“Your dad loved that picture,” she stated, struggling to sit up in bed so she could see better.
I pushed a button on the controller that raised the head of the bed. “He used to say the ocean was my happy place, a sort of heaven for me, and that I shined whenever we visited.”
“Do you believe in heaven, Mom?” I asked, happy to reminisce about the fond memory.
“Good question, son. Heaven does sound like an idyllic place to be but I’m not convinced to tell you the truth.” Her answer didn’t surprise me. Mom was well versed on this topic and she’d always stated that there were too many holes in the theory where a God was in charge.
“You do seem to be connected to a higher plane in that picture. I never noticed before.”
“What do you mean?” She squinted, her eyes remaining locked on the picture fifteen feet away. “Bring it closer. I want to look at it,” she said.
I brought the frame to her and placed it gently in her shaking fingers, making sure she could grip the photo with both hands.
“See that?” I asked, tracing the glowing circle around her head with my finger. “A halo, perhaps?” I asked. “What is that, Mom?”
She remained silent and continued to gaze at the image before turning toward me. “That wasn’t there before,” she stated. “I have looked at this photo every single night before going to bed since I put this photo up on the wall, especially after your father died. I swear to you that I have never seen that pattern of light before now,” she insisted.
“Are you sure?” I asked, leaning over her and looking closer. “I’ve never noticed it either. Can I see? Could it be a lens flare?” After she handed me the photo I tried to use the lamp on her nightstand to examine the unusual light but when I ran my finger across the beautiful halo it disappeared. I damn near dropped the frame in my shock.
“What?” she whispered, questioning my reaction.
“It’s gone,” I whispered, handing the picture back to her. “See?” As soon as I handed the frame to her, the circle of light returned around her head. “What the . . .?” I snatched the photo out of her hands and held it under the lamp again. “Impossible,” I muttered.
The lamp had to be creating an illusion by reflecting off the glass. What other explanation could there be? I hurried to the bathroom and turned on the overhead heat lamp, studying the framed photo beneath the brightest light in the house. The circle of light wasn’t there either.
I walked back into the bedroom, perplexed by the mysterious halo.
“Did you see it in there?” Mom asked.
I shook my head with my mouth hanging open, gobsmacked. Were we both going nuts?
“Try under that one,” she suggested, gesturing to the matching nightstand lamp on the other side of her bed.
I made my way around the bed and turned the lamp on, nervous about what I might see. Mom tried to lean closer but couldn’t move due to the pain so I lifted the lamp and brought both to her. The circle of light around her head was as plain as day.
We looked from one another and back to the picture. “Your father slept on that side,” she said, nodding to where I was kneeling.
“No fucking way,” I declared. Mom frowned at my language but I was too preoccupied to care about my outburst because I was hurrying back to the first lamp. I moved the lamp on Mom’s side of the bed over her again so we could both study the image. The light was not in the picture. “Impossible.”
“He’s here, Mikey. Dad is here for us.”
The tingling sensation of goosebumps crawled all over me after hearing Mom state Dad was there with us. Is he standing right next to me? Is that why I feel this chilling sensation spreading up my spine? Something very strange was happening and I was so freaked out I could feel the hair standing on the back of my neck. Maybe my mother wasn’t crazy.
The lamp in my hand flickered before suddenly turning off with a pop. “Dad?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Mike
Twelve Years Ago
Aweek went by before Cooper went back to his usual loving self. Of course, I’d gone out of my way to be attentive and mindful of what I said around him. The fact that he had admitted that he liked me as more than a friend had occupied my thoughts for the past several days. I wasn’t exactly sure how to respond or if it was true.
“Did you see the new senior that transferred from Boise?” he asked.
I had and wasn’t impressed. “The dude all the girls are in a flutter about?” I asked, punching one of my pillows on my bed for some reason. “Seems like a regular enough schmuck to me,” I added. I already couldn’t stand the new dude because I’d spent lunchtime listening to Jennifer and her cheerleader pack of she-wolves drooling over him.
“His name is also Mike. Mike Hastings,” Coop reported. “I’ll call him New Mikey if we become friends,” he added.
“The hell you will,” I stated. “Not while I’m in a room with ya, ya won’t.”
