I think I've died and gone to heaven

The crisp mountain air of Cache Valley, once Arthur Pendelton’s sanctuary, now carried a different kind of heat, a languid, simmering warmth that had nothing to do with the summer sun and everything to do with the lingering echo of his recent, and rather scandalous, romantic pursuits. He found himself, much to Emily’s amused exasperation, still drawn to the vicinity of Logan Regional Hospital, though his visits were now purely observational, a habit ingrained from a different lifetime. He’d seen the male nurses, the doctors, the lab techs, their crisp uniforms doing little to conceal the powerful physiques beneath, and his heart, at sixty-six, still did a little jig. He’d catch himself imagining them, shirts off, sweat glistening on their tanned skin, perhaps in the sweltering heat of a desert sun, and a familiar flush would creep up his neck. A cold glass of water, he’d murmur to himself, a ritualistic defense against the unexpected surge of desire.

One sweltering afternoon, while enjoying a leisurely drive through the valley, he spotted a familiar ambulance parked near a small, picturesque park. Curiosity, a trait that had once led him down a rather convoluted path, tugged at him. He pulled over, his heart giving a familiar, if now more controlled, flutter. He saw a young man, broad-shouldered and lean, his dark hair damp with sweat, expertly maneuvering a stretcher. He was undeniably handsome, his movements fluid and strong. Arthur’s breath hitched. Then, another figure emerged from the ambulance – a young woman, her uniform a stark white against her sun-kissed skin. Her hair was pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, and her eyes, even from a distance, sparkled with an intelligence that Arthur found instantly captivating. He recognized her, of course, a new nurse he’d heard whispers about, a colleague of Emily’s.

As the ambulance crew attended to a minor call involving a scraped knee from a child’s tumble, Arthur found himself drawn closer, a silent observer. He watched the male nurse, his brow furrowed in concentration, gently speaking to the tearful child. Then, he saw the young woman, the nurse, kneel down, her voice a soft melody, asking the child if she could listen to his heart. The child, instantly soothed, nodded. Arthur’s own heart gave a decidedly unscientific lurch. He imagined her voice, a silken whisper, asking him the same question. *May I listen to your heart?* The thought sent a shiver down his spine, a delicious tremor that had nothing to do with age and everything to do with the potent allure of caring, capable hands and voices that soothed both child and, apparently, a retired adventurer. He leaned against his car, a faint smile playing on his lips. Oh, why did they have to be so incredibly good-looking? Why did his mind, even in the quiet heat of a Cache Valley afternoon, insist on conjuring such vivid, steamy scenarios? He felt the familiar prickle of heat on his skin, a sensation that had nothing to do with the sun and everything to do with the sheer, undeniable attractiveness of the people who dedicated their lives to healing. He reached for the water bottle in his cup holder, a familiar sigh escaping his lips. Yes, he thought, he’d definitely died and gone to heaven. And it was a very, very good-looking heaven.