Beyond the Blue Read online

  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  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 Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Two Years Later

  Bella Books

  Synopsis

  Numbers rule Dr. Mei Sharpe’s life. She has no husband, one friend, two daughters, and three random meetings with the same woman within four weeks. Once is chance, twice is coincidence, but upon the third meeting, even Mei in all her empirical rigidness must admit that perhaps the universe is giving her a nudge. A nudge that lands her directly in the path of Lieutenant Morgan Kelly—an affable, charming detective for the Sheriff Department’s brand-new cold case team working down the hall from Mei’s morgue.

  More golden retriever than hard-boiled detective, Morgan is determined to pull the asocial widow out of her shell. As the icy scientist warms to her cheerful new friend, an irrepressible chemistry develops, and Mei begins to realize she’s perhaps a different number on the Kinsey scale than previously considered.

  As Mei and Morgan struggle with guilt and grief, drama and desires, Mei finds her scientific austerity is no match for the universe and its nudges toward the startling revelation of what her heart really wants.

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  About the Author

  TJ O’Shea is a New Jerseyian by location and a New Yorker by vocation. When not working in the video game industry or writing angsty queer romances, she enjoys playing video games (this time for fun), shouting answers at Jeopardy! reruns, amateurishly baking, spending time with her wife, and singing to their cat.

  Copyright © 2022 by TJ O’Shea

  Bella Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 10543

  Tallahassee, FL 32302

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  First Edition - 2022

  Editor: Heather Flournoy

  Cover Designer: Heather Honeywell

  ISBN: 978-1-64247-343-8

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized print or electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Acknowledgments

  This book came to life on the NJ Transit train back and forth to Manhattan. Over the course of months, for the forty minutes of solitude between work and home, the characters of Mei and Morgan told me their story. I’m honored and grateful to have this novel published, and cannot thank enough the many folks who put in the time to get this story out there. Thank you to Bella Books for not only publishing the novel, but also their support and the community of writers whose world I can’t believe I’m a part of. My editor Heather, to whom I owe a great amount of thanks for shaping this novel into something worth reading, and for her humor, encouragement, and kindness. To anyone and everyone who’s read something I’ve written and offered their feedback, I appreciate you. And of course, my wife, who is the best beta reader around despite her egregious bias.

  Dedication

  To my wife, without whom this book would not have happened, and more importantly, would not have been worth it.

  Chapter One

  Chunky, stupid snowflakes dropped from chunky, stupid clouds and piled upon the other chunky, stupid snowflakes blanketing Mei’s car. Though her windshield wipers bravely fought the hellish white onslaught it was a Sisyphean task, as the snow impeded her vision regardless of their efforts. Trembling hands turned down the heat as she waited on the side of the desolate highway. No other soul would brave this sudden blizzard, especially on Valentine’s Day. Having agreed only to an early dinner with her daughter’s family, Mei expected to be home before the worst of the snow set in. She would be curled in front of her fireplace already had her tire not taken this most auspicious occasion to pop, flatten, and force her to stop, thus placing her directly in the path of the snowstorm and its chunky, stupid snow.

  Because, of course, the universe would punish her for brushing off what used to be Allan’s favorite holiday. Marrying a hopeless romantic was an eye-opening experience for someone whose parents barely knew each other prior to their wedding day. Allan never needed a special occasion or corporate holiday to be romantic, but he could not contain his excitement for the kitsch and camp of Valentine’s Day. Over thirty years it became a tradition for Mei to spoil Allan on Valentine’s Day, and though she wasn’t inclined toward romantic overtures, she did her best.

  On this second Valentine’s Day without him, her eldest daughter insisted Mei drive out to her suburban home for dinner assuming she would otherwise sit at home, melancholic and pathetic. Normally Mei would decline the invitation, but the more she declined the more insistent her daughters became about her attendance on these superfluous holidays. The more insistent they became, the more they visited unannounced or scheduled lunches to make sure Mei hadn’t dissolved into a puddle of human remains.

  Now she regretted giving in to Grace’s demands as she sat on the side of the highway, in the middle of a blizzard, her tire flat against the asphalt. Roadside assistance insisted they were on their way, but no doubt predictably busy and reluctant to send a mechanic in the midst of this torrential snow. Keeping the heat as low as she could stand, Mei tried to reserve her car’s gas and battery, wrapping her head in a thick wool gaiter. A glimmer of hope in the form of a pair of headlights passed in the other direction, but they did not belong to a truck. Simply another fool out in this damnable weather, though Mei envied them their mobility.

  Not long after that car passed, two yellow lights shone behind her, refracted in the snowflakes. As the car crunched through the freshly fallen snow, it surprised her to see it did not belong to a tow truck, but rather a two-door sedan. Grabbing the emergency safety hammer from her center console, Mei waited as the figure approached her. She was not about to be murdered on top of all the other inconveniences this night wrought.

  The stranger knocked on the window. Mei clenched her hammer and rolled the window down about an inch. “I’m fine.”

  She rolled it back up and the person knocked again.

  This t
ime, she rolled it down two inches. “I have called for help, thank you,” she stated in a tone she thought stern, and rolled the window up.

  They knocked again.

  Mei tightened her grip on the hammer and rolled the window all the way down.

  It was a woman. Too dark to tell what she looked like, but Mei did see a smiling face tucked between a wool beanie and scarf. “Is everything okay?”

  She nodded as the flakes began falling into her vehicle, onto the conditioned leather. “Yes. My car has a flat. I called my roadside assistance.”

  Glancing left and right down the quiet highway, she inquired, “How long ago did you call?”

  Already too many questions for Mei’s liking. “Thirty minutes. It’s fine, I imagine they’re busy.”

  “Yeah, I bet,” she replied. “Do you have a spare tire in the trunk?”

  Allan’s fastidious nature in regard to car ownership meant the spare tire remained inflated and in good condition. Mei hadn’t bothered with it in the last two years. “I believe so.”

  “All right. I have a jack in my car. I can get that changed out for you in no time.”

  Mei blinked in astonishment. Noticing the snow falling into her vehicle, the woman used a gloved hand to wipe the snow from the car door out into the highway. “Why?”

  Pulling her scarf up by her chin, the woman narrowed her eyes. “Why? Why would you ask me why?”

  “Because we’re in snowstorm and you are a stranger. How do I know you won’t use your altruism as an excuse to lure me out of my vehicle for malignant purposes?”

  “You know what? That’s fair. It is a total serial killer move. Like a reverse Ted Bundy.” This made Mei chuckle unexpectedly as the woman graciously stepped away from her car. “Roadside is gonna take a while. I’m not comfortable leaving you here alone, but if you don’t want me to change your tire, I understand. I can wait in my car until roadside arrives.”

  A generous offer considering the conditions. Mei released the hammer and placed it on the passenger seat. “I would hate for you to be on the ground in this weather.”

  “Better than you freezing out here for the next hour, I’d think,” she responded, jamming her hands in her pockets. “I can change the tire in a few minutes.”

  Mei should drive her car right to an asylum for taking up this stranger on her offer, but at least it wasn’t a man. “Okay. Thank you. It’s the rear left tire.”

  “Sure thing.” Turning on her heel, she trotted back to her car. Mei turned off her engine and reluctantly stepped out into the harsh weather to open her trunk as well. Upon her return, the woman whistled and dropped her duffel bag next to them. “Wow, that is the cleanest trunk I’ve ever seen. Are you sure you’re not the serial killer?”

  It was bare—a bag of emergency supplies tucked neatly into one corner, a first aid kit in the other, the rest a flat expanse of freshly vacuumed thin carpet. “If I were a serial killer I wouldn’t be foolish enough to transport a body in my own trunk.”

  The woman paused, giving Mei a strange, amused smile. “I feel like I should’ve been the one with the emergency hammer,” she remarked. Lifting the carpet and the false bottom, the woman tugged the tire out of its place. She rolled it to the left and knelt down next to the offending wheel. Using a palm-sized flashlight, she lit the tire and searched it. “Oh, there it is. Looks like you caught a nail. Not surprising on this highway. If it’s not construction materials, it’s a pothole.”

  Mei retrieved her emergency blanket from the bag and laid it on the ground. “Here. I don’t want you catching your death out here because of the state’s inability to use my taxpayer money correctly.”

  “Boy, you said it.” Kneeling on the blanket, the woman started her work loosening the lug nuts on the tire. “So, what are you doing out so late on Valentine’s Day? Hot date? Or, cold date?”

  Mei snickered, taking up a position next to the tire leaning on her car. “No, no. I had dinner with my daughter and my grandchildren.”

  “Oh, nice. Sounds like a good time. Although, you did leave in the middle of a blizzard, so maybe not.”

  “In my defense, I left before the blizzard started. And it would’ve been fine if not for that pesky nail.” The woman wiped snow from beneath the vehicle, then placed a piece of wood down. She put the jack on top and began cranking the car up. Mei had observed Allan do this at least once or twice and it took such considerable strength. It duly impressed Mei how effortless this woman made it look. Three cheers for feminism. “What about you? Spending the night perched atop a gargoyle, waiting to rescue those in need?”

  This made the woman laugh heartily, and Mei smiled. “Totally. I forgot my mask and cape in the car.” Pulling the tire off the car, she set it aside and brushed her hands off. “Uh, I actually am on a date. A blind date. Well, it was a blind date, but we’ve seen each other by now. So, a regular date.”

  “Oh no. I’m so sorry, I never would’ve asked you to do this if I’d known.” Glancing to her left, Mei barely made out the shape of a person in the passenger seat of this woman’s car.

  “You didn’t ask. I offered,” the woman replied. “And it’s fine. What kind of person gets mad at someone for doing a favor?” Mounting the spare tire, she took to tightening the lug nuts.

  “I suppose that’s fair. This is far and beyond a favor, though. Changing a tire in a snowstorm for a stranger is rather extreme.”

  “Nah, it’s not. Any decent person would do it.” Not a consistent truth in Mei’s experience, but she remained mute. “Besides, between you and me, this date is a disaster. In fact, sitting on this blanket talking to you is the most fun I’ve had all night.”

  Mei put her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. “Blind dates are the worst, aren’t they?”

  “They truly and deeply are. Would you mind?” Taking off her jacket, the woman handed it to Mei and lowered the jack. Underneath, the woman wore a mauve blazer, the sleeves of which she shoved up before tightening the lug nuts again, with much more effort. The coat in Mei’s hands smelled wonderful, like wood and citrus. “It’s not my style. I’d rather go on a date with someone I have a connection with, you know? And I know instantly if there is one. I don’t feel it with her.” Placing the tools into her bag, the woman stood and brought the blanket up with her. “Plus, it’s Valentine’s Day, so there’s all sorts of weird expectations to be romantic with someone you just met. I don’t know a whole lot about love, but I do know it’s not something you’re given. It is something you earn.”

  Shaking out the snow, she folded the blanket and stuck it back in the trunk. Mei handed over her jacket. “I have to say I agree. Though I suppose a gallant roadside rescue in this incredible snow is rather romantic. Perhaps your date will think so.”

  Scrunching her face, she slid her jacket back on. “Is it terrible if I say I hope not?”

  Mei snickered. “My lips are sealed.”

  The woman hefted the bag over her shoulder, brushing snow from her pants. “She was rude to the valet and our waiter. That’s a hard no for me. I’m trying to keep an open mind, but I can’t stand when people are discourteous for no reason.”

  “No, I’m sure the sort of magnanimous person who interrupts a date to help a total stranger in a blizzard is not turned on by boorishness,” Mei said, though the term stranger bothered something in the back of her mind.

  Apparently reading her mind, the woman took off her glove and extended her hand. “Well, who says we have to be strangers? I’m Morgan.”

  “Mei,” she replied, taking her hand and shaking it. They stood, hands clasped, as film-ready snow fell from the sky. A dying wind allowed a gentle stream of flakes to cascade around them. Mei withdrew her hand, shivering. “I’ll let you get back to your date. Thank you again.”

  Morgan stared at her, unmoving. Suddenly, she shook her head and blinked a few times. “Right, anytime. We
ll, anytime, but hopefully not again when it’s below zero. Anyway, get home safe. Don’t drive too fast on the spare, okay? And you can’t go very far on it.”

  “I won’t transport any dead bodies across state lines, scout’s honor,” she promised, grinning behind her scarf. “Have a good night.”

  “Yeah. You too.”

  Less impeded by snow, Mei eyed the irate woman in the passenger seat with her arms crossed, glaring daggers at her through the windshield. Morgan waved as she got into the car, and Mei waved back.

  She slid into her driver’s seat, grateful for the meager warmth. As she watched Morgan’s brake lights fade into the distance, a feeling crossed between déjà vu and premonition came over her. Mei did not consider herself sensitive to the inner workings of the universe, preferring to plant herself directly in her beloved sciences, but her otherwise methodical brain entreated she remember this unspectacular moment. Like a late-night As Seen On TV advertisement, the universe insisted: wait, there’s more.

  The wind picked up, bending snow-covered trees toward the road. Whatever the universe was trying to say, it had to wait. Mei could not rely on two good Samaritans in one night. Shaking herself from a trance, she locked her seat belt and maneuvered her car carefully back onto the white highway.

  Chapter Two

  Downstairs, the mechanical whir and drip of the coffeemaker rattled loud enough to rouse Mei from slumber, bleary eyes blinked at the clock on the other nightstand. A soft, green 5:00 a.m. greeted her. Today, an unusual blip interrupted her usual morning routine of skincare and business-casual dress: an invitation to spin class. Turning away from a closet of gray and blue blazers and slacks, she rummaged through her dresser drawer filled with neatly folded piles of athletic wear. Not a lot to choose from—her athletic regimen was limited to the home gym in her basement and somewhat weekly jogging—so she nabbed a black-on-black ensemble of athletic shorts and a tank top, complete with what she thought to be a fanciful stripe of mint green down the hem. Compiling a simple outfit for work, she hung it in a garment bag and swiped her phone from the nightstand. Eyes on her phone, she descended the stairs, following the aroma of dark blend. Only a few emails, Mei noted with relief, all of which could wait for a response until she got into the office.