Our tears continued to fall in the ocean, our arms wrapped around one another.

I loved my father with all that I am. He was honorable and good. I have never stopped missing him.

Chapter 36

Chapter 36

My head was buried in a pillow and I didn’t want to move, my back aching. Where was I? Why was I rocking back and forth? Was I on a boat? I should not be on a boat....

Then I remembered. My brain cleared as if it had been covered by mist and clouds. I remembered the one-lane road, the curve, the mountain and the cliff, the orange poppies. I remembered how I turned my wheel so I would not crash into Betsy. I remembered my premonition. I was now in my premonition. I shuddered as my stomach dropped.

I must be dead. Surely I am dead. I must be on my way to heaven, although I thought that when I went to heaven that I would not physically hurt. Surely heaven takes away pain? My neck hurt, my back hurt, my body hurt.

My world tilted again, then back. Like a teeter-totter. I have never liked teeter-totters.

Ugh. I didn’t think I would feel any nausea in heaven, either. I thought heaven would be warm and light and a ton of fun. Where were the angels? Where were the golden gates? Where was the harpist?

I tilted again.

Maybe I’m not dead yet, I thought, my head still buried in a pillow. Why was my head in a pillow? I was so confused. Maybe I’m in that in-between zone. That would make sense, for me to be cursed like that. Stuck between life and death. For someone who was plagued with premonitions, who was odd and different, this made sense in an ironic, punishing sort of way.

I breathed once, then twice as I tilted back and forth again, then I heard it, someone shouting my name. But not my real name. My other name, Rose. The name no one called me.

“Rose!”

Then “Evie! Evie!”

But it was muffled. The names were blended and softened. I sunk back into my pillow because my world tilted again and I was getting dizzy. Ugh. Stop moving, world!

“Rose! Rose!”

I slowly stuck my head up, the pain buzzing around as if it were loose in my head, a small painful marble pinging here and there.

Over my pillow, which I realized was not my pillow but my airbag, I looked into trees. In fact, I was looking into the middle of a tree trunk. My truck tilted again, up and down, like a ride at a carnival, and I realized something extremely scary: I was in my truck and I was halfway over a cliff. The tree was blocking me from going all the way down.