Hereafter by Terri Bruce

Author:Terri Bruce
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: contemporary fantasy, afterlife, paranormal, ghosts, women's fiction, urban fantasy
Publisher: Terri Bruce
Published: 2014-01-08T16:00:00+00:00

Four

Well, she had managed to confirm that she wasn’t the only person stuck in this limbo-like state, but she wasn’t sure where that left her.

She passed a faded young woman—surrounded by a blue glow—standing on the sidewalk, a frozen tableau of wistfulness as she gazed at an old yellow colonial. She looked like an old photograph bleached by the sun, so worn and pale she was nearly translucent. She wore a slim, empire-waisted dress and her colorless hair, cascading in unbound curls, fell to her waist. She turned her wide, faded, green eyes to Irene.

“They won’t let me in,” she said. The woman spoke with such sadness Irene felt her own heart constrict with pity. She dropped her eyes and hurried on, feeling embarrassed and ill at ease all of a sudden.

She had a sudden image of spending her days taking unseen care of her mother until Deborah also died and joined Irene in the afterlife. Irene shuddered at the thought.

If she was to believe Mrs. Boine, this was it. There was no bright light, no pearly gates, no harps and halos. Of all the possible outcomes of dying that she had been led to believe—including the belief that there was no life after death—none of them had been quite this... ordinary. Certainly, no one had ever said Irene would have to spend all of eternity with her mother for company.

She became conscious of the fact that she had stopped walking and was standing before a plain white house with forest green shutters—the kind of modest, run-of-the-mill house she had so desperately wanted as a kid. It didn’t look familiar. She studied the neat exterior, trying to figure out what had made her stop. She noticed the name on the mailbox—Johnson.

Johnson. Johnson. Why does that seem familiar?

She remembered the tall, scrawny boy from the day before. Hadn’t he said his name was Johnson and that he lived in the neighborhood? She felt a flutter of uncertainty. He’d been a weird, annoying kid, true, but on the other hand, he did seem to know what was going on. More importantly, he could see her.

She bit her lip. It was really galling to think her ability to figure out what came next rested entirely in the hands of a fourteen-year-old, but no other resources were coming to mind.

“Come on, Irene,” she told herself. “Put on your big girl pants. Other people manage to get through death on their own.”

Still, she hesitated. What could it hurt to pick the kid’s brain?

She headed up the walk to the front door. A tawny yellow cat—the color of old gold—lay stretched out, sunning itself in the front yard. As she approached, the cat opened a lazy eye and regarded her with suspicion. Never a fan of cats, she stuck out her tongue as she walked past. The cat closed its eye and went back to sleep.

Her ex-boyfriend, Geoffrey, had once told her that she had “cat eyes.” She didn’t know what he’d meant. She’d thought maybe

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