Free Every Touch by Nerika Parke Page B

only explanation for Mr Duncan’s sudden ability to see beyond the physical world.
       Mr Duncan stared at him for a few seconds as he processed the situation, then he nodded.  “I knew it was coming.” 
       He didn’t seem fazed by the idea.  Maybe, Denny thought, he had reached the point where dying seemed like a better option than living. 
       Mr Duncan’s face shifted into a smile.  He reached out a wizened hand and touched Denny’s cheek.  “It’s so good to see you, boy.  I’ve missed you.  It hasn’t been the same without you here.”
       Denny smiled.  “I’ve missed being able to talk to you too.”
       Mr Duncan dropped his hand back onto the arm of the chair, as if even that movement had been exhausting.  He looked around the room. 
       “Is Jeanie here?”
       “No, Mr D, she’s not here.”
       He sighed and nodded.  “What’s it like, death?”
       Denny paused briefly before answering.  “It’s wonderful,” he said, “beautiful.  You’ll be young and happy and see Mrs D again.” 
       He didn’t see any point in telling him the truth. He’d find that out soon enough.  But maybe it was the truth, maybe it would be wonderful, for him.
       A dreamy expression passed across Mr Duncan’s face.  “To see Jeanie again.  And young.  She was quite the hottie when we were younger.  So was I, truth be told.  Had my pick of the girls, but I only ever wanted her.”  He smiled.  “So, young Denny, how are you?”
       “I’m dead, Mr D.”
       His instant laughter gave way to coughing and he clutched himself, the spasms wrenching his frail body.  Denny knelt beside him in consternation, holding the arm of the chair and wishing he could help.
       “Can I get you anything?” he said when the coughing finally subsided.  “Water?  Something to eat?”
       Mr Duncan slumped back in his chair, looking drained, and shook his head.  “No, thank you.  I’m just so tired.”
       “Maybe you should have a sleep.”
       “You’re right, Denny,” he said, “but I’m a bit afraid every time I fall asleep that I won’t wake up again.  Silly really.  I’m ready to go, but I’m not.”  He chuckled softly.
       “Well, how about I stay here with you while you sleep and watch over you?  Would that make it easier?”
       Mr Duncan smiled weakly.  “That would be nice.  You’ve always been good to Jeanie and me.”  He patted Denny’s hand on the arm of his chair.
       Denny smiled.  “No, it was always the two of you who were good to me.  I never got the chance to tell you how much I appreciated it.  But I did, very much.”  He looked down, wiping at a rogue tear.
       “I want you to have something,” Mr Duncan said, struggling to rise.
       “No, Mr D,” Denny said quickly, “you stay there.  Tell me and I’ll get whatever you want.”
       He nodded, relaxing back into the chair.  “In the bedroom, top drawer of the dresser, the small wooden box.”
       Denny quickly found the box and returned to Mr Duncan’s side.  It was only a couple of inches long, inlaid on the top with the shape of a heart in a contrasting wood.  He handed it to Mr Duncan and knelt back down on the floor next to the chair.
       “Everything else in this place had its use in my life,” Mr Duncan said, pulling the lid of the box open, “but these are the only things that really meant anything.  And they meant everything to me.”
       He emptied the contents of the box into his hand, a gold wedding band and a diamond engagement ring. 
       “Jeanie’s,” he said, gazing at them fondly.  “I was paying these off for years after we married, but it was worth it, just to see them on her hand.” 
       He smiled then removed his own wedding ring.  It slipped easily from his shrunken finger.  Placing it with the other two rings, he closed his hand around them for a few seconds, then tipped all three back into the box