Speed of Light by Amber Kizer Page A

“Please. Coffee would be great.”
    We shook hands. I saw Tens heading toward me, frowning.
    “I’ll meet you at the coffee bar. Just let me pass off my groceries, okay?” I asked.
    “Sure.”
    I pushed the cart over to Juliet and Tens. “She can see me. You.” I waved toward Juliet. “I think I need to talk to her.”
    “I don’t want to talk to her.” Juliet pouted.
    “I’m not asking you to. Buy anything you want.” I shoved a wad of cash at her. “I’ll talk to her, then come find you in line or at the van, okay?” I asked Tens.
    “What if she takes you before I can get to you?” Tens shook his head.
    “I’ll risk it.”
    “But … are you sure you should talk to—” Juliet argued, on the verge of shaking.
    “Of course not, but I have to investigate why she thinks she can see us—me. Maybe she’s dying like Faye, or maybe having a near-death experience changes everything. I don’t know. But I need to find out. This will help us with your mom.” I finally said the magic word. Anything to do with Juliet’s mother seemed to be the right thing. We didn’t understand why Roshana was wounded and aging at the window. Her wounds kept her from speaking, so at best I got moments of pantomimed motion when I helped a soul through.
    She nodded. “Fine.”
    “Stay within my sight,” Tens commanded.
    “Sure.”
    “Don’t give anything away. She might be fishing,” he warned.
    I found Delia sipping on an iced latte when I sat down.
    “Thanks for waiting.” I didn’t know where to start with small talk, so I dove straight in. “What did you mean about dying and light?”
    Delia hesitated, then plunged ahead. “I don’t talk about this very much. People don’t understand. They think I lost my mind on April second, 2006.”
    “What happened that day?”
    “I was giving birth to my second child and I hemorrhaged. I don’t remember much, a few minutes, maybe seconds after that, I watched it unfold below me.”
    “Out of body? Like in the movies?”
I should take notes
.
    “You think I’m nuts too.” She lowered her gaze with chagrin.
    “No, not at all. I promise. I’m only trying to understand. Please keep going.”
    She shrugged. “I died. They brought me back. But while I was dead, I went somewhere. There are no words—the best I can say is that my world became the most amazing light, brilliant but not blinding. Warm. Relaxed. Peaceful. I didn’t want to come back. Only the thought of my children without a mother overcame my desire to stay there. It changed my life completely. I was a maternity nurse for years, but a few months ago I switched to hospice. I’m in my third month at the inpatient center.”
    “That’s a huge shift. From babies to death?”
Whatdoes this mean for us? What are the ramifications? Can all near-death patients see us?
    She smiled. “It’s not as big as you might imagine. Both include labor and new beginnings. Everyone deserves a good death, don’t you think?”
    “Yes, I do. What do you see when you look at me?”
    “Briefly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw that same dazzling, incredible light. Focusing on you, I can see your face, but if I don’t really try, I don’t know … I’m sorry. It’s so hard to explain. I’m shaking. I’m sure I scared you. I don’t normally accost strangers.”
    “I’m not scared of you.” I shook my head.
    “Did you also have a dying experience? Is that why there’s light around you?” Delia asked.
    “Of a sort. Why don’t you tell me more about where you work?” I thought of Faye’s upcoming battle.
    She nodded. “Deal.” And she settled into her story.

CHAPTER 9
    T ens closed his eyes thoughtfully. “You think because she’s been on the other side, the veil is thinner? She can see Light even when she’s not actively dying?”
    “I don’t know. That makes the most sense.” I stretched out on the bed, shoving aside piles of our research. My eyes were sandpapery.
    “Lucinda Myer has several