by Laura Ward
* * * *
Past Heaven
Copyright © 2014 by Laura Ward
Cover Design by: Sarah Hansen of Okay Creations
Formatting and interior design by JT Formatting
All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
License Notes
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Title Page
Dedication
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
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
Author Links
Dear Reader
Acknowledgements
About the Author
To anyone who has had their heart break from the loss of a loved one,
and then allowed that heart to love again.
A LOUD SHRILL sound broke through the silence of the night. What was that noise? Dear Lord, was that the phone ringing? I buried my head under my pillow. If my mother-in-law was calling for help with her Words with Friends app, I was going to lose my ever-loving mind. That woman would stay up all night, trying to find complex wordage to outplay her sixty-year old besties.
The phone rang again.
We had begged that crazy, old bat to stop calling us so late. I opened one eye and squinted in the darkness. Shit. My alarm clock read one o’clock in the damn morning.
My body went rigid, and I took a hyper inventory of my family. My husband snored loudly beside me, and my daughters were tucked in bed safely. Seconds passed before dread hit my stomach, and I jumped to answer the call. When the phone rang in the middle of the night in suburbia, it could only be the worst kind of news.
With sleep in my voice and my mind half-comatose, I answered, “Hello?”
The sound of shock was louder than I had realized. It thundered through my ears, until I wanted to cover them with my hands to block out the noise. Entering Liz’s home at one thirty in the morning was like walking into every nightmare I had never let myself envision. My stomach rolled, and my palms were sweaty. I rubbed my chest, right over my heart. It was broken for Liz, but I had to be strong for her. I steeled myself, clenched my jaw, and wiped away my tears.
Liz’s parents sat on either side of her on the couch, holding her, while they cried. Police officers stood off to the side, conversing quietly. Why were they still here? What did they think we needed from them? It was over.
They were too late.
Anger coursed through my veins, heating my face. My mouth hung open. I wanted to scream as loud as I could. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. I slapped my hand over my lips, holding the noise inside. The boys were asleep upstairs, and I would not yell.
Holy shit, the boys didn’t know.
Liz wasn’t crying. She sat white as a ghost, wrapped in a blanket, shaking from head to toe. My God, why? Why her? Why him?
“Liz?” My whisper roared through the room.
Liz’s head whipped up at me. My stomach dropped, and I forced myself to not turn away. Tears filled my eyes, and I took a deep breath. I was never more scared in all of my life. She was my best friend, and I was terrified to look at her. I knew what I would see, and I didn’t want to go there, but I did.
One single tear rolled down Liz’s cheek. And her eyes? The ones that had sparkled with laughter, winked with mischief, and beamed with pride…they were dead. Flat. Empty.
She was broken.
Kneeling at her feet, I clasped her cold, clammy hands in mine and turned to her parents. “Pat? Jim? Why don’t you both head to the guest room downstairs and get some sleep? In the morning, we can talk to the boys and make the arrangements.”
“I… I don’t want Liz to be alone.” Her mother’s whispered sob was conflicted. She wrung her hands and glanced over at Jim as if she didn’t know what to do. Who really did? What could any of us do now to make this better for Liz and the boys?
“I’ll stay with her.” I looked into Liz’s broken eyes and squeezed her hands in reassurance. “I won’t leave her. You both need your strength for tomorrow.” Tomorrow would be worse. Unimaginable as the idea was, tomorrow would be even harder. Liz would still be in shock, and she would have to break the news to her boys.
Her parents stood up, looking at one another before nodding in agreement. Jim closed his eyes and turned away from us. Pat looked over Liz to me. Her blue eyes filled with tears, and she blinked them away. Her eyes softened as we stared at one another, and I accepted her silent gratitude with a slight nod, though it was completely unnecessary.
Liz’s parents kissed the top of her head and then headed to the basement. I released Liz’s hands and rose to stand in front of her. “Hey, I’m going to ask the officers to leave now. I’ll be right back.” Liz nodded, clutching her blanket tighter around herself.
After a few words, the police left and I clicked the dead bolt on the front door. Resting my forehead against the cold surface, I closed my eyes. My head throbbed, and my chest constricted.
I was afraid to be alone with my best friend.
Liz was the one friend who had sat by my side and had held my hand while I waited to hear if my biopsy was malignant, and the one who had celebrated with me when it was benign. We knew each other inside and out. I knew she added feta cheese to every food possible, and she knew to always bring me chocolate éclairs—just because. I got this. I got her.
Forcing my eyes open, I pushed the fear away and turned back around. Liz sat frozen on the same spot on the couch. “C’mon, sweetie. Let me help you upstairs.” Liz took my hands, and I guided her, one-step-at-a-time up the stairs to their bedroom.
Their bedroom.
From now on, it would only be her bedroom.
Not theirs.
Not anymore.
Once in her room, I peeled the blanket from her shoulders and looked down at L
iz’s body. My eyes widened, and I held my breath. The blanket hadn’t been given to her solely for warmth. It hid the blood.
Liz gagged and pressed her hand to her mouth as she ran to the toilet and vomited. I followed quickly behind her, and then gathered her hair in one hand while I rubbed her back with my other.
Exhausted and depleted, Liz sat back on the floor and grabbed a tissue to wipe her mouth. She looked up at me, tears spilling out of her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Cindy. This is gross. You can go. Don’t stay in here with me.” Her protest was weak.
Liz had held my hair back on more than one occasion in college after I had over-served myself at a fraternity party. She had mopped the sweat off my forehead and hadn’t judged me for telling my husband I would never have sex with him again, during the birth of each of our children. The circumstances were dire, and I owed her this and more.
“Hush. Let me take care of you.” I turned on the faucet to Liz’s bathtub and adjusted the knobs until the temperature was right. I wanted to support Liz in a way I had never done before. I had been the one to make her laugh, to stop by uninvited with a Diet Coke and juicy gossip. I never had to help Liz. She was the strong and steady one.
Until now.
Helping her off the floor, I turned her away from me. She was frail. Just yesterday, we had played with our kids at the park, and tonight she could barely stand unassisted. Her shoulders hunched over, and she shook as I eased the zipper down her back. The dress stuck to her skin where the blood had soaked through. Gingerly, I pulled the dress away from her, starting at her shoulders until she could step out of it. Then, I wrapped the ruined garment in a ball and shoved it into the waste basket. I’d get rid of it before she had a chance to see it again.
The hum from the ventilation fan and the sound of rushing water filled the small room. We didn’t speak as I unclasped her bra and set it aside. I was a chatty person by nature. I talked. All. The. Time. It was kind of who I was. I was also crass. I told a lot of jokes and was the life of the party. Silence made me uncomfortable, so I’d babbled just to make noise.
Not now. Not with Liz. Unspoken words flew between us. In the quietness, I reinforced to her that I would not leave her. She wasn’t alone.
Liz stepped out of her underwear and into the warm water. I knelt on the side of the tub and used a washcloth to wipe the remnants of dried blood from her body. Cupping my hands, I wet her long hair. As if she were one of my daughters, I worked in her shampoo, and the scent of lavender filled the air.
Liz sat in the tub with a blank stare. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She watched me, searching my eyes for an answer. I had never felt more helpless in my life. I looked away as my eyes brimmed with tears. The look of despair and her need for resolution were too much. Neither of us were ready for those answers.
Helping her out of the tub, I dried her and pulled a pink nightgown over her head. She took the valium I had brought from home and slipped it into her mouth without question. Her trust for me was unconditional, and I bit my bottom lip, fighting back the never-ending tears.
We faced the mirror, staring at our reflections, as I ran the brush down her hair in long strokes. I couldn’t look away from her. The empty hollow look in her eyes, the look of life leaving her, made me feel sheer desperation. I had to find a way to bring her comfort.
I walked her to her bed, and we both fixated on his nightstand. Glasses were perched on top of a pile of books. A cell phone charger waited for use. Liz was paralyzed, and I was unsure how to help her move forward from something like this. The reminders were everywhere. He was gone, but not. She could not escape this. Finally, I took control and pulled down her comforter. She scurried over to his side and wrapped her arms around his pillow, burying her face in it. Turning off the lights, I slipped off my shoes and climbed in next to her.
She rolled over and found my hand in the dark. I squeezed her fingers tightly.
“Cindy?” Her raw, pained voice hurt my ears.
“Yes, hon?”
“I can’t do this. Not without him. I can’t live my life without Jack.” Her voice cracked at the end, and she sobbed. Body-wracking, breath-stealing, soul-shattering sobs. Yet, her cries were silent.
I held her body to mine as she wept. I wasn’t cut out for this. I was the fun friend. I didn’t know how to help someone stay alive when their heart was barely beating, but I would try. I would keep Liz alive when she didn’t know how. She would do the same for me. That was what happened when you loved a friend so much that they had become a part of you.
I laid my cheek on the top of her head and stroked her hair. “I know, but you will. For yourself and your boys, you will go on. Your life has changed, but it isn’t over. I promise, I’ll be here every day until you believe this yourself.”
I held her until her sobs slowed. I held her until her breaths became deeper. I held her until she fell into some kind of tortured sleep. Then I did something I hadn’t done since I was a child. I prayed to God—to help me be strong, to find the right words, and to make my words be true.
Dear God, let her survive this.
24 hours earlier
“CHRIST, YOU LOOK stunning,” he said with a devilish grin.
I sipped my chardonnay and winked at my husband, not sure if he was being truthful or kind. Either way I’d take it. My friends all envied me for having a husband like Jack. He made me feel adored no matter where we were or what was going on around us.
I carried an extra ten pounds on my curvy body, and my dress was a bit snug. Jack and I budgeted carefully, and we didn’t have the funds for a new outfit for this occasion. I scanned the room while tugging on my dress and squirming to get it just right. I should have tried harder. I should have borrowed something from a girlfriend—this was Jack’s big night. Person after person shook his hand, hugged him, congratulated him, and I felt guilty, unworthy. He should have a looker on his arm, not a housewife who had barely taken the time to style her hair and hadn’t taken a second to apply makeup.
Nabbing a mini quiche from the passing waiter, I looked up into the loving, brown eyes of my husband.
“I need to steal you for a moment,” he murmured in my ear. Peeking over his shoulder, I noticed a line of people had formed behind him. Everyone waited to grab a minute of his attention, but he politely ignored them. Instead, he took me by the elbow into the hotel lobby. A small knot grew in my stomach. Jack never walked away from someone wanting to speak to him. I pulled back to ask him what was wrong, but he hurried us into a private corner.
“Are you okay?” My hands rested on the lapels of his jacket. I searched his face, concerned. This was so unlike him. My husband was nothing if not a giver. Jack was that man—the one who had actually given someone the coat off his back.
Just last week, as we left a benefit concert at the Meyerhoff Symphony Orchestra, I had watched Jack spot a homeless man shivering from the fall cold. Without hesitation, Jack had removed his coat and had given it away. He was the most generous and caring person I had ever known. I was lucky enough to be married to him, but unlucky to have to share him with enthusiastic supporters. I adored him, but I was selfish—I wanted him all to myself.
“I’m fine, honey. I just needed a second alone with my gorgeous wife.” He rested his hands on my waist. “These have been the craziest months of my life. I’ve been neglecting you, and I’m so sorry for that, but it’s almost over. We’re almost there, Liz. So much good is about to happen.” Jack’s eyes glimmered, and he couldn’t keep the excited smile off his face. His tone was convincing, like he was trying to reassure me, but I already knew this. Jack had sacrificed his personal life—our life—to achieve his goal. His work was for a higher purpose, but my understanding that hadn’t made these last few months any easier. I missed him. We all did.
“I know. Don’t worry about me and the boys.” I tilted my head to the side, proud of what he had accomplished, and smiled. “We’re fine. Lobbying for new laws and fun
ding is a long process, and we know it’s for the greater good. I’m so incredibly proud of you. I just want some you and me time.”
Jack pulled me closer to him. I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him gently, and a moan escaped his lips as he pressed them more firmly against mine. A tingle rushed through my body, and a smile touched my eyes. Even though we had been together for almost seventeen years, his kisses still had the power to make me tremble.
“Mmm. I needed that. Thank you. And thank you for your unwavering support. I love you.” Jack squeezed my upper arms and stared into my eyes. He knew how much his extra hours at work had impacted our family. The boys missed him desperately, as did I. He would make it home several nights a week for dinner and almost always for bedtime stories, but he had been working much more than any of us were used to. Still, his body vibrated with energy. He was proud of his work, and he should be. A goal he had tirelessly worked toward, almost since I had known him, would come to fruition next week.
With his hand wrapped in mine, Jack walked me back into the hotel ballroom. A slideshow of photographs of Warren agency clients was shown in a loop. Uplifting and inspiring songs played, setting the tone for the night. The lights in the room flickered and people hurried to find a seat. With a swift kiss on his cheek, I whispered in his ear, “Good luck.” Jack’s face beamed with exuberance as we parted.
While he walked to the podium, I searched for a spot in the front row. I was anxious to claim a seat where Jack could catch my eye, and I could give him the smiles and winks he didn’t need, but always sought out.
The chattering in the ballroom rose in pitch as Jack approached the podium and tapped the microphone. Several of Jack’s co-workers waved to me from across the aisle. Everyone looked forward to this night in November all year long. Their happy smiles were contagious. Even though the room buzzed with energy, everyone quieted down quickly.
“Good evening ladies and gentleman. For those of you who may not know me, my name is Jack Atwater, and I’m Executive Director of the Warren agency. It’s a pleasure to stand before you tonight, on one of my favorite nights of the year, to celebrate the achievements and dedication of our staff and volunteers.”
