Charlotte
The three of us walked, Ike and Axel on either side of me. We moved along a field of plush green grass that was soft beneath my bare feet. I didn’t understand why I was the only one not wearing shoes, but it hardly seemed worth asking about when there were so many other things to discuss. At my request, we walked in silence for a bit so I could gather my thoughts. I wasn’t sure where to begin. My story was complex, and there was still the question as to how I died. Why couldn’t I remember? All I really knew in that moment was that I wanted to move and see everything. After all, I was on the other side.
How many times had I imagined what it would be like here? How many souls had I pondered this with as I tried to help them move into the afterlife? Surprisingly, it reminded me of paintings I’d seen depicting the promised paradise of Heaven. There were colors everywhere—vast and lush, yet gentle as well. A glowing mix of pink, orange, and gold seemed to float in the air, enchanting everything. It was mesmerizing.
When I finally gathered myself and got my thoughts in order, I began telling Axel my story, starting with the accident that took his life and left me able to see the dead. I told Axel about my recovery after the accident, the gift I woke up with, and what happened in the years that followed. Ike helped explain how we’d met, and the dynamics involving George, neither of them seeming to notice when I began to choke up at the mention of George. I left out the part about me almost jumping off a bridge to end my life. I was ashamed of it and didn’t want Axel to know. Thankfully, Ike didn’t mention it either. I wasn’t sure how I could feel so jubilant in reuniting with these two men I loved dearly, yet feel so sorrowful realizing I’d left George, and the people I cared about, behind. My emotions were vacillating so quickly I could barely keep up with them.
“So…you’re married to his brother?” Axel asked quizzically, his mouth quirked up on one side showcasing his dimple. There was a trace of humor in his tone only I could detect. He was my brother. I knew his laugh, the way he sounded when he was being sarcastic, how he’d blink rapidly when he was angry about something. To Axel’s credit, he was handling it quite well, better than I expected given the insanity of it all.
“George,” I reminded him, my own tone warning him not to laugh at me, even if the whole falling-in-love-with-twin-brothers-one-of-which-was-dead bit did sound ridiculous. My chest tightened as I said George’s name. It felt like it had only been a few hours since the two of us were tangled up in bed together. People always say you never know when it’s going to be your last day, and it’s the truth. I would’ve never imagined when George kissed me goodbye, it would be the last time I’d see him. If a heart could actually produce a sound of grief and agony, mine would’ve been howling as I soaked in that thought. That was the last time he’d have seen me alive.
Please let him be okay.
As I silently mourned, a short zip rushed through me, making me halt. Ike and Axel stopped with me, both turning to me.
Music.
I heard music.
“Do you hear that?” I asked them. They glanced around then at each other, shaking their heads. “You don’t hear that? The music?”
“I don’t hear any music,” Ike said.
“Piano.” I blinked, a heaviness settled so deep in my heart it felt like it was pulling me to the ground and crushing me beneath it. Why did I feel so heart broken? The composition was familiar… “Beethoven,” I mumbled, then added, “You really don’t hear that?” Both of them shook their heads again.
Why was I the only one hearing it? More importantly, why did it make me feel so sad?
“You okay?” Axel asked, his forehead wrinkled with concern.
I shook my head, unable to answer. My mind had caught the scent of something, and now it had its nose to the ground, determined to find the trail. There was something important about this, but what was it?
“Charlotte?” Ike tried when I didn’t respond to Axel.
I couldn’t answer him either. A sensation whisked through me, hooking my body, clutching me, attempting to pull me backward. My limbs were heavy and my head spun with dizziness. I shuffled to catch my balance, fighting the nausea building in my belly. Ike and Axel flanked me, both holding one side of me, keeping me on my feet. “Do you guys feel that?” I darted my eyes in every direction, hoping I’d identify what was making me experience this, but all I saw was Ike, Axel, and beauty. “Something is…pulling at me.”
Ike and Axel glanced at each other before turning their perplexed stares back to me. “I don’t feel anything,” Ike answered. After a moment, the odd feelings subsided, and I blinked a few times, confused.
“It’s gone,” I said, still perplexed by what I’d just experienced. Was it my grief at the thought of George? My mind raced toward that conclusion. “I’m okay,” I assured them as I pushed away from them to get my bearings.
“You’re looking a little glum, sis. I think you might need cheering up.” There was an odd note to Axel’s voice and when I looked at him, his head was dipped slightly, his brow furrowed in concentration.
The imagery around us slowly changed, yet somehow quickly, too. Axel lifted his head and began walking forward, and without realizing it, I followed. Before I knew it, we were approaching what appeared to be a farm with layered hills and round hay bales scattered about the swells of land. It reminded me of Warm Springs a little. The view alone was so beautiful it made a strong argument for this being the heaven my mother spoke about in her Sunday School lessons.
“Where are we?” Ike asked quietly.
I couldn’t answer him; this place wasn’t familiar to me. I tore my gaze from all the splendor to ask my brother why he brought us here, but something about the expression on his face kept the words from forming. His hands were still in his pockets and he was smiling softly as he stared ahead. His features lit up, peaceful contentment radiated from him. Curious, I followed his line of sight, and when I saw what he’d been staring at, my mouth fell open.
Pain and joy rolled through me, freezing me in place. Axel wrapped an arm around my shoulders and squeezed me to his side, his voice barely audible when he spoke, “Before I died, when I questioned whether there was really more; whether there really were angels, or even a God, I ultimately believed because of her. She was the most selfless and loving person I’d ever known, and I just knew there had to be a heaven because she deserved it. Someone that good couldn’t just cease to exist.”
I nodded as I swallowed the giant lump of emotion in my throat and let out a long breath.
“She’ll be so happy to see you, Char.”
Grams.
My Grams.
She was here and I was about to see her again.
Her quaint house, the one she’d lived in with my grandfather until the day she left us, sat centered atop the beautiful landscape.
“This is where she picked to live in the afterlife?”
Axel snorted a quiet laugh. “She kept her tiny house and ancient things, but changed the view.” That sounded like Grams. She was never materialistic. You can’t take it with you, she’d always said. As I thought about seeing her again, something rushed through me, almost like an adrenaline spike but without the amped up feeling. It was as if all the worries I’d been carrying since I woke up on this side were suddenly leaving me, spiraling down my body and draining out of me. My Grams was here. I was here. I was going to get to see and hug my most favorite person ever.
“Go on, sis,” Axel urged, giving me a gentle push. “I think I smell homemade bread. She probably just pulled it out of the oven. I bet she’ll cut you a slice.” I wasn’t hungry, but the mention of Grams’s infamous bread made my mouth water. I didn’t want to eat at that moment, but I craved the familiarity, the nostalgia. Grams always had a way of making you feel loved without words. It was in the comfort of things like a warm meal, an ice-cold glass of tea, and the outdated green china she always used. These things were cherished because they were consistent, they were part of a steady stream of love I could always count on. They were home. Grams was home.
I wasn’t sure if my brother had made it happen, or if my memory created it, but I swore the aroma of fresh baked bread wafted through the air. “I smell it,” I said in wonder.
“Go, Char,” Axel coaxed. “What are you waiting for?”
I took off, moving swiftly, my feet barely touching the ground until I felt the hard, aged wood of her porch steps beneath them, exactly how I remembered them as a child, when we’d run around barefoot on summer days playing outside while Grams sipped iced tea and watched us from the porch swing.
I’d just reached the porch when her front door opened. A woman with auburn hair pinned up and lips painted red stared back at me. She wore a floral dress straight from the fifties, complete with contrasting collar and full skirt. Who in the heck was this lady?
Her mouth turned up, her eyes lit up with mirth. “Charlotte Anne?” she gasped through her grin.
I narrowed my gaze at her, scanning her face. This could not be my grandmother. But she’d called me Charlotte Anne, just like Grams did. Scanning her face, I searched for a trace of something I might recognize, but the moment I met her gaze, I knew. “It’s really you,” I breathed as I flew into her arms.
“Yes, sug. It’s me,” she whispered into my hair as she held me close. After a few moments she stepped back, her hands resting softly on my shoulders as she took in my expression. “You look fit to be tied, child,” she said in her perfect southern drawl, her mouth quirking into a smile.
“You…this,” I waved my hand at her, “isn’t what I expected is all,” I explained.
She touched primly at her hair. “You can understand why I didn’t want to spend all eternity as a wrinkled old granny now, can’t ya, sug?” she asked, her tone laced with humor.
Scanning her face again, I realized what she was saying. This was Grams as she was in her prime—the way she wanted to exist in eternity. I grinned, unable to argue the point despite her appearance being different than what I’d expected. She was a stunner, no doubt about it, even when she’d been a ‘wrinkled old granny.’ I’d thought the seasoned version of her was beautiful, and that version of her was what I had expected to see.
“Grams, you’re a fox,” I beamed.
“Charlotte Anne,” she beamed back, pulling me back into her arms for another embrace. I clung to her, letting my body relax against her. The feel of her was different, but the love and the warmth she’d always radiated was exactly the same. It was exactly what I needed.