Almost Heaven Read online

  “Merrilee, are you afraid to be alone with me?” Grant asked innocently

  “No!” Well…

  “Good. I’ll feed you, then take you home. Besides, I want to show off the house. It’s changed a lot since the last time you saw it.”

  If she continued to object, he might sense the reasons behind her reluctance, and her pride couldn’t allow that, so she abandoned her protests. But she’d shut the door on a life with Grant long ago. Tonight she’d make certain it remained locked and barred.

  As they neared Grant’s place, her curiosity stirred. The one glimpse she’d had of the house that fateful summer years back had revealed a log cabin, ready to collapse in a strong wind. She’d hated the house the moment she saw it, but not liking the place had been the least of her problems that day.

  The following morning she’d broken their engagement, certain she’d done the right thing. Even though she’d missed Grant terribly, she’d never doubted she’d made the best decision.

  The last thing on earth she wanted was for Grant to prove her wrong.

  Dear Reader,

  To paraphrase an ancient Chinese saying, we live in interesting times. Due to tumultuous world events, we appreciate more than ever security, solace, acceptance and love as bulwarks against the troubles of the day. In my new series, A PLACE TO CALL HOME, I’ve created a small town in upstate South Carolina where love and acceptance, along with only the occasional mayhem, abound. For the residents of Pleasant Valley, friends are family, and family is everything.

  In Almost Heaven, book one of the series, Merrilee Stratton has fled Pleasant Valley for New York City to follow her dream of becoming a famous photographer. When a family crisis calls her home, she can’t avoid her ex-fiancé, Grant Nathan, a handsome country vet. Will Merrilee come to realize that everything she’s searched for has been in Pleasant Valley all along—and that there’s no place like home?

  I hope you enjoy Merrilee and Grant’s story, and, as we say in the South, y’all come back and visit Pleasant Valley again in book two, One Good Man, will be out in January 2005.

  Happy reading!

  CHARLOTTE DOUGLAS

  Almost Heaven

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  The major passions of Charlotte Douglas’s life are her husband—her high school sweetheart to whom she’s been married for over three decades—and writing compelling stories. A national bestselling author, she enjoys filling her books with love of home and family, special places and happy endings. With their two cairn terriers, she and her husband live most of the year on Florida’s central west coast, but spend the warmer months at their North Carolina mountaintop retreat.

  No matter what time of year, you can reach her at [email protected]. She’s always delighted to hear from readers.

  Books by Charlotte Douglas

  HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

  591—IT’S ABOUT TIME

  623—BRINGING UP BABY

  868—MONTANA MAIL-ORDER WIFE*

  961—SURPRISE INHERITANCE

  999—DR. WONDERFUL

  1027—VERDICT: DADDY

  1038—ALMOST HEAVEN†

  HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

  380—DREAM MAKER

  434—BEN’S WIFE

  482—FIRST-CLASS FATHER

  515—A WOMAN OF MYSTERY

  536—UNDERCOVER DAD

  611—STRANGER IN HIS ARMS*

  638—LICENSED TO MARRY

  668—MONTANA SECRETS

  691—THE BRIDE’S RESCUER

  740—THE CHRISTMAS TARGET

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  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 tha
t 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 wo
rried 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.”