The Return (16 page)

Jim was near tears. He nodded weakly. "I woke up one morning a few days after she died and found it in my computer. Apparently I had been up the whole night typing it in." His shoulders slumped. "That's the only explanation I have for its being there."

Jean felt cold then. Like a portion of the dark dirt of Mother Earth, a portion far beneath the surface that remained hidden as the years of man went by. A portion that was never supposed to be uncovered until the end of time. The cold was both terrifying and thrilling.

"Something I said reminded you of that story?" she said.

"Yes."

"She said in the story that she wanted to be remembered?"

"Yes. Those were her last words."

"But you wrote the story?"

Jim, Jimmy, wept then. He held his head in his hands as the tears trickled silently over his cheeks. "I don't know, Jean. I'm like you, I just don't know anything anymore."

Jean reached over and hugged him, and as she did so a wonderful glow radiated outward from her chest. The simple act of being able to comfort him meant so much to her. As if she had wanted to hold him in the past but had been unable to do so. She ran her fingers through his hair and pressed her face against his.

"I have to read that story," she whispered. "Please let me read it. If I don't I'll never know who I am."

He sniffed, embarrassed, his face damp. "But you're Jean Rodrigues."

She drew back, but continued to hold on to him.

"Yes. But I don't know who she is. I feel like I've had two lives. At the beginning of the summer I also fell off a balcony. And since then I've been walking around in a dream. I have to wake up, Jimmy." She stared downat his hands, then let go of him and looked at her own.

"I have to understand how I can now type stories I couldn't imagine before. I couldn't even write a one-page paper all the time I was in school."

"When did you fall off the balcony?"

"I don't know the exact date. It was a Friday night, two weeks before I was to graduate from high school."

"Shari died two weeks before she was supposed to graduate."

Jean looked over at the computer. It waited on his desktop like a modern Aladdin's lamp. She only had to rub the keyboard a little and the megabytes genie would appear and offer her any wish, except the wish for more wishes.

But what could Shari Cooper, sitting like an angel on her brother's shoulder as he labored unconsciously in the dark, have asked for in her story except for another chance to be alive?

I want people to remember me. Sometimes memories just weren't enough.

"Let me see it," she pleaded.

Jimmy went over to the desk and sat down and booted the computer. A menu appeared on the monitor listing files. He moved his mouse around and the computer beeped. Then he stood and offered her his chair. "It's a long story,"

he said. "It'll take you several hours to read. I can leave you alone until you finish it."

She stood. "You don't have to leave."

He raised a hand. "I want to. I have never let anyone read it before. I think it will be hard for me, you know, to sit here while you go through it." He wiped at his face and forced a grim smile. "I might start crying again. Guys aren't supposed to cry."

Jean stepped toward him and gave him a hug. "I'm scared, Jimmy."

"What are you scared of?" he asked, holding her.

"What happened to her. Who she was. Is her story scary?"

He let go of her. "Much of it is, yes. But much of it is beautiful as well. You'll see. I think it ends happily."

Jean glanced past him at the computer. "I'm glad."

Jimmy nodded and left her. This strange girl he hardly knew from the wrong side of town, all alone in his apartment with the most private aspect of his life.

Jean wondered at his trust, but then realized he felt the same way about her that she felt about him. A love so old it must have been alive before they were born.

Jean sat down in front of the screen. She moved the cursor. Words appeared.

Dark and disturbing and beautiful words.

*****

Most people would probably call me a ghost. I am, after all, dead. But I don't think of myself that way. It wasn't so long ago that I was alive, you see. I was only eighteen. I had my whole life in front of me. Now I suppose you could say I have all of eternity before me. I'm not sure exactly what that means yet. I'm told everything's going to be fine. But I have to wonder what I would have done with my life, who I might have been. That's what saddens me most about dying—that I'll never know...

*****

Jean read only a small portion of the book. She didn't have to read much.

Before the party began, the birthday party that would stretch over a nightmare period of events and end days later in a dreary funeral, and finally days after that culminate in another murder attempt, she knew all the characters. All their names, their likes and dislikes, all their passions and hatreds. All their secrets as well, and it was those especially that made it clear how it would end for Shari Cooper, and why it was that she did die so young. Jean, in fact, knew everything about the story. Because ...

"I wrote it," she whispered aloud.

She remembered.

I remembered.

I, Shari Ann Cooper.

CHAPTER XI

I FOUND THE RISHI sitting cross-legged in meditation by the stream where I had left him. Peter was not with me; I told him I had to have a private talk with the Rishi, which hurt Peter's feelings a little. Peter had become worried on the flight back from the center of the galaxy. I wondered if he could sense my insight into what a problem his suicide was going to be.

Quietly I sat down on my knees in front of the Rishi. He was still wearing his blue silk robe and looked as wise and wonderful as ever. After a minute or two he opened his eyes.

"More questions, Shari?" he asked softly.

"Yes. Is this a good time? I don't want to disturb you."

"No problem. What troubles you?"

"Several things. I was wondering when I would return to a physical body?"

"In a few minutes."

"Why so soon?"

"Because you are ready to return now. And I don't want you to postpone it. The more time you spend enjoying the freedom you have on this side, the harder it will be for you to go back. Besides, do you know how much time has passed on the Earth you knew since you died?"

"No."

"A year. I see your surprise. Time is not a constant throughout the creation. It is as much a product of consciousness as space. Here time is different. At the center of the galaxy it is even more different."

"But I thought I would have more time to goof off over here. I mean, there's still so much I need to learn before I go back."

"No. You know all you need to know. Also, I will continue to watch over you while you're on Earth. I will guide you, have no fear." He paused and briefly closed his eyes. "Besides, Jean Rodrigues is ready to take her fall. I see her now. She stands on a balcony overlooking the city much as you stood on a balcony before you left your body. Her mind turns to God. She prays for help."

The Rishi opened his eyes and there was much love on his face. "We have to help her."

"But there are a few things that still confuse me. When we first talked, I assumed Peter was also talking to someone like you, a great teacher."

"Yes. He talked to me. But he saw me in a slightly different way and he called me Master."

"At the same time we talked?"

The Rishi smiled. "Time is time to me. It is all the same."

"What did you tell him?"

"Many of the same things I told you. I answered his questions. But we did not talk about Wanderers." He paused again and studied her in that gentle penetrating way he had. "I see what is in your heart, Shari. You want him to return with you."

I nodded. "Yes. Is it possible?"

"A better question would be, is it advisable?"

"You don't think it is?"

"Trust your intuition, Shari. What do you think? Or better yet, what do you feel in your heart would be best for him?"

I shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. But I sense the issue of his suicide is a problem, after all. More of a problem than I realized before we went into the light. Is that true?"

The Rishi nodded, and for once his expression was grave. "Human life is the greatest of God's gifts. Because it is only in a human nervous system that a man or woman can realize God. Even the angels in the highest heaven have to be born human to attain perfection, to become a Master. To purposely throw away such a gift is an unfortunate mistake. Don't misunderstand me—Peter is not damned because he killed himself, despite what certain religions might say.

He will learn from his mistake and go forward like everyone else. It is simply that his suicide slows him down. He doesn't have all the opportunities open to him at present that you do. Naturally, though, these will be his in the future.

God forgives all mistakes even before they are committed. It is important that we are able to forgive ourselves."

"But didn't Peter do that before he stepped into the light?"

"Yes. That is why he was able to follow you. You helped him in that way, as he helped you in other ways. But the consequence of his suicide will still be there when he returns to a physical body. There is a term for this—karma. His suicide created difficult karma for him."

"How will that karma take shape?"

"It can take a variety of shapes and forms."

"But you don't want to tell me?"

"Many of these things are up to Peter. As far as I know, he hasn't said anything about wanting to return to the physical right away."

"Because he doesn't know I have to go back. You said I am to return in a few minutes and I feel a lot of pressure. Can the three of us talk about it before I return?"

"There is no pressure, Shari. If you don't wish to go now, you may go later. It is simply that the time for the change is auspicious for you as well as Jean. But another auspicious time will arise. It always does. But certainly the three of us can sit and talk together before anything is decided. I can bring Peter here now."

"In a moment. I wanted to say that if you feel the time is ripe, then that's good enough for me. I'll go and quit whining. I really am grateful that you set this all up for me. But I wanted to ask you—how long will I be on Earth? You said I'd write stories that millions will read. Does that mean I will live to a ripe old age?"

"No. It may be that you return for only a short time. I spoke of this period of transition that is fast approaching on the physical plane. Just as many Wanderers are incarnating on Earth to help with the transition, many with negative vibrations are also returning to stop it. They will not succeed, but they can upset the plans of many men and women of good will. In particular, they dislike Wanderers and attack them when they have the chance."

I shivered at the idea. "Can they spot a Wanderer?"

"Many of them can. Many of them are highly evolved, but in a negative way. I know that sounds like a contradiction, but it is not. One can evolve either positively or negatively. The interesting thing is whichever way you choose you end up merging into the divine. The divine is all there is. But the negative path takes much longer and is no fun. There is no love on that path. Those of negative vibration crave power and dominance. That is their trademark. You can spot them that way. They try to place themselves above others. They feel they are especially chosen by God for a great purpose. But God chooses everybody and all his purposes are great." He paused.

"One of the negative beings might kill you. It's possible."

"But can't you protect me?"

"Protect you from what? Death? There is no death. I have nothing to protect you from."

I nodded. "If they do get me, then I'll be back here with you. That won't be so bad. But I would like to help humanity as much as I can while I'm on Earth.

What else can I do besides write my stories?"

"Meditate. I will guide you to a genuine Master. Do service. Service performed without the expectation of reward brings a glow and richness to life. Study people who are always helping others. They are happy. You will have a happy life even if it doesn't last forever. That is my promise to you."

I bowed my head in gratitude. "Thank you." I sat back up. "And now I suppose the hour grows late. Please have Peter come."

CHAPTER XII

MY IDENTITY CRISIS was over, even though I didn't know I'd had one to begin with. Jean Rodrigues's memories were still there as clearly as was her body, and so was I. The fusion of her life with my soul brought me no confusion.

Although I could not clearly recall everything the Rishi had told me, I remembered him well and trusted that he would not have put me in a body where I didn't belong. Before I did anything, even as I stood up from Jimmy's desk, I thanked him again, as well as said a prayer for the original Jean Rodrigues. But I knew she was well because she was with him. My Master.

I turned off the computer. I could read the rest of it later. Stepping onto the balcony that adjoined the apartment, I saw my brother sitting three stories below beside the pool and staring at the water. I remembered how I had sat beside him in the car after I died, while he drove from the morgue to the condo where I had been killed. How he had pulled off to the side of the road and wept.

How I had wanted to take him in my arms and tell him everything was all right.

And now God had given me that chance, I thought, and here I was crying. The pool was practically right beneath me. My tears must have been landing on his head. He looked up in my direction.

"Have you changed your mind about reading it?" he called up to me.

I shook my head.

"Has it upset you?"

I shook my head.

"Do you want me to come back up?"

I nodded.

I was sitting at his desk when he came back in, studying the picture of my past incarnation. Honestly, I couldn't decide whether I looked better then or now.

One thing for sure—Jean had bigger breasts. I was glad I hadn't gone out with Jimmy and let him touch them or anything. I would have just died.