Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

To no one’s great surprise, we walked onto the set of The Price is Right . Gram squealed with delight. The Price is Right was her crack and she’d always jokingly referred to Bob Barker as her boyfriend when she was alive. Her obsession was real. In death, the Game Show Channel was on 24/7 at my house, and she watched the reruns of the show religiously. She’d seen all the episodes so many times she could tell you the winner of the Final Showcase by who would be picked as contestants at the top of the episode. It was sweet, nutty and vintage Gram.

After she’d run around the set, touching all the props with child-like excitement, she stopped abruptly. Her chin dropped to her chest, and I thought she was going to cry.

Alana Catherine and I rushed over.

“Gram, talk to me,” I said, wrapping my arms around her. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Aww, Daisy girl,” she said, swiping at a tear rolling down her cheek. “I’m sorry. Seein’ my Nirvana in person for the first time is kinda overwhelmin’. My heart’s just breakin’ up knowin’ that my old boyfriend, Bob Barker, is probably gonna be a giant jackhole in this version.”

“It’s okay, Gram,” Alana Catherine said, joining the hug. “Whoever shows up today isn’t going to be the real Bob Barker.”

Gram rested her chin on my shoulder and sighed. “I know. And I know I’m actin’ all the fool. We got way bigger problems than the disappointment of an old lady who’s addicted to game shows.”

“You’re not a problem,” I said firmly. “Everything is relative and feelings are real. It’s fine to have them. Get them out now, so we’ll be ready.”

She kissed my cheek and nodded. “Just gimme a few minutes to get over myself,” she said with a small, embarrassed giggle. “I’ll be right and ready in a hot sec.”

I nodded to my daughter, and we both gave Gram a little space to mourn the loss of what was about to happen. Taking my child’s hand in mine, we walked away to inspect the area.

Again, we were the only live people on the soundstage. However, the bleachers were filled with cardboard cutouts of audience members.

“Umm… is this weird or am I crazy?” Alana Catherine inquired as we stared at the hundred or so women and men with crazed expressions of anticipation and fevered eagerness on their paper faces.

“We’re both crazy, but this is extremely weird,” I acknowledged.

We stood in silence for a long moment and checked out the creepy crowd.

Turning away, I shuddered. “That’s giving me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Word,” my daughter agreed.

Gram was doing jumping jacks to shake it off. The visual made me smile. When we got home—and we were going to get home—she’d be a ghost again. I realized that I hadn’t taken any time to appreciate the good amidst all the scary and bad. I was pretty sure my twenty-year-old daughter would be a baby again and I was missing out on really getting to know this version of her no matter how brief it might be. Granted, we were sort of busy trying to save lives and make sure we didn’t lose our own, but once a moment disappeared it was gone for good.

“I need to live in the now,” I said aloud.

“What?” Alana Catherine asked, confused.

Turning to face her, I cupped her face in my hands. “I want you to know this. I love you. I love you more than I thought it was possible to love anyone. You’re such a gift to me and your dad. He’s completely besotted with you.”

She squinted at me. “Are we getting ready to die or something?”

“I seriously hope not,” I told her with a chuckle. “But if we do, we’ll come back. Nothing stays dead on the Higher Power’s plane.” I paused and tried to find the right words to explain myself. “Our lives are long. Immortals live forever, but forever is too long to grasp. It’s the small exchanges and split seconds of joy that make a life—not the length of it. If we stop acknowledging those moments, then life isn’t worth living. I have no idea what’s about to go down. But my gut tells me that this is the last game. I just need you to know how much you mean to me.”

My little girl, who wasn’t so little, threw herself at me and hugged me hard. The feeling was glorious. I sniffed her head like I did earlier today when she was a baby, and she smelled just as delicious.

“You are so very special, Alana Catherine,” I whispered against her head. “So very loved.”

“So are you,” she replied. “And I love you more.”

I laughed. “Not possible.”

“Is,” she countered.

“Not,” I shot back. “I’d die for you.”

She pulled back and looked me in the eye. “And I’d die for you.”

She was serious. That didn’t sit well. The order was all wrong. “Not happening. Ever.”

She grinned and booped my nose. “That goes both ways, mom. Let’s just try and stay alive. Deal?”

My girl was something else. She was truly far more than any of us knew. “Deal.”

“Alrightyroo,” Gram said, joining us. “How about a little tutorial of the games on the show?”

“Genius,” I said. I was sure that Steve was the prize. There was no losing this round. That was unacceptable.

Gram grabbed our hands and hustled us onto the stage. “You ready?”

“Born that way,” Alana Catherine said with a lopsided grin. “Let’s get this party started.”

I was still amazed at how much my daughter knew and understood. It was like she’d been some kind of omnipresent figure in all of our lives. The feeling was unsettling and worried me, but that conversation would have to wait. Just having her with me was enough. Whoever she was meant to be would emerge eventually. Gideon and I would be by her side every step of the way.

Gram pointed to a large pegged board. It was slanted and had a bunch of pegs arranged in uneven rows. “That right there is called Plinko. You’re gonna get you some chips and drop ‘em down the board from the top. If you drop it down the middle, you’re more likely to win the big cash prizes.”

“The prizes aren’t cash,” Alana Catherine pointed out quietly.

She was right, and when I glanced down at the bottom of the board, my stomach roiled. The prize was a person. A person who was near and dear to my heart—a part of me. The man who had been my husband and who’d been murdered by Clarissa. The heinous former Angel of Mercy had done her best to make it look like an accident… a suicide. The truth had eventually come out, but it was too late for Steve.

I’d loved him, and he’d love me. I still loved him, but not like I loved Gideon. Gideon was my soulmate. The man I was going to spend eternity with. Steve had been my first love, but it wasn’t a real marriage, so to speak. While he’d loved me as a best friend, he wasn’t capable of loving me as a romantic partner. I’d spent many years wondering what was wrong with me. It had messed with my self-esteem and self-worth. But it hadn’t been me. My husband, who’d grown up in an abusively religious household, had been gay. Something he wasn’t able to admit to himself or to me in life. However, in death, he came back. I was his unfinished business, and he was devastated that he’d lied to both of us for so long. His mission before he could leave the earthly plane was to help me find the love that I deserved. The love he wasn’t able to give to me.

It had devastated and infuriated me initially. But my love for Steve transcended any long-term anger. In the end, I was as heartbroken as he was that he hadn’t been able to live his true, authentic life. His friendship and love for all those years shaped me into the woman I was today. He would hold a top place in my and Gideon’s hearts forever.

Sending my best friend back into the Light was imperative. It was where he belonged.

“I don’t like them odds,” Gram huffed, looking at the board. Steve’s name was there three times. The other three slots were empty of a name. “What happens if the chip don’t land on Steve?’

I had no answer. I didn’t want to consider it. I pointed to another game. “What’s that one?”

Gram and Alana Catherine exchanged concerned glances but didn’t say anything. We walked across the stage to the next game.

“That one is called Cliffhangers,” Gram explained. “That there little mountain climber guy is the key to winnin’ or losin’. Bob, or Fake Bob, is gonna show you an item. If you get the price right that little climber man stays where he is. If you get it wrong, he starts climbing up the mountain. If he gets to the top and falls off the cliff, you lose.”

“Seems kind of violent,” Alana Catherine commented.

I didn’t disagree. Leaning in, I took a closer look at the little mountain climber guy and gasped. He was a small replica of Steve.

“Oh my God,” I said.

“What’s wrong?” Gram asked.

I pointed at the little man. “It’s Steve. The mountain man looks like Steve.

Gram closed her eyes and pressed the bridge of her nose. “Lemme apologize up front.”

“For?” Alana Catherine asked.

“For this,” Gram replied. She stomped her feet and punched the board. “This is FUCKED,” she shouted, then took a dramatic pause. “That. That was what I was apologizin’ for.”

“No need,” I told her. It occurred to me that Steve would have laughed his head off to hear Gram cuss. He had the most wonderful sense of humor and adored Gram.

Our odds of winning Steve back were growing slimmer with each game. The Higher Power was screwing with me. What I needed to know was why. What was the benefit of sending me over the edge? It was supposed to be some kind of benevolent being. So far, It seemed like a huge gaping narcissistic asshole. I didn’t understand the game. And I still couldn’t wrap my head around why only six dead had come back from the Light. If there was a tear in the Light, there should be millions, if not trillions, roaming around.

“Why haven’t we seen the Higher Power yet?” I asked. Since I didn’t know the answer, maybe one of the others did.

“Maybe we have,” Gram said. “Kill me now if it was that horny Fake Pat Sajak.”

“Or the perpetually pissed-off Fake Alex Trebek,” Alana Catherine added with a shake of her head.

“If it was Fake Vanna White, I’m quitting. It doesn’t seem worth it if the Higher Power wears spanks and twerks,” I commented.

Gram cackled. Alana Catherine looked shocked for a beat before she threw her head back and laughed. I joined them. It was insanely inappropriate to laugh considering the circumstances, but the release was cathartic.

“Alana Catherine, are you sure the stage manager gal wasn’t the Higher Power?” I asked.

Her brow wrinkled in thought. “I was sure of it when I said it, but now… I don’t know.”

“Does it matter?” Gram asked.

It was a good question that I didn’t have an answer to. The Higher Power would reveal Itself when it wanted to be seen. It was as cryptic as the rest of the Immortals. Being older than time made many of those who lived forever lose it. Some truly lost their minds and went off the deep end like Zadkiel had. Others lost touch with reality and humanity. It was tragic and very dangerous. I didn’t know where the Higher Power sat in that spectrum, but with someone who was thought of as the supreme leader of all, it could certainly go to Its head… or worse.

“Next game, please,” I said, pushing all the dark thoughts away and putting my focus where it needed to be.

Gram obliged. She walked us over to a huge wheel. I’d seen this one when I’d watched the show with her over the years.

“This one right here is called the Big Wheel Game,” she said, pointing at it. “On the show you spin that wheel and try to get as close to one dollar as you can without goin’ over. You get two spins.”

“Problem,” Alana Catherine said, pointing at the wheel. “All of the amounts are already over a dollar.”

Gram lost it. Candy Vargo would have been left speechless by the profane tirade the old woman went on. I was left with my mouth hanging open. Alana Catherine was stunned to shocked silence. It lasted well over a minute, and I heard some combinations of words I wasn’t aware could exist together. Actually, they should never exist together, but it was quite the crude and filthy education.

When Gram was finished, she grinned like she’d won first prize. “Welp, sorry about that, but I now get why my Candy Vargo likes to express herself with poop words. Sometimes them are the only words that accurately depict real feelings. You know what I mean?”

“Umm… yes. That was very colorful, Gram,” I said.

“Sure was,” she said, blowing out a long breath. “Took a few years off my life, but since I’m already dead, I figure that don’t matter.”

“Right,” I said, letting her tirade sink in and trying not to burst into laughter.

“But,” she said, getting serious. “I think this is a setup. Ain’t no way we can win Steve back with those rigged games.”

Alana Catherine stepped into the conversation. “I think that’s part of the master plan. The Higher Power wants something else.”

“Like what?” I asked, agreeing with her and hoping against hope she knew what the gaping ass wanted.

“That’s the game,” she said with a frustrated sigh. “At least, I think it is. Maybe It wants you, Mom.”

That was an alarming thought. Was the problem that I held more than on job? I was both the Angel of Mercy and the Death Counselor. Was my power a threat? Was It that insane? Originally, I didn’t want any of the jobs that had been forced on me. Now? Now was a different story. I was honored to have both of them. If It had a problem with that, It could shove it up Its ass… if it had an ass. Cecily had seen the Higher Power as a person named Phyllis. I’d seen nothing here that even remotely resembled Phyllis. But that was expected. Everyone saw their own version of the Higher Power… except me. It might not be a person at all.

Gram paced the stage and let a few extra profanities drop here and there. When we got home, everyone was in for a foul surprise.

“All this has got me to thinkin’,” Gram said. She stopped her pacing and faced us. “I don’t think there’s no hole in the Light.”

I felt a little dizzy with relief. She’d just verbalized what had been running through my mind. “Why?” I asked. “Tell me why you think that.”

She walked over and pulled the three of us into a huddle. “Any of y’all find it weird that only six ghosts have come back if there’s a rip in the Light?”

“I did think that was odd,” Alana Catherine admitted.

“So did I,” I said. “So, if there’s no tear in the Light, that would mean the Higher Power stole innocent souls from the Light. I don’t understand the endgame.”

“Unless my guess was right,” Alana Catherine said. “Maybe getting you to come here to Its plane was the game all along.”

“Why?” I pressed. “Why would having me here be the endgame?’

No one knew the answer.

“Five minutes until the show starts,” the harried stage manager yelled, startling all three of us. “Get ready to lose, losers.”

She grinned and walked back into the wings.

“Southern ladies don’t lose,” Gram ground out. “We get even. You hear me, girls?”

“Loud and clear,” I said.

Alana Catherine took the lead. “If they cheat, we cheat. If they go low, we go lower. Goal is Steve’s soul. If we have to play dirty, we’ll play dirty. If the Higher Power wants to spar, we leave the bastard headless. We’re not messing around, and nothing dies here permanently.”

I jumped on the bandwagon. “Gram, if the going gets tuff, I want you to let loose with some of those cuss words. That was the most disgusting crap I’ve ever heard, and it would make a brilliant distraction.”

My daughter nodded. “Also, just a heads up, the skunks are getting restless. In exchange for me giving them safe harbor, they’re willing to asphyxiate the Higher Power if we need to make a quick getaway.”

I was thrown a little sideways by the violence of my daughter’s plan. It was the weirdest battle plan I’d heard to date, but to be fair, this was the weirdest situation I’d ever been in. There was a reason all three of us were here. Maybe this was it.

“We’re in this together.” I took Gram and Alana Catherine’s hands and gave them a squeeze. “You with me?

“Until the end,” my child replied.

“The bitter end,” Gram added with determination.

My lips tugged up as I bared my teeth in what felt like a feral grin. “Turn up the music and light the fireworks,” I growled. “This party is about to pop off.”

“Like the Higher Power’s head,” Alana Catherine added on a snarl.

My eyes widened. My daughter had her father’s penchant for violence and my dogged determination to do whatever it took to get the job done.

“What?” Alana Catherine shrugged and gave me a sheepish smile. “Nothing’s impossible, including decapitating the Higher Power, if you believe.”

I chuckled. “I believe,” I told her. “I believe.”

The Higher Power was the creator of all things, and I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that defeating It would be a cakewalk, but Alana Catherine’s faith in me—in us—gave me hope.

And for now, that would have to be enough.