Heaven On Earth Read online

  EARLY BIRD BOOKS

  FRESH EBOOK DEALS, DELIVERED DAILY

  LOVE TO READ?

  LOVE GREAT SALES?

  GET FANTASTIC DEALS ON BESTSELLING EBOOKS DELIVERED TO YOUR INBOX EVERY DAY!

  Heaven on Earth

  Constance O’Day-Flannery

  Dear Reader,

  Perhaps within all of us is a spark of something we call destiny, some inner yearning that enables us to bravely push forward each day, sure that something wondrous awaits. Casey O'Reilly has been waiting thirty-one years for hers to make an appearance, and when destiny finally calls she's unprepared.

  Heaven on Earth is the story of a very reluctant heroine, an ordinary woman who experiences an extraordinary love. It began with my own visit to one of my favorite cities, Santa Fe. There is a reason it is known as "The City Different," for there is magic in the air and in the land. Steeped in an ancient culture, it seemed to call to me to write about it, and one day, while sitting on a rock and looking out to the breathtaking mountains as lightning flashed in the distance, I imagined the beginning of the book you are now holding. All I saw was the scene where the hero and heroine meet, yet I was filled with excitement, for I felt I was about to push the boundaries of time travel once again by having not one, but two travelers journeying through time to discover their heroic nature and the magic of love.

  These two characters captured my imagination in Santa Fe, and in the following months, while I wrote, they also entered my heart. I hope you will invite them into yours for a short while and watch as they each discover it's true… there is such a thing as destiny. Maybe we only have to be open to it.

  Kindest regards,

  Constance O’Day

  This one is for the readers,

  those wonderful time travelers

  …

  You know who you are

  Prologue

  Somehow, even though everything in her life seemed at times to point to the opposite, she believed a greater destiny awaited her. She really believed it, yet truthfully, that eternal hope was becoming more difficult to hold on to amid the incessant routine of daily living. She just knew something awaited her, something that would point to her purpose, alter her life, 'cause this just couldn't be all there was… and if this was it… well, she was gonna be pissed.

  Okay, so she was probably working the dullest job in America, in the accounting department of a major soap manufacturer… not exactly excitement and glamour. In her mind's eye she saw what she had left yesterday… the rows upon rows of gray desks, the beige computers sitting precisely at right angles, the stooped shoulders of the workers, mostly women, punching in numbers of cases of soap. Like their very lives depended on how many cases of Sundrifty were ordered that day, increasing the coffers of one of the biggest corporations in the world. She suddenly realized that in the last eight years she had worked her way up to be the head soap drone and number cruncher, and where had it gotten her? Really? A sinking feeling grabbed hold of her stomach. Had she sold her soul for soap? Soap?

  She suddenly found that she couldn't care any longer whether Sundrifty was closing the gap with Tide, or if Mrs. Buttery was beating I Can't Believe It's Butter. It all seemed beyond ridiculous in the greater scheme of things. Sundrifty. Mrs. Buttery. What genius thought up those product names anyway? Was it because she was finally on vacation, away from the office, or was it something more serious than a career slump? What had she done to herself? she wondered as she drove into the setting sun and took a serious inventory of her life.

  She was thirty-one, didn't even own a cat, and had to admit the image of sinking in quicksand crossed her mind at least once a day… and far more on weekends since all her friends were now married and busy. They seemed to look at her as if she was either competition or pathetically left behind, and, quite frankly, acted as though she had some unknown disease. It was called being single, and there were no vaccines or miracle cures in the new millennium for that one. She was out there, drifting aimlessly, on a lonely sea of uncoupled madness. Sheesh, it did sound pathetic, yet how was a woman to meet men in today's crazy world?

  There were on-the-job flirtations that never worked out, and then, feeling rejected, the guy wouldn't talk to you until he found someone else to date. Accountants weren't exactly known for their joie de vivre, and she yearned for someone alive, or at least breathing with some vitality.

  Forget the club scene. It was beyond depressing, especially since she was beginning to feel like a chaperone at a frat party. It all seemed so mindless… but it had been the appearance of the Macarena that had convinced her her club days were definitely finished. As soon as that phenomenon had hit, she'd taken it as a divine sign that her time of being cool was over, way over. Plus, it just took too damn long to pull her act together in front of the mirror now… another sign of aging, she supposed. She adjusted the sunglasses she'd bought at the airport before she began this journey west. Is that what happens when one ages? You just get tired?

  She thought of her home in Pennsylvania. There weren't that many supermarkets to meander through in a town of under twenty thousand, and anyway, it was only the married men who tried to hit on her in the vegetable aisle. There was also only one art gallery in her hometown, and her venture into the creative arts hadn't provided her with a single prospective heterosexual male. What was an intelligent woman to do? How long before her family started fixing her up with strangers, promoting her with that dreaded kiss of death… she's got a great personality?

  Whine, whine, whine, she mentally berated herself, and then thought she was justified as long as she did it silently. She was just about at the end of her rope as far as finding a partner was concerned, and she was tired, tired of looking. She'd quit browsing the mega bookstores when one genius attempted to draw her into conversation by swearing that Noel Coward had been a professional wrestler. She'd almost spit out her mocha cappuccino as she'd disengaged from Mr. Intelligence and vowed to stay home and rent a video before again attempting to find a decent man. Wherever he was, whoever he was, if he even existed at all… he would have to find her. She was through seeking the impossible.

  Casey O'Reilly had surrendered.

  Mountain ranges on both sides of her were illuminated by the setting sun in hues of yellow and brown. Shrubs of white and purple sagebrush, varieties of yucca trees and piñon and juniper, whisked by her view. It was an aromatic warm evening in June and she found relief in the dry air rather than the humid conditions she was used to on the East Coast. There was no need for air-conditioning in the car as she rested her arm out the open window and felt the desert energy enter her pores. A sense of freedom began to invite her onward and she found herself settling comfortably into it.

  Funny the way life turns out, she thought as she drove on. Once upon a time, in a mental land far, far away, she'd actually thought that by the time she had turned twenty-seven she would be happily married, preparing for her first child, and carrying on the societal torch of family values. She almost laughed at herself now. She was four years late and had thrown out the damn schedule.

  Maybe she would spend the rest of her life alone. It really wouldn't be so terrible, she thought as what looked to be a bolt of lightning flashed in the dimming skyline. She wanted a child, though. Really wanted one. That was all she knew, all she'd known ever since she was a little girl. Growing up, she'd gone along with the tenets of the liberated woman, believing she was equal to any male even if he didn't acknowledge it yet. She'd gone on to college and a career and was independent and all that… but the one thing she had always known was that she wanted to be a mother, that her child would be precious and somehow make a difference in the world.

  Probably all women thought that, she surmised
as she drove toward the fading sunset and again thought of being a single mother. Somehow, even though she had given up looking for a mate, she still didn't have the courage to walk into a sperm bank. It seemed too clinical, too cold, and her family would never understand, but she hadn't ruled it out. If being a mother was the only thing she knew for certain that she wanted to do with her life, why should she have to explain to anyone? It wasn't like she was hung up on romance and desperately seeking her hero! Now was the time to be practical.

  The sun had disappeared entirely from its spectacular setting, engulfed by edgeless clouds of ominous blues, grays, and purple. She removed her sunglasses, tossing them onto the passenger seat as her mind continued to wander and she blankly stared into the approaching darkness.

  Where were the heros today, anyway? Seemed to her that all the men who were admired by society were either making billions or shooting baskets, neither of which she considered heroic. She started to think of mythical heros and realized she didn't want a warrior either, too much testosterone. Wasn't a man who remained faithful to his wife, provided for his family, and helped raise his children heroic? In her book he was… he was just already married. Maybe a sperm bank was the way to go after all. Maybe that was why she was making this trip across the country.

  Watching a spectacular light show begin, she suddenly realized she was racing right down the middle of this valley as the lightning slashed at the mountains around her. She mentally began counting… two one thousand, three… yet she found herself wincing at the distant rumble anyway. She began wondering if she was soon going to be driving through rain. Maybe not. Her sister had told her that electrical-heat storms in the desert were common.

  Forcing her mind from the storm and her own life, Casey imagined her sister waiting for her in Santa Fe. She still couldn't believe her younger sister had relocated to the desert from the Northeast, yet Amy had sounded so happy that when she'd invited her to visit, Casey had decided to see for herself what her sister was raving about.

  She kept her eyes riveted on the black highway but sensed the flashes were charging increasingly closer to her. She wished she'd paid closer attention to the weather report on the plane before landing. She didn't recall hearing about any storm. She'd flown into Albuquerque, rented this small car, and headed out into the picturesque desert. Relax, she reminded herself. In less than an hour she would be at her sister's home. She thought at rush hour there would be more cars on the interstate, but she'd only seen a few. Probably everyone knew to wait out the storm and only tourists were crazy enough to venture out into it.

  Thank goodness she was in a car. She had always heard it was safe to be in a car during a storm like this. Just keep driving, her mind encouraged as she rolled the window up and pressed her foot down on the accelerator. She gripped the plastic steering wheel with both hands and glanced into the rearview mirror. She could see a car approaching and noticed the sky was lighter behind her. Great, she was driving into the storm, not outrunning it. She took a deep breath and turned on the radio for some news, maybe a weather report, but all she heard was static and garbled words. She flipped the radio to AM, and it was worse. Okay, music. She needed some music to calm her nerves and fumbled in her purse for the Walkman she'd used on the long plane ride. Her fingers found the case and pulled out the tape. Popping it into the tape player, she settled back and tried to relax as the smooth voice of Jackson Browne filled the interior of the tiny vehicle.

  She knew the words by heart and started singing along. Great lyrics about trusting yourself rang true within her and her voice sang out as the other car passed on her left.

  "Next voice you hear will be your own…"

  She didn't care if she looked like an idiot, all alone and singing her heart out. It always helped when she was nervous. And she was beginning to get really nervous as the lightning increased. It wasn't just one or two streaks, but seven or eight simultaneously exploding all around the desert floor. Noticing the red running lights of the car speeding in front of her, Casey turned on her headlights and was glad that she could follow someone into the darkness. She could barely make out the distant mountains on either side of her now.

  At once, a streak of brilliant white light exploded almost on top of her and Casey jerked in fright as the road and everything around her seemed to reverberate in response.

  "Next voice you hear," she sang louder with emotion, as her head bobbed in time to the music, "next voice you hear, the next voice you hear will be your own… Shit!"

  A loud thump suddenly hit the front of the car, and instantly she began fighting the violent shaking of the steering wheel as the car swerved sharply to the right. Automatically releasing the accelerator and using both hands to counteract the motion, she pulled and pulled to the left until her arms ached. A rhythmic thudding became louder as the car slowed and she was reminded of a flat tire. With much effort, she managed to pull the car to the side of the road. Once off the highway, she let go of the wheel, slammed the transmission into park, and pulled up on the emergency brake lever.

  Stunned, she collapsed against the seat and stared out the front windshield. What the hell was she going to do now? She didn't have a cell phone to call for help and there wasn't another car in sight. Rubbing her hands to get circulation back into them, she figured she would just sit in the car and wait until someone came. She fumbled around with the steering column until she found the hazard lights and then sat back and finally allowed the tension to leave her body.

  "The next voice you hear will be your own…"

  "Oh, shut up," she snapped at the tape, and turned off the car. Really, what could she do? This was a rental car and she hadn't a clue how to change the tire and she certainly wasn't about to get out in the middle of a lightning storm to try and figure it out. Looking into the rearview mirror again, Casey caught her bottom lip between her teeth and wondered whether another car would come by soon—and how she would flag it down.

  Damn, maybe she should get out and check the car. What if she hit something? She couldn't see anything in the road behind her, but it was getting dark and if she was going to help herself, she ought to begin before total darkness descended. Opening the tiny glove compartment, she pulled out the car's manual and turned on the overhead lights. She flipped through the pages until she saw the illustration for inserting the jack. Okay, she could do this, she thought… when another assault of lightning torched the sky, and thunder roared in its wake.

  Shaking with fright, Casey didn't know how long she could just sit alone in the little car. How long did these electrical storms last? What if no one came? She couldn't remain out here in the desert alone. She didn't even have a flashlight, so if she was going to attempt to change the tire, maybe she'd better do it soon. But she was scared.

  Be brave, she told herself. It would only take a second… She could run out and check the damage. Maybe it wasn't a flat tire at all. Maybe she had struck something and all she needed to do was clear it away… and maybe she was grasping at straws. Perhaps patience wasn't one of her strong suits, but just sitting around didn't seem to be helping anything.

  Every time she worked up the courage to open the car door, another intense round of body-pounding sound and blinding light surrounded the vehicle, as though warning her to stay within its shelter. Okay, she was safe here because the tires were rubber, so even if the car were hit by lightning, she should be all right as long as she wasn't touching anything metal. That was what she'd heard anyway. Plus, staying in the car right now seemed the smartest move.

  Again she looked in the rearview mirror and sighed with disappointment at the darkness behind her. She felt the beginnings of despair descend upon her like a heavy, sodden blanket, and her eyes were stinging. No sense in crying now. It wouldn't help. Damn, she should have just spent the extra money and rented a midsize car. At least she wouldn't be in this stupid plastic model that had fallen apart less than twenty minutes after she'd left the airport! Amy was going to be worried, and she had no
way to reassure her sister that she was okay, just stranded in the desert in the most incredible lightning storm she had ever seen in her life.

  Breathe, she told herself. Let go of the stress. She could only sit and wait it out… be entertained by the spectacular show of nature. If she weren't so frightened, it would be awesome. How she wished she were with someone, anyone, right now. Five streaks exploded in quick succession around the car, and the ground rolled in retaliation beneath her. She held on to the steering wheel, twisting her fingers around it tightly, as though the action might stop her mounting fear. It didn't, and the hair on her body seemed to rise of its own will as a weird energy entered her body. It was the storm. It had to be.

  A light caught her eye and she looked with hope once more into the rearview mirror. Two lights! A car! Someone was coming! Relief swept through her while at the same time her mind seemed to yell at her to get out and stand in front of the car to wave the driver down. Now terrified of the lightning directly above her, Casey admitted to herself she was even more scared of being alone, so she gripped the door handle and whispered aloud, "You can do this. You have to do this. Do it!"

  In one swift act of courage, Casey O'Reilly opened the car door and stepped into the unknown, into the dark and terrifying night, just as a most brilliant, powerful streak of light enveloped her in a blinding, searing heat that swept through her body with incredible force, taking her beyond the car, beyond the road… beyond anything she had ever imagined.

  He cautiously eased his pickup truck behind the red compact that had just been encircled with a blazing iridescent crash of lightning. Letting out his breath, he slowly opened the door, stepped to the ground, and made his way to the vehicle. In the illumination from the truck's lights, he saw the open car door and a blue leather shoe on the ground, and he heard the rhythmic ping signaling that the keys were still in the ignition. No one was inside.