Never Forget

Chapter Eight

 For the rest of the night, I locked myself in my room. I didn't eat dinner and I barely slept. A million thoughts overloaded my brain, but they came down to one thing: Abby.

     Her presence lingered. Lying in bed, I felt like she was snuggling against me. I didn't want to fall asleep or leave this bed, but at dawn I had no choice but to get up. It was time for the funeral.

     The morning went by in a haze. One second, I was dragging myself out of bed, and the next I was back in the funeral home, staring down the aisle to the casket.

     My palms started sweating as I walked down the aisle. It felt so surreal, and with all eyes turned to me, I felt as if this was my wedding day, except I wasn't waiting for the girl I loved to walk down to me. I was putting her to rest.

     The bouquet was still in her hands, but the flowers were wilting already. I looked Abby's body over, as if afraid I would forget something, even something as small as the shape of her lips. This was the last time I would see her, dead or alive.

     Closing my eyes, I tried to fight back tears, but it didn't work. I couldn't do this, not again. I turned around and took a seat, not meeting anyone's gaze. No one sat next to me, and I was thankful.

     Some of the same people from the viewing were here now but not all. Carla probably wanted to keep it family and close friends only. I watched as people came in, some going to her casket while others sat down.

     Eventually, the pastor came in and headed for the pulpit. Right behind him was a little girl who appeared no older than eight. Her red hair was pulled back, and she wore a yellow dress.

     The little girl.

     In all that went down last night, I completely forgot about her. How did she just disappear yesterday? Who was she?

     With her unnaturally graceful walk, she made her way to Abby's casket as the preacher turned to face the audience, paying no attention to the little girl behind him. In fact, as I scanned the people, they all seemed to be looking right through her. My eyes stayed focused on her as she leaned over the casket.

     She turned around, and I almost jumped out of my seat. Her gaze swept over the people as if searching for someone. Then, her eyes focused on me, and my stomach flipped. Pale skin. Red hair. Big brown eyes. Yellow dress.

     She was a mini-Abby.

     She only looked at me for a few seconds, and then she turned back to the casket.

     The service began, but I had a hard time focusing. My mind was racing. I had to figure out what was going on with this little girl.

     I tried to listen to the service. I bowed my head and closed my eyes when the preacher said a prayer. I used to go to church with Abby and her family sometimes, but I never really took to religion. Unlike Abby. She was always a good Christian girl. She loved going to church.

     Did her faith ever waver? Did she ever question God's existence? Did she ever think maybe He wasn't watching over her? Maybe she had these doubts, and maybe that was one of the reasons why she was no longer here.

     The preacher went on about things such as the afterlife, death, forgiveness, regret, repentance, and numerous other topics. It reached a point where I tuned him out altogether, and  I turned my attention back to the little girl. Still at the front of the room, she looked at me, longer this time. Although she looked innocent, she also seemed like she was wise beyond her years. I got the feeling she knew more than everyone else in the building combined.

     I wasn't sure how long we stared at each other, but it must've been more time than I realized, because the pastor's voice suddenly caught my attention. "Before we conclude this service, is there anyone here who would like to say a few words about Abigail? Or any memories you would like to share?"

     The little girl's gaze hardened, and she nodded. Against my will, I stood up and walked to the front of the room. From the pulpit, I looked at my audience, taking in each and every face, lingering on the ones I knew. Carla was sobbing, and I had a feeling her tears had just begun. John and Justin wore matching expressions of male bravado. I skipped over my parents.

     The little girl ran in front of me, but still no one seemed to notice her. She just stood there, looking at me with Abby's big, brown eyes. It was unnerving yet comforting.

     "My name is Ash. I was Abby's neighbor for almost eighteen years and her best friend for fourteen. Growing up, she was always the brave one. She would always get me to do things I would've never dared to try on my own. Even when things went bad, I always came out a better person because of her."

     I sighed. There were so many things about Abby I felt I needed to talk about, but words escaped me. I focused on the little girl who encouraged me with her eyes.

     "One thing that remained constant through the years was Abby's gentleness. Abby would never do anything to hurt anyone else, intentional or not. No matter what anyone did to her, she was never hostile and never held a grudge."

     The little girl took a few steps closer. I paused for a moment to hold back my tears.

     "I did a lot of things I'm not proud of concerning Abby, and she never deserved any of it. Still, she never had anything bad to say about me. No matter what, she never gave up on me." I took a deep breath and looked at Carla. She was dabbing her eyes with a tissue. "I'm the only one who witnessed her death. I found her body after she shot herself. Watching Abby die, it felt like someone reached inside me and ripped out half of my heart. No one deserves to be made to feel so horrible about themselves they have to kill themselves to escape, especially not Abby."

     I grabbed the stand to steady myself. Wiping my eyes, I turned to the casket and looked at Abby's body. Crossing the empty space, I placed my hand over her unmoving heart.

     I turned around and walked down the aisle, looking solely at the floor in front of me. The preacher headed for the pulpit once again as I pulled a few tissues from my front pocket and wiped my face.

     "Thank you, Ash. Is there anyone else who would like to share?"

     I glanced at Carla, thinking she might've wanted to say something, but she was sobbing into John's chest. No one else stood up. After another prayer, the preacher ushered everyone out of the building, starting with the pallbearers. But, before the casket could be closed, I stopped them.

     Out of the front pocket of my shirt, I pulled out the locket and opened it. One last time, I looked at the image and kissed it before placing it around her neck, unable to fight the memory of the first time I had done this.

     "I have something for you. Close your eyes."

     Obediently, Abby closed her eyes, excitement radiating off of her. From my pocket, I pulled out the small jewelry box and removed the heart-shaped locket. Standing behind her, I pushed her hair aside as I unclasped the locket and placed it around her neck.

     "Now, open them."

     She looked down. "Stay true to your heart," she read aloud.

     "Turn it over."

     Turning it over, she read, "No matter what happens."

     "Now, open it."

     She turned to me and opened it. Her face broke into a wide smile. "This is the second-best present I ever received in my life."

     I grinned. "What topped it? Was it the trampoline you got for your seventh birthday? I know I can never top that."

     Shaking her head, she wrapped her arms around me. "No, silly. It's you."

     I gasped, tears streaming down my face. Once I caught my breath, I kissed her cheek. "I'll always be with you."

     With a heavy heart, I watched as the others closed the casket. Justin and I took the head of the casket while our fathers carried the end.

     Once it was loaded in the back of the hearse, I stared at it, unable to believe this was it, that I would never see her again. My dad placed his hand on my back, saying it was time to go.

     I turned to him, my eyes watering despite my efforts not to cry, but I nodded and followed him to the car. For the first time since her death, I didn't feel anger. Not at myself. Not at my parents. Not at Justin. Not at Brigit. No one. I was too broken to feel anything else.

     We rode in silence, and around five minutes later we arrived at the graveyard. The four of us unloaded the casket and carried it to the grave site. There was a stand sitting under a tent we placed the casket on. I caught a glimpse of the nearest headstone and my throat tightened.

                                                                DAVID W. JENKINS

                                                                    1978-2016

     Abby was being buried beside her father.

     The preacher approached us. "Thank you. You all may sit down now."

     Justin sat in the front row, motioning for me to join him. Carla sat to my other side, John sitting beside her.

     Usually, I complained when time moved too slowly. Now, I hated it for moving too fast. I didn't listen to a word spoken at the grave side service, and all my time was spent focusing on Abby, trying to remember every detail, as if I would forget something already. In my head, I went over all of the things I wanted to tell her and couldn't.

     After a few minutes, the little girl moved toward the casket, and once again, she turned and looked at me. Her brown eyes bore into mine, and even though I felt uncomfortable, I couldn't look away, not until she broke contact several minutes later.

     As the service concluded, people started to head back to their cars while others stuck around to socialize. My dad motioned for me to head over to him, but I couldn't move. Instead, I looked in the direction of the little girl, but she wasn't there anymore.

     I scanned the people. Behind a nearby headstone stood the little girl. Confused, I headed over to her, but she ran off. I chased her until she stopped behind the angel fountain in the center of the cemetery. There, she finally sat down.

     I sat beside her, glad to finally be alone with her. A thousand questions ran through my mind, but some I wasn't sure if I wanted answered. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

     Her innocent brown eyes locked with mine. "I've always been here."

     "What are you talking about?" Another thought popped into my head, a scarier thought. "Are you Abby?"

     She shook her head, and my nerves calmed a tiny bit. "I'm not Abby. Abby is dead. I was never alive."

     Now, I was definitely confused, but she didn't give me a chance to ask another question.    "Twenty-five years ago, I started going through what we call the cleansing process, where our memories from our previous lives are wiped out once and for all." She looked down, her expression seeming far away. "I was meant to be the daughter of a young mom, and just as I was preparing for the final stages, she had an abortion. I've been stuck here ever since."

I knew before I said it that it was probably a dumb thing to ask, but I asked anyway. "So, you just hang out and watch funerals?"

     She rolled her eyes. "No. I'm here because of Abby. I followed her—and you—for years."

     Once again, she beat me to my next question. "I continued to follow the woman who was meant to be my mother, hoping she would become pregnant again and I could have another chance to be her daughter. She did get pregnant again, this time with a boy." She sighed, not looking at me. "I gave it up to a male spirit."

     "But, that doesn't explain why you're here or why you've been following us."

     She looked at me again. "I left for several years after that because I was angry, especially after my meant-to-be mom had a hysterectomy, meaning any chance for me to live was gone, and I thought someone would've come for me, so I could be placed me elsewhere, but no one ever did. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. After a few years, I stopped being angry, and I was drawn back to Kelford—what was meant to be my hometown." She kicked her legs against the fountain. "I saw Abby drawing in her backyard one day, and I was drawn to her.  Even though she didn't know I was there, I felt a bond between us." Her bottom lip trembled, and I wondered if spirits could cry. "I stayed with her, and I watched over her. I watched her fall in love with you, and I hoped you felt the same way because she deserved it. I was there when you broke her heart. I saw all of her breakdowns after that, and I wanted to do something, but if I did I would ruin everything. I'm not supposed to get involved in human affairs."

     It took me a few seconds to take it all in. "Then, what are you doing here? Why are you talking to me?"

     She turned away. "Because I gave up on trying to become someone's child."

     I thought my heart was going to pound out of my chest. The eyes. The skin. The hair. The dress preference. It all was beginning to make sense. "So, you're saying—"

     She nodded. "I would've been Abby's daughter."

     "But, how? She wasn't pregnant." At least, not that I was aware of.

     She shook her head. "No, but the process for a spirit to enter a body begins long before conception. First, we follow our mothers, form a connection and familiarize our souls with them. Then, our appearance begins to change to reflect that of our parents' genetic make-ups. Usually, this happens right before conception and continues for a couple weeks after, little changes every day for about two months."

     "But, you already look like her." Abby wasn't sexually active or romantically involved with anyone, so how could she have been close to conceiving a baby?

     "I know," she said. "I don't understand why it happened, and we're supposed to take some things from both parents. I don't understand why I only look like Abby."

     "Okay, so that explains why you're here and who you are, but why can I see you and no one else can?"

     "I can choose who sees me and who doesn't. I've had a couple decades of practice. Anything else?"

     It was now or never. "Did I really see Abby yesterday?"

     She bit her lip and nodded. "Abby is too young of a spirit. She can't control when she appears yet. That usually takes a little while. For new spirits, it usually just happens when certain emotions are heightened. That's why spirits of the dead usually leave their loved ones alone this early on, but Abby refuses to leave you. She's been with you from the second she separated from her physical body."

     My voice caught for a moment, even though I already knew this. She really was taking care of me.

     When I regained my voice, I started again, "Last question. What does you being here have to do with me?"

     "It's very simple: You and Abby are being given another chance, and I'm here to give it to you."

     My head was spinning. Second chance? Was Abby coming back?

     "Actually, make that a second, third, and fourth chance." She smiled, regaining her childlike innocence. "There's a chance you won't know what you're doing the first two times."

     "So, Abby's coming back?"

     "Technically, yes, but it won't be easy. You'll have two days in each situation. Each situation is designed by something you wish you had done differently in the past, and you'll see the impacts of each on your future. The third is set up differently from the first two. If you can keep Abby alive within those two days, you don't have to continue. You can stay in that trial."

     There had to be a catch, but I didn't even think about what it could be. I would take this for just one minute with Abby.

     "Deal."

     Her smile widened. "Make sure you're in bed by no later than midnight tonight. When you wake up tomorrow, trial one begins."

     I stood up, feeling as if I were on cloud nine. "Thank you. I promise I can keep her alive. I won't need a second or third trial."

     As I walked away, her voice stopped me once again, "Oh, and Ash, there's one thing you must know. Abby won't know what's going on. She'll have no idea she ever died, and she won't know about ever being dead. Your only rule is that you can't tell her anything about this. If she finds out, it's game over."