The Other Side of Heaven (4 page)

Travis McGuire served coffee from
a tin percolator, it reminded me of my grandmother, only he didn’t strike me
quite as old as my grandmother was. We had received thousands of letters and
emails in just a few days, and we knew it would be impossible to visit them
all. We had the ‘stick out’ pile, ones that pulled at us, we separated them by
areas, and pulled a lottery draw out of each pile. Travis won the lottery and
we visited him. It was our own elimination process, fair or not.

Travis’ story at first wasn’t
compelling. In fact, when I pulled his email as a refresher, I didn’t see why
we even put him in a ‘gut pulling’ pile. How did it even get in there? He was
brief in the email, left out details. I only assumed that maybe Artie or one of
the other church ladies knew him personally. I couldn’t recall his story.

What was it about him?

We sat at the dining room table
in the modest home. It was warm and welcoming, a plain décor with older
curtains that flapped with the breeze. The long buffet table held multitudes of
family photographs, they spanned from black and white to modern.

Everything seemed preserved in
the house, as if time stopped and he never changed anything. Even the table
cloth, plastic and flowered.

“Thanks for meeting me,” said
Travis, as he sat down. “I didn’t expect the call. Reaching out, was difficult,
and I didn’t say much.” He sipped his coffee and looked at Brad. “This your
son?”

“No,” I replied. “My searching
companion.”

“Making sure she stays on track,”
Brad added.

“Well lucky her.”

“Tell me. Who is it that you
would want a chance to spend one more day with?” I asked.

He extended a reach to the table
of photos and lifted a frame, setting it on the table. It was an older
photograph of a beautiful blonde haired woman.

“My wife,” he said. “Thirty-six
years ago, she was pregnant with our fifth child.”

As he gave that introduction, I
somehow expected him to say she died during childbirth.

He continued, “I was in a very
selfish phase. All I saw was the work hours I put in. I was at the factory
working doubles to support all the kids. When we met I was a baseball player, I
worked on cars and played guitar. Little by little everything I did went by the
wayside with each birth. The fifth kid, I figured was the last straw. I was a
done man. Not happy. I couldn’t find happiness and was convinced I wasn’t a
family man. We fought, day and night. I can still see the kids in the living
room covering their ears while we screamed at each other. She kept saying I was
wrong, that my happiness was with the family. That God had his plan for me. I
didn’t believe it. I even suggested that maybe she shouldn’t have the baby.
Nothing she did was right. I was bad. It was me and this ain’t post death
talking.”

I watched as he stared at the
picture, sipped his coffee and then replaced it.

“One evening, I came home and
Janice and the kids were gone. Split. She took only a few items, forty from the
bank and the good car. Gone. Instead of me feeling outrage or broken, I was
elated. I read the note, she said for me to find my happiness and when I
realized it was with her and the kids, she’d be waiting and to find them, she
was at her mother’s. I … didn’t bother. I didn’t call her mother, I didn’t
reach out. I went to the bar, I had fun and never looked for my family. Until
…just about two weeks pass and suddenly, I got this sick feeling in the pit in
my stomach. Loneliness. I came home, I sat in the kids’ room, and I thought,
maybe she had something. Yeah .. She had something. I cried. I needed them. She
knew. It was that second when I decided to pick up the phone to call and beg
her to come home, that the phone rang. Janice was on her way back home and was
in an accident. A bad one.”

Hearing this caused me to gasp.
It wasn’t what I expected.

“Her mother lived three hundred
miles away, yet, the accident happened eighteen miles up the road. The station
wagon was hit by a tractor trailer. Janice was killed and all four of my kids
were in the hospital. And as a miracle, the baby survived. They delivered him.
Early, but he lived. I spent the last thirty years being the best I could be,
the father and grandfather I needed to be. I never remarried, to me, I was
still married to her.”

“If you’d go, what resolution do
you hope to find?” Brad asked.

“Resolution? I don’t know if
there can be one. I’d like to know if she watches. If not, I want to tell her
about the family, how big it is. How she is a part of our lives every single
day, no matter how long she’s been gone. I need to tell her she was right. That
this is my life, that this is where my happiness is. But most of all, I need to
know if she knew,” Travis said. “Knew I loved her more than life itself and
regret every single second of my life for letting her walk out that door.”

Call me cautious, although there
are some who would say I was cowardly. Sending Natalie out to do my work, when
I actually knew who I wanted to be picked. Although I gave her free will to
choose, and would abide and accept those she did select, I used influence to
guide her in the right direction.

Perhaps that wasn’t fair.

Travis needed heard. If I relied
solely on his email to Natalie, she never would have listened to Travis and in
turn, wouldn’t have placed him on the top of her list.

The general public has a two week
attention span when it comes to newsworthy stories. Once it hits the circuit,
in two weeks people have forgotten and moved on. In order for Natalie to be
taken seriously, we had to operate and move fast in that two weeks. After that,
people would forget and lose interest.

It was a lot to accomplish in two
weeks and for that, Natalie needed help. Brad was a great asset, and Artie’s
intervention was, excuse the pun, a Godsend. But she needed more. Someone with
the ground work already in place.

Aside from guiding her to the
‘source’, I had to face the fact that I had questions to answer. Again, maybe
the source would answer those questions. In any event, I would be there.

It had been days since we spoke,
surprisingly, Natalie hadn’t presented me with the list of questions that Brad
had drawn up. I was waiting and ready, but glad I didn’t have to face it. She
wasn’t handling her quest very well. She was doing a great job, but emotionally
it was taking its toll. Another reason, she had to get it done fast.

Before long, hearing everyone’s
heartache and need for resolution would drain her and cause an inability to
finish the question. Of that I was one hundred percent certain. Time to step in
…. Again.

When traveling in a twenty-two
foot RV, things weren’t as easy as pulling into the first parking spot and
going about my business. When Bill informed me we were taking a detour, I was
concerned. Especially since we were headed back to Oklahoma. A little town, Texhoma,
population roughly a thousand was our destination. Even though the night before
Brad and I stayed at the home of a pastor, we were weary of sleeping in the RV
and a quaint little place called Home Town Inn was located in the town. The
prices were so affordable, I got us one of the two, top of the line suites
located at the end of the single story ‘L’ shaped place.

 Bill said to get the room
for a couple nights and I did. I actually took that as welcoming news. We were
staying put and could rest. He told me we were in town because there was
someone I needed to find. Find and recruit. I hadn’t a clue what that meant,
but we had to head out as soon as we checked in. Because of where we were going
to find this individual, Brad had to stay behind.

Both Brad and I believed it was
some sort of spiritual thing or reasoning, perhaps things would be said that
Brad couldn’t hear, then I realized why Brad had to hang back.

He wasn’t of legal drinking age.

I stood outside the bar and grill
that looked like something out of horror movie. A few cars were parked out
front, but there were more motorcycles than automobiles.

“A bar?” I asked Bill. “I’m
pulling my RV into a bar parking lot.”

“He’s in here.”

“Are you sure?”

“He’s always here. Yes, I’m
sure.”

“What am I going to say? Do? Just
walk up to him?”

“I’ll tell you. Just go inside.”

Admittedly, I was irritated. I
didn’t like blindly following instructions and the whole entire mission was
done blindly.

I half expected to walk into the
bar and have all noise stop, but it didn’t. It was clean with red and blue
spotlights added to give atmosphere. There were maybe ten patrons inside. Some
played pool, some darts. A lone guitar player was off in the corner, doing his
thing with a tiny PA system.

The actual bar potion took up a
good length of the left side of the establishment.

“There, at the far end,” Bill
said. “That’s him. Go sit next to him.”

Every seat around the man was
empty, and somehow I knew I’d get a look because I took the one next to him
instead of the many empty. He was a good looking man, actually very good
looking. Sandy blonde hair, kept short with a hint of a wave. His face had a
little growth. He wore a black tee shirt, jeans and an open short sleeve blue
checkered shirt. Probably forty, maybe older, it was hard to tell.

The second I slid onto the stool
next to him, he looked at me.

There it was. That look. He
wanted to question my choice in seating, I knew it.,

The barmaid wasn’t any better, in
fact, she looked fearful for me.

“Hon, you sure you won’t be more
comfortable at the other end?” She asked. “You get a good view of Sam our
singer.”

“No I’m good here.”

“Okay then, what can I get you.”

“Bourbon and soda,” I said.

Bill whispered in my ear. “Once
she gives you the drink, strike up a conversation. Tell him you are here
because of him.”

The barmaid set down my drink,
told me the cost and I pushed the money forward and told her to keep the
change. She stayed close by, I suppose to see what I was up to.

“So.” I said.

Checkered shirt man looked at me.

“This is gonna sound really odd,”
I said, taking a big old gulp of my drink for courage. “But I came to find
you.”

“Really.” He spoke in a smoky
voice. “You aren’t from around here.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Prostitution is illegal.”

“Oh my God, I’m not a hooker.”

“Well, if you’re here to try to
pick me up. Don’t bother.” He lifted his drink and downed it, then signaled to
the bartender for another. “I’m taken.”

“In a sense, he is,” Bill said.
“He’s a priest. Father Craig Thomas.”

I wanted to blurt out, ‘he’s a
priest?’, I just didn’t see it, he wasn’t dressed like one, nor was he behaving
like I’d expect a priest to behave.

Bill continued, I guess he sensed
my disbelief. “He’s on a church ordered sabbatical.”

Craig slammed down his glass. “I
want to know how your friend knows this.”

Hearing that, I nearly fell from
my stool. “You .. you see him.”

“I see him.”

“See who?” asked the bartender.

Craig quickly looked at me.

“Hey …” the bartender nearly sang
her words. “I know you.” She said. ‘You’re that woman who died for eighteen
hours. Yeah, that’s you.”

Suddenly and manically Craig
laughed, finished off his drink and stood. “Oh, I get it now. Meg, I’ll be
back.” He walked by me abruptly.

“Wait!” I called to him and
hurriedly followed. “Wait.”

Outside he kept walking.

“Wait.” I called out again.

He stopped. “What do you want
from me.”

“How did you see him? No one
does.” I said.

He smiled and shook his head. “I
knew this was coming. Bill, right? He likes that name Bill for some reason.” He
looked beyond me and to Bill. “So you’re taking the form of aging rock stars
these days. Quite a switch from political figures.”

“It depends on the person,” Bill
said.

“Wait. Wait.” I held up my hand.
“What is going on?”

“You died.” Craig said. “Bill is
with you. He wants you to find people to give a wonderful gift to. They can
meet someone on the other side they lost. Right? He sent you to me for help.”

“Yeah, but …”

“That bourbon and soda you
ordered?” Craig asked. “It’ll turn to straight bourbon. It won’t be enough. It
will never be enough. I am so sorry for you. I am.”

“I am so lost,” I said. “How can
you say this? How can you see Bill.”

“I was there. I guess you can say
…” Bill said. “I am you. Only I was you, ten years ago.”

I stood for a moment, under a
clear sky staring up to this priest. I was shocked at first then all I could
say was, “Then if that’s the case, all the more reason not to walk away.”

<><><><> 

I had him convinced to come with
me. It did, however take me telling him I had bourbon in my RV. A bribe. I
brought him to the RV. I thought about just bringing him back to the suite but
that was just plain weird.

“Where are you staying?” I asked
him.

“At the Chevy,” Craig replied.

“Where’s that at?”

“Parked in this lot. I was
staying at a bed and breakfast but I was thinking it was time to move on, so I
checked out this morning.” He glanced at Bill.

I turned to Bill. “Did you know
he was moving on?”

“Of course he did,” Craig
answered.

“Do I get to talk?” Bill asked.

“No you’ve said enough.”

“Okay,” I blurted out, trying to break
the tension. I stood. “Let’s take the RV back to the hotel. You are more than
welcome to sleep in the suite or here.”

“This is cozy, and I think I’ll
take you up on that. Where’s that bottle?”

Before taking the driver’s seat,
I retrieved him a bottle and a glass, then proceeded to drive the RV the short
distance back to the motel.

I parked, made him a sandwich,
and we weren’t settled only a few minutes when Brad showed up.

Before Craig could ask, I said,
“This is Brad. In case you’re wondering he’s not my son. He’s ..”

“Your help. Not your kid. The
chosen don’t have a family,” Craig finished my sentence. “He’ll travel with you
until it gets too much too fast. He’ll never be the same. There’s another
person, too, more than likely a woman. An organizer. It’s the way it works.”

Brad slipped into the table with
him. “How do you know this?”

“Like I told her …” Craig downed
his drink. “What is your name anyway?”

“Natalie.”

“Like I told Natalie. Ten years
ago, I was her. Only Bill didn’t look like Bon Jovi, he looked like a young
Ronald Reagan.”

“Wait. Wait.” Brad held up his
hand. “You see Bill?”

“I know Bill. He was Ronald
Reagan for me, Was Churchill for the poor sucker before me, who was it before
that …”

“Enough.” Bill stood.

“Yeah,” Craig snapped. “It is enough.
Enough of this. But for you it won’t be, it’ll never be enough.” He faced me.
“This isn’t a once and a lifetime chance. A brand new thing. Every time the
world lacks faith, this happens. It’s been attempted before.”

“Attempted?” Bill asked with a sarcastic
laugh. “No, it’s been done. With success.”

“Stop.” I spoke firm. “I am so
confused. I never heard of this before. I don’t remember hearing about anyone
dying and given this quest.”

“And you never will,” Craig said.
“Just like people won’t remember you a year from now. Maybe some will, they’ll
know you as a whacko.”

Then Brad said, “I’m even more
confused why Natalie had to find this guy. He’s angry, bitter and apparently…”
he lifted the bottle. “A drunk.”

“He’s a priest,” I said.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Brad. “Why
did Bill pick him.”

Bill answered and I conveyed the
answer to Brad who couldn’t see or hear him, “He said so Fr. Craig can finish.
Find his own resolution in finishing what he started.”

Craig twitched his jaw. “Did he
tell you why I didn’t finish? Did he tell you why I let people down who had
their hopes up? Did he tell you the catch? The catch to it all is why I
stopped.”

Brad shifted his eyes from me to
Craig. “What’s the catch.”

“In order for them to meet their
loved ones, to get to the other side of heaven,” Craig replied. “They all have
to die.”