“But there is someone...” Starting to explain, the line dies.
I lower the receiver into place and turn away, my fingers tightening at my sides.
The phone rings again.
Pressing my fingers to my temples, I close my eyes. Then I turn back and pick it up.
“Rosewood Residence, how may I help you?”
No answer.
“Hello?”
At first, there was nothing, but in a moment slow breathing appears on the other side.
The song starts,Tears in Heaven.The same song that played the night of the accident.
Taking a step back the receiver slips from my hand, swinging on its cord as it hits the side of the table. The music keeps playing in the distance while I just stare at it.
Whoever is calling knows something. Something I can’t remember.
Eight
AURELIA
One name runs through my mind as I approach the church.
Lilibeth.
Rain pours over me, plastering my hair to my skin. Each cold drop raises fresh goosebumps along my arms, and my black shirt clings to me, soaked through and heavy. My jeans tighten with every step, dragging against my legs, and my shoes sink into the mud along the garden path leading to the church. In the dark, the thunder sounds louder, closer to the cliffs. My heart has been pounding so hard since I got here that the rhythm almost feels normal now.
I stop when I reach the brown wooden door.
The church is built from stone, and a faint light glows through the windows. I stare at it, unable to understand how any light inside has managed to last this long.
Carefully, I push the door open and step inside.
A cold chill brushes over my skin as I move further in. Only a few wooden benches sit on each side, lined with faded red velvet cushions. To the left stands an iron table with three rows of candles, but only one is still burning.
As I step toward it, the door swings shut behind me.
I spin around with a gasp, my breath catching in my throat.
Swallowing hard, I force myself closer to the candle, my gaze lifting to the carved stone above the iron table.
“Gone from our sight, held in His light,” I read out loud.
My right hand reaches for a candle while my left rests against the empty iron row beneath it.
“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain...”Revelation 21:4 is written in tiny letters across the first row.
Tears slip down my face, trailing over my cheek and down my neck, but I barely feel them. My whole body is numb with pain. I take the candle beside the one already burning, and a sob breaks out of me. I lift it to the flame and light it before setting it down.
For Mom.
I take another one and let the flame catch the wick. Warmth brushes my fingers as wax drips over my skin, and I place it beside the first.
For Dad.
