Reluctant Guardian



  Melissa J. Cunningham

  Clean Teen Publishing

  Copyright

  © 2013 by Melissa Cunningham

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Cover concept and design by Marya Heiman Copyright © 2013 by Clean Teen Publishing

  Editing done by Cynthia Shepp

  Typography done by Courtney Nuckels

  Cover design done by Marya Heiman

  Reluctant Guardian is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s over-active imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Clean Teen Publishing

  PO Box 561326

  The Colony, TX 75056

  www.CleanTeenPublishing.com

  Dedicated to my dear friend, Lisa.

  Where ever you are,

  may you find the peace and happiness

  that always seemed to allude you.

  For more information about our content disclosure, please utilize the QR code above with your smart phone or visit us at www.cleanteenpublishing.com.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Other CTP Books

  PROLOGUE

  ~Alisa~

  I should have realized that suicide was not my best option. But, like most teenage girls, I hadn't planned ahead. I never pictured my parents and brothers picking up the pieces of my broken life, or the empty hole I would leave in my wake.

  I honestly didn't think anyone cared that much.

  The medication I'd been taking hadn't helped matters either. My doctor prescribed it after the death of my beloved grandmother, who'd lived with us since I was a baby. Three months later, my best friend, Natasha, died from a brain tumor. Nothing could have shattered me more. Not just because Natty and I were closer than Siamese twins, but also because we shared a dark, horrifying secret.

  Something I'd never told anyone.

  Not even my parents.

  Once she was gone, I didn't know how to shoulder that weight on my own. I was drowning in sorrow. I'd fallen into a dark pit and I had every right to take that antidepressant. My parents thought it would help as well.

  I should have been more open about my feelings. I should have confided in my mom and dad and explained that the medication wasn't working. That in reality, I felt worse. But I didn't. I didn't realize the drug was affecting me adversely... until it was too late.

  The only thing I wanted that night was to not feel anymore, to not have my heart ripping in two, and to not cry so hard that my whole body ached.

  Would it be painful if I rammed my car into the tall pine at the curve of the road? Would it do the trick or just turn me into a vegetable for the rest of my life?

  I gambled.

  I took a chance and got what I wanted.

  Death.

  CHAPTER ONE

  ~Paradise Lost~

  Alisa

  The headlights of my car shine brightly into the woods, pulsing with an eerie glow with each swipe of the windshield wipers. Deep shadows stretch past the foliage, the seat-belt sensor dings in the solemn silence.

  I'm alone, staring at my motionless body as blood drains from a large gash on my forehead. The crimson rivulets drip down to my shirt, spreading like blossoming roses. For a moment, remorse tugs at my heart. I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have given up yet.

  But things will be better now. I'm sure of it. No more nightmares, no more panic attacks, no more medications. And, definitely no more curious glances from friends, neighbors, or even my own family.

  They all gossiped behind my back, and no one had truly cared. At least that I noticed. My family loved me, sure, but I'd been a drain on them, exhausting in my need for constant reassurance. The last conversation I had with my older brother had ended in a fight, and even my parents were fed up.

  Just this morning my mother had lost her temper and yelled at me, saying she was tired of my self-pity, tired of my complaining, tired of my crying, and if I didn't clean up my act, they'd resort to more serious measures. I'm not sure what those measures would be, but it didn't sound good.

  So, here I am, freeing my family of the endless annoyance of me. They'll be sad at first sure, but they'll get over it.

  People always do.

  I look around, wondering why no one is here to meet me. All my life I've heard that loved-ones will appear and take my hand to guide me through the pearly gates of heaven.

  So far, death is a disappointment.

  Maybe my atheistic theory is true—that there is no God, no heaven, no angels, no afterlife, and I am just experiencing a lack of oxygen, my brain creating fanciful scenes of a heavenly occurrence.

  When a strong tug pulls at my chest, I grow anxious. The world around me dims and I move forward, feeling drawn toward a strange pinpoint of light. It draws me as though a string is attached to my body, like a doomed fish being reeled in.

  At first I resist, afraid, but curiosity wins out, and I move with it.

  Then recognition dawns. The light. The pull. This is it! There really is a heaven and I am going there. It's all true! Relief floods through me in a wave of happiness. Deep down, I hadn't wanted to completely disappear. I'd wanted the pain to end, yeah, but I also wanted—no, needed—to know that death wasn't final, that my Gram and my best friend, Natty, live on. That their radiant lives weren't snuffed out completely.

  Any minute now, the heaviness in my heart would dissipate and I'd be free, dancing through daffodils on heaven's hillside. I'll be in the arms of my best friend and grandmother. I'll be assigned my own silver-lined cloud.

  Any minute now...

  I follow the light, but after floating for what seems like
forever, I realize that the rush of bliss—that blanket of warmth I've read about, still hasn't come, and I don't feel any different than I did before I crashed my car. I still carry my grievous burdens. I still ache over the death of my friend and the loss of my grandmother. The memories breathe inside me, alive and tormenting.

  With one last glance over my shoulder, I gaze at my surroundings. The woods and broken car are far behind me like a distant dream.

  I step forward, leaving behind the world I long to forget. Before me is a beautiful meadow of wildflowers. Many of the blossoms are varieties I've never seen before—the colors, vivid and bright, and some, blindingly white. Reveling in the glorious scent of their fragrance, I forget for a moment why I am even here.

  On the other side of the meadow lies a wide, glittering bridge embedded with diamonds, complete with silver handrails. I move through the swaying flowers, running my fingers along the tops of their velvety petals.

  Wonder fills me.

  This world is so big, so bright, and so beautiful. Hope blossoms like a helium-filled balloon, lifting my weary soul. My life will be wonderful now. I can release the heartache of my old existence. I won't have to think of the misery Natty and I endured for so many years.

  A lazy smile spreads across my face. I am free.

  Other people head in the same direction and some pass by me, their eyes glowing with happiness, their hands reaching out to the souls who wait on the other side. I don't see anyone familiar yet, but surely, they are there.

  I hurry to join the throng, but as soon as I place my foot on the bridge's glittering surface, an unseen force repels me backward and I lose my balance and land on my bottom. Sparkling dust poofs up around me.

  A few people glance my way, but no one stops. Embarrassed, and not wanting to attract attention, I try again. But like the wrong side of a magnet, my foot won't move over the edge of the bridge. In my confusion, I try again and again, barely controlling my urge to swear.

  Something here is really messed up.

  I stop to watch the others successfully cross. They make it look easy as they enter a beautiful city on the other side. A city of brilliant light, filled with golden buildings. Cathedrals and towers sparkle in the distance. I yearn to go there more than anything. I have to go there. I killed myself to go there!

  But I can't cross.

  I'm supposed to rest for eternity on pink clouds and fly on golden wings without a care. What is with the stupid barricade? Why are others crossing without a problem? Why am I blocked? It doesn't make sense.

  That's when I see her. She exits the city's gates in a flowing white dress that swishes about her bare ankles. A smile stretches across her familiar, loving face.

  “Gram!” I forget the bridge, forget my frustration, and forget my inability to cross. I barrel forward, eager to throw my arms around my grandmother, who championed me my whole life, who loved me in spite of everything.

  As soon as I step forward, I ricochet back, falling gracelessly to the ground in front of everyone.

  Again.

  Shame fills me. Something is wrong, and I am sure everyone but me knows what it is. I'm not wanted here. A tight fist closes around my heart, and the hot sting of tears burns the back of my eyes, but I pull myself up, keeping my head high, not meeting anyone's gaze.

  Not even Gram's.

  She crosses the bridge and envelopes me in her arms, kissing my head, smoothing my hair and gazing into my eyes. “My sweet Alisa,” she says, without even moving her lips.

  I stare at her closed mouth, and then raise my eyes to meet hers. Thoughts flow into my mind like a river. Gram speaks in a tone of love and acceptance, but it's all inside my head.

  I'm so happy to see you, but you shouldn't be here!”

  And then it hits me. I'm a mind reader! I have magical powers!

  This is awesome!

  I bask in the warmth of Gram's affection, feeling loved and safe for the first time since I left my body. She knows me. She understands me. She'll get me into that glimmering city, come hell or high water.

  But instead of taking my hand and leading me across the bridge, she pulls me in the other direction.

 

  CHAPTER TWO

  ~My Mansion on High~

  Alisa

  Just to be clear, the other direction isn't hell—thank heavens—not that I know where hell is, but I am relieved anyway. I certainly don't think I deserve to go there.

  With a blink of Gram's eyes, she takes me to a place she calls Idir Shaol, which she says means “between worlds” or something like that. It's a hamlet compared to the teeming city across the bridge, but at least it doesn't have leaping flames and groaning souls reaching from its wailing depths.

  “This will be your home for a while,” she says, gazing lovingly into my eyes. “Remember how much I love you. I'm rooting for you, dear. Now go and show everyone how strong you really are.” She shoves me forward.

  I turn to face her and then look over my shoulder at the quiet village behind me. “Aren't you coming?”

  She shakes her head slowly, her eyes saying goodbye.

  An awful tingle spreads through me. She won't really leave me here... in this between worlds place, trapped and alone. I don't know anyone, and I don't want to be alone.

  “Come now, Alisa. It'll only be for a while,” she says. “You'll learn things that will help you, and before you know it, we'll be together again.” She smiles as her words enter my mind.

  I argue automatically. I was a fantastic debater before I died, and I loved a good fight, perfecting the art with my parents. I have a feeling if I don't argue my case just right, Gram will really leave.

  I think carefully. “Umm, that does sound great, and I totally want to do that later, but I feel like we should stick together. At least for now. I'm here to rest and be happy. Not to... learn things.” I give her a wide grin, knowing she won't be able to resist my dimples. But watching her face and waiting for a reaction makes the light go out in mine.

  My words—and I can tell they have affected her—have not changed her mind.

  “Alisa, that's not how it works.” She shakes her head and cups my cheeks between her palms. The familiar fragrance of apple pie wafts up around me.

  I search her eyes, because I know that look—her look of... disappointment? In me?

  “Don't worry. I'll be back,” she says. “Learn as much from your time here as you can. You're in for a wonderful experience. I promise.” With a kiss, she leaves me standing inside a set of high, wooden double doors, like doors to a fort, staring at the empty space where she'd been standing.

  A man wearing a deep green robe approaches, looking right at me. I turn my back, hoping he'll pass by. I don't want to talk to anyone. Not when my heart is so heavy. He nears, and a strange power emanates from him, with a brightness I've never seen before. I look away, and it's not long before I feel him right behind me, like a sure knowledge of a monster under the bed. The warmth of his presence presses against me, and I swirl around to find myself face to face with a perfectly chiseled face.

  Long, dark hair falls around his shoulders and his smile radiates a light that takes my breath away. This guy is gorgeous. A glow pulsates around him as though a piece of sun rests beneath his skin. Even his eyes shine with emerald brilliance. His lips turn up into an amused smile and I stare, unable to form any coherent thoughts.

  He sticks his hand out. “Welcome to Idir Shoal! I'm Raphael.” He says this out loud, his deep, rumbly voice reminding me somehow of Rocky Road ice cream. Rich and chocolatey.

  I shake my head, trying to clear the fog, and take his offered hand. I gasp and pull back in surprise. “You have a body!” I peer more closely wondering why he got to keep his.

  “Good gracious! You're right!” he exclaims, patting himself down. “How did that happen?”

  I feel a moment of panic before his teasing sinks in, and I give him a wry smile, wagging my finger at him. “Good one. You
must say that to all the dearly departed.”

  “Nope.” A wide smile spreads across his tan face. “You're the first.”

  I could like this guy. Cute, funny, and nice. But way too old for me. “So are you in charge around here?” I glance about, wondering if this is a corner of hell. It's not bright like that city, but there isn't any weeping, wailing, or gnashing of teeth. Maybe hell is a quiet place that slowly drives you insane with the need for sound. Any sound. My illusions of what death is have been flushed down the toilet.

  “Come, I'll explain as we walk,” he says, draping my arm through his. I can feel the heat of his skin through my robe and the flexing of his forearm when he moves his hand to gesture. He pats my arm as though I am just as corporeal as he is.

  We move over the stone path at a slow pace, and I feel the cool, flat stones beneath my feet. I soak in the vivid colors and try to remember everything Raphael says to me, but there is too much. Too much color, too much to focus on, too much stimulation. Nothing sticks in my mind, and I'm too embarrassed to ask him to explain it all twice. His speech is water poured through a sieve.

  He continues as though he doesn't notice. “You will live in a cottage with three other souls who also took their lives. You'll attend classes to learn your new role, and then we'll take it from there. How does that sound?”

  “Wait. Classes?” I'm able to focus on that word without difficulty. “Like school?” With a sinking heart, I search his face. I'd hoped to dwell for eternity with loved ones, not strangers in this unfamiliar place. Doesn't he realize I have no loved ones in Idir Shaol? And the idea of living with other suicide victims is not what I had in mind when I ended it all. “Is there an option C?”

  His warm chuckle resonates like the soft strum of a bass guitar, and he pats my hand. “Nope. No option C. Sorry.”

  Raphael leads me to a bungalow with rounded walls, a thatched roof, wooden shutters, and a red front door. Very Hansel and Gretel. I wouldn't be at all surprised to find a witch inside, stirring a pot of poisonous stew.

  “These are your quarters.” He pushes the door open. “We try to make things as homey as your home on earth.” He hands me a box with miscellaneous items inside. “Everything you need is in here. Take time to familiarize yourself with Idir Shaol. You can explore anywhere you want. My office is located down that path. It's in a large, white, marble building in the middle of town. You can't miss it. I'd like to talk with you again as soon as you're settled.”