by Dale Mayer
Vengeance had been the goal.
And Bernice had nothing to do with any of this but she was someone Shay loved. Bernice had been an innocent victim. Just like David. Like Robert… Like so many others.
For years, Bernice'd been the closest thing to a mother Shay had. Why Shay's brother hadn't been targeted too, Shay didn't know. Unless Jordan thought Shay wasn't close to him because he'd spent the bulk of the last year on various continents around the world whereas everyone else she cared about was here. Close by. Available. Visible.
Anger spiked through Shay as she realized how she'd been manipulated. How she'd been played. Not once, but twice. By Darren and now his sister. Struggling for control, she tamped down the anger slightly, not wanting to bring attention to her presence. She didn't dare risk exposure at this stage.
But she acknowledged the anger, honed it to precision accuracy. She zeroed in on the chakras and raced through Jordan's body to the heart. There she waffled, though she understood what was needed.
She knew that to use deadly force was going to take her to a place she didn't want to go. Again.
Don't use deadly force. Use love as the force. Don't direct your anger and pain at her. Instead, shine your love – for all these children and for those of us helping...indeed for the rest of all that’s good and true in the world – through her heart chakra. There can only be one of two outcomes. One, the deadly blackness will dissipate under the love; or two, she won't be able to withstand the influx of energy. Remember…love conquers all.
Shay lifted her face to the light and let her love pour through. She smiled as the warmth and joy filled her. She wasn't made of anger and pain. She lived a life of love and grace. She believed in it. Chose to live her life by it. At that moment, she was in the perfect state…of grace.
She closed her eyes and pulled the small, vapor-sized pieces of herself toward her, glowing with love for her fellow man. For freedom to walk the path she needed to walk. She called the basic elements of her essence home.
In a wash of golden goodness.
Her energy swelled with joy. Shay's form grew as the tiny parts of her raced home. One by one, they collected to become one whole astral soul. Hers. All the while, she sent out strong, loving energy, healing energy, warm caring energy. Forgiving energy. She forgave Darren for his betrayal. She forgave the twin brother.
And hardest of all – she forgave Jordan.
Her heart swelled with her own joy as hurts of the last year dropped away. She released herself from the bondage of pain she'd locked herself into this last year.
Her astral form continued to grow, and her energy continued to glow. What a weight she'd carried this last year. And now, she just let it go. She felt it release, felt the emotions and memories, energy hooks, all the negative energy fall away. She let it all go.
She realized she really was thankful to Jordan for this opportunity. Shay could grow through this. And Shay could cleanse her soul.
Jordan would have to make peace in her own way on her own time.
But it wouldn't be in this lifetime.
Even as the words flew through her thoughts, the last of her astral form came home – swiftly, silently and secretively – so quickly Jordan didn't see Shay's arrival.
Until it was too late.
Shay witnessed when Jordan suddenly understood that something had changed. Something in her world had gone wrong. Shay could feel Jordan’s disbelief, her anger, then her realization.
That she had a visitor. On the inside.
In a featherlight movement, Shay whispered, "Knock, knock. Guess who's here?"
"Noooo...!" The scream ripped from Jordan's throat in one long anguished torrent.
Distant sounds barely filtered through Shay's consciousness. Yells, pounding, splintering wood, more screaming.
Then...it all stopped...and Shay heard...nothing.
And the internal pressure, the force from too much energy contained in one confined space – burst through in an explosion.
Shay cried out as the space she was in – shattered, sending her astral form spiraling back out to the universe, in a million infinitesimal fragments.
***
Friday morning…
"You need to rest," Stefan urged Roman. "You can't help her if you can't look after yourself."
Roman stared at him, knowing the pain of the last few days would never truly go away. Shay was comatose before him, still lying on his bed as she had when he'd woken up that fateful morning.
Dr. Maddy was still trying. And so was Stefan.
Shay wasn't just lost in the ethers, but her fragments were spread so thin, the pieces flung so far apart, they couldn't call her home.
"I can't sleep," he said simply. "I have to help."
What could he do? He wasn't like them. He had no psychic abilities. He couldn't track her down like they were attempting to do. Or track all the lost pieces that made up the Shay he knew and loved. Talk about a mind-boggling concept.
He shuddered and closed his eyes. "But I don’t know how. Tell me what I can do to bring her back. I'm not like you."
Stefan's smile was tired but held real amusement. "You, more than anyone, should be able to help. You know her better physically than I do. Than anyone does." Stefan gave a short laugh. "This might not be the best time but...maybe there is none better. You are likely the only one that can help."
Roman shook his head, but Stefan continued to speak. "Though you aren’t aware…you are a dream walker. You called it inspiration. And true, that's how you started on this journey, but one painting, one photo was never enough. You had to have more. You had to see more. You dreamed of her. Of knowing more. Of being more with her. You don’t remember but in your dreams you traveled to her, so you could see her in greater detail. You walked with her in your dreams. And then you painted her."
Roman stared at him. Shock rippling through him. "Say what? All I've ever done is paint pictures of her. Sure, sometimes I close my eyes to pull an image into tighter clarity, but that's all." He tried to shrug it off. The rest of what Stefan said was just too bizarre.
"And that's how you've been doing what you're doing. The first picture piqued your interest, but it can't account for the visual images you've been drawing on these last couple of years. You've been accessing the images that you have stored from walking with her in your dreams. That's how you have seen her in such clarity – in such detail. In so doing, she became a part of your psyche. A part of you. A part of your soul. It's a connection that can't be severed. You are now her safety line. Or her ground, as we call it. You are the one that can show her the way home."
There were no words. Roman could only stare, as he remembered the many tormented nights and happy mornings when he'd woken up with his thoughts full of Shay. He'd felt foolish. Like a lovestruck teenager. All the while he'd been developing a skill called dream walking? To become Shay's lifeline?
He loved that idea. Wanted to be what Shay needed. But surely Stefan was wrong? Talking about someone else? Someone with psychic abilities. Someone like Stefan.
"I think you're wrong. But I hope you aren't. If you’re right, I still don’t know how to help."
Stefan walked closer. "How, you ask?" He smiled, realization dawning on his own face. "By doing what you do best. By painting her. Your love for her is in every line. Every brushstroke. I saw it. She saw it."
Roman stared at Stefan. "She did?"
"Absolutely. She said as much at your showing that night. She understood, even then, the power of the connection you had." He smiled gently. "She just hadn't recognized the connection was to her."
"I don't understand that."
Stefan, so tired that his voice cracked, said, "There's nothing to understand. You love her. Now go paint her. All of her. You no longer need a photo of her. You know her so well. You could paint her with your eyes closed." His face lighted. "And from your expression I can see you already have done that. So do it again now. Paint every inch of her. Show her the way he
re. The way home. Help her to pull her energy back to become whole in her astral self. If you can do that, the shift to her body will be easy."
Roman was too scared to answer him right away. What if he couldn't do what Stefan said he could? What if he could, but he screwed it up? What if by his actions, he lost Shay forever?
He walked over to the bed to stare down at his beloved Shay. "You're crazy. It's ridiculous to say I can do any of that stuff you talked about."
"What you don't understand is that Shay is here," Stefan said. "Right now." He waved his arm around the room. "She's everywhere. But she's fragmented. She's so small she's in the very air we breathe. But she can't find her way home – or else she'd be here. You are her home. You are her other half. Now paint exactly what you see in your mind and guide her back. Ground her here."
Roman narrowed his gaze at something he couldn't quite detect in Stefan's voice. His heart sank as he thought he understood. "You don't think I can do this."
"I'm hoping you can." Stefan ran his fingers through his hair and down the back of his head, then admitted, "But I'm afraid that what you'll paint won't be what you're expecting." Stefan pointed to the door. "Your studio is there. Go. Close your eyes and paint Shay as you see her in your mind, right now."
With that command, Roman bolted for his studio. He picked up a blank canvas and removed the unfinished picture on his favorite easel. Not allowing himself to second-guess, he allowed himself to begin without thinking about what he’d paint.
At his paint counter, he instinctively opened red and white tubes. In a slapdash methodology he never used, he squeezed paint onto his palate and started mixing. As always, the feel of a brush in his hand calmed him. Made him feel more in control. As if what he would put on the canvas was important. Meaningful – at least it would be to him.
Nervous tension gripped his stomach. He was so afraid Stefan was wrong. Roman wanted him to be right, but... Roman was not like Stefan, or Maddy. Or Shay. Yes, Roman could paint, but his talent was nothing compared to the stuff they did...
But if there were anything he could do to help Shay...Roman would do it.
He walked back to the blank canvas and went to place a long stroke of her arm, when he realized he couldn't. His hand couldn't make the stroke. He tried again, the effort breaking a sweat out on his brow.
Stefan spoke from behind him. "Relinquish control. Let the brush tell you what to paint."
His back stiffened. Realizing Stefan could guide him, he nodded.
"Close your eyes, and let your brush speak for you."
Such an odd suggestion. But it felt right. And that was even odder still. Aware of not having painted Shay since they’d become lovers, he closed his eyes and let his hand – his brush – do as it willed. He’d been aware of every line of Shay's body for a long time and now he knew her at a physically intimate level. He dreamt of her. In that Stefan was right. Had he really travelled to see her, too? He cast his mind back. Seeing the times he stopped a painting to stare off into space. Accessing images from…somewhere.
When his arm dipped and dabbed, he was astonished, wanting to look, but he was scared to stop the magic. When his brush no longer moved, he realized someone behind him was taking a deep breath. "Well, you got that much right."
Roman opened his eyes to see he’d painted a woman's form lying on a bed. She was barely discernible in white. More like a ghosted image on the canvas.
But covering the entire form were thousands of red dots.
"What the hell is that?"
"That is Shay as she is now." Stefan studied the painting, and then apparently satisfied, nodded. "Now call to her in your mind. Tell her how much you love her. And need her. Call her home."
Stefan wandered the space. Spying a stack of blank canvases, he replaced the one Roman had just painted with a new, blank one. "Here. Now paint her again. We'll see if there is a change."
Thinking he was crazy, but willing to try anything if it would help, Roman closed his eyes and let his need pour forth.
Shay. Please come home to me. I love you. I need you. Don't make me live this way. Without you. I was lost until I found you, and now, you are lost to me. Please. Find me here. Come to me. Let's live our lives together. Be with me until we grow old, together. Please. Come home.
He closed his eyes and bowed his head as the litany played over and over again in his mind. He barely registered when his arm lifted and the brush started moving rapidly across the canvas. He could feel pressure inside his chest. Feel the pain of his loss and the agony of his need to have her returned to him. He'd never been much of a verbal communicator, preferring to use a canvas for his expression. And he found an odd sense of freedom in giving that expression free rein.
"Now open your eyes." Stefan's warm voice sounded at his shoulder.
Roman opened his eyes and studied the painting. The same white image lay quietly in the bed, only now it was more defined. Was it more lively than the first image?
He raced back to his first canvas and checked. He frowned. There might be a tiny change in her expression? And then again, maybe not. He returned to his canvas. The red dots had collected more closely together. In the shape of a woman's body. Not a definable solid line, but they were representative of Shay's body, as if he had used a stippling technique. Interesting. He never used that style. "But what does it mean?"
"It means she's hearing you." Stefan smacked him on his back, "Good. Now – do it again."
Obediently, Roman closed his eyes and started all over on yet another blank canvas. He explained how he'd loved her long before he'd met her. How he'd been ashamed to tell her. How he hadn't been able to explain for fear of chasing her away. And he'd do anything to keep her in his life.
Anything.
Before he really understood how much he'd done or the time that had passed, he realized a fatigue like he'd never known before had settled deep into his soul.
"Open your eyes."
Roman gazed at the more collected, but still undefined, form of a woman hovering over the slack woman in white. He checked on Shay. This time he could see the change. The stillness was gone. She wasn't back, but she no longer looked like the living dead.
"Again."
This time, Roman knew what to do. Seeing the change, knowing his efforts were working, he closed his eyes, and with determination and a hint of anger in his voice he called out to her while his arm worked at a furious pace – with a surety to it's strokes. If she was listening, then she could damn well come home.
"Shay. Get yourself back home and into my bed where you belong," he roared. "I love you. I always have. God damn it, I won't sleep with your ghost for the rest of my life. Get your beautiful ass home – now."
He could sense Stefan's surprise. Felt his bated breath as he waited to see what would happen next. Roman opened his eyes and couldn't believe the image on his canvas. "Wow."
"I'll say."
The red polka dot form had lain down over top of the white still form, injecting existence and blood into the woman on the canvas. The red became pink, giving the impression of life and a spark to her image.
He threw down the paintbrush and raced back to his bed.
And cried out in pain.
Shay didn't look any different.
His heart dropped. He'd been so sure he'd actually be able to make his paintings create truth in real life. Panic set in. Ignoring the rules he'd been told, not to touch, and with Stefan making no move to stop him, Roman dropped to her side, lowered his head and kissed her. Gently. Tenderly. Afraid to hurt her.
He pulled back, studied her for a long moment. Then spoke forcefully, lovingly, but giving no quarter. "Enough, damn it. Come home, Shay. Please."
And he dropped his head again and kissed her. Hard.
It took a few seconds to realize that the cool lips were warming beneath his, that the arms crushed against his chest were hanging on to his shirt, and that she really was responding.
He pulled back to stare into that
beloved, half-lidded gaze. Tears formed in the corner of his eyes. "Shay? Oh thank God. I love you," he whispered. "Thank you for coming back."
"Thank you," she answered simply, "for showing me the way."
He dropped his forehead to rest on hers. "Good thing you came home or I'd have found a way to cross over and drag you back."
"You won't have to." She smiled, tears pooling in the corner of her eyes to slide down her face. "Just do what you did tonight. Use love and I'll always find my way back to you."
The two gazed at each other in exhaustion and hope, and then Roman lowered his head once again.
Chapter 27