Dead Sure?: A Paranormal Mystery (48 page)

BOOK: Dead Sure?: A Paranormal Mystery
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Angela smiled at him warmly, her eyes remaining calculating and mysterious. She slid the champagne bottle from its resting place amongst the ice and began to pour.

Jack sat down as she handed him a glass. “To a bright and successful future, I truly appreciate all of your help and bravery.”

Jack clinked glasses with Angela and took a long swallow of the softly bubbling champagne. “I’m feeling very confused. I can clearly see you and Tim made it back with me and that’s fantastic! The part I don’t get is how I ended up in an office with my name on the door.”

Angela studied him appraisingly for a moment, tipping her head slightly to the side. “Yeah, that was really quite some feat, wasn’t it? I’ve always been good at planning and even better at executing.”

“Yes, as you said, it was quite some feat, but that doesn’t answer the question how?”

“Don’t you think if you know all of life’s little mysteries they tend to loose some of their luster?” She paused as if about to say more and then took another drink from her glass.

“Okay, I guess there’s some truth to that. But business aside, there are a lot of things nagging at me about before I went back in time. Stuff like ghosts, possessions, magic paintings, you know?”

The pallor of Angela’s face shifted from her normal cool demeanor to an expression of anger. To Jack it appeared as if her eyes had become as black as a moonless night. Jack tried to nonchalantly shrink further back in the booth. Her stare was boring through him. He could feel his palms beginning to sweat. Finally, he looked away as if saying in a non-verbal method “enough is enough.”

He could feel her hand gently touching his. She had reached across the table and was patting his hand in a reassuring manner. Her touch was warm and welcoming, in direct contrast to the interaction that had just transpired between them.

“I’m sorry about that, Jack, which is not something you’ll hear me say often. I don’t really know if I could explain it all to you even if I wanted to.”

Staring directly at her again, Jack saw a whole different person. Angela’s cool in-control persona had transformed. She appeared tired and worn down. The look of arrogant defiance was completely lost.

“I’ll give it a shot. Did I possess Rene? The answer to that is yes, I was trying desperately hard to do that. Although, now in this alternate future I don’t think she’ll recall any of it. When I swore vengeance on Charles something happened. It really defies explanation,” she paused as if trying to find the words to continue.

Jack felt sorry for the person who sat before him now. “Maybe it doesn’t really matter anymore. As you mentioned, parts of it never really happened, at least for some of us.”

Angela sighed, her composure starting to regain a little of its former luster. “Perhaps, and yet it’s like this; that oil painting was of me as a little girl standing on the porch of my childhood home. The emotions I feel towards the portrait are quite deep. Somehow, I think my spirit aligned with it, carrying me forward, and it wasn’t just my spirit but Bill’s as well. The partner I sent to..” she stopped herself short. “Well, let’s just leave it at that.”

Jack took a long drink from his glass, draining the last of the liquid from it. Normally, it took a substantial amount of liquor for him to feel anything. But not today; he was already feeling a bit loopy, or maybe he was just worn out. “So is the construction company really mine?”

This made Angela smile. “Mostly; I retained a forty percent interest in the place. A lady does have her needs,” she finished, raising her glass for a toast.

Jack started to laugh, pouring more champagne and clinking glasses. He felt so tired and giddy, he just kept laughing; one of those uncontrollable laughing spells brought on by overwhelming emotions all balled up into one.

Angela started to laugh as well, softly at first, and then hysterically like Jack. The two of them kept feeding off each other; the situation was contagious. Anytime one would start to subside, the other would fuel the fire with some other funny thought and the merriment would continue.  

 

*   *   *

             

“I know it may be hard to swallow, but that’s what happened. I’m so sorry I was never able to get back to you. There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think about you,” Tim finished, tears welling up in his eyes.

Rene had been listening intently to her father’s tale, saying very little for fear if she interrupted him he might just disappear again and she would never know. Occasionally, she couldn’t stop herself from asking a succinct question, but mostly she sat in motionless silence listening diligently.

“I consider myself very new age and open minded, but this story sounds so over the top.” She hesitated and continued, “This is something I would rarely say, can you prove it?” Rene folded her arms across her chest and tried to sound resolute. Inside her though, the little girl was in turmoil. She just wanted to believe him and welcome her daddy back.

Tim studied his daughter for what seemed like an eternity and then replied, “Your boyfriend Jack can confirm what I’m telling you about time travel is true. As for actually doing it, I have taken the two items mentioned and hidden them away in their rightful place,” he sighed. “I really hope nobody ever disturbs them again. The consequences can be very devastating.”

Rene sat there trying to remain stone-faced, pondering everything she had heard. Could she really believe it all, even if Jack did confirm the story?
Why not, I believe in reincarnation, chi, and many other unseen things. Why not this, is this tale really any more out there?

Rene jumped up from her chair, quickly moving around the table to her long-lost father. Bending over, she threw her arms around him and squeezed. She hugged him hard, her grasp tightening as the minutes ticked on.

Tim returned the hug, warmth ebbing through him. He realized how truly lucky he was. Rarely do you get second chances, and he was going to make the most of his.

 

 

 

             

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

About the Author

 

Eric Webster lives in Wisconsin with his wife and two children. He is an avid car enthusiast and rarely passes up on the opportunity to buy another one, much to the chagrin of his wife. If it is an impractical muscle car so much the better.

 

He is currently outlining ideas for his next novel. Possibly something set in the colorful city of New Orleans. A place he visited recently and found full of fascinating people and historic charm.

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