friends, thanks for being there.
I’d like to say a special thanks to all my buddies at Rock Bottom. Especially Kyle—thank you for a conversation that saved my life.
For all my fans and readers, thank you again for coming along for the ride.
About the Author
Travis Thrasher is the author of ten previous novels. A full-time writer and speaker, Travis lives with his wife and daughter in a suburb of Chicago. For more information about Travis, visit www.travisthrasher.com.
A Conversation with Travis Thrasher
Q: Where did the idea for Ghostwriter come from?
A: I wanted to do something in the vein of Isolation—another “horror” novel. The idea came in the form of a character. I thought, What if I write about a horror novelist who doesn’t believe in the supernatural? That opened up a lot of possibilities in the story.
Q: Is this a genre you enjoy writing in?
A: I enjoy writing in all types of genre, but it seems like I’ve found one that I’m really comfortable in. I was encouraged by the overwhelmingly positive response to Isolation.
Q: For those readers who have followed your career since your first novel, the self-proclaimed “sweet little love story” The Promise Remains, what can you say about the direction your writing is headed?
A: There is a strange link between all my novels. In my mind, they all deal with fears. The Promise Remains is ultimately about the fear of not finding that “right” person in life. The Watermark is about the fear of not being forgiven by God for something you’ve done. Each of my books deals with a fear I’ve had. The only difference is that in the early books, the tension came out of love stories. Now, I’m taking fears and weaving them into hair-raising tales. But even in Ghost-writer, there is the backbone of a love story between Dennis and his wife, Lucy.
Q: Since you have fans in both the general market and the Christian market, are you worried that this kind of story might impact your growing readership and alienate Christian readers by taking on the idea of ghosts?
A: My goal as a writer is to entertain readers while challenging myself. I don’t want to preach, nor do I want to teach. But I also don’t want to dishonor God in my writing. Look at A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens—look at the message of that story. There were three ghosts in that tale. As I explore the horror/supernatural-thriller genre, I want to take on the staples of that genre and make them my own. Isolation dealt with demon-possession (à la The Exorcist). Ghostwriter is my ghost story. I want to continue to build my readership, but I’ve never been the type of writer who is driven by other people’s expectations.
Q: Ghostwriter is your eleventh published novel. How would you describe the Travis Thrasher brand?
A: Like a Happy Meal that contains something different every time you get it. I have an outrageous goal as a writer— not to build a broad readership in one category, but to build a readership that follows me wherever I go. Perhaps that’s impossible, but it’s what I dreamed of doing when I was growing up, and so far, I’ve still been able to do it.
Q: What are you working on next?
A: That’s one of those questions I can never truly answer, simply because I always have a variety of things in the works. The way I can answer that is this: my next contracted book will be called Broken and is scheduled to come out May 2010. It’s another supernatural thriller.
Q: You’ve been writing full-time for a ear now. What’s that been like?
A: It’s been exciting and scary. God continues to teach me a lot, especially about trusting Him. It’s been amazing to see God’s hand in my life this past year. The great thing about that is that I’ll be able to take some of those experiences and weave them into a story that might get published down the road.
Q: What’s something you’d like your readers to know?
A: I’d like them to know my honest appreciation for their taking the time to read my books. I say this a lot. It’s not a big deal for someone to pay fourteen bucks for a book. But it’s monumental for them to give their time for something I’ve done. I’ve put my heart and soul into every single one of my books, and I’m never going to stop doing that. My biggest hope is for a reader to be moved—to be scared silly or moved to tears or inspired. I’m going to keep trying, and hopefully I’ll keep getting better.
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