A/N: A continuation of the 1943 film "Heaven Can Wait" (NOT several other films with the same title), picking up immediately after the events of the film.


Heaven Can't Wait Forever

His Excellency watched the up arrow on the elevator light and turned to get back to his desk. Taking Henry Van Cleve's life book, he placed it on a cart for a minion to take away later. There weren't any other books on the cart - it was seldom that a soul arrived in Down Here only to be refused entrance and sent Above. He returned to his desk and was just about to sit when he heard a 'Ding' at the elevator. He turned and was just able to see into the alcove and watch the doors open. The elevator attendant popped out looking confused.

"What is it Albert?" His Excellency called from across the room. There were seldom any surprises as boss of this place; for the most part his visitors' final destination was already assured and their visits were only a courtesy before being assigned their eternal places.

"It's M-M-Mr. Van Cleve, sir. They sent him back down," the man said to his boss.

"Back Down? Mr. Van Cleve?" he asked, astonished. He met so few of the new arrivals, and of course none of them left after arriving. Now the first one that ever did had returned almost immediately.

"Yes, sir."

"How extraordinary!" The well-dressed man left his desk again and crossed over to the elevator. Inside, he could see an older man, cane in hand, leaning against the side of the elevator car. "Mr. Van Cleve - are you alright?"

The seventy-year old man slowly exited the elevator, although the speed could be attributed to both his age and the shock that showed on his face. "I'm not quite sure. It seems I got my hopes up prematurely, but I suppose it was the chance to see Martha again that made me hope unrealistically. It looks like you'll have to take me after all, Your Excellency."

"Mr. Van Cleve, words fail me at a time like this - there simply is no precedent. Please, come back to my desk and let us review what's happened." The large man with the devilish good looks led Henry back to the spacious room with his desk. He gestured for Henry to sit in one of the upholstered chairs while he leaned against his desk near him. "Tell me - what did they say?"

"Certainly you know."

"Quite the contrary. I'm not privy to business...up there," he said while pointing his finger upwards. "Please, tell me."

"Well...I got off of the elevator - the attendant was quite nice - and walked up to a small gate. I was expecting something immense and built of shimmering pearl or gold, but this was a simple garden gate. A man who had been working the roses stood up and brushed himself off before asking who I was. I, naturally, told him my name. He apologized for not knowing it, and fumbled around in his gardening apron until he found a small notebook that he went through page by page. 'Sorry, you are not on the list. I am afraid you are not allowed in.' I could see that he had searched the notebook carefully, so I didn't ask him to check again. I went back to the elevator and rang the bell and now I'm here again."

"I see." The host walked over to the cart to find it empty. "It seems my staff is actually a little too efficient today - they've gone and stored your record." He returned to his desk and made a quick call on the telephone before hanging up. "Someone will bring it in shortly. I do have the ability to pop out to where it's located and pop back again, but I find that it unnerves my visitors nearly as much as if I showed my true form. That isn't much of a concern compared to what they will be enduring shortly after their visit, but in your case I would like to speak with you while you have your wits about you."

"Maybe they just made a mistake," Henry suggested.

"Who, Them?" he said while casting his eyes upward. "Not likely, but nothing you told me suggests that you have the...shall we say, character...to be among those Down Here. I take it everything you told me was truthful?"

"Oh, of course. I was quite the lady's man before and after Martha. A Casanova, if you will, although I wasn't fond of the term. My intentions were always honorable, if somewhat short-enduring."

"Yes, your love and devotion to your wife was quite evident - it was she who probably saved you from a permanent residence here by reforming your character when you were younger. But beyond the completely understandable attempts for companionship, surely there must have been some other vices you left out. Gambling your life savings away at some point, perhaps?"

"No, never that. In my younger days I did indulge in the occasional game of cards, but I never gambled more than I was prepared to lose. I can't say that was the case of the people I played against, mind you."

"Naturally - nor was it your place to be caretaker of their wallets. Perhaps you were too much into your cups, then?" His Excellency asked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm sorry, that was probably used before your time. Were you given to strong drink?"

"Once again, a bit in my youth. I made it a point to observe moderation once I had met Martha, and the habit stayed with me. I did allow myself a few nips on my birthday," Henry admitted with a smile.

"I don't blame you - it only comes once a year, right? Of course time doesn't really have any meaning Down Here, or Up There for that matter. You seem fit, so I don't think that gluttony was an issue. You are most well-mannered and you seemed very good-natured about your presumed fate, so I think we can count out wrath."

"I certainly saw my share of chorus girls in the day."

"Yes, but once again you were quite faithful to your wife while she was alive. Any other dalliances before or after can be chalked up to loneliness, I think, and not lust. You seem quite willing to discuss your shortcomings, so I detect no harmful amount of pride."

"What about envy? I did steal my wife away from cousin Albert. That didn't make Mr. and Mrs. Strabel too happy, and I'm sure Albert was a bit put out as well."

"Ah, but it was ultimately Martha's choice whom to marry. It was, after all, nearly the twentieth century - and she was an adult. You went to great lengths to get her back, something no slothful person would do."

Henry counted on his fingers. "That leaves greed, to round out that list of seven from which you are measuring. And I was greedy, I admit it - greedy for her love, so much so that I changed my life. Surely that can be counted against me."

"Love that is given freely cannot be received greedily. I'm sorry, but that certainly doesn't count. You certainly didn't hold on to your money when you tried to buy off Peggy Nash from being courted by your son. Of course he was ready to end it anyway, but it shows that you were willing to spend it on others besides yourself. You never mentioned killing anyone..."

"I never!" Henry interjected.

"...and nearly everyone lies at some point, if no more than to save the feelings of others or delude themselves. Now Mr. Van Cleve, please understand me when I say that for a man who doesn't belong here I like you very much. You have no outstanding character traits that would put you in good company with those that...ah...find themselves here. Quite frankly, I'm at a loss as to what to do." He started rubbing his temple, an odd gesture for such a creature.

"If you're at a loss, consider how I feel. This IS the first time I've ever faced my fate," Henry conceded.

"That's the way the system is set up. But I...oh, here it comes," His Excellency said as an assistant came down the stairs and handed him the large oversized book he was carrying. "Thank you, you may go," he told the assistant who popped out of existence. When Henry gasped, he apologized. "My regrets, force of habit. Let me look over your book again. Hmm. Uh huh. Yes. I see."

"What?" Henry asked. "Do I stay here, or do I have to go haunt someone or keep them from making a terrible decision?"

"No, nothing like that. We don't do the haunting thing, really - we let guilt take care of it for us. No, according to this, you were a borderline case. It would seem that what tipped the scales, as it were, was your sincere acceptance of your worst-case fate and the contrition you showed. I don't wish to trivialize your fate, but it sort of...'fell through the cracks' I believe is how they say it now. Furthermore, even if I wanted to keep you I can't - I've already said you can't stay here and I'm bound by that statement."

"So I escaped judgement?"

"No, but the judge took pity on your case - if you want to put it into those terms. It's a bit more complicated than that, but I find it distasteful to talk about; I trust you understand."

"I suppose," Henry agreed. "You mean it has to do with..."

"Please don't say His name. Yes."

"Perhaps if you just sent me back to the living. Maybe in the place of somebody who just died?"

His Excellency just shook his head. "This isn't some gimmicky story, Mr. Van Cleve - this is real. We don't engage in cheap parlor tricks, and neither does He. No, you will go back Up again."

"What's to keep them from sending me back down?"

"That is a very good point." The host drummed his fingers on the desk for a moment.

"Perhaps you could give them a call?"

His Excellency laughed. "Oh Mr. Van Cleve, surely you jest! My phone service doesn't extend Up There - and I doubt very much if they'd take my call, if you know what I mean. No, it has to be something else. Hmm. I know!" he said, snapping his fingers. He picked up the book and handed it to Henry. "Take this with you. They can read it for themselves and see that you don't really belong here. I suppose it really doesn't belong in our files."

Henry opened the book but the contents were complete gibberish. "What is this?"

"Your life, of course. Oh, you can't read it - it's written in a special way to capture everything you did in life. A special language, if you will, that can't be forged or altered. But there will be people up there who can read it and it will prove your story. Now if you would, Mr. Van Cleve, let's get you back on that elevator and on your way again. I'd like to thank you very much, this case has proven to be the most fun I've had since...well, we don't need to get into that." He led Henry back to the elevator and ushered him in where Albert was waiting. "Once more, Albert. This time should be for good. Good luck, Mr. Van Cleve - but I don't think you'll have to rely on it. And if there's any problem, no doubt your grandfather will have a say in the matter! Now hurry along, Heaven can't wait forever you know."

The elevator doors closed and this time His Excellency waited until it return with just Albert. "How extraordinary," he repeated as he returned to his desk.

The End


A/N: A delightful movie concerning manners and morals before the 1900s while treading lightly on theological grounds (let's not proper names for the Dark One) with some sharp dialogue to boot. I found later that the director was also responsible for Ninotchka, The Shop Around the Corner and the original To Be or Not To Be.