BETWEEN WORLDS
JACQUELINE E SMITH
Wind Trail Publishing
Between Worlds
Copyright © 2014 by Jacqueline E. Smith
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form, by any means, or stored in a database without prior written consent of the publisher.
Wind Trail Publishing
PO Box 830851
Richardson, TX 75083-0851
www.WindTrailPublishing.com
First Paperback Edition, July 2014
ISBN-13: 978-0-9896734-1-9
Cover Design by Benjamin Durham
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental.
Printed in the United States of America.
For all my loved ones, in this world and the next.
Chapter 1
“Welcome to The Sally Stone Show. I’m your host, Sally Stone, here to talk with only the most interesting folks around.
“Our first guest is a young man who claims that he can see and speak to the spirits of the dead. He made local headlines three months ago after being held hostage by serial killer, Chastity Cannon, now known in most media outlets as The Angel of Death. He was then saved, thanks to a daring rescue by his neighbor and Luke Rainer, star of the ghost hunting hit, Cemetery Tours. Now, here to talk to us today about his extraordinary sixth sense, please welcome Mr. Michael Sinclair.
S: Michael, thank you for being here with us.
M: Thanks. I - I mean... you’re welcome.
S: So tell me, how did you become friends with a superstar like Luke Rainer? I must confess I’m a little jealous. I’d love it if Luke Rainer were my best friend.
M: Actually, my best friend is my roommate, Brink. And Kate. But Luke’s a good friend, too. I mean, he did help save my life. Um... was that the question?
S: Close enough. Let’s talk about the ghost thing. Is it true?
M: Uh... yeah...
S: You seem hesitant.
M: Sorry. I’m not really used to talking about it.
S: That reminds me, how did you manage to keep something like this a secret for so long? I mean seeing ghosts? That’s kind of a big deal.
M: I guess I kept it the way most people keep secrets. I never talked about it.
S: Well, now that it’s out there, I’m guessing there are a lot of people who want you to talk about it.
M: Yeah. It’s kind of crazy.
S: How are you coping with the attention? Has your life changed very much?
M: Not really. It was a little hectic a few months ago, but overall, life is pretty much back to normal.”
That was a lie -- one of many Michael had told to Sally Stone, the late-night talk show host and self-proclaimed speaker for all things new, hot, and interesting.
Life had never been normal, but at least it wasn’t downright irritating. Well, it hadn’t been before that incident with Chastity Cannon had left him with a broken collarbone, a gunshot wound, ugly bruises the size of baseballs, and a swarm of reporters tracking his every move and demanding to know whether or not her allegations were true.
Could he actually see ghosts?
Fortunately, the bruises were gone, the gunshot wound had healed, and the collarbone was pretty much back to the way it was before. Though it did hurt whenever it was about to rain.
A seventh sense. Lucky me.
Unfortunately, the aftereffects of being outed as a “medium,” a “psychic,” and something called a “ghost-talker,” still lingered. For example, instead of turning on the television to find an actor telling a funny story about something that happened on the set of his latest movie or a new author explaining the inspiration behind her latest bestseller, he was suddenly face-to-face with his own image, looking very much out of place and stammering like a total idiot.
“Well, at least you’re cute,” Kate had offered up in consolation after the interview aired on TV. But Michael was pretty sure she was just trying to make him feel better, because he definitely wouldn’t call the nervous guy on the television screen any sort of attractive.
His hair, which usually fell in dark, messy locks around his face, had been styled back so that he looked like he was on his way to Prom in the 1950‘s. Then, the makeup crew had added so much eyeliner that his brown eyes looked even darker (and somehow, a lot more sinister) than they normally did. The foundation they used did do a good job concealing how queasy and pale he’d been, but it had been a totally different color than the rest of his skin, so he’d ended up looking like a rock-star pumpkin with a lot of hair gel. The dark suit he was wearing only accentuated the orange color of his skin. But maybe, just maybe, his awkward appearance would distract from how blatantly uncomfortable he had been during the interview.
He wished Sally Stone had asked Luke to be her guest instead. After all, Luke was the celebrity. He was used to speaking in front of large audiences. And he and Kate were the ones who’d actually done something heroic that night in the field. Michael had just been the damsel in distress.
But he could talk to ghosts. That made him the “interesting” one.
Kate had told him he wasn’t giving himself enough credit. After all, he had saved her life. The bullet he’d taken had actually been intended for her, but he’d pushed her out of the way. The thing was no one had actually asked him about that. They just wanted to talk about the ghosts.
At first, Michael wished the reporters and talk show hosts would ask him about something else: where he’d gone to school, what he liked to do in his spare time, how he felt about global warming, anything. But considering the way his life had been going lately, he’d definitely rather talk about the dead people wandering around his living room. They were a lot less of a bummer.
In the three months since the “incident,” he’d lost his job at the library. They told him that because of city budget cuts, they couldn’t afford to keep menial jobs like shelving books, but he was the only one who’d been let go. He suspected that due to procedural regulations, the library director couldn’t fire him because a few paranoid people were afraid that he’d sic a ghost on them. So instead, they blamed it on budget cuts.
Now, Michael spent what few spare moments he had trying to find a new job. It wasn’t an easy task. Most potential employers knew his story, and those who didn’t usually heard about him from someone else. Before, Michael would have thought that a pseudo-celebrity status would help him get hired. But that was definitely not the case. If anything, it seemed to be preventing it.
Being in the public eye also meant that people everywhere suddenly knew who he was. Instead of being just another guy shopping for paper towels and peanut butter at the grocery store, he was Michael Sinclair, American Medium. Strangers, both living and dead, approached him daily, asking if he would contact someone for them. He tried to accommodate the dead as much as he could, but their living loved ones were a little more complicated. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t a medium, at least not the kind that could summon spirits who had already moved on. Perhaps there were people out there who could, but he wasn’t one of them. The only ghosts he could access were the ones still hanging around in this world or realm or whatever word Luke would use to describe it.
On top of all of that, Kate’s parents were putting forth every effort to make sure their daughter had nothing more to do with him. Not that there was very much they could do. After all, Kate was a grown woman who was capable of making her own decisions, and she and Gavin still lived righ
t across the landing from Michael. But it was still bothersome.
That was why, whenever interviewers like Sally Stone asked him if his life had changed very much in the past three months, his answer was always, “No.”
As annoying as all of that was, he had to admit that some good had come out of being forced into the public eye. For example, he no longer lived in fear of someone discovering his secret. He hadn’t quite realized just how tremendous a burden something like that could be on a person until that burden had been lifted. Without having to live in a constant state of awareness of everything he said and did, now, he was able to just live.
The best thing was that he could finally talk to his mother, Dianne, about everything. After growing up with a brother who suffered from a variety of mental illnesses, Michael had tried his hardest to be strong for his mother, to give her some sense of normalcy. Every decision he’d made throughout his life had, in some way, been made out of his desire to protect her, and he’d tried to explain that the evening he’d been released from the hospital, the same day the story about his ghost-talk broke.
“So, this is your big secret, huh?” she’d asked once she helped him settle back into his apartment. “Were you ever going to tell me?”
“Probably not,” he admitted. To his surprise, she smiled. She had that knowing look in her eye that all mothers seemed to get when they were having a heart-to-heart with their children.
“You know, I’ve always known,” she told him. He wasn’t sure if it was the effects of his pain medication, or the shock of his mother’s confession, but Michael was suddenly very dizzy.
“How?”
“You couldn’t have been more than four years old. You had been playing outside for hours, so I looked out to make sure you were alright. There you were, in the middle of the yard, talking to yourself. But you weren’t talking to yourself. Your eyes were fixed on something taller than you. You looked like you were listening very intently to whatever they were saying to you. When you finally came in for dinner, I asked you who you’d been talking to. You said that her name was Ruth, that she thought my garden was lovely. You also told me that her favorite flowers were the pink tulips, and that she loved to drink iced tea and catch lightning bugs after the sun went down.”
Michael was surprised to see tears shimmering in his mother’s eyes.
“Growing up, our next-door neighbor was an older woman named Ruth Rawlings,” she continued. “All of my grandparents died when I was little, so she was the closest thing to a grandmother I had. I even called her Grandma Ruth. She had the most beautiful garden, and she would always let me come over and help her tend the flowers. Whenever it got hot, she’d make up a huge pitcher of iced tea, and at night, your uncle and I would run around the garden and catch fireflies.” Dianne reached out and took Michael’s hand. “There was no way you could have known all of that unless she’d really been there.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Michael asked.
“I guess I figured if you wanted me to know, you’d eventually tell me. Though I must admit, I didn’t think I’d hear about it on the local news.”
Michael hadn’t either. But in a weird way, he was sort of relieved that he hadn’t had to be the one to tell her. He wouldn’t have known how to begin a conversation like that.
“So, that crazy girl who shot me? She did it because I can talk to ghosts.”
Yeah, he was definitely better off when somebody else did the talking. He’d never been very good at it. He hadn’t even been the one to tell Kate about the ghosts. That had been all Luke’s doing. So technically, all of this was Luke’s fault.
No, that wasn’t fair. Luke had saved his life. He couldn’t blame him for this mess. Well, he guessed he could if he really wanted to. After all, if it hadn’t been for Luke tricking Kate into talking Michael into going on that stupid ghost hunt in the first place, then they never would have even met Chastity Cannon. But that seemed a little convoluted, even to him.
Besides, he had to give Luke some credit. He’d thought that after word got out about his ability, Luke would become more insistent than ever that he make a guest appearance on Cemetery Tours, the hit paranormal investigation series that Luke hosted on The Discovery Channel. But after all the fuss had died down, Luke had returned to L.A. to begin work on the next season, with only a simple, “Remember, you’re always welcome on the show, Mikey.” No pressure. No blackmail. He hadn’t even played the I-saved-your-life-so-now-you-owe-me card.
As much as he hated to admit it, he was sort of starting to like Luke. And Cemetery Tours was actually a pretty decent show. Kate had come over and forced him to watch a few episodes while he was still recovering and he had to say, the crew caught some pretty compelling evidence. Michael even found himself almost taking Luke seriously, and that was hard to do when Luke was running around, chasing disembodied footsteps in preppy clothes that might have been cool in the sixth grade, but just looked ridiculous now. He’d asked Kate why, if Luke was so rich and successful, he couldn’t afford better clothes. She had just laughed.
Kate.
Thinking about her reminded Michael of how little he’d seen her since his recovery. He’d thought about asking her out to dinner, but he couldn’t figure out how to make it sound like he was asking her as just a friend, not as a date. Not that he would mind it if it turned into a date. He just didn’t want to pressure her for anything, especially if she wasn’t ready. He knew it might take some time, but that was alright.
She was worth the wait.
Chapter 2
It was beginning to look a lot like autumn. About time, too. It was already the second week of October. Then again, Octobers in Dallas seldom looked the way that Octobers were supposed to look. They also seldom felt it. Today was the first day of the season that the weather had been cool enough for Kate to wear jeans and a sweater. However, she’d lived in Texas long enough to know that it wouldn’t last. She’d be back in shorts and flip-flops soon, maybe even as early as later that afternoon. In Texas, you really never knew.
But at least, for the moment, she could enjoy the clear sky, the cool breeze, and the brightly colored leaves falling like rain from the trees and dancing their way around the marble headstones of Saint Paul’s Cemetery. Even though her Color Anomia made it difficult to describe the vibrant shades of the sky and the trees, it was a beautiful and peaceful setting, quiet and still. Kate knew, just from the calm atmosphere, that she was alone. There were no ghosts waiting for her in this graveyard. Not that she’d expected to encounter one, or anything unusual. Michael had told her that most ghosts didn’t hang out very much in cemeteries.
Clutching a bouquet of carrot-colored roses, she wove her way through the headstones until she reached the newer section of the graveyard, where the more recent burials had taken place. Finally, she came to a stop in front of a rather new headstone, resting beneath the shade of a small ash tree.
Trevor Joseph Hanson
Beloved Son and Friend
April 24, 1986- January 6, 2013
“Hi Trevor,” Kate whispered as she knelt down and placed the flowers against the cool, clean marble. In the past three months, Gavin had told her everything about her late fiancé, from his favorite movie (Top Gun) to the time they’d gotten lost in the London underground. Although she still had no recollection of their time together, she finally felt like she knew the man she’d been engaged to marry before a horrific car crash claimed his life and robbed her of her memories of him.
“How are you?” she asked. She knew that he had moved on, to Heaven, Nirvana, or whatever came next, but she truly believed that wherever he was, he could still hear her. “I hope you’re okay. I hope that wherever you are, you’re happy.” As she spoke, a soft breeze swept past her, toying with loose strands of hair, and she couldn’t help but feel that it was his way of telling her that he was all of those things and more. She smiled and wiped a stray tear away from her eye.
“I wish I had known more about you wh
ile you were still here. I wish that I had known what to say to you. I’m still not sure I know what to say. These last few months have been surreal. This entire year has been surreal. Between you and me, I’m kind of glad it’s almost over. Maybe next year will be a little less... confusing.
“I am excited about the holidays, though. Halloween is going to be a lot of fun. By the way, I saw that picture from last Halloween, the one where you’re Han Solo and I’m Princess Leia. I have no idea how you managed to talk me into that one. Gavin said that I agreed willingly, but I’m pretty sure I lost a bet.
“Gavin is great, by the way. He has a job now, working as a video editor for a company that shoots events like graduations and weddings. He really likes it, but some of the hours are weird. I used to think that I was the night owl of the family, but he’ll stay up until two in the morning working on a project. I guess now that he’s feeling better, he can do that sort of thing,” Kate said. “Hey, as long as he stays away from those disgusting energy drinks, he can stay up as late as he wants,” she added with a grin.
Even though the past few months had left her drained, both physically and emotionally, she was grateful for the good things, especially Gavin’s health. Not knowing the source of his frequent illness and exhaustion had been worse for her than recovering from the car accident. She could handle that herself. But she hadn’t had a clue how to take care of her brother, especially when his doctors seemed equally baffled. They’d all been completely helpless.
That is, until Michael came along. Thanks to him, Trevor had finally been able to tell Kate everything that her family had tried to keep secret from her. She understood that they had been trying to protect her, but that didn’t make up for the intense betrayal she felt at being kept in the dark. After she woke up from her coma, she’d had a hundred questions, and she had trusted her family to answer those questions honestly. Instead, they’d taken advantage of her memory loss and rewritten her past in an attempt to spare her from further heartache. In doing so, they’d angered Trevor to the point of draining Gavin of his strength and energy, leaving him ill and exhausted for months.
Between Worlds (Cemetery Tours Book 2) Page 1