Death Lies Between Us (An Angel Falls Book 1)

by Jody A. Kessler

  “Here.” He pushes the food closer to me. “Try not to think about it right now. You’ll have time to process everything later.”

  “You’re right, about both things, I don’t want to think about… her, and the food is helping.”

  I lift the small mesh basket out of my tea, capturing all the loose plant matter, and then test the temperature with a tiny sip. It’s perfect, not cold, but not too hot to swallow in gulps. I want the medicinal properties to take affect sooner than later. I drink half of the cup in three large swallows.

  “Where’s your family?” Nathan asks.

  “No idea about Jared.” I frown into my cup wishing I knew where he was and if he’s all right. Jared dislikes cops; that’s an understatement. He probably bailed on the party at the first mention of trouble. I didn’t blame him if that was the case. I despise that he’s doing drugs, but drugs and jail seem a lot worse.

  “Your brother was here. He left just before you arrived.”

  “Hmm,” I say. A million questions concerning Jared flutter on the edge of creation but not a single one is birthed into a complete thought.

  “Does anyone else live here?”

  “My mom. She’s at work.” She’s probably already heard about Ashley. “My dad, he used to live here, but he died.” I have no idea where that had risen from but out it came anyway.

  “Mine, too.” He repeats his words from earlier, but this time with an entirely different feel to them. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand why I said that.”

  “I don’t know why I said it either. I was nine when it happened.” I feel the urge to explain. “I guess I said it because Ashley is the first person I’ve known, to go, since my Dad.”

  “I was twenty-two.” His serious face is back; the telltale furrow of his brow, the sternness of his jaw, and the unmet gaze. He stares at the sliding glass door, as I had a few moments before. It becomes a black mirror at night, reflecting the distorted version of reality inside and shielding the night on the outside.

  Twenty-two, it had to be recent then. He doesn’t look much older than that now. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. Is that the death he said he has seen? I wonder.

  “I am too. And, we’re changing the subject remember? Time for processing can be later.”

  “Right,” I agree. I set the mug down and stand up. I grip the edge of the table as I teeter.

  Nathaniel places a steadying hand on my hip. “Easy there.”

  “I’m fine. My leg’s asleep that’s all.”

  “Uh-huh.” He doesn’t let go as I try to balance on one foot. “Where am I taking you?”

  His grip suggests there’s no point in arguing. “Upstairs,” I concede.

  My medicinal tea starts to work and I feel a warm fog spread from my stomach up toward my shoulders and then down my spine. Ahhh.

  Nathan picks me up again. I grumble I’m not an invalid, but he ignores me and carries me up the stairs.

  At the top I say, “Here, please.” I have to wash up and brush my teeth. Even in my foggy haze I know I’ll regret it if I don’t clean up a little.

  Skepticism plays over his features but he lowers me to standing. It tingles like crazy from my knee down, but my leg holds.

  “You don’t have to stand guard.” He’s treating me as if I’m going to break or something. How bad do I look? It must be really bad. I make a cross sign over my heart with my pointer finger; “Cross my heart….” I couldn’t finish the rest of it. I couldn’t say and hope to die, not after what happened to Ashley tonight, so I finish with, “I promise not to fall in.”

  He gives me a look that says he isn’t too sure about the prospects of my promise and then I close the door on him.

  ∞

  Nathaniel

  Woof. Overprotective guard dogs R us, I think as I stare at the closed door. What is happening to me? Get a grip already, man. The normal sounds of a drawer opening and then closing and the tap water running assure me she’s doing better. I’ve seen people in all different states of emotional and physical distress but her glazed over eyes and the slow fumbling movements of earlier had raised my alarm bells to the level of air raid sirens.

  I force myself to move away from the door. What’ll she think of me if I continue to hover? Give her some privacy, ding-dong. She thinks you’re just some regular guy. You can’t forget that.

  I decide to wait in her room, resting on the green chair. I hear every sound emanating from the house around me, especially the ones coming from the small room across the hall. I realize I’m strung tighter than piano wire with tension. I can use this time alone to try to calm down. Success on this venture eludes me. How can I de-stress when my mind goes in circles like a dog chasing its tail? What am I doing? How far can this go? Am I ultimately responsible for Ashley’s death? Is it absurd of me to jump to that conclusion? But, Ashley had been there, the first time when I helped Juliana out of the creek. Did I start some unseen chain of events affecting not only Juliana but everyone else around her? Is that possible? If so, then what could happen next?

  There seems to be no answer. The anxiety is making me feel old and at the same time like a naïve boy. Something I once heard comes to mind. Oliver Wendell Holmes, I think, “The young man knows the rules, the old man knows the exceptions.” Where does that leave me? Somewhere in the middle. Am I finding the exceptions as I go? What if my choices are the wrong ones and everyone else has to pay the price for my recklessness? It’s been over twenty years since I felt this out of control and maybe not even then. When I was still alive I was always the responsible one. Someone had to be, I couldn’t rely on my parents for anything.

  She does that to me. Being around Juliana brings out all the memories I want to forget. My alcoholic parents and all of their bad choices. I swore I would never end up like them, and I didn’t. That’s one thing I followed through on. I didn’t become a drunk. I didn’t become anything. I never got a chance to. I even mentioned him to her. My father, the cause of everything wrong in my life, and my death.

  Marcus had been there, that night, when our family chaos had peaked and then exploded into a nightmare. He helped me to see and let go as I struggled to understand. He was always there, explaining and helping me to remember and he’d been there tonight for Ashley. Or for me? A coincidence? That’s doubtful. There are no coincidences. Marcus’s faith in me tonight was almost too much. Trust yourself, you’re good at what you do, you’ll make the right decision, and so on and so forth. He wouldn’t give it to me straight; except to say the fate of Liam was a lesson to be learned by all. He wanted me to believe that my next case would be easier. Marcus wasn’t hearing that I don’t want a next case. Round and round, if I could get a hold on my damn tail then maybe I could gnaw a solution out of it.

  While I whittle away at my brains in Juliana’s armchair, one thing becomes abundantly clear, I can’t watch her die. It’s beyond my capability. I know this like I know my own name. And I know I won’t be able to prevent myself from helping her.

  With the truth acknowledged, I move on to less pressing suspicions. I want to find out if I can save myself from exerting an enormous amount of effort. I have one more experiment to try. Juliana could see me at Castle Hill without my having to manifest a physical form. I want to know if it holds true away from that odd place. If she can, then why now, and not before when I was in this room? The amount of energy it takes to hold the façade of a real body is unbelievable. It’s as exerting as bench pressing a bus. I’m testing my own endurance by keeping it up. I let go of my physical form. When she comes in, I’ll find out if she’s still able to see me.

  She’s an enigma. Tonight she’d given all her strength to a girl who had left her to freeze only a day before. There wasn’t even a hiccup of hesitation as she tried to help Ashley. She’s selfless and kind and beautiful. She alarms and excites me in all the wrong and right ways. I wish I could get to know her better. But how can that ever happen? We may as well live in different universes, our existence is so d
ifferent. What else did Marcus say? Ask for a change, hold onto what you truly want and then let Creator give it to you. Maybe I should listen to what Marcus has to say after all. I could hold onto Juliana forever if that’s what it took to know her.

  A satin gray cat interrupts my thoughts as it slinks in through the door and gives me a needed distraction. She jumps onto the bed and wanders to the end, closest to where I sit. She perches with the air of a queen and stares at me with startling green eyes. I lean far to one side and then to the other watching the cat’s eyes follow my movement. So Juliana has two things in common with this little kitty. They can both see celestial beings, and they have remarkably similar eye colors. The cat’s eyes are missing the flecks of rust and gold though.

  “Merrr,” the cat says.

  She gives me another direct stare and then stalks over to the large trunk Juliana uses for a night stand. The cat proceeds to rub herself against the knobs and buttons of the stereo. “Merrr,” she says again keeping her eyes on me.

  The cat’s meow is more of a sick moan, but I think I understand. “Good idea, little kitty.”

  I pull universal energy to myself, enough to switch on the small lamp and pick a CD I think is unobtrusive and okay for sleeping. The gray beastie rubs against my ethereal hand. “Merrr,” she says again as I load and play the disc.

  That’s the last physical manifestation I’ll make before I find out for sure about Juliana’s ability to see me. I peruse Juliana’s stacks of CDs and it gives me a warmer impression of her. We have the same taste in music. I listen to music whenever I get a chance. It helps me as much as my clients when the cases get tough. The thing is, I often get stuck listening to what my clients choose, which is a whole range of the good, the bad, and the ugly. I recognize most of what she has — all good.

  The cat seems satisfied with my choice of tunes. She hops down off the trunk and then makes herself comfortable in my chair. Not wanting to disturb the little kitty’s resting place, I sit down on the floor and lean my back against the mattresses. It’s comfortable enough. When you don’t have a body, comfort becomes more mental than physical anyway. I check the mirror on the closet door to make sure I’m not directly in front of it. I’m not ready to answer questions such as, why don’t you have a reflection?

  The bathroom door opens with a faint creak and I hear soft footsteps. She doesn’t come straight in here. I’m anxious to find out if she’ll be able to see me or not. She moves down the hall and returns a minute later.

  “Hey,” she says.

  “Feeling better?” I ask from the floor. She has no idea. She’s watching me just like before. I have to be careful she doesn’t touch me, but I can relax now that I’m not burning up so much energy. I don’t know how much more I can use before having to leave and rest again.

  “Much. Er…” She hesitates, wanting to say something, I think.

  I interrupt. “Your cat told me she wanted to listen to the stereo. I hope that’s all right.”

  “Funny isn’t she? Ariel likes music and she always gets her way.”

  “Good name. She’s interesting, and she stole my seat.” I give the cat a pointed look. She ignores me completely as she purrs to herself in a silvery ball.

  “Typical cat, takes the best seat in the house,” Juliana says while trying to stifle a yawn.

  She leans against the wall with her eyelids drooping. She needs sleep. She probably doesn’t know what to do with me. I stand up in a rush.

  “I’m not thinking straight. You need to sleep. Please.” I gesture to the bed and move toward the door. I’m in her bedroom for crying out loud. Get out of here so she can rest in peace. It’s so easy to forget simple human behaviors when you have little need of them anymore.

  “That’s what I wanted to… well, I was just going to, I mean,”

  She’s struggling to kick me out, I think. I try to ease things for her by saying, “I’m leaving. Don’t worry about anything except getting some rest.”

  “No,” she says. There’s alarm in her voice.

  That stops me. I turn to her. She stands next to the purple bed with her arms crossed and holding onto her elbows. She’s barefoot and damp and wearing sweatpants and a white tank top which are clearly too big. Her eyes are masked by those luscious black lashes as she looks down.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just; well… don’t misunderstand me, okay? But, will you stay? In here? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

  In the dim lamplight I see her cheeks flush the most tender shade of rose I’ve ever seen. “Yeah, whatever you need.” My voice comes out thick with emotion. I mean it; I’ll do anything for her. Way more than I’m obligated to do and way more than I can understand. I want to stay worse than I’ve ever wanted anything. She can see me and talk to me and she’s alive, not another one of us. It’s the first time this has happened for me. Other people who have seen or sensed my presence are always wary or afraid, just look at Chris’s reaction.

  “I can make you a bed on the floor. We have an air mattress somewhere.”

  She’s watching my reaction now. “No, I’ll be fine in the chair, or the floor.” I say, looking at Ariel. “I’m happy to be here, with you. Really. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

  She bends over the trunk next to the bed and lights a maroon candle. She flips the lamp off. “Too bright,” she whispers. Then she climbs under her covers and pulls them tight up to her chin.

  I move back to where I had been sitting and lean against the bed.

  She curls up on her side and asks, “Nathan?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “How did you know this was my favorite CD to fall asleep to?”

  “I didn’t.”

  I watch the candle flame flicker and wave in time with the slow chants and the subtle and melodic guitar rhythms of the songs. It’s soothing and meditative and I begin to put all of my worries far away and just be here, in this small room with a beautiful girl who needs me.

  The silence has been long and steady and I think she must be near to sleep when I hear her take a deep breath.

  “I can’t stop worrying about my brother,” she whispers. “I don’t want to believe he would choose to ruin his life.”

  “Can you tell him how it makes you feel?”

  “I can, but will it make any difference? I’ve heard meth changes people. And after he lied to me tonight, I believe it. Things are going so well for him right now, why would he mess everything up by shooting up drugs? It’ll kill him, maybe not tonight, but someday. It happens all the time to people you would never think it could happen to.”

  The pain coming out of her is enough to rip me apart. Rip open things I’ve buried. “I know it could.” I admit the truth in her words. There’s no use in denying it. “My parent’s deaths weren’t drug related, but it’s pretty much the same. It was alcohol for them.”

  I never talk about that night, mainly because I died the same night trying to save my mother from my father’s drunken rage, and when you’re dead you have limited people to confide in.

  “Both of them? That’s… I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right. If that night never happened then I wouldn’t be here now and I would never have met you.” I have told so many grieving people similar words and now, finally, it rings true. I believed the words before and I believe there’s a purpose for all things, and all people, but now I can see my life led me to my death, which led me to this very moment, and it’s all with purpose. I instantly understand my own beliefs on a new level. It feels as if a light bulb was lit in part of me I didn’t even know existed.

  “If that’s true; our past experiences lead up to our future ones, and it’s all meant to be, then Jared’s shooting up drugs was destined to happen?” She ends on a confused note.

  “No. I think we get to make our own decisions in life, for good or for bad. He doesn’t have to do drugs but he’ll have to face what that brings into his life. And then he’ll get to learn lessons from the experience he may never
find anywhere else.”

  “It’s a bad decision. There has to be another way to learn.”

  “I agree, but you can’t force people into doing what you think is best for them.” I pause, remembering my own circumstances. “I watched my parents drown themselves in drink. The worst part was, they knew they were hurting me, and they still wouldn’t stop.” The words were flowing out of me. I don’t know if my story can help Juliana but it felt like a faucet had just been turned on and the knob broken off.

  “I tried to stop them from drinking once I became old enough to realize it was the alcohol ruining our lives. I begged at first, and then I threw all the bottles away, but it didn’t change anything.”

  Juliana stays quiet behind me so I continue. “My mom acted like she wanted to give it up, but my father drank religiously. He was also in denial about it. I went to her and tried to convince her how horrible it was and how terrible my father was to her and me. When I discovered she was just better at hiding her problem, then I knew there was no hope. I was alone and I needed to get out. I figured an education was a sure bet.”

  Why am I telling her all of it? I look over my shoulder to see if she’s still awake. Green emeralds meet my own. I have one foot in… The next part is harder for me to find the words.

  “I lived with them so I could afford college and not have a huge amount of debt. One night, like most nights, I was studying in my room. I heard the usual screaming and slamming of doors when they were really drunk and fighting. It was louder than normal so I turned up my radio and hoped he would either leave or go pass out. He didn’t. I heard his feet stomping down the hall and then my door slammed open. His eyes were out of focus and he was staggering but he managed to grab me by the arm. I don’t know why I didn’t fight him. I guess it’s because he had never forced me up like that before. He dragged me to the kitchen. My mom was there, she was red-eyed and miserable. I looked to her for some hint of what was going on but she was frozen in fear. I didn’t understand why they were involving me until my dad yelled.