Heaven Beside You Read online

  “You should call your friend Gretta. She’ll be so excited.”

  Whoa. What a great idea. Cass licked her lips. She and Gretta had been inseparable in college but afterward had grown a little more separable every year, to the point where they now exchanged only Christmas and birthday cards. She didn’t even have Gretta’s email. Gretta had been one of the three friends in the car who’d gotten twelve people from the door. She understood the therapeutic value of a package of Double Stuf Oreos and a gallon of milk. Gretta would understand…all this. “I probably should.”

  “Well, it’s getting late. I should let you go. You have a big day tomorrow. Good night, sweetheart.”

  “Good night, Mom.” Cass hung up the phone. Call Gretta who shared her fascination with Touchstone and Jason Callisto in particular. She lived in another state and wouldn’t have told a soul in town if she’d lived next door. Who had served as a steady conscience all through college. Cass hoped the number she had was still accurate.

  * * * *

  Jason finished making up the bed. Maybe not up to military standard, but he didn’t plan to bounce quarters on it. He didn’t plan on bouncing anything on it. What he had in mind was more of a slow, rhythmic rocking motion with some heavy breathing and moaning thrown in for good measure. The fire popped and he jumped. He’d never realized how empty silence could be. Hopefully he would be able to get his hands on some speakers in town, or borrow some. The open, airy cabin swallowed up any volume his phone was capable of. All he could hear were the fire and the sound of wind in the trees outside. Unnerving.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed. What it lacked in audio equipment, the In the Pines Campground more than made up for in comfy furniture and attractive company. He peered through the fireplace to the living room. Hers opened into both rooms too. He’d been able to see her lush bedspread reflecting in the fire. Not that this bed appeared less cozy now with the two comforters, but he’d rather be in hers. Sliding between those sheets and making love to her in the glow of the firelight. The flames would glint in her brilliant hair when she arched her white neck and cried out his name.

  Well, enough of that. He stood up. Over the last tour he’d been mobbed with groupies who knew he was single and not a one of them had appealed even a tenth as much as Cassandra Geoffrey wearing a vintage apron over a turtleneck sweater, which made no sense at all. The groupies had dressed to flaunt their attributes. Cassandra seemed to be showing off her culinary skills. And she cooked, very, very well. A definite bonus. If she cooked half that well in the bedroom, this exile wouldn’t be so bad.

  He went back into the living room. His cellphone lay on the coffee table between the couch and the fireplace. He’d left it behind so he wouldn’t be interrupted by anyone trying to make sure he’d arrived. Now, he called Brian’s house.

  “Hey.”

  “I made it.” The familiar chaos at Brian’s came through the phone. He had a two-year-old and a five-year-old. One of them was squalling.

  “How is it?”

  “Rustic, but the owner is something else.” Jason fidgeted with a tan couch pillow trying to define something else so it would cover this scenario. Brian probably wouldn’t believe him if he said it meant she made his hands sweaty and his groin tighten in ways he hadn’t felt in years, even if that was true. Rock star Jason Callisto should be too jaded to feel like this. He’d seen it all and had it all too often to be so turned on by a woman in a vintage apron, no matter how good her dinner rolls tasted. When he’d picked up his baggage at the airport, he must have forgotten to grab the box marked Jaded.

  “She’s a cow, isn’t she? She looks like that woman in Misery’s less attractive cousin,” Brian said. He had been less than inspired by Sandy’s solution to the problem Jason’s continuing grouchy behavior presented. Of course, Brian’s solution—getting him drunk and setting every groupie in Chicago on him—hadn’t been the greatest either. Especially after they’d found him locked in his hotel bathroom the next morning because the girls couldn’t get to him there.

  Jason could almost see his best friend’s buoyant grin through the phone. Blond, beautiful Brian was his polar opposite, and Jason wondered why he didn’t punch him out. “Nope.”

  “Then she must look like what’s her name in The Shining, Olive Oyl.”

  “You read so much Stephen King, you could try to remember the characters’ names.” Jason smiled. Brian had been the only one able to bring the slightest smile to his face for the past two years. Even the groupie incident had been funny later that day. He was also the one person in the world Jason harbored a burning jealousy for, and most of the reason was wailing in the background.

  “So what’s the verdict?”

  “She’s really hot. Really, really hot.” Once again, the usual terms didn’t cover the current situation. Hot? He’d have felt cooler standing in the fireplace. Plus, being on fire might have distracted him. Not much though. He’d missed most of the movie because he’d been focused on her sitting in the chair behind him. Even when he couldn’t see her, she had all his attention.

  “You do her yet?”

  Jason flinched. He didn’t think of Cassie in terms of ‘doing her.’ The first phrase that came to mind with her was long, drawn out, passionate lovemaking. The tension in his lower body notched up at the thought. “I seem to be on the phone with you,” he pointed out.

  “You used to be pretty fast. I thought maybe you were done.”

  Being fast wasn’t something he prided himself on anymore. “I’ve matured.”

  Brian laughed until he snorted. “So what’s the plan for this one? You’ve only got two weeks.”

  “I’ll make the most of it.”

  A child piped, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” in the background.

  His lust for Cassie gave ground to the overwhelming jealousy for Brian’s home life. It wasn’t fair. Brian had stumbled into marriage and fatherhood. Jason had wanted to settle down and have kids years ago, Paul and Linda McCartney-style. One woman, a couple of kids, ’til death do us part. Maybe with somebody who knew how to cook a roast to perfection, made mouthwatering desserts and wore vintage aprons.

  What was he thinking? This trip was for getting over Stella, not jumping back into the deep end.

  “Hush a minute,” Brian was saying. “So does this mean you’re over the Stella bit—uh—lady?”

  “What’s a bitlady?” Brian’s little girl asked.

  “Hush, sweetie,” his friend said to his daughter.

  “I don’t know.” Jason knew what Brian meant. ‘Stella bitch’ was Brian’s affectionate term for Jason’s ex. The woman who was supposed to be The One. Depression snuffed out his jealousy, though lust lurked in the background. No groceries meant no bourbon, his depression medication of choice. All he had to drink was water. Did Cassie have any alcohol? It wouldn’t take much to run over and check. She might already be in her nightgown. A long flannel nightgown with a ruffle at the throat, or an old T-shirt, or footy pajamas. Somehow, the thought of her in footy pajamas with her long hair spilling across her shoulders was intensely appealing. Or Cassandra in a white ruffled flannel nightgown with her hair pulled back in a demure little bun that he could unravel. Anything would work, really. He might find a better cure for depression. The lust surged, pushing his depression back where it belonged.

  “Well, take it easy. You don’t want to get sucked in again. You’re a world class drag when you’re depressed.”

  “Thanks, Bri.”

  “Anytime. Say good night to Uncle Jason.”

  “Good night, Uncle Jason.”

  Jason’s chest tightened. Why couldn’t that little girl be his? “Good night, sweetie. Make sure Daddy checks the closet and under the bed for monsters. I heard there’s some bad ones in your neighborhood tonight. It was on the news.”

  “On the news?”

  “Thank you, Jason. Goodbye. Honey, there are no m—”

  The connection cut, and J
ason grinned. Eventually Tess would stop believing him when he told her about monsters, but until then he intended to use it to its fullest and little Brian, better known as Bubbie, was about ripe for those stories too. He could see Brian, now forced to inspect every inch of Tess’s room, cursing his name, while Tess stood at the door wide-eyed.

  Stella hadn’t wanted kids. She’d said it would ruin her figure and given him references of supermodels who had no careers once they’d had children. She had hinted she’d think about it once she passed her modeling prime, and Jason had been stupid enough to believe her. He’d believed a lot of things about beautiful, blond and cool Stella. Like she loved him and she hadn’t loved any of those other guys she’d used as stepping-stones for her career. That she would marry and settle down with him, and had participated when they’d had sex. No surprise that she’d gone after an actor this time. She’d gotten a lot of practice acting like she loved him.

  Jason peered out the front window. Cassie had a light on. She was still awake, and might have something to drink. Once she’d had a few drinks she might be willing to share that big bed with him.

  Disgusted with himself, he tossed the phone on the table. It skated across the surface and clattered on the hardwood floor. Plotting to bed Cassie like this wasn’t much better than what Stella had done to him, and he didn’t have it in him to be that big a jerk. If she was willing, then something would happen. He wouldn’t force or manipulate her. And she’d have to know being with him was a temporary thing.

  He’d just get himself a nice glass of cold water, pour it over his head and go lie in the cozy bed Cass had provided and stare at the ceiling until morning.

  If he had a glass.

  * * * *

  Cass huddled in bed late the next morning trying to get some sleep. The number she had for Gretta wasn’t hers anymore and the person who’d answered had been annoyed. The Internet hadn’t yielded any useful information either. She’d settled for writing a long letter to the last address she had for her, which she intended to send overnight when she picked up her mail. With luck, Gretta would call in two days.

  If Jason Callisto kept acting like he had last night, though, how was she going to last two more days?

  She heaved herself out of bed, slid her feet into fluffy slippers and pulled on her thick terrycloth robe. Before trying to make the bed, she tossed a log on the coals. The furnace kept the place habitable, but the fire was necessary to keep it warm. Damn. She hadn’t told him how to bank the fire for the night. She’d have to go in and lay a new one for him. Although, he might have been tending it most of the night. Every time she’d gotten up last night, shadows had been moving across his front window that couldn’t be attributed to the flames. Could he have been thinking about her?

  No. She wasn’t that special. Popping a slice of bread in the toaster, she made herself a cup of tea. It was already nearly eleven. If she intended to go down the mountain around lunchtime, that would be now. Instead she ate before dressing in jeans, a sweatshirt and a parka, resisting the impulse to dress up for him, and went outside to look at one of the trees in the circle.

  The tall, thin oak down near Cabin One wanted to fall over. How she knew this she couldn’t explain, just accepted that she did. The first winter up here, she’d thought a tree was about to fall and ignored the intuition, only to have it crash through the roof of one of the worse-off cabins. The cabin had been a complete tear down. She’d never ignored that particular hunch again.

  The oak was small enough, she could cut it down herself. However, they’d get back too late today. It would have to wait until tomorrow.

  “Hi. Is it time?”

  Cass turned around. Jason stood on the porch, dressed in black again, with his arms wrapped around his chest against the cold. Cass forced herself to speak before she forgot how. “Oh, anytime. Do you want a bite before we head down?”

  He shook his head, and was shivering hard. “I’m okay. I’ll get my coat.”

  Cass peered up at the tree again. If she didn’t cut carefully, it would fall through a roof. She was going to have to put it down in the road and block both of them in until she’d cut it up. The big oak in the center of her circle of cabins was about to lose some branches too. That job would require climbing equipment and a spotter, but could wait.

  “What are you looking at?”

  Cass jumped. She hadn’t noticed Jason stroll up beside her. What she had taken for a black turtleneck from the distance was in fact dark gray. It contrasted with his black wool coat. Her heart throbbed in her throat, nearly cutting off her ability to speak. “This tree. It has to come down or it’ll fall down. Will I bother you if I use a chainsaw tomorrow? I need to take it down before I get a heavy snowfall that takes it down for me.”

  He smiled. “Whatever you want.”

  Cass shivered, almost certain he wasn’t talking about the saw. “We can get going. Just let me get a better coat.” He couldn’t see her wearing this ratty parka all through lunch. She went into the house through the garage and dug through her closet for her peacoat. At least now she’d look like she’d made a stab at fashion. It felt that way. This coat wasn’t nearly heavy enough. The cold fingers of winter would find their way through the fabric the moment she stepped out. Maybe it would help cool her off. She grabbed her purse and the box of envelopes she needed to take to the post office.

  Jason waited in the garage next to her beat up pick up. He didn’t seem at all fazed by the twelve-year-old vehicle or its mismatched doors.

  “I bought it from a friend cheap,” she said. “I’m sure you have a much better car.”

  He shrugged, climbed into the passenger side. “It probably handles the mountain roads better than any of my cars. What’s in the box?”

  She nestled the box between them on the seat. Having a box wedged against her thigh reassured her more than the thought of nothing at all between them. “Confirmations for summer. Some people like to schedule early.” The heater blasted them with cold air and the cab was still cramped and overheated. As Jason reached down and flicked it off with his long fingers, she couldn’t take her eyes off his slender fingers on the switch. He had thick calluses right on the tips. What would they be like against her cheek? Her throat...her breasts?

  When she managed to look away it felt like she’d stared for a long time, but Jason didn’t seem to notice. Not that he was a great judge. He spent most of his waking hours being stared at.

  He seemed quiet on the drive down the mountain. Maybe he was lost in thought. Could be, too, he worried about them making it down the mountain’s steep, winding rutted road. She didn’t need to concentrate on the road as much as she needed to not obsess about him. Was he tired this morning? Maybe she hadn’t been dreaming when she thought she’d seen him in the window. No. Even if he had been standing in the window mooning, it didn’t have to be about her. There were plenty of women he could have been thinking about last night. Models and actresses and heiresses. He didn’t even have to be thinking about a woman. Anything could have kept him awake.

  She pulled into the grocery store’s parking lot and stopped, the nose of her truck nudging the wall of the diner. He could have been up all night pondering the state of the environment and climate change, for all she knew. She should have been lying awake worrying about how he would perceive the wacky charms of Potterville, West Virginia. The grocery store, for instance.

  When she was growing up, that Potterville didn’t even rate a decent chain grocery store had bothered her. Henderson’s had cracked floor tiles, sagging, water stained ceiling panels and never had anything exotic like she’d read about in magazines. After her return from New York, she’d decided she liked Henderson’s better. They didn’t lack, they just didn’t have a bunch of stuff she never used. If she decided she needed chipotle peppers or basmati rice, she could drive to Gaitherberg and buy them at the chain store or order them over the Internet. Henderson’s had added wine recently, too. She might be the
only one who bought it though, because it had all aged since the display went up, but it was for sale.

  She looked back toward Jason. He was pondering the cement blocks on the wall in front of him as if they were terribly important. “Jason?” she whispered.

  Jason didn’t move.

  “We’re here,” she said louder.

  He started and turned to her. “Sorry. I was thinking.”

  “I thought we should have lunch first. Then you can get your groceries and I can run my errands.” She put her hand on the door handle. Was she out of her mind letting Jason loose in this town? Or was letting the town loose on Jason maybe the worse crime?

  “You’re not coming to the store with me?”

  “I have to stop in at the post office and see somebody at the travel agency.”

  “What should I get?”

  Cass raised an eyebrow. He’d been twenty when Touchstone released its first record. Was it possible he’d never grocery shopped? “You don’t have a crumb in the cabin. You need enough food to last you two weeks.”

  He frowned. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Three meals a day times fourteen days. If I were you, I’d start in the canned soup aisle. And remember, you do have a small microwave.” She climbed out. “We’ll discuss it over lunch.” She headed for Ida’s. The cold wind cut through her coat. Her parka had been so warm. The snow under her feet crunched like Styrofoam. She rushed through the door with Jason on her heels. Only because it was cold and his coat wasn’t built for this weather either. Couldn’t be because he wanted to be closer to her.

  “Cassie, don’t you look pretty today,” Ida said, grinning, as the door banged closed behind them. “What are you doing down the holler already and who is your scrumptious friend?” She tapped her long hot pink fingernails on the cash register. “Hey, Paul, come on out and get a load of Cassie’s new friend.”

  Cass froze. Paul.