Pieces of Hope (15 page)

Ethan
looked softly into my eyes, dropping his shoulders and his chin, then tilting
his head a little to the right. As he tightened his brow, the outer corners of
his eyes pulled down, and his mouth parted slightly. It was the most innocent
expression I’d ever seen in my life. I understood exactly what I’d be up
against if he ever used it against me.
  

“That’s
pretty good,” I marveled. “Did it come in handy?”

“More
than you can imagine.” He flashed a wicked grin.

“What
else?” I begged. “Give me one more.”

“I speak
a little Gaelic. Try to, anyway. It’s an old Irish language—rather difficult to
master. My great grandfather was born and raised in Ireland, and Dad lived there until
he went off to college in the states. That’s where my mother and he first met.
But after I came along, they made sure to visit Ireland every summer. Poppy’s been
gone almost five years now, and not a day goes by that I don’t I miss him. He
was an amazing old guy.”

He had a
faraway look in his eyes. I could tell he was thinking of his great
grandfather. And then, just as quickly, the memory faded.

“Sure
you’re ready for this? Bad Gaelic is my specialty.” I nodded a little, and he
added, “I’d love for you to see Ireland
with me someday. It’s not a fair comparison, but it’s almost as beautiful as
you are.” I smiled so big my cheeks started to ache.

A few
seconds later, I was all ears as Ethan dazzled me with a few words of Gaelic.
The language wasn’t as fluid as French—more guttural like German—but I could
hear the age of it as he spoke. Though he took the time to translate, it wasn’t
really necessary.

“
Dia
dhuit
,” he
began, his voice even deeper than usual. “Technically, that means ‘God be with
you.’ But the locals use it more as a greeting, sort of like hello. There’s
also
 
Cronáim
thú
—I miss you. Oh, and we shouldn’t
forget the ever popular
Tá
mo
bhriste
tri
thine
!” He laughed, and I laughed with him, secretly
wondering why he’d taken the time to tell me that his trousers were on fire.

At last he
explained, “I don’t know why Poppy taught me how to say that, but he used to
laugh till tears ran down his face whenever I did.”

We were
quiet for a few minutes after that, listening to the glorious sounds around us,
our own private concert. Then Ethan stood and took my hand, and without a word,
we walked closer to the falls. In real life, there wasn’t a fly-fishing stream
anywhere near nor was there a view of the falls from this side. The ground
sloped down at such a steep angle that it was impossible to stand without
tumbling down the hillside. But in Ethan’s version, a level platform of earth
made a perfect site for viewing.

As we
looked down at the rocky pool at the bottom, I had a sudden inspiration.“Let’s
climb down and put our feet in the water!”

“There’s
no easy way to get down there,” he said. “The sides are too crumbly.” Then he pointed
out the obvious. “Besides, you’re wearing a dress. That can’t be the easiest
thing to climb in . . . though I’d love to see you try.” He flashed an
effortless smile. It was a good thing I saw it out of the corner of my eye; that
way I didn’t feel its full-impact. It was sort of like being sideswiped instead
of struck in a deadly head-on.

Taking a
second to compose myself, I motioned toward the falls. “Why not take the
stairs?” Before us, a wide set of steps led the way down to the small pool at
the bottom. If he could fudge reality, so could I.

“What—?”
he began. “Oh, that’s right,
you
have
connections.”

I took a
step, but Ethan scooped me up in his arms and carried me down. Though he was
watching where he was going, careful not to drop me, I was looking only at him,
my arms tight around his neck. His body was so solid, so warm, the twin beating
of our hearts so real. When at last we reached the bottom, a gentle mist sprayed
our faces.

“Hope, I
know I didn’t answer everything you asked . . . But like you said, we have all
the time in the world.” Ethan’s deep voice drifted up at the end, leaving a
giant floating question mark in the air, begging for an answer. Suddenly, I
felt overcome.

I wanted
to reassure him. I wanted to tell him that, soon, we would pick this up in the
living realm—that I was merely taking a break from life, a vacation of sorts. I
wanted to say these things and yet I questioned if I possessed the courage to
return to my body. Experience the pain of my accident all over again
and
my mother’s death?

And what
if things were different for us there? Should I even assume there would be an
us
? What if Ethan didn’t find me as
fascinating in the living realm as he did here? No one else seemed to think I
was. How could the real world ever surpass what we had here?
   

Despite
my turmoil, I nodded to assure him. When I did, I saw a flash of something out
of the corner of my eye. A shadow. Or maybe not. It was above us, near the top
of the falls, not quite in the right place for a shadow, on the wrong side of
the sun.

And
then, it hopped. A sudden chill ran through me.
 

Startled,
I looked back at Ethan, realizing with a laugh that it must have been
Rin
and Charlotte, or possibly
Creesie
,
spying on us. I was about to mention this to him when his image flickered like
a light bulb about to go out.
  

“One
last thing . . .” A seriousness settled into Ethan’s eyes that stifled my
words. “I dream about them, Hope—more now since I’ve met you. Actually I dream
about us, and our lifetime before. It’s you. It’s me. I’m sure of it.”

For some
reason, my trip inside his head came to mind. The girl, the lake, the war . . .
Was she supposed to be me? And was Ethan actually himself, but in the body of
his past life? Same souls, different bodies? Was that what the dream had meant?

“You
need to come back . . .” Ethan urged, pulling me from my thoughts. “We may not
have much time.”

To
lighten the mood, I reminded him, “That’s your so-called truth talking.”

“There
may be a logical reason for it. You need to come back so we can make it right.”
He spoke so softly I could barely hear him. “Next time, there can be no
falling. . .”
    
 

9
First Loves

When
Ethan suddenly vanished, I landed with a thud on my backside.

Despite
the stupidity of it, I shouted into the blackness, “Wait!
Wait
! What does that mean . . . no falling? Is that code for
something?”
 

As I
scrambled to my feet, a gentle voice called, “Hope, are you there?”

Frowning,
I didn’t respond. Was there no such thing as privacy here?

“Hope?”
Creesie
called again, louder this time.

Lost in
my head, it was easier to ignore her. Clearly, Ethan remained convinced of our
earlier lifetime together. What wasn’t so clear was why I didn’t feel as
certain of it. I wanted to believe him, but I couldn’t recall any dreams of
other lifetimes of my own. As I pondered his mysterious “falling” comment, I
slipped into something more comfortable—a silky sweater, darker jeans, my
favorite sneakers. But I imagined my hair in two braids instead of the
ponytail. It kept my too-wavy hair off my face.
 

“This is
no time to dilly-dally, young lady,”
Creesie
commanded.

Then, as
if someone had drawn back a thick velvet curtain, a bright shaft of light
appeared from nowhere. A small, dark head peered inside. Linoleum tiles in
burgundy and beige were visible beneath
Creesie’s
feet.

‘“Next
time, there’ll be no falling,’” she repeated. I cringed as I imagined all that
she had heard. Her eyes twinkled. “No, I wasn’t listening the entire time,
merely the last few minutes. You can’t blame me, really. He is quite the
romantic. But you’ve completely forgotten the process of unraveling, haven’t
you? All in good time,” she mumbled. “All in good time . . .”

“Sue me.
I’m human.” But I appreciated her keen observation of Ethan.

Her foot
tapped impatiently, but she was smiling when she said, “What are you waiting
for—a written invitation? That can be arranged, you know.”

Squinting,
I leapt into the brightness, and observed that we were back in the main hallway
of the hospital, directly across from the elevators.
Creesie
dropped her arm and the east end of the hallway fell back neatly into place.
There wasn’t a wrinkle, crease, or flap in sight. In fact, there was no
indication we had just passed through anything.

I
eyeballed
Creesie
with scrutiny. To the best of my
knowledge, the only route of travel was through the Station. As we trotted
around the corner to the ICU, we made no sound as we walked. Nor, without some
effort, could I detect the floor beneath my feet. Was this a bodiless thing? If
so, it was eerie, to say the least.

“Isn’t
there something you’d like to tell me?”

“Oh!”
Creesie
looked a little startled. “Did I forget to mention
shortcuts?”

I
groaned, slapping a hand on my forehead.

“Did you
miss the tour guide training program?” I asked.
 

Creesie
pealed with delight “Your mother mentioned you had
a delightful sense of humor. I agree. You’re an absolute hoot!”
    

“Great,”
I said, narrowly avoiding a nurse as she hurried past. “That should make me
very popular with the over sixty crowd.”
Creesie
gave
another pleasant snort. “I am a little curious, though . . .” I paused. Was it
rude to ask? “What sort of occupation did you have before . . . I mean, before—”

“Before
I died?” she asked in an easy tone. At least with this mind-reading thing I
didn’t have to nod. “Believe it or not, for over thirty years, I was a fourth
grade teacher.”

“That is
hard to believe,” I admitted. “Are teachers usually this forgetful?”
 

Wagging
a finger at me, she laughed again. “I keep telling you it’s this place. The
living always think we have nothing to do when we’re dead. Whatever gave them
such an idea? We have a lot on our minds. A lot!” she repeated, churning along
at a steady pace.

Inside
the oval-shaped enclosure of the nurses’ station, nothing much was going on. A
few nurses were chatting in low voices, answering phones, or scanning computer
screens. I could only imagine what
Creesie
had deemed
so urgent that it necessitated a shortcut, but I could think of several
fabulous ways to use one in the future.

As we
leaned against the counter, opposite my room, she apprised me with a long, glowing
look of approval. “That’s lovely,” she said. “You’re dressing much better these
days.”

“What
can I say? I’m working my way out of a funk.” I gestured toward my body,
motionless and sickly pale.

“Yes, your
body really doesn’t look so hot,” she said matter-of-factly.

I made a
face. “Thanks.”

My
family, sprawled about the room, filled up every square inch like some sort of
frat party gone bad. Snoring loud enough to wake me from the dead, Dad and his
brother, Donald (who resembled an older Matt Damon) were reclining on two
chairs at the foot of my bed. With her neck crooked at an awkward angle, Gigi
slept beside me in that hideous green chair Ethan had once occupied. The second
bed held Brody and my sister. He had wrapped himself around her like an
overgrown vine—Claire beneath the covers, Brody on top. Dad’s orders, I would
bet. He had always been fairly pretty strict with us. It was good to know that,
despite my recent departure, he was keeping a close eye out on Claire. She
usually needed it.
    

I
glanced at the clock on the wall, noticing the pale light peeking through the
wide window of my room. “What are the visiting hours around here, anyway?” I
asked. “It’s only what, five in the morning?”

Not
bothering to turn her head,
Creesie
continued to
stare at my body. I detected a trace of something hidden in her expression, and
I didn’t think it was anything good. “It’s one of those new-fangled hospitals,
open 24/7, supposed to be better for the patient.” The expression faded, and
Creesie
looked back at me.
      

“Hmm . .
. just like 7-11,” I joked, but my voice cracked. I could feel my family’s pain
even through their slumber, and something close to guilt coursed through me.
This was entirely my fault and I knew it. Several times, it had occurred to me
that all I needed to do was return to my body, wake up, and their pain would
ease. It wouldn’t completely go away. After all, Mom would still be gone. But
it would definitely lessen . . .

And yet
that reason alone wasn’t enough to make me come back. Selfishness held me
prisoner. I knew very well why I hesitated.
 

As the
seconds passed, I became more agitated, their anguish melding with mine,
expanding and festering, growing larger than I could contain. Not meaning to, I
snapped, “Why’d you bring me here, anyway? Are you trying to guilt me into
going back?”

Creesie
took her sweet time answering. Moments later, she
stepped away from the counter, and motioned for me to follow. Rather than
taking the shortest route, and zipping
 
through the nurse’s station, we took the long way around, stopping in
front of an identical room opposite mine. It was empty the first time I’d
explored the ICU. I was certain of it.