What is playing? Gotta Be Somebody by my favorite Canadians, Nickelback

Here are the first 23 pages of Redemption. As it stands now, it is 79, 653 words which would put it at roughly 300 pages. I hope you enjoy it.

10:30 p.m.

Steam rolled up over the crumpled hood. There was a hissing sound coming from the front of the car. The light pole that the front of the car wrapped around was set toward us at angle that made me think it was going to fall. My girl started moaning and I was grateful. Moaning meant that she was alive. I looked over and gasped when I saw the piece of glass lodged in the side of her neck with blood gushing over it. It had to be an arterial bleeder.

“Jared?” Her hand reached out for me and I took hers as firmly as I could manage.

“Yeah baby, I am right here.”

She was wincing. “Are you okay?”

“I am fine baby. How are you holding up?”

“Scared. Do you think anyone has called an ambulance yet?”

I heard the man who had pulled up behind us yelling something about two heads in front and the wreck being on the corner of Third and Wintergreen. A glance in the rearview mirror let me know that he was standing behind the car, pointing at the street signs as if the 911 operator could see him.

“Yeah baby, they have been called. So just hold on for me, okay?”

Her face was no longer wincing but her color took on a bluish tint. “I am trying Jared, but I am really cold.” The bleeding was slowing.

Oh God, not yet. Please not yet. Just let the ambulance get here. I tried to move closer but I was stuck. I looked down and saw the dashboard was sitting on my chest. Panic started to set in as I realized that I could not feel my legs. How was I going to help her if I could not move? God, help me. I grasped her hands tighter. She smiled lightly.

“Jared, I love you.”

“No. Do not give me the goodbye speech.”

“Please let me finish. I love you, I always have. I have never felt more complete, more whole than I have with you. I regret nothing about being with you. But we definitely have wrong to make up for.”

Tears fell from the corners of her eyes. She still held a weak smile. Her color, as impossible as it seemed, got paler. She looked as if she had a fine dusting of baby powder on her.

“I love you too, baby. Just hang on.”

She gave my fingers a faint squeeze and exhaled.

“No baby, no. Jesus, no! Please God, don’t let her be gone!”

Her mouth slacked open ever so slightly. I put my hand under her nose and on top of her mouth to see if I felt any breath. There was nothing.

“No!” I screamed at the unfairness of it. I screamed at God to give her back to me. I screamed at myself for not seeing the red light.

“Why couldn’t it have been me?”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

I looked over at the man standing outside of my window. He had the kindest face, making me think that our salvation had arrived. Only, there was no ambulance and the guy standing behind the car was still screaming into the phone.

“I need help man! She needs CPR. If you know it, please help because I can’t move my legs.”

“She is gone, Jared. CPR will not help now.” The sirens were getting louder.

“How do you know our names?”

“Because I was sent for you. I am the one who will be telling you about your job.”

“Job?” I motioned down with my hands. “What are you talking about? In case you have not noticed, I am trapped a car, the woman I love does not have a pulse” my voice started to crack, “and you are talking about a job. Please man, please, I will get you some help. We can get you off of whatever kind of junk you are doing afterwards but if you know CPR, you have to help her.” I brushed strands of hair out of her face. “Please, I love her more than life itself.”

The man reached out his hand and touched my forearm. “Be calm, Jared.” Immediately, I was calm. The building panic attack stopped just as he told me to be calm.

“How did you…”

“I can answer all of your questions when the time comes. I am here to guide you.”

Oh Jesus, no. Oh my God.

“I’m dying.” It was a statement, not a question.

He shook his head gently. “Yes. When the paramedic gets over here, tell him what you need to and I will get you.”

What do I need to tell the paramedic? “Does dying hurt?”

“Sometimes. But yours will be peaceful. Your suffering is over.”

As the paramedic ran up to my side of the car, the man backed away, but stood off to the side and watched. The paramedic wrenched my door open.

“I got this one open!” Hands were on my neck, steady. “This one has a pulse! It is weak but it is here. Hey man, just hold on for me, okay? My name is Ethan and I am going to get you some help, okay?”

I closed my eyes tightly, trying to focus but between the love of my life dying and the mystery guy standing off to the side, focusing was hard. I wondered who was going to check on my grandmother every night and make sure she had taken her medicine. Understanding crept in.

“This one does not have a pulse.” The other paramedic was checking all around her body. He leaned over and saw the glass lodged in her neck. “Damn it, she bled out. It looks like she completely bled out all over the seat here. And she is cold. How long ago was the accident?”

“Hey Justin, mine has a pulse, okay?” That was a gentle way of telling Justin to shut up, I think. “We got the call four minutes ago.”

“Oh.” The other guy was doing some other stuff but I was not paying attention.

“Ethan?”

He looked up from what he was working on, undoubtedly trying to find a way to get me out. I did not want to tell him that he would be too late. “Yeah man.”

“My name is Jared and my grandmother’s name is Hattie. Everybody knows her as Miss Hattie down at First Baptist. Please tell her that I am sorry and I love her.”

“You are going to be able to tell her yourself. Just hang in there.”

”No, I am not. I need to know you will. Miss Hattie, First Baptist. My name is Jared. I love her and I am sorry.” My voice was breaking up.

Ethan patted my hand. “Okay, okay, I will tell her. But you will beat me to the punch. We are going to get you out of here.”

The guy walked back up to me and touched my arm.

“Jared, I am taking you now.”

Looking death in the face, there was no fear. The stranger placed his hand on my forearm and a blanket of energy flowed over my body. Every nerve ending seized up. That only lasted for the briefest of seconds and then I was gone. Where the energy had been a second before, a numbness took over and I realized that Ethan could just walk away and drop what he was doing, I was dead.


Earlier that night, 7:15 p.m.

“Last call for American Flight 1472 to Atlanta. Last call for American Flight 1472 to Atlanta.” I watched the man who was taking off in a flat run for the gate, handling the carry on with amazing finesse. Evidently, this was not his first last call. Amused by that, I grabbed my cell phone and turned it on. I hit the preprogrammed number and waited on my call to be answered.”

“Hey baby girl!”

“Hey Daddy! I am on the ground.”

“Literally? Did you trip?”

“Funny, the man thinks he is a comedian.”

“Ah baby girl, you think I am funny sometimes too. How was your flight?”

“No screaming kids this time. But my iPod ran out of power somewhere over Virginia, so…”

“So Rebecca had to go without metal screeching in her ears. Somewhere, an angel has lost its wings.” Soft giggling followed the sarcasm.

“Daddy, I swear if I did not love you so much, I would pummel you with a bat. You need a woman.” He groaned. “Oh no, I take it the date did not go so well?”

“Sweetheart, let’s just say that you can’t judge a book by its cover.”

“How so?” I paused in stride long enough to allow a mom to shuffle two small children to the snack bar in front of me. Deciding I was not so hungry after all, I kept walking toward baggage claim.

“We met at the restaurant and when I saw her, I almost lost my breath she was so gorgeous. You were right about that kiddo. So, we sit down and we are having pleasant conversation for the first ten minutes or so. Then, she starts talking about her ex-husbands.”

“Husbands? I knew she had been married before but I thought it was only once.”

Daddy was chuckling. “She omitted a couple of things when you guys talked. She is fresh out of divorce number six.”

“Damn.”

“Exactly. So I was polite and we finished eating, I paid for the meal and then made up some sort of stomach bug to get out of there.”

“Daddy, I’m sorry. She seemed very nice.”

“I know sweetheart. And she was. I just did not feel like being future ex-husband number seven and it was obvious that she was hunting already.”

I sighed to myself as I walked up to baggage claim. I looked around the masses of black luggage for the telltale sign of my suitcase. When Daddy gave me the set of luggage, he was very proud as he showed me the small Pooh head embroidered on each piece of the set. He said mine would stand out in baggage claim, which it always did. Daddy used to read lots of books to me when I was a kid and our all time favorites to read together were the Pooh stories. I smiled widely as I saw the little fellow on a lone black bag.

“Pooh just rolled up.”

“See, aren’t you glad I’m a genius?”

I grunted as I lifted my suitcase but still managed to giggle. “Yes, Einstein, I am lucky that you are my father.”

“Me too. Are you heading for the car…” He stopped speaking abruptly as if something happened.

“Daddy, what is wrong?”

“I love you Rebecca. You are the best thing I have ever done in my life and if I should live five more lifetimes, that would still be true.”

“Daddy, what is going on?” I heard him swallow. He was scared. Dear God, what was happening to him?

“Drop the phone!” There was a deep voice on Daddy’s end, one that sounded a little muffled. “I said drop the fucking phone!”

“Daddy! What’s going on?”

“Just grab the bag and shoot his ass! We can’t leave a witness! Come on!” There was some movement like scuffling. I was stopped, frozen in position, petrified. My father was in trouble and I was a good 30 minutes away from him. I could not hang up to dial 911 because he may need me. Frantically, I looked around for someone to help. I lurched for a TSA security agent, grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him close, which he did not like very well at all. Just when I thought that I would be cuffed and led away, he saw my expression and stopped cold. I must have looked as scared as I felt.

“Sir please, I need someone to dial 911 for me. My father is on the phone with me and he is being robbed. He owns a jewelry store in downtown Raleigh and obviously I can’t hang up to dial 911. Please call someone for me.”

The agent’s hardened stare softened a bit and he nodded. “Give me the address and I will make the call for you.” With a shaking hand, I reached inside my purse and pulled out one of Daddy’s business cards. I always kept some on hand to give to potential customers. The agent nodded and dialed.

“What did you do to him? Come on! Let’s get the hell out of here!”

“Daddy? Please Daddy, say something. Come on Daddy, talk to me!” I looked at my watch and saw that is was 7:30. I turned to the agent. “The store is closed now so he will be in the alley to the side of the store going for his car. But please hurry, he is in trouble!” The agent relayed my information. “Daddy,” my voice was breaking and I was trembling, “please talk to me. Please be okay.” I heard a slight cough. “Daddy?”

“I love you baby girl.”

“I love you too Daddy. Hang on, help is on the way.”

“Not going to make it.”

“Stop that! You are going to be fine.”

“Chest pain…hard to breathe…not going to…make it.”

“Yes you are Daddy. You are going to be fine.”

His breathing was sounding labored. “Okay…sweetheart.”

“Daddy, how many people were there?”

He coughed then gasped. “Two.”

“Can you describe them?”

“Face…masks.” It was hard for him to talk.

I looked at the agent. “Have they sent an ambulance yet?” He nodded.

“Can you give me an ETA on the ambulance?” He turned his attention back to me. “They are roughly two minutes away.”

I heard Daddy coughing. “Please tell them to hurry!” He nodded and said something else to the 911 operator. “Daddy, the ambulance is almost there, okay? Hold on Daddy, they are almost there. I love you Daddy, just hold on for me.”

“Love you too baby girl.” I heard something rattle, like the phone hitting the pavement and my heart wrenched. Someone put their hands on my shoulders and it was not until that moment that I realized I was on my knees sobbing. I listened as the ambulance sirens approached and I heard the brakes screech as the ambulance stopped. I heard the paramedics talking and their voices getting louder as they approached my Daddy. I heard his shirt getting ripped open. I heard the sounds of the clasped hands on his chest doing CPR, trying to will his heart to move. I heard the observations about his clinical condition, about how his lips were blue. I knew when the defibrillator was charged and when it had been placed on his body and used. I stayed in my slumped position in the middle of the baggage claim, sobbing as the next five minutes went by. I heard the fight for my Daddy’s life. I knew that the paramedics were doing all they could. I also knew he was gone.

That is how my life became empty at only 23 years of age.


ALMOST TWO YEARS LATER

I put my keys on top of my files on my counter and walked over to the coffee pot. Thankfully, it had finished brewing while I was gone. This was going to be a long day. As a medical transcriptionist, I had five of the seven doctors at the clinic to type for today. I would be at this for a long time. Maybe this was not a bad thing. I would not be able to think about too many other things if I was busy, like anniversaries coming up. I walked over to my laptop and turned it on. Within seconds, all of the icons were up and it was waiting on me to start work. It would have to wait a few more minutes. I needed the coffee today, it was as necessary as air. As I rounded the corner coming back into the office with my cup in hand, I saw Wolfie, my cat, sitting in the chair beside the desk. I rubbed the top of his head and he purred, stretched and settled into nap position. As I walked away, his head jerked up and all the hair on his back stood on end. He hissed and ran out of the room in a frenzy.

“Wolfie? What the…”

I turned and looked at the chair sitting on the other side of the room and screamed. I grabbed the cell phone out of my pocket and pressed down the one button, 911 having been already programmed in. I was barely able to do this because my hand was shaking so violently. The man sitting in the chair on the other side of the room was at my side in a flash and touched the phone. It went dead before the call had a chance to connect. My whole body was shaking but I could not run. My eyes had not left the man, who was now back across the room sitting in the same chair. My heart was pounding so hard, I could feel my shirt move with each beat. I felt nauseous but I was certain that I was not going to throw up because that would require movement and my body was not going to let me do that yet.

He looked wary, perhaps even scared. He was in my house sitting across from me where absolutely no one had been seconds earlier and yet his face was very apologetic.

“I’m sorry. I know I have scared you. I am so very sorry. But I am not going to hurt you. Please know that. You are safe.”

I could not talk, or scream. I was still frozen.

“I can not imagine how you must feel right now. But please believe me. I am not going to hurt you, I promise you that. You are safe.”

I still could not move or make sense of what he was saying. If he was not going to hurt me, what in the hell was he doing here? For that matter, how did he get in here? His eyebrows scrunched together in concern.

“Do you need to sit? Yeah, you need to sit down.” He started walking toward me as if to help me but took a step back when I jerked away. I found my feet again. I took two steps back to Wolfie’s chair. My eyes never left him as I sat down. I have no idea why I sat. It did not make any sense to put myself in a position where I could not run away from this guy, but I did.

“My name is Jared. Like I said before, I am not going to hurt you. I promise that.

I found my voice.

“You have said that already. If you aren’t going to hurt me, what in the hell are you doing here, in my house? How did you get in here?”

“I will explain all of that. If you will please just do something. Take a few deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth, please.”

“What?”

“Please just do it. Your heart rate is alarmingly high and you are worrying me.”

“You broke in my house, you have scared me half to death and now you are worried about my heart rate? What in the hell is going on here?”

“Please just take a few deep breaths.”

I did as he asked. I took a few deep breaths in through my nose and released them slowly through my mouth.

“There, your heart rate is down a little.”

I felt my chest. He was right. But that still did not explain any of this.

“Like I was saying earlier, my name is Jared. I am here because you are the only one who can help me get home.”


GETTING TO KNOW JARED

In the grand scheme of things, I suppose this could be expected. There are people starving, sicknesses that can not be cured and people doing stupid shit like flying planes into buildings. So, sitting across the room from a six foot two inch tall ghost may not be so strange after all, right? Wrong. This was screwed up.

Jared told me that he was dead and I was part of something that he had to fix before he could go home. I could only assume that home was Heaven. Having taken a few minutes to let what he told me sink in, I just had to say it. Prove you are dead. I asked for it.

That is when he walked through my damned wall.

Stupefied, I walked up to that exact wall and poked it, trying to see if something had been tampered with. What did I come up with? Drywall, painted toasted mocha but drywall, nonetheless.

I had not done any weed since college. I was on no medications and the last time I had anything to drink was a beer on a date two months ago. I got seven hours of sleep last night. I was not tired. So what the hell was wrong with me?

Looking over at the chair, I still saw him. Wolfie was not there. That chicken shit ran out of the room and has been hiding ever since. I made a mental note to get a dog and replace the useless guard cat.

I walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, tossed the cap in the trash and took a very long pull. I think having a ghost in your house waiting to talk to you warrants a middle of the day emergency drink. I walked back around the corner with a half empty bottle and the ghost was still there. I took another long pull, wishing I had grabbed two bottles.

“Are you a drinker?”

“Not ordinarily. Are you a haunter?”

He grinned. “Not ordinarily.”

“Well, I think we have established extenuating circumstances here, so…” I sat down in the chair beside my desk, finishing off the bottle as I did. “Your name is Jared, you are dead and you do not haunt. We have covered the basics. Why am I the one who can help you?”

“I wish I could tell you that. You are just going to have to trust me.”

I laughed. “Trust you? Are you kidding me? Unless you are packing an emergency lobotomy kit somewhere Casper, I ain’t trusting you.”

A smile almost broke at the corner of his lips. “Is it a problem with spirits or trust issues in general?”

I almost could appreciate the sarcasm. But the situation was too new and too raw for me to develop any appreciation for him yet. “My mom up and left me and my dad when I was three because a toddler was not conducive to what her fling on the side wanted, so trust is a long-standing problem with me. The whole spirit issue, well, since you are my first, we will just have to see on that, won’t we?”

“You mom left when you were three?”

“Oh no, do not dare try to psychoanalyze me. I hate pity and I hate discussing my mental health, so stop.”

“Fair enough.”

“Are you going to answer my question?”

“No.”

“No, you aren’t going to answer. Or no, you can’t tell me.”

His lip was twitching, making it obvious that he was fighting a smile. “No, I can not tell you why I am here with you.”

“Why not?”

He actually chuckled. The son of a bitch was finding this funny. “If I could, I would tell you right now. But, unfortunately, that is not how things work.” He smiled at my annoyed expression. “I do not want secrets. I do not like being evasive with you. I do not want to prolong this. I would be a happy man if I could accomplish all I am supposed to right now. That way, I could go on to where I am supposed to be.”

“Where is that?” He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. He looked around the room, checking out the walls and shelves. His eyebrows scrunched together again. “What are you looking for?”

“Religious symbols, crosses, some sort of clue as to your theological beliefs.”

“I have a Bible.” He looked around again. “On the shelf.”

He crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow. “Do you ever read it?”

“Why, are you going to test me?”

“No.” I felt like he was looking down on me because I was not a Bible reader. That was adding to my discomfort.

“Do you have a point Reverend or are you just going to glare at me?”

“Are you a Christian?”

I shrugged. “More so than anything else, why?”

“Heaven. That is your answer. When I am finished here, I will be going to Heaven.”

“So is this like your purgatory or something?”

“No. I have something to fix, for lack of a better word. When that is done, I can go.”

I cocked my head to the side. My curiosity was flaring. “Did you wrong me or my father?”

“No.”

My arms fell down by my hips and my mouth flew open. “Then what in the hell are you doing with me?”

“All in good time.”

Great. Casper was not going to answer a damned thing I wanted him to. So, here I was, aggravated with a full load of work to do. To top it all off, my coffee was cold. I snatched the cup, ignoring the little bit that sloshed out on my sleeve and stormed off to the microwave. After the coffee was warmed to an acceptable temperature, I walked back to the office where Jared was sitting in the same chair.

“So what are the arrangements? Do you sleep? Do you eat? What do I have to expect?”

“I take it you have a bit of a temper.”

“Yeah, and a low bullshit tolerance. Sleeping, eating, ghostly habits, tell me what I need to expect.”

“I do not sleep or eat. As far as what I will be doing, I will be in and out. There are things that I have to take care of away from here but for the most part, I will be around you…a lot.”

I nodded my head, soaking in the latest bit of information. I wanted to look around for the hidden camera on the off chance that I was being punked.

“Are you a ghost, a poltergeist, what are you?”

He sat down on the floor in front of me in front of me with a gentle look on his face. “I am a Messenger. If you Google Messenger or maybe extra celestial being, you will find the closest definition to what I am.”

I grabbed my laptop and pulled it on my lap. I did as he suggested and searched both messenger and extra celestial beings. A couple of the definitions sounded rather daunting but a few of them were hilarious. I looked at the rather apprehensive man, for lack of a better term, sitting on my floor and had a hard time reconciling the scary stuff with him. After roughly ten minutes, I closed the laptop and sat it to the side.

“So, you are either a spiritual entity existing outside of a body or you are trying to give me a message?”

His lips twitched before he finally gave in to a smile. “Something like that. More like a combination of the two.”

“Wouldn’t it make things a hell of a lot easier for you just to sit down with a diagram and say ‘this is what I have to do Rebecca and here is where you come in’? Just come right out and say it instead of all of this beating around the bush.”

“Yeah, it would clear things up significantly. But I am not working on your timetable or mine. I have things I have to accomplish that were not defined by either you or me. I’m sorry but I have to play by” he pointed up “someone else’s rules.”

“And you are stuck with me?” Smiling, he nodded his head. “God, did you get screwed.”

The laughter went through the whole room. “I haven’t started being annoying at two in the morning yet. Your definition of who got screwed may change shortly.”

“Fair warning, I am a javaholic. If I do not get my coffee about two seconds after my eyelids peel open, I go from zero to bitch in about a nanosecond. I listen to loud music to which I sing off-key. Since it is September, my TV stays on Sports Center when it is on at all. Catching the preseason stats on Blue Devil basketball and Panthers football takes up a significant amount of time. Exactly why did you grimace?”

“I must have misheard you. I could have sworn you said Panthers.”

“I did.”

Jared looked up with his arms outstretched. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“Pardon me?”

“Don’t worry, I will correct your misguided ways by the end of the season and you will be a diehard Redskins fan.”

“I checked the weather this morning. Hell did not freeze over.”

“Whatever.”

I glared at him as I turned to head toward my desk. “Yeah, whatever. Now if you will excuse me, I have got a job to do.”

He grinned and gave me a mock salute. “Yes ma’am.”

Redskins fan, how in the hell did that happen? Oh well, it could have been worse. I could have been stuck with a Messenger who died in the 80s, filling my work day with “like” and “totally”. With a slight bit of amusement at my current situation, I went to my desk to begin my work for the day.


PEPPERMINT

Jared had killed my phone. I stared at it, shook it and eventually threw it away. Nothing was salvageable about it. I mentioned how I could at least donate it to an agency that provided cell phones to battered women or to the troops overseas and Jared told me not to bother. That particular piece of technology would never function normally again.

That afternoon, playing with all of the different functions on my newly purchased phone, I smelled peppermint. Glancing up, I saw Jared standing beside my 52 inch LCD TV with the new blue ray player under it.

“Bitch, move away from my TV.”

Jared glared at me. “Did you just call me bitch?”

“Did you just get within killing distance of my TV?”

Jared fought a grin. “Rebecca, I had to purposely touch that phone to kill it. I am not going to touch the TV.”

“Moot point. I don’t want any of your dead guy mojo reaching out and touching my TV. You killed my phone and I am so not taking the chance.”

He walked away and flopped down on the couch beside me. He reached down to touch the remote and stopped short. He pulled back when he saw my go to hell glare and laughed.

“Do you mind if I watch ESPN?”

I shook my head. “We covered that already. Go ahead. But I operate the remote, got it?”

The TV turned on by itself and the channel changed to ESPN. My eyes widened in surprise.
Jared smiled like the cat who ate the canary.

“The remote is not necessary. I can change the channels myself.”

I shook my head and muttered while turning my attention back to my phone. The applications on the new phones were phenomenal and my inner techno geek was screaming with excitement. I took a deep breath in and smelled the peppermint again.

“What’s up with the smell?”

Jared arched an eyebrow. “What smell?”

“It smells like chewing gum, peppermint maybe?”

Jared smiled as he stretched his arm down the couch into a more relaxed position. “That would be my smell. Peppermint was my thing.”

“Do you mind explaining that?”

“Not at all. I loved peppermint. You know the long peppermint stick candy you can get at Christmas?”

“Yeah.”

Jared smiled. “My grandma used to stockpile that stuff because I would go through it all year long. What was it? Red Bird candy, I think. Yeah, Red Bird. Man, that was some good stuff. Ooh, my cousin showed me a trick when we were kids. You know how you can cut a hole in the top of an orange and suck out the juice?”

“Yep. My dad used to do that for me all the time.”

“Good stuff, good stuff. Anyway, when you cut the hole in the top, put one of those pieces of peppermint candy in and suck the juice through that. Aww man, do I miss that!”

“Eww, orange and peppermint?”

He shot me a duh stare as if he were offended. “Don’t knock it until you try it Rebecca. With the holidays coming up, you need to grab a box of oranges and Red Bird candy and try it. Man, do I miss stuff like that.”

I felt sorry for him. He was stuck here with me, watching me do human, alive things everyday and there were things he wanted to do but could not. It was sad, really.

“So, when I smell peppermint, that pretty much means you are nearby.”

He nodded.

“Why couldn’t you have been a steak person?”

He laughed loudly. “Actually, I loved liver and onions. Would it be better to smell that all the time?”

I held up my hand in surrender. “Ugh, no. I’ll take the peppermint any day.”

Jared turned his attention back to ESPN and I turned my attention back to the phone. It was going to be interesting learning how to live with a ghost. At least this one liked Sports Center.


BAILING OUT JARED

In the two years since my father died, I have done this a handful of times. I always felt like he would be disappointed to watch me trashing my liver this way. Still, every few months or so, I found myself couching it with a couple of pillows, a blanket and some very chilled bottles of Goose ready to make myself forget for just a while that I was all alone in the world.

A quarter of the way down bottle number one and the smell of peppermint was overwhelming. I looked up to see Jared standing in a very reproachful position, arms crossed, staring down at me like I had just farted in the middle of church or something equally reprehensible.

“What?”

“Rebecca, what are you doing?”

“Supporting the…” I turned the bottle up to see where Grey Goose was manufactured, “French? What the hell? For some reason, I thought the Russians had this market cornered.”

“You know what I mean. You look as if you plan to be there doing that,” he pointed an accusatory finger at my bottle, “for a while.”

I sighed and straightened. It looked as if my appointment with the bottom of this bottle was going to be sidetracked by a serious dose of fucked up. “Look Casper, can’t you go haunt an AA meeting somewhere? I’m not harming anyone. Go hide my keys. I’m not driving. My work is done and I have everything I need right here so screw off.”

He shook his head. “You seriously think you have everything you need?”

“Enlighten me Captain Ectoplasm. What else do I need?”

“Someone to get you out of this funk.”

I took a long pull off of the bottle before I responded to that one. “News flash. Everyone leaves. No one sticks around. You aren’t even permanent. I am just a means to an end for you. As soon as you do whatever you need to do, you’re gone. I can’t even get a fucking spirit, Messenger, whatever to stay around long enough to haunt me decently so any advice you feel like offering, go put in a greeting card and mail to someone who gives a damn.”

“You brat.”

Oh no he did not just call me that. “Excuse me?”

“Brat. I called you a brat. Look it up in the dictionary if you don’t know what it means.”

“What gives you the right to call me that?”

“What gives you the right to drink yourself into a stupor?”

“Being a tax-paying American citizen, being of legal age to buy the shit and sitting in my own home with no plans to go anywhere for two days. That gives me the right.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Well, in that case, have at it. But you are still a brat.”

My patience was wearing really thin now. Jared was seriously fucking up my plans. “Why am I a brat?”

“It goes back to an old expression. Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened. You were 23 when your father died. Do you ever thank God for the 23 years that you had with him?”

I looked up and held out my hands in the most mock sincere form I could manage. “Thank you God for the very, very short time I had with my father after my mother left us both. Thank you for the horrific way he died and left me all alone.” I glared at Jared and picked my bottle back up. “Happy now?”

“What was supposed to happen? Was he supposed to live one day longer than you so he could bury you? Children bury their parents Rebecca, it is the natural order of things.”

“You are right, of course, why didn’t I see it before now? Mom! Hey Mom! Jared figured things out. Wait, my mom isn’t here. Oh, that’s right, she bailed twenty-two years ago! So excuse the fuck out of me for not being more appreciative of the time I had with him but I have no one else. Just me. So if I want to throw a damned pity party with just me in attendance, that is just how it is.”

“I need a bailout here.” Jared was looking up as he said that.

“Call the President.”

Jared shot me a disapproving look and started walking back and forth between me and the TV, snapping his finger. “Come on, how do I do this?”

“Whatever you are doing, could you do it somewhere else?”

Jared stopped and hopped up and down, staring up at my ceiling again. “Bibbidy, bobbidy, boo? Is anyone listening?”

“What are you doing?”

“I need to talk to someone and I can’t just poof myself there.”

“Need me to call an exorcist?”

He ignored me. “Come on! Could someone please listen to me? Jared phoning home!”

“Oh that should work.” I looked up at the blank space he was looking at. “Could someone please beam Jared back to the home planet for a while? He needs some advice on dealing with my belligerence?”

At that moment, he disappeared. Jared had been in my home for over a month and I have had the opportunity to see the poofy thing being done, but it still made me scream.


HE'S BACK

“You rang?”

I turned to see who was talking to me. “I need help. Right now, she is drinking pretty heavily and I do not know what to do to help her. I tried reasoning, throwing out a guilt trip or two, everything. She is the most jaded, cynical person I have ever met and that says a lot. I think...I think you guys were wrong. I am not the man for this job.”

“Jared, we have been over the details. You are the only man for the job.”

“Then God help her because I do not know what else to do.”

He put his hand on my shoulder. “God is helping her. Everything happens for a reason. Have you thought that maybe her stubbornness is a test?”

“Why would I be tested?”

He shrugged. “I am merely your advisor. I do not have all the answers.”

“Any answers would be appreciated.”

He laughed softly. “I’ll tell you what. It is time for the next step.”

“Which would be?”

“Your other project. Don’t forget, you have two people who need saving.”

I groaned. As difficult as helping Rebecca was proving to be, this was going to be twice as hard. “Why can’t I tell Rebecca anything?”

“She is not ready for everything. She is still in pain, Jared. That is the reason she is being so, difficult.”

“Difficult is putting it mildly.”

We stood silently for a few moments as I was preparing myself.

“How am I going to do this?”

“By not giving up. You have a tenacity that will not let you quit. Besides, look at the payoff.”

Thinking about finally getting to see her again made me smile. “How is she?”

“I am sure she is fine.”

“You’re sure she is fine? You don’t know?”

He smiled wearily at me. “No Jared, I don’t.”

There were a couple more moments of silence as I let that new piece of information set in.

“Why aren’t you doing this? You know everything about her. Maybe she would listen to you.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. I would not be able to help at all.”

“What makes me any more qualified for this than you?”

“Because Jared, you are making her listen to you. Slowly, you are wearing down her…”

“That is not what I asked! Why aren’t you doing this?”

“Protection.”

“From what? Is she in danger?”

“No Jared, it is for my protection. The powers that be knew that if they sent me in to accomplish this, it was be too hard for me to go. Hearing her on the phone the day I died, begging me to hang on, was the hardest thing I have ever done. They didn’t think it was fair to make me leave my daughter again.”

I let that one sink in for a moment or two. It was a fair enough assessment. The man would be hard pressed to leave his own child, twice.

“If we died the same night, how exactly did you talk to me at the crash site?”

“I had the same question. The way that it was explained to me is that time is relative, especially on the spiritual plane. I traveled backwards to talk to you the night of our deaths.”

“What?” This was certainly a hard pill to swallow and was going to take some explanation.

He smiled gently. “Would you believe that it was only two weeks ago here that I found out what would be required of me to cross over?”

Oh this just gets better and better. “You are going to have to explain that one. And what do you mean the things that would have to happen for you to cross over?”

“As I said, time is relative here. I got the information on who would be helping Rebecca roughly two weeks ago here. I found myself at the wreck site, talking to you, helping to guide you over. Until I saw the newspaper stand on the sidewalk, I had no idea it was the same day. That was a little eerie. As for your other question, I left with a big burden in my life which needs to be handled before I can have eternal rest.”

Ah, the clarity I sought. “Rebecca is your burden.”

He chuckled. “Well, yes and no. My burden is the condition she is in now. She is spiritually empty, emotionally empty and I was always the one who took care of her. When I heard her pleading to me to live, it was the hardest thing I have ever experienced. I knew that I was leaving her broken. I knew she would isolate herself from everyone, from the world because that is how Rebecca is. After her mom left us, she did the same thing. She piled her stuffed animals outside of her room and told me she just wanted to be alone. She built a wall around herself. After a couple of weeks, she started to cling to me like glue. She was like my little shadow, following me around everywhere. She had a few friends over the years but no one that she ever truly let in. Rebecca keeps everyone at a distance to protect herself.”

More clarity seeped in. “So, I am here to relieve your burden as well as to help Rebecca and my other assignment.”

He nodded.

“What if she is too broken? What if I can’t do it?”

“Jared, do you think you would be here, right now, if anyone doubted you?”



I hope you enjoyed this small portion of Redemption and that Jared has you wrapped around his pinkie like I am. Until next time.

Meet My Guys

What is playing? Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls

When I find someone musically that I have not listened to before and they click with me, I get all sorts of excited. My husband is a YouTube addict. Certifiable, card-carrying, addict. We had a conversation a week or so ago.

"Listen, I found a video by a band that I think you will really like. Pull up Endeverafter."

Rolling my eyes. "Okay, when I get a minute." I rolled my eyes because my husband had Enya on repeat this past weekend. Did I mention all I heard was Enya ALL NIGHT LONG? So, I don't put much stock in the hubby's musical recommendations after nine hours of Enya.

Three days ago, this happens.

"Look, I have YouTube pulled up. Just walk over and check them out."

"For the love of...fine. I will check them out."

Five minutes later, I was on iTunes buying their stuff. Next Best Thing is what the song just switched off to. And yes, I apologized to the hubby.


Character Bios

Jared Davenport is in his mid to late twenties. A biology major, he set out to make the world a better place. The main caregiver for his elderly grandmother, he calls her every night to remind her to lock her door, take her meds and double check to make sure the stove is off. At around six feet two inches with a face that lights up with his smile, this young black man could have taken the world by storm...if he had not died.

Now faced with the task of being a Messenger (a spirit who exists outside of a body with a message to deliver or a job to do, depending on the interpretation), he receives his assignments and must complete those to go on to the Heaven that he knows awaits him.

Rebecca McLeod is Jared's first assignment. Sarcastic with a mouth of a sailor, she has the look of the typical girl next door, long brown hair, green eyes but has an anger complex that weighs more than her car. Abandoned by her mother when she was three, Rebecca was raised by her father who not only was her biggest support, he was her best friend...until he died. Now two years after her father's death, she walks into her home office and finds a strange man sitting in a chair claiming she can help him get home. With her frustration coupled with anger over her loss, her abandonment issues and her resentment of God for taking her father, Rebecca makes Jared's journey precarious, to say the least.

Christian Bianchi is a 31-year-old endocrinologist living in North Carolina for the past 15 years since his Italian family moved down here for business reasons. He finished high school and went to college there, choosing to stay even after his family moved back to Manhattan. Not one to settle down in a relationship, Christian has a long line of women he has gone through until an event happens that shakes him to his core...his little sister died. Christian pours himself into taking care of his patients, hoping to save them as he failed his sister. At six feet four inches with black hair falling to his shoulders and eyes the color of the Caribbean, Christian could very well prove to be a bigger obstacle in Jared's journey home than Rebecca.

These are the three that Redemption focuses on. My next post will have a portion of the manuscript. Thank you for sharing with me. Until next time.

Redemption

What is playing on the iPod? Over and Over - Three Days Grace

Superbowl Sunday and I am a sad little Panthers fan. That being said, I am pulling for the Colts because everybody under the sun is rooting for the Saints and somebody has to pull for the boys from Indianapolis. Therefore, I will.

Book two is done. Book two is titled. Redemption is being queried. I am working it like nobody's business and sweating like a hooker in church. Nervous? You better believe it. Why? I have touched on this in earlier blogs but I am taking something that I have poured myself into and pimping it out. Statistically speaking, you have a better chance of being struck by lightning than being published. Why try? Because I am not a quitter. Never have been, not going to start now. Because since I attended the Backspace conference in Manhattan last May, I have enveloped myself in my genre, reading like there is no tomorrow. I have been a silent observer in reading groups. I visited websites.

I took all of that and combined it and wrote a character named Jared Davenport. Not only that, I had a blast doing it and wished that Jared was real so I could hang out with him. Jared is a black man in his mid to late twenties. He was a biology major. He was married to a woman named Cassandra. He also is dead. Jared is a Messenger. His place in the afterlife has already been determined but due to the unfortunate circumstances of his death, he has been picked as the one to lead two lost souls back to the paths they were originally meant to tread. To reach his wife, he has to help Rebecca McLeod and Christian Bianchi. Easier said than done. Rebecca lost her father who has been her one lone constant in the world after her mother abandoned them both when Rebecca was three. With her father dead, Rebecca has become a recluse, working at home and holding the world at a distance, blaming God for taking her father from her. Christian lost his sister who was placed in his care. The last words he said to her were spoken in anger. Alone in North Carolina, he has poured himself into his work as an endocrinologist, trying desperately to save his patients since he feels he failed his sister.

Chapter one will be posted soon. I hope everyone has a good week. Until next time!

More on the Paranormal Romance Scene

What is playing on the iPod? Gotta be Somebody - Nickelback

I absolutely love and adore Nickelback. A lot of my iPod selections are due to Kroeger and the gang. If you have the chance to see them live, do anything short of selling a child to go see them.

Anyhoo - I have had the opportunity to read A LOT in the past year. As part of learning my genre a little better, I have spent a considerable amount of time reading romances. One of the first bonafide novels I read as a teenager was Salem's Lot. Scared the hell out of me but started a love affair with the paranormal. My friend Tanisia found out I read it and with wide eyes, declared to me and everyone around that I absolutely had to read Interview with the Vampire. She brought it to me the next day and the day after that, I actually had a fever and was in bed for the next two days. I grabbed Anne Rice's book and settled in for a small crushie poo on Lestat.

In keeping with my love of the paranormal, 98% of what I have read in my investigative pursuits has been paranormal romance. I have five authors who could literally write a book on the value of dryer lint and I would be first in line to buy it. JR Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Kresley Cole, Gena Showalter and, last but very damned well certainly not least, Jeaniene Frost.

I wrote an earlier blog on this so bear with me while I repeat myself, but JR Ward's Black Dagger Brotherhood collection is droolworthy. If I met up with someone that even remotely resembled Wrath or Vishous on the street, I would probably swallow my own tongue. Day-amm. Not only are the men, um, hot but the women are awesome. Beth or Bella could have my back any day. Love those two. Not crazy about Jane, don't know why but I have never been able to buy into her. Anyway, I digress.

Sherrilyn Kenyon's Dark Hunter series has a character who goes in my top five favorites of all time. I am not a strictly romance reader. I read intellectual material as well, thank you very much (and I put that in strictly as a disclaimer for all you sucky naysayers out there). Acheron the character and Acheron the book are fantastic. Love, love, love them all, although my favorite happens to be an uptight Roman general named Valerius.

Gena Showalter has the Lords of the Underworld and the Atlantis series. Hmm.....let me write on Kresley for a moment and then I shall elaborate further.

Kresley Cole has the Immortals after Dark. You can tell a bit about a person just by their writing styles. Showalter and Cole have to be, undeniably, a couple of riots to be around. Sarcastic, smart assed, funny as hell. I would love to be on that beach in Belize that Mari was on throwing back a whiskey with these two. Not only are they going to keep you wanting more, they will make you laugh your ass off. They would fit in perfectly with me and my girls, especially if Kresley could manage to get hold of a couple of MacRieves to bring with her. Yum...

Speaking of MacRieves, the woman managed, for two books, to turn a vampire girl into a lykae fan. That speaks volumes.

Okay, now for my girl Jeaniene. I love a strong female protagonist. Establishing her badassedness can cause me to turn a page or close the book, simple as that. Allow me to introduce Catherine Crawfield, Cat to her friends, Kitten to Bones. What a heroine! She keeps me in stitches. Love her! And the men in the books? Good Lord. You have the drop dead gorgeous types (Hello Bones, Spade, Mencheres), but you have dripping sex appeal (Vlad anyone?). Vlad had me at hello. He helps Cat escape from a situation that could have been very awkward for her and on the way out, he yells "Run Forrest, Run!" I literally was wiping tears from my eyes crying with laughter after reading one of the Cat/Bones books. Jeaniene is another one of those writers I would want at the party sitting back and kicking it with the girls and discussing the different men in the room and how they compare. Platinum blond, Egyptian, British accents, pyrokinetics, you know, the usual.

Wow, I just finished my second blog for the day. Not only that, I have sent two queries. I must sign off now and pat myself on the back. Until next time!

The Last Three Days of Normal (copied from my Facebook page)

What is playing on the iPod? Knockin' on Heaven's Door - Guns N Roses

I wrote this on Sunday night while feeling a bit emotional at the very thought of my first born turning into a teenager. We have been butting heads quite a bit lately and I sat and thought a bit about the evolution of my child. From the day in the car when he kicked me in perfect time with the beat of Hell by Squirrel Nut Zippers, to watching him walk away from me into his kindergarten classroom, to watching him use his Christmas money to buy cologne, to listening to his voice deepen, the evolution is coming a hell of a lot quicker than I am comfortable with. Still, I have no choice and if I did, I would not dare hamper him. One day, I want him to be able to smile on the experience of growing up with me as a mother and be thankful for the tough love, smile at the laughs and be thankful for the values. I can only hope I am laying the foundation for him to be able to do all of those things. So, without further wait, here is my note about my first born, Carson.



Sunday, January 24, 2010 and I am enjoying the last three days of not being the mother of a teenager. I get to pretend that I am still the mother of that little baby that caused me to talk more to God in five months than I did for the ten years prior to becoming pregnant. I am going to still be the person on the gurney looking into the eyes of that precious new infant as he was being handed off to Dr. McConville while Paul and I checked nervously for any signs of Down's syndrome that had both of us scared witless for five months.

For a few moments sitting in this chair, laptop on lap (duh), I get to pretend that my oldest son is in his crib, clutching his blanket, in fetal position with his little blonde curls mopped on his head. I will pretend his biggest concern will be whether or not I put juice or milk in his sippy cup and whether he will be spoon fed oatmeal or given Cheerios in his high chair.

For the last three days of his preteen life, I get to pretend that I still have my hands on my belly, begging God to let him be healthy and begging him to be tolerant with me as I learn to be his mother and he learns to deal with the world he will soon be thrust into.
For these last 75 or so hours, I can pretend that his biggest booboo will be when he is trying to learn to walk or trying to ride his bike without training wheels, not at the hands of some girl who will hold his self esteem in her unwitting hands.

I can pretend all day long, but at the end of the day, my son will be a teenager Thursday and there is not one damned thing I can do to keep him from growing up and getting hurt.

In the last two weeks, we have found out that Carson is dyslexic. In addition, I have discovered that my son was bullied at East Lee last year. As a mother, NOT pulling into that parking lot and announcing to the entire seventh grade body that they are a bunch of mean assed bullies who need to reconsider the destructive consequences of their actions, or worse, calling the parents and letting them know the effects of their children's callousness is very tempting, but I know I would just be acting out on my frustrations and not doing Carson any good. It was not the entire 7th grade after all and there are some really cool 7th graders, the parents of whom are among my friends. Carson still has friends at East. But now, I have to come to terms that the days of being able to protect my child from everything ended the day I had the c-section almost 13 years ago.

I can not protect him. I can only hope that the foundations that have been established for him are enough to guide him and protect him from rash decisions. I can hope that the friendships he has made are the kind like I have with friends that will be with him for years after graduation. I can pray that he has the love of God with him all days and that the foundations we have given him are not only established in principle but grounded in faith.

There is a saying I found a couple of years ago that I have been thinking about a lot lately. The two most important things you can give your child are roots and wings. The wings are showing themselves lately, much to my dismay. When we brought Carson home, I wanted him to be able to sleep through the night, to be able to hold his bottle, to be able to talk to tell me what he wanted, to be able to walk and now, I have all of that and more. My son is almost a teenager and in five short years, he will be a legal adult. In five short years, I am going to have to trust that those wings are strong enough to maintain whatever flight he chooses and the roots are deep enough that the wings will lead him back home whenever he needs it.

Most of all, I have to convince myself that I can do all of this. There is a part of me that is excited to see what his future holds, but there is an even bigger part of me that wants my little one back. I don't want to let him go yet and that time is getting here quicker than I am comfortable with.

So, what I will do is thank God for the amazing opportunity to be the mother of this precious creature. For all the back talking, eye rolling, etc., etc., that he does, he also gives me the biggest smiles I have ever known. I just finished my second book (woohoo) and nothing that I will ever accomplish professionally touches what the 13 years of being Carson's mother has done. Granted, I will, no doubt, be consulting a stylist for a color consult before long (and why I have not had to do that yet is beyond me) because the child WILL be giving me grays soon.

And, if all else fails, I will give him the mother's curse. Everyone say it with me...

May God give you one just like you.

No doubt, I will do that. But I will also hug him and be thankful for every single second I have with him.

Duke as a Family Member, Not a Patient

What is playing on the iPod? Not Meant to Be by Theory of a Deadman

Friday, January 8, 2010 brought a whole new dynamic to my house. My husband had a cardiac catheterization at Duke. He has an extensive family history of premature cardiac disease and his general practitioner felt that a work up was necessary. This led to a treadmill stress test (aka Cardiolite stress test) which showed a possible abnormality. Thus, the catheterization.

Thankfully, the results were pretty good. There was a 20% blockage in one artery but truthfully, with his family history, I expected worse.

I took a writer's vantage point of the day and observed a lot. I people watched. There are many aspects of worrying, which you get to see in the cardiac ward. Some people hug and cuddle. Others smile reassuringly at their loved ones. Some sulk. Others sit and do not even try to hide the worry.

Then there are the smart asses, myself included.

Deciding that the hubby needed humor because he had paled to a light cotton ball shade, I turned into a Comedy Central act.

The IV had been set up and speaking purely from experience, I said "Hey, the hard part is over. Now they can put the happy juice in there and it's a cakewalk."

The nurse came in to shave him. To put it nicely, the access area for a cardiac cath is typically femoral, near the personal areas in other words. The hubby, despite thoughts to the contrary, turned a lighter shade of pale. I said "her hand looks a little shaky, do you want me to do this?" The nurse did not laugh but the hubby did. I accomplished my goal.

The guys come in to roll the hubby to the cath lab. We were walking and they told me I needed to tell him bye. I leaned over and said "after this is over with, I can tell the kids that we were all wrong. You do have a heart." He laughed again. Thank God he gets me because some people would not get my humor. After all, sarcasm is my preferred medium and being a champion smart ass is my mission in life.

The wait was okay and that is all part of being somewhere that you feel comfortable. Duke is one of the top hospitals in the country and it felt like we made the right decision choosing the Heart Center there. Had we been at the first place that was recommended to us, I would have been on pins and needles. Trust me, I have been on both sides of that fence and the wait for the family member is worse than being on the table. If you are on the table, at least you are knocked out, not able to think about all the things that could happen.

The hubby was back in his room in record time. He has the small, afore-mentioned blockage. His cardiologist came in and was explaining everything to us, including the need to stop smoking, to start exercise and to eat right. He eventually asked if we had any questions. Of course I did.

"Yeah, can you please explain to my husband that pork fat is not a separate food group?"

I even chuckled at that one.

The clock ticks on and it has been a very long day. Get your check ups, go for your annual physicals and take care of yourself. Quit smoking. Exercise and eat right.

Until next time.

January 1, 2010

What is playing on the iPod? Lying from You by Linkin Park

I would love to say that I have come up with something so profound and prophetic that I had to move heaven and earth to blog about. Nope. Nothing other than the significance of being a fresh start got my fingers gliding over these particular keys tonight.

On a personal level, it has been a hell of a week. I have been to Duke, twice (again, not for a basketball game, thank you very damned much) and the news is pretty cool. Everything is stable, LFTs still low. Whew. Picture my hand wiping across my forehead.

Prayers get answered everyday.

Ahhh, the song just switched over to Freaky Girl from Shaggy. That song makes me want to get up and dance.

Blog first, then dance.

There is an old superstition that what we do the first day of the year foretells what we will be doing the rest of the year. I read, spent time with family, blasted my iPod, drank copious amounts of java and wrote, not in that order.

Hey, I blogged too - woohoo!

If 2010 is going to get spent that way, it should be a pretty good year.

Have a great one! Until next time.