Chapter Nineteen
Osanne moved forward. A long corridor lay before her made of some smooth material like marble but with shifting colors—pink, purple, gold.
Colors! For the first time since her death, she could see color!
She had almost forgotten its beauty and wonder.
At the far end of the colorful corridor, two figures, a man and a woman, stood, motioning her forward.
As she reached them, their faces came into focus.
Younger than she’d ever known them, and gloriously beautiful, her parents greeted her.
“Welcome home, dear one,” Mama said.
“Mama? Papa?”
“Oh, Sweeting, we’ve been waiting for you,” Papa said.
They both enfolded her in their embrace.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Please forgive me.”
Papa said in his lovely, resonant bass voice without releasing her. “Nothing to forgive, Sweeting.”
“Nothing at all,” Mama murmured.
They held onto one another until years of darkness and loneliness and regret fell away. Light filled her and pure, unblemished joy.
Finally, Osanne stepped back. “Is this Heaven, then?”
“No, this is a waiting place,” Mama said.
She glanced around. “What are we waiting for?”
Papa answered, “You. You have a choice—one most are not given. A second chance. You may come with us to Heaven and have eternal rest and such happiness as the mortal mind cannot comprehend. You will be with us and your ancestors. No pain, nor sorrow nor illness nor disappointment. It’s like nothing you can imagine. ”
“Or,” Mama said, “You may return to mortality with all of its joys but also all of its pains and sorrows.”
No more loneliness, disappointment, trouble, regret, grief. Rest and unimagined happiness. Why would she choose mortality over that?
She had no true reason for returning. She had completed all her desires. She had even known love.
Rafe would be disappointed, but soon he would realize he was free to move on. Perhaps they weren’t meant to be together after all; merely to meet, to help each other heal, and find courage to take risks.
He had said he was a better man since having met her.
He had found true friendship and a place to call home.
Now that his inner wounds had healed, he had a whole heart with which he could love Kitty, who clearly meant more to him than he admitted.
It would be perfect really, marrying into his best friend’s family.
Or if not her, someone else. Any woman would love Rafe.
Her parents waited patiently, expectantly.
Osanne asked, “Is there music in Heaven?”
Mama smiled. “The music is like nothing you’ve ever heard.”
Papa added, “Come with us and see for yourself.”
She took their hands. Heaven at last. It had only taken a little faith and a lot of love to find it.
They passed through the waiting area toward a large wide archway.
Through it lay a garden, lush and brilliant with colors Osanne had never before seen.
Music resonated in the shimmering air. Bright birds and butterflies flitted amid blooms, foliage, and trees.
Clear, iridescent water tumbled from fountains.
People, all young and healthy and smiling, strolled together arm in arm.
All wore glimmering white robes. Paradise.
No hunger, want, need. No poor. No illness or injury. No loneliness. Memories of that part of mortality—even mortality itself—faded the way dreams disappeared upon waking.
Absolute happiness enfolded her, along with a longing to join this place.
Everyone walked in pairs. Couples. All happy. All in love. Sometimes they joined other couples in a wide circle of friendship and acceptance. Everyone had a match.
Where was her match?
Rafe’s face flashed into her memory. Memories of him rushed to her; the agony in his eyes as he let her go, sacrifices he had made for her, his healing smile, comfort and love in his arms, the sense of wholeness in his presence. Their joy. Their love. That had been its own kind of paradise.
In the archway, her parents waited. “Osanne?”
She stopped short. “I want to go back.”
“Are you sure?” Papa asked. “Many troubles await you.”
“Rafe is there. He is the love of my life. Where he is, a little piece of Heaven is there.”
Mama smiled. “You are choosing love.” She smiled at Papa. “I knew she would.”
Papa sighed. “I suspected she would when I saw how much that young man loves her.” He winked at Osanne. “He made quite an impassioned plea to me to give you another chance.”
“You?” Osanne said. “You are the Angel of Death?”
“There is no Angel of Death. Everyone who dies is greeted by someone they loved in life who escorts them to the next life. To Heaven. The person who dies only has to have the faith and courage to walk into the light to find his or her escort.”
Mama touched her hair. “Go to him, Sweeting. This will all still be here at the end of your life, and you will be together here.”
Barely able to contain her excitement, Osanne embraced her parents, bade them farewell, and turned back.
As she rushed to the end of the corridor pulsing with swirling color, an archway opened up.
It revealed a barren hilltop under the first light of sunrise.
In a circle of stones, sat Rafe and Peter.
Clutching a blanket around his shoulders, Rafe slumped over his knees. Nearby, wearing a vicar’s cassock, Peter sat next to him.
Rafe had waited for her as he always did.
Osanne stepped through the archway to earth and to life. The world exploded in color and sound and sensation.
Her dancing slippers touched the dried grass, the pressure of the earth pushing against her feet.
Her body had weight to it. Heavy, even. The fabric of her silk gown brushed her skin.
A chill wind blew through her cloak and rustled the skirts of her ballgown.
Trees in a variety of green and brown hues murmured in the breeze against an azure sky streaked with lavender, pink, apricot, gold.
Deeply, she inhaled cool damp air, filling her lungs.
The earthy smells of bark, decaying leaves, and moist plants tickled her nostrils, her tongue.
Osanne had all but forgotten the sensory details of mortal life.
Rafe sat slumped, a forlorn figure wrapped in a cloak of grief. He clutched a blanket as red as poppies, sharply contrasting with the yellowed grass. Early sunlight lit his dark hair, giving it a faintly red-brown tinge.
Softly, she called, “Rafe.” The sound of her own voice startled her.
He straightened. Stared. Blinked. Bright eyes the color of an autumn sky before sunset focused on her. A thrill of excitement danced down her backbone and quivered in her stomach.
He whispered, “Osanne.”
She smiled. “You always came back for me. It is only right that I come back for you.”
He leaped to his feet and rushed to her but skidded to a stop mere inches away. “You are here? Real?”
Smiling more broadly, she nodded. A lock of blond hair brushed against her cheek. “I am here. Real.”
He reached a trembling hand toward her. She held up her hand. Their palms touched. His warmth and the texture of his skin seeped into her flesh. His fingers folded over, intertwining with hers. Solid. Warm. Alive.
“I feel you,” she breathed.
A lump formed in her throat. Tears filled her eyes, transforming him and the world into a multi-colored swirl. Her eyesight cleared as tears cooled her cheeks.
“I feel you,” he repeated.
A half-laugh, half-sob burst out of him as he scooped her into his arms. His strong vibrant body pressed against hers and he held her close. His heart pounded against hers. Her own beat a joyous rhythm. He hugged her to him until she had to consciously remember to breathe.
He murmured into her hair, “I thought the Angel of Death had decided not to let you come back.”
She huffed a laugh. “The Angel of Death was my father, and he gave me a choice—Heaven or you. It was unspeakably beautiful there, but, of course, I came back to be with you.”
He pulled back to look at her with absolute adoration. Her skin tingled under the heat of his gaze. He ran one hand down her cheek. Thrills followed his touch.
He murmured, “So soft. So warm. Incredibly, you’re even more beautiful now.”
He lowered his head to her. She rose up on tiptoe to meet his lips with hers.
His mouth moved with hers gently at first but with growing hunger and joy.
Kissing Rafe with a mortal body was so much more glorious than kissing when she was a disembodied spirit.
In fact, there was no comparison. They held each other and immersed themselves in this moment of wonder. Happiness. Bliss.
At the rustle of footsteps on leaves, she opened her eyes. Peter was tiptoeing away.
Rafe laughed softly. “Peter, come back.”
The vicar waved a hand over his head without a backward glance. “Don’t mind me. You two clearly need a moment.”
“Please come back. We’ll have a lifetime.” Osanne stepped out of Rafe’s arms but kept hold of his hand. How long she had craved human contact. How long she had ached to really feel Rafe when they touched.
Peter returned, staring at Osanne in astonishment.
Rafe made the introductions. “Osanne, you already know my friend, the good vicar. Peter Brown, meet Miss Osanne Jewell.”
Chuckling, Peter shook his head and grinned. “It is indeed a pleasure to meet you at last, Miss Jewell.” His clothes rustled as he bowed like a gentleman greeting a lady in a public assembly.
Osanne curtsied in kind, noting the whisper of grass under her feet and of her skirts as she moved. “Mr. Brown, I owe you a great debt for your part in our journey.”
Peter smiled and waved off her gratitude. “Not at all; merely doing what any shepherd would do when a member of his flock is in need.”
“Peter is a rare kind of friend,” Rafe said. “He should have thought me barking mad with all my talk of a ghost, but he stayed by me anyway.”
Peter smiled sheepishly. “I had faith in you, my friend. And faith in true love.”
Rafe put an arm around Osanne. “You’re shivering.” He picked up the red blanket that lay in a heap on the dry grass and wrapped her in it. “Perhaps we ought to get you home.”
Osanne snuggled into the folds of the woolen blanket, clutching the rough edges. She stepped back against Rafe’s side. So strong. So warm. He obliged her by wrapping an arm around her again.
Osanne moistened her lips, reliving the beauty of Rafe’s kiss, the softness and heat of his mouth.
Grinning, Peter shook his head again. “I can hardly believe I’m saying this, but shall I call the banns or do you plan to purchase a wedding license?”
Humor laced his voice as Rafe said, “Perhaps I ought to ask the prospective bride first, if she’ll have me.”
Osanne lifted her chin. “Certainly you should. Every girl wants a proper proposal.”
Rafe dropped to one knee and gave her a dazzling smile. “Osanne Jewell, the love of my life, will you do me the very great honor of marrying me?”
Pure joy bubbled up inside and poured all over her. “Of course, I will!”
Rafe leaped to his feet, pulled her in close, and kissed the top of her head. They held each other until memories of their loneliness vanished, leaving only golden bliss.
A bird burst into song and several more joined in to create a harmonious chorus. Wind rushed through the trees under a brilliant sunrise. Rafe, Osanne, and Peter walked down the hill together toward Madding Hollow and the first All Saints’ Day Osanne had seen in a very long time.
Peter rubbed his chin. “I may have to get a bit creative with the parish register when I record your marriage.”
They laughed over the possibilities.
Still encircling her with one arm, Rafe leaned his head toward her. “Thank you for choosing me over Heaven.”
“It will only be Heaven when you are there next to me.”
Arm in arm, they walked to their future and their own earthly Heaven together.
The End