The Event

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  "So, what's the deal here? What do I have to do for my mother to be allowed back?"

  "Your mother isn't allowed back, Angela."

  My mouth dropped open. "Uh, you're wrong. I was flat out told she'd been grounded. The day of the incident."

  Mr. Green Suit nodded. "Matthew Clough."

  "Yes, he actually came and helped me that day, but he even said he wasn't supposed to be there." Matthew Clough was a sweet little boy that died too soon at the hands of his nanny. We'd developed a special relationship, and he was there for me when I almost died.

  The leprechaun/not leprechaun, or whatever he really was, just smiled.

  The lightbulb over my head went off. "This isn't about my mother at all, is it?"

  He stared at me.

  "But I did apologize. I did acknowledge—" I stopped myself. I had apologized, but for pushing my mother to help me when the Universe had rules and didn't want her breaking them, but that wasn't the issue. She wasn't grounded. I was. "Mel's right, isn't she? This isn't about my mother at all. It's about what I did. The Universe is teaching me a lesson, isn't it?" My speed increased, and my ribs sent me a message to slow down.

  Mr. Green Suit placed his hand on my shoulder. His warm, alive hand. "We need you, Angela. You have a special gift, one very few share, and you're destined to do great things with it."

  We.

  "Then can't you just let me do what I do?"

  "I wish we could, but there is so much you don't know, so much you wouldn't understand."

  "Try me."

  "There is both good and evil in the universe, Angela."

  "Yeah, and it's my understanding you've got that handled."

  "It's your assumption, not understanding. The truth is, you've placed everything into one compartment, and that's not how things work. Your universe, as you call it, is only one portion of two very separate, and very independent entities, and we can only control our actions."

  "You mean like a devil and God?"

  "How we are defined varies, but yes, some see us that way. We like to call it good and evil."

  I had always believed in balance, that to have good, there had to be evil, and if Heaven existed, then so did Hell. I just didn't think it applied to my gift or the risks it included. "So, what exactly are you saying?"

  "We're fighting a battle, and we can't always determine the outcome."

  My heart raced. I couldn't believe what I'd heard. "So, I could have died that day? Is what you're saying?"

  "Not exactly."

  "Not exact—what the hell does that even mean?"

  "There is always the possibility of death, Angela. People die every day."

  "Get to the point, Green Suit." His vagueness exploded my patience into tiny bits of nothingness. "I'm over your BS half answers."

  "We needed you to see the seriousness of your actions so you could understand those risks, understand what you're up against."

  "So, that's why you stopped my mother from helping?"

  He nodded again, but I needed more than that. I threw my hands into the air. "So, you would have been okay if I'd died? Is that it?" I sped up, injured body be damned. "That is complete bullshit. You expect me to help you now?" I raced in front of him and then flipped around. "Over my dead body." I laughed at the irony of that statement. "Y'all can go screw yourselves for all I care."

  He appeared in front of me again. "We knew another soul would intervene, and we knew that soul would have the strength to save you."

  "But Matthew said he wasn't supposed to be there either."

  "Matthew wasn't grounded, however; he did see the importance of allowing you to understand the risk. When he felt you were in real danger, he intervened."

  "And thank God he did, because otherwise you would have just let me die."

  "We realize your value, Angela, and we don't plan to let anything happen to you, but as I said, we cannot control everything."

  "Yes, I get that. You set me up to get my ass kicked, ground my one guardian angel that could and would save me from doing just that, and hedged your bets that a six-year-old dead kid would come to my rescue. Thanks for caring, but I'd rather count on strangers than any of your kind." I kept moving, ignoring him next to me.

  We hit a split in the path, and I stopped. My ribs hurt, my lungs ached, and I just wanted to roll up in a ball and cry. I felt betrayed, angry and hurt. I didn't understand how they could put me at risk like that.

  "We didn't," Mr. Green Suit said.

  I stared at him. "You didn't what?"

  "We didn't put you at risk. We allowed you to—"

  I held out my hand and interrupted him. "Hold on; I didn't say that out loud. Get out of my head."

  He smiled. "As I was saying, we allowed you to choose your actions, and we monitored them, knowing things ultimately would work out."

  I shook my head. "I don't see it that way at all."

  He waved his hand at the split in the path. "We are here, and now you must decide."

  "Decide what? If I want to see my mother again? Of course, I want to see my mother again, but this is a lose/lose deal for me, and you know that."

  "You are wrong. You are a different person now, and you understand the seriousness of your gift. You are preparing yourself, and you have grown. That is what we wanted, but we knew you had to get there on your own."

  "Good God, even my daughter isn't as manipulative as you."

  "It is a gift," he said and laughed.

  I didn't find it all that funny. "So, what do you even want from me? To play by your rules? To do things your way? To follow your commands like a trained dog? Because yeah, I'm not sure that works for me."

  "You're never without freedom of choice, Angela, but with that choice comes greater risk, and you must understand that."

  I pressed my lips together and stared at the path below me. "Okay, so, you just want me back then, right? You want me to say I'm willing to be your, your whatever…your go-to girl again, and I can have Fran back? Is that it?"

  He nodded. "She is already back. She'd simply chosen to keep quiet until you understood."

  "I don't believe you." Real leprechaun or not, I didn't trust Mr. Green Suit. I was too angry to.

  "Very well." He flicked his hand in the air.

  I watched as a cloud of smoke covered him, and then I heard a familiar cough. "Ah, Madone, you're a real pain in the butt, you know that?"

  The smoke cleared, and my mother stood where Mr. Green Suit had been.

  I tumbled back a step. "Ma?"

  "You betcha. Now, you gonna get back on the horse or do I gotta find another way to get you in line?"

  I lowered myself to the ground, my head a mess of confusion. "I don't…I don't understand."

  "Pretty nifty disguise, dontcha think? I gotta tell ya, I didn't I think I could pull it off, but I sure did." She laughed.

  "You were Mr. Green Suit?"

  She smiled. "It was Buddy's idea. I wanted to be a mafia gangster, but he said you'd figure that out in a heartbeat."

  Buddy was my mother's fiancé when I was a teenager. He'd died before they had a chance to marry but hooked up again in the afterlife.

  I was completely lost. "So, wait. You're telling me you dressed up as a leprechaun—one that felt like a real person, by the way—all to get me to understand my gift is dangerous? Why couldn't you just tell me?"

  "When was the last time you listened to your mother?"

  "I always listened to you, at least when I grew up."

  "Yah, that's a load of bull crap, and you know it. And that ain't the point anyway. This had to happen, and I told the powers that be that I'd handle it because I figured you'd listen to me, even if I did have to wear an ugly green suit." She twirled around in the blue house coat she'd died in. "Not that this is my best look either, but I wanted you to see me like you remembered me."

  My eyes released a river full of tears, and I didn't try to stop them. I cried and cried as my mother hovered patiently next to me. I bab
bled a few words, but she didn't understand them. "Wait, can't you read my mind?"

  "You kidding me? That thing is like a brick. I couldn't get through there, even if I tried."

  "But you knew—"

  She stopped me. "What you were going to say next because I'm your mother for cryin' out loud. That's what mothers do."

  She had a point.

  "I really don't understand any of this. What am I supposed to do?"

  "You're supposed to learn a lesson. Know you're not always going to be safe and be prepared."

  "I'm doing that."

  "I know, but you got to rely on others, and I don't mean just us celestial beings. I mean that hottie detective, for starters. You can't do this alone, and you can't be makin' crazy decisions, like running off without telling anyone where you're going and with nothing to defend yourself because you think criminals will listen to reason."

  "You have a point."

  "You wouldn't have left me there to die, would you?"

  "Of course not. I knew our little buddy would help you, and I knew the hottie detective was on his way. ‘Course I didn't like seein' you in pain like that, but trust me, all of them got what they deserved from me."

  I raised an eyebrow. "Care to explain?"

  She shook her head. "Some things you're better off not knowing." She winked. "But trust me, it was good."

  * * *

  I didn't tell Mel how things went down with my mother, otherwise known as Mr. Green Suit. She had so much going on with the wedding, and I didn't want to cloud her joy with my stuff any more than I already had. Instead, I told her I'd come to an agreement with the leprechaun, and that the whole thing had been tabled until after her big day. She didn't believe me, but I said if she wanted me in the wedding, she'd have to live with it.

  The two weeks between my mother returning and the wedding flew by. Mel attended to every detail with a white-gloved attitude, and I performed every task asked of me to do my part in making the day amazing for my best friends.

  And it was amazing. Mel stunned her guests in her gorgeous lace and taffeta, pale pink gown, and the little touches of green throughout the décor were a hit, even though no one knew the joke about it.

  Thank God for waterproof mascara.

  I cried as Mel walked down the aisle. I cried when she handed me her bouquet, and I bawled like a baby when the officiant said, "I now pronounce you man and wife."

  As the newly married couple turned and faced the crowd, Aaron smiled, raised their interlocked hands and yelled, “I love you, Bum Bum.”

  The whole room jumped up and cheered.

  I knew that would come back to haunt me, but it was so worth it.

  THE END

  Enjoy this excerpt from Carolyn Ridder Aspenson’s contemporary romance novella,

  The Inn at Laurel Creek, Zoe & Daniel’s Story

  on sale now.

  The Inn at Laurel Creek

  Zoe & Daniel’s Story

  “You’re going to finish that book and enjoy yourself whether you want to or not,” the Inn’s owner, Lou Brinker insisted. “Stan, fetch her bags and bring them up to Serenity for me, will ya?” She offered me the sweetest of smiles, and if I hadn’t just traveled two hours longer than necessary because of a multi-car pile up on Interstate 85 in Atlanta, I probably wouldn’t have noticed, but I did, and it warmed my heart. “You’ll just adore the Serenity Suite, Ms. Barrett. Why, it’s the best room in the Inn, that’s for sure.”

  “It sure is.” Stan Brinker adjusted the brown leather cowboy hat on his head and then tossed two of my bags over his hunched shoulders. He groaned from the effort.

  I leaned in and took the heaviest one from him. “Mr. Brinker, you don’t have to do that. I’ll take this one.”

  He removed his hat and placed it on the credenza in the foyer. “Now, Ms. Barrett, a gentleman never lets a lady carry her own bags.”

  Lou patted me on the shoulder. “Don’t you let him fool ya. We got ourselves a brand new pulley so he doesn’t carry a darned thing up those stairs.”

  Stan blushed. “I still carry a thing or two, but my back ain’t what it used to be. All those years on the farm done me in.”

  Lou rubbed her husband’s back. “It sure did, but if it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t have this old house, and it’s a miracle worker, it is.” She led the way up the stairs, and to my suite.

  “She’s right about that.” Stan had dropped my bags on the pulley hidden behind a hallway door in the foyer and followed his wife.

  I did the same. “What do you mean, miracle worker?”

  “See them doors? Outside those is where the good ones happen.” Stan pointed to a set of white, freshly painted French doors swaying in the fall breeze. “Why we’ve had rock stars fall in love out there just as recent as last year.”

  “You’ve had rock stars stay here?”

  “Sure have. Got ourselves a famous one married here just last month.”

  “Is this where Bret Bennett got married?”

  “Sure is,” Stan said.

  Lou waited to unlock my suite, and we stepped through the French doors and onto the porch while Stan removed my bags from the pulley. “It gets a touch chilly up here at night, especially during the fall months like this, so you ought to wear a sweater, but if you play your cards right, you might just catch yourself a shooting star,” Lou said.

  “And this is the miracle spot right here. It’s where Ben, er, uh, Bret and Carly fell in love.” A touch of pink stained Stan’s cheeks again.

  Lou pinched his left cheek. “Ain’t he just the cutest old bug? Getting all romantic like that and blushin’. True love does that to him every time.”

  I hoped one day to have a love like that. A love like Stan and Lou, and Bret and Carly, sweet and kind and written in stone, not the kind I’d just run from that left me damaged and bitter and desperate to hide in the north Georgia mountains for a month to finish writing my romance novel. The romance novel I’d promised my publisher two months before but had yet to finish because my ex-boyfriend, Chad Hart, dumped me for my so-called best friend. True best friends didn’t steal their best friend’s boyfriends—especially ones in their thirties—so I’d been wrong to think Shannon Brennan—officially known as the stealing boyfriend beyotch formally known as Shannon—was ever my best friend.

  “Once you’re settled, you can sit out here and write. We have wireless wifi, and I’ll bring you my special sweet tea and cookies. It’s quiet and pretty, don’t you think?”

  Flower-barren azalea bushes and sugar maples with leaves just at the start of changing colors lined the front walk. The varying stages of color change, some yellow, a few orange and even less a burnt red, were a slow death for the vibrant green leaves of spring and summer. It reminded me of the last few months of my relationship with Chad and of what remained after the break up. The leaves represented my heart; they knew their time was short and that soon they’d fall from the thin strands of life they desperately clung to and crash to the ground, a damaged mess of brokenness, all but dead inside. “It’s beautiful. Writing out here will be perfect.”

  “She’s read all your books. Stays up well past her bedtime to finish ‘em, too.”

  Lou shoved Stan to the side. “You hush, now honey. We don’t want our guest feeling uncomfortable.”

  “It’s okay, really. I appreciate that. It pays the bills to have supportive fans.”

  “Well, if that’s true, then Lou here’s gonna be paying all them bills. She’s a reader, my wife.”

  “Stan Brinker, you’re making me madder than a wet hen. Unless you plan on sleeping in the shed, you better cut it out.”

  Stan’s posture stiffened, and he scooted back through the French doors and to the Serenity suite.

  Lou laughed. “I ought to be careful. I might just scare him to death one a these days.”

  When Stan unlocked the door to my room, I knew I’d just glimpsed Heaven. A moan even escaped my lips. “This is beautiful.” My eyes darted
to the antique copper claw-footed tub draped with tea light candles. I rushed to it. “And this…this is exactly what I need. I can already imagine a scene in my book with it.”

  “Oh lawd, we’re gonna be in a book.” Lou swatted her husband on the shoulder. “Heavens, I think I might faint.”

  Stan held his wife close and nuzzled his scruffy gray haired chin into her neck. “Now don’t you go and faint on me sweetheart, I can’t put you on that pulley, and I don’t got enough strength to carry you down those stairs. I’m too old to be doin’ that kinda thing.”

  I tried so hard not to laugh, but I just couldn’t help myself. Lou laughed also, and Stan’s belly giggled until he finally burst into a laugh loud enough to rival the likes of a shopping mall Santa. I wished I could pack the two of them in my suitcase and bring them home with me.

  It took a moment, but I realized I’d just smiled for the first time in weeks. “Thank you for that.”

  Lou squeezed my shoulder. “For what, sweetie?”

  “For the giggle. I most definitely needed that. It’s been a rough few weeks, and I don’t think I’ve had anything to laugh about in a while.”

  “You can’t see what your mind doesn’t want your heart to know,” Stan said. His eyes sparkled. “I guess you’re ready to laugh now.”

  “And that’s what we’re here for, to make your life better. For now though, we’re gonna skedaddle and let you get settled. Once you’re all unpacked, you let us know, and I’ll get you those cookies and sweet tea I told you about.

  I wrapped her in a hug. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  She hugged me back, and I nearly cried from the flash of emotion rushing through me.

  Stan smiled. “You need anything, you just give me a holler, you hear?”

  I bent my head and wiped the tear away, hoping they didn’t notice. “Yes, sir.”

  He tipped his hat toward me. “Ma’am.”

  I nodded. “Cowboy.”

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  The Inn at Laurel Creek Zoe & Daniel's Story