somewhere else, somewhere you don’t want to go. I’m here to warn you because I love you and I don’t want you to make the wrong choice. I have to go now. I don’t know how many more times we will see each other, so please, do as I say and let me go.”
“Wait! You said I have a destiny to fulfill. And what about the gift you left behind for me? When do I get the gift? When do I learn what my destiny is?” I am sobbing and rambling now, desperate to keep him with me.
“I’m sorry; I can’t give you the answers. You must figure it out for yourself. I have to go. I love you, Jewel.”
The silence in the room is deafening now. He is gone … maybe for the last time.
* * * * * * * * *
I awaken to something hard pressed against my cheek. In fact, it’s several somethings— keys on my keyboard. I rise with reservation and survey the room. The blinking cursor on the screen mocks me, and reminds me that I am still on chapter eight. How can that be? I finished the book already. I’m having a launch party for it in three weeks.
I bolt toward the wall to look at the calendar and confirm the launch date I’m certain I circled days ago. But it’s not there. No circle, no notes about it. Nothing.
I walk over to the computer again and read the last line that was typed, the words Harley spoke to me before he left, “Remember the sign, sweetheart. I’ll always be with you.”
It’s crazy! I know the book is done. But the proof is right before my eyes. Had it all been a dream? And if so, what part is the dream and what is reality?
Salty streams flood my face once more and I shake my head in disbelief. There has to be an explanation. Surely someone can help me make sense of it. I call my publisher, Betty. She’s chipper as usual.
“Purple Rose Publishing, Betty speaking.”
“Thank God, Betty. It’s me, Jewel.” I’m out of breath and speak at a rapid pace.
“Oh hey, Jules! Long time, no speak, huh?”
“What the heck are you talking about? We just spoke a few days ago, remember? You told me that my novel was ready for launch.”
“Jules, hon. I’m not sure what planet you’re living on, but you and I haven’t spoken in quite some time. You kind of disappeared for a while after you got married. Speaking of, I’m so sorry for your loss. I wish I’d had the pleasure of meeting Harley. If there is anything…”
I drop the phone in utter disbelief. Harley was right. I am going crazy! I don’t know what’s real or make believe anymore. After a few moments, I hang up the phone without saying goodbye to Betty. My thoughts scatter in multiple directions as my writer brain takes over. I sit on the bed and try to explain it all to myself.
So Harley is dead. But I can see him and speak to him, and even touch him. Or can I? I’m not dead. I just spoke to a real-live person to confirm that. Or did I make that conversation up in my head too? Is my house haunted by ghosts or some enigmatic force? I wonder what gift he left for me and where I would even begin to look for it.
I take a couple of sinus pills in hopes of getting some rest. My head is pounding and I feel like I’m coming down with something. Perhaps that explains the hallucinations and strange noises I’ve been hearing. Maybe it will all make sense after a good night’s sleep, if that’s possible.
* * * * * * * * *
M y cell phone blares and Chelsea’s name comes across the screen. She says she’s in the area and invites me to lunch to celebrate the Nordstrom account she just landed.
I’m more than happy to get out of this house, into the real world where things are normal , or so I hope. I agree to meet her at the bistro at 1 p.m.
Chelsea greets me with an overwhelming hug. “Hey, girl. I have been so worried about you. How are you doing?”
I step back a bit and reply in a slow voice, “I don’t know really. I thought I was doing fine, but some strange things have been
“Wait! You said I have a destiny to fulfill. And what about the gift you left behind for me? When do I get the gift? When do I learn what my destiny is?” I am sobbing and rambling now, desperate to keep him with me.
“I’m sorry; I can’t give you the answers. You must figure it out for yourself. I have to go. I love you, Jewel.”
The silence in the room is deafening now. He is gone … maybe for the last time.
* * * * * * * * *
I awaken to something hard pressed against my cheek. In fact, it’s several somethings— keys on my keyboard. I rise with reservation and survey the room. The blinking cursor on the screen mocks me, and reminds me that I am still on chapter eight. How can that be? I finished the book already. I’m having a launch party for it in three weeks.
I bolt toward the wall to look at the calendar and confirm the launch date I’m certain I circled days ago. But it’s not there. No circle, no notes about it. Nothing.
I walk over to the computer again and read the last line that was typed, the words Harley spoke to me before he left, “Remember the sign, sweetheart. I’ll always be with you.”
It’s crazy! I know the book is done. But the proof is right before my eyes. Had it all been a dream? And if so, what part is the dream and what is reality?
Salty streams flood my face once more and I shake my head in disbelief. There has to be an explanation. Surely someone can help me make sense of it. I call my publisher, Betty. She’s chipper as usual.
“Purple Rose Publishing, Betty speaking.”
“Thank God, Betty. It’s me, Jewel.” I’m out of breath and speak at a rapid pace.
“Oh hey, Jules! Long time, no speak, huh?”
“What the heck are you talking about? We just spoke a few days ago, remember? You told me that my novel was ready for launch.”
“Jules, hon. I’m not sure what planet you’re living on, but you and I haven’t spoken in quite some time. You kind of disappeared for a while after you got married. Speaking of, I’m so sorry for your loss. I wish I’d had the pleasure of meeting Harley. If there is anything…”
I drop the phone in utter disbelief. Harley was right. I am going crazy! I don’t know what’s real or make believe anymore. After a few moments, I hang up the phone without saying goodbye to Betty. My thoughts scatter in multiple directions as my writer brain takes over. I sit on the bed and try to explain it all to myself.
So Harley is dead. But I can see him and speak to him, and even touch him. Or can I? I’m not dead. I just spoke to a real-live person to confirm that. Or did I make that conversation up in my head too? Is my house haunted by ghosts or some enigmatic force? I wonder what gift he left for me and where I would even begin to look for it.
I take a couple of sinus pills in hopes of getting some rest. My head is pounding and I feel like I’m coming down with something. Perhaps that explains the hallucinations and strange noises I’ve been hearing. Maybe it will all make sense after a good night’s sleep, if that’s possible.
* * * * * * * * *
M y cell phone blares and Chelsea’s name comes across the screen. She says she’s in the area and invites me to lunch to celebrate the Nordstrom account she just landed.
I’m more than happy to get out of this house, into the real world where things are normal , or so I hope. I agree to meet her at the bistro at 1 p.m.
Chelsea greets me with an overwhelming hug. “Hey, girl. I have been so worried about you. How are you doing?”
I step back a bit and reply in a slow voice, “I don’t know really. I thought I was doing fine, but some strange things have been
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