It's a Wonderful Death - Sarah J. Schmitt Page 0,55
changed your outcome. Now you have to hope it was enough.”
I hadn’t thought about that. “So the future has changed and I’m still a part of it. If they keep me here, how will my death be explained?” I ask, hoping for a loophole.
“Kids go missing all the time.”
I decide this might be a good time to change the subject. “Why did you pick the moments you did?”
“Because they were the ones where your life was about to go off course and lead you away from the person you are meant to be.”
“You mean, it’s all about what I learned along the way?”
“Pretty much. How’d that work out for you?”
I shrug. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we.”
Death Himself shakes his head. “You really don’t inspire confidence. You know that, right.”
“Look who’s talking.” A figure walking toward us distracts me. It’s Sal.
He gives Death Himself a nod as he approaches. “Nice of you to be on time for once.”
“Hey, no problem, buddy,” Death Himself says as he slaps Sal on the back. “You ready for this?”
Sal doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns to me. “I’ve reviewed your life journey. I must say, I’m impressed. There are some big changes.”
“I wish I could remember them all,” I admit. “There’s still a lot of stuff that’s fuzzy.”
“It’ll come,” Sal assures me. “But we don’t have any time to wait. The Tribunal is prepared to rule on your appeal and wash their hands of it. Even with everything you’ve accomplished, this is still going to be a tough sell.”
I nod in agreement. “I think I’m ready.”
“Good,” he says, leading the way up the stairs. “And just for the record, a lot of people here are pulling for you to win.”
“Really?” I ask. “I’m surprised anyone cares. Besides, wasn’t there supposed to be some type of gag order?”
“Are you kidding? No one can keep a secret around here.”
I look around self-consciously but I don’t see anyone or anything. I breathe a sigh of relief as we near the entrance of Judgment Hall. Sal pauses, his hand on the door. “I should also mention that the room is going to look a little different from before.”
“How so?” I ask, as we walk through the door. He motions with his eyes for me to turn around. When I do, a thousand faces peer back at me. Angels are seated in the balcony while souls fill the seats on the floor.
The first person my eyes focus on is Grams, sitting in the front row directly behind my chair. On one side of her is Angelica and on the other is my grandfather. Madeline sits next to him at the end of the row. I glance up and see Yeats and Hazel sitting in the first row of the balcony.
Sal gives me a slight shove and I walk numbly into the room. As I pass the back row, a hand reaches out and stops me. It’s Saint Peter.
“Al wanted to be here,” he explains, “but no one was willing to babysit the mutt, so she wanted me to tell you to knock ’em dead.”
“Thanks,” I choke out. “Why is everyone here?”
“Some want to see you crash and burn.”
From my mouth comes a sound that is a cross between a single chuckle of surprise and the last dying breath of a water buffalo. This makes Saint Peter smile with delight.
“Others are curious,” he continues. “But most of us are here to make sure you get a fair trial and get your second chance.”
“Come on,” Sal hisses. “You do not want to make Azbaugh any madder than he will be when he sees this circus.”
I let Sal propel me to a chair and focus my eyes over the crowd of heads as they twist to get a good look at me. When I sit down, Grams reaches over the rail separating us from the audience and squeezes my shoulder. “Everything will work out exactly as it should,” she says, trying to reassure me.
It doesn’t work.
A moment later, the flapping of wings captures everyone’s attention, and I look up at the dais in time to see the Tribunal descending. Azbaugh’s eyes are staring straight through me like he’s wishing my very essence into oblivion. As he pounds the gavel to bring the crowd to order, I’m starting to wish the same thing. What if I lose? What if everything I did turns out to be pointless? What if they don’t see enough good in my life?