When Heaven Calls

By Courtney Stackhouse

When Heaven Calls is about mystery, sex, the power to heal, the ability to fly, and the consequences of not loving another. The story has two characters, Gregor and Sheila, who each have lived their lives without finding a way to connect to anyone except through their "art." When these two finally meet each other, a kindred bond is formed, but will it last?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sakura Publishing
• Release date: Jan 13, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301204069

Courtney Stackhouse

Courtney Stackhouse is a debut novelist out of Washington DC. She went to undergrad at Oberlin College where she had the privilege of having writer Dan Chaon as a professor. She has chased adventure cross-country a few times, but is currently settled in Silver Spring, MD where she is earning a degree in publishing.

Book preview

When Heaven Calls

By Courtney Stackhouse

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Smashwords Edition

When Heaven Calls

Copyright © 2013 by Courtney Stackhouse

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Sakura Publishing in 2013. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the address below.

Sakura Publishing

PO BOX 1681

Hermitage, PA 16148

www.sakura-publishing.com

Ordering Information:

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or visit www.sakura-publishing.com.

Book Cover and Interior Design by Rania Meng

Second Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

About The Author

CHAPTER 1

Gregor awoke from a disturbing dream to answer the ringing phone. Hello? His voice was thin and weak.

Greg? It was Emily’s voice. Gregor, I need to talk to you. Can you meet me at the coffee shop in fifteen?

Yeah, he coughed. Yeah, sure.

He set the receiver on its cradle and tried to remember what his dream had been about, but the more he chased it, the faster in ran away, disappearing around corners just before he caught hold. He shook his head and got up to splash cold water on his face. He looked into the medicine cabinet mirror, meeting his own dark eyes, swiping a few locks of his black hair away from his pale face. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, and he ran a hand against his dark stubble. He glanced at his razor but decided against using it. Emily had once said she liked the feel of his stubble on her stomach. He smiled only to check his teeth for stains and then left his apartment without brushing them.

The coffee shop was at a mid-point between his and Emily’s apartments. He got there early and waited, as Emily was always late. He opened his drawing ledger and looked at his most recent sketch of her.

She had wings.

He ordered a mint tea and sipped quietly, hands cupped around the mug. By the time Emily walked up, the rain had started to fall. She came in and sat down, the rain having brought her honey-blonde hair down to a shade of brown.

Hi, baby, he murmured and leaned across the table to kiss her, but she stopped him.

Gregor, I need to talk to you.

He brushed his hair out of his face and looked up at her. What’s up?

I don’t think we have a healthy relationship.

Gregor blinked at her, his hands still cupping his tea. What do you mean?

We never talk. All we ever do is fuck. We go to the movies, and we fuck. Do you think that’s a healthy relationship? Her blue eyes sparked in emotion, and he was enveloped in them.

I… I just don’t talk very much. I don’t think that can be an indication of our relationship.

You’ve got great qualities, Gregor, but you bury them so deep. If you could just come to the surface once in a while... she shook her head, looking down at his hands, closing hers around his as he still clutched his tea, which was growing colder. Maybe we could have worked something out, but I need more.

I’ll try harder, he whispered. I’ll try to be social. I’ll try to be more spontaneous… I’ll - I’ll try not to cuddle.

I stopped hoping for change, Gregor. You are who you are, and I can’t change that. I don’t want to. She stood up, shouldering her bag. You’re going to make someone very happy one day. It’s just not going to be me. She leaned down and kissed Gregor on the forehead. She then cupped his chin in her hand so she could look down into his face. She hesitated a moment, then kissed his lips one last time.

When Gregor opened his eyes, Emily was gone.

*

Gregor wandered in the rain. He hadn’t brought an umbrella since it hadn’t been raining when he’d left the apartment, and the rain settled through his hair and into his mouth, tasting like a bitter mixture of the sea and his shampoo. He walked onto the highway, slogging through the mud on the soft shoulder until he took the first exit ramp and started toward the overlook.

The overlook was where he always went to think. This time of day, it was often very populated, but the rain had driven most anyone indoors. Gregor didn’t mind the rain; it soothed him somehow. He followed the path through the woods, stepping off to pass the moss-covered rock, the crooked tree that looked like gallows, until he came upon his grass-slicked glen. Seated on a fallen log, he stared out over the city, his knuckles scraping idly against his teeth. He turned the facts over in his mind, mixing them, spilling them out, and trying to make sense of it all. But he could not. He hadn’t changed. Emily had loved him as he was once, so how could she just stop, just like that?

Gregor had drawn her a thousand times. He could reconstruct her face at will, though he couldn’t even remember exactly what his mother looked like. He plucked Emily’s picture from his sketch pad, smearing the angel wings with one wet finger. Then he stood, walked to the edge of the cliff, and dropped it over the side. It floated, swirled, chaotically grabbing and losing the wind as it drifted down into the misting rain to disappear.

The thought occurred to him rapidly. There was little he stayed for. He wrote, and no one read; he drew, and no one saw; he worked, but no one cared.

And then there was Emily.

She was radiant, beautiful, and he lived to make her smile. He’d never taken any photos of her, and he burned every sketch the moment he created a new one. Gregor leaned over the ledge, squinting, searching for the picture. It had faded from sight, though the pain he believed he’d feel, the anxiety, it washed in like a gentle wave, lapping lightly, ebbing quickly, leaving him feeling completely numb and empty. He was nothing – nothing more than a shell without emotions, hang-ups, or a future. Gregor turned his face up to the sky, closing his eyes as the rain washed his face, feeling lighter than air.

When he opened his eyes, he blinked away the mixture of tears and rain and looked down. It took a moment to focus on the ground past his boots, as his feet were suspended a few inches from the ground. Oh, God, he breathed, his breath streaming out in a visible burst. He looked around himself. There was nothing to cling to, to keep himself from floating away. He lost his balance, falling backwards and instinctively shifting his footing to try to catch himself. It was almost like he was on solid ground, the reaction righting him, the air beneath his feet feeling like he was walking on a trampoline.

Gregor shimmied his body a little, and he bobbed in the air, not rising anymore, not falling either. He smiled, chuckled, and laughed out loud. Elation!

And then it all came crashing down. The rubber band on which he floated snapped, and he was again at one with gravity. He gripped the wet grass, tearing out clumps. He tossed them over the edge of the cliff. Why had he been given such a gift only to have it taken away so quickly? And more importantly, how could he get it back?

CHAPTER 2

Leila Matthews rolled over in bed and picked up her cell phone on the second ring. How may I service you today? she asked in a low voice, still husky from sleep.

I need… an escort? The voice came reticently over the receiver, not sure if he really wanted what he asked for.

My name’s Destiny. What’s yours?

I’m Keith.

Where and when do you want me, Keith? He relayed an address, and Leila copied it down in her black notebook. I’ll see you tonight.

Thank you, he said simply and hung up.

Leila put her black notebook away, dropping it into her open messenger bag, and fished out her red one, opening to a blank page. Outside, the day was gray, waiting to split open with rain. The cicadas had been oddly silent today, the humidity and heat likely driving them to seek darker, more remote places to hide out until it cooled down. Leila missed them. Their drone was a sound that reminded her of childhood, of waking up with the sun, throwing open the front door, and collecting all the dead cicada husks she could find. Without the beady red eyes inside, they weren’t so scary, and she kept the husks to remind her that not everything was as it seemed on the outside.

Today, though, there was no singing of the cicadas to wake her – just another call and another job. But at least this one seemed more innocent than other jobs she’d taken. There were times she worried she’d put herself in a situation she couldn’t handle. It hadn’t happened yet, but her insatiable curiosity about the nether-regions of the human psyche was bound to cross her sooner or later. The ad had been easy, placed in the self-help section along with a small picture of herself:

SEX THERAPY, female escort, expert in CLOSURE. Talk about your problems and take your anger out on me.

She’d posted in the paper with few results, and then she placed the ad online and had gotten three calls within twelve hours.

While she was interested in who the clients