Just Like Heaven
Page 14
“I noticed.”
“It’s not easy,” Maeve said, “not after seeing the way you two kissed out there by his car.”
“You spied on me?”
“It isn’t often I get to watch sexual chemistry turn into a budding romance right before my eyes. I think of it as research.”
“Well, don’t get your hopes up. He’ll be moving back to New Hampshire at the end of May.”
Maeve considered her words for a moment. “A lot can happen in six weeks. Plans can change. He might decide to stay. You might decide to go. You never know how it will all play out.”
“Yes, we do,” Kate said. She could hear the faint glimmer of her old self behind the words. “Whatever this is, it comes with an expiration date.”
“Don’t you mean safety net?”
“Nothing wrong with knowing your limitations, right?”
Her mother leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “And there’s nothing wrong with stretching your wings.”
Maeve went back downstairs to make some phone calls. Kate stared up at the ceiling a while longer, then propped herself against the pillows and switched on her laptop.
TO: kate@frenchkiss.biz
FROM: gwynnbann@njshorefun.net
SUBJECT: this’n’that
Weren’t Andrew’s flowers beautiful? He picked out every single one himself. His e-mail is bigfish@threemilelimit.biz in case you want to drop him a note or something. I kind of thought you’d have done it by now. BTW I forgot to give you my new address. We’re moving my stuff over to Andrew’s tomorrow but I’ll keep checking the old place for mail. Anyway, here it is:
Gwynn Bannister
c/o Three Mile Limit Fishing and Whale Watches
23 Dockside Plaza
Paradise Point, NJ (I can’t remember the zip)
My cell #’s the same and I gave Gran Andrew’s number.
How are you feeling? Gran said you have a dr’s appt tomorrow. I’ll say a prayer for you at morning mass.
xoxoxoxo gwynnie
Where were her glasses when she needed them? Kate leaned closer to the screen of her laptop and peered at the string of words as if she were trying to decipher the Rosetta Stone. There it was again. She hadn’t imagined it. “I’ll say a prayer for you at morning mass.” Since when? Was Andrew a Roman Catholic?
And wait a second. What was that about a doctor’s appointment? She didn’t have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, did she? She clicked over to her organizer and couldn’t find anything for Wednesday. She got up and walked to the top of the stairs and hollered to Maeve, who hollered back that yes, she did have an eleven o’clock with Dr. Lombardi and it was a must-keep appointment.
“Damn,” she whispered. Now she would have to cancel her plans with Mark. She was supposed to be incorporating mild physical exercise into her daily routine and he had suggested a trip to Spring Lake and a walk on the beach. The weather was supposed to be every bit as perfect as it had been today, and the thought of strolling along the water’s edge hand-in-hand with him was enough to elevate her heart rate without her moving a muscle.
Maybe they could postpone it until later in the day. She clicked over to her instant-messaging program.
KATEFRENCH: Are you online, Mark?
KATEFRENCH: Mark? Are you there?
FATHERMARK: I thought you’d be asleep by now.
KATEFRENCH: It’s not even ten o’clock yet!
FATHERMARK: So you’re a night owl?
KATEFRENCH: Given the chance. You?
FATHERMARK: Day person. I’m catching up on msgs.
KATEFRENCH: Guess there’s not a big demand for
ten p.m. masses and midnight church buffets!
FATHERMARK: I was just about to e-mail you. Something’s
come up and I have to cancel tomorrow.
No fair crying, Kate. You were about to cancel on him!
FATHERMARK: Kate? Are you still there?
FATHERMARK: Kate?
KATEFRENCH: I’m here. I was about to tell you that I
had to cancel tomorrow.
KATEFRENCH: I forgot my appointment with Dr. Lombardi.
KATEFRENCH: Thursday’s okay though.
FATHERMARK: Thursday? I’m not sure I’ll be back in
time.
Back in time? What was he talking about?
KATEFRENCH: No problem. I understand. Things happen.
Actually she didn’t understand. Not even a little bit. Three hours ago they had been wrapped in each other’s arms kissing as if they were on the Titanic and they had run out of lifeboats. Who needed a six-week shelf life when the man in question couldn’t make it six hours without looking for an escape hatch.
If this was the flip side of all the wildly romantic feelings she’d been dealing with the last few days, thanks but no thanks. Life was a lot less complicated without them.
She waited for him to type in a series of lame excuses but the cursor just sat there flickering at her.
Where was he? How dare he drop a bomb in her lap and disappear.
KATEFRENCH: Mark?
KATEFRENCH: Mark, are you there?
KATEFRENCH: My cell’s ringing. Gotta go.
“Hello, Kate.”
Who would have thought clergy could be so sneaky. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. “Who is this?”
“It’s Mark. I think this is too important for IM.”
Oh great. This didn’t bode well. If he was having second thoughts, she would just as soon he had them online than on the phone. She could do without a fake apology meant to soothe his conscience.
“You don’t understand.” He had a great phone voice, a little angry, a whole lot sexy. “I—”
“You’ve had a change of plans. You already told me that.”
“You had a change of plans too.”
“I have a doctor’s appointment. I’m not trying to back out.”
“I’m flying up to New Hampshire in the morning,” he said in what she assumed was his pulpit voice, direct and commanding. “We’ve run into problems and I have to plead my case to the bishop. It was my suggestion. I should have thought about it before we made plans.”
“Problems?”
“He isn’t sure how he feels about handing over a congregation to a recovering alcoholic.”
“Shouldn’t he have had the second thoughts before they sent you a contract to sign?”
“That’s my thinking too.” He explained that the bishop had made his decision based on his earlier track record and the enthusiastic support of his congregation.
“So you might not get the position after all?”
“It better not come to that,” he said, trying to laugh. “I sold my house.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Fly up to New Hampshire, like I said, and meet with Bishop Clennon. The rest is up to him.”
“I hope it works out.”
“So do I. The house is sold and I’m not looking forward to sleeping in my car.”
“I’ve seen the car,” she said, doing her part to lighten the gloomy mood. “I wouldn’t look forward to it either.”
“What time is your doctor’s appointment tomorrow?”
“Eleven.”
“I’ll say a prayer for you.”
“When is your appointment with the bishop?”
“Two p.m.”
“I’ll hold a good thought.”
In the blink of an eye their brand-new, six-week-expiration-date romance was already in danger of morphing into something messier and more open-ended, a little bit closer to real life.
Which was something she absolutely positively didn’t want any part of.
Thirteen
“Yo, Father.” The security agent motioned toward Mark. “Step aside, please, for further attention.”
They wanded him, ran him through the magnetometer two more times, and were considering a body cavity search when he was finally waved through just in time to make his plane.
“He’s not doing too well,” the nurse said. “I know a quick visit would make all the difference.”
He hadn’t chosen this vocation so he could turn away from the people who needed him most.
He made it to Newark Liberty with little time to spare. Thanks to that holdup at the security checkpoint he was the last passenger to board.
“Looks like God’s on your side,” the flight attendant said as she waved him to the last available seat in coach. “We were just about to close up shop here.”
The flight was uneventful. It landed on time at Logan, where he changed planes, boarding a puddle-jumper that would take him into Greenwood, where Maggy Boyd would be waiting for him in the parking lot.
He checked his watch after takeoff. Eleven-twenty. Kate was probably sitting in a drafty examination room, wired up to an EKG, waiting for her doctor to give her the requisite eleven minutes of expert attention. He conjured up her smile, her beautiful hazel eyes, her laughter, and asked God to bless her with good health and joy.
Their last conversation still had him off balance. She hadn’t been very happy when he told her he had to cancel their Spring Lake plans, but that was nothing compared to how she sounded when he told her why. She hadn’t been kidding when she said she was fine with the six-week limit on their romance. He wouldn’t have minded a shade less enthusiasm.
Maggy was waiting for him in the parking lot as promised. She was wearing a bright red sweater he could see from across the airfield. She waved wildly when she spotted him, and he felt the usual combination of happiness and guilt.
“Wow!” she said as he approached. “You look great.”
“And you look even better,” he said, and she did. There was a glow about Maggy that hadn’t been there the last time he saw her. “Did you change your hair or something?”
Her smile was full of secrets. “Or something.”
He tossed his briefcase into the backseat of her Jeep, then climbed in next to her. “You didn’t have to play chauffeur, Mag. I could’ve rented a car for the day.”
She shrugged off his thanks. “This’ll give us a chance to catch up.”
Catch up? What was there to catch up on? They had talked or e-mailed every day for the last two months of negotiations. He found it hard to believe there was anything left to be said.
“You’re meeting the bishop at two,” she said as they entered the highway north. “That probably won’t last more than an hour. I figured we could have dinner in town with the vestry and a few friends. They want to show their support.”
He had held out the hope that he’d be able to make the return flight that night, but that wasn’t going to happen.
“What do you think my odds are with Clennon?” He and Maggy had always been able to get straight to the heart of things.
“Fifty-fifty,” she said bluntly, glaring at a driver passing on the right. “He’s been listening to horror stories from other parishes. That’s why this meeting is a good thing. He didn’t know you—” She stopped and shook her head. “You know.”
“Before Suzanne died.”
She met his eyes for a moment, then looked back at the road. “When times were good.”
“Same thing, Mags.”
“I guess it is.” She brightened. “I’ve gotta tell you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so good. Have you started running or something?”
“Roofing,” he said, laughing at the look on her face. “My next-door neighbor’s a roofer and when he heard I did roofs in seminary, he hired me on as a part-timer. It’s better than pumping iron in a gym.”
“I’ll have to look into it.” She gestured toward her posterior. “Damn computers. All I do is sit.”
“Whatever you’re doing, Mags, it works.”
She took a deep breath and he braced himself for bad news. “I met someone.”
He wasn’t sure he’d heard right. He swiveled toward her. “What?”
“He took over Harry’s veterinary practice just before Thanksgiving. I think you met him.”
“The tall skinny guy with glasses?”
“I prefer to think of him as lanky and intellectual, but yeah. That’s Sam.”
“And you’re seeing this Sam guy?”
“Actually we’re engaged.” She flashed him her bare left ring finger. “No ring. We’re putting the money toward a down payment on a house.” She looked at him again and laughed. “Well, say something, you fool. This is big news.”
He knew all the right things to say, but he had trouble saying them in the right order. This was exactly what he had prayed for, but it didn’t feel the way he had thought it would.
“I finally woke up,” she said as she exited the parkway and headed east toward Greenwood. “I know you knew how I felt about you and I spent a lot of years trying to convince myself that kindness and love were the same thing. You can breathe a big sigh of relief now, my friend.”
“Sam’s a lucky guy.”
“We’re both lucky,” she said. “I’m thirty-eight years old, Mark, and I have to tell you I didn’t think it was ever going to happen for me.”
“I hope I never led you to think that—”
“Oh no!” She sounded horrified. “You didn’t lead me on, if that’s what you’re thinking. I knew Suzanne was the love of your life and I knew you saw me only as a friend but—” She shrugged. “What can I tell you? Love doesn’t always make sense. Sometimes you have to beat it with a stick before you can make it do what you want.”
Sometimes the best thing a man could do was keep his mouth shut and just listen.
“You’re a model patient,” Dr. Lombardi said, after reading the results of her echo and blood work. “Textbook case.”
“Can I have another tissue, please?”
He slid the box across his desk toward her and smiled.
“You were right about the emotions,” she said, sniffling loudly. “I’m crying at trash bag commercials.”
“It’s not uncommon. I promise you it’ll pass.”
“And I seem to be forming . . . attachments to people very easily.”
“Your emotional responses are heightened right now. It’s to be expected.”
“The thing is, I think I like it.”
“It won’t last,” he warned her. “It’s all part of the healing process, Kate. Don’t go making any major decisions the next few weeks. No sense making life any more complicated than it needs to be.”
He was a man of science. What did he know about the world of emotions?
She changed the subject. “You want me to walk at least an hour a day. What if I walked to my antique shop and back every morning? It would be a good start.”
“And I suppose you’d like to stop in and make sure your employees are keeping things running smoothly.”
“What a great idea!” she said, laughing. “I promise I won’t stay more than an hour.” Maybe two, but he didn’t have to know that.
“One hour.”
“But—”
“We’re not negotiating terms, Kate. One hour in the shop and that’s all. I want you to take it slow for two more weeks. No driving yet. We’ll cut down the visiting nurse to twice a week.” He consulted the list in front of him. “We’ll schedule a stress test for the end of the month and then you’ll be able to resume a normal sex life.”
A normal sex life? She almost laughed. It had been so long since she had any sex life at all, normal or otherwise, that the memory was lost in the dim recesses of her personal history.
Her passionate afternoon in Mark’s arms was the most exciting thing to happen to her in longer than she would admit to anyone.
Maeve was waiting for her in the hospital coffee shop. She
looked up from her laptop at the sound of Kate’s heels clicking across the tiled floor.
“I don’t know why you didn’t let me come with you,” her mother said as she saved her work and shut down. “A patient should always have her advocate with her to take notes and ask things the patient might forget.”
“A geriatric patient maybe,” Kate said. “There’s nothing wrong with my memory.”
“It’s a known fact that patients tend to hear what they want to hear. Pertinent information often slips between the cracks.”
She raised her hands palms out in surrender. “Mom, please! I’m fine. Lombardi says I’m a textbook case. Everything’s progressing right on schedule.”
“Did he adjust the Lipitor? What about the Procardia? Any dietary changes we need to incorporate? You’re not exercising enough. You really should get out there every day.”
“If you don’t knock it off, I’m going to order bacon and eggs and English muffins drenched in butter.”
Maeve pretended to shudder. “I’m going in with you next time, Kate. Somebody needs to know exactly what’s going on.”
“When did you become this maternal?” Kate asked as they walked across the courtyard to the parking garage. “I don’t remember all this fussing over me when I was a kid.”
“You wouldn’t allow it,” Maeve said, as she pulled her car keys from the pocket of her hand-knit sweater. “Even as a baby, you pushed me away whenever I fussed over you too much. You’ve always needed your space and you taught me to respect that.”
“I was a baby,” she said. “I can’t believe my likes and dislikes were that well developed.”
Maeve laughed as she unlocked the car doors with a beep from her keypad. “I remember sitting in the pediatrician’s office, sobbing my eyes out because I couldn’t seem to figure out what would make you happy on any given day.”
“Gwynnie was a breeze,” Kate said, smiling at the memory. “She loved everything and everybody.”
“I always said Gwynnie took after me.”