The Reaper's Heart: A Novel

By Welland East Andrus

...I was still wondering if I was completely crazy or if a miracle itself just came and saved my life.

Max's job as a reaper is simple, taking people from the moment of their death to the halfway point between this life and the next.

When tragedy strikes the life of James and he decides to take his own life

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trilogy Christian Publishing
• Release date: Jun 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887383903

Welland East Andrus

WELLAND EAST ANDRUS is a Christian romance author who published his first book, How Bulimia Saved My Soul, at age twenty. Welland likes to write about tough subjects that don't get addressed enough through fictional novels. He feels this brings light to the subject in an easier way. He has full aspirations to be a pastor. Welland enjoys going to church and being with his friends. He is also a big fan of Christian metal, especially the band Demon Hunter.

Book preview

Contents

Acknowledgments

Preface: Author’s Note

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Epilogue

Afterword

Acknowledgments

Iam thankful to be writing my second book. This is a dream come true for me. When I was in elementary school, I read Misery by Stephen King, and ever since then, I have known I wanted to be a writer. That was around the same time I felt God call me to be a pastor for the first time. Between writing books and sermons, I knew I wanted my writing to make an impact on others and not just tell stories. D. L. Moody, one of the major theologians that had an impact on my faith, once said, I have one rule about books. I do not read any book, unless it will help me understand the Book. I want to follow a similar goal. I don’t want to write any book unless it draws people closer to the One who wrote the good book.

Having said that, I want to acknowledge a few people who always inspired me to keep writing. Michael DeLeon, Darla DeLeon, and their mission with Steered Straight. Their mission to always help people come out of their addictions has inspired me in faith to show people the light that will help them out of any situation they’re in. I don’t know where I’d be without their constant help, but I know for certain I wouldn’t be publishing my second book right now.

I want to acknowledge my granddad Chic for always encouraging me to read the Bible, for sending me books written by theologians, and for praying for me by name every single night. His constant encouragement throughout my life has brought me to my faith and where I am today.

I want to acknowledge my grandmother Claire. She has encouraged me in my writing since I started, and from writing small stories in high school all the way to writing novels as an adult, she has always been there to help me.

Finally, I want to thank our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. He could have left me to die in my sin, but out of His love, He made the biggest difference in my life and in my eternity.

Preface: Author’s Note

Iwrote my first book, How Bulimia Saved My Soul , when I was only twenty. After God saved me from that horrible disease that I wouldn’t wish on my own enemy, I knew that I wanted to write and publish that book. I wrote in my journal in March of 2017 that I would write it, and in 2020 that dream became my reality. Shortly after the release of the book, I sat down and started thinking of different ideas for what my second book would be, as I had always dreamed of making a career out of writing. I worked on a few ideas, but I just couldn’t think of a good project to stick with all the way through. That’s when I came up with the idea for this book. See, I realized that God saved me from way more than just an eating disorder, and He continues to save so many other people from various types of trials and hardships. The one thing I noticed, though, is the church as a whole doesn’t cast enough light on some of the topics that plague the world. Eating disorders are one. The next thing I don’t think gets talked about enough in the church is where I got the idea to write this book: suicide.

Before becoming a follower of Christ, when I was a freshman and sophomore in high school, suicidal thoughts were something I struggled with alongside of my eating disorder. I wrote notes and poems about it, and I also made different plans to do it. When I was fourteen years old, both my brother and my mom found self-harm scars on my upper arms, stomach, and legs—scars that remain to this day. I’m not the only one who went through this. As a matter of fact, many people in the church struggle with this, but the church hasn’t been paying enough attention to see it.

The goal of this book is to do just that. I want to show through the following story that God can, does, and will save someone from suicidal thoughts. If you’re struggling with thoughts of suicide, you are not alone. You are not the only one battling this, and you don’t have to battle this alone. Satan will do everything he can to try to convince you that your family and friends wouldn’t understand or that they wouldn’t care. Don’t believe him or his lies. First Peter 5 says he looks for people he can devour. But don’t let him have the victory.

Secondly, to cover my tracks, I want it to be known, and I want to give a disclaimer before the reader starts this book that this is a work of fiction. I use fictional characters to shed light on a very real issue that is hurting people. I don’t claim that reapers or soul guiders are real. I don’t claim that when you die, there will be a reaper that will take you to a halfway point, nor do I claim that when we go to heaven, we will be assigned jobs such as reaping. This is a work of fiction. I believe what the Bible says that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. I made this work of fiction because I know the topic of suicide is very real.

The idea of Max came very randomly. I don’t know why he did, but one night when I was trying to work on a different book project, the idea of chapter one popped into my mind. Chapter one of this book sat in my computer untouched for months because I had no idea where I would take the story. One night that all changed; as I thought of this chapter and the character of Max, I thought of a whole storyline and purpose of this book. I hope this book brings you as much joy, laughter, and tears as it did me while I was writing it.

As you start this book, please remember that God loves you. He sent His Son to die for you so that you could spend eternity with Him. God is bigger than your suicidal thoughts; God is bigger than self-harm; God is bigger than your eating disorder, and God has power over the devil.

God bless you, my friends.

—Welland Andrus

Prologue

Change as we know it is inescapable. I believe it just comes with being a human. Some good, some bad, sometimes it just goes unnoticed over a small period of time, and by the time you realize it, you’re a completely different person. Just look at your life in the first ten years after you graduate high school. You face more changes there than arguably any other decade in your life. One day, you’re dependent on your parents, your school, and sometimes other family members as well to get by. Then you go to college or get a job; you get your own place; you meet the right person. You might start a family or have plans to. Either way, you celebrate or grieve one change at a time until you’re a different person. How you celebrate and grieve is completely up to you.

I stood on a bridge looking out over the water below and off to the horizon. My moment of change had started right here years earlier. Now, I did what I could to make sure that change happened in the lives of others. Except I tried to make it a good change. My attention went from the water below the bridge to a person standing on it.

It doesn’t have to end this way! I called out. The gentleman about ten feet away stood on the wall that separated him from his life to possibly the end of it.

You don’t know, he called back to me. You don’t understand; no one does.

Then talk to me about it! I cried out to him. I want to understand; help me understand. He stared at me, and I could read the hesitation in his eyes as the blue and white lights from the police and ambulance cruisers behind me flashed across his face. God, please talk to this man, I thought to myself. Please show him there’s more to his life than what he’s seeing right now.

I know it’s difficult! I’m not going to lie to you and say it isn’t. But right now you’re looking at a brutal ending that doesn’t need to be. Please, step off the railing, and we can make a new one. We can change the story. The lights from the bridge and the lights from the cruiser continued to illuminate the night sky, and all there was now was silence and a prayer that whoever this gentleman was would decide to continue living. He finally nodded his head and stepped down. As his feet hit the pavement, EMTs raced over to him, and he fell on his knees, sobbing. I would have gone over and talked with him, but he seemed to be occupied with them, and I didn’t want to interrupt them. I turned and walked back to where all the cruisers were at.

Thanks for coming down, I heard a voice say. I turned, and the police chief patted me on the back. We truly appreciate you helping out.

Oh, it’s nothing, really. It’s just my job, I replied.

Yeah, one you do humbly too, he said. You saved that man’s life.

It was all Jesus, I replied. He got me through all the red lights quickly to get down here. He gave me the right words to say and gave that gentleman courage to make the right choice.

Well, praise God for small miracles like yourself, he admitted. I’m gonna go get more details on this. But I’ll catch you around! We shook hands, and he was off, sprinting his way back up the bridge. I got back into my car, gave a suppressed yawn, and turned the key in the ignition. It was 2 a.m. I had plenty of time to go home and get back to sleep and rest a few more hours before my alarm went off, and I returned to work as a suicide counselor at the hospital. The engine of my car that I’ve had since college roared in the quiet night, and for a moment I stared in the rearview mirror at the scene unfolding behind me as the first responders helped the guy walk down the bridge. Whatever was in store for him after tonight was in God’s hands now, but I could see that change was coming his way. Just like it did in my life so many years ago—and so many years before that.

As I put my car into drive and started to head home, I looked into my mirror one more time. Seeing the blue lights shine in the distance and the small Coast Guard boat in the water made me reflect on my past. I wondered how Max was doing; it’d been a while since I’d heard from him. It’d been a while since I was the one in need of rescuing. Instead of the police lights, though, I had gotten a light from God. Relief mixed with tiredness as I worked my way home.

Suicide takes the lives of so many men and women around the world, and it’s sickening. In my time so far as a counselor focused on it, the stories I’d heard would be enough to drive anyone to their knees. But I’d also learned in my time doing this that there’s nothing that God cannot handle. Even in all my situations…so many years ago.

Chapter One

Jordan sat at a red light just outside of Cape May in New Jersey. It was almost 7 p.m., and the traffic of the city’s rush hour had finally started to die down. Almost everyone at this point on Friday night was either getting home to their family, on the beach, or getting ready to head to some bar. The rush hour traffic was always bad all year around. During the summer it was a lot worse when the tourists came down from Pennsylvania. Despite Jordan being twenty-two, she didn’t care about the bars or even drinking. All she worried about was getting home to see her boyfriend. Jordan looked at her phone to see if he had texted back yet that he was off work. It had been a few hours since he last texted her, and she was starting to get nervous. Her night was already planned out with him. She would go home, get changed, meet him at one of the quieter restaurants in town, and go for a romantic walk up the beach. It would be the perfect night to celebrate their two-year anniversary. She looked at her phone again, hoping to see a text from him—nothing.

Jordan seemed to have an amazing life. College student, a job in her field, and she was in love with the man she met her freshman year in college. Her boyfriend was also in college, and he had a good-paying job for still being a college student. They both lived comfortable lives together. For two people their age, they couldn’t have felt more blessed. She pulled out her phone again to look to see if she got a text back. Still nothing yet.

As the light turned green, she put her foot on the gas while staring at her phone and crossed the intersection. The next thing Jordan realized was that she heard the sound of tires squealing. She dropped her phone and turned to look, but it was too late. She took one deep breath to brace herself from the impact as a Ford F-250 slammed into the driver’s side of her small Hyundai Sonata. Glass went everywhere, and the car flipped over. She tasted blood; there was glass in her mouth, and she felt burns all over her side.

Somebody help her! a voice screamed. She unbuckled her seatbelt to try and make herself comfortable on the roof of the flipped-over car, but the pain was so intense she could hardly move. Her body slammed down on top of shattered glass, which made her cry out in agony. She lay there for a few moments, trying to reach for the door of the car. She tried to cry out.

What just happened? she thought to herself. Her long dirty blond hair became stained with blood like it was cloth, and she tried her best to gasp for air—which seemed impossible to do at that moment. She looked up and watched as blood dripped off the side of the door from where her head had smashed into it. With every drop, her world seemed to flash before her eyes, her dark green eyes. The driver’s door to her car was forced open, and she saw the legs of a man. She lay on her back and looked up at him.

Are you okay, ma’am? he screamed at her.

I, I can’t feel most of my body, she said. She tried her best to get the words out, but it felt almost impossible to get breaths out, let alone words. He kept trying to talk to her, but she could hardly understand. The sound of him talking and the sound of other people gathering around the accident and talking all seemed to blend together. Stay with me, ma’am! the man told her as he got on his knees. He wanted to try his best to get her out of the car, but she was bleeding so heavily that he was afraid to touch her. The sound of people talking was replaced by the sound of loud sirens and two men rushing by her side, trying their best to get her out of the car without causing her too much pain. No matter how careful they tried to be, she groaned in pain as they put her on the stretcher. She looked around to gather where she was. Jordan saw a lot of people, two smashed vehicles, and the driver of the truck sitting straight up on a stretcher, vomiting blood. She tried her best to look around and communicate with the paramedics as they moved her, but she couldn’t understand what they were saying.

One thing stuck out to her, though. Outside of the crowd stood one man. He looked really young. Couldn’t be any older than twenty-five. He was wearing black dress shoes, gray slacks, a blue blazer over top of a white button-up shirt, and a red and blue striped tie. He was standing alone right at the doors of the ambulance.

What’s he doing? Jordan tried to ask. What’s he doing? Who is that?

She’s in shock; we must get moving right away, she thought she heard one of them say. The next thing she saw was the inside of an ambulance, and the man in the suit got in, came over, and sat down next to her. She heard the back of the ambulance shut. She started coughing hysterically and looked at the paramedics working around her.

It’s okay; it’s okay; everything will be okay, the man in the suit said. His jacket and shirt started to get blood all over them as he put his hands on her shoulder. He didn’t appear to mind it; he was more focused on her. She stared into his blue eyes, and her pain seemed to be replaced by a warm comfort. It was almost like staring into the Pacific Ocean.

So beautiful, she whispered. The paramedics in the vehicle didn’t seem to notice.

Breathe in and out. Nice and slow, he said to her. Jordan did. She took steady breaths, and she started to get more comfortable. She was still in a world of pain, but her breathing was under control at least. Everything started to get hazy and quiet. She continued to look into his eyes as tears started to pour out of hers. Everything will be okay, the man said back to her, but she only faintly heard him say that. She finally closed her eyes and passed out.

She woke up in a bed in a hospital room. She sat up and threw off the blanket that was over her and started coughing loudly. The lights in her room were on and bright, but when she looked outside, it was extremely dark. She kept her eyes focused on the window that was on the wall left of her when she heard a voice speak to her.

Good morning! she heard someone say. She turned her head really fast and saw the same man from the back of the ambulance standing, leaning against the wall that was to her right. He started to walk toward her.

Where am I? she asked.

In the emergency room right outside of Cape May, he answered. She started to ask him how long she had been out, but before she could even get the words out, he spoke for her.

You were out for a few days. Your accident was on Friday night, and it’s Tuesday at 2 a.m. right now. She coughed a few times and leaned back in bed. He came closer to her and looked at the machine that was next to her bed.

Do you remember much? he asked. Jordan thought about it.

Almost everything, surprisingly, she said. I got hit pretty hard, didn’t I?

That you did. He stood back from the bed and pulled up a chair to talk to her.

My name is Max, he said.

Nice to meet you. She looked at Max’s eyes again. They were so blue and mesmerizing that she swore if she focused on them, she would completely miss anything that anyone was trying to tell her. His blue jacket brought them out even more. He’s one of the most attractive men I’ve ever met, she thought to herself.

Likewise! Max said. Jordan took a deep breath and looked more closely at Max. He was an extremely handsome man. He had his hair combed back, and his suit didn’t have any spots or wrinkles in it. He was built but wasn’t too overly big. His five o’clock shadow was trimmed perfectly around his jawline.

Has any of my family come in to see me? Jordan asked.

Most of them, yes. Your boyfriend came in as well. She looked across the room and saw several flowers and a small black box sitting next to one of the vases.

Catch me up to speed, she said. What happened to me? Any broken bones?

You did break a few bones. The worst one was your arm. On top of that, you pierced your lung. On what, I’m not entirely sure, but they had to hook you up to machines to keep you breathing. She shook her head. She couldn’t believe it.

What happened to the other driver? she asked.

He’s okay now, Max said. I’m gonna go see him tomorrow.

Geez, did he not look both ways before driving through the intersection? Jordan snapped. Is it that hard to pay attention to the road?

Weren’t you also on your phone not paying attention? Max asked.

Yeah, but I was paying enough attention to see the light in front of me! she said argumentatively.

Fair enough. He stood up, walked across the room, and stared out the window. Jordan sat back in her bed, thinking about what had happened at the accident. Everything was so clear right up to the moment she passed out in the back of the ambulance. Everything was crystal clear.

When I was a kid, my friends and I used to ride bikes a lot, Jordan said. I remember one time my friend’s bike chain went out, and he fell straight down and smacked his head on the pavement. He was unconscious for about an hour and didn’t remember anything about the accident.

So I would assume you’re wondering why you can remember everything about your accident? Max asked. The more Jordan thought about her past and the accident, the more detailed everything became. She even started to remember things about her childhood that she had forgotten, and more and more memories started to flood her mind. Something began to seem off about her situation. Max couldn’t be a doctor. Doctors don’t come to the scene of the accident. And even if they did, they definitely wouldn’t send doctors as young as him.

How did you know I was on my phone during the accident? Jordan asked. Max was hesitant to answer.

When I was your age, I was a cop. I worked for the Wildwood Police Department and thought I would be making a lifelong career out of it. Unfortunately, I got hurt, and I was removed from the force.

Who are you? Jordan asked. Her voice started to sound very nervous. You’re not answering my question. You’re not a paramedic, yet you were at the accident and in the back of the ambulance with me! Who are you? At this point Jordan was yelling.

When you woke up, the sheet was fully over your body, Max said as he turned away from the window, looked at her, and walked over to the foot of her bed. Your body was fully covered with the sheet; what does that typically mean? You also woke up without any physical pain, but you never questioned why despite the fact I told you about your broken bones and pierced lung. Why do you think that is?

No… Jordan said. No, that can’t be right. I’m not…

I’m so sorry, Max said. Jordan jumped straight out of bed and ran over to the flowers that were sitting on the table across the room. She saw a little card sitting in one of them that said Rest in peace. The black box next to the vase held a ring inside of it. When she turned and looked, she saw her own body still lying in the bed, still covered in the sheet.

I’m so sorry, Max said again, coming up and standing next to her.

When did it… Jordan couldn’t get the words out.

They got you to the hospital after the accident and tried their best, Max said. They really did. But your heart gave out the Monday night after the accident. Jordan was shocked but noticed she couldn’t cry.

What are you then? Are you an angel coming to take me?

Not quite, Max said.

You sound like an angel to me, Jordan said. She had sass in her voice.

"Jordan, in the New Testament of the Bible, I’m sure you’re familiar with the scenes when some of the characters got confronted by angels. The angels always told them to fear not or