Dad, In Spirit, Chapters 24-25

Ebon Jones used to be the boring member of his family, now he's the only one who can see and hear his Dad's spirit who has returned to the house, even though his body is in a coma at the hospital. Can Ebon find a way to get his Dad's spirit and his body reunited? Listen and find out in this continuation of Dad, In Spirit by A. LaFaye NOTE: The last chapter ends with a cliffhanger. Prepare young listeners.

Transcript

Hello,

This is A.

Lefay of Sylvanosity.

Thank you for joining me for the continuing story of Eben Jones and his family in Dead in Spirit.

In this session we're going to read chapters 24 and 25.

You know,

It's kind of important to point out that in the last chapters Eben comes to his mom with an idea,

Something he thinks is important for her to listen to.

And I want to point out that it's important that everyone has someone who is willing to listen,

Someone who is willing to hear their ideas and to give them full consideration.

That is certainly something that happens often in the Jones family and one of the features of that family that I really like and admire.

Let's see what happens next.

An Into-Body Experience Chapter 24 I dreamed of Dad sitting up in bed asking for pickles dipped in ice cream,

But he didn't.

He slept without snoring,

His eyes didn't twitter a bit,

But the daytime EMT Carol Kempf said his nerves sometimes went on autopilot and did things like that.

All day I waited for Dad's spirit to show up so we could try again,

But the hours passed and nothing happened.

The monitors blipped and the IV dripped and Dad didn't move in the real world or otherwise.

I talked to him,

Mom sang,

Samuel told him stupid jokes,

Joliet walked the house searching for a sign of his spirit self.

Evening came and Mom forced me to go to the piano practice.

Truth be told I had to do something,

Anything to quiet the electrified feeling that pulsed through my body when I thought about Dad.

His body still slept on,

But where had his spirit gone?

At piano practice Mr.

Lynch went on and on about the healing power of music.

I pressed down real hard hoping a string would snap so I wouldn't have to play anymore.

Yes,

Good Mr.

Jones,

He said,

Nodding in time.

I pounded my way through Beethoven's Fröderlie.

For the fourth time I just wanted to go home and see if Dad had shown up again.

As I finished Mr.

Lynch patted my hands saying,

That should be enough for today,

I think even Beethoven could have heard you playing.

I didn't bother to say goodbye,

I just went outside to wait for Mom to pick me up.

Sitting on the steps I heard Dad's voice say,

Countertenor.

What?

I asked spinning to the side.

There he sat in his dumpy old housecoat.

I needed to hug him so bad my chest hurt.

A guy who can sing higher than a tenor is called a countertenor.

I don't know why I've been thinking about that lately.

It's like somebody dropped it in my ear when I wasn't looking.

Even if he couldn't answer as part of Dad had heard BJ and me that night.

I'm so glad to see you Dad.

Likewise.

Where did you go?

Do you remember anything?

Dad shook his head.

I'm sorry about the hospital.

It's pretty tough standing outside your own body,

Watching yourself gasp for air,

Like being trapped in an episode of that old show,

The Twilight Zone.

Well,

I've got a new plan.

Really?

I'm not sure if Dad's image faded a little or he actually shivered at the idea.

It's a good one Dad.

This time we brought your body to you.

Excuse me?

Your body's in home.

We moved it there.

You make it sound like a used car that quit running.

You just towed it on home.

Dad trailed his hand in the air to imitate a traveling tow truck.

It might work.

It could indeed,

Evan.

He patted me on the knee and I felt the tiniest bit of pressure.

Hey,

I felt that.

You did?

I've been practicing.

Dad had just raised his hand to try again when Mom rolled up in the jeep.

Hop in,

I said to Dad as I opened the door.

Hey Evan,

How was practice?

Mom asked.

Dad crawled into the back seat.

Everything is better than traveling by bus.

Is Dad with you?

Mom asked,

Turning toward Dad.

Luke?

Howdy sweet.

Dad leaned forward and tried to kiss Mom.

At the last second I put my hand on Mom's leg,

Hoping it'd help.

Oh.

Mom brushed her cheek.

What was that?

It felt like an electric shock.

Dad looked up saying,

Thank you God.

Dad,

I told Mom.

He can almost touch people now.

Twirling around,

Mom said,

Luke,

Don't mess with this.

If you keep pushing yourself,

You're liable to lose the body God gave you.

And he doesn't go around handing out seconds.

It's okay,

Wynn.

I'll be careful.

Thank you,

Mom said facing the road.

I could tell she felt like crying.

She bit her lip and blinked real hard.

We rode home in silence.

Mom and I held hands as we led the way into the house.

Joliet sat up by Dad's bed,

Basting together pieces of a quilt.

Dad stood in the doorway,

Staring as if he'd found a dead body in the room instead of a sleeping one.

It's okay,

Luke.

Mom stood next to him.

Dad?

Joliet whirled out of her chair.

Grabbing me,

She smiled.

Good to see you,

Daddy.

You too,

Jelly Bear.

He reached up to touch her,

But closed his hand as he saw Mom's eyes narrow.

I heard someone fiddling around in the kitchen.

When Samuel came running down the stairs,

I knew it had to be the EMT.

Did I hear Dad?

Samuel asked.

He walked right up to me and put his hand on my shoulder as if to plug himself in.

I'd begun to feel like a human battery.

Hi,

Dad.

Like your new digs?

Dad shrugged,

But forced a smile.

Sure thing.

Let's give it a try,

Luke,

Mom suggested.

What about Gary?

Joliet nodded toward the kitchen.

Right.

Mom put up her finger in recognition.

Gary,

She called.

Yeah?

I think we should have candles in here,

In case of a power outage.

Mom shrugged as she fumbled to think of a way to get rid of him for a while.

We all nodded to urge her to keep going.

She had a good start.

Good idea.

Gary came out of the kitchen eating a sandwich.

All my equipment runs on batteries,

But the more light we got,

The better.

Then would you mind bringing some down for me?

Mom put her arms around us kids.

I'd really like to spend some time with Luke and the kids.

Gary nodded.

Sure.

Where are they?

In the cabinets in the kitchenette,

On the fourth floor.

Alrighty.

Gary headed upstairs.

The cabinets in my room are so full of stuff you'd think a family of seven lived up there.

He'd be hunting for a good long time.

Okay.

Dad rubbed his hands together,

But it barely made a whispering sound.

Let's do this.

He stepped forward,

But Mom stopped him by saying,

Wait,

We should try together.

Mom gave me a nudge.

We'll all hold on to each other.

Scrambling around with linked hands,

Joliet,

Mom leaned over the bed to complete the circle.

As Dad watched from the doorway,

Feeling almost like we'd started our own seance so Dad could have an into-body experience,

I squeezed Dad's real hand hard.

Dad's spirit raised his hand in pain.

Sorry,

Dad.

I laughed with a thrill of excitement as Joliet said,

This might work.

Alright,

Luke,

Mom said.

It's your turn.

Dad walked forward.

Samuel's hand shook in mine.

When Dad passed through Mom,

She let out a sigh of shock,

Like she did when she stepped into cold water.

He went right into the bed,

But not into himself.

Nothing blocked his path as he came toward me.

In a rush that made me dizzy,

Samuel's hand fell out of mine.

I heard the tune to some weird Irish song,

Which made my foot tap.

I saw flashes of water,

Felt mist on my face.

Then I appeared over Mom as she weeded the garden.

I thought for a moment that I was standing on a ladder.

She looked so far away,

But no,

I saw her as Dad did.

From more than six feet up,

I looked at Mom through Dad's eyes,

Felt what he did,

Heard his memories.

Before I could wrap my mind around this whole weird event,

A wave of sadness crashed into a static of panic.

I cried out.

Then just as quick I felt tired and jittery,

Even empty.

What happened?

Mom let go of Juliet and Dad,

Then came around the bed to me.

Dad's spirit appeared on the other side.

You okay,

Eb?

I mumbled and stumbled and shook my way through a description of what had happened.

Mom nodded,

Trying to stay calm.

Dad backed up.

Dad?

I asked,

Hoping he'd tell me why he looked like I'd said I'd seen my own ghost.

You heard my thoughts,

Felt my feelings.

Turning to Mom,

He asked,

Did you win?

Mom shook her head.

No,

Just felt a twinge,

Like a sudden shiver.

Dad looked at me.

But you felt me.

Dad tapped his chest.

Inside me.

I guess so.

Dad kept backing up.

I don't like this.

God can send me to purgatory for all I care,

But you kids have to stay safe.

This is going too far.

He walked right through the couch in the grown-up lounge and disappeared.

What now?

I thought.

My solutions all seemed to push Dad further away.

But to where?

Chapter 25.

A Helping Hand.

The whole followed-up,

Back-into-body experience had everyone edgy.

Even Samuel acted like he downed a whole pot of coffee.

Twitchy,

Angry,

And impossible to please.

We all had to go to our separate parts of the house to keep from launching into stupid fights about anything but what was really upsetting us.

Dad.

The tension made me jumpy,

Like a cougar in a cage.

I kept walking back and forth in the second floor landing.

As I passed Joliet's room for the thousandth time,

I noticed she had immersed herself into an art project.

I went to see what she was up to.

She had a big,

Flat board with all sorts of curvy rivers cut into the wood.

She'd painted here and there,

In blues and greens,

Kind of mixing them together so they looked like clouds would if they stuck around during her tornado.

While I was watching,

She picked out photographs,

Then cut out images of Dad and the rest of us to piece together along the rivers.

She cut smooth,

Wavy edges so she could fit a picture of Dad at a barbecue next to a picture of Samuel me giving each other the death grip of love.

That's a happy headlock.

With each picture of Dad,

Joliet cut out pictures of the rest of us to fit around him.

Dad was with us,

All over the board.

I miss him too,

I told her.

This will be all we have when he's gone.

He's not going to die.

Joliet put her scissors down to say,

Why else would he be a ghost?

He's just being stubborn as usual,

He won't hold out forever.

Her words flipped me around inside,

Like I was on a slow-moving roller coaster that still took the wind out of me.

What if she was right?

I heard Grandma Helen say,

Knowing Luke Jones,

He'd find a way to go home,

Dead or not.

Dad was fighting against the nature of things,

As usual.

But how?

There was a logic to most things,

Electricity and the number system,

Grocery stores.

But what's the logic of ghosts?

Mom had her own logic about Dad's situation.

Joliet had hers,

I had mine.

But who was right?

Would Dad go back into his body and wake up?

Was Dad fighting to stay out of heaven?

I wanted to say something to make Joliet feel better,

But as I watched her put pieces of pictures together,

I figured she was doing well enough on her own.

I slid off the bed and went down the back stairs.

On my way down,

I heard the growl of one of Mom's sanders.

She had slipped into gargoyle spawning mode.

When I walked into her workshop,

I saw Mom's head poking out of a jungle of potted rose bushes covered with protective plastic,

Hanging over the edge of a stool like a human gargoyle.

Mom wore her welding helmet as she ground away on a gray rock the size of a gallon jug of orange juice.

The vague outlines of a human face stared out at me.

I just stood in the doorway and watched the rock dust fly.

Mom used those handheld grinders that were kind of like those ear-wringing,

Buzzy things Dennis used to grind your teeth down to put a filling in.

Those drill things made it feel like there was a mini jackhammer going at it in my mouth.

Samuel and I have always called those gadgets teeth chewers.

Mom's tools were like industrial-strength teeth chewers,

So we called them rock chewers.

To make a gargoyle,

She'd get a big chunk of rock,

Then take a hammer and a chisel and hack away until it looked like a ridgy,

Flat-sided desert mountain,

Or the big chunks of chocolate in the DQ commercials.

After that,

She'd take out the rock chewers and grind away.

They were loud enough to be heard from the shroom forest when she didn't close her studio door.

Zippo,

They turned stone to dust.

The rocks started out all jagged and rock-looking,

Then grr,

Grind,

Grizzle.

Puffs of dust clouded over the rock.

Mom stood up and backed away.

The dust cleared and zamo.

There was a smooth,

Rounded,

Living-looking thing,

Especially when she used her mini rock chewer,

Nimble the way to create the eyes.

I don't know why,

But eyes always made the gargoyles come alive.

When they looked back at you,

I knew there was life there.

Mom didn't set out to make a certain kind of monster.

She just let her creative juices charge up and lead the way through the rock.

One time,

She even made a cow-gora gargoyle.

It was so funny looking.

We put it on a shelf over the kitchen sink.

This rock revealed itself in slow motion.

Mom paused as she worked,

Waiting for something to tell her what to do.

I'd seen her work before,

But it seemed like I had to stay and watch this time.

I got another stool and kept my eyes on that rock.

Each time the dust settled,

I got a look at the beast taking shape.

Mom made a faint curve,

Then she stuck her rock chewer into the curve like she was drilling a hole in a board.

Little by little,

She made spikes.

Switching to a real tiny chewer,

She finished off the spikes until they looked like blades of grass.

From there,

She moved down to carve out a wrinkled forehead.

Skipping over the eyes,

She made ears.

They were curvy,

But human.

I saw what was coming as she shaped the chin.

Dad.

Mom was sculpting Dad out of rock.

She finished out the lips with a deep dip above them and started in on the nose.

She worked faster,

As if she were raising someone else.

I lost her in the rock dust for a while,

And I daydreamed of Dad's face,

Comparing the rock I'd seen to him.

When the dust settled,

Dad stared at us both,

His lips white in a smile,

His hair pointing to the sky,

His eyes happy to see us.

Mom's helmet was caked with rock dust.

When she flipped up the shield in her helmet,

I could see she'd been crying.

I miss him so much.

Me too.

Mom ran her fingers over the rock face.

I could see by the look in her eyes that she wished it was really Dad she was touching,

Like she did when she helped him shave on Sunday mornings before church.

He was always too slow.

He's going to wake up,

Evan.

What if it never happens?

I didn't even want to hear the thought,

But it was possible.

Dad could sleep forever.

What would I do?

B.

J.

Didn't talk for a week when her Grandpa Roger died.

I was only two when Grandpa Winslow died,

So I didn't know what I'd do.

I didn't want to know.

Mom stood up.

Let's go get some fresh air.

I followed her out onto the lawn.

It was almost dark.

Dark oils are no quick business.

The Taggarts sat at the picnic table in their backyard drinking tea.

It was just Mr.

Taggart and Rita.

B.

J.

Was probably at surroundings class with Grandma Helen.

The Taggarts laughed as Mom and I came out to take a seat at the picnic table.

Hello,

Win.

Evan.

Rita held up her glass to us.

We would just remember the time Luke made the gingerbread house.

Mr.

Taggart howled with laughter.

Mom shook her head as Rita kept right on going.

There was frosting all over the kitchen.

You had burned gingerbread everywhere.

And it just fell apart,

Mr.

Taggart added.

Dad did a lot of funny stuff,

But the collapse of the gingerbread house wasn't his fault.

Anyway,

Uncle Todd had accidentally hooked up the coffee pot right behind it,

And the heat from the coffee pot melted the frosting that held the house together.

Mom said,

I loved it when he built the igloo by the pond in the park.

Didn't Evan fall into the water that night,

Mr.

Taggart asked?

I did.

I'd lost my footing on the slick shore and I slid right in.

The pond's more of a big pit than a body of water,

So I was over my head when I went in,

Flailing away in my snow suit.

I couldn't even swim in all that fabric.

Dad came in after me.

At his height,

He could touch bottom and push me back ashore.

We spent the night shivering next to the fireplace,

Mom bringing us hot chocolate.

I could taste a hint of mint in the hot chocolate from the candy cane stick Mom always put in.

Jumping in that water would have given me a heart attack,

Mr.

Taggart shivered.

We all sat in silence for a minute.

Then Rita leaned back,

Saying,

I remember how he sang if I had a hammer for three hours straight when he fixed our roof after Albert here fell off the ladder and hurt his knee.

Mr.

Taggart rubbed his knee.

Oh,

Don't remind me.

They all laughed.

Mom launched into a story about Dad putting Mom's spitting gargoyles on the ends of the gutters on the roof,

But the stories just made me long for Dad,

So I left.

I headed for the climbing tree in the park behind her house.

A year before,

Mom had set up the camera on this big tripod she rented and we all climbed into that huge old maple tree for a family picture.

It looked great with Samuel wedged in the crook of the tree,

Joliet dangled over a branch,

And Mom pretended to feed her leaves.

Dad and I leaned against each side of the trunk,

Holding a branch of leaves between us.

I loved that picture.

When we took it,

I thought it'd be great to take a family photo there every year,

But Dad's coma changed all that.

Scaling the tree,

I plopped down on a branch.

I could see a frisbee on the ground below.

Squishing further out,

I got right above it and started to throw twirlycopter maple seeds down at it.

I ran out of ammo,

So I leaned forward to get to more,

But the nearest cluster hung just out of reach.

Stretching until I felt a little swirl in my stomach,

I teetered,

Tried to correct myself,

Then slipped right off the branch.

It was weird,

But I felt kind of weightless as I plummeted face first to the ground.

Grabbing for branches,

I clutched at twigs that snapped,

Crashed through a flimmed branch,

Then jolted to a stop.

Had I hit the ground?

I didn't feel any pain.

No.

Something had caught me around the neck.

As I got yanked onto a sturdy branch,

I saw Dad.

His legs anchored around the trunk,

His face stretched onto the strain of pulling me up by the back of my shirt.

Dad!

I screamed,

Amazed that he had really touched me.

You alright?

You touched me!

I reached out,

But my hand went right through his shoulder.

He grabbed his shoulder.

Ouch!

It hurt?

A little.

Maybe I pulled a muscle catching you.

I shook my head in amazement.

As Dad rubbed his shoulder,

I thought back to the car ride home.

What if Mom was wrong about you having only one body?

Could you really will your way into a new one?

Dad laughed.

Evan,

I know you've got a mind of your own,

But I don't think I've got that kind of brain power.

Oh.

Dad patted his chest.

My heart speeding time with a Dixie Jazz Band.

You sure you're okay?

I'm fine.

How'd you just show up like that?

He looked at me and smiled,

Saying,

I was in that weird library I told you about.

Then all of a sudden I heard you yelling and wallow.

I materialized right above you as you fell.

I just grabbed,

Praying my hand would hold.

Dad,

How come you never show up where Samuel or Joliet are?

Not even Mom.

It's like we're twins who can't be apart.

Where I go,

You go.

Dad raised his eyebrows as if to say something about us being twins.

Then he sighed,

Saying,

Poor one.

I saw her working back there.

He pointed over his shoulder.

The gargoyle?

It's like watching bees create a hive.

The distant look in Dad's eyes said he was watching Mom craft gargoyle all over again in his mind's eye.

But Dad,

Why is it always me?

No one can even see you if they're not touching me.

Dad shrugged.

Why do only some people see ghosts?

And how come there are folks who see 20-20 while some are born blind?

Dad petted his knee.

We all see a little differently.

You,

My junior ghostbuster,

Can see a little further into most things.

How come I can't see where you go?

Maybe if I did,

I could lead you back to your body.

Curious idea,

But wherever I go,

It's not a place for healthy kids.

I felt quiet for a while.

I knew what I wanted to say,

But I was afraid of saying it.

Finally I opened my mouth,

But nothing came out.

What if I died?

Dad whispered it.

Yeah.

Then I'd go off for good and wait for the rest of you to show up in your own time.

It's not funny,

Dad.

I wasn't making a joke,

Evan.

Everyone dies.

He made dying sound as normal as sneezing.

Why?

Because the earth is crowded enough without having everybody who ever lived still on it.

Although I'd like to sit down with Paul or Peter and find out what Jesus was really like as a living,

Breathing person.

Dad.

What?

I shook my head.

He was impossible sometimes.

I asked,

But why would you go into a coma and die?

If you're asking for a medical explanation,

You're asking the wrong quack.

My doctorate's in history.

If you're looking for a way of the world type explanation,

I'm really unqualified to answer.

You have a guess for everything,

Dad.

He looked down at the ground and said,

Then I guess it happened by accident.

I reached out for a hammer,

Lost my balance,

And fell off a ladder.

It was that simple,

But getting lost.

Now I just have to find my way home.

Evan!

Joliet screamed as if she were being torn in half.

Jolie!

Dad jumped from the tree,

But he never reached the ground.

He just disappeared.

Evan!

Joliet hollered again.

I scampered down the tree.

What is it?

Joliet stopped,

Then started back toward the house,

Shouting,

It's Dad!

Alarms started going off.

I know this is a dramatic and somewhat difficult ending,

Because you don't know what happens next,

But I promise I'll soon record the next chapters.

Or who knows,

They might be available out there already.

Either way,

I think it's important to talk about those difficult times in our lives when we don't have the answers,

And when things are at a point where we don't know what's going to happen next.

Different people have different approaches to this,

But one of the things you can be sure to know is that no matter what happens next,

I'm sure that you have inside yourself what you need to get through it.

And I can almost bet that there are other people surrounding you,

Family members,

Friends,

Maybe even professionals,

Like psychologists or counselors.

They are there to help you through it.

And I know that sometimes it feels like things can't get any worse,

And there's no way out of the problem you're facing.

The number one thing you do when you feel that way is breathe in,

And breathe out,

And focus on possibilities.

On the fact that you don't know what happens next,

That anything can happen,

And that no matter what it is,

You have the capability inside yourself to make it through,

And to even start over,

And do amazing things in the future.

I wonder what amazing things Eben Jones might get up to next.

This is A.

Le Fay of Silkenosity,

And I thank you for taking the time to listen in to Dad in Spirit.

And the next track will have the last three concluding chapters.

Thank you,

And goodbye.

Reviews

Magnificent as usual and especially like your intro and concluding gentle commentary

Great 💯

Fantastic! You are my favourite 😍

Loved it!!! 😍

Good Gosh Woman, I've checked Every evening for these chapters, Finally, Thank You, I love your story & beautiful messages ❤ Thank You So Much 🙋‍♀️🌎🕊