Kitabı oku: «Almost Heaven»

Chapter One

MJ Stratton hoisted the strap of her camera bag higher over her shoulder and wearily tackled the last flight of stairs to her fourth-floor apartment.

“First thing when I become rich and famous,” she muttered with what little breath she had left, “I’m renting in a building with an elevator.”

Unlocking her door, she consoled herself with the fact that at least her apartment had a comfortable bed, one she would hit as soon as she dumped her equipment. The wedding reception at the posh Manhattan hotel had lasted past 1:00 a.m., and the bride’s mother had insisted that MJ snap candid shots until the final guest departed.

After entering the apartment, she secured the door behind her and flicked on the lights. With a sigh of relief, she slid her bulky camera bag into the closet and tossed her coat and hat on top of it. Kicking off her shoes and tugging off her blouse, she headed for the bedroom.

The wedding had been a royal pain. The bride had refused to be photographed from any angle except her left side, and the bride’s mother had followed MJ like a Velcro shadow, attempting to dictate every picture’s composition. Fortunately, MJ reassured herself, the hefty fee from the annoying assignment would pay her bills until she lined up more work.

If all else failed, the job at the gallery was still open. Maybe she should just take it. She’d engaged in this argument with herself before and, as always, ended up admitting she’d have more money with a steady job but even less time for her own art. She’d arrived in New York six years ago expecting to make a big splash with her photographs, but so far she had yet to produce a ripple.

Weariness consumed her. After pulling on the oversize T-shirt she used as a nightgown, she crawled between the covers and switched off the lamp. She would have dropped instantly to sleep, except for the insistent flashing of a small red light, indicating a message on the answering machine on her bedside table. She turned onto her other side and pulled the pillow over her head to block the annoying blinking. The message could wait until morning.

It is already morning, she thought with an exhausted sigh, but no point in listening to the message now. Whoever had left it had probably long since gone to bed.

MJ closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. The waiting message stirred her curiosity. What if it was her big break, a call from a gallery that had seen her work and wanted to exhibit her photographs? Or an offer for another job, photographing a Bar Mitzvah or a lavish children’s party with income that would keep her solvent into next month? Unable to sleep without knowing, she rolled over, flipped on the light and pressed Play.

“Hello, Merrilee June.” The soft, cultured drawl of her grandmother filled the room, but a sense of urgency tinged its usual calm. “We have a family emergency and I need you at home right away. I’ve reserved you a seat on the 7:00 a.m. flight out of JFK into Greenville. See you soon.”

“End of message,” the machine announced.

Heart pounding, MJ bolted upright in bed. “That’s it?” she yelled at the machine. “You aren’t going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Adrenaline surged through her veins. Sleep was impossible with a dozen dire possibilities flitting through her mind. She grabbed the phone and dialed her grandmother’s number. After waiting more than twelve rings, she had no answer. Her nana, Sally Mae McDonough, apparently still persisted in her lifelong habit of unplugging her phone when she went to bed.

“If it’s bad news, I’d rather hear it in the morning,” Nana had always insisted. “And if it’s urgent, the police will come to the house and wake me.”

Bad news?

MJ’s heart raced. Had Nana, sticking to her own philosophy, decided to spare MJ the unhappy details until daylight?

Lacking her grandmother’s stoicism, MJ dialed her parents’ home. She wanted to hear their voices to assure herself that Jim and Cat Stratton were all right. After four rings, her mother’s voice mail kicked in. MJ tried three times with the same results.

At each unanswered call, her panic grew. With trembling fingers, she punched in the number of her father’s veterinary clinic. Again she reached only voice mail with a message to call Dr. Grant Nathan, her father’s partner, in case of an emergency.

Desperate to discover what crisis had precipitated her grandmother’s cryptic message, MJ tried Information.

“What city?” the computerized voice asked.

“Pleasant Valley, South Carolina.”

“What listing?”

“The Pleasant Valley Police Department.”

The artificial voice rattled off a number. MJ scribbled it hastily, then punched it in.

“Police Department,” a familiar female voice answered. “Officer Sawyer speaking.”

“Brynn! Thank God, I’m actually talking to a live person,” MJ said.

“Merrilee? Are you in town?” her old high school friend asked.

MJ pictured Brynn, short red curls, intense, dark blue eyes, her slender but curvy figure doing things for a police uniform no male body ever could. Guys in Pleasant Valley had been known to break speed limits just for an encounter with the beautiful Officer Sawyer. Not that it ever did them any good. Brynn was married to her job.

“I’m in New York,” MJ explained. “I had a message from Nana about a family emergency, but she didn’t say what it is. I’m frantic and can’t reach anyone. Do you know if my folks are okay?”

A dead silence on the other end of the line intensified MJ’s fears. “Brynn? Are you still there?”

“Your folks are fine, as far as I’m aware,” Brynn answered in a tone that indicated she knew more than she was telling. “I saw your dad and grandmother earlier tonight before I came to work.”

“And my mom?”

“She’s taking classes at the university in Asheville. Sometimes she stays over if she’s working late in the library.”

MJ wasn’t surprised that Brynn knew her mother’s schedule. In the small town of Pleasant Valley, everyone knew everybody else’s business, one of the many reasons MJ had moved away immediately after her graduation from college.

A chilling thought struck her. “What if there’s been an accident?”

“I would have heard about a traffic accident through our dispatcher,” Brynn assured her. “Look, if it makes you feel better, I can call the local hospitals and check to see if either of your parents or your grandmother has been admitted.”

“Would you?” MJ remembered what six years in the big city had caused her to forget. Brynn had always bent over backward to help people. Her willingness to be of assistance was one of many factors that made her a good cop. And a terrific friend.

“Give me your number,” Brynn said, “and I’ll call you back as soon as I’ve checked.”

MJ rattled off her number, thanked her old friend and hung up. Sleep was impossible now, so she might as well pack. She’d have to leave for the airport soon anyway.

With cold dread weighting her heart, she tossed clothes into her suitcase. She was zipping the lid when the phone rang.

“It’s Brynn,” her friend said when MJ answered. “I checked the local hospitals. No admissions for any of your folks.”

“Thanks, Brynn. I owe you.”

MJ replaced the receiver in its cradle. Brynn’s news gave her little reassurance. If a member of MJ’s family had suffered an illness or injury serious enough to require a trauma unit, they’d have been transported to the Greenville hospital. Or her mother could be hospitalized in Asheville.

MJ tugged on the clothes she’d removed earlier and called a cab. Anxiety overrode her anger toward Nana for leaving such a cryptic message. In just a few hours MJ would be in Pleasant Valley again. For the first time since she had left after college, she was actually looking forward to returning to the boring, sleepy little town, if only to settle her fears.

EXHAUSTION temporarily overcame her foreboding. The flight attendant’s voice, announcing their imminent arrival in Greenville, awoke MJ. With consciousness, her anxiety returned in a rush.

As soon as the plane taxied to a stop, MJ grabbed her camera bag from the overhead compartment and headed for the exit. Within minutes she was striding across the concourse toward the baggage carousels.

Suddenly strong hands grasped her shoulders from behind and swung her around.

“Merrilee June. Long time, no see.” The rich, deep voice initiated a cascade of memories, all pleasurable; ones she’d worked hard to forget.

She glanced up at Grant Nathan, who’d intercepted her. If bad luck came in bundles, here was walking proof. For six years she’d managed to avoid him, had worked hard to push him from her mind. Now she tried to stop the corresponding flutter of her heart. She might as well have attempted to stop its beating.

If anything, the vet was even more attractive than she’d remembered, exuding enough self-confidence and masculinity to make any woman’s heart stutter. She’d forgotten how tall he was, well over six feet, and his practice as a country vet, tramping through fields, lifting small animals and maneuvering cows and horses for treatment, had given him a physique few personal trainers could replicate. In spite of her efforts not to, she remembered too well how many times she’d nestled her head against those broad shoulders and how comforting the embrace of his strong arms had been.

Six years had added a maturity that sat well on the strong planes of his tanned face. Tiny lines from laughter and squinting in the bright sun framed bourbon-brown eyes flecked with gold. A few premature strands of gray, threaded through his thick honey-colored hair at the temples, were the only visible signs of his thirty-four years. His dimpled grin displayed the same boyish charm and reminded MJ too well of the many times those lips had kissed hers.

She shoved aside the memories, whose pull had been both the driving force and the toughest part of her decision to leave Pleasant Valley for good. “What are you doing here, Grant? Taking a trip?”

He held her by the shoulders with strong but gentle hands, and his gaze searched her face, as if in assessment. “I’m on an errand of mercy. Your grandmother sent me to pick you up.”

MJ wiggled from his grasp before she succumbed to the desire to snuggle against him, as she had so often in the old days. Those times were gone forever. “You’ve wasted a trip. I’m renting a car.”

“Mrs. McDonough said there’s no need. And she doesn’t want you driving while you’re agitated.”

MJ’s temper soared. “I’d be a lot less agitated if I knew what the hell is going on.” Already worried sick about her folks, she resented having to struggle with old feelings for Grant Nathan, too. “Besides, I’ll need a car of my own, so you might as well leave.”

Grant shook his head. “You grandmother said you can use hers. She doesn’t drive much these days.”

MJ’s breath caught in her throat. “Nana’s all right?”

“Feisty as ever,” Grant said with a grin.

“Then what’s the family emergency she called me about?” Her anger flared again, and a sneaking suspicion kicked in. “This isn’t just a ploy to lure me home, is it?”

MJ wouldn’t put it past Nana to play at matchmaking, but surely even her persistent grandmother recognized that what MJ had shared with Grant was long over.

Grant’s expression sobered. He glanced across the concourse as if to avoid her gaze. “I don’t know if emergency is the word I’d use, but you’re definitely needed here.”

MJ’s knees went weak and she sank onto the nearest seat. “My mom? Dad? Are they okay?”

“They’re not sick or injured, if that’s what you’re asking.” Again he evaded her eyes.

“But they’re okay?” she insisted.

Grant looked ill at ease. “I promised your grandmother I’d let her fill you in.”

MJ crossed her arms over her chest and set her jaw. “I’ve been up all night, I’m worried out of my mind, and I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong. Something is wrong, isn’t it?”

“Merrilee June—”

“I’m MJ now.”

Grant’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Why?”

“So I don’t sound like a character from Gone With the Wind,” MJ said irritably. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong or not?”

“MJ,” Grant said with a grimace, as if the nickname left a bad taste in his mouth, “you know I won’t go back on my word to your grandmother.”

“A thousand horrible possibilities are driving me crazy! Don’t you feel any loyalty to me?”

His expression darkened. “As I recall, you cut me loose from any obligation six years ago.”

MJ’s panic meter was registering overload. She grabbed Grant by the biceps and attempted to shake him. She might as well have tried to move a tree. “Then for old times’ sake, please tell me what’s wrong.”

Her voice, loud and frantic, traveled across the concourse, drawing stares from other travelers.

“Calm down, Merrilee June, or I’ll have to go to my truck for horse tranquilizers.”

“Calm down!” Her voice rose an octave. “How calm would you be in my place?”

“The sooner we get going, the sooner your grandmother can fill you in,” Grant said, so reasonably she wanted to hit him. “I’ve already told you it’s not a life-and-death matter. Cat and Jim couldn’t be healthier. Sally Mae will explain the rest.”

Admitting defeat, MJ released her grip. She’d forgotten how stubborn Grant could be. Not actually forgotten, she realized. She’d simply relegated everything about him to the back of her mind. When she’d first moved to New York, that tactic was the only way she’d survived missing him.

“Is that all your luggage?” Grant nodded toward her camera bag.

MJ shook her head. “I have another bag. I didn’t know how long I’d have to stay. Still don’t,” she said accusingly, “since I haven’t a clue why I’m here in the first place.”

Grant grasped her elbow and steered her toward the baggage claim area. “I’m not breaking my promise to Sally Mae by admitting you’ll be here a good while.”

“A week?” MJ prodded.

“Probably longer,” Grant said, “but, hey, it’s spring-time in Pleasant Valley. You might as well enjoy it.”

At Grant’s easy manner, MJ’s anxiety lessened slightly. As her father’s business partner, Grant was fond of both her parents. If they were in imminent danger, he wouldn’t be so relaxed. Intense curiosity replaced her fears. What in heaven’s name was going on that would make Nana call her home from New York in the middle of the night? And how serious was the situation that solving it could take weeks?

MJ quickened her steps. Nana had a lot of explaining to do.

MJ parted with Grant at the baggage carousel and waited for her luggage while he went for his truck. When she picked up her bag, exited the airport and found him parked at curbside, her heart did flip-flops. The pickup was new, but the same make and color as the truck he’d had six years ago.

The years melted away and she was a college student again, home for spring break and waiting for Grant to arrive at her parents’ house. She’d known Grant all her life. He was six years older, but MJ had been best friends with his sister Jodie. The Nathans lived around the block from the Strattons, their backyards adjoined, and MJ and Jodie had been inseparable as children, even though Jodie had been two grades ahead of MJ in school. For MJ, an only child, Jodie had been the sister she’d always wanted. And Grant had been the handsome big brother, one who couldn’t be bothered with “the DTs,” short for Double Trouble, as he’d called MJ and Jodie.

The summer before MJ’s senior year in college, everything had changed.

Until that summer, she hadn’t seen much of Grant for years. First, he’d gone away to college, then veterinary school, and finally to an internship at an animal clinic in Georgia. Jodie had kept MJ informed of her brother’s activities in her letters to MJ at school, but MJ, busy with college courses and new friends, hadn’t given much thought to the boy she’d had a crush on through elementary and high school.

The summer after her junior year, her parents had welcomed her home with such enthusiasm that MJ again experienced momentary guilt at choosing a college in California that had kept her so far away. After only a few hours with her mother and father, however, her guilt had dissipated. Cat and Jim Stratton, even after more than two decades of marriage, were obviously crazy in love and the best of friends, as well. Merrilee June, as she’d called herself then, had recognized that when she eventually left home for good, her parents would miss her daily presence, but as long as they had each other, their lives would be complete.

“We’re having company for dinner,” her mother had announced upon Merrilee’s return from college for the summer. “Your father’s new partner.”

Merrilee had rounded on her father with concern. “A partner? You’re not slowing down?”

Jim Stratton had been in his late forties, which, to Merrilee, had seemed ancient at the time.

“On the contrary,” her father had said with that amiable grin she adored. With his dark brown hair and soft gray eyes, Merrilee had always thought him the most handsome man in the world. No wonder her mother loved him so much.

“The practice is growing so fast,” her father had explained, “I need all the help I can get. I’ve been working weekends for too long. I want to spend more time with your mother.”

Cat had winked at her daughter. “What he really means is he’s missing too many ball games on his brand-new, big-screen TV.”

But Merrilee had known better. Her parents had always enjoyed activities together: hiking, white-water rafting and picnics in the nearby Smoky Mountains, tending the vegetable garden that consumed most of the backyard and driving to Greenville or Asheville to attend concerts. For as long as Merrilee could remember, her parents had loved playing records from the fifties and sixties and dancing something they called “the Shag” with the furniture pushed aside in the family room. The snappy and sensuous movements of the dance had caused electricity to crackle between them. And when her father did watch sports on TV, her mother was right beside him, engrossed in the game and yelling caustic comments at the officials, just like one of the guys. Her dad had jokingly bought her mother a rubber-foam brick she could throw at the umpires and not damage the screen.

Another favorite sport of Jim Stratton’s was the opportunity to introduce his wife to someone new.

“Cat?” the person would usually ask. “Is that short for Catherine?”

Her mother would shake her head. “For Catawba. It’s the name of the river near Rock Hill where my father grew up. He loved the river and the name, so I was stuck with Catawba.”

Jim Stratton’s eyes would twinkle with delight. “Good thing her dad didn’t live on the river near Asheville. Instead of having a wife named Catawba, I’d have a French Broad,” he’d explain with a satisfied chuckle and suggestive leer.

“Jim, please!” Cat’s response was always indignant, but her soft blush and the gleam in her eye revealed that her mother actually loved her father’s teasing.

For most of her life, all Merrilee had ever wanted was a man who’d love her like her father loved her mother. Although she’d worried that she’d never find a love as perfect as her parents’, she’d still expected to marry, raise her children in Pleasant Valley and spend the rest of her life there.

But fate had other plans. When Merrilee chose to study fine arts at the University of California, her life changed forever. Aside from the occasional trip to Atlanta and family vacations to Florida, Merrilee had spent all her life in the town where she was born. California was culture shock.

“You wouldn’t believe this place,” she’d written Jodie. “It’s totally different from the isolation of our ultraconservative Pleasant Valley. I’ve met people on campus from all over the world, and on weekends and holidays, I’ve traveled from San Diego to Monterey. The art museums, the restaurants, the theaters are incredible! And the people talk about philosophy, politics and all kinds of things, not just which restaurant makes the best barbecue or who’s pregnant. Sometimes, Jodie, I swear, I don’t ever want to come home.”

With her college experiences, Merrilee’s expectations had shifted. A love like her parents’ would be nice, but only if her husband took her out of Pleasant Valley and gave her free rein to follow her career dreams and to travel the world. The prospect of settling down in the sleepy little town, which had once seemed idyllic, had seemed more like a death sentence.

Merrilee had been determined that the summer after her junior year would be the last she’d ever spend in Pleasant Valley.

Little had she guessed that fate was about to throw another curve in the form of her father’s guest for dinner that night.

“So who is this new partner?” Merrilee had asked.

“It’s a surprise,” her mother had said with a glimmer in her blue eyes, exactly like Merrilee’s.

And Merrilee had been surprised, all right. Not so much by the fact that her father’s partner was Grant Nathan as by Grant’s effect on her. When he’d entered the Stratton living room that night, Merrilee’s teenage crush had enveloped her in an overwhelming rush that metamorphosed into something much stronger and more breathtaking.

Merrilee had fallen in love.

And from the corresponding gleam in Grant’s eyes, she’d guessed correctly that he’d experienced the same emotion.

That was then, this is now, she reminded herself as they drove further upstate through the foothills of South Carolina toward the mountains. She shoved the memories and the emotions they evoked into that deep compartment of her heart where she’d kept them locked away these past several years. She’d severed her connection to Grant six years ago. For good. No need to revisit dead dreams.

But Grant’s presence, the steady, even sound of his breathing, his striking profile and distinctive male scent, and the easy manner with which his strong, capable fingers gripped the steering wheel, made slamming the door on those feelings again harder than when he’d been six hundred miles away.

To distract her attention from the enticing man at her side, MJ gazed out the window. Her sojourn in New York City had made her forget the beauty of South Carolina in early spring. In almost every yard, Bradford pear trees in full bloom reminded her of billowing bridal dresses. Arching branches of forsythia in vibrant yellow and stalks of brilliant purple irises provided splashes of color against the bright green of new grass, all framed against a cloudless sky of startling blue.

The highway soon left the towns and fields of the foothills and ascended into mountain forests, where an occasional clearing revealed ridge after ridge of the Smoky Mountains to the northwest, the deep emerald of their gentle folds and high peaks in stark contrast against the clear sky. MJ’s fingers itched for her camera, packed in its bag behind her seat.

With the familiar farms, small towns and forests unchanged and Grant once again beside her, MJ traveled through the countryside as if the intervening six years had never happened.

But they had.

She had left Pleasant Valley for good, with the exception of a rare holiday visit, and she had permanently cut all ties with Grant. If not for her parents and Nana, MJ would never have returned to the small town where she’d grown up. Unlike the smorgasbord of cultural and recreational delights of New York and its myriad opportunities for an aspiring artist, Pleasant Valley had nothing to offer except dead ends.

But in spite of MJ’s resolve to put the past behind her, coming home affected her. The sight of the white Colonial-style Welcome sign at the town limits brought an unexpected lump to her throat. After crossing the bridge over the river that paralleled Piedmont Avenue, the main thoroughfare, she found herself leaning forward, eager for her first glimpse of her grandmother’s impressive two-story house with its white clapboards and wide wraparound porch, only a block from downtown.

Nana must have been watching the street, because as soon as Grant pulled to the curb, the front door with its leaded-glass panes opened and Sally Mae McDonough stepped onto the porch. Dressed in a simple navy dress and matching low-heeled pumps, pearls at her throat and ears, and her white hair elegantly styled, Nana hadn’t changed since MJ’s last visit a year ago Christmas. Slender with perfect posture, her grandmother remained the quintessential Southern belle.

In other words, MJ thought with an inward grin, a steamroller disguised as a powder puff.

After seeing her Nana unchanged, MJ exhaled a sigh of relief. Nana, at least, as Grant had promised, seemed fine.

With a camel-colored cashmere cardigan draped around her shoulders, Nana waited until MJ climbed the stairs before speaking.

“Welcome home, child. It’s been too long.”

MJ hugged her grandmother, breathed in her signature scent of lilacs and reveled in the warmth of the familiar embrace. “It’s good to see you, Nana.”

“We missed you at Christmas.”

MJ fought rising guilt. “You know I had to work. I photographed seven weddings over the holidays.”

Her earnings had given her a precious few weeks off in January, time to add to her portfolio of the faces and places of the city in preparation for an exhibit of her own someday.

MJ lived for that someday.

“Wait!” Nana, who seldom raised her voice, had spoken loudly to Grant, who was still at the curb. “Is Gloria with you?”