A Promise Of Ashes by Sherilee Gray

Author:Sherilee Gray [Gray, Sherilee]
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter 17

Jasmine

* * *

Mr. Jenkins held my hand tighter than I thought possible, seeing as how frail he was. A tear slid down his weathered cheek, and he shook his head. “My granddaughter told me to make this appointment months ago, but I was a skeptic and an old fool.” He smiled and another tear streaked down his face. “That was my Nelly, no if, ands, or buts about it. No one knows what you just told me, only her and I.”

I squeezed his hand in return. I worked with a lot of humans, they made up eighty percent of my business, and I loved that I could give them this peace of mind. A message from a loved one to ease their fears and their hearts. “I’m so glad I could help you today,” I said softly. “Nelly loves you so much, I can see it radiating from her.” She’d crossed over two years ago, ascending straight to Heaven. I’d tapped into her energy as soon as Mr. Jenkins walked in.

Tell him he has to stop sitting in that living room and get out of the house and enjoy himself. Tell him to use the money in our holiday account and go on the cruise we always planned.

Her voice echoed through my mind, her features soft, but her tone no-nonsense. I chuckled. “She wants you to get out of the house and enjoy yourself. She said you’re to use the money in your holiday savings account and go on that cruise the two of you planned to go on.”

His lips quivered and more tears fell. Often in situations like this, the tears weren’t sad ones, but came from relief, from the confirmation that their loved ones were okay. Add to that the intense emotions that came from truly knowing there was something more after death, that death wasn’t an end, that it was just moving to the next part of your journey…it was a lot to take in. Mr. Jenkins was feeling all of that now. He also missed his wife terribly.

To have that kind of love—

Tender new shoots of hope grew, unfurling inside me. Ren felt something for me, he did. This time, it felt different. He’d had more control. He’d kissed me because he wanted to last night, not because of my power, I was sure of it.

If his mother hadn’t arrived when she did, I didn’t think we would have stopped at kissing. I’d tried to convince myself the way he looked at me all the time was nothing. I told myself it was something else, because how could it actually be what I desperately wanted it to be? He’d never made a move.

For so long, he’d coped with what happened to him through alcohol, by giving himself to any female who wanted him. By not caring about himself.

But he’d changed. The fake smiles were coming less often. He’d actually laughed, and yes, he was also moodier, more aggressive—jealous—and no, they weren’t great emotions, but they were something other than indifference, and that had to be a good thing.

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