Authors: Barbara Bretton
Just Like Heaven (21 page)
He stared at the crowd of cars, minivans, SUVs, and bicycles parked along the street, in the driveway, and in one case on the front lawn. “Somebody must have told them.”
“I mean, I told them you were coming up from New Jersey but I didn’t tell them the bishop signed off on the contract. We just found that out, right?”
He gestured broadly at the crowd. “Somebody told them something, friend.”
“Well, I might have mentioned you’d be stopping by this afternoon . . .”
A fair number of his old congregation had gathered in the meeting room attached to the rectory to support his return to Greenwood. Faces he hadn’t seen since Suzanne’s memorial service beamed at him from the windows, the front steps, clustered on the lawn like daffodils.
He felt humbled by their loyalty, deeply grateful for their forgiveness, but mostly he was flat-out speechless by the waves of affection flowing his way.
“See that woman over there?” Maggy whispered into his ear. “The aging redhead with an overbite? That’s the one who tried to block your assignment.”
He turned and looked toward the door. “Hannah Owens?”
“Shh. The witch can probably read lips. She and her buddies were trying to promote her cousin’s son, a child fresh out of seminary. Just because he bought a house in that new development—”
“I was fresh out of seminary when I first came here,” he reminded her.
“That was different.”
“And I had a lot of friends and family supporting my assignment.”
“Oh, be quiet,” Maggy snapped, glaring at him. “You sound like you wish Billy Owens
had
gotten the job.”
had
gotten the job.”
So now the competition had a name. “Bishop Clennon had good things to say about Billy Owens.” Even if the bishop hadn’t mentioned him by name.
“Oh, I guess he’s all right,” Maggy said with a dismissive wave of her hand, “but he isn’t you.”
So it went even deeper than he had realized. This Owens clearly had something going for him if even Maggy softened so quickly.
“I recognize why I might not be somebody’s first choice.”
She rolled her eyes. “Where’s the righteous indignation? You’re being entirely too reasonable for me.”
She managed to temper her irritation long enough to introduce him to her Sam, who seemed to be a genuinely nice guy. He was happy for them, hopeful for their future, and maybe just the slightest bit relieved that he had been so easy to replace.
He left them whispering together and wandered over to admire the buffet. With just a few hours’ notice the Women’s Guild had put together mountains of chilled shrimp, platters of blanched vegetables, buffalo wings drenched in hot sauce, quesadillas topped with melted cheddar, pitchers of lemonade and iced tea, and chocolate desserts usually reserved for saints in heaven. He was suitably wowed.
The men of the congregation hadn’t been idle either. The rectory windows had been replaced, a new air-conditioning system installed, fresh paint and wallpaper and sparkling-clean rugs on polished wooden floors. They had done all they could to transform the home he had shared with Suzanne into neutral territory, a place where a man could start over again.
He didn’t have the heart to tell them that he saw her everywhere he looked. She stood by the kitchen window, gazing out across the vegetable garden. She waited at the top of the stairs, laughing as he locked the doors for the night. “Nothing bad ever happens in Greenwood,” she said as she took his hand. “Don’t you know that?”
Vangie Paulos sneaked up and enveloped him in a bear hug. “This is just like old times,” she said, beaming up at him. “You don’t know how long we’ve been praying for this day.”
“Don’t get too excited, Vangie.” Tom Meyerson popped up beside them, faded blue eyes twinkling. “He’s only visiting.”
“I know, I know, but it will be the end of May before you know it and everything will be back the way it should be.”
“You’re looking great, Vangie,” he said. “Retirement agrees with you.”
“If you think I’m looking good, you should see my grandbaby Edie. She’s twenty-two now and a teacher, has her own pension plan and everything. I’ll have you to dinner one night. You can see for yourself.”
He gave her a noncommittal smile and tried to find himself a neutral corner, meaning one without a single woman or matchmaking mother lurking behind a potted palm.
Everywhere he turned there was a familiar face, most of them friendly and welcoming; a few seemed wary and fearful that the priest in whom they were bestowing their faith would fail them the way he had in the past.
But as he looked at them an odd thought worked its way to the surface. What if they felt they owed him this chance? Loyalty worked both ways. They were good people with good hearts and sometimes good people made choices that weren’t always in their best interest.
Maybe Billy Owens
was
the better choice for them. Maybe the young priest and his family were exactly what Greenwood needed, but they felt they owed Mark this chance to put things right.
was
the better choice for them. Maybe the young priest and his family were exactly what Greenwood needed, but they felt they owed Mark this chance to put things right.
Still, there was no point dwelling on it. The decision didn’t belong to him; it belonged to Bishop Clennon and he had to trust that the bishop’s reasons were sound.
The only thing required of him was that he give them the next year of his life with a full heart. With a little luck, the future would somehow take care of itself.
Fifteen
French Kiss—Friday morning“Go home already,” Sonia said. “You’re making us crazy.”
“Amen!” Liz pushed her glasses back up her nose. “Don’t you have to primp for your new boyfriend or something?”
Kate felt herself blush deep red. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“He’s definitely an ‘or something,’ ” Sonia said, “otherwise you need to see the doctor again for this nervous condition.”
“I’ve been cooped up for more than a week,” she reminded them. “I’m looking forward to walking on the beach and getting some sunshine.”
Sonia and Liz exchanged knowing glances.
“Oh, knock that off,” Kate grumbled. “You act like you’ve never seen me go out with a man before.”
“I don’t think we have,” Sonia said.
“I’m sure we haven’t,” Liz said.
“Gary Halston.”
“Gimme a break,” said Sonia.
“Ralph Mahoney.”
“Total loser,” said Liz.
“Bernie from the bank.”
“Gay,” said Sonia.
“Lucas the importer from Napa.”
“We have to give you that one,” Liz conceded. “He was pretty hot.”
Not to mention boring and self-absorbed. Was it any wonder she preferred her own company on Saturday nights? The last few years it had been HBO On Demand and a bowl of popcorn, and not once had she felt like she was missing out on anything.
“I went out with Paul just the other night.”
“Paul Grantham doesn’t count,” Sonia said. “He’s just a friend.”
She opened her mouth to say,
That’s what you think,
but managed to close it in the nick of time.
That’s what you think,
but managed to close it in the nick of time.
“What were you about to say?” Sonia asked. “Is there something going on with Paul?” Small towns never lost track of their favorite sons, no matter how far they roamed.
“Nothing’s going on.”
“I saw the way he looked at you when you got out of his car the other day. Something’s changed.”
“He’s worried about me,” she explained. “Same as you are.”
“I think he’s in love with you,” Liz said. “I could hear it in his voice when he called yesterday.”
“His ex-wife just got remarried and his best friend had a heart attack. You’d sound strange too.”
“Poor sap,” Sonia said. “He doesn’t stand a chance with Father McDreamy in the picture.”
Father McDreamy?
“Not you too,” Kate said with a loud groan. “Did Maeve put you up to that?”
“Not you too,” Kate said with a loud groan. “Did Maeve put you up to that?”
“Have you taken a good look at that man?” Liz demanded. “What else would you call him?”
“How do you know what he looks like? You’ve never met him.”
Sonia and Liz exchanged glances.
“What?” Kate demanded. “You both look guilty as hell.”
Sonia jerked a thumb toward the computer at the far end of the room. “Google. How else do people find out anything?”
“I Googled him and came up empty.” Oh no. She hadn’t wanted to admit that.
Sonia and Liz exchanged a longer, more pointed look and Kate tossed an empty paper cup in their direction.
“Google Images,” Liz said. “There were twelve of them.”
“Thirteen,” Sonia corrected her, “if you count the high school yearbook photo. Anybody could find them.”
She darted toward the computer and they all but tackled her.
“You have a ten o’clock with Grace for a blowout,” Sonia scolded. “Quite frankly, Kate, I don’t think you can afford to miss it.”
“Besides,” Liz added, “what do you need pictures for when you’re going to spend the day with the real thing?”
Good question, but not one she wanted to answer.
They hadn’t spoken in two days. They hadn’t seen each other in three. Was it possible that all of that wonderful magic, that sizzle and spark, had run its course and they would find themselves alone on the beach at Spring Lake with absolutely nothing to say and nothing to do except wonder what on earth they were doing there in the first place?
Not that she was nervous or anything.
Pinecrest Village“Look at you, Father Mark!” Charlotte’s eyes brightened when he walked into her hospital room. “Pretty snazzy!”
“No collar today?” One of the nurses looked up from the computer terminal where she was entering data. “You make a good civilian.”
He had been fending off good-natured teasing since the guard ushered him onto the property.
“Jeans and a sweater,” he said. “What’s the big deal?”
“You tell him,” Charlotte said to the pretty nurse. “You’re younger. He’ll believe you.”
The nurse laughed and continued her work.
“You’re looking well today,” he said, leaning over to kiss Charlotte’s whisper-soft cheek. “Whatever they’re doing for you here, it’s working.”
She patted his cheek with a be-ringed hand. “The bishop signed the contract?”
He nodded and sat down in the chair next to her bed. “He signed. It’s all set for the end of May.”
“I knew he would.”
“I didn’t.”
“I’ll admit to harboring some selfish feelings, Father. I hate to see you leave us. You’ve become very important to many people. You’ll be difficult to replace.”
“We can all be replaced, Charlotte.”
“God doesn’t work that way,” Charlotte said. “You’re meant to go back up there and get—what is that word they use these days?”
“Closure,” he said.
“That’s it.” Charlotte beamed. “You need closure and that’s the only way you’ll get it.”
As always, she saw right through him to the heart of the matter.
“I’m not as happy about it as I thought I’d be.” He told her about the trip, the impromptu party at the rectory. “It doesn’t feel like home anymore.”
“It hasn’t been your home for a long time. That town must be filled with ghosts.”
“You’re a wise woman, Charlotte. You should be running therapy sessions.”
She studied his outfit with a critical eye. “That blue sweater brings out your eyes. She’ll like it.”
He tried to play dumb but Charlotte was having none of it.
“You’re seeing that red-haired woman today, aren’t you?”
“Do you mean Kate?”
“I’m an old woman. Don’t expect me to remember names. But you know exactly who I’m talking about, Father.”
“You got me.”
Busted by a nonagenarian.
“We’re driving down to Spring Lake for lunch.”
Busted by a nonagenarian.
“We’re driving down to Spring Lake for lunch.”
“Spring Lake!” Her sigh was young and positively girlish. “A perfect spot for romance.”
“We’re just friends, Charlotte.”
He hadn’t spoken to Kate in two days. They hadn’t seen each other in three. Trying to understand the chemical attraction between a man and a woman was like trying to catch lightning in a bottle.
Then again, maybe it wasn’t like lightning at all. Maybe it was more like a bad cold. No matter what you did or didn’t do, the cold ran its course in seven days and you forgot it ever happened until the next cold came along.
Just because he couldn’t get her out of his mind didn’t mean she had spent more than twenty seconds thinking about him. She might have opened her eyes this morning and wondered why she had said yes to an afternoon on the beach with a homeward-bound priest from New Hampshire who didn’t know his ass from his elbow when it came to romance.
“You’re not a Roman Catholic,” Charlotte reminded him. “You’re allowed to go courting.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” he warned her. “This isn’t going to go anywhere.”
“Not with that attitude it isn’t,” she assured him. “Life is short, young man. We aren’t here forever. Why are you wasting your God-given time?”
He didn’t know a clergyman or -woman on the planet who could have said it any better than Charlotte Petruzzo.
The Hairport“The usual, Kate?” Grace drew the wide-toothed comb through Kate’s wet hair. “Or maybe a French braid would be nice. Something a little different.”
Kate looked at her reflection in the mirror and didn’t recognize the woman looking back. She looked younger, happier, filled with hope.
“Loose,” she said, shaking her head. “Long and loose.”
“Say hallelujah!” Grace tossed the comb in the air and caught it on the way down. “It’s only taken three years and a hospital stay to make the woman see reason.”
The banter was good-natured and she let it fly over, under, and around her while Grace wielded the big round brush and the alarmingly phallic-looking blow-dryer.
“So what time does he pick you up?” Grace rubbed a tiny bit of shine serum on her palms then slid her fingers through Kate’s amazingly long and terrific-looking hair.
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