Wonders Never Cease (23 page)

“I don't believe in angels—or the bogeyman.”

“Your daughter does.”

“My girlfriend's daughter is a loon. Bad genes, I suppose.”

“Then let me put it to you another way: You're foolin' with words. Folks are gonna read those words, and some folks are gonna believe 'em. Words are some of the most powerful things in the world, Mr. Kemp. Not a terrible thing's been done in this world that didn't start off with words. Words matter—a smart man like you should know that.”

“Skip the sermon,” Kemp said. “What is it you want?”

“I just came in here to fetch a bucket. How 'bout you?”

“I want you to keep your mouth shut.”

“And why should I do that?”

Kemp paused. “I can pay you. There's money in this—a lot of it. I stand to make . . . thousands on this deal, and I'm willing to give you a share.”

Emmet shook his head. “You make fun of my name, you speak to me with contempt, you treat me like I'm somethin' you'd scrape off your shoes—but this is the first time you really insulted me. You think I'm like you, and I'm not.”

“There are powerful people involved in this,” Kemp said. “Trust me, you don't want to cross them.”

“Now you're threatening me.”

“A word to the wise—that's all I'm saying.”

“Now that's funny,” Emmet said. “A word to the wise from a fool.”

“You don't believe me?”

“I believe you—I'm just not afraid of you.”

“Then I'll give you another reason to keep your mouth shut.”

“What's that?”

“Natalie. You like Natalie, don't you? I know she likes you. So does Leah—she talks about you all the time.”

Emmet paused. “What's Natalie got to do with this?”

“Nothing—and everything. We're both nurses; we work in the same ICU in the same hospital; we even work the same shift. I live with Natalie—we share everything. If you go public with this, do you really think anybody will believe she had nothing to do with it? It would mean her job. It would mean her career—no hospital would touch her after this. She'd end up doing home visitations for shut-ins.”

Emmet slowly cocked his head to one side. “Mr. Kemp, I believe I'm seein' you in a whole new light.”

“Glad you've seen the light,” Kemp said. “So—can I count on you?”

There was a long silence as Emmet considered.

“It was harmless,” Kemp assured him. “Just a little scam to pick up a few bucks on the side. So a washed-up movie star writes a book—so what? Books like this one come and go all the time—a year from now nobody will even remember what it said. Everybody profits; nobody loses. What's the harm?”

Another pause.

“C'mon—for Natalie. For Leah.”

Emmet reluctantly nodded. “There's just one thing I'd like to know. How did a fine woman like Natalie ever get hooked up with a good-for-nothin' like you?”

“Just lucky, I guess. So—we're okay?”

“We are definitely not okay—but I'll do it for Natalie's sake. I won't say anything, Mr. Kemp, but I won't lie for you either. That's a different thing entirely.”

“Fair enough. And don't forget, there'll be a few bucks in it for you. You can buy yourself a new mop.”

When Kemp reached for the doorknob Emmet said to him, “You know, you'd do well to take your own advice.”

Kemp looked back. “How's that?”

“I'd be careful if I were you.”

29

N
atalie heard the bedroom door open and looked up from the TV; a moment later Kemp came bounding into the living room like a wet retriever.

“Are you watching this?” He plopped down on the sofa beside her and pried the remote from her hands.

“Apparently I'm not. Please, help yourself.”

Kemp began to eagerly flip through the channels.

“There are two of us living here, Kemp. Don't you get enough golf and Sports Center on the weekends? I sit down to watch a few minutes of TV before I pick up Leah from school—”

“Would you shut up? I can't hear anything. What channel is she on?”

“Who?”

“Oprah.”

Natalie stared at him in disbelief—then took back the remote and punched in the number 7 for KABC. A commercial for auto insurance was airing.

Kemp checked his watch. “Shoot—it's after three. I might have missed part of it.”

“Part of what?”

“Watch—you're in for a surprise.”

When the commercial ended and the show returned, Oprah was seated beside a strangely familiar face—it was Olivia Hayden, propping up a book on her thigh titled
It's All
About You
.

“What a surprise,” Natalie said with a groan. “You know, if all you want to do is ogle your girlfriend, why don't you just go rent one of her—”

“Do you mind? ‘Talk show' means
they
talk.”

Kemp took the remote back and turned up the volume.

“
It's All About You
,” Oprah announced. “That's the title of the astonishing new book by my old friend Liv Hayden, and let me tell you all something: This is a book that could change everything.”

The audience erupted in applause.

“Liv, we've known each other for a long time—ever since I was filming
The Color Purple
and you were shooting
See
You in Your Dreams
.. So I'm going to ask you a hard question, because that's what friends do.” She reached over and took Hayden by the hand. “You were kept in a coma because of a possible injury to your brain. A brain injury, Liv—that could explain a lot. How do you know this angel was real?”

“Is this that angel thing?” Natalie asked. “I saw this in the paper.”

“Shut up!” Kemp leaned closer to the screen.

“I know there are doubters out there,” Hayden said confidently. “Some people think I made the whole thing up, but I could never have invented a message like this—it could only have come from a superhuman intelligence.”

“You got that right,” Kemp said with a smirk.

“Kemp—I'm trying to listen.”

“I'll tell you how I know it was real: The same way I know you're real—that you're flesh and blood and not just some figment of my imagination.” She held up Oprah's hand and shook it as if to demonstrate.

The audience applauded again.

“Did you ever actually touch the angel?” Oprah asked.

“No—I was afraid. But somehow I think he wanted me to.”

Kemp winked at the screen. “Right again.”

Natalie gave him an elbow. “Will you be quiet?
They
talk, remember?”

“Describe the scene for us—tell us all what you saw.”

Hayden reached into the air in front of her and began to make small sweeping gestures, as if she was painting a picture on a canvas that only she could see. “It's as if I was floating in a great darkness, when all of a sudden I saw a pinpoint of light. The light began to grow larger—closer—as if I was rushing through space toward a distant star. I finally arrived—who can say where—and all the darkness was suddenly gone. There was nothing but blinding white light all around me—light so bright that I could barely look into it. And in the middle of the light was a man—a man like no man I've ever seen before.”

“And you've seen some good ones,” Oprah said.

The audience laughed; so did Hayden.

“You bet I have—that's how I knew that this was no ordinary mortal.”

“What did the angel say to you? What were his very first words?”

Hayden shook her head. “You'd never believe me.”

“Try me.”

“Seriously—it's too ‘out there.'”

“Come on now, Liv. Most of us will never get a chance to meet a real angel. What did he say?”

“Well—he said . . .”

Kemp grinned. “Greetings, earthling!”

“ . . . he said, ‘Greetings, earthling!'”

Natalie looked at Kemp. “Hey—how did you know that?”

Kemp shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

Oprah looked at Hayden doubtfully. “You're pulling my leg. This angel had a sense of humor?”

“You need a sense of humor to survive in this world—I think that's what he was telling me.”

The audience applauded gratefully.

Oprah leaned closer to her guest. “Did you get the impression that the angel knew you—I mean, knew who you are?

What you do for a living?”

“Yes, I did. In fact—”

“What?”

“No, this is too weird.”

“Go ahead, say it.”

Kemp spoke first: “He said, ‘I've seen most of your pictures.'”

Hayden was just a beat behind him: “. . . he told me that he'd seen most of my pictures.”

The audience broke into laughter.

Oprah said, “I wonder if he watches my show. Did he say anything about that?”

Natalie grabbed the remote and switched off the TV.

“Hey! Turn that back on!”

“Kemp—what's going on?”

“At least record it so I can watch it later.”

Natalie aimed the remote at the DVR and pushed the red Record button, then stuffed the remote down between the seat cushions. “Now what's going on? I want to know.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Why the sudden interest in Oprah? You've never watched her show before—never.”

“It's Olivia Hayden—I heard she was going to be on, that's all. She's been in the news lately. She was my patient. What's the big deal?”

“This is a live show, Kemp—it's not a rerun. How come you seem to know what Olivia Hayden's going to say before she says it?”

“It seemed obvious to me. All you had to do was listen.”

“‘Greetings, earthling'—you call that obvious? I was listening, and I never would have thought of that.”

“Maybe I'm a better guesser than you are.”

“Stop treating me like an idiot. You've been meeting with her, haven't you?”

“What? That's ridiculous.”

“Is it? I tried to look the other way when you had your little emotional ‘fling' with her in the hospital. Don't deny it—all the nurses noticed it. You practically bit my head off when I interrupted one evening. I thought it was just a silly infatuation, but you've obviously been talking with her.”

“The woman's never said a single word to me—I swear it.”

“It's the only possible explanation and you know it. How else could you know what she's going to say next?”

“You might be surprised.”

“Are you cheating on me?”

“Hey, let's not get crazy here.”

“I want to know what's going on. I have a right to know.”

Kemp slowly broke into a grin. “Aw, why not? I've been dying to tell somebody anyway.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know that business deal I've been telling you about?
Well, you might say Liv Hayden is a part of it—a big part of it, in fact. It's like this . . .”

Fifteen minutes later Natalie found herself staring at Kemp in utter disbelief.

“Kemp—it isn't possible.”

“Brilliant, isn't it? Like the woman said—it could only have come from a superhuman intelligence.”

“What were you thinking? What you did was completely unethical—it was illegal! You violated a doctor's orders. You adjusted a patient's medication. Even if you have your MD, you don't have hospital privileges at UCLA—that's malpractice! What if somebody finds out about this? What if Liv Hayden finds out? She'll sue you—she could sue the whole hospital.”

“Calm down,” Kemp said. “Nobody's going to find out. How could they? There's nothing to find—no evidence of any kind. I backed off on her anesthesia a little, that's all. They were only keeping her sedated as a precaution—she was never in any danger. And all I did was talk to her. It was perfect.”

“It was
wrong
. Can't you see that? I'm a nurse, Kemp. I know that doesn't mean anything to you, but it still means something to me. Nurses help people—we serve people—we don't use them.”

“See, this is why I didn't tell you before,” Kemp said. “You have no imagination—no vision.”

“I have
morals
,” Natalie said, “something you apparently lack. Kemp, you can't go around putting ideas in other people's heads—it's just not right.”

“Why? People do it all the time—parents, teachers, politicians . . .”

“That's different. You pretended to be somebody you're not.”

“So what? Suppose a man walks up to you on the street and says, ‘You don't look so good—you should go to a hospital.' You'd ignore the guy—you might even think he was nuts. But suppose he was dressed like a doctor—then you might take him seriously. I just applied the same principle: A message gets more attention when it comes from an authority figure. I figured, who's got more authority than an angel?”

“You need to put a stop to this—right now, before it goes any further.”

“How am I supposed to do that—by admitting what I did? That's exactly what you're worried about: someone finding out.”

“Kemp—find a way to stop this before it's too late.”

“It's already too late, Natalie. It's a done deal. That's another reason I didn't tell you before—I knew you'd try to talk me out of it. Look at the TV. Liv Hayden is doing a week of live interviews on
Oprah
, right here in L.A. There's no stopping it now.”

“I don't want any part of this.”

“Are you sure about that? The book comes out on Thursday, and people will start flocking to Borders and Books-a-Million to shell out $24.99 for a shiny new hardcover. The book will sell millions of copies, and I get one-third of the publisher's take. That'll be
millions
, Natalie—enough to get that place in Santa Monica; enough to buy a new car every time one runs out of gas; enough to buy Leah all the MRIs she ever needs. Babe, this is what we've been waiting for.”