Courageous: Afterlife Book Four Read online

  Abhik lifted his head and wiped away the tears. "Well you worry about yourself now. Worry about preventing this from happening to you. Do you hear me? I'm going to keep an eye out for you and I will stay here till the baby is born. I might go back for a week or two but I'll come back. I am not letting go of you until I'm certain you and the baby are alright."

  I put my arm around Abhik's shoulder. "We will be," I said. "I promise you we will."

  "Good. Now I was thinking that we might do something to cheer you up a little," he said.

  I smiled. "Like what?"

  "I will take you to see your parents."

  I stopped breathing. Then I shook my head. "No. There is no way I can do that. Not now."

  "Why not? Now is a perfect time. Your stomach isn't huge yet and you do need to get away a little. You've wanted to do this for so long, you've dreamt about finally seeing them for as long as I can remember. I am kind of surprised that you haven't gone already."

  "I am not sure that I'm ready for it. Mick told me to wait, since he is afraid that I might hurt the baby or that something might happen to us. Besides I was told to stay in bed."

  "For a couple of days, yes," Abhik said. His eyes were so eager and excited, it was sweet. "You've done just that. You told me yourself that you were feeling better and hardly felt the pain in your leg anymore. You're the strongest and best flyer this school has ever experienced. Going to Earth is a piece of cake for you. You'll hardly break a sweat."

  "It's very sweet, Abhik, that you want to cheer me up and I have to say I am intrigued, but I'm not sure it's a smart thing to do. Not with me and Mick fighting and all. He did tell me to stay away from you and to not go out. He'll just get mad at me ..."

  I paused and looked at Abhik. "You know what?" I said. "Screw him."

  Abhik smiled widely. "Yes! Screw him! There is the Meghan I know and love. There you are. Boy I've missed you."

  "If I feel fine going to Earth and see my parents then I am going to visit them. Neither Mick nor anybody else should be allowed to stop me."

  Abhik got up and reached out his hand. "Then let's go," he said and looked at me in great anticipation.

  I took in a deep breath, then took his hand and got up from the bed.

  "Race you there?"

  CHAPTER 18

  IT WAS LIKE old times. Abhik and I shooting through the air, surfing on the clouds, and then racing each other and me always winning. How I enjoyed the freedom of flying across the sky, becoming one with the air, with nature, feeling whole for the first time in very long time. Almost being like the dolphins I had seen from my window; just playing, laughing, enjoying life.

  "I've missed this," I said to Abhik as we came closer to our destination. Underneath us lay the swampy land of Florida where I had been born and raised. The lakes were too many to number and the green wild landscape brought me back to my childhood.

  "Missed what?" Abhik said.

  "Flying," I said and looked at him. "Flying with you. Flying and playing like I hadn't a care in the world."

  Abhik showed his beautiful pearly white teeth. "Me too," he said "I've missed hanging out with you."

  I stared at the wild landscape beneath us.

  "Ready?" He asked.

  "Not sure I'll ever be."

  We made ourselves invisible to the human eye, and then started descending towards the ocean and the beach. As we came closer to my hometown of Cocoa Beach on the barrier island, I felt a pinch in my stomach. I had so many memories from this place, and still so much was missing that it left me with a feeling of rootlessness. It was like I knew where I came from, but I wasn't sure I really knew who I had been, who I was. We descended and landed on the street where I had grown up in a canal front home on the backside of the island, I found myself gulping and breathing heavily as we came closer to my house. Suddenly it was there, right in front of me, the two story house with porches both on the first floor and downstairs. An old rocking chair brought me back many years. I reached out and touched it gently as we floated up to the porch. I knew this chair so well. I used to sit on my daddy's lap in this and he would rock me and tell me stories or we would sing together. I touched a scratch that I remember accidentally making with a toy one day. I recalled how terrified I had been that my dad would find out and maybe yell at me, but he never did. Whether he never saw it or just never mentioned it I still didn't know.

  I inhaled deeply as we came closer to the front door. It looked worn, like it needed painting, come to think of it so did most of the place. The yard hadn't been properly taken care of for a long time, I thought. There was a lawnmower standing in the middle of the high grass looking like it had given up long ago. More weeds than grass were growing in the lawn and some of it had started attacking the house as well. It all looked so neglected. It saddened me since I knew my parents had always taken good care of the house and yard. But somehow it seemed they had given up.

  "Ready?" Abhik whispered.

  I breathed again. Then nodded. "Let's do it."

  The house was quiet as we oozed through the walls and ended up in the living room. The TV was on but no one seemed to be watching. We moved closer. I gasped. Someone was on the couch, heavily asleep. I felt tears pressing behind my eyes.

  It was my dad.

  I hadn't seen him in so many years. I let the tears roll freely down my cheeks as I looked at him. He was unshaved, his clothes seemed a mess. What happened to him? I thought. He used to be such a neat person, always dressed impeccably for his job as an investor. What had he been doing to himself? The table in front of him was packed with beer bottles and orange bottles of pills. Was he sick? I went closer and looked at one. No, those weren't pills for a sick body, but for a sick mind. Nerve pills, sleeping pills. I looked at my dad's sleeping face.

  "What happened to you?" I whispered.

  I heard steps from upstairs and went through the ceiling. I ended up in a room that I knew a little too well. I breathed heavily and felt the tears piling up again. It was my room. It was still intact, exactly the way I had left it. Even the silly posters on the wall, even my clothes in the closet, my books, my CDs, everything was still the way I remembered it. It felt like walking around in a mausoleum of my childhood.

  I heard steps coming from the walk-in closet and suddenly someone came out of it. I gasped. It was my mother. She held a box in her hand. She turned off the light in the closet and walked out into the room. She was right in front of me now. I felt my entire body shaking. I wanted so badly to reach out and touch her.

  She put the box on the bed and sat next to it. While sniffing she pulled out old pictures and little things that I recognized as my own, as some of the things I had treasured. She had kept all that. I floated closer and sat in front of her. She had gotten old. Grey hairs were growing between the brown, her face had turned old and different, torn with pain and anguish. Not the always smiling face I remembered. Her hair was thin and neglected like the yard, her body skinny and feeble. She sobbed as she pulled out pictures and looked at them.

  "Do you remember this day?" she suddenly asked.

  I was afraid she had seen me, but soon realized she didn't know I was actually here. She just spoke to me as if I was.

  "We had taken in the Christmas tree and then it tipped over in the living room after we decorated it," she continued. "It almost hit you, but luckily you weren't hurt. You were only three. Do you remember that, Meghan? Do you remember that day? It was a fun day. It was a happy day. But what a mess it made."

  My mother chuckled lightly. I had to restrain myself from trying to hug her. I wanted so badly to show myself to her, to hold her in my arms and let her know that I was alright. I looked at Abhik. He smiled and kept his distance, letting me have this moment with my mother. I got up and floated towards him.

  "I want to show myself to them," I whispered not caring if my mother heard me or not.

  "It's never good to rush into things like that. You risk that she'll think she has gone insane. She might
lose it completely," Abhik whispered.

  "I know. It's a risk I'm willing to take. Do you think it'll get me into trouble?"

  "I don't know. Normally we are advised to use a dream, so they won't be afraid. Don't you think it's wiser to wait?"

  I swallowed hard to not cry. "I don't think they can wait. Look at them. They have suffered long enough. It's bad. I think it'll do them good to know I'm fine."

  Abhik nodded. "Well, it's your call. I just think it's a bad idea."

  I looked at him. As always he was the sensible one. It was about time, I became one too. I had messed up this kind of stuff before. "Maybe you're right," I reasoned. "I don't want to scare them. Maybe a dream would be best; it's the safest way to do this. Maybe next time I come down here. Then maybe later I could reveal myself to them ... or maybe I could come in several dreams. I guess it would be better to not rush it and to think it properly through." I stared at my mother. "I'll just say goodbye now."

  "I'll wait outside," Abhik said and went through the brick wall.

  I smiled and floated closer to my mother. She had raised her head and looked in our direction, like she had heard our voices but couldn't see us.

  "Is there anyone there?" she asked. Then she got up and walked to the window. Three people were walking past the house in the street. She closed the window and walked back to the box and all the pictures and my old drawings that she had lined up nicely on the bed. I recognized most of them, but there was one drawing that I hadn't seen before, one that I didn't seem to remember making. I picked it up without thinking about it and looked at it. It was me. A drawing of myself holding someone’s hand. Someone who was floating in the air.

  I froze when I realized my mother had stopped walking and was now staring at the floating piece of paper in front of her. She let out a small shriek.

  "Who is there?" she said once again. She didn't sound afraid. "Is it you, Meghan?"

  I swallowed hard, and then slowly made myself visible. My mother stared at me, her eyes growing wider and wider as I slowly revealed myself to her.

  Then she started screaming.

  CHAPTER 19

  "M ... MMEGHAN?"

  The sound of my mother's voice saying my name felt so warm and soothing and took me right back to my childhood again. She stopped screaming after I shushed her and told her it was okay, that it wasn't dangerous, that it was just me. She still stared at me like she had seen ... well yes, a ghost which I guess I kind of was to her.

  "Meghan?" She walked closer staring at me like she still couldn't believe it. "It can't be!"

  Then she turned her face away. "No! You're not real. It's just my imagination." She turned her head and looked at me again. Then she reached out as if to touch me. Her hand was shaking heavily as it came closer to me. It went straight through my wobbly face. She pulled the hand back in shock. "No. You're not there."

  She paused and looked paralyzed. I could hear her breathing. She stared at me closely again. "Are you? Is it really you? No. It can't be." She shook her head very fast, and then bit her fingernails nervously.

  I took in a deep breath and found the courage to finally speak. It was hard to speak and I almost whispered.

  "It's me."

  My mother's eyes widened once again. Then she shook her head desperately. Her eyes were filled with anxiety. "No. No. No. It can't be. I must be losing it." She was biting her nails frantically. "Maybe I should call Dr. Kay again. She'll know what to do. She'll know what this is."

  "Mom, it really is me," I said again. I reached out and grabbed a hold of her hand. I managed to hold on to it for several seconds.

  My mother froze. She stared at the hands connecting our two worlds. When I let go, she gasped for air. She lifted her eyes and stared into mine. This time I could tell she knew it was really me and not some product of her imagination. A tear escaped from the corner of her eye. It rolled slowly down her cheek and ended on her upper lip. Another tear followed it. My mother reached out her hand once again and tried to stroke my cheek. It went better this time and I felt her gentle touch. The love from that small stroke went through my body like waves of electricity. I felt my eyes tearing up as well.

  "My dear Meghan," she whispered with a thick voice. "My dear child. How I have longed for this moment, how I have longed and prayed to once again see you." Her body was shaking, my stomach cramping trying to restrain myself from bursting, from crying. I knew if I let it go I would never be able to stop again.

  "I've missed you too, Mom."

  She caressed my cheek gently while the tears rolled over her cheeks. "You have no idea how your dad and I have been searching for you. For years and years we have been waiting for you to come home. Some days I just sit on the porch and wait. The loss has been hard on your dad. He's not ... well he's not quite himself. He's been depressed and been drinking. It's like he can't snap out of it again, like it's holding him down." She paused and gazed upon me. Then her eyes seemed shocked once again. "You're ... you're ...?" She looked at me searching for some kind of explanation.

  I nodded slowly. "Yes, Mom. I'm dead."

  She sucked in air in shock and started hyperventilating. "Does that mean ...?"

  "Yes, Mom. I have left Earth, but I have gone to a better place. A place that is so much fun. A place where you get to fly and walk on rainbows and ..."

  "So she did do it?" my mother asked.

  "Who?"

  "That woman. That horrible woman who claimed she had killed you. She did do it?"

  I smiled, and then nodded again. "Yes. Rosey did kill me, but I have come to understand why. She wasn't well Mom."

  "I don't understand."

  "It's all in the past now Mom. I have come here to give you and Dad peace of mind. You have struggled for too long searching for me, trying to find out what happened to me. I'm here to tell you that I am well. I am very happy now." I glanced down at my growing stomach. My mother's eyes followed mine. She stepped backwards with another gasp.

  "Oh my!" she exclaimed. Then she stared into my eyes. "How?"

  "I'm married," I said. "I found a guy and we are married now and we are going to have a child in a few months."

  My mother stared at me in disbelief. "I'm going to be a grandmother?" She said with a shaking voice.

  I wiped tears from my eyes while nodding. "Yes, I guess you are."

  My mother suddenly turned pale. She held a hand to her head. "I need to sit down."

  "Of course."

  My mother went towards the bed and sat on it. She put her hands on her knees and sat rocking back and forth for a few seconds.

  I still had the drawing in my hand. My mother looked at me. I floated closer and showed her it. She smiled when she looked at it.

  "You made that one when you were about five," she said. "It was the first one you made of you and him."

  "Him?" I asked.

  "Don't you remember him?"

  I looked at the drawing again. It wasn't very detailed. "No. I don't think so."

  My mother sighed deeply. "He was your best friend in the whole entire world. Imaginary, of course. None of us could see him, but boy how you loved him."

  "And he could fly?" I asked.

  My mother chuckled lightly. "Yes. You wanted to be able to fly like him so every Sunday you and your dad rehearsed your flying. You would climb the garbage can outside and jump from it. Your dad would encourage you to 'flap those arms' and then catch you in the air before you hit the ground." My mother laughed at the sweet memory.

  "I don't remember that," I said.

  "That's too bad. It's one of your dad's favorite memories."

  I looked at the drawing once again. I put a finger on the floating imaginary friend next to me. How come I couldn't remember making him up? Was it because I was too young?

  "How long did I have this friend?" I asked.

  "Oh my. He was with us for years and years. You made him up around the time when your dad almost died from that burst appendix, do you remember that? He was
in the hospital for days and we didn't know if he would live or die. The doctors had no hope, they told us. It had burst inside of him and he was going to die a slow and very painful death now. But you never gave up hope. One day when we had visited your dad in the hospital and I took you home to get you to bed you told me that Dad was going to be alright. I will never forget those words coming from your mouth. You were so convinced that it was almost frightening. I asked you how you knew and you answered that your friend in the hospital had told you so. You told me you had prayed and God had sent someone to save Daddy. You told me he was your new best friend. Only a few hours after you had gone to bed the phone rang. It was the hospital telling me that your dad was improving miraculously and that they believed he would wake up soon. I ran to your room and woke you up to tell you the good news and all you said was 'told you so, Mom.' Your friend stayed with you ever since then and we let you have him in your life. We thought he was good for you, since you didn't have any siblings it was good to have a friend to talk to when things became difficult for you, so we let you. The doctor said it was no harm and that many kids had imaginary friends like him. He stayed with you for always. Even as a teenager you still told me he visited every now and then and you were always looking forward to his visits."

  I shook my head while staring at the drawing. How come I didn't remember any of all this? "Do you have any more drawings or paintings of him?" I asked.

  My mother lit up. "Well of course. You always drew pictures of him. He was constantly on your mind."

  My mother reached down into the box and pulled out a couple more drawings. She handed them to me. "Here are more."

  I grabbed them and stared at the first. Then the next and the next. I gasped for air. The realization was like receiving a punch to my stomach. The older I got, the more detailed the pictures became and one thing they all had in common was that my imaginary friend wore a hat. An old-fashioned black top hat along with white gloves, grey pants and a white shirt with a vest and a wide black tie underneath his jacket.