Just Like Heaven Read online

  “I did the math. You married even younger.”

  “Whose side are you on anyway? I want somebody to agree that my daughter is making a huge mistake, that she’s throwing away a great chance to study architecture to live in some little apartment by the docks with a guy who guts fish for a living.”

  He stopped and pulled her into his arms. “Our first fight?”

  She resisted for a moment. He could feel her pulling away from him, physically and emotionally, but then she relaxed and rested her forehead against his shoulder.

  “Not much of a fight,” she said. “We can do a lot better than that.”

  “I overstepped. Gwynn’s decisions aren’t any of my business.”

  “They aren’t my business either. I’ve tried very hard to let Gwynn make her own choices without interference, but this time I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut.”

  “Maybe you should try harder.”

  He saw a flash of something in her eyes, but she didn’t erupt this time. “She has no idea what it’s like to do without. Maeve and I lived a hand-to-mouth existence much of the time. Gwynnie’s idea of hardship is buying her jeans at Lord & Taylor instead of Saks.”

  “Give her a chance, Kate. She might surprise you.”

  “You don’t know my daughter.”

  “I know her mother and if Gwynn’s anything like you, she’ll get it right.”

  He wished he could be there to see how it all turned out.

  They picked up Thai food for dinner and ate it in the car, laughing as pieces of chicken slipped from their chopsticks and bounced across the cracked leather upholstery.

  “You’ve got to love old cars,” Mark said as a peapod went flying past him. “You couldn’t do this in a Rolls.”

  “You’re right,” Kate said. “I think it might be against the law.”

  They were parked at the edge of the beach. Sunset had come and gone and the sky was starry and dark. Early Springsteen played softly from somewhere in the distance.

  “Next time I’ll pick the music,” he said, handing her a bottle of water from the bag on the seat between them. “The Boss seems to have a monopoly on you Jersey girls.”

  “Billy Joel isn’t allowed across the state line,” she said, swilling down a huge gulp of Poland Spring. “Listening to him is a felony.”

  The banter was silly and they both knew it. They also knew that something was happening between them, something so far beyond wonderful that it was the one thing for which they had no words.

  And God knew they had words for everything else.

  She polished off her food and tossed the empty container into the paper bag on the seat. “That has to be the best Thai food I’ve ever had,” she said with a deep sigh of contentment. “I wonder if they deliver to Coburn.”

  “So you like Thai food, Manhattan clam, and iced tea,” he said. “What else?”

  “You.”

  Oops. That hadn’t been on her list of recommended talking points.

  She shrugged with a combination of embarrassment and delight. “Okay. I said it and I’m not taking it back.” She took another long drink of water. “That’s the good thing about having a six-week limit. We can be totally honest with each other without long-term repercussions.”

  His expression didn’t change but she sensed a subtle shift in the atmosphere between them.

  “Why don’t we forget about the six-week limit and enjoy the ride?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” she whispered as he pushed the bag onto the floor and slid closer to her.

  The kissing was even more delicious than the Thai food.

  “You taste like basil and ginger,” she said.

  “So do you.”

  It was like being a teenager again but better. They both knew the boundaries, and for that moment they were willing to play by the rules. Forty-one was better than sixteen. Forty-one understood this unexpected gift for the priceless blessing it was and knew how to enjoy every kiss, every touch, every second of exquisite longing for more.

  “We fogged up the windows,” he said when they finally broke apart, on fire and yearning for more than either one could give at the moment.

  “I see why you like this car.” She sat up and straightened her shirt, her hair, her messy and tangled emotions. “I’d forgotten why bench seats were so popular.”

  He cupped her face with his hands and drank deeply of her mouth. “There’s no time limit on what I’m feeling.”

  She wanted to tell him that there was no time limit on her feelings either, that she had never felt so open, so vulnerable, so filled with love and hope, but she didn’t know where or how to begin.

  Or if she even wanted to start.

  She tilted her head to the right. “Did you hear that?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  She took his hand and placed it over her heart. “I think the walls of Jericho are tumbling down.”

  Maeve was sitting in the kitchen, sipping herbal tea and working at her laptop, when Kate got home. “Almost midnight,” Maeve said, eyes twinkling. “Feel like talking?”

  Kate kissed the top of her mother’s head. “No,” she said. “Okay?”

  “Whatever you say, honey.” The twinkle in her eyes grew brighter.

  Maeve probably thought they’d rented a room somewhere and made love all afternoon while an emergency medical crew stood guard at the door. Why disappoint her?

  She drifted upstairs, hugging her secrets to herself.

  Mark was halfway to Rocky Hill when he realized that he had turned off his cell phone at the luncheonette and forgotten to turn it back on.

  Eleven voice mails, two pages, six text messages.

  One very major screwup.

  “I took over the meeting for you, pal, but I’m not happy about it. Give me a call. I’m your sponsor and I want some answers. I’ll keep my cell on. Call me. I don’t care how late it is.”

  He punched in Scott’s number.

  “Sorry to wake you,” he said. “I was out with Kate and forgot it was Friday.” He hoped he made up in truth for what he lacked in responsibility.

  “Are you sober?” Scott sounded tired and deeply concerned.

  “Totally.”

  “This is the first time you blew a meeting, pal. We were worried.”

  “I apologize,” he said. “We drove down to Spring Lake and—” He stopped. The details were his business and Kate’s and he would make sure they stayed that way.

  “So what’s the story with you two?”

  “We had a good time.”

  “You can tell me to mind my own business—”

  “Mind your own business.”

  Scott ignored him. “—but Marcy and I were pretty sure we saw something going on between the two of you. Some real sparks.”

  “I like her,” he said. “Very much.”

  “So did we.”

  He laughed. “You didn’t say more than hello and good-bye to her.”

  “Ex-cops have good instincts.”

  Mark heard the sound of whispered conversation.

  “Marcy wants to know if you two would like to come over for dinner Sunday.”

  “I’ll ask Kate and get back to you.”

  More whispered conversation. “We figured she was there with you.”

  “I’m in my car. She’s in her house.”

  And even more whispers.

  “Why don’t you put Marcy on,” he suggested, “and I’ll tell her myself.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to you, pal,” Scott said with a laugh. “You want to save another life? Bring Kate to dinner on Sunday and I’ll owe you big.”

  Dinner with Scott and Marcy would lead to a movie with Ann and her husband, which would lead to another dinner and another movie and before you knew it he and Kate were a couple with friends in common and a shared social life, which would be history in less than six weeks.

  Why now? He had told her to forget the six-week deadline and enjoy the ride, but tha
t was easier said than done. It hung over his head like the sword of Damocles.

  I know there has to be a reason for bringing her into my life now but I can’t figure out what it is. I believe in Your wisdom and trust in Your mercy, but if You could see fit to explain Your plan for Kate and me, I wouldn’t mind a bit.

  Either that or give them more time.

  Eighteen

  Kate slept straight through until noon the next day. She had never done anything like that in her life and it was as decadently wonderful as it was disorienting. She felt simultaneously slothful, pampered, and guilty as hell.

  What was it Dr. Lombardi had said to her? Listen to your body. And she had. Her body had told her in no uncertain terms that she needed to recharge her batteries after that amazing day with Mark at Spring Lake.

  Listen to your body. If she had listened to everything her body had to say, she would have ended up trying to seduce an Episcopal priest in the front seat of a Honda Civic.

  She wasn’t sure what had stopped them from actually making love instead of just making out. The fact that she probably needed her cardiologist’s okay? His religious vocation? The memory of his ex-wife? A tiny front seat in the middle of an active parking lot? Cellulite? She hadn’t a clue.

  They had talked about everything else. Religion. Politics. Family. Life. Death. Disappointment. Joy. Illness. Their taste in music and food and movies. Sooner or later they would have to talk about sex.

  She carefully tucked her hair into a hotel freebie shower cap and showered, then booted up her laptop to check e-mail while she dressed.

  TO: [email protected]

  FROM: [email protected]

  SUBJECT: next Saturday—questions

  Help! Andrew and I are trying to figure out a menu and we need to know:

  1. what can’t you eat?

  2. what does Father Mark like to eat? (i.e., does he eat fish??)

  3. could you bring the wine? (please please—our budget won’t stretch)

  4. e-mail to Gran bounced—would you ask her if she’d make a chocolate cheesecake for dessert?

  5. I think you forgot to send Andrew that note. Just in case, his e-mail is [email protected]

  ASAP above!

  Love you,

  Gwynnie

  * * * * * *

  TO: [email protected]

  FROM: [email protected]

  SUBJECT: RE: next Saturday—questions

  1 and 2—Fish is great for both of us

  3—ok but we’ll need some soft drinks too

  4—why don’t you phone her?

  5—I promise I’ll get to it

  Love you back.

  * * * * * *

  TO: [email protected]

  FROM: [email protected]

  SUBJECT: Gwynnie’s dinner party

  Notice please I didn’t call you today and interrupt your outing with your new friend. I’m in London and Paris next week but wouldn’t miss Gwynnie’s party. I’d swing by and pick you up but have feeling you’ll carpool with Super Cleric. Let me know.

  If you feel like talking, you have my #.

  L, PNG

  * * * * * *

  TO: [email protected]

  FROM: [email protected]

  SUBJECT: RE: Gwynnie’s party

  Glad you’ll be there and yes, Maeve and I will carpool. We’ll talk when you get back.

  Safe trip, P.

  L from K

  * * * * * *

  TO: [email protected]

  FROM: [email protected]

  SUBJECT: dinner invitation

  It’s seven a.m. I hope you’re asleep. (insert suitably inappropriate comment here.) Scott and Marcy (you met them in the parking lot at The Old Grist Mill) invited us to dinner Sunday night. Command performance for me but you’re free to say no.

  Hope you say yes.

  * * * * * *

  TO: [email protected]

  FROM: [email protected]

  SUBJECT: RE: dinner invitation

  Yes.

  (Am I going to regret this?)

  She slipped into jeans and a yellow cotton sweater and gathered her hair into a ponytail. She glanced at her face in the mirror and noted, to her surprise, the faintest glimmer of color from the sun. Makeup could wait until later.

  Maeve’s laptop was set up on the kitchen table, surrounded by empty coffee cups, notepads, and an assortment of pens, pencils, and markers. A copy of the Kama Sutra was propped open to a particularly alarming, if intriguing, page.

  “I’m doing a workshop at a fifty-five-plus community in Boca next month,” Maeve said. “Do you think number seventy-eight is too athletic?”

  Kate bent down and peered more closely at the crisp, clear color photograph. “I think you’d better ask an orthopedist. I’m not sure anyone outside the Romanian gymnastic team could do that.”

  Maeve’s fingers were a blur on the keyboard. “Thanks, honey. I’ll contact a few orthopedists and maybe a cardiologist or two, just to be on the safe side.” She tore her eyes away from the screen and looked at Kate. “Honey, you have never looked more gorgeous.”

  Kate felt her cheeks redden. “Thanks. A good night’s sleep can do wonders.”

  “So can sex,” her mother said with her usual blunt honesty. “He might be a priest but he’s still a man. I hope you used protection.”

  “Mom!” Now she sounded like Gwynn. “Last week you asked me if I was in perimenopause.”

  “There are reasons besides birth control to use a condom, Kate.”

  What twisted fate decreed she would be having a birds-and-bees conversation with her mother twice in one lifetime?

  “We haven’t had sex. I can’t even think about sex until I have my stress test.” It’s been so long I’m not even sure I remember how to have sex.

  “Judging by that smile on your face, I think you should call Dr. Lombardi and find out.”

  Her mother had a point but she refused to acknowledge it. “Any oatmeal left?”

  “In the saucepan. Want me to nuke it for you?”

  “I’ll do it.” She spooned the oatmeal into a bowl and popped it into the microwave for forty seconds. “By the way, I asked Mark over for supper.”

  That got her mother’s attention. “I was going to throw together a salad and some soup.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll pop some bread into the machine when I get back and figure out what to do about dessert.”

  “You could stop by the bakery,” Maeve suggested, “and get more of those brownies.”

  “No,” Kate said. “I want to make something myself.”

  She ignored Maeve’s comment about hell freezing over and sat down with her oatmeal and the bread machine cookbook.

  “You said yes to Gwynn, didn’t you?” Maeve asked as she popped a blank CD into her drive and pressed a few buttons. “She really wants to thank Mark for what he did.”

  “I think she wants us to see her and Andrew together and give our familial seal of approval.”

  “And you’re not inclined to give it.”

  “I don’t have any bad feelings toward Andrew. He seemed like a nice enough young man. I just don’t think he’s right for my daughter.”

  “Try to keep an open mind,” Maeve urged. “Don’t say things you’ll regret. There’s a chance Andrew is going to become part of our family, and you don’t want to get off to a bad start.”

  Kate looked down at her bowl of oatmeal, sans cream, sans sugar, and sighed. “You know I hate it when you’re right, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do,” Maeve said.

  It started small.

  Mark came over for supper on Saturday night. Sonia and Liz happened to drop by. Two of Maeve’s oldest friends came over for coffee and a friendly game of cards. Before either Mark or Kate realized what was happening, the carriage house was filled with people laughing, talking, playing cards, drinking coffee, getting to know each other.

  And
checking out Father McDreamy.

  Kate quickly lost track of the number of thumbs-up signs flashed across the room by matchmaking married friends who were dying to hook her up with Mark, who was definitely the center of attention. No surprise there. He had the kind of presence that drew the eye, a combination of physical beauty and strength of character that was irresistible.

  The next day they drove over to Pennsylvania for dinner at Scott and Marcy’s house. The small dinner for four had expanded without their knowledge to include Ann and her husband Charlie, and Matty and Lynn. Kate quickly realized they were all members of the same AA group that Mark led near New Hope, and she found herself impressed by the sense of family that had developed between them and their spouses.

  She was also impressed by the deep regard and affection they had for Mark and listened avidly as they tried to persuade him to stay in the New Jersey/Pennsylvania area and forsake his New Hampshire roots.

  “You’re tempted, aren’t you?” she asked as they wound their way along country roads on their way back to her house.

  “More than ever.” He kept his eyes on the dark and winding ribbon of road. “I’ve got to admit I never saw you coming.”

  “You weren’t on my radar screen either, clergyman.”

  “I wish—”

  She shook her head. “It is what it is. You have to go back. We both know that. Why waste time debating a done deal?”

  Of course her words might have been a whole lot more effective if she hadn’t started to cry immediately afterward, but those were the breaks.

  “Ignore the waterworks,” she ordered him, sniffling into a paper napkin she found in his glove box. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not crying half as much as I was last week.”

  “That’s like quantifying the ocean.”

  “You’re going to miss these operatic crying jags when they’re gone.”

  “I’m going to miss you.”

  He reached for her hand and held it tight the rest of the way home.