Hell in Heaven

CHAPTER THREE

Suddenly Matt wished he'd never come to this town. Never turned off on the exit or even seen the sign.

Because he found he liked this woman who'd gone out of her way to apologize to the stranger they'd mistaken for their prodigal son.

And he could see in her eyes that something bad was coming.

How bad he didn't know.

If he had, he might have climbed on his bike and kept going. He might have let it carry him off a cliff. Anything but stay here and watch this road run red with blood.

Instead, he leaned in close to her frightened face. "What's wrong?" he whispered.

"Will you stay?" she said. "Just for one night."

He started to speak, but before he could get a word out she flushed a deep red. "I'm talking about staying in my guest room," she said quickly. "I'm not some crazy old spinster addled by loneliness, desperate to be fulfilled by the travelling stud."

"I'm not much of a travelling stud," Matt said. "And that thought never crossed my mind."

"It's just that there's something wrong here," she said. "And no one else can see it. They're all so happy, and they don't understand

…"

"Understand what?"

She looked up at him, and now her eyes were filling with tears. "I don't know," she said. "Maybe seeing is the wrong word. It's a feeling. A sense that things aren't right, that they might never be right again. Am I making any sense at all?"

If they'd been having this conversation a year ago, Matt would have said no. Before he died, he'd believed in nothing he couldn't see with his own eyes.

But he'd learned so much since then.

"I can stay for a night," he said. "Is there something special I should be looking out for?"

The woman exhaled so heavily Matt wondered just how long she'd been holding her breath. Since he'd come into town?

"Matt," she said.

"Yes?"

She started to correct herself, then her face broke into a broad smile so pretty Matt was mildly sorry she wasn't looking for the travelling stud. She pointed up at the banner that was fluttering gently in a soft breeze.

"You should be looking out for Matt when he comes," she said. "Just keep an eye on him, let me know if you sense anything strange."

"I'll try," Matt said. "But obviously I've never met him. I won't be able to tell if he's changed. In fact, I'll be the only one here who can't."

"It won't be that obvious," she said. "He's going to be just like he always was."

Matt shook his head, confused.

"I've read the letters he's sent since he's been gone," she said. "They all sound just like him. Even the handwriting's right. But there's something in there that's just a tiny bit off. It's like when you go to the movies and the projector gets a tiny bit out of synch. You can't actually tell the voices don't match the lip movements. But after a couple of minutes you have to turn it off, because you feel there's something wrong there."

"War can change a person," Matt said. "He might have seen some terrible things over there."

"This is something else," she said. "I mean, if it's anything at all, it's not that. And maybe it isn't anything. God knows that's what everyone else around here thinks."

"It may be what I think, too," Matt said.

"I hope so," she said. "I hope I'm only a crazy old lady who's imagining things. If you end up telling me that, you'll make me the happiest woman in Heaven." Her face darkened over. "But don't tell me what you think I want to hear. I need the truth."

"The truth is what you'll get," Matt said.

"Then let me show you what you're getting out of the deal," she said. "My house is just a couple of blocks from here. But then, what isn't?"

"Would you like a lift?"

She looked eagerly at the motorcycle, then over at the crowd. A couple of the older women outside the grocery store were casting suspicious looks in their direction.

"I think I'm calling enough attention to myself as it is," she said. "Can I give you directions and meet you at my house?"

"I can walk with it," Matt said, grabbing the handlebars and wheeling the bike toward her.

She waited until he'd caught up with her, then she turned and walked back to the beginning of the block. Turning right, she led him up a quiet street dotted with small bungalows, each with an extravagant garden in front. She noticed him looking at some of the flowers.

"It's so unendingly white here for so many months in the winter, we long for color the rest of the year," she said. "Which is just one of the many fascinating facts I can tell you about Heaven, Washington. Is there anything you want to know?"

"How about your name?"

She stopped so short he nearly hit her with his front wheel. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize," then she broke off. "I'm Joan. Joan Delaney."

Delaney.

She nodded gravely.

"That's right," she said. "Matt's my son."