Joy stood to her feet and shuffled in a line behind her parents, following the casket down the aisle. How many times had Grandpa walked that aisle in his life? She’d always thought he’d watch her walk down this very aisle on her dad’s arm one day.
Only five days before, he’d exited the church down that very same aisle. Had he known? What if he’d carried the knowledge of his impending departure with him for days? Weeks? Months? Would he have done anything differently? Or had he lived with no regrets? Yeah. That was Grandpa. No regrets.
With Silas right by her leg, Joy stood next to her mom on one side and Stella on the other at the snowy graveside while Dad stood with the other men around the casket.
Daddy. His face was drawn, pale. He’d soon be walking away from his rock and his best friend … forever. Would this change him? Maybe he’d try to relax, work less, and be home more. But Joy wouldn’t be there with him.
Grandpa. Her throat clogged as the pastor read from his Bible. Joy would never see him again. He’d never know if she managed to get her life together. The last time he’d seen her, she was shaking her head, telling her parents and Mark that she couldn’t let go. He took the memory of that disappointment to the grave. And Joy had to live with the memory.
Hopefully he could see her now. If Melanie could see her and Grandma had been with her that one night, maybe he could. Then again, maybe it was like Ben said. It was all demonic, and they weren’t real manifestations of the people. If it wasn’t real, then maybe Grandpa couldn’t see. She may never know the truth.
She shook her head. None of it mattered. Her goal had to be that she would meet him one day in eternity. She had to make that happen. She had to find a way.
Stella snaked her hand around Joy’s arm and clutched her fingers. It had to be so difficult for her to stand at the grave of her beloved husband and watch him being buried beside his first wife. How uncomfortable, humiliating, and devastating this day must be for her. She could have fought back and gotten a different gravesite. She was his wife, after all. But thank goodness she hadn’t.
Joy squeezed her hand and put an arm around Mom as the service headed toward a close. Those who wanted to bent to scoop up some dirt and drizzle it on the casket. Joy couldn’t do it.
Pastor Scott raised his eyes toward heaven. “Father, thank You for this life, thank You for Jonathan Christianson, and for allowing him to touch so many countless souls with the truth of Your Gospel. Let each of us live as a legacy to his heart. Let our own hearts continue to beat with the passion he had for knowing You and making You known.” He looked at Joy and caught her gaze before she could glance away. “And if there is one among us who has not surrendered to You, Holy Spirit, in honor of the legacy of Jonathan Christianson, let that heart turn to You.”
Joy’s knees wobbled.
Silas moved in closer and pressed hard against Joy’s leg.
The tug-of-war over her soul raged on. And on.
Church potluck? Really? What a cruel thing to do to a family. Drag them through their darkest moment and then drop them into a party where they were meant to be the hosts. Time was, Joy loved a good party—not anymore. Too much attention, too many expectations.
“Mom?” Joy interrupted the silent drive from the cemetery to the church.
“Hmm?”
“Would you mind if I just jumped out as you passed by the house? I’m not in a very social mood.” That was like saying Paige McNichols had made a buck or two in Hollywood.
Mom whipped around. “What? No! You can’t mean that. Your family needs you…. We need each other. It’s important.”
“Okay, sorry I asked.” Sheesh.
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to jump on you. Honestly, I think we’d all prefer a nap and some quiet today. But this luncheon is an important part of the grieving process.”
Joy nodded. She didn’t see how, but whatever.
“Besides, sweetie. Beatrice needs you there.”
That did it. “Okay. You’re right. How is she?”
“She’s taking it pretty hard. Sue didn’t think she could handle the funeral. But she’ll be at the potluck because we figured it wouldn’t be as sad of an event.”
Total mistake, not that they asked Joy. Bea loved Grandpa and needed closure just like everyone else. They assumed she didn’t understand, but that girl saw more than they realized.
And since when was sad a bad thing? Of course Beatrice would grieve … she already was grieving. And now she was left out, too.
Yeah. She needed Joy.
The car stopped in the church parking lot, and they climbed out. Just take a deep breath. You’ll be fine, and then it’ll be over.
People dressed in their Sunday best overflowed the fellowship hall. As the Christiansons arrived they parted like the Red Sea in front of Moses.
Turn polite on autopilot. Joy plastered a smile on her face. Not too big of a grin—don’t want those people to think she was cold and unfeeling. But big enough they’d think she was poised, mature, and friendly. Perfect. Now where was Bea?
Joy moved in line slowly with her partitioned cardboard plate and can of Dr Pepper. She passed the Jell-O, homemade macaroni salad, store-bought potato salad, and all sorts of one-dish wonders brought in by the church ladies.
She added a small spoonful of whatever, just so people wouldn’t bother her to eat. If she went the rest of her life without someone telling her she needed to eat, she’d be thrilled.
“Bea?” Joy spoke across the table. “Do you need some help?”
“Nope. I’m good.” Beatrice chewed on her tongue as she concentrated on making room for a little bit of everything.
Where was Stella? Joy searched the room. Oh, there, all alone at the table in the center of the room, right where Mom had parked her when they arrived. Poor Stella. She’d been going downhill all day. The songs had long since disappeared, so had her smile. She seemed to have given up trying to be positive.
Would she make it through? Maybe she needed to eat. There was no plate in front of her. Was Mom getting it? Joy looked up and down the buffet line. Nope.
Well, Joy’d just make up the plate in her hand for Stella. She added a roll, pat of butter, little bit of green bean casserole, then took the last two deviled eggs off the serving dish. She could get away with it. They were Stella’s favorite.
“Hey Bea?”
Beatrice looked up with a scowl at being interrupted.
“I’m taking this plate over to Stella. Come sit by me when you’re done, okay?”
Bea’s eyes brightened. “Okay. Save me a seat. I might be a minute—need more eggs.” She held up the empty platter.
Oops. “Okay. No problem.” Joy hurried to Stella and slid into the chair across from her. Joy slid the plate toward her. “Here, eat something.”
“Oh baby, I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m hungry or if I’ll ever be hungry.” She dropped her head into her hands. “What have I done?”
Joy rubbed her forearm. “What do you mean? You haven’t done anything. But you have to keep up your strength.” Joy almost chuckled, and she heard the countless concerns voiced by people who’d wanted her to eat over the past few months come from her own mouth. Ironic.
Stella picked up the fork and lifted a bite of green bean casserole to her mouth. Her face showed no emotion.
“There. That’s something. How about some bread?” Joy reached for the roll and lifted the butter with the knife.
“No. No.” Stella batted her hands away. “Help me.” Stella stared down at her plate.
“I’m trying to. Want me to cut up your meat?”
A single tear dripped onto Stella’s egg. “Not what I mean.”
“What then? What can I help with?” Was Stella having a nervous breakdown? Should Joy call a doctor?
“I need help. I need to talk to Pastor Scott. He’s right about it all. I wish I’d never …”
Joy nodded then searched for Silas. He wasn’t there, at least that she could see.
Stella locked eyes with Joy. “I’m scared. Will you get the pastor? Right now. Please hurry.”
Joy saw stark terror in Stella’s eyes. What was she so afraid of? “I’ll be right back.” She stepped back from the table.
Stella groaned. “Never mind. I can’t do it.” She waved with a trembling hand.
Joy stopped midstep. “What? What do you mean?”
“I know you don’t understand. I’m really scared. I need to … I can’t get out.” Stella’s hands shook as they twisted the napkin Joy had set before her.
Oh boy. Joy knew exactly what Stella meant. “Do you want out?” They locked eyes.
Stella closed her eyes for a moment then nodded, her shoulders sagging.
Time to move fast. They needed reinforcements. “Then you stay right here. I’ll be right back.” Joy backed away, her eyes locked on Stella. She looked away and moved toward the pastor who stood on the other side of the room talking with Dad. He would know what to do.
But where was Silas? Where had he taken off to?
Joy looked out on the group of people. Her vision grew fuzzy as new images crowded the old. She sniffed. What was that stench? It was rotten—like the smell in Raven’s room that day—only magnified times one thousand. It smelled like Hell.
Fear gripped Joy as she looked on a room full of oblivious people with a layer of the spirit world draped right over them. A different dimension existing in and among them as they chatted and ate from their foam plates.
Joy was ripped from the present flesh, from existing in that room with them, as one of them, to hovering between the flesh and the spirit and watching both at the same time. Between the real and the spiritual. Or maybe it was all equally real.
A vicious battle raged in the space around Stella’s body. On the outside, she looked mostly normal—like a widow. But in the spirit, Stella was being ravaged from all sides.
How could she not feel the vile creatures clawing at her? They whispered lies into her ear and shouted insults at her body.
“You’re worthless.”
“You shouldn’t be allowed to live.”
“He’s with his better wife.”
“That preacher was wrong.”
But bright beings, though fewer in number and in a weakened state, spoke truth.
“You’re beautiful.”
“Jesus loves you.”
“You’re an amazing, worthwhile creation of God.”
Listen to them, Stella. Listen to the good voices. By why were there so few? And why were they losing? They were batted away or pummeled by the evil spirits whenever one got too close to Stella. Yet they persisted.
Stella took a bite of egg. Trying to look normal, though Joy watched her hands shake. Her head lifted, and she searched for Joy, her eyes wild with fear.
Blood flowed in the battle for Stella’s soul. Good had taken blow after blow. Powerful, mighty angels, like those she’d seen in the prayer room at Diamond Estates, fell to the ground in defeat.
Evil grew and its strength intensified as Stella pulled at Joy’s consciousness from the flesh. “Never mind. I changed my mind.”
“No!” Joy shouted to Stella. “Fight back.”
No one in the room flinched at the sound of Joy’s screams that merely blended in with the battle cries filling the room. Were her shouts audible to Stella?
Was Joy destined to watch this war until its bitter end? How to get a message to Stella? If only she’d fight.
The remaining warriors, with their vicious faces, glistening with sweat and blood, parted and bowed their heads.
What was happening? Joy frantically searched the air, looking for the head demon.
Joy gasped.
With slow, regal steps, the grandest, most beautiful tiger Joy could ever remember seeing approached Stella. He watched her spirit weep and tremble. The gleam in his eyes revealed the pleasure he took in her misery.
The tiger circled Stella like stalking its prey. Could she see him?
With all of its muscular glory, the tiger reared back and roared inches from Stella’s ear. Her hair waved in the breeze from the tiger’s breath. Couldn’t Stella hear that?
But she didn’t move. No one noticed.
Joy lifted her foot, but couldn’t. She was paralyzed in-between.
Stella locked eyes with Joy and shook her head. “Never mind, Joy. I didn’t mean it.”
But she had meant it. Joy saw the truth in her eyes when she’d asked for help. Would they leave her alone if she backed down? Exactly what Joy had been trying to do.
Stella lifted the deviled egg to her mouth, and she took another bite, pretending all was fine. Unaware of the bloodthirsty predator at her back. Stella’s eyes flew open. She shook her head.
The tiger crouched low to the floor then leaped with a mighty roar. It dove for her neck and sank his long teeth into her artery.
Stella grabbed her throat, coughing, gagging, her eyes wild with pain and fear.
“Someone help her. She’s choking.”
“Anyone know the Heimlich maneuver?”
“Pound on her back.”
Sue rushed to Stella’s side and slipped her arms around from behind. She squeezed with all her might.
The tiger didn’t let go. Blood and saliva dripped from his mouth. He twisted his head and clamped tighter one last time with his powerful jaws.
Sue squeezed again, short, tight bursts against Stella’s sternum. “Maybe we need someone stronger over here. Has anyone called 911?”
Stella locked eyes with Joy.
In one world, the tiger let go, and Stella slumped to the spiritual earth in a pool of her own blood.
In the other world, Stella fell into her chair, clutching her throat as she convulsed.
A plate of deviled eggs clattered to the floor.
Bea covered her mouth and screamed.
Chapter 38
That’s it. That’s it. That’s it. Joy searched for the quickest way out that would require her to plow down the fewest people. Joy took one last look at Stella then shifted her gaze to Beatrice being ushered out the side door by her mom and a few of the aproned church ladies. No one was looking at Joy. It was now or never.
She speed walked to the fellowship hall entry then bolted down the hallway and up the stairs toward the front doors. She tumbled against the crash bar, threw the doors open, then ran across the parking lot. Her legs pumped, and her chest heaved as she sprinted toward nowhere.
Silas stayed right at her heels. Joy glanced back every few seconds to make sure he wasn’t getting angry, but he simply ran. Anyway, if he were chasing her, it would have been over by then.
She could never turn back to God. All Stella had done was look toward Jesus. That was it. And it cost her life in the most vicious way Joy could imagine.
Joy was guilty of the same search. She’d experienced the same longing. But she had to put that out of her mind for good now, or the same thing would happen to her. She’d already had some close calls. No, she could never go back.
But where could she go? She ran past Hoke’s. No, they’d look for her there. She passed the street to Melanie’s house. Mom said Maggie had moved. The memories must have become too much for her. Joy would have moved, too. In fact, she had.
She could go to Austin’s, but he played too much by the book. He wouldn’t turn her away, but he’d turn her in. No. Worse than that. He’d convince her to turn herself in.
A fugitive running from everyone, hiding both flesh and spirit.
She came to a stop on a familiar patch of sidewalk and looked up at the movie theater marquee. Why not? It sure wouldn’t solve all her problems and she couldn’t live there, but it would buy her a couple of hours to sort out what she could.
Let’s see … what was playing? Anything lighthearted, a little funny. Nothing heavy, scary, or sad. Ever again.
Joy bought her ticket and entered the theater. She picked her favorite seat, three quarters of the way to the left and three quarters of t
he way back.
What was she going to do?
One part of her screamed to try to fight her way out. The survivalist in her demanded that she find a way. That there had to be someone out there who could help her. She wasn’t the first person to go through something like this, and she wouldn’t be the last one. It had been going on since Bible times, and it would continue on forever.
Why couldn’t she talk to someone she trusted and just turn the whole thing over? She could say, “Here, Ben or Mom or Ginny. This is what’s going on with me. I’m scared. I need help.” And then sit back and let the help come. But she’d never do it because they’d all be at risk, too. No matter how many times Joy tried to devise a new scenario, she arrived back at the same conclusion.
And the fatalist inside her brain simply laughed at the survivalist.
The credits rolled, and the lights came up.
She watched people gather their empty popcorn buckets and cups of soda and shuffle out of their seats, squinting as their eyes adjusted to the light.
Time for her to go, too. But where could she go that she wouldn’t be putting others at risk? Best to just watch another movie, buy a couple more hours. She gathered her things to move to another theater, maybe something a little longer.
“Joy?”
“Mom?” Joy spun around. “How did you find me?”
Silas appeared under Joy’s feet.
“Oh, a little birdie told me where you might be. Even the seat you’d have chosen.” She offered a worn smile.
Joy nodded. Austin. “Did he come to the funeral?”
“No, I went to his house. He’s worried about you.”
“Yeah.”
Mom took a step closer. “Why did you run?”
“I just can’t face any more, Mom. Death and loss, the fear. I’m tired of being afraid. I just needed a break.”
She nodded. “Makes perfect sense to me.” She moved in one more step. Like she was cornering a skittish rabbit. “Tell me. What can I do for you? How can I help you?”
THE SHADOWED ONYX: A DIAMOND ESTATES NOVEL Page 26