Desert Son Trilogy: Desert Son, Wayward Soul, Spiritual Intervention (Books 1-3)

by Glenn Maynard

  They now had a major quandary, which was somewhat of a rarity since making this home again, and there was a slight problem with the way they were going about this dilemma. This was the true reason why Carter balked when Brenda ran into the sign for the psychic.

  “I thought we had agreed to never go down that road again,” Carter finally mustered as they sat together on the love seat in the living room of their home. “We had decided that no good would ever come from revisiting our past.”

  Brenda shifted her body up and down on the couch as she turned to Carter. “I know that we agreed to put our past life to rest and forge a new life after the days of Martin, but I just wanted to innocently find out about our future, and not necessarily our past.” Back went Brenda’s hair. This was a telltale sign that she was under duress. “Believe me, I didn’t want to go there again either, but now we almost have to. I don’t know, though.”

  “Damn right we have to go there,” said Carter. “At the same time, I’m frightened about what we might find. I mean, we have to pursue this. I’ll be honest with you, Brenda, I’m really concerned about Angie’s reaction when she grabbed our hands and looked at you the way she did. It could be both of us, but I love you so much that I don’t know what I would do if I ever were to lose you. I don’t mean to get all sapped out on you, but you’re truly my soul mate, and I’ll do anything to make sure that you’re okay.”

  “I know we learned that we have to pursue any and all signs, but I really don’t know, Carter. I don’t know if I have the energy for this one, but the truth is… we’re past the point of no return.”

  There was not a sound in the house as they both pondered this new turn in their lives. They knew that opening up another can of worms could be gruesome, but it was Carter who believed more so that they needed to pursue Angie’s secret. It would be another day before they could try for answers again. Angie may still be in a coma, but they needed a game plan whether she was in the coma or out of the coma.

  “Do you think there’s any possibility of reaching Angie if she is still in a coma tomorrow?” Carter asked. “There’s a strong possibility she was aware of our presence there by her bedside. I’ve been in that very position. Maybe we can somehow… ask her… why she ran out on us like that. Do you think there’s a snowball’s chance that she’ll let us know… or even remember us?”

  “I’m not sure if that will be too much for her in the state she’s in,” said Brenda, “but we need to find out before it’s too late. We didn’t have much luck today, but let’s go there tomorrow, and if she is still in a coma, we’ll ask the question in the room again and see if she answers or indicates in some way or another.”

  Carter looked at Brenda strangely. “Some way or another? What do you mean by answering us in some way or another?”

  “I don’t know, Carter, maybe we ask her certain questions and ask her to make some knocking noise… once for yes and twice for no. I’m just thinking out loud here.”

  “How ‘bout… knock three times on the ceiling if you want me?”

  “Let me guess… twice on the pipe? Carter, get serious,” said a frustrated Brenda. “Don’t be an asshole.”

  “Kidding,” said Carter. “I just can’t help myself sometimes… when the setup is so perfect.”

  “Well, I’m not so sure you should be joking about this just yet. Angie probably won’t think it’s funny if she heard that, and you want answers from her?”

  Carter’s complexion changed when Brenda said that. He began thinking back at the range that he had during his out-of-body experience, and a couple of cheap wise cracks may not sit too well with Angie, especially if they were indeed responsible for putting Angie where she is presently. After all, she was just an innocent psychic trying to make a buck. She did not wish for things to happen the way they had, so Carter decided that he should try to be more respectful as far as Angie is concerned. He knew that anything less than that could mean that it might not end well for them.

  “We need to ask questions that require yes or no answers,” said Brenda. “She won’t be able to elaborate on why she ran out of the house, but maybe we can ask questions such as Did you run away because of a reading that you got… having to do with our past? or Did you run away because of a reading that you got having to do with our future? Something like that, or whether it was just me that she saw as having a horrific future.”

  Carter perked up with this glimmer of progress. “Maybe we should ask her something about Martin… whether she knew him or not. Maybe ask her if she knew my parents, Alexandra or Darren, or even Martin’s wife, Shirley.”

  “These are very good questions that we will write down,” said Brenda, “so we have them on hand should we need to read them to her.”

  They gathered a pen and a piece of paper, and began writing down yes or no questions for when they attempted to communicate with Angie. Sure, they knew it was a shot in the dark, but who the hell would have thought Carter’s stint above the clouds would ever be a reality. Carter certainly didn’t.

  He no longer believed that things were impossible. He believed that if something didn’t work, then keep trying until you’re satisfied, and that was certainly the case with trying to get answers out of someone in a coma. There was no doubt in his mind that it could be done, even if ‘could’ was the operative word here.

  Brenda knew that the possibility existed in theory, since all of her time with her ex-boyfriend, Reggie and his otherworldly beliefs were still ingrained in her. That, together with what she and Carter had gone through with his out-of-body experience, and their past-life regression and reincarnation made nothing too otherworldly for this couple. The next day could not come too soon.

  There were millions of paranormal stories out there in all shapes and sizes, and they weren’t all the work of overactive imaginations. There had to be truth to some of them. Even if Carter’s story was the only real-life case, then that was certainly enough for him to work with. He just needed to believe in himself. He believed in Brenda. He always believed in Brenda and had full confidence in following her lead. She was very wise and rarely wrong. Call it woman’s intuition. Call it pure intelligence. But don’t call it luck, because it happened far too often.

  When the morning sun hit Carter in the eyes from the east window, he got out of bed and quietly made his way out of the bedroom so he wouldn’t wake his sleeping beauty. He passed through the bedroom door with his clothes in his hand and made his way into the hallway.

  “Start the coffee,” he heard Brenda call out in a scratchy morning voice as her words hit him in the back of his ears.

  “I’m on it,” Carter replied. He never could be quiet enough for Brenda, and always joked that she would wake up if she heard him reading.

  Soon the belching and burping of the coffee pot pierced the morning silence, and Carter and Brenda sat at the kitchen table sipping coffee and reading the paper. Bacon and eggs snapped away in adjacent pans. They usually cooked a big breakfast on Sundays. It was Saturday, but Carter anticipated a long day at the hospital, so they cooked it a day early and the rest was history snapping away in a pan.

  “I know that we have put our past to rest for the four years since the days of Martin,” Brenda began, “but now that we are being reintroduced to it, I think it might be healthy to talk about it now that it’s back. I mean, after all, it’s our past… it’s a part of us and always will be. We don’t have to have that define us, but maybe we should… on occasion… revisit it. It could be a sign… maybe even a sign from Angie. Consider it a healthy release, like letting some air out of the tires.”

  “Wow,” Carter replied, “you’ve really done an about-face in your thinking. I don’t know… yet a part of me agrees with you. Then again, I agreed when you wished to put everything in the past.
I guess I just always agree with you, Brenda, whether you want to cover up or dig up. Maybe that’s our secret weapon as a couple… just agree with you.”

  Brenda smiled as she got up from the table and kissed Carter on the top of the head. “That’s why I love you so much, Carter.” She moved over to the stove and flipped the bacon, then the eggs, and put the four pieces of toast down in the four-slice toaster. “I feel like there’s more to our story. Otherwise, why would we be on another wild goose chase like the one we’re on? There’s got to be some meaning behind this. We were in the clear for four years, but were we really?”

  Carter shifted uncomfortably as he began to remember the days of Martin. “That damn old man is probably still alive. He was about 85-percent cooked when we left him off in the desert, and I’m confident that nobody found him. Otherwise, we would have heard something in the news and the authorities most certainly would have appeared at our door.”

  “He’s long gone,” said Brenda. “It was a 110-degree day. He pretty much slid out of the car and landed face down in the dust. We passed coyotes nearby and the vultures were circling. I think it’s safe to say that he has passed. Thankfully he led the life of a recluse. He was missing and nobody in the world noticed or seemed to care.”

  “I agree. I don’t have any doubts about Martin, but maybe there’s another connection that we overlooked. What could possibly have freaked her out in such a way? I really have to believe that maybe she got a glimpse of our past and not our future. That would be enough to make anyone’s hair stand on end. Our story is not exactly the script from Cinderella.”

  Brenda placed the plate of over-easy eggs, bacon and toast in front of Carter, and then returned with a plate for herself. “I’m confident that we will do the right thing,” she said. “Maybe we need to poke around a little more. Maybe we need to uncover something else. I mean… we haven’t really torn apart Martin’s bedroom. We convinced ourselves that we received all of the answers that we needed, but maybe the psychic was trying to tell us that we by no means have. Maybe we’ve only scratched the surface.”

  “That’s a harsh reality,” Carter replied, before shoving a piece of bacon into his mouth. “You could be onto something, though. I think it’s time to dig around this old house again. I’m sure there’s more, but back then… I too didn’t think it was necessary to get more. I think perhaps Angie has given us a warning sign, and if we can’t get it from her, maybe we just keep thinking along these lines… poking around and discovering new things. That may be the only way we get it.”

  After breakfast, deciding that 24 hours and the next day were one and the same, off they went to the hospital. They did not have time to spare, and both of them had the day off from work. They passed through the doors of the ICU before noon and were given the okay to spend a few minutes with Aunt Angie. The doctors explained that she was again stable, but her chances of coming out of the coma had not changed from the 50/50 prognosis the day before. They moved through the doors to the ICU and then through the door to where Angie resided.

  Carter looked at Angie, who seemingly did not even stir since last they viewed her shell. The hookups were exactly the same through every orifice, and her face seemed at rest, stress-free, but still swollen. When the doctor left the room to give Carter and Brenda some time alone to be with their loved one, they knew that they had to get started and only had a few minutes with which to work. Brenda extracted the list of questions from her purse and immediately began firing away.

  “Angie… if you can hear me… make it known by making something in the room move.” She stepped back from the bed and watched nothing transpire. All that could be heard was the intermittent beeping thrown their way by the machines keeping her alive. Her facial expression didn’t move. “Angie,” she tried again, “move a finger if you can hear me.” She stepped back again before realizing that Angie’s arms were under a white sheet, but then there was an ever so slight rise coming from underneath the sheet where her hands rested.

  “Did you see that, Brenda?” Carter exclaimed.

  “Shhh,” she replied. “It’s too small of an impact to really know. Angie, if you can hear us… move your finger up and down twice.”

  They both stared at the sheet where they believed her hands to be, but nothing happened.

  “Angie, we need to know if you can hear us,” said Brenda. “We need you to move your head or make two movements anywhere, or even two bangs.”

  They looked around, but saw and heard nothing, and their window was now closed as the nurse came in and advised them that their time was up and they had to let Angie rest. They were ushered from the room, but Carter looked back one last time before they passed through the door, and saw the sheet rise up ever so slightly… twice, he thought.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It’d been four years since the occupancy of the old white house in Boulder, Colorado changed hands, but the remix was somewhat the same. In fact, there was never a need to notify any city offices of any changes from the time Martin and Shirley roamed the halls to the time that only Martin roamed the halls, and many years beyond that time. As far as Boulder was concerned, nothing ever changed here.

  Carter and Brenda were able to live in that secluded old white house pretty much rent free. Sure, there were bills to be paid and taxes on the house, but Martin had paid off the mortgage. Brenda acted on behalf of Shirley as she made sure the electric, heat, phone and cable bills were paid. In fact, Shirley was never late on any payments, so therefore Brenda would not likely be either. It may have been an inherited gene. Nothing ever changed.

  Take the mortgage tax bill, for instance. The taxes were always mailed in on an annual basis, and the checks were always written on Martin and Shirley’s checking account. There was never a need to change even the checking account. Besides, if the house was in Martin and Shirley’s name, it would be a lot cleaner if the annual tax payments were drafted against an account with Martin and Shirley’s name on the checks. The City of Boulder cared about getting the money, but not from whom they got it, but why take a chance? As far as Boulder was concerned, Martin and Shirley were very much alive.

  Martin and Shirley were able to accumulate over $15,000 in savings over their lifetime, and their life insurance policies were never cashed in because the insurance company didn’t know they were dead. Carter and Brenda thought it would only be fair and perhaps justice for themselves that they keep the jig going and make like Martin and Shirley were very much homeowners alive and well.

  As for employment, Carter and Brenda were able to secure part-time jobs just to keep the charade going for as long as they could. They really didn’t need jobs, but their pot of gold with which to work would go that much further. That’s why Carter took on some extra work during the busy tax season. He only agreed to the lower-than-normal wage since it was not a fulltime job and because the accountant agreed to pay him under the table. Brenda assisted a Polish woman with her housecleaning service, and that was an under-the-table agreement as well. The only thing they did on top of the table was eat.

  The two paychecks were cash transactions, so Carter and Brenda were able to remain under the radar. That was exactly how they liked it. The two paychecks were swallowed by the utilities and other day-to-day expenditures, but Martin’s account tackled the tax payment, which would wrestle away $1000 per year. It wasn’t going to stay fat forever without being fed, so they needed to think about their financial health soon, and make a plan for the future. They couldn’t assume the identities of Martin and Shirley forever.

  They also had a house in Boston, Massachusetts to think about. It wasn’t paid for like the house in Boulder, but Carter’s good friend Charlie needed a place to live with his girlfriend, Cynthia. They had volunteered to take over that small mortgage and live there until Carter decided what to do with it. However,
a wrinkle in this plan came in the form of a letter from Charlie, stating that he was getting married, and his fiancée wanted out. She didn’t want out right away, but with the new marriage life, she apparently wanted a place for them to call their own.

  Cynthia was able to bear living there while she was dating him, but her upgraded status gave her “greater say in the matter.” That’s what she told Charlie. It was only March, but the quick wedding was scheduled for June, so Carter and Brenda had three months to figure it out. He couldn’t stop thinking that the letter instead of a phone call was so not like Charlie. She must have changed him.

  Brenda had the stack of bills on the kitchen table, and she had Martin’s checkbook to absorb them. They deposited their cash into this checking account so that they could at least take care of the smaller payments. She slapped the last envelop down on the stack of others as a sign that this bill-paying task had been completed.

  “Damn,” she said to Carter. “The money goes in and the money goes out. This account is getting smaller. We still have some breathing room, but it could sure use some more muscle. There’s more money going out than there is going in.”

  Carter was watching a rerun of “The Munsters” and took a moment to answer. “What was that, hon?”

  “Oh, I was just saying that the account is getting a little low. Our bills are getting bigger and our paydays are not absorbing them like they used to. We might need to come up with a plan in the near future… that’s all.”