Past Heaven (7 page)

“Have you made a new rich best friend?”

I jerked my head around at the sound of Cindy’s voice. She handed me a cup of my beloved Diet Coke, and kissed my cheek.

Cindy. Just who I needed right now.

My best friend was a tall, thin, powerhouse of a woman who told it like it was. No bullshit and no polish. She had three daughters and an understanding husband. She loved to bitch to me about him, so I could remind her how awesome he was. She was the friend everyone hoped to have if they ever lost a loved one. She had taken care of my boys, my house, my laundry, and my meals when I couldn’t do it myself. She had helped me pick out Jack’s casket and the suit we had buried him in. She had stopped by every day to check in. She had been my life-line.

“Um, no. Not a new best friend. That was someone asking about Jack.”

Cindy pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table, her eyes widening at my words. “A reporter? Are they still bugging you for interviews? Call me next time they show up, and I’ll tell those nutters where they can stick it.” Cindy slapped the table, and I had to grin.

“Cind. This was not a reporter. It was a Hollywood guy.” I wasn’t ready to tell her it was Reynolds Carter. She was obsessed with celebrities. She read all the gossip magazines and watched only entertainment news. She would want me to work with him just because he was famous. I needed to think this through based on the facts alone.

She walked back to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “I’m feeling anxious. You just said Hollywood. I need to nosh.” She poked her head further into the fridge. “Yes! You have salsa!” She opened the jar as she walked to the pantry and grabbed the tortilla chips.

Settling back into her seat, she scooped salsa onto a large chip and shoveled it into her mouth. Waving her hand at me to continue, she chomped noisily on her food.

“This guy wants to write a screenplay based on Jack’s life. He’s hoping it will get made into a movie, and he wants me to help him with the storyline.” I watched as Cindy paused, a salsa covered chip frozen halfway to her gaping mouth.

“Shut the front door! A movie? About Jack? Can you do that? Are you ready?” Salsa dripped from the chip onto the table. I processed her questions as I reached for a paper towel. Was I ready to tell Jack’s story? Could I do it?

“I don’t know. I’m sure I would need to work with him on a daily basis, at least for a while. I’m not sure I could handle exposing myself to those memories every single day.”

Cindy finished chewing. She grabbed my soda and took a long drink. Wiping her hands on a napkin, she said, “I understand that. Let’s think through every angle of the decision. First off, where would you be working?”

Crap. I hadn’t thought of that. I had always been a stay-at-home mom. If the kids got sick, if school let out early, or if there was a weather delay, I was there. I wasn’t ready to leave that behind. I couldn’t afford to keep it up much longer, but Jack’s life insurance policy still allowed me to be home. “I’d ask him if we could work from here. So the boys wouldn’t be affected in any way.”

Cindy nodded. “And the boys. If you’re working from home, I’m sure at some point they would run into him. How do you feel about that?”

“Not good. I don’t want the boys around a stranger.” This was a bad idea. Maybe I shouldn’t do this. I rubbed my neck and blew out a breath.

“Calm down, mama bear. The boys will not be harmed by a writer in your home who wants to tell their dad’s story. You and the boys will hold onto all the good from Jack, but you need to let go of some of the pain. This dude wants to preserve Jack’s memory. That’s a gift!” Cindy grabbed my hand and squeezed. “I’ll be here every step of the way.”

My smile made her smile. “You always are.”

She reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope. “I think this happened at just the right time.” She slid the envelope to me and I opened it, scanning the contents.

“Joey called Keith last night. He wanted me to tell you, chicken shit lawyer that he is, that the proceeds of the life insurance policy will be gone by the end of the year. I stopped by to break it to you that you needed to look for a job. But it appears that issue has been resolved.” She stood up and kissed the top of my head. “You need to do this, Liz. You need the money, and you’ll regret not taking the chance. You’re ready for this. I know you are.”

She let herself out, and I cleaned up her salsa and chips mess. She was right. I did need this. If it became too much, I would end the project, but I wanted to push myself and give it a chance. Once I wrapped my brain around the idea that I could keep Jack’s memory alive, I couldn’t let it go.

“Hey Liz!” Reynolds answered after the first ring. “Whaddya say, are you ready to take a chance with me?” I could hear his excitement through the phone, and I relaxed for the first time since seeing him the day before.

“Yes.” A huge grin spread across my face, and I bit my lip to hold in the excitement. “I’m willing to give it a try.” I managed to get the words out in a jumble. My stomach was knotted with nerves.

“Holy shit! Wait a minute, you’ll help me tell Jack’s story?”

A small laughed escaped me. He sounded so thrilled to be doing this. His enthusiasm gave me hope that our working together would go smoothly. “We have a lot to figure out still, but yes,” I took a breath before continuing. “If you’ll put into the contract that I have veto power over anything that would be untrue or upsetting to my family, then yes I would love for you to tell Jack’s story.”

“Give me your email address, and I’ll send you the contract as soon as I get it from my attorney. Do you have a lawyer that can look at it for you?”

“Yes, I’ve been working with a wills and estates lawyer. I’ll ask him to read it for me.” Joey Powell was Cindy’s husband, Keith’s, cousin. He had helped me when Jack passed away. Joey’s firm was small, but I trusted him to look out for my best interests. I recited my email to Reynolds and pressed my hand against my now flat stomach.

“Great. This is going to work. I know it. Can I come over tomorrow morning to start our work?”

“Sure. I’ll see you then.” I disconnected the call and hung my head between my knees. I was going to pass out.
Holy crap
. What had I just agreed to? Reynolds Carter. The Reynolds Carter. OMG. Reynolds Carter was going to be working with me. At that moment, I felt genuine excitement. Almost a year had passed since I had felt that thrill running through me. The time had come to get over the fear and embrace a new opportunity. I only wished I knew for sure if Jack would have agreed with me.

“DAD, MY PROJECT is happening!” Sitting in the backseat of my SUV, I waited for Liz. We hadn’t set a time to meet today. In my excitement, I forgot to ask. I assumed she was running, so I called my dad to pass the time.

“Great news, Reynolds. I’m happy for you.” Dad had been on board with this project since I first filled him and mom in on it.

“As soon as I read about Jack Atwater, I knew this was my story. I’m telling you, Dad, people in the industry will go nuts for this screenplay.” Every day the news that I read featured stories on drug dealers, corrupt politicians, and page after page of Hollywood gossip. The movies I acted in were shallow and superficial. Now I had a chance to introduce people, across a widespread platform, to a story they didn’t know, but one they should.

“And Elizabeth? His wife agreed? I know you were concerned.”

“It took some convincing, but she did. If this could become a successful movie, her family would be taken care of for the rest of their lives. That would be a great gift to leave her and her kids.”

“It would be an amazing gift, son.”

Dad and I talked for a few more minutes when I noticed Liz jogging up the length of her driveway. I ended our call and hopped out of the SUV.

Liz’s neighborhood was picture-perfect. Traditional single-family homes were spread apart on large acre lots. Every house had a basketball hoop in the driveway, and most hung American flags. It was a warm, country-loving, family-first place.

I was totally out of my element.

“Hi, I’m sorry. I’m early.” I smiled and watched as she placed her hands on her knees, panting and trying to catch her breath.

“I realized half-way through my run that we hadn’t set a time. I worried you would be here, waiting on me, so I sprinted back.” She took in a heaving breath and straightened. “Come in.”

Following her into the house, she offered me a cold bottle of water and opened one for herself. The woman I had seen in the pictures from my research looked worn and aged with grief. The woman who stood in front of me, wearing sweat-stained and tight running gear, appeared to be healing. She looked younger, less harsh, and in extraordinary shape. I couldn’t help but notice that there wasn’t an ounce of fat on her. She wasn’t stick-thin like Kylie. She was strong with toned arms, flat abs, and great legs. Really great legs.

Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she had no makeup on, but her skin glowed, still pink from her run. The biggest shock, though, was her eyes. They were deep brown and sparkled with youthfulness as she spoke, but they were also hauntingly soulful.

She was sexy. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Not in the way I was used to, but in a natural, full of life kind of way. None of that mattered, however. I was done with women, and I sure as hell wasn’t interested in anything with a woman I was working with, ever again. No more mixing business with pleasure.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to take a quick shower.” Liz said, fidgeting with the cap on her water bottle.

“Take your time. I’m fine.” I pulled my laptop out of my messenger bag as Liz walked upstairs. I re-read the contract my attorney had emailed, pleased that everything looked in order. Fucking lawyers always had a way of making everything complicated, but I had given clear instructions. Nothing long, nothing complex, and no words a fifth grader couldn’t spell. I wanted this to happen, and I wasn’t going to let a contract get in the way.

I glanced around the room. No matter how much I wanted to focus on the contract, I just had to get up and look around. A need to understand this woman, and Jack, consumed me. The layout wasn’t unusual for a suburban house, but the energy was different. It was a home. I peered out the kitchen window into the backyard. A warm smile spread on my face, and I chuckled. Of course, they would have the biggest play set I’d ever seen and several soccer goals. I walked to the family room. A large sectional filled the space, marked by numerous stains, and littered with remotes and gaming handsets. Framed art, made by her children, hung on the walls. Reaching out, I lightly touched the paintings with my fingertips. The art was imperfect, flawed, and messy. But it was treasured. Coveted. Loved.

Family photos and school pictures of the boys filled every free surface. I walked around to each picture, studying them while rubbing my fingers along the stubble on my jaw. Most pictures had Jack in them. Snapshots of vacations and holidays showed a happy family. Kylie and I had never hung one framed photograph of us like that. We had headshots and formal portraits, but nothing casual. Nothing real.