The day was bittersweet when
I got the call from the publisher wanting to publish my book, Cat-astrophic. I
was in Maui with my stepdaughters to spread my husband's ashes in his favorite
lagoon. When I missed the call, I was dressing and mentally preparing for his
emotional send-off, but the caller left a voice message.
I
needed to hurry because we were to meet at the catamaran. I peeked at the
message, skimming the words—I think they liked my book! I gulped and wanted to
listen to the message more carefully after Ken's send-off.
We
set sail on this perfect/imperfect day—complete with two juvenile humpback
whales cavorting off the front of the boat. The sound system was playing Frank
Sinatra's—I Did It My Way as we drank champagne in a toast to Ken's remarkable
life.
I
only wished Ken had lived long enough to see my career take off. I Did It My
Way certainly held for me also, or perhaps my song would have been, I Did It
The Long Way. I wrote that book over seven years ago, made many edits, and
rewrote big portions of it before sending it out to almost a hundred publishers
and agents! But better late than never, right?
Before
I left Hawaii to return home, I also got four more offers—didn't that sort of
thing only happen to the famous writers?
To
say the day was bittersweet is an understatement—bitter that Ken wasn't with me
on this ride, but sweet knowing someone valued my work. I know Ken was with me
in spirit saying, "Atta Girl!" And he may have had his spiritual hand
in the mix somehow.
Excerpt
She put the flowers on the coffee table and moved her hand toward the sofa. He sat, and she did too. “Didn’t you have something you want to talk to me about?”
Momentarily, he couldn’t remember what it was.“Did you forget?” She gave him an encouraging smile. “So much has happened. It seems like ages ago.”
Then it came rushing back to him—Dr. Sims—the things he remembered and the yearbook pictures. He sat with his hands clasped and his head down, thinking. Was now the time to tell her? He jerked his head up. “I’m not sure this is a good time to tell you what I know.”
She frowned. “That sounds serious.”
“It is and a bit weird too.”
She leaned forward and clasped her hands together. “Why don’t you tell me, and I’ll decide how serious it is.”
HB shifted on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position. Finding none, he straightened and looked at her. “You know I felt like a different person when I came out of my coma?”
Alison nodded but remained quiet.
“And I wrote about the rescue at Cedar Springs?”
She remained stock still.
“I started adding one plus one, and I came up with something bizarre out there.”
Clearing her throat, Alison finally said, “You’re scaring me.”
He noisily let out his breath. “I’ve been seeing a counselor, and he told me about one of his patients, Ashton.” HB paused and rearranged his thoughts. “I talked to Ashton, who told me he had tried to kill himself but failed.”
“Oh, no!” Alison cried. “Please don’t tell me you want to kill yourself!” She leaned forward and tried to grasp his hand.
“No, I want to live again!” He let her touch his fingers before pulling back. Although contemplating suicide might be easier than telling Alison he was her dead husband—Robert.
“Anyway,” HB swallowed, “Ashton told me about soul walk-ins.”
“What did you say?” Alison asked, alarm creasing her brow. “Wait!” She jumped up and hurried down the hallway while he waited. He moved his forefinger over his thumb, wondering what would make her leave like that.
She returned with a small book, sat, and clutched it to her chest as if protecting it. Then, slowly, she eased the book onto her lap and opened it.
He murmured the title. “Communicating with the Dead… So you believe in that?”
“I don’t know what I believe. But this book mentions walk-in souls and—”
“I think I have Robert’s soul in my body,” he exclaimed before he could change his mind.
HB didn’t mean to interrupt her, but it just happened. He couldn’t help it. He watched as
Alison’s eyes rolled back, and she slumped over.
“Alison?” He patted her hand and then her cheeks until her eyes fluttered open.
“How…” She looked confused. “Why? What?” She fell back on the couch. “I don’t believe it,” she said with a shake of her head, and her features turned stony. “I think you should leave.”
“What?” HB cried. “No! No. I’m sorry!” Tears immediately filled his eyes. “I knew it was a bad time.”
“What a cruel and mean joke to play on me after what I’ve gone through!” Her eyes flashed with anger, something he couldn’t pinpoint.
“I’ll let myself out.” He jumped up. He’d blown it with Alison, and she didn’t want to believe him. And he might not have a chance to convince her.
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