Or could she?
She lifted her head from the floor and glanced at the doorway to Dax’s world, closed solid, and she knew better than to expect Adeline to open it for her anytime soon. Besides, even if it were wide open now, Celeste didn’t think she had even enough energy to crawl through, much less walk. And what about the light?
She looked toward that middle wall and half expected the big, golden door to open and swallow her up, but amazingly, it remained closed…for now. She shut her eyes again and hoped it stayed that way, long enough for her to rest and to get back out of here, back to Dax.
How long would she have to rest this time before she could make it back through? Or would she ever be able to go back again?
Tears trickled down her cheeks, but she didn’t bother wiping them away. She was too tired for even that. She was so cold. Her body shivered, and the coolness of the floor against her tear-dampened cheek seemed to intensify as she lay there, wallowing in her misery. She’d had Dax, and she’d lost him.
“I love you, too,” she whispered, but she knew he couldn’t hear her.
Would he ever?
Celeste heard laughter, then sensed a hint of warmth in the room. She opened her eyes to see Angelle, giggling as she watched the pinprick of light on the middle wall grow.
“Look!” she exclaimed. “It’s nearly time!”
Like before, the light grew bigger and bigger, until Celeste’s cold spirit was bathed in blissful warmth. It felt so good that she couldn’t stay away, and she inched closer to it.
“I thought I’d see you at my program, but Dax said you were gone. He looked really sad,” the little girl said. “Hey, are you hurt? Do you need help going in?”
Celeste blinked. Did she need help? Yes, she did, though not the kind of help the sweet girl was offering. She wasn’t ready to go into that light, not yet, no matter how good it felt. And Angelle had seen Dax at her program. Celeste was supposed to have gone to the play with Dax, or she had planned to, but she hadn’t been able to resist the temptation of truly being with Dax in order to stay longer.
More tears fell, and she let them.
“I’ll help you.” Angelle walked toward Celeste, then moved behind her and wrapped her arms tightly around Celeste’s chest. “I’ll get you there,” the little girl said, slowly pulling Celeste backward toward the evergrowing light.
Celeste tried to drag her feet and slow Angelle’s surprising progress, but she was so weak, and the little girl was suddenly very strong. “No, Angelle,” she whispered. “Don’t-want-to go.”
Angelle loosened her hold, but they were already so near to the light that Celeste could feel the pull of its warmth, and another draw, one that was so forceful that she was having a very difficult time fighting its allure.
But she would. For Dax.
“I can’t go in yet,” she whispered, then she turned to see Angelle’s face, and gasped.
Several children’s faces had formed within the light, and they all smiled and reached for Angelle.
“You should come with me,” Angelle said. “They say it’s amazing there. We’re going to go play. Isn’t that awesome?”
“How-how do you know them?” Celeste’s voice was so weak that she could barely hear herself speak, but Angelle heard.
“From the hospital. We all knew we were coming here one day, and we promised to help each other when it was time to go. Now they’re here to take me inside. Don’t you want to come?”
Celeste shook her head. “No, sweetie. Not yet.”
Angelle eased Celeste back to the floor. “You sure you’re going to be okay here? I really do think you’re supposed to come with me, you know.”
“I’ll be okay.” Celeste assumed that was the truth. She really didn’t know whether she’d be okay or not. Would she languish here in this room forever because she was fighting that light?
“Okay.” Angelle squatted next to Celeste and hugged her. “Thank you for everything. And you know what?”
“What?”
“I’d have liked you for a teacher. You’d have been a really good one.”
Celeste’s eyes watered, and she nodded, not knowing what to say.
Angelle stood, and Celeste watched several of the children in the light reach out and touch her arms, then pull her inside. “Bye!” she yelled, then her glowing body joined the light, and all of their faces disappeared.
But the light didn’t go away, and Celeste soon saw why. Another hand reached out and moved toward her face, and she was too weak to even back away. If it pulled her in, she’d have to go. She simply had no more strength to resist.
“Not yet,” she whispered. “Please, not yet.”
The glowing hand came closer and slowly pushed her hair away from her face, then one finger tenderly brushed a tear away, then another. The palm moved to her forehead, then gently smoothed down the length of Celeste’s hair.
She knew that touch, could almost picture the man who’d always caressed her hair that way.
“Granddaddy?”
The hand moved to Celeste’s cheek, and brushed more tears away. Celeste had no doubt that her grandfather, the kindhearted man who had died when she was fourteen, was now taking care of her once more. Stroking her hair. Drying her tears.
“Not yet, Granddaddy. Please. I want to be with him. I can’t leave, not yet.”
Pausing for a moment, the hand touched Celeste’s cheek once more, then disappeared. The light disappeared with it, leaving the middle room-and Celeste-in complete darkness.
She heard the voices down the path to the right. They were screaming something, but she was too spent to determine what the words were.
Was it her name?
Maybe, maybe not. She couldn’t concentrate enough to be sure.
Was it possible to actually end it all in the middle? To stay right here, freezing cold and unable to move, unable to speak, and then simply stop existing? Because that’s what she felt like right now, like if she stopped thinking, stopped listening, that she would merely fade away. No more voices. No more light.
And no more Dax.
She couldn’t let that happen, Celeste realized as her eyes grew so heavy that she couldn’t keep them open. She fought that, too. How would she have a chance at going back down Dax’s path if she couldn’t even keep her eyes open to see the way?
The shivering intensified and reminded her of that type of uncontrollable shaking that occurred when individuals were in shock, or intense pain. She’d seen a lot of people go through that on the day of the bus wreck. Was that what was causing her to tremble from head to toe, her teeth audibly chattering and the chilling sound echoing off the walls of this room? Or was she simply cold? Or tired?
Or fading from existence?
Don’t! she mentally screamed, trying to force her eyes to remain open. But in spite of all her efforts, her spirit lost all ability to fight the inevitable, and her lids slid closed.
14
DAX WIPED his forearm across his sweaty brow and stared at the piles of brown and gold magnolia leaves lining the driveway. He could have waited until Saturday, when all of the cousins would come to the plantation for their weekly workday, to rake the mountains of leaves. No doubt the job wouldn’t have been so difficult with a few more hands, but then his muscles wouldn’t be aching, his back wouldn’t be hurting and his body wouldn’t be covered in hard-earned sweat.
Right now, he wanted to ache, hurt and sweat. He wanted his body to feel, the same type of misery that his soul was feeling.
For the past three weeks, since the day Celeste had disappeared, he’d worked sixteen-hour days six days a week, in an effort to keep himself so busy he wouldn’t remember how badly he hurt.