Merry, Merry Ghost

Начало книги

Bailey Ruth, honey, always wait to be invited.”

I edged a little nearer an arch of clouds suffused with gold and rose. Once around that cumulus corner, I knew what awaited, softly rolling hills, a redbrick train station, and shining silver rails stretching to the horizon.

I wanted to break into a run, yet I couldn’t quite dismiss the memory of my mother’s caution when I was a child. Certainly, I didn’t want to impose myself upon anyone even though in Heaven I’d always found welcome everywhere.

Heaven?

Do I detect skepticism?

That’s fine. Avert your eyes from beauty. Ignore love. Yawn at the splendor of the universe. Insist that the world is nothing more than rollicking atoms. Someday you’ll see.

I always knew there was a Heaven, even before Bobby Mac and I met our demise when our cabin cruiser went down in the Gulf of Mexico as Bobby Mac pursued a tarpon on a fatefully stormy day. There’s nothing like going out with a big splash. I recalled with pleasure the Adelaide, Oklahoma, Gazette and the front-page story with a picture:

Читать дальше →