by J. S. Bailey
Jessica finally found a job opening at a local bank four months ago and got hired on as a teller. It was boring work making deposits and withdrawals for people all day, but at least it was something to do. It had also helped her reconstruct The Plan. Now, instead of saving up money for school, she simply put the money into their nest egg account for a rainy day. Maybe someday she would think of something to go to school for. But for the time being, she would just enjoy life and improve her cooking skills so Wayne wouldn’t be forced to make his own food every night of the week.
Besides, maybe she and Wayne would have a child, too. Being a mother was bound to be a full-time job in itself.
And speaking of mothers, Jessica had forced herself to spend more time with Maria, and Stephen, too; though at times their conversations grew awkward. She would never be able to look at either of them again without thinking about what Maria did to Jerry.
Little by little, Jessica learned how Rich and Joanna Zimmerman, the so-called Satanists, had become involved in Jerry’s murder.
“I knew what they were,” Maria had said. “I wanted to report them, but I had no proof other than what someone had told me. But the day that Sarah died, Joanna came over and told me what she’d seen. She said she’d help us out. Her husband was a police officer and would help cover up Jerry’s disappearance if anyone came looking for him.”
Jessica filled in the rest of the story on her own. She did an Internet search on the couple to see if they still lived nearby but came up with nothing. Were they dead? There was no way to know. It was probably better that way.
In the present, Wayne paused in his speech.
“Bored yet?” she asked him.
He shifted uneasily in the chair. “No.”
“Nervous?”
“Maybe.”
She laughed. “There’s nothing to get worked up about.” After all they’d been through, nothing should have been able to scare them ever again.
“I don’t want any of them to sneak up on me,” he said.
“Boo.”
“Ha ha.”
Jessica grinned. “We should probably get back on track.” To the room’s unseen occupants, she said, “We really do want to help you. If you’re still here on earth, it means you have another chance. You don’t have to suffer forever. God is waiting for you to come home to heaven where you belong.”
“What about me?” said an all-too-familiar voice to her left. Wayne swore. He picked up the flashlight he’d set beside him and shined the beam in the direction of the voice. The beam illuminated a black-clad figure sitting Indian-style on the floor.
Wayne leapt up so quickly that he started to lose his balance and held out a hand to brace himself against the wall.
The scene was so funny that Jessica couldn’t help but laugh. “Wayne, cool it,” she said. “It’s him.”
Wayne sank back into the chair, not taking his eyes off of the apparition. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
Jerry made a show of glancing around the unfinished basement. “Not much.” He looked at Jessica. “Why is it that you act like you care about others in my position when you never found yourself capable of forgiving me for what I did to your family?”
His accusation startled her. “I didn’t?”
“When I asked you that night in the woods, all you said was that I made forgiveness sound easy.”
He was right about that. “I had just found out that you killed my sister all because you thought Abigail had killed your baby. Of course I didn’t forgive you then.”
“Can you forgive me now?”
That’s all he wanted? “Of course I forgive you. I decided to do that ages ago.” It had taken much prayerful reflection on her part, but eventually she had come to accept that Jerry was just as flawed and in need of forgiveness as any other human being—including herself. Especially herself.
It was one of the most difficult things she had ever done.
His eyes widened. “You do? You never said…” He shook his head in wonder and turned to Wayne. “And can you forgive me for not being there? For not tracking Abigail down and saving you?”
Wayne nodded. His knuckles on the hand gripping the flashlight were turning white.
“Say it.”
“I—I forgive you. None of that was your fault, though. You didn’t know I was alive, so you had no reason to track my mother down.”
Jerry shook his head. “I didn’t try hard enough.”
“You’re only human!”
“Unfortunate, isn’t it?” He winked and turned back to Jessica. “Please tell your family that I forgive them for what they did to me. I hope that someday they’ll be able to do the same.”
“I’ll let them know.” She swallowed a lump in her throat and her eyes began to burn.
Jerry smiled. This time it was one of pure joy; not one tinged with sorrow. “Thank you for coming to that graveyard,” he said. “You were the answer to all my prayers. I’ll be waiting for you two. But for now, I have two other children to meet.” His smile broadened. “Thank you, Jessica. Thank you so much for everything.”
He began to fade away.
“Oh, wow,” he said, his voice growing faint. Then, “You mean all three of you are boys?”
He was gone.
Wayne blinked a few times. His lower lip quivered, and he promptly chomped down on it to keep it from moving.
Jessica wiped her eyes with her hands. “Real men cry, you know,” she said. “I’ve seen you do it lots of times.”
“Tell one soul, and I’ll dissect you with those stupid chopsticks Sidney puts in her hair.”
“You couldn’t catch me. Now shall we continue again, or do you think we’ll keep getting interrupted by departing spirits?”
“Let’s find out.” He set down the flashlight and picked up the recorder. “Did you just see that, guys?” he said, addressing the room once more. “That’s what we’re talking about. We want you to be able to go to heaven just like my—like Jerry did. And trust me, he did some bad stuff. He wanted forgiveness for his sins. Sure, God forgives us, but other people need to forgive us, too. If you love God, and if you want to be forgiven, just let us know. Pour your heart out and repent. We’ll listen.”
Jessica started to add her own advice, when suddenly someone far off in the dark began to whimper. She took the flashlight and shined it in all the corners, seeing nothing but a furnace, a water heater, and a washer and dryer.
“Please forgive me,” the voice cried, growing closer. She could still see no one. “Please, please forgive me…”
I hope you enjoyed Rage’s Echo. If you could please take a moment to leave a review on the retailer site or sites of your choice, or even your blog, it would mean so much to me. Reviews truly do help.
If you would like to know more about my stories, please visit my website at: www.jsbaileywrites.com.
Thanks!
J.S. Bailey
No author writes a novel alone, and the one you hold in your hands is no different. First and foremost I would like to thank my husband, Nathan, as well as my family, friends, and readers for their undying support in this harebrained endeavor called being an author. I also extend a heaping amount of thanks to Abby Ryan and Kara Grant, who have served as my extra sets of editorial eyeballs on multiple occasions; Janel Schmid, who reigns as my biggest critic; Esther Carlier, who proudly holds the title of biggest fan; Valerie Smith, whose terrifying tale of a haunted dorm room jump-started my imagination; Shawnta Brown, who answered some of my questions about cerebral palsy; and Dante Alighieri, whose Inferno provided some of the best inspiration a girl could ever ask for. And last but certainly not least, I have to thank the one who not only blessed me with the ability to tell this story, but held my hand when I needed it the most.
As a child J.S. Bailey escaped to fantastic worlds through the magic of books and began to write as soon as she could pick up a pen. She dabbled in writing science fiction until she discovered supernatural suspense novels and decided to writ
e her own. Today her stories focus on unassuming characters who are thrown into terrifying situations which may or may not involve ghosts, demons, and evil old men. She believes that good should always triumph in the end. She lives with her husband in Cincinnati, Ohio.