Just Like Heaven Read online

  He’d clicked SEND/RECEIVE so often since breakfast that the touchpad was showing signs of wear.

  Three new messages.

  TO: [email protected]

  FROM: [email protected]

  SUBJECT: revised contract attached

  WHERE’S THE CONTRACT????? pls sign it asap and send it to Bishop Clennon so he can put the final stamp on it.

  What are you waiting for?

  Maggy

  He wished he had an answer to that question.

  TO: [email protected]

  FROM: [email protected]

  SUBJECT: meeting

  The church basement will be closed next week—renovations. Temple Beth Israel said we can use their auditorium, but not Friday. Any ideas?

  Ann

  He’d get back to her.

  TO: [email protected]

  FROM: [email protected]

  SUBJECT: info

  Room 405 - Central Jersey Medical Center

  Katherine Margaret Lee French

  dob 01-06-65

  622 Indigo Lane

  Coburn, NJ

  Good luck.

  SCOTT

  He couldn’t stop smiling as he printed out the note.

  Sometimes God didn’t just show a man the way. Sometimes He handed him a road map.

  “We’re going to miss you,” Janine said as she gestured Kate toward the obligatory wheelchair. “The last time we had this much fun was when Robin Williams came to visit a friend.”

  “And all that chocolate,” one of the nurse’s aides piped in. “We’ll need to start a Weight Watchers group.”

  “You were all great to me,” Kate said. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  Janine rolled her onto the patient elevator and pressed G.

  “So did Lombardi give you the big farewell speech?”

  “He did. I think he’s a little concerned.”

  “Concerned? We should all have charts like yours.”

  “I don’t seem to be following the emotional profile of the post-MI patient. He seems to think I might suddenly turn into an emotional loose cannon.”

  “It’s been known to happen but it’s usually nothing more than excessive weeping and hugging everyone in sight.”

  “Highly unlikely in this case,” Kate said. “I’ve never been one for a lot of emotional displays.”

  Janine rolled her across the lobby and out the front door into the late-afternoon sunshine.

  “Last stop. Everybody out!”

  Kate threw back her head and took a deep breath of sweet spring air. “Oh God, I’d forgotten how wonderful the air can smell.” Five days of recycled hospital air had made her hungry for the real thing.

  “You have your meds?” Janine asked.

  Kate jiggled the paper bag on her lap. “Check.”

  “Instruction sheets?”

  “Check.”

  “Follow-up appointment schedule?”

  “Check.”

  “Then that’s it. You’re officially discharged.”

  Kate stood up and gave Janine a bear hug. “I’m really going to miss you.”

  Janine hugged her back. “Who’s picking you up: your mother or your daughter?”

  “Neither one.” She gestured to a black Mercedes moving slowly toward them around the curved driveway. “Paul of the red roses.”

  Janine’s eyes widened. “The plot thickens.”

  “I hate to disappoint you, Janine, but he was in the neighborhood.”

  It would make a funny story to tell Paul on the drive back up to Coburn.

  The black Mercedes rolled away from the hospital entrance and a silver Toyota took its place. Mark angled around the small car, rounded the driveway, then found a parking space in the covered lot across from the emergency services area. A pair of elderly ladies in Easter-egg-pastel dresses were making their way slowly toward the elevator. They clutched each other’s hands at the sound of his footsteps behind them, a flash of insight into old age and vulnerability.

  He slowed his pace as he came even with them.

  “Good afternoon, ladies. How are you today?” He kept his tone upbeat, his cadence even and unthreatening.

  They turned to look at him and he was rewarded with twin looks of relief.

  “We’re just fine,” the taller of the two said with a winning smile.

  He fell into step with them as they exchanged pleasantries about the weather. He sneaked what he hoped was a discreet look at his watch but they caught him in the act.

  “You don’t have to worry about us,” the taller one said, “but we’ve enjoyed your company.”

  “I’m sure you have important things to do,” said the other with a flirtatious wink of one blue-shadowed eye. “Don’t let us stop you.”

  He wished them well, reminded again of how much he enjoyed the company of old people, then took off for the lobby at a run.

  A crowd waited at the elevator bank. He ducked into the stairwell and took the steps two at a time until he reached the fourth floor and room 405.

  It was empty.

  He grabbed the first nurse he saw. “I’m looking for Katherine French.”

  “Sorry,” the young man said, “she was released about fifteen minutes ago.”

  “You mean she’s gone?”

  “That’s what I mean.” He flagged down a laughing nurse. “Hey, Patty, 405 checked out, right?”

  “Right,” the nurse named Patty said as she hurried past. “Janine wheeled her downstairs.”

  “She’s okay?” Mark asked.

  The male nurse shrugged. “Doubt Dr. Lombardi would let her go if she wasn’t.”

  Relief shifted into determination.

  “Do you know where Coburn is?”

  Time for Plan B.

  “What was that all about?” Paul asked as he exited the hospital grounds. “The nurse winked at me.”

  “You’re famous,” Kate said, delighted to be out of bed and in a moving vehicle. “Between the pizzas and the roses, you were the talk of the fourth floor.”

  “Did you like them?”

  “You know I did, but three dozen? That was a bit showy even for you.”

  He didn’t laugh. That should have told her something, but she was so intoxicated on freedom that it slipped right by her.

  “So how did you end up pressed into delivery service?” Kate asked as he merged with traffic on Route 1.

  “I volunteered,” he said. “Gwynn is at ShopRite stocking up on low-fat, low-cholesterol goodies for you.”

  “And Maeve?”

  “Burning sage on your windowsills.”

  It was the best laugh Kate had had in weeks. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Actually she did say something about burning sage.” He shot her a wicked grin. “Right after she reorganizes your underwear drawer.”

  “Oh God!” Kate sank down in the passenger seat as far as the shoulder restraint would allow. “She told you about the thong?”

  It was his turn to laugh. “What was it our mothers used to say about clean underwear?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Like wearing freshly laundered undergarments provided some kind of mystical protection against being hit by a truck.”

  “Guess you proved that wrong.”

  “The truck that hit me was only metaphorical,” Kate said. “Besides, I’m not sure thongs qualify. They’re more ornamental than functional.”

  “You don’t hear me complaining, do you?”

  She gave him a friendly whack on the forearm. “Try wearing one.”

  “You know you had us pretty worried.”

  “I think you’ve all gone just the slightest bit nuts.”

  “How’re you handling it?”

  “Me? I’m good as new.” She swiveled around in her seat to face him. “Did you know Ed showed up straight from the outback?”

  “Gwynnie told me.”

  “Did she tell you her news?”

  “She’s moving in with the fisherman.”

&n
bsp; “When did she tell you?”

  “She didn’t. I’m her godfather. I saw them together at Easter.”

  “They were together at Easter?”

  “She brought him to Maeve’s for dinner.” He frowned in her general direction. “You don’t remember?”

  “Sort of,” she lied. Gwynn’s boyfriends were legion and, unfortunately, not terribly memorable. “And you saw there was something between them?”

  “What am I, blind?”

  “I didn’t suspect a thing.”

  “No surprise there.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You know you’re not exactly clued in when it comes to stuff like that.”

  “She’s my daughter. If there’d been something to see, I would have seen it.”

  “There was and you didn’t.”

  “That’s beside the point.” She fiddled with the fan adjustment. “Did you predict an engagement too?”

  He whistled. “They’re getting married?”

  “That’s what she says.”

  “What about school?”

  She mimed flushing a john.

  “Ouch,” he said. “When did you find out?”

  “She told Maeve and me yesterday and I assume she told Ed over an early dinner last night.”

  “Unless he told her his news first.”

  “Ed has news?”

  “You really are out of the loop, French. Marie’s expecting number four.”

  Kate felt her jaw drop into her lap. “Number four? Marie’s older than I am.”

  “And obviously still fertile.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” There she was recovering from a minor heart attack while Ed’s second wife dealt with morning sickness. It boggled the mind.

  “Feeling any pangs?”

  “No! God, no! Ed and I never had a fraction of what he and Marie have together.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Haven’t you ever thought about having another child?”

  “Not since Ed and I divorced.”

  “You don’t have to be married to have a child,” Paul reminded her.

  “Bringing up a child alone is hard work. I don’t think I’d want to do it again.” Even though Ed had remained an involved parent, she had still been the one who shouldered most of the day-to-day responsibilities.

  “I miss the chaos,” Paul was saying. “I would’ve liked another two or three.”

  She knew how tough it had been for him to adjust to seeing his kids only on alternate weekends.

  “You’re a man,” she consoled him. “You could start another family when you’re seventy-five.”

  “Gotta love biology,” he said, and she rewarded him with another poke in the arm. “Maybe we should get together and give it a try while there’s still time.”

  It was another old joke and one that usually didn’t require a response.

  “What do you think?” he pressed. “We’re older and wiser. We don’t expect fireworks. Maybe we should give it another shot.”

  “Very funny. I’m not sure postcardiac care includes practical jokes.”

  “I’m not joking.”

  She stared at him in utter disbelief. This couldn’t possibly be happening. Paul was her old friend, her movie buddy, the pal she unloaded on when work or family or just plain life took a sharp turn toward crazy. She knew what had gone wrong with his marriage to Jill, why Edie broke off the engagement, what his four kids gave him on his last birthday that had brought him to tears.

  “I love you, Katie.”

  Oh God. Why didn’t he just drive them off a bridge and be done with it?

  She reached over and patted his arm. “And you know how much I love you, Grantham.”

  Please let it go, Paul. If you stop now, we can just pretend this never happened.

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “Where is this coming from?” she demanded. “When I left for England you were thinking of asking Lisa Dennison to go to Barbados for the weekend. Now you’re saying you’re in love with me. What happened?”

  “Your heart attack happened,” he said, changing lanes. “Suddenly everything was crystal clear.”

  “I’m the one who’s supposed to be on an emotional roller coaster, not you.”

  “Back off, French,” he said. “I’m having a moment here.”

  She had to laugh despite herself. “Do you have any idea how utterly ridiculous this will sound a few weeks from now?”

  “Maybe it won’t,” he shot back. “Did you ever think of that?”

  “I like being on my own, Paul. You know that.”

  “So do I,” he said, “but life is short. Do you want to spend the rest of it alone?”

  “I guess I always assumed that’s exactly how I would spend it.” She had Maeve. She had her daughter. She had good friends. Wasn’t that enough? Being alone had never held any fear for her. She was strong, self-sufficient, content with who she was and what she had achieved.

  Some women were given the whole package, romantic love and family and success, and some were given a portion of the whole. She understood that and was okay with it. Two out of three wasn’t bad. If she were a baseball player, she would be in the Hall of Fame.

  Besides, how could a woman miss what she didn’t understand? Clearly she wouldn’t recognize romantic love if it hit her in the head with three dozen American Beauty roses.

  “Humor me, Kate. Keep an open mind. Have dinner with me tomorrow night and let’s see what happens.”

  “We tried the romantic dinner thing ten years ago. We laughed so hard the candles guttered.”

  “Ten years is a long time. We’ve changed.”

  “Paul, have we met? Romantic gestures are lost on me and you know it.” Love at first sight. Soul mates. Two hearts beating as one. She was clueless when it came to the Hallmark school of romantic love.

  “Maybe you’re a late bloomer.”

  “Maybe I’m happy the way I am.”

  He grinned over at her. “Maybe you’re afraid I might be on to something.”

  She started to say something cutting, but a flash of insight cut her short. He’s lonely, she realized. Beneath the smart remarks and veneer of sophistication, her old friend was lonely and that knowledge touched her deeply.

  Intellectually she understood what he was feeling, but she had no firsthand knowledge of the emotion. This wasn’t the kind of loneliness you erased by going to a movie with an old friend. This went far deeper into terra incognita. Maybe you had to have opened your heart wide to another person at least once in your life in order to feel that kind of loneliness.

  Maeve had, many times. So had Gwynn. The only men with personal knowledge of Kate’s heart were Dr. Lombardi and the man in the Grateful Dead T-shirt.

  She tried to imagine what it would be like to feel that kind of deeply intimate connection with a man, Paul for example, but the best she could do was conjure up the same deep friendship and respect she felt for her ex. Hardly the stuff of everlasting love.

  And definitely not the stuff of high romance.

  Paul made a hard left onto Indigo Lane and her heart leaped at the sight of the carriage house nestled at the end of the block in a stand of oaks and maples. Home, she thought. Her small and wonderful home for one.

  “Think about it,” he was saying as they approached the driveway. “By tomorrow night you might be looking for a break from Mother Maeve.”

  “Okay, okay,” she said, too preoccupied with excitement at being home again to argue. “We’ll go out to dinner tomorrow night.”

  “I wouldn’t mind more enthusiasm.” He pulled in behind Maeve’s crazy purple VW and turned off the engine.

  “I don’t have a romantic bone in my body. It’s nothing personal.” She unlocked her seatbelt and sighed as she looked across the yard. “I feel like I’ve been away for a century.”

  “Go on in,” he said. “I’ll bring your bags.”

  She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You’re a good f
riend.”

  He gave a short laugh. “That’s a lousy thing to say.”

  She took her time walking across the front yard, letting the sunshine warm her shoulders, filling her lungs with the smell of newly cut grass. Her mother’s laughter spilled through the open windows and beneath it she heard her daughter’s chuckle. And there was a male voice too. An unfamiliar male voice. Startled, she stopped halfway up the path and looked back toward the street.

  A pale blue Honda was parked midway up the block, behind Greg Kormac’s flashy Navigator. She had stolen a parking spot from a car exactly like it on Monday. Maeve and Gwynn had seen its twin parked behind her Miata at the Promenade yesterday. And now here it was on Indigo Lane.

  A burst of something close to pure joy spread through her chest. He found me! She hurried up the path and burst through the front door.

  Maeve popped into the hallway. She looked like a teenager, aglow with excitement. “You’ll never believe who—”

  “Hello, Kate.”

  The world faded away. Everything, her mother, her child, her best friend, the floor beneath her feet, the very air in her lungs, it all vanished at the sound of his voice.

  . . . I won’t let you go . . . I’ll never let you go . . .

  She knew his voice, the smell of his skin, the way his hands felt against her skin, the taste of his mouth, everything that mattered. Everything she would ever need to know about him. Her heart surged, new and untried, with something painfully, scarily close to joy.

  She ran to him, or maybe he ran to her. One moment she was standing alone in the middle of her hallway and the next she was in his arms, cheek pressed against his broad chest, breathing in his smell, listening to the quick and steady beat of his heart.

  How long was it since she had been held in a man’s arms? Months, years, maybe forever. She didn’t know. She didn’t care. Heaven existed. She could say that now as a natural fact.

  His laughter rumbled beneath her ear. “Come on, Kate,” he said in the same rich baritone she remembered, “let me see your face.”

  Laughing herself, she reluctantly leaned back in his arms and looked up at him.

  “Oh my God!” she cried out. “You’re a priest!”

  Six