Until I Die Again [On The Way To Heaven] (Soul Change Novel)

by Tina Wainscott

  She jumped, turning to face him. An array of expressions crossed her face, relief and embarrassment being two he could identify. “You’re Miguel, aren’t you?”

  “The one and only,” he stated without a smile.

  “It doesn’t look like business,” she said. “So she’s the accountant around here.”

  “Yep. She must have some good news for him.”

  “She’s in love with him.”

  He was surprised to hear her words spoken so definitely, but not without a trace of jealousy. Her eyes never left the couple at the table.

  “Yes, she is.”

  Hallie tore her gaze away and implored him visually for the truth. “Does he…is he in love with her?”

  For Jamie, he wanted to tell her yes, that Hallie should give up and go home. For himself, he wanted to tell her that Jamie wasn’t, and that she should try to win him back. He settled with the truth.

  “He would be,” he said, then was surprised to hear her finish his thoughts.

  “If I wasn’t here.”

  “Maybe. It’s not as if he’s in the wrong, entertaining the thought. Not after what you’ve put him through.”

  She flinched, then returned her gaze to Jamie. Jealousy was not something Miguel had ever seen in Hallie, but she controlled it well. In her dark blue eyes he saw an aching desire. It would benefit him if she and Jamie got back together. Maybe Renee would stop following him around like a puppy and look at Miguel as more than a shoulder to cry on. None of that would be worth it if Jamie got tromped on by Hallie again. Yes, he definitely had to get Hallie out of the picture. He could do the martyr thing.

  “Hallie, don’t you think it’s time Jamie had a chance at happiness?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Without you, without the past to haunt him. Renee’s a great gal, smart, sexy. You’ve got the past to overcome, she’s new territory. You haven’t a chance.”

  She turned to him, her eyes blazing. “You don’t know me, or my chances with my husband. I won’t have you shoving me out the door with a tally-ho. I know you love your brother, Miguel, and I understand what you’re doing. But there are things that go far beyond what you know, so leave it alone.”

  Whoa. He’d never seen her feistiness and determination aimed at saving her marriage. He also knew blood ran thicker than a gold wedding ring. “It’s too late, that’s all I’m telling you. Save yourself the hurt and humiliation and go back to California. You have no right to be here, and you know it.”

  She had been kneading the leaves of a nearby plant throughout their conversation. Her muscles tensed, and she twisted a branch at his final words. Instead of pulling the branch, she yanked the whole plant out of the ground. She handed it to him, roots, dirt and all, and stalked away.

  Hallie had paced the living room until six o’clock when Jamie called from the office. He had to cover a wedding reception for the sick catering manager, he’d said, and wouldn’t be home until late. She played several different scenarios of him and Renee dancing with the wedding party and doing honeymoon type things until eleven, when she thought she would explode.

  The Tropical Room wasn’t hard to find; all she had to do was follow the music. Twenty people still danced and partied, but she could find no sign of Jamie. The groom said he had left half an hour ago.

  Hallie went back home to that quiet house again. The masochistic images continued playing in her mind. The former Hallie may not have had the right to be possessive, but she was trying to hold the tattered shreds of her marriage together, and she didn’t need some hussy trying to steal him away right under her nose.

  Jealous insanity was only another pace of the room away when she settled into the bed with a book and tried to read. Her eyes kept drifting to the doorway every time she heard a faint noise. When she finally heard the front door open, her fears and anger returned full force—and seemed to be fully justified.

  Jamie’s hair was disheveled, his eyes bloodshot. He squinted in the soft light of the bedroom, staring at her with a wobbly head for a full minute before saying a word.

  “Hi, there. Waiting up for me?”

  The book went flying, and with slow reflexes he barely escaped a nasty knock from Dean Koontz. His confused expression made her even more furious.

  “Where have you been, James DiBarto?” She would have used his middle name, for the full effect, if she’d known it.

  He cocked his head back in surprise. “Whoa. Now you’re beginning to sound like my mother when I was twelve.” He squinted at her covered form under the sheets, her bare shoulders above them. “You certainly don’t look like my mother.” He sauntered toward the bathroom.

  He didn’t see it coming this time, and the pillow nailed him in the back of his head. Safer than a book. He turned around with an injured look. “What was that for?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  He wagged a finger at her. “Listen, young lady, I have been coming and going in this house for a year without any interrogation on your part.”

  She frowned, but the hurt inside kept her expression hard. “You left the Tropical two hours ago. I just want to know where you were until now. You’ve been drinking and you look like you’ve been screwing every floozy in the place… or maybe just one.”

  As she had been talking, he walked toward her, his face inscrutable. He fell across the bed, pinning her legs, and roared with laughter.

  She stared at him in disbelief. “What the hell is so funny?”

  “Shhh!” he mumbled between gales of laughter, pressing a finger over her lips. “‘Hill,’ not ‘hell.’”

  “What?”

  “We don’t cuss around here. When Miguel and I were kids, we used other words to get around the”—he raised his eyebrows—”real cuss words. So you see, you should have said, ‘What the hill is so funny?’”

  Her shoulders drooped, but he continued to laugh.

  “Jamie, go to hill.”

  That started another gale of laughter. With his arm, he rolled her back on the bed and leaned over her, smiling. The sweet smell of rum pervaded the small space between them.

  “So you really think I was out fugging all the women on the island, eh?”

  “Fugging? Oh, I see. Actually, there was only one I was really worried about.”

  He sort of half snorted and half laughed, then dropped his head down on her chest, which she only vaguely hoped was still covered. After a moment, he lifted his head and looked at her. He looked so much like a little boy, happy and silly. Silly drunk, that was.

  “You’re funny,” he stated.

  “I’m glad I’m so amusing.” Something inside her was glad. That’s what made her so mad that morning, her inability to make Jamie laugh the way Renee had. Hallie had done a better job, and she hadn’t even tried. Still, she couldn’t ignore the fact that he hadn’t answered her question yet. Or the way his weight heated her body.

  “You are amusing, Hallie. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

  “I’ve never seen me like this before either.”

  “I was with Miguel…” He rolled off her to lie on his back.

  She leaned up on her elbow, looking down at him. “Really?” The grin spread across her face.

  “Yeah, really. I didn’t know you cared.” He crossed his arms over his chest in an imitation of her earlier stance. “And I certainly didn’t expect to come home and find you all huffy. I’ll never forget the way you looked.”

  “I just hope you’ll only have this one incident to commit to memory. If this is what you went through with Ha—me before, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine going through this more than one time. Jamie? Are you listening to me?”

  She looked at his serene expression and realized he was asleep. Rather than try to shift him lengthwise, she put his pillow under his head, moved her pillow beside it, and curled up next to him. For the first time in what felt like forever, she fell asleep with a smile.

 
The next morning, Jamie stared out his office window at the sparkling water of the sea and the couples who walked along the beach holding hands. What he saw was Hallie with her arms crossed over her sheet-swathed chest demanding to know where he had been. He smiled, marveling at the turn in tables between them. If one thing had remained the same throughout her ordeal, it was his inability to figure her out.

  “Jamie?”

  Half expecting to see Hallie, he found Renee standing at the door. “Hey. Come in.”

  She strode across the colorful woven rugs thrown across the wood floors to perch on his desk a few inches away. He leaned back in his chair, to get a better look at her as well as put some distance between them. She was an attractive woman with her short brown hair blown away from her wide, round face. Her brown eyes were set far apart, and her lips were full and large, usually exposing her two front teeth.

  “Are you busy?”

  He shrugged. “Always busy, but it never gets done. What’s up?”

  “Do you remember that night a few months ago when I told you how I felt about you? I said you were too good for Hallie, that you deserved better. You told me you found me attractive, too.” She faltered.

  He wished he could make this conversation easier on her, but he didn’t know where she was headed.

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “We both agreed that an affair was out of the question, but that perhaps, if things didn’t work out with your marriage we could…give it a try.”

  He remembered that conversation being a little more general than that, but he waited for her point. He wondered if she was trying to tell him that she was interested in someone else. The thought didn’t bother him. She leaned down until her face was only an inch away.

  “Jamie, I love you. I want you. I know you said you didn’t feel the same way about me then, but I know you do. You’re just too damn noble to admit it. You can’t still love your wife, not after all she’s put you through. We’ve been good friends for a long time, and I think it’s natural to move that friendship into a relationship. As soon as a bungalow is free, why don’t you get her off your couch and let me move in?”

  She closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his. For a moment, he responded to the feel of her lips. A memory of Hallie’s goodbye kiss flashed into his mind.

  He moved back. “She’s not sleeping on the couch…”

  Renee straightened. “You’re not sleeping on the couch, I hope. You should…” Her momentary anger slipped away and left a hurt expression behind. “You’re sharing a bed?”

  He leaned back in his chair and pressed his fingers together. “She’s my wife.”

  “Don’t you understand that she doesn’t deserve that position?”

  “I’m not saying she deserved it or not. All I’m saying is that she is my wife, and I’ve got some things to figure out.”

  Renee leaned her hands on the desk in front of him. “Figure what out?” Her expression lightened. “You pity her, don’t you? Because of the stroke. She’s going to be the same person when her memory returns. Why should you feel obligated to take care of her? Her lover, Mick, should be the one by her side.”

  His mouth tightened. “Miguel talks too much.”

  She cocked her head. “Only because he knows how much I love you. And I do love you, Jamie DiBarto. I don’t intend to lose you to some pity case.”

  With that, she turned and left.

  He liked Renee, but he was far from being in love with her. She had built a dream from their friendly chats, a dream he wasn’t sure he could ever fulfill, even when Hallie did return to her old ways. Still, he might have fun trying when the time came. Until then, Hallie had confused the hill out of him, and he couldn’t do a thing until he figured that all out.

  It was three days before Jamie was able to spend an evening at home. Hallie had made him promise that morning that he would be home for dinner. When he’d asked if she wanted him to bring anything from the restaurant, she just smiled and said no. Since they didn’t have access to TV dinners, he couldn’t imagine what she had in mind. The woman couldn’t even make Jell-O set.

  When he opened the door, the aroma of fresh garlic, chicken and other spices greeted him. He crept around the corner to the kitchen. The view was splendid, with Hallie bent over searching in one of the lower cabinets for something. The denim sundress she wore clung nicely to her derriere, and her legs were tan and shapely. She stuck her finger in her mouth as she looked through another cabinet.

  Gone were all the sexy, slinky clothes she used to wear. She wore casual, cute outfits that fit her well, but not too tightly. Strangely enough, she looked sexier than ever. He dismissed the observation and stepped into the kitchen.

  “Can I help?”

  She jumped at the sound of his voice, then smiled. “Aw, I wanted to have dinner ready by the time you got home, but I forgot how long this takes to make.”

  He peered into a pot of boiling fettuccine, then tasted a bit of the creamy sauce in another pan. “What are you making?”

  “Chicken Carbonara.”

  This is not what he expected. Hallie’s cooking expertise stopped at grilled cheese sandwiches. She hated to cook and hardly ever did. This was an all-out affair, with breaded chunks of chicken sautéing on the griddle, crumbled bacon sitting on a plate, and not a cookbook in sight.

  “You actually made all this? By yourself?”

  She turned and spread her hands. “Doesn’t it look like it?” Bread crumbs clung to her long hair and beads of sweat dotted her forehead. She turned and looked in another cabinet, then made a triumphant sound. “Found it.” She pulled out a colander and put it in the sink.

  Hallie positively glowed, even covered with crumbs in a kitchen that looked like a culinary monsoon had swept through it. It was an image he wanted to preserve for later.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked with a smile.

  “I’ve never seen you cook before.”

  “Why does that not surprise me??” This she mumbled. She turned and dumped the pot of noodles into the colander. “Mom used to tell me what a great wife I’d make. ‘A woman today who actually likes to cook is a rarety,’ she’d say.”

  “Your mother said you’d make a great wife?”

  Hallie’s expression grew serious for a moment, then she looked away and continued to rinse the noodles. “Once. It was a long time ago.”

  They ate dinner civilly, like any normal married couple. Crazy thought. The radio picked up a reggae station from nearby Jamaica. She told him about the purple orchids she’d found in the deep, secluded part of the island, and about her morning swims in the sea.

  “There are these weeds that shrink when you touch them. Juicy said the natives use them to find their way back through the jungle. They know they’re retracing their steps when they see the shrunken weeds. Isn’t that neat?”

  Picturing Hallie looking at weeds was not an easy thing to do. He helped her clear the table.

  “Guess what I’ve got for dessert,” she said.

  “Flaming Alaska?” he guessed, and wouldn’t be surprised if she said yes.

  “No, silly. Mangos.” She opened the refrigerator and produced a bowl of four peeled, orange mangos.

  “I thought they were out of season.”

  “They are, but I spotted these babies way up near the top of a tree.”

  “So who’d you con to get them down for you?”

  “I got them myself. And what a view from the top of the tree! You should check it out. You can see the whole island.”

  His mouth dropped open. “You climbed a mango tree?”

  “I could see the air strip and the village of Contigua—”

  He put his hands out to halt her. “Let me get this straight. You.” He pointed to her. “Climbed to the top of a tree?”

  She nodded, looking exasperated by his disbelief. “Yes, I climbed to the top of a tree. Chicken Carbonara calls for something light afterward, and Ruby said you liked mangos. The k
itchen didn’t have any more, so when I spotted these, I climbed up to get them. Now will you listen about the view.”

  She continued telling him about the clear water and the school of dolphin twenty yards from the beach. He scratched his head and was at a total loss to picture his wife, the prissy, complaining Hallie, climbing a tree to get mangos for dessert because he liked them.

  He headed toward the door. “I need to take a walk…”

  “Want some company?” she asked with a bright smile.

  “No, thanks. I need to be alone.”

  Her smile faded. “Are you going to see Miguel?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Renee?”

  “No.”

  “Can you tell me why you’re leaving?”

  “No.”

  He stepped out into the garden-scented air and walked down to the beach to sort images from his present and past. Figuring out Hallie was like doing one of those damned two-sided puzzles.

  As she waded into the sea two mornings later, Hallie thought how silly it was, them swimming every morning and not together. He had rejected her invitation to swim with her and had not proffered the same invite to her.

  Since their special dinner, designed to bring them closer together, he had made a point to politely avoid her. When he was around, he watched her every move. She didn’t know which was more disconcerting.

  Her tired legs carried her to the shoreline, and she plopped down on the wet sand and let the waves wash over her feet. She was as tan as she used to be, and she loved her life on the island where she could explore to her heart’s content. The only thing missing from her life was her husband. He was fighting her…and winning.

  Renee was hanging around Jamie more and more, constantly carrying around some paper or another to show him as an excuse. It seemed as if every time Hallie saw him, that woman was walking right next to him. She dug her feet into the sand and kicked a huge chunk into an oncoming wave.

  “Nice kick,” a feminine voice remarked. Hallie looked up to see Renee standing there, as though her thoughts had summoned her. “Can I join you?”