It's a Wonderful Death - Sarah J. Schmitt Page 0,45
Think you can help a stranded girl out? I would hate to hitchhike. Today doesn’t seem like a good day to die.”
I mean it as a joke, but his eyes cloud over and I know where I’ve seen them before. But it couldn’t be who I think it is. “No,” he says, a slow, mischievous smile spreading across his face and I think he’s going to tell me I can find someone else to act as my chauffer. “I don’t think it’s a good day to die, either. Come on.”
“Seriously? Thank you so much. I’ll pay for gas,” I offer, giving him my most pitiful look.
It must work because he laughs. Not one of those uncomfortable ones people give when they want to disappear. But a laugh that starts in the gut and rumbles through the body until it bursts past the lips.
As we walk toward the parking lot, I ask, “What’s your middle name?”
“Why?”
I shrug, trying to play it off like it’s a random question. “Just curious.”
He gives me a quizzical look before answering. “It’s Trevor.”
Chapter 18
Like the last time, the silver cord tightens and pulls me out of my body and the nanosecond it takes to get back to the Afterlife is all I need to put two and two together.
“Daniel!” I scream, searching the mist in desperation. “Where are you? Daniel. Trevor. Whatever your name is. Answer me.”
“He’s not here, dear,” a calm voice says behind me.
I spin around, eager to know what is happening. Did I change things? Is he still dead? But all the questions disappear when I meet the baby blue eyes of my Grams. Without a word I hurl myself into her waiting arms and hold on tight. All the emotions I’ve been holding back rush forward. It’s been so long since she died and there are a lot of things I want to say to her.
I start with the most important. “I love you,” I say, as the words trip over each other and mix with sobs. “I’ve missed you so much.”
She strokes my hair. “Shh, child. There is no need for tears.”
Her words only cause me to cry harder. She pulls me closer and begins rocking me like she did when I was a child, and, for a brief second, I wonder if staying here, with her, wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
“It’s a horrible idea,” she admonishes me.
I look up at her in surprise. “How’d you know what I was thinking?”
Instead of answering she asks, “Do you remember when you were a little girl and your mother would bring you over after school?”
“Yeah, you always had cookies ready for me.”
She nods. “And as you got older, you started to play a little game, didn’t you?”
My eyes grow wide. “Yeah, but I never told you about it.”
“No, but you did, didn’t you?”
I nod, speechless for a moment. “I would, uh, try to predict what cookie you were going to make. I thought I was psychic or something.”
Grams shakes her head. “Sorry, my dear, you are completely normal. But you and I do have a connection I’ve never been able to explain. I always knew which cookie you were thinking about.”
“That’s so weird. Maybe you’re the mind reader.”
Grams throws back her head and her familiar laugh fills the air. When she’s done, she smiles at me. “Maybe we both have a sixth sense when it comes to each other.”
I grin. “It’s probably because I’m your favorite grandkid, isn’t it?”
She just pulls me close again and holds me so tight I can barely breathe. Even though I can’t feel it, I sense the warmth that only a grandmother has. Finally, I pull back and look to her for answers. “Grams, where did Daniel go?”
“I would suppose he’s back on Earth.”
Relief washes over me. “He’s alive? That means he didn’t kill himself?”
Nodding her head, she looks at me with pride. “No. After he took you home, he thought about it. He left your house and headed back to the school. But as he was sitting in his car, he got a text from you. Do you remember what it said?”
The memories of my old and new lives are still mingling in my brain. “I think so. Didn’t I ask if he wanted to be my friend?”
“Almost. I think it was more like, ‘Since I probably don’t have any friends left, do you want the job? I’m high maintenance and kind of a pain, but if you’re interested, press one. If you aren’t, I understand.’