Don't Fear the Reaper (15 page)

Two of the firemen passed through me, and I felt a burst of extreme cold so raw and glacial it hurt. Big time. I stepped away, frantically wiping at my arms. God, I hated purgatory. I made a mental note to avoid walking through anyone, or ever have them walk through me. Good thing it was normal to avoid running into people and walls.

The ambulance with the injured man drove off, lights flashing. The fire truck had begun packing up, too. A tow truck driver had arrived and was talking to one of the cops. They finished loading the woman’s body into the ambulance, and I felt a pang of sorrow for her.

Coax her to go, Banning. Don’t let her see this. Don’t let her watch the ambulance take her body away.

“It’s okay,” Banning’s wife told the woman. “Come with me now. You can’t stay here. They’re waiting for you. All of them.” She shot Banning an uncomfortable look.

The accident investigator got out of his vehicle and met with the remaining paramedics.

Now, Banning. Hurry. Convince her to go.

I wondered why her loved ones hadn’t shown up. Maybe they couldn’t bear to see her body or the accident scene. The dead woman nodded slowly as she reluctantly turned, still trembling, to take the angel’s hand. Like the others, they faded into sparkling diamond dust, leaving behind the dull glow of the streetlight in their wake.

Banning stared after them for a long moment. The cops were diverting traffic around the flares and cones they’d set up. Accident investigation had arrived. A man took the lens cap off a camera to take pictures. The tow truck driver connected a chain under the Mercedes front carriage.

Banning stood in the midst of all the turmoil, looking so lost among the bustle of the accident scene. So lost among the living.

“Banning’s wife… did she die in an accident?” I asked Daniel.

“Yep,” he replied. “And his daughter did, too.”

Daniel and I stood and watched Banning. It was almost as bad as the accident itself. Banning stared at the wreckage, unwavering, his shoulders slumped. The cops waved traffic around the debris.

“Not good,” Daniel said.

“Definitely not good,” I echoed.

Purgatory was such a dismal place that I’d grown accustomed to Banning’s strength and resolve. Uncertainty rustled inside me. “What do we do?”

“Do?” Daniel asked.

“Yeah, like how do we make him feel better?”

Daniel stood with his thumbs hooked in the front of his jean pockets. “I don’t know. In his shoes, what would make
you
feel better?”

He had a point. Life was out of the question. So was going back in time. Since I clearly had no connection to heaven, talking to his wife was out of the question as well.

“Come on,” Daniel said. “Time for Sunshine to do her job.”

Either way I thought about it—attitude or the way I died, a ray of light was the last word I’d use to describe myself. I consoled myself that Daniel was at least more moody than I was. Of course, being a demon, I suppose he had good reason. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

“You just are,” he replied. “Banning likes you.” He gave me a nudge in Banning’s direction.

“But you’re the funny one,” I said, feeling my face grow warm. “Go cheer him up.”

“We weren’t exactly buds before all this, you know? Besides, I don’t think it’s humor he needs. Don’t make me go over there alone, okay?” He leaned in and whispered, “It’s not good for my reputation.”

Banning remained motionless as Daniel and I stepped off the curb, mindful of the traffic. Old habits die hard and I didn’t want anyone passing through me again. We walked around the tow truck loading up the last car. The entire front end was crumpled where it had collided with the woman’s Mercedes. A totaled car would be the last thing on the driver’s mind when he found out he’d killed two people.

Banning glanced at us briefly as we came to stand beside him, then he went back to staring at the accident scene. Daniel nudged me again, wanting me to say something first. But, I had no idea what I
could
possibly say. This was more Banning’s scene. He was the expert at death and loss. Not me. We both shared one thing in common, though—the people we loved, the only ones we had a chance of being close to in death weren’t with us.

“This is how it happened, isn’t it?” I asked. “I’m so sorry.”

The way he looked at me, I knew it was true. Banning, his wife, and his daughter had died in circumstances similar to this one. “I’m so sorry,” I repeated.

After the accident we went back to the house because I didn’t know where else to go and Banning had remained far too quiet. My time with my parents was growing short. Tonight would mark forty-eight hours since my death. Dad and Aunt Jen had gone to the airport to pick up Dad’s parents. Mom was sleeping, completely out of it. So for now, being with them
seemed
safe. I’d ask Banning what we should do later, after the rest of the family arrived. They weren’t all staying here, but I was sure some of them would.

Banning sat on the sofa, head resting in his hands. I hated seeing him like this.

“She’ll come around,” Daniel said to him. “The accident was
years
ago.”

Leave it to a demon to say the wrong thing.

“Look, it’s gotten better between you two. She’s talking to you again. So it’s good, right?” Daniel said.

I didn’t want to point out that Banning’s wife had been a bit on the cool side, but now that Daniel mentioned it, the situation could’ve been worse. At least they weren’t screaming and they certainly weren’t ignoring each other. They just appeared to be at odds.

Banning looked at Daniel as though unsure of how to respond. Daniel wasn’t trying to be an idiot, but tact and manners weren’t his strong points either. I suspected hell didn’t require anyone to take lessons in etiquette. Daniel cleared his throat and shot me a pleading glance.

“When you died, did anyone survive? Did you have any other children?” I asked. It sounded logical. Maybe his wife blamed him for leaving one of their kids an orphan. Maybe Banning decided to stay in purgatory, still a reaper so he could remain close to another child. If so, this might be a good time for a visit. Anything that might help comfort Banning.

Banning ran a hand through his hair and slumped further down into the couch. “No. There weren’t any survivors.”

I got up from my chair and went to sit next to him.

His eyes flickered in my direction. “What do you want to know, Keely?” he asked softly. “How I became a reaper?” He let out another sigh. “You aren’t the only one who has a guilty conscience. There’s a real difference between you and me, though. I truly
am
responsible for my family’s death. In one evening, in one regretful act, I killed my wife and daughter.”

I shook my head. Banning didn’t seem the killer type. I wouldn’t believe it. Daniel said it was a car accident. Some other driver probably ran a right light or swerved into their lane. Or maybe the road conditions were bad. A tire blew. A deer ran across the road or a tree fell in front of them. Of course, I knew there was another way to kill someone. The night I died, I’d taken more than one life. In a way, I’d taken my parents’ lives, too.

“My wife and daughter were in the car with me,” Banning continued. “We’d been to dinner, celebrating the opening of my own practice. My wife and I each drank a couple glasses of wine. Actually, Laura, my wife, had three. We lived less than ten minutes away and the roads weren’t crowded back then. It was winter. I hit a patch of black ice crossing a bridge and over corrected, sending us into a ravine.” His words faltered.

“Laura died first. When I died, I found her ghost cradling our daughter against her—or trying to, anyway.”

I recalled how I’d tried to reassure my parents the other night. How I’d pleaded for them to hear me, to know I was right there at their side. I wished they’d been able to sense my presence. The pain I’d felt then was like nothing else. I pictured Banning and his wife watching their daughter die alone, crying as they tried uselessly to console her.

“We were so helpless to do anything…” His voice caught, and I knew he couldn’t bear to tell us what happened next. The memory was far too painful.

I placed my hand on Banning’s. I figured now might be as good a time as any to return the favor. I wanted him to know I was there for him. He didn’t need to go on if he chose not to.

I imagined the whole scene—a reaper standing over their child, coaxing her to take a final breath. Both Banning and his wife unable to do anything except suffer through it. The pain I’d gone through with Jordan and my parents was more than I thought anyone should bear. Until now. Now, I understood more than I ever wanted to about how my parents must feel.

“That night, when I died,” Banning managed to say with considerable effort, “When we
all
died, I became a reaper. I kissed my wife and daughter goodbye. I begged their forgiveness. My daughter hugged me tightly, although Laura...well, she hasn’t completely forgiven me. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being a reaper, but at least, I could still do
some
good. Laura disagreed. I’d chosen to become the very thing that took our daughter’s hand in death. I stood and watched as my family became angels and went into the light. I wouldn’t be long, I promised them. That was fifty-five years ago, so Laura is a bit angry.”

Banning would never have jeopardized his family, never have taken the wheel if he’d thought there was any real danger. He couldn’t have known the outcome any more than I could have known what would happen to Jordan when she left that night.

Because you remind me of someone…

I should have kept quiet. I shouldn’t have been so insensitive, but I had to ask, “Do you get to spend any time with your daughter? Even once in awhile?” The question was for both of us, really.

He closed his eyes, but I didn’t need to see into them to understand. My heart sank.

“Rarely,” Banning said. “Laura doesn’t like her to come back here.”

“Fifty-five years? Really?” I asked. “That’s a long time to be a reaper.”

Banning shrugged. “Not as long as some, more than others.”

I scanned the room for Daniel, but at some point, he’d left. I guess he’d heard this story before and decided to be elsewhere. That’s what he’d tell me even if he
hadn’t
heard the story before.

“It’s okay, Keely. I know you’re curious.” He forced a smile.

It was so unfair that his whole family died. Life could be fragile. I knew that. One day, everything seems fine, and the next, it’s
never
the same. One life changes so many. Death was equally as fragile, and if nothing else, more lonely. Desolate. I’d once thought I might get some relief when I died. I could only imagine Banning’s sorrow. I felt in many ways responsible for Jordan’s death, but Banning? Wow.

I couldn’t breathe. Only my parents had seen Jordan’s body—for identification purposes—and her funeral had been closed casket. They’d also found me in the tub. It had been one thing for me to see my body, but for a loved one to see it, bleeding, broken, and dying? How had Banning managed to exist without going mad? Certainly, an eternity of madness was preferable to what my parents and Banning had witnessed.

“Why do it? Why would anyone choose to become a reaper?” I felt sorry for Banning. Sorry he had to go through what he did, sorry that I kept asking questions. I knew all this talk made him relive his pain all over again. But, I had to know. Everyday, Banning watched people die. He coaxed them to let go, to cross over into the afterlife. He wasn’t who they’d expect or want to see in the moment of death. In fact, he was probably one of the last people anyone would want to see. Reapers weren’t loved or revered. They were symbols of death, despair. End game. No one understood what it might be like to be a reaper. But right then, I thought I had a decent idea of what it took—a dark angel, an angel of mercy. Banning
was
still helping others. He just hadn’t bargained for the gig to last this long.

He stared at me then, like I’d hit on a subject so close to the surface that he didn’t know how to respond.

“It was an accident,” I tried to reassure him. “Two glasses of wine. I don’t know, but I’m guessing you probably would’ve wound up in the ravine no matter what you did. You shouldn’t have to do this. It’s beyond any punishment—”

“Doesn’t change what happened, Keely. They still died.”

“It’s been more than fifty years!” I cried. “After all this time you mean you can’t go on? I’m sure you’ve done a lot of good things since. Helped a lot of people. Where’s the replacement you were promised?”

“No one ever mentioned when I would get a replacement. I never asked. But, someday, right? One day, someone will take my spot and I’ll get the chance to be near my family again.” He laughed. “I hope Laura will forgive me for becoming a reaper. I hope she’ll forgive…”

He broke off and I shifted in my seat. I knew what he’d been about to say—that he hoped his wife would forgive him for making a deal with the devil over a suicidal girl he didn’t know, when he had his own daughter waiting for him.

“Your wife’s an angel. I thought once you went to heaven, you had to forgive everyone and everything,” I said.

Banning chuckled. “Not exactly. Neither side is as pristine or as wretched as people think. Even the devil has some redeeming qualities.”

“The devil?” My jaw went slack. “No way!”

“Yeah.
Way
,” he replied. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s not a good guy, either. Have you ever watched old movies? The black and white ones with mobsters? He’s like Al Capone, only with bigger guns and a shorter temper.”

I smiled and shook my head. “No, he’s more like a CEO or a politician.”

Banning laughed hard at this one and I was glad to see it.

“Seriously,” I said. “How do you sign up for that—being a reaper?”

“I replaced another reaper,” he replied matter-of-factly. “The one who had come for me and my family.” He glanced around, apparently noticing Daniel’s continued absence. He didn’t seem particularly alarmed.