I Never Thought I'd See You Again: A Novelists Inc. Anthology (18 page)

“Right. I only have now. And I’m doing what I want. Just because Ben is helping me, doesn’t mean it’s a bad idea. Do you want them to poke and prod me more? Do you want them to know you think about killing me?”

“I don’t.”

He stared at me fiercely, then conceded with a shrug. “Think about killing him, then.”

“How do you know they suspect?”

“When the shrink steps away, I open my file and take pictures.” He held up his phone.

“Let me see.”

The pictures were blurry, but the words sharp. Lab rats indeed.

Inevitably, the last day came. I treated it as a morning like every other, just as I had the last, last day. When I went up to wake him for breakfast, I found him in my studio, staring at the blank canvases.

“What are you doing here?”

“I like this room.”

“I’m sorry. I should have given it back to you. We’ve just been so busy.” After the pyramids had been a score of other adventures, big and small. The Eiffel Tower, learning to ocean kayak, the Grand Canyon, the prom. Some of the plans were grand, and I refused to consider where they were coming from.

“No. But you should have painted. You should paint.”

“One day.” The blank canvases, the unopened pots of paint, the dry clean brushes all seemed to whisper a rebuke that echoed his.

“Tomorrow. First thing. You won’t have to make breakfast for me, so you can paint.”

“What would I paint?” Something dark moved in my mind, something too fearful to make real with paint and canvas.

“Me, on the roller coaster, at the very top, right before the drop. Promise me.”

“Okay.” It was easy to agree. He wouldn’t be here tomorrow to check.

As if he knew what I was thinking, he said, “I want someone to witness your promise and make sure you keep it. Nancy can. She’s my second mother, after all. shrugged. “">
“ma”

I had forgotten how Jake had called Nancy his second mother. Ben had coined the term for me, first. To keep the listeners from ending this last day early, I frowned to remind him the boggy ground we tread. “Nancy will have better things to do. She’ll have to help Ben make up an entire lost year.”

He stood up, grabbed a brush, opened a pot of paint and splashed a wide snaking line of red on the standing canvas. “There. I’ve started it for you. That’s the roller coaster. The Red Menace. Promise me you’ll finish it.”

“I will.”

He smiled, but I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not. I wanted him to believe me. “I’ve watched you ride a million times. I can paint that scene with my eyes closed.” That was nothing but the truth.

“Today, you have to ride with me.” He saw my objections and cut them off. “I’ll hold your hand. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Once,” I agreed. A mental image of a roller coaster car breaking free, flying through the air, landing miles from the amusement park flashed through my mind. How easy was it to disable a latch? I drew in a breath. If Jake could dare it, so could I. “Just this once.”

“And we’ll invite Nancy and she can ride with us. It will be all of us together, like old times.”

All of us. He meant that Ben would be there, too.

“She knows, doesn’t she?” The truth hurt and yet at the same time seemed like something I’d always known. Why else would she have agreed to let me take her son’s precious borrowed body so far from home. Because he’d asked her. Because it was his grand plan of atonement. It would serve her right if the car did fly off today.

Jake said, still conscious of the listeners, “Everyone knows it’s my last day. No one will mind if Nancy plays hooky with us.” He added, softly, “I’m ready to go.”

The breeze of the seconds flying by chilled me. “If you don’t want to go, I’ll make it happen.”

He stilled, his eyes growing wide as he stared at me. His little fingers found each other and twisted together tight.

Knowing Ben was one of the unseen listeners, I added, “If we can touch the pyramids, we can do anything.”

Jake’s fingers let loose. “I just want to see you ride the roller coaster today, like a good lab rat.”

I thought about the rat poison in the garage. Had Jake found it and thrown it out? Or was it still there, ready and waiting?

Nancy met us at the gate. She was smiling, but I could not. Old times were old, and hard, and painful. I didn’t want to relive them. Jake walked between us, our physical buffer. My son and her son all rolled into one.

The roller coaster ride was all heart in throat, and bated breath, and a rush of air between every stillness. No time to truly worry about all the things that could happen until I was back where I started, almost startled to realize that no cogs fell off. No latches let go. We were whole. Jake. Me. Nancy. shrugged. “">
“ma

Jake’s eyes were shining. “Well?”

I wanted to give him something from me that would last forever, even if his forever was coming to an end. “I like the climb,” I conceded, “but I still don’t love the parts where we plunge. I just don’t trust this bar.” I tapped the padded bar that locked us in.

“You just have to give yourself to it, Mom.” He laughed. “The hardest part for me isn’t the drop. It’s when the ride is over.”

There were no words to reflect the depths of that truth. I squeezed his hand.

Nancy said, “The day isn’t over. You two keep riding. I’ll go get some snacks for . . .after . . .”

She’s offering nothing and everything. I take everything. “Thank you. Jake’s favorite is blue cotton candy.”

Jake added, as Nancy climbed out of our car, “Don’t forget pretzels with mustard. And caramel corn.”

As the car began to move away from her, I said, “Not the best last meal in the world. The doctors may not be pleased.”

“I’m not the one who’ll have the stomach ache tomorrow.” There was a flash of sadness in his grin, until we started climbing higher and then he gave himself to the roller coaster ride.

I snapped a picture with my phone just before we began the climb once again. I didn’t capture the face, which wasn’t really Jake’s. Instead I captured the strong, long fingered hands resting on the bar that kept us from hurtling to the ground — little fingers linked together, ready to help him master the coming drop.

The car started climbing and I put my hand over his; we linked our little fingers.

We rode like that, never stopping, until the counselors came to get us and take us back to the doctors in their white coats and beeping, whirring machines. We ate the cotton candy, and the popcorn, and the pretzels, on the ride, and didn’t stop until it was all gone.

Jake looked at me, and then at Nancy. “Ben and I agreed. I’m going to tell them the truth. I have to. We’re good lab rats.”

When they came into the

Once upon a time Deb Stover wanted to be Lois Lane until she discovered Clark Kent is a fraud and there is no Superman. Since publication of
Shades of Rose
in 1995, Stover has received dozens of awards for her cross-genre fiction. For more information, please visit
www.debstover.com
.

Marshal Sam Weathers might be dead, but he could still smell trouble. He kept a wary eye on Henry, Transition’s ugliest resident, black blizzardsd Sta as he removed his Stetson. “You want me to
what
?”

Henry folded his beefy hands on the golden desk separating them, his expression unreadable. “You heard me right, Sam. I want you to go back. I know this is complicated.”

Sam snorted as he dropped into a small marble chair. Heaven probably had nice soft clouds, but Transition had the hardest damned — he darted a glance at Henry — “Complicated how?”

“You were assigned to me because I was in law enforcement, too,” Henry explained on a sigh. “Since I was a New York City cop better than half-a-century after you died, I’m not sure why that matters.”

Henry was determined to jaw on and on about his life. This might take a while. Sam stretched his denim-clad legs out before him and crossed his ankles. Even as jeans go that a man died in, these were in sorry shape. ‘Course, it wasn’t like he needed a new pair now.

“Of course, there’s no such thing as time up here,” Henry continued. “Not that it would make any difference if there were — all things being eternal.”

“I reckon.” Sam pinned his gaze on his so-called superior. “So let’s get this right. You want me to go back where?”
He arched a brow. “Or is it
when?
”

Henry’s fleshy jowls reddened as he bobbed his bald head. “Now.”

Sam ground his teeth. “Pardner, where I come from ‘now’ means 1896. What’s it mean to you?” He didn’t even know how long he’d been here. “I been waitin’ to join my missus in Heaven. What’s the hold-up?”

Henry cleared his throat. “It’s the twenty-first century, Sam.”

“Now if that ain’t the tallest tale ever told, I dunno what is.” Sam chuckled and fidgeted with his hat, but that infernal gut instinct he’d always trusted pricked him. “I reckon it’s no more strange than me jumpin’ into Paul’s body back in 1896.”

“That’s for sure.” Henry cleared his throat.

Sam wanted to deny it, but it wasn’t like he had a calendar. “Twenty-first? I reckon you ain’t foolin’.”

Henry’s expression grew solemn. “The new Millennium, Sam.”

“Don’t that beat all?”

“Hard to believe.” Henry opened a large, gilded book and stared at the page. “As I’m sure you recall, your death was pretty . . . unusual.”

“Bein’ murdered ain’t all that unusual.” Sam quirked one corner of his mouth, remembering the events that followed. “I reckon you mean me borrowin’ Paul’s body to hunt down that no account Buck Landen.”

“Yes. That.” Henry stared at the page in silence. “Not to mention your own descendant being thrown back in time to witness your murder.”

Sam held his breath, hoping what he was about to say wouldn’t land him in more trouble. “I always figured feelings about your dady vo somebody up here was responsible for that.”

Henry blinked, surprised by the remark. After a moment, he nodded. “I see your point.”

“Henry, if you were stabbed by a lowdown sidewinder, then looked up and saw your double, wouldn’t you do the same thing?”

“Well . . . maybe,” Henry glanced around nervously, “but spirit possession is frowned upon, Sam, no matter the motive.” He returned to the page. “The fact that you eventually let Landen go is the only thing that saved you.”

With a weary sigh, he met Henry’s gaze again. “That’s why I’m stuck here? For borrowin’ Paul’s body and all?”

“I would assume.” Henry closed the book and pressed his palms against its cover. “Sam, I’ll be blunt. This is your second chance — For all I know, maybe your last one.”

“My . . . ” Sam released a long, low whistle. “Reckon this is some kinda test.”

“Maybe. I’m not sure. I only do what I’m told. Remember, I’m trying to get promoted, too.”

Sam chewed his lower lip. “So they want me to go back down there in the twenty-first century.” He leveled his gaze on Henry. “Why?”

Henry’s expression hardened. “To stop a killer.”

Sam’s gut twisted and he could have sworn his heart slammed against his ribs. Just like in the old days, his hunger for justice niggled him. No, that was too mild. It gnawed at him like a hound after a soup bone. He leaned forward. “Don’t they have marshals in this new Millennium?”

“They didn’t tell me why — only that you’re the man for the job.”

Sam rubbed his clean-shaven jaw. At least a dead man’s whiskers didn’t grow. Still, dead was dead, and Transition was more tedious than a long-winded Baptist preacher. “If I catch this here killer, I get into Heaven?”

“I’d figure that’s the plan.” Henry lifted a shoulder. “Look at it this way — what have you got to lose?”

“That’s a fact.” Sam rose, sliding his Stetson into place and wishing he had his sidearm. “I don’t reckon you got my badge and pistols handy.”

Henry laughed, his jowls jiggling. “They won’t do you any good now. Things are different.”

“Will I get to see Paul and Winnie?”

“I have the map and details where you’re to be sent.” Henry’s expression grew sympathetic. “You’ll have identification and a job. You’re expected by the Oklahoma State Bureau of Investigation.” A grin curved his lips. “And what makes you think Paul Weathers will want to see you after you borrowed his body and took him on a mad chase through Indian Territory?”

Sam smiled. “I reckon he will.”

“Like I said, this is the spot you’ll be sent. I don’t know exactly where it is or who you’ll first meet there.” feelings about your dady vo