133. Just Like Heaven

I hear the sound of rocks crunching as the tires of Mom’s car roll over them. I can’t believe that I was able to find this place again, not to mention being able to make my way up the hill without sending the car over the edge. I get to the last turn in the road before it levels out and dead-ends into the place where the Crag’s Inn used to be hidden amidst the trees.

But when I turn the car and finally see it for the first time since it burned down, I have to stop since I’m out of breath with surprise.

I wonder if I took the wrong road and wound up somewhere else.

The open sky is the first thing I see. It’s like a light blue tablecloth stretched out over everything.

But that’s impossible, because there used to be trees here blocking most of the sky.

Everything else looks the same, so I know I’m at the right place. I coast the car past the point where the road ends, then I see something else strange. The ground I stop the car on is grass. Thick green grass, green like the kind the pros play golf on.

Then I see the flowers.

A thousand—no, a million flowers. Of all kinds and colors. A massive bed of flowers.

It’s like someone came in here and leveled off the top of the mountain, getting rid of the charred remains of the Crag’s Inn along with all the trees, then replaced it with flowers.

They’re all mixed together like some gigantic bouquet.

I hear birds, just like the first time I came here. There are still some trees on the edges surrounding this field of gold and pink and red and purple. But where I’m standing, right at the edge of these thick, lush flowers, the sky is immense and the sun is bright.

I stare around, seriously wondering if this is the same place Iris’s inn used to be.

Then I see it. The wooden sign with the emblem on it that I first passed. Except it looks like the emblem has been freshly cut and stained in the wood itself.

The image is of a pair of wings.

Maybe I would have noticed it the first time, but that bluebird was sitting on top of this sign. Like a watchdog. Watching me and biting at my finger.

So this is really the place.

I’m here not to get one last look at this hilltop, but to say good-bye. To leave some things behind.

I walk carefully to the middle of the field. The sweet scent is so strong my eyes start to water. There are flowers that have names I’m sure I’ve never even heard of. It’s impossible not to step on some as I walk into the center: a hundred different kinds of lilies.

I shake my head and laugh out loud because really, this is just as insane as everything else I’ve seen here. Except this is in a good and beautiful way. The lilies vary in color. Some are pink, white, yellow, bright gold. Some even have sides that are brown and purple.

The lilies seem to be staring at me, hands outstretched and waiting.

This is the perfect place.

I pull out the items I had carefully placed in my jean pocket. This time I’m grabbing them not out of desperation but out of thanks to God above. The first thing I find is the leather band that had to be cut off Kelsey’s wrist because it was tied too tight. A medic did this, and thankfully I had enough sense to ask for it back. I’m sure he thought I was crazy, but that’s fine. I am a little crazy.

I’m intending to dig a little hole and put the bracelet inside, but someone calling my name makes me stop.

I turn and see Jocelyn walking toward me.

I blink, then wipe my eyes, then look again. She’s still there, that dark hair still falling to her shoulders, those beautiful eyes still hypnotic in their glance. She smiles as she strolls over through the flowers.

She’s wearing a T-shirt and a light brown corduroy jacket with jeans. She’s not as dressed up as she used to be when I pictured her or had these kinds of visions, but she’s still older. In her twenties or thirties.

You stink when it comes to judging age, so don’t even try.

I stand there wondering if this is all some rosy-colored dream.

“No,” Jocelyn says with a smile. “I’m really here. And so are you.”

I nod as she stops just a few feet away from me.

I don’t know what to say.

“You don’t have to,” she answers again in that weird way. “You’ve said enough, Chris. You’ve done enough.”

“What are you—”

“Doing here?”

I nod.

“I came to see you one last time.”

“Why one last time?”

“Because you have a life to lead. That doesn’t mean forgetting me, but it means moving on. Like you’re doing this afternoon. Leaving Solitary. When you leave this place, you leave me, too.”

I’m not sure how to answer. There’s nothing more I want than to leave Solitary. But that doesn’t mean I want to never see her again.

“It wouldn’t be fair to you or to those around you,” Jocelyn says. “I just came here to see you.”

“To say good-bye,” I say, trying to do what she’s been doing and finishing her thought.

“No. To take that back.”

She opens up her hand, and for a second I’m not sure what she’s asking for. Then I realize it like a fool, and I give her the leather band. It still has bloodstains on it.

“I gave this to you because I knew it fit,” Jocelyn says. “Because I knew you fit me. And you did. You always will, Chris.”

“Maybe I should keep it then.”

Jocelyn shakes her head. “No. Your heart is only so big. I can no longer keep any of it.”

I want to tell her she has no choice. There’s always going to be a part of my heart that belongs to her.

“I know,” she says. “But what you don’t know is this, Chris. This world—this life is just a flicker of light. It’s just the tiny flutter of a bird’s wings. It’s so tiny compared to the vastness of … everything else.”

“That doesn’t change anything—”

“I say that because there are going to be days and nights when that same heart is troubled and burdened. When it feels broken and in need of mending. And you might long for others to help and heal. You might sometimes even long for me to come back in your dreams or memory or places like this. But no one—not me and not anybody else—will ever be able to fill that emptiness inside except God. The love you’ve felt inside that heart is but a drop in an endless ocean. The love you have is nothing compared to His love—it’s not even like one single petal in this entire field.”

I think I understand even though my heart is suddenly hurting. I want to say or do more.

“Remember the love that saved you, Chris. Keep it there as a reminder, the way you’ve kept this bracelet.”

“Okay.”

I think of all the things I want to say and thank her for, and then she says, “Give me your hand.”

I hesitate for a moment and then hold out my right hand. Jocelyn smiles as she touches my hand and then slightly bends over to kiss it.

Just as her lips touch my hand, she’s gone.

Just like that.

My hand is still held out, and I can still feel her soft touch. I can feel those lips against my skin.

Jocelyn …

I look around the field, but she’s gone.

I stare up at the clear sky.

A drop in an endless ocean.

“Thank You,” I tell God.

I think that sometimes that’s the only thing to say. Questions don’t have to be answered and wishes don’t have to be fulfilled. All you can do is thank God and move on.

I head back to my car, my head in a daze and my heart in a sling. I’m a bit breathless and probably will be until I’ve been in Illinois for a few days.

No, make that years.

I pass the sign again and then remember something else I was going to leave up here.

The necklace is still in my pocket. The one that used to belong to Aunt Alice, the one with the picture of her baby.

I look at it again and read the name out loud.

“Indigo Jadan Kinner.”

Some things in this world are too awful to even consider. Too wretched to think about.

I place the locket at the base of the sign, then glance at the wings etched into wood.

Yes, some things in this world are awful and wretched.

But some things are amazing and beautiful.

Like the stunning bluebird that flies out of nowhere and lands on the sign.

It’s the same one that I first saw here, the one that’s followed me around since. A brilliant coat of blue with a lighter shade on its belly. Black eyes and a black beak.

It moves its head like it’s wanting to say something.

If the bird starts talking, I might just pass out.

Then it moves as if it’s going to fly away.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I say.

It gets to the edge of the sign, then flutters down to the ground where I just laid the locket.

Then I see a bolt of blue streak back up, carrying the locket in its beak. I watch the bird soar up to the sky and then fly away.

I shake my head and laugh.

It’s only moments later when I start the car that something dawns on me.

Maybe it should have been obvious the first time I read that name.

Indigo Jadan Kinner.

Indigo. Jadan.

Blue. Jay.

Bluebird.

A chill washes over me, and I laugh again, shaking my head, not believing in what I think I’m believing in.

But another voice says why not?

And yeah, I have no answer to that.

It’s a nice thought, the more I think of it.

That little bird.

That little bluebird following me around.