Page 317 of Devil’s Disciples

Believe me.

I’m truly sorry for whatever grief you’re feeling right now, and I wish I could comfort you. Maybe you’ll one day find comfort in the message this letter contains.

An advantage of this letter is that I get to say things without you rolling your eyes or getting mad. So, here we go.

I’m in heaven. That’s right. Heaven. I’m far from perfect, but I’ve asked for forgiveness for my sins, and I imagine God’s granted me that forgiveness.

I know you don’t believe in God, and don’t expect this letter will change much about your beliefs. But. I’m going to do my best. I have nothing to base this on but a hunch, and based on that hunch, I’ll make a deal with you.

*hand shake*

You keep on believing what you believe. I love you as I’m writing this, and I’ll love you from the heavens above. I can’t tell you to never move on with your life, but I can tell you this. Well, I guess I’m asking you.

Ask God for forgiveness. It’s simple. Just say, “God, this is Porter. Porter Reeves. Forgive me for my sins.” That’s it. That’ll get you a pass to the pearly gates (maybe they’re gold, so don’t quote me) Then, when you get to heaven, I’ll be waiting. I’ll be easy to find. I’ll be sitting right at the gate with my legs crossed, and a piece of pecan pie in my hand.

Here’s where the hunch comes into play. You and I are connected by the love that we share. Just to prove to you that there is, in fact, a heaven, I’ll predict this: one day you will experience something. You will not be able to explain it, but you will know it’s from me. I don’t know how it works, or any stuff like that, but keep your eyes open for any signs I may send you.

I don’t know what we’re able to do from up here, but I’ll do my best to prove to you that God exists, and that I’m here waiting.

Until we meet again, believe.

I love you.

Abby.

The hair on my neck stood.

I read the letter again, twice.

I stumbled into the attorney’s office with the letter clutched in my hand. “Did you read the letter?”

“I did.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said. “Do I have to?”

“You do not.”

“Is there anything else?”

“The will. I’ll need to go over that with you. She wanted you to have the home. She left some money in a trust for you as well. She left a considerable amount to charity, through various trusts. She also left specific instructions for her funeral. Her parents have a copy of them, and she’s asked that you review them as well.”

“What are they?”

“They’re lengthy,” he said. “I’ll let you read them.”

After reading her requests for the funeral, I laughed. For the first time since the night before she died, I actually laughed.

Out loud.

“Is this everything?” I asked.

He stood. “Yes, Sir.”

Instructions in hand, I turned toward the door with a grin on my face.

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Ghost