Don't Fear the Reaper (29 page)

Banning turned to Jordan. “Have you tried talking your sister out of it?”

Jordan continued pretending to read through the last page in the manual entitled
lawnmower repair
. “No. Have
you
ever tried talking her out of something?”

Banning laughed. “Good point.”

Jordan, Daniel, Banning and I slipped through the side door out of the basement. Silently, we made our way down the street, looking for a ride. Jordan wasn’t an angel yet, and I hadn’t completed my first true reaper job, so we were still stuck traveling like earthbounds. It took two cars and a bus, but we reached the hospice center ahead of schedule.

I smiled at an old woman sitting in a wheelchair on the front porch. A beige knitted quilt lay across her lap. Her family, including two grandchildren, surrounded her. I’d once told Banning how I’d envisioned myself with my own grandchildren. We walked around the woman and her family and through the front doors.

The same receptionist from my first visit here with Banning sat behind the information desk. And, as before, she was unaware of our presence. We walked down the hall, through the double doors to the family area. I noticed some of the nameplates under the room numbers had changed since we’d been here a few days ago. The pretty young mother in room thirty-five was gone. I thought about her family and children.

The family who’d been visiting the dying grandfather was still here, though. The young boy sat away from them as he had before, playing with a video game. Except this time I think the kid had a portable PlayStation. Daniel and I exchanged grins.

I turned to Banning and paused at the door of the room we were about to enter.

“I’m okay,” I assured him as he gave me a concerned look. “Just nervous.”

“Well, that’s quite understandable,” Banning replied. His eyes were the same forever-blue I remembered waking up to after I died. I glanced at the man lying in bed in room thirty-three. When I took his soul, would he see eyes the color of emeralds?

“We’ll wait out here,” Daniel said, Jordan by his side. He wrapped an arm around her. “We’ll be fine.”

Jordan returned the hug and nodded in agreement with Daniel. This was between teacher and student. I’d have a couple of years to prove my worth as a reaper before I was on my own. If all went according to plan, Banning would then ascend to join his wife and daughter, leaving me alone to take his place in purgatory. It hurt just thinking of it, and my face grew warm with guilt that I should want Banning to stay longer, to never leave me.

Daniel led Jordan to a pair of empty seats next to the kid playing video games.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” I called out to Daniel. He winked as he took a seat right next to the kid.

“How much time?” I asked, as Banning and I walked into room thirty-three. We carefully skirted around the two women hovering over the dying man.

“Five minutes,” Banning told me. “Keely?”

I looked up at him.

“You’ll do fine,” he said.

I smiled. “I’ll do my best. Your wife and daughter need you,” I reminded him. “You’ve been separated for far too long.”

Banning smiled, those sunbeams gracing the corners of his eyes at the mention of him reuniting with his family. “I’m just sorry that you’ll be separated from your sister. And when your parents die, you’ll be separated from them.”

“Not forever,” I replied. “They’ll visit whenever they can. And someday, someone will take my place.” I didn’t know that for a fact. Daniel had warned me that there were reapers who were thousands of years old. Still, I hoped this was true. Reapers can only ascend to heaven if someone else vows to take their place as I’d done for Banning. Visits with my sister wouldn’t be as simple as calling each other or popping into each other’s rooms, but Jordan would come back whenever she could. Eventually, we’d see each other again.

“Well. Ready?” Banning asked.

“Yeah. Ready.”

I walked up to George Manero’s bed and leaned forward. He’d lost more weight since I’d seen him a few days ago. Whenever he took a labored breath, I heard whistling and rattling in his chest. His eyes were heavy-lidded and watery. The skin on his arms appeared paper thin and waxy.

He stared past me, past Banning. “I know Jake, I know,” he said hoarsely—barely a whisper.

I looked at the doorway. The dog Jake appeared, tail wagging and growing less spectral as he made his way to his master. Jake propped his head on the edge of the bed and whined.

“Has he come to visit you again, Dad?” the daughter asked, trying to smile as she patted her father’s arm. It was the same placating pat and smile we’d given Gram when she’d sworn she saw her parents waving to her, beckoning her to follow them. How little we knew then that it wasn’t the morphine. Gram had been telling us the truth.

Mr. Manero’s family couldn’t see Jake and Mr. Manero didn’t answer his daughter’s question. Instead, with great effort, he turned his head toward his family. He tried to move his hand to take theirs. His mouth worked, but nothing came out.

His wife and daughter gently took his hand into theirs.

His daughter wiped away a tear. “We love you, too.”

“Now rest, Dear. Rest,” his wife said.

Tears streamed down their cheeks. They’d given him permission, although it clearly took everything they had to do it.

Mr. Manero’s eyes found mine.
I’m ready
, I heard him say in my head.
I’m ready, young lady
.
Jake, buddy? Lead the way home
.

Jake placed a paw on the edge of the bed.

Mr. Manero shuddered.

“Now,” Banning whispered.

“Don’t be afraid, Mr. Manero,” I said. “Take my hand.”

I’m not afraid, miss. But, I’ve something to say
, I heard in my head.
Give me strength, my angel of mercy. Give me strength.

Banning reached over and touched Mr. Manero’s leg. The simple gesture must have given him the strength he needed. His face no longer appeared tortured. He turned his head a final time toward his family, speaking almost perfectly. His voice raspy, but coherent. “Take care, pretty ladies. See you later.”

He sighed long and slow as he looked back at me, expectantly.

Now what?
I heard him say.

I thought of myself as an old woman, waiting for the reaper to come for me. “May I have this dance?” I asked, sliding my hand into his.

Mr. Manero tightened his hand around mine. With one last breath, his soul slipped from his body while his family wept.

Jordan woke early that Friday, her quiet sobs stirring me from a dreamless sleep. We’d slept in my room since Jordan’s was taken. Aunt Jen had decided to stay and help Mom and Dad get ready for my funeral. No one had wanted to sleep in my room and it had remained a shrine, a place where relatives popped in one by one last night to say their personal goodbyes. Mom had given a few of my things to family as keepsakes, but otherwise everything stayed as I had left it.

I pulled my sister close and we held each other as we cried.

“Different schools,” I whispered in her ear.

“My school’s better than yours,” Jordan replied, her voice quivering.

“My school’s cooler, though.” We both laughed to hide our tears.

We dressed, each choosing clothes from the other one’s closet. I tried on two or three of Jordan’s outfits, standing in front of the mirror while Jordan gave her opinion on which black pullover sweater of hers looked best.

“You need a leather coat,” Jordan said. “You can’t be a reaper without a cool coat.”

“Think it’ll have a scythe in it?” I inquired.

Jordan smiled, but pretended to mull this over for a moment. “You can’t even run with scissors and you want a scythe?” she joked.

“Careful, or they’ll never give you a halo.” In an odd way, laughter helped to keep some of the sadness from consuming us. It would, if we let it. Despair was a demon of its own.

Jordan shrugged. “It’d probably rust. But, you look good in black. Especially with
your
eyes. They’re really awesome, Keely.”

I looked in the mirror again. It was hard
not
to notice them. The mossy green eyes I’d had when I’d been alive were now more emerald than I’d expected, offset by a line of black around the irises. My dark hair made them stand out even more. But Jordan was right—they were more than awesome. They were six shades of awesome. Maybe Banning was right—I could do some good this way, maybe even right a few of my wrongs.

We kissed our parents on the way out the door. Mom and Aunt Jen were in the kitchen, putting coffee cups and spoons in the dishwasher. Everyone kept offering to do things for Mom, but she shrugged them off, claiming she needed to stay busy. Dad pretended to sip the last of his cold coffee as he watched a hummingbird drink from a feeder in the backyard. I wondered if he saw it the way I had that morning, if the sun shined a bit too brightly for his liking. Life had changed. For all of us.

The air felt cooler this morning than it had been all week. We waited outside, giving my family time to get into their cars. Banning, and Daniel were traveling by their own methods and would meet us at the cemetery. Jordan and I rode in Aunt Jen’s minivan, along with Mom, Dad, Grampa Wayne, and Uncle Frank. I could have gone the way Daniel and Banning had, but Banning hadn’t taught me how yet, and I wanted to be with Jordan, who was still stuck traveling by earthbound methods. It’d be her last time.

Mom didn’t cry the whole way there, but started weeping once we reached the cemetery. Dad did his best to console her. Next to me, Jordan stared helplessly at them, too. We clutched each other’s hands and shared weak smiles meant to assure the other that our parents were made of strong stuff and would get through this.

We followed everyone to where my casket sat above my final resting place. A green tent covered the site and a row of chairs lined the graveside. The funeral director ushered Mom, Dad, Grampa, and a couple of the other, older relatives to the front row.

I was glad it wasn’t the wet, dreary funeral I’d dreaded. It was a crisp, mostly sunny day with white, billowy clouds stretching across the sky. Ground fog rested in small wisps in the shadiest of areas. Tree leaves glittered gold and red in the morning sun.

Banning, Daniel, Jordan, and I stood several yards away from the crowd under a canopy of trees, careful to keep a safe distance from the living.

We watched as family and friends collected around my grave. My parents wore the same clothes they’d worn for Jordan’s funeral. They looked older now, as though ten years had passed instead of just a few months. Grandpa Wayne, Uncle Frank, Aunt Jen and her husband, Bill, huddled next to them. Uncle Lou stood behind with his wife, Becky, and our three cousins. Behind them stood a dozen or so friends of the family and a few members of Dad’s office.

All my friends were there, too. I never realized how many friends I really had. They lined the entire back row. Gina was crying, her head buried in the crook of Miles’ shoulder. I felt a slight pang of jealousy though I knew there was nothing between them. Miles had never worn a suit before. I stared. He was as handsome as I’d ever seen him, even with the frown on his face and his eyebrows pinched together.

I signed to Miles.
I’m right here.

“He loves you, too,” Jordan said, making me smile. It wasn’t a happy smile—more of a longing one. I’d miss Miles so much. Jordan brushed my arm in sympathy. There were times I found it annoying the way Jordan could tell what I was thinking, but this wasn’t one of them. Our lives had been altered forever, but the way we understood each other hadn’t. Not even death could do that. Kind of like the feelings I carried for Miles. We’d always be a part of each other and carry a special place in each other’s hearts.

You are in death as you are in life.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. Even in death, some things change. And that was a good thing. At least I hoped to make it that way. A funeral for a suicide victim who thought she couldn’t deal with life seemed an odd place to become an optimist. If I’d been Daniel, I would have found a way to make a joke out of it. As much as he’d irked me in the past, I’d become accustomed to it and accepted that it was his way of dealing with the afterlife. I glanced at Daniel who was still staring at Miles.

In the end, becoming a reaper wasn’t such a hard decision. Unlike the myriad of choices I had while living, there were only four in the afterlife: angel, demon, reaper, earthbound. As unsure I was of the afterlife and what it held, this was the way I could make the biggest difference. I’d like to think I’d have done something important with my life when I was alive, but I no longer existed in that world.

Sure, the future wouldn’t be easy. But, being that I was dead and eternity had another meaning now, the future seemed like a pointless thing to worry about. Like the morning at the bird feeder, tomorrow would happen no matter what. And, I would see Jordan again. Things would always be different, and when I got used to them not being different, I hoped someone would do for me what I had done for Banning. I couldn't undo the night when I’d taken my life. All I could do now was hope I’d make good choices going forward.

Mom broke down and Dad hugged her, his shoulders quaked as he cried, too.

“They look really bad,” I said.

Jordan took my hand and squeezed it tightly.

“They’ll do all right, Sunshine,” Daniel assured me. “If they’re anything like you two, they’ll get through this.”

Jordan forced a broken laugh. “A reaper called Sunshine.”

My casket was exactly like Jordan’s—dark mahogany with a beautiful spray of white and red roses on it. I read Jordan’s headstone: Jordan Elizabeth Morrison. Like hers, my headstone was dark gray. The name Keely Anne Morrison was etched across the front. Our birth dates were the same. Only the dates of our deaths were different.

The minister, a man I’d never met before, stood before the forty-plus people who’d gathered to bid me farewell. Mom blew her nose as Dad took a deep, shuddering breath. The minister addressed everyone and then flipped through his copy of the Bible. Everyone grew quiet as a slight breeze drifted across the cemetery. I caught sight of a flock of small birds darting and twirling through the air before they came to rest in a tall sugar maple nearby.