Page 8 of Where Are You Now
“I have friends,” she said defiantly. “My friend Allison would’ve helped, but she’s on vacation.” She didn’t dare consider that Allison was the only person she knew well enough to ask such a favor, and if her friend ever moved away or wasn’t around—like now—she’d be in real trouble. She’d spent so much of her life working that she didn’t have time to build relationships.
“I could get myself home,” Ava said anyway. She set her water on the marble coaster she’d gotten because it matched the legs of her glass-topped coffee table.
“Could you?” her mother challenged.
“Yes. It would take me a while, but I could do it.”
“Thistime.”
She hated to admit it, but her mom was right. Even if Allison could help, what would happen if Ava weren’t capableof walking into her own apartment? Her mother had said “this time” as if it was an inevitability. Was it? In the back of Ava’s mind was the fact that she’d agreed to this miraculous recovery on the grounds she find Lucas. While the nothingness and the voice could’ve been a dream or a hallucination, the experience in the void had been so clear and real—instead of the other way around. If she didn’t find Lucas and hold up her end of the celestial deal, she kept asking herself, would her life end? And if so, when? Maybe she didn’t have internal bleeding. So was she going to fall off a bridge on the way to work one day?
Every step she’d taken on the journey home—the car ride, getting across the street, boarding the elevator—she’d worried about her fate.
“Mom, can I ask you something? What do you think happens to us when we die?”
Martha straightened up. “You don’t remember anything from all those years in Sunday school? I believe we go to heaven.”
Ava deliberated over saying anything about her experience for fear her mother would tell her it wasn’t heaven—especially since her father hadn’t been there. He was the most God-fearing man she knew. He’d ended every night at the kitchen table, under lamplight, reading his Bible. If where she’d been wasn’t heaven, she considered again that there was only one other place she was taught it could be. But she’d felt so loved and comforted…
“What’s bugging you?” her mom asked.
“Something happened after the crash.” Unable to hold it in any longer, she told her mom about the emptiness and the voice. Then she divulged what she’d experienced, having a doctor with the same name as Lucas.
“Lucas from high school?”
“Did you happen to see him?” Ava asked.
Her mom shook her head. “I wasn’t there the whole daywhile you were unconscious. I hung out in the café and got myself some coffee to settle my nerves. They had my number, so I sat at a table and read a book or quilted, trying to stay calm.”
“I wonder if it was the same Lucas?”
“What would be the odds?” her mom asked.
“Maybe none of it really happened. After all, I didn’t see Dad…” Her voice broke on the words and a lump formed in her throat, tears welling in her eyes.
She’d always been tough when dealing with his death. She’d never allowed herself to cry.
I must really be fragile at the moment.
A lone tear slipped down her slightly swollen cheek. She wiped it away, her shoulder hurting with the effort.
Her mother got up, went into the kitchen, and poured herself a glass of water. Her mom had never been great at talking about her dad’s death. She’d told Ava once that the pain was too intense, and talking about him would crush her if she let it.
Ava had always wondered what it was like to love a significant other that intently. She couldn’t imagine ever loving another man as much as she loved her dad. She’d hoped her marriage would’ve grown into an all-consuming love like her parents’, but it never had.
“Think I’m going nuts?” Ava called over the counter.
Her mom came back into the room and picked up Ava’s glass, holding it out to her. Then she sat back down and took a long drink from her own.
“You’ve had a lot going on—all the things you were doing with your job; you filled your days so full and never took a rest; and then you had the accident. It’s no wonder your mind’s playing tricks on you.”
Ava sipped her water, feeling no clearer after telling her mother what she’d experienced.
“Maybe,” Martha suggested, “while you were unconscious, you heard someone speak to Dr. Phillips, and your mind brought up memories of your old friend Lucas.”
Ava set down her water and rubbed her sore face. “I should be the first to agree, but I was there. I don’t think that’s what happened. In a very strange way, the empty place where I heard the voice was more tangible than the sofa I’m sitting on. It was almost as if I felt someone there with me, watching. And the voice was as clear as a bell. Not to mention the doctor’s name actually wasLucasPhillips—Dr. Watkins confirmed it.”
Martha stroked her chin, seemingly trying to find a reason for this episode. “Give yourself some time. You need to process what you’ve been through.” She scooted to the edge of the chair and leaned toward Ava. “Your colleagues at McGregor have things under control. They said they won’t even allow calls through to you because you need to heal. And you don’t have a computer anyway. Why don’t you come home to the lake with me?”
