A Date on Cloud Nine

by Jenna McKnight

  There was a crash in the back of the store, followed by a curse, and Sexy Rumble pulled up short. “Everything okay back there?”

  A shout followed. “Everybody out! Now!” The ensuing explosion was the last thing Lilly heard before something hit her in the head, hard. She went down. Just before she blacked out completely, her last thought was of her parents reading the world’s worst headline: DILDO SHOP DETONATES, ONE DEAD.

  2

  Lilly thought she’d heard quiet before, until now. Suddenly there was nothing. Nada. Not even her own heartbeat. Total blackness. Total silence, like…

  She couldn’t even say what it was like. But it was eerie.

  Ami deaf?

  No sooner had she given life to that thought than she began to hear things again. Fire crackling, voices shouting—one a deep rumble, the other, Betsy.

  No matter how hard Lilly tried to hang on to the voices, on to the brief, fleeting comfort they provided, they started to fade about the same time she saw a pinpoint of light overhead. Glowing steadily, it grew larger, brighter, closer. She sensed movement. She saw others all around her in a tunnel of nothingness, though they were different, more energy fields than bodies.

  This couldn’t be right.

  “No, wait!”

  Her voice echoed back, mocking her.

  She stopped traveling before she reached the bright light, involuntarily pausing in a place that was boundary-less, yet somehow peaceful. She waited a moment, but nothing significant changed.

  “Hello? Anybody here?”

  She’d read everything she could get her hands on about dying, a few months ago. She’d been curious why her husband, Brady, had died with such a peaceful expression on his face when his leaving her had been so sudden, so unexpected. He was only thirty-three, played racquetball twice a week, and actually enjoyed the healthy meals their chef prepared. One minute he was smiling tenderly at her across the table, sharing a private joke, and the next—bam!—he was on the floor at her feet, no heartbeat, and nothing she did helped.

  She knew about going toward the light.

  “Hey, I think there’s been a mistake.”

  She began to move again, but not straight ahead.

  Uh-oh, this doesn’t look good.

  She was traveling off to the right, not exactly away from the light, yet not toward it either, finally coming to rest in front of a less-intense beam. Still, there was that bright spot off to the left, holding her attention. So much so that she hardly noticed the… beings in front of her until they morphed into two human forms in flowing white robes.

  “Welcome,” the taller one said. His hair and beard were white, and he spoke the single word without emotion, his attention riveted on the electronic clipboard in his hands.

  “You’re early,” the woman standing next to him added gently. Her hair was the whitest blond Lilly’d ever seen, her long tresses flowing over her shoulders and halfway down her robe. Under any other circumstances, her beatific smile would have been reassuring. “We didn’t expect you this soon.”

  “Good, because I think I don’t want to be here this soon.”

  So much for saving for a rainy day. She’d amassed a nice-sized nest egg because, when her father’s investments had all gone bust, she’d learned firsthand what it was like to go from the haves to the have-nots. There wasn’t anything wrong with wanting the best for your kids. She was determined that hers would have the best of everything, with no worries about necessities and tuition. Or… they would have.

  “Where am I?”

  “Transition,” he said, evidently not one to waste words.

  “Think of it as a holding room,” the blonde added more gently.

  This can’t be good.

  “Who are you guys?”

  “I’m Elizabeth.” Smiling warmly, she added, “In your incarnation, I was your grandmother.”

  “Really? I never met—”

  “I know, dear. That was one of my biggest regrets, that I didn’t live long enough to teach your mother that she could be both strong and nurturing. Now I know you have a thousand questions, but I think John’s ready to explain everything.”

  “Okay, I see what happened this time.” John kept stabbing the clipboard with his index finger as he perused whatever information it held. “Welcome back, Lilly.”

  “I’ve, uh, been here before?”

  “That’s right.” He sounded so neutral, she couldn’t pick up on which way this was going to go.

  “More than once,” Elizabeth added. Her voice was soft and sweet, like the good witch of Oz. “You can’t seem to learn your lesson, so you’ve been diverted here again.”

  Oh great, Judgment Day, and I get the tag team.

  Elizabeth laughed lightly, the way you’d expect an angel to. John barely smiled. Maybe it was a grimace.

  “Oh, God,” Lilly groaned. “You know what I’m thinking, don’t you?”

  “There are no secrets here,” John said. “Your life, everything you’ve done, every thought you’ve had, it’s all an open book. Now, let’s get down to business.”

  “About being in that store—I can explain. See—”

  “Please. Don’t.” He held up a hand to forestall any conversation on her part, so she didn’t mention that crack about St. Peter either. “You weren’t supposed to die quite so soon. If you hadn’t dashed across the floor after that money, you would’ve been in the clear along with everyone else.” His sigh was eloquent. “And we had such high hopes for your son.”

  “My—What son?” She’d suffered through a miscarriage two years ago, and after that Brady hadn’t cooperated, but these guys knew that.

  “The one you were supposed to have before your next birthday.” Elizabeth’s tone was gentle, as if she understood how close this was to Lilly’s heart.

  “Really? That soon?”

  Lilly’s hands closed protectively over her flat belly, wondering, dreaming as she had many times, what it would be like to feel a tiny flutter there, to give life to another person. Oh, she’d be such a great mother. He’d be her first, and she’d nurture him and teach him to be a great big brother, to love all the little ones who’d follow. No nanny. No boarding school. No last-minute, long-distance birthday wishes from Tahiti or Paris.

  But… she was here. She’d died.

  “He was destined to do such important things.” Even though John’s tone was still neutral, his choice of words alone indicated lament, and something more.

  They were blaming her? The hell with that.

  “Well,” she snapped, “maybe if my husband hadn’t died . . .”

  Elizabeth sighed. “If only you’d picked the right one.”

  “Yes,” John agreed. “Then your son would’ve had all the right genes. All the right memories.”

  “Did you mean what you said, Lilly?” Elizabeth asked. “Would you give anything to go back and have your baby?”

  “Yes!” Lilly said quickly, knowing whatever she had to give up would be worth it.

  “Now, Elizabeth, remember we have to stick to the rules,” John said. “We can only send people back who gain new insight. I don’t think that applies in this case.”

  Lilly felt as if she’d been slapped.

  “Do you have new insight?” John demanded.

  Think fast.

  “Uh, if I smell gas, get the heck out of the building?”

  John was polite enough not to shake his head, but Lilly could tell he wanted to. Elizabeth, on the other hand, arched her eyebrows and rubbed the tips of her fingers against her thumb.

  “Money? Oh!” What had John said? She was early because she’d been in the wrong place, because she was chasing two dollars across the floor. That was it. “Money’s bad?”

  No way!

  “New insight?” Elizabeth prompted.

  “Oh. Bad, bad, bad. I’ll go back, and I’ll never chase money again.”

  John hung his head. Elizabeth, though, shot looks of encouragement her way. So, recalling the nick
el she’d pocketed and that she had to give up something, Lilly took another stab at it.

  “I’ll pick it up and give it to the nearest person? Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll give it away.”

  John shook his head. “I’m afraid this is a waste of time.”

  “But—”

  “How much money did you give to charity last year?” he demanded.

  “You mean to the nearest penny?”

  “Yes.”

  “Uh…”

  “Zero! And how much do you have?”

  “To the nearest—”

  “As of yesterday, your net worth was eighteen million dollars.”

  Great! Lilly thought with a rush of pride. Except for that “was” part.

  “And you’re still hoarding nickels—”

  Oh. Not great.

  “—and chasing small bills across the floor!”

  “Okay, okay, I get it. You want me to tithe. Five percent.”

  “You can do better.”

  “Ten percent?” It hurt just thinking about it, but still, it’d be worth it.

  “Ten times better.”

  “All of it?” If she weren’t dead, the shock would’ve killed her.

  “All of it! And not just the money. The house and cars, too. The airplane. Jewelry, antiques, everything.”

  “Jesus!”

  “No”—John smiled—”but maybe next visit, if you’re lucky.” He punched some buttons on the clipboard.

  It took several moments for Lilly to work past the shock. “So, let me get this straight. If I learn my lesson, gain new insight—” She thought using their terminology was a nice touch; it showed she’d been listening. “Then go back and get pregnant—”

  John glanced at Elizabeth. “Did you remember the deadline?”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Elizabeth, who appeared to be less seasoned at Transition, turned back to Lilly with a chagrined smile. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you. You have to give everything away and have the baby by your next birthday.”

  Lilly counted months on her fingers. “That only gives me a few weeks, and I’m not even dating anyone… Wouldn’t it be easier if you just handled this like you did with Mary? You know, send an angel and bam, I’m pregnant?”

  “It’s not as if you’ll be carrying the Son of God,” John said dryly.

  “Which brings up another point. Giving away all my money really doesn’t make sense from a logical perspective, you understand, because then we won’t have anything to live on.”

  Elizabeth cleared her throat gently, warningly, and mouthed, “Have faith.”

  Lilly sighed. “Okay, strike that last part.” But already her mind was spinning through ideas of how to sock some money away.

  “I think we need to give her some guidelines, John.”

  Yeah. Guidelines. Giving away everything was so foreign a concept, there was no way she could undertake it on her own.

  “It’s a test. She needs to gain this insight on her own,” John said.

  “Well, it hasn’t worked the last two lifetimes. We should give her a little help.”

  John checked his clipboard again. “Hm, I’m already overbooked. Do you have time?”

  “I have a few minutes.”

  “Okay, then. Congratulations, Lilly, it looks like you’ll be going back immediately.”

  Good, she’d have time to work on a loophole.

  “Not in this lifetime,” John said, grinning, then sobered again. “I’ll just say my piece and then turn you over to Elizabeth. Remember, Lilly, you have to prove you’re capable of change from the get-go, or you’ll be back here before you know it.”

  “I’ll work on it, I promise.”

  “As a matter of fact, you might want to rethink the whole thing right now.” John’s tone turned ominous. “Because if you take this second chance and fail in any way, there will be repercussions.”

  Lilly swallowed before she asked, “You mean… ?” She didn’t want to suggest hell.

  John’s grin was devilish. “Not exactly.”

  He moved off, a light receding into darkness, with no definite beginning and no definite end, leaving Elizabeth and Lilly to finish up.

  “What’d he mean?”

  Elizabeth held out her hand. “I can show you.”

  Lilly stepped forward and reached out, expecting to feel nothing. Instead, Elizabeth’s hand was solid and warm in hers, as comforting as a grandmother’s should be.

  “Close your eyes. Good, now clear your mind.”

  “Okay.”

  Elizabeth sighed. “Really, Lilly, if you don’t stop thinking about money, you’re going to fail miserably.”

  “Sorry.”

  “And I stress the word miserable”

  Lilly cleared her mind as best she could and saw what Elizabeth meant. She didn’t want to say she had a vision, but she did feel as though she were looking down on a scene.

  There, standing by a large, ornate gate was St. Peter. He was positioned to one side, greeting new arrivals, shaking their hands, welcoming them in. To the other side, a line of very bored-looking people stretched to infinity.

  Lilly didn’t do lines.

  “Notice anything?” Elizabeth asked.

  “They’re all dressed differently.”

  Men and women, rich and poor, wore a wide variety of garb: pantaloons, bustles, cowboy boots, suits of armor, peasant rags, loincloths, ruffled collars, crowns, and powdered wigs, among others. She couldn’t view the whole line, yet she knew every time and place and class was represented.

  “Some people have been in line a long, long time,” Elizabeth warned, and Lilly understood this would be her fate if she failed.

  “Pretty darned close to hell, if you ask me.”

  “You were pretty quick to agree to go back. Want to change your mind and stay?”

  Lilly realized she wouldn’t be going right in; otherwise she wouldn’t be in Transition now. She’d be in line with everyone else.

  “Not so far back, though,” Elizabeth said.

  “You know I’d never give up the chance to have a baby.”

  She saw St. Peter’s smiling face as he welcomed the next new arrival, and she knew she wanted that, too, a Go directly to heaven pass.

  “Good choice.” Elizabeth released Lilly’s hand and broke the connection to her dubious future. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, I’m afraid. To carry a baby full term, you have at most a few weeks to complete the first step. After that, well, John’s been in charge of Transitions for several centuries now. He demands—let’s see, how can I put this?—a high level of change.”

  “In other words…”

  “Clean up your act, girl.”

  “Um, can you be more specific?”

  “Well, for one, you can’t go throwing money away. You can’t hand it all over to your friends. In fact, you can’t give any of it to your friends. You must ensure that it all goes where it will do good. The more, the better.”

  “I could give it to the Church, I guess.”

  “May I make a suggestion?”

  “Please!”

  “Spread it out. Reach more people, and I mean on a personal level. Don’t just write a bunch of checks and drop them in the mail. Go see where it’s needed, meet those who need it. Give just what’s warranted in each situation. Nothing extra. Make every dollar count. You’re good at that, and John will expect you to put it to good use.”

  “Whew, that could take a while.” She’d look up Mr. Sexy Rumble in her spare time. But that raised a big question. “So how will I find the right man right away?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Not even a hint?”

  Elizabeth leaned close and whispered, “It’s someone you already know.”

  “That’s the best you can do?”

  “There’ll be perks,” she said with an enticing wink.

  “Other than having a baby, the only perk I can think of is—” Lilly felt her cheeks burn hell-hot. �
��It’s not so bad that you know everything I’ve ever said, but do you have to know every thought I’ve ever had, too?”

  “It’s pretty universal, really. Every woman wants one night of lusty, heart-pounding passion.” Elizabeth sighed. “The multiple-orgasms-until-you-think-you’ll-pass-out type.”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind trying that.” In light of Elizabeth’s glow, it was impossible to be embarrassed.

  “You’ll do fine if you just keep the rules in mind. Break any of them, though, and pfft, you’re right back here, and you’ll be dealing with John, instead of me.”

  “Will I remember this? Well, I guess I will, if I’m going to be writing my net worth down to zero. Otherwise my friends’ll have me committed.”

  “If you’re comfortable, you can share some of what you saw and felt. You know, the usual near-death-experience stories.” Elizabeth’s voice began to fade. “But I just want to caution you against telling anyone why you’re doing what you’re going back to do. That never works out. Oh, and since you were early, everyone’s already booked, but I’ll see if I can find a mentor to get you through the next few months. Wouldn’t want you to go astray again.”

  “Will I—Hey, wait!” At first she thought Elizabeth was fading, but then she realized it was she herself who was moving away from the light.

  Elizabeth’s parting words were, “Whatever you do, don’t take it off.”

  “What? Don’t take what off? Wait. How will I know who my mentor is? Elizabeth!”

  3

  Jake Murdoch didn’t mind the snowstorm. He’d grown up in St. Louis and was used to its unpredictable weather. Fifty degrees one day, six inches of snow the next. Big deal.

  Nor did he mind filling in for Tom at Cloud Nine, especially in bad weather; in fact, he insisted on it. His neighbor was elderly, had broken his hip last year, and shouldn’t be out in the snow and ice. Jake could make up lost time in his taxi later, when more people were out and about.

  And he could handle the minor—ha!—gas leak in the store. Call a repairman ASAP, open the doors, bad air out, good air in. Should’ve been a piece of cake.

  But he was really pissed off with the outcome: explosion, dense smoke, missing customer. The other woman—her friend—ended up in the same corner as he, so it was a simple matter to grab her by the arm and propel her through the gaping hole that used to be the front door. Now she was standing outside next to him, crying, screaming at the store, at him, at the world in general, he guessed. He never thought he’d be grateful to have his ears ring so loudly that he couldn’t hear someone, but if the view of her tonsils was any indication, she was shrieking loud enough to be heard by everyone else in the state.