Almost Heaven

by Charlotte Douglas

  But he didn’t.

  He couldn’t.

  All he wanted was to make her world right for her again, something he couldn’t do with Jim Stratton off the rails and acting crazy.

  “Mom usually watches Dad like a hawk,” Merrilee said, “to make sure he takes care of himself. She wouldn’t have let this happen.”

  The glaze of shock had returned to her amazing blue eyes and Grant’s old pull toward her tightened again, tugging on his heartstrings.

  “Your mother’s been preoccupied,” Sally Mae said.

  “With teaching?” Merrilee shook her head. “Mom never put her career first. Dad’s always been the center of her universe.”

  “Her universe has shifted,” Sally Mae said with dry disapproval. “Cat took a sabbatical last fall. Went back to school for her Ph.D.”

  “I know that,” Merrilee said. “I may not have come home, but I have stayed in touch by phone and e-mail.”

  “And your parents have told you only what they wanted you to know,” her grandmother said sharply. Sally Mae’s expression and her voice softened. “Don’t blame yourself. None of us knew the full extent of the problem. Not until yesterday.”

  Merrilee straightened her shoulders, as if bearing up under a heavy burden. “So you’re telling me, with Dad’s heavy workload and midlife crisis and Mom’s going back to school, my parents have simply drifted apart?”

  Sally Mae nodded, and Grant kept quiet, waiting for the bomb to drop.

  “No wonder you called me,” Merrilee said with a sigh that sounded relieved. “I’ll talk to them. I know how much they love each other. If I can get them to communicate, they can work this out.”

  Grant closed his eyes. Here it comes.

  Sally Mae fidgeted with the sterling silver flatware beside her plate. “There’s a…complication.”

  “What kind of complication?” Merrilee didn’t have a clue and Grant wished she could remain ignorant. The truth was going to break her heart.

  “Ginger Parker,” Sally Mae said in a tone that suggested the mere name made her sick to her stomach. “She’s the complication.”

  “Another woman?” Merrilee said with a gasp, as if someone had sucker-punched her. “My dad with another woman? I don’t believe it!”

  “That’s where he went when he moved out,” her grandmother said with obvious distaste. “There’s no fool like an old fool.”

  “Who is this Ginger?” Merrilee demanded. “I’ve never heard of her.”

  “Tell her, please, Grant,” Sally Mae said. “Just talking about that…that woman makes me ill.”

  From the emphasis Sally Mae gave the word, Grant knew full well woman wasn’t what Merrilee’s grandmother had in mind, but she was too well-bred to verbalize her true opinion. Grant could think of a dozen words that fit Ginger Parker, but none that would ever cross Sally Mae McDonough’s lips.

  Merrilee’s gaze fixed on him, waiting.

  “Mrs. Parker came here over a year ago,” he began. “She bought the old Patterson place up on Cradle Creek.”

  “‘Mrs.’? She’s married?” Merrilee asked in a tone even more horrified than before.

  “A widow,” Grant explained. “Moved here from New Jersey when her husband died.”

  “What does she look like?” Merrilee said. “Young and pretty, I’ll bet.”

  “Bottle pretty,” Sally Mae said with a sniff. “She must spend a small fortune on auburn hair dye. And applies her makeup with a trowel. Amy Lou down at the Hair Apparent has made enough profit off that woman to buy a new car.”

  “Mrs. Parker is several years older than your father,” Grant added.

  Merrilee’s mouth gaped. “Daddy left Mom for an older woman? I don’t believe it.”

  “She may be older, but she keeps herself in shape,” Grant said. “She’s a runner. Jogs for miles every day in tight little spandex outfits that accent her behind and, uh, generous chest size.” Grant glanced at Sally Mae, whose eyes were closed in disgust. “And she chooses her routes carefully.”

  “Chooses her routes?” Merrilee frowned.

  “Her jogging itinerary makes her highly visible to the male population,” Grant explained. “The woman’s been hot to trot ever since she arrived in Pleasant Valley. She’s cast her net at every man in town.”

  “Correction,” Sally Mae interjected, “only at men with money. She’s a gold digger.”

  “Unfortunately,” Grant said, “your father’s the first catch she’s landed.”

  “The others had more sense,” Sally Mae said with distinct bitterness.

  Grant didn’t bother mentioning how Ginger Parker had made a play for him last fall, pretending to sprain her ankle in front of his house. When he’d picked her up off the driveway, she’d twined her arms around his neck, pressed her breasts against his chest, batted her eyelashes and asked him to take her home. She’d filled his ear the whole time with how lonely she’d been since her husband, a retired army colonel, had died, and had shed tears that seemed transparently fake.

  Refusing to fall for her ploy, Grant had called 9-1-1, and Brynn Sawyer had driven the woman to the hospital in her patrol car. After a thorough examination and X rays, the ER doctor had found nothing wrong with Ginger’s ankle and sent her home. Jim Stratton may have found the woman sexy, but Grant thought her pathetic.

  Guilt gnawed at Grant. Ginger had been as persistent as a burr on a dog. She’d bought a canary after the twisted ankle encounter and showed up at the clinic for a consultation. If Grant hadn’t pawned her off on Jim, believing her no danger to his happily married partner, maybe none of this would have happened.

  Merrilee shook her head. “I can’t believe this. Daddy has more sense than to fall for another woman, much less one like that.”

  “Your father isn’t thinking with his brain,” Sally Mae said.

  “Nana!” Merrilee’s face flushed deep crimson.

  Grant wasn’t shocked by the oblique reference, only that a woman as genteel as Sally Mae would utter it. What she’d said was true. Jim Stratton hadn’t been thinking clearly for a long time. Ginger Parker had only one thing to offer a man like Jim.

  Sex.

  The two had nothing else in common.

  “I’ll talk to him,” Merrilee said. “Make him see what a fool he’s making of himself. And how much he’s hurting Mom.”

  “No.” Sally Mae shook her head firmly. “I don’t think you should do that.”

  The older woman’s response surprised Grant. He’d figured Sally Mae had summoned Merrilee home specifically to talk some sense into Jim. She was the apple of her father’s eye and had always been able to wrap him around her little finger. Grant, too, before she shook the dust of Pleasant Valley off her shoes.

  “Then why did you call me home?” Merrilee pushed back from the table, stood and paced the antique Oriental rug that covered the highly polished heart-pine floor.

  “Men are stubborn,” Sally Mae said. “The more you tell them they shouldn’t do something, the more dead set they are to do it.”

  Grant opened his mouth to protest, but Sally Mae cut him off. “Sorry, Grant, but that’s the truth as I see it, and especially where my son-in-law’s concerned.”

  “If Daddy can’t be influenced, what can I do?” Merrilee’s reddened cheeks would have been appealing if not for her distress.

  Sally Mae smiled with an almost feline cunning that made Grant glad she was plotting against Jim and not him. “I didn’t say your father can’t be influenced.”

  Merrilee took her seat. “I know that look, Nana. You’ve got something up your sleeve.”

  “Sit down, Merrilee June.” Sally Mae reached for a platter of sandwiches and passed it to Grant. “You might as well eat while we talk. You’re going to need your strength.”

  Grant was so hungry he didn’t object to the dainty tuna salad sandwiches with the crusts removed. He filled his plate, but Merrilee took only half a sandwich and picked at it before taking a small bite.

  �
��I want you to move back home,” Sally Mae announced to her granddaughter.

  Merrilee choked.

  Grant raised his eyebrows. Merrilee had made her happiness at leaving Pleasant Valley abundantly clear, and nothing, not even Grant’s marriage proposal, had been able to keep her here.

  “You’re not serious,” Merrilee insisted once she’d cleared her throat.

  “If you want to save your parents’ marriage,” Sally Mae said, “you must stay here. You can’t help them long distance.”

  “If I can’t talk to Dad, what good is staying?”

  She had a point, Grant conceded, but he also was well aware that Sally Mae McDonough was one sharp cookie. She wouldn’t have summoned Merrilee home without a specific plan.

  Sally Mae patted her lips with a damask napkin and laid it beside her plate. “I said you shouldn’t talk to him about that woman.”

  Grant winced. On Sally Mae’s lips, those two simple words sounded like the vilest profanity.

  Merrilee cast her glance toward the ceiling as if seeking divine intervention. “Then what am I supposed to discuss? Cows and horses?”

  Sally Mae’s sly smile returned. “In a manner of speaking.”

  “What good would that do? Nana, I have my work in New York. I can’t just move home and abandon it.”

  Sally Mae straightened her back, the proverbial steel magnolia. But her granddaughter was no slouch in the intestinal fortitude department, either. Grant waited, curious who would win this battle of wills.

  Sally Mae nodded toward the hall, where Merrilee’s bags sat. “You brought your camera. You can work here.”

  “There are precious few weddings in Pleasant Valley,” Merrilee protested.

  “And no Bar Mitzvahs,” Grant added. Jim had kept him informed on how Merrilee was earning her living in New York.

  Merrilee shot him a grateful glance. “I can’t support myself here.”

  “You won’t have to,” Sally Mae said. “I—”

  “I won’t accept charity,” Merrilee said with a fierceness Grant remembered well. “When I left home, I vowed to make it on my own. I don’t intend to return with my tail between my legs and my hand out.”

  With a sigh, Grant recalled that one of the things he’d loved most about Merrilee was her spunk. Without that gumption, she wouldn’t have set out on her own. She wouldn’t have left Pleasant Valley.

  And him.

  “I’m not giving any handouts,” Sally Mae said. “I want to commission your work.”

  Merrilee’s jaw dropped. “You want me to photograph you?”

  “Lord, no,” Sally Mae replied emphatically. “This old ruin doesn’t need chronicling. I want to commission a book.”

  After Jim’s infidelity, Grant had believed himself past surprising, but Sally Mae’s proposal stunned him. What kind of book would interest a woman of her age and social standing? Merrilee’s very pretty mouth was gaping again. Her grandmother’s pronouncement had clearly left her speechless.

  “I want you to record a pictorial account of the life of a country vet,” Sally Mae said. “Dr. Jim Stratton, D.V.M. I’ll pay all your expenses and underwrite its publication. It will make a stunning addition to your portfolio.”

  Merrilee shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m not into pastoral settings. I prefer cityscapes.”

  Grant, however, saw immediately the tack Sally Mae was suggesting. “It’s brilliant, Merrilee. You’ll have to spend hours with your father, shooting him at work. The more you’re with him, the better chance you have of bringing him back to reality. You’ll be a constant reminder of what he’s giving up.”

  “And,” Sally Mae continued, “if you’re living at home, you’ll be a comfort to your mother. This…” She struggled for words. “This foolishness has to be breaking her heart.”

  “Mom has you to lean on,” Merrilee said, but Grant could tell she was wavering.

  “I will be here for your mother,” Sally Mae said, “but I can’t help your parents as you can. Every time your father looks at you, he’ll see your resemblance to your mother, reminding him of his marriage and the happiness it’s brought him. Heaven knows, he needs something to counteract the lust that’s driving him.”

  “Lust!” Merrilee protested. “Dad’s over fifty!”

  “Over fifty but not dead,” Sally Mae said with a wry smile. Her smile faded and her eyes grew flinty. “Although if you can’t bring him to his senses, I might have to rectify that.”

  “Your grandmother’s plan has merit.” Grant struggled to remain objective. He had motives of his own, besides his friendship with Jim Stratton, for wanting Merrilee to stay. “The only reason Jim’s been able to justify his relationship with Mrs. Parker is that neither you nor your mother has been around. He’s living a fantasy with no one to burst his bubble.”

  “A fantasy that will kill him when he wakes up and realizes what he’s done,” Sally Mae added. “You must intervene, Merrilee, before this goes any further.”

  Merrilee’s heart-shaped face contorted into a thoughtful frown. “I’ll stay a week and assess the situation. Maybe my homecoming will snap Dad out of it. But I’m not committing to a book.”

  Sally Mae nodded in agreement. Grant could tell the old woman had lost the battle but had not conceded the war.

  “Grant will take you home,” she announced.

  Merrilee cast him a questioning glance before turning to her grandmother. “Grant told me I could use your car.”

  Sally Mae nodded. “As soon as the battery’s charged. Jay-Jay’s backed up at the garage, but he said he’ll get to it this afternoon.”

  “I’ve kept Grant from his work too long already. I can walk home, Nana. It’s only two blocks.”

  Nothing had changed, Grant realized. Merrilee was home, but she still wanted nothing to do with him.

  Sally Mae set her jaw in a determined line. “You have two pieces of luggage, and rain’s in the forecast.”

  “I don’t mind,” Grant said quickly. “It’s not out of my way.”

  “What about Gloria?” Merrilee asked with a challenge in her blue eyes. “Isn’t she expecting you?”

  Oh, lordy. Gloria.

  He’d forgotten all about her, and there’d be hell to pay when he got home. There always was.

  “I have to go by your house anyway,” Grant said, accepting the inevitable. “No problem.”

  He hoped.

  Merrilee pushed to her feet. “Then I won’t keep you any longer. We can leave now.”

  Sally Mae stood and embraced her granddaughter. “Think about my book offer. We need you here, Merrilee. Your parents need you.”

  Grant bit his tongue to keep from voicing his opinion and went into the hall to retrieve her bags.

  He’d needed Merrilee, too, all those years ago. Needed her like a man needs air. But his need hadn’t been enough to keep her in Pleasant Valley.

  Even knowing how much she loved her parents, he wondered if their plight would be enough to keep her here this time.

  Chapter Three

  In a daze of disbelief, Merrilee followed Grant to his truck. She couldn’t shake the feeling she was moving through a bad dream. If the surrounding trees had started walking and talking, they wouldn’t have surprised her as much as her father’s bizarre and totally uncharacteristic betrayal.

  “Are you sure Dad hasn’t lost his reason?” she demanded of Grant when he climbed into the driver’s seat beside her.

  “He’s not thinking straight, but he’s not insane. He’s been holding up his end of the practice without any problems.”

  “I never thought my father the type to suffer a mid-life crisis. He’s always seemed so steady. So dependable.”

  “He’s not as young as he once was, and he’s been pushed to his limit physically. That has to influence his emotions. And your mom’s not been around to help him keep his balance.”

  “When’s the last time he had a physical?”

  Grant shrugged. “Not in the past couple y
ears that I know of. We’ve been too busy.”

  “But he’s not too busy for Ginger.” Merrilee’s bitterness hit her stomach and, for an instant, she feared she might be sick in Grant’s new truck. “I still can’t believe it.”

  “Maybe you can nip this in the bud.”

  “I don’t know. After what he’s done, I don’t see how Mom can ever forgive him.”

  “She loves him. Love solves a lot of problems.”

  “Causes problems, too.”

  Grant reached over, grasped her hand and threaded his warm, callused fingers through hers. His comforting touch called up powerful emotions Merrilee thought she’d buried for good.

  Grant said, “I don’t think love has anything to do with what’s going on between your dad and Ginger.”

  Merrilee extricated her hand. She’d been thinking of how love had made her initial move from Pleasant Valley so hard. She’d felt as if she’d been torn in two, one half deliriously happy to be living her dream, the other half crying herself to sleep at night, missing home.

  And especially Grant.

  She’d managed to overcome her homesickness. And she’d confined Grant to a deep corner of her heart that she refused to visit. Whether she stayed in Pleasant Valley a day, a week, or longer, she’d make certain he remained locked away. She didn’t want those wounds opened again. And, after all, he had Gloria now, so any residual feelings MJ had for Grant were moot.

  In a matter of minutes he stopped the truck in front of her parents’ home.

  He opened his door and she put her hand on his arm. “Don’t get out. I can manage my bags.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She nodded. This homecoming was difficult. She had to face it alone. She forced a smile. “Gloria’s waiting, remember?”

  His scowl puzzled her. “How could I forget?”

  Maybe things at home weren’t going well for Grant, either, but Merrilee had her own problems. “Thanks for the lift.”

  “Call me if you need me.” Grant’s brown eyes darkened to almost black with what appeared genuine concern. “I want to help.”

  “Thanks. I will.” But, for the life of her, Merrilee couldn’t think what help Grant might be. She couldn’t even conjure how she could ward off the looming disaster.