The Next Person You Meet in Heaven Read online

  “You have to go now.”

  “I want to be with you—”

  “I’ll be right here. But for now, you have to live.”

  “Live?”

  “You were saved from dying once, Annie. You owe the world some saving in return. It’s why you became a nurse. And why you need to go back. To save someone else.”

  “No, Paulo. Please!”

  He let go of her hand. Annie saw pieces of herself disappearing, first her feet and arms, then her knees, thighs, belly, chest, decomposing all that she had reconstructed during the afterlife. The surface beneath her seemed to flatten and melt, and she heard two levels of sounds, as if multiple tapes were playing at once. Paulo was fading into the brilliant glow of the northern lights. Only his face was visible now, close enough to touch. He kissed her, softly, and she tried desperately to hold on to him, to lock him in her gaze, but her lids drooped like heavy curtains and everything went dark. Then Annie felt his two hands on her shoulders, pushing her from heaven to earth.

  She knew those hands had been there before.

  “See you in a little bit,” Paulo whispered.

  When her eyes opened, Annie was staring into a fluorescent ceiling light. She heard a soft mechanical humming and a woman’s voice say, “Doctor, look!”

  Epilogue

  News of the balloon crash spread quickly through the state and in time reached even the farthest corners of the world. People shared photos and made comments on the frailty of life.

  The story told was of a newlywed couple, an inexperienced pilot, and a lucky ending for two of the three passengers. The pilot, who flew the balloon into an electrical line, escaped death by tumbling out of the basket. The bride was thrown to safety by her brave husband, who then jumped to earth and, despite massive injuries, survived for hours, including several minutes after receiving a lung from his wife. He expired in the operating room at the same moment she slipped into a coma due to complications from the transplant.

  What few people knew was that the doctors, briefly, lost Annie as well. She flatlined in her comatose state before being revived by a team that included her Uncle Dennis, who burst into tears when her heart began to beat again.

  “You’re OK now, Annie. You’re gonna be OK.”

  He forced a smile. “You gave us a scare.”

  Annie blinked.

  For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel scared at all.

  * * *

  Time passed. Like flakes shaken in a snow globe, the lives of those involved in the tragedy settled slowly to the ground, not in the same spots but in new pockets of peace.

  Teddy moved to another state, joined a church, and spent much of his time leading discussions about second chances. Tolbert closed his business and sold the property. He spent five months summoning the courage to write the widowed bride. A week later, he got a letter back.

  At her request, Tolbert drove to Annie’s home and was stunned to see her answer the door, visibly pregnant. She was kinder than he expected and seemed remarkably calm in light of all that had happened. Tolbert told Annie repeatedly how sorry he was, how much he liked Paulo from their brief encounter in the rain. Before he left, he asked if Annie could ever forgive him for the events that led to her husband’s death, but she insisted that wasn’t necessary.

  “Winds blew,” she said.

  Tolbert left, never knowing another wind that had blown, one he had diverted, yanking Paulo to the side of the road on that rainy night, preventing a speeding car from striking him, a tragedy that a different version of the world had planned, a version that did not grant Annie and Paulo even one night of marriage, nor the child that would come from it. But there are so many times our lives are altered invisibly. The flip of a pencil, from written to erased.

  * * *

  Shortly after that visit, Annie got a map, packed a small bag, and made a journey in her car to an amusement park by a great gray ocean. Upon reaching the entrance, she stepped out and stared at the spires and minarets of Ruby Pier, the bejeweled front arch and a tower drop ride that hovered above it all.

  She asked staff members if there was anyone who remembered a man named Eddie, who used to fix the rides. She was taken to a maintenance shop behind the bumper car ride, a shop with low ceilings and dim bulbs and porcelain clown heads and coffee cans full of screws and bolts. Annie was introduced to a middle-aged man named Dominguez, who wiped his hands on a rag and said yes, he used to work for Eddie, right up to his death. When Annie told him who she was, he dropped the rag and slumped back on a stool, nearly toppling over.

  For a moment, he could only mumble, “Oh, man. Oh, man.”

  Then he began to cry.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . Eddie would be so happy if he knew you were OK.”

  Annie smiled.

  Later, Dominguez took her to the back and showed her a chest of Eddie’s possessions, knickknacks and birthday cards and a pair of army boots. Annie asked if she could take a box of pipe cleaners. Dominguez said if she wanted, she could have the whole chest.

  “Can I ask you something personal?” he said before they parted.

  Annie nodded.

  “How does it feel to have your life saved? I mean, I saw what happened that day at the park. If not for Eddie, you would have died.”

  Annie touched her belly. She said it was hard to explain. She said she used to feel that she’d give anything to change what had happened, but now she felt differently. Mostly, she said, she felt grateful.

  * * *

  Seasons came and seasons went, and when the days grew hot, the crowds returned to the seaside amusement parks, and kids rode the newest version of the tower drop ride at Ruby Pier, unaware, as children blessedly are, of previous fates that were altered in its space.

  Annie, meanwhile, gave birth to a daughter, whom she cradled gently to her chest. She called her Giovanna, an Italian name for “gift from God,” because, as Paulo had suggested, Annie returned from heaven to bring her into the world.

  One day, when Giovanna was four years old, Annie took her outside to look at the stars.

  “They’re so high, Mommy!”

  “Yes, they are.”

  “Is there anything higher?”

  Annie only grinned. She never spoke about her journey through the afterlife, not to anyone. But she did not intend to be silent forever.

  One day, when Giovanna was old enough, Annie would tell her a story about heaven. She would tell her of the people who were already there, her Grandma and her older brother and her Daddy in a tuxedo, watching the stars. She would tell her of the secrets she had learned on her visit, how one life touches another and that life touches the next.

  She would tell her that all endings are also beginnings, we just don’t know it at the time. And for the rest of her days, the child would be comforted knowing whatever her fears or losses, heaven held the answers to all her earthly questions, beginning with five people who were waiting for her, as they wait for us all, under the eyes of God and in the true meaning of that most precious word.

  Home.

  Note from the Author

  This story, like The Five People You Meet in Heaven, was inspired by my beloved uncle, Eddie Beitchman, a World War II vet who thought he was “a nobody, who never did nothing.”

  When I was a child, Eddie told me of a night he nearly died at a hospital, and rose from his body to see his departed loved ones waiting for him, at the edge of the bed.

  From that moment, I viewed heaven as a place where we encounter those we touched on earth, and where we get to see them again. But I recognize this is my view only. There are many others, along with many religious definitions, and all should be respected.

  So this novel, and its version of the afterlife, is a wish, not a dogma, a desire that loved ones like Eddie find the peace that eluded them on earth, and realize how much we all affect one another, every day of this precious life.

  Acknowledgments

  The author would first li
ke to thank God for the blessings of health and creativity that allow a man to create a story about heaven in the first place.

  In addition, many thanks to the following people for help and inspiration in creating this book:

  First, from the research areas: Kay MacConnachie, occupational therapist and clinical manager at Motus Rehabilitation in Warren, Michigan, whose work with patients recovering from hand replantation helped paint a vivid portrait of the emotional and physical scars that followed Annie her entire life; Gordon Boring, hot air balloon pilot and president of Wicker Basket Balloon Center in Wixom, Michigan (and, readers: please know, accidents like the one described here are extraordinarily rare!); Lisa Allenspach, senior staff physician at Henry Ford Hospital and medical director of the Henry Ford Hospital Lung Transplant Program in Detroit; and Val Gokenbach, chief nursing officer at Baylor Scott & White All Saints Medical Center–Fort Worth, in Texas. Special thanks to Jo-Ann Barnas, who did meticulous research and asked great questions. And the character of Sameer was inspired in part by the true story of the late Everett (Eddie) Knowles, whose accident as a child in 1962 led to a breakthrough in the field of limb reattachment.

  In addition, the author wishes to thank David Black, an agent and friend through thick and thin; Gary Morris, Jennifer Herrera, and Matt Belford of the David Black Agency; and the great folks at HarperCollins, starting with Karen Rinaldi, my cherished editor and publisher, who gave me great insight into female protagonists; Jonathan Burnham; Brian Murray; Hannah Robinson; Doug Jones; Frank Albanese; Leah Wasielewski; Stephanie Cooper; Sarah Lambert; Tina Andreadis; Leslie Cohen; Leah Carlson-Stanisic; Michael Siebert; and Milan Bozic (who gave us another amazing cover).

  On the home front, many thanks to Kerri Alexander, who keeps my life straight, and Marc “Rosey” Rosenthal, who keeps that life from falling apart; to Vince, Frank; to Antonella Iannarino, our amazing web guru; and to Mendel, who is still a bum.

  There would be no Five People concept without my Uncle Eddie—the real Eddie—who told me my first story of the afterlife. And when the fictional Eddie says it wouldn’t be heaven without his wife, that was me talking about Janine, who inspires me every day; to my family members who gave this book its early reads; and to my mother and father, who taught me how to tell stories and who have, since my last book, joined each other in heaven, where they no doubt are spending every minute together, as they tried to do on earth.

  Finally, my deepest thanks to my readers, who continue to surprise me, inspire me, motivate me, and bless me. For now, heaven may be a prayer and a guess. But I know, thanks to you, I have experienced some of it already.

  About the Author

  MITCH ALBOM is the author of numerous books of fiction and nonfiction. He has written six consecutive number one New York Times bestsellers, including Tuesdays with Morrie, the bestselling memoir of all time. He has also penned award-winning TV films, stage plays, screenplays, a nationally syndicated newspaper column, and a musical. Albom’s books have collectively sold more than thirty-six million copies in forty-two languages. He founded and oversees S.A.Y. Detroit, a consortium of nine different charitable operations in his hometown, and created a nonprofit dessert shop and food product line to fund programs for Detroit’s neediest citizens. He also operates an orphanage in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. He lives with his wife, Janine, in Michigan.

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  Also by Mitch Albom

  Tuesdays with Morrie

  The Five People You Meet in Heaven

  Have a Little Faith

  For One More Day

  The Time Keeper

  The First Phone Call from Heaven

  The Magic Strings of Frankie Presto

  Copyright

  THE NEXT PERSON YOU MEET IN HEAVEN. Copyright © 2018 by ASOP, Inc. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  FIRST EDITION

  Cover design by Milan Bozic

  Cover illustration © LEOcrafts/iStock/Getty Images

  Digital Edition OCTOBER 2018 ISBN: 978-0-06-229446-3

  Version 08202018

  Print ISBN: 978-0-06-229444-9

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