by Cindy Kirk
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Jake said now, shaking his head in disgust. “They think all they have to do is say they’re sorry.”
“I knew you’d understand.” Tom sighed and collapsed into his desk chair.
Jake picked up the paper and tried to give it back, but Tom waved it away. “Read it. It’s good for a laugh.”
Reluctantly, Jake unwrapped the ball, flattening it smooth with the palm of his hand. The writing was clear, written in easily readable print.
“Read it aloud.”
Jake shook his head. “I don’t—”
“Read it,” Tom said sharply. The wild look once again filled the man’s eyes.
If Jake was going to calm his friend down, it appeared he had no choice but to do as Tom asked.
Jake cleared his throat.
Dear Mr. Jorgens,
This letter is long overdue. I haven’t written before because I didn’t know what to say.
Tom snorted and Jake paused, but Tom impatiently motioned for him to continue.
I still don’t know what to say except I’m sorry. If I could exchange places with your wife I’d do it. I had no business getting behind that wheel and trying to drive home. With that one reckless action I deprived your wife of her life and you of her companionship and love. I also deprived my own wife and daughter of a husband and father for these past two years.
I deeply regret my actions that night and will carry the guilt with me until the day I die. I hope that one day you will find it in your heart to forgive me.
Sincerely,
John Andrews
The simple words rang true and unexpectedly touched a chord in Jake’s heart.
“Can you believe it?” Tom raked his sweat-dampened hair back with his hand. “Sincerely, my—”
“Tom.” Jake raised his gaze from the letter. “Maybe the guy really is sorry.”
Visibly stunned at Jake’s response, Tom could only stare.
Jake decided to take advantage of the opportunity. He chose his words quickly but carefully. “You notice he didn’t make any excuses. He’s had two years to think about what he’s done. Everyone makes mistakes.”
“Mistakes!” Tom bellowed so loudly that Jake was surprised the windows didn’t shatter. “The man kills my wife, and you call it a mistake?!”
Jake held out his hand. “Tom, that’s not what I mean and you know it.”
“I thought you of all people would understand.” Tom stood and gripped the edge of the desk. He leaned forward across the surface until he was right in Jake’s face. “So, tell me, Jake. Have you forgiven those two little hoodlums who killed your brother for their ‘mistake’? How are you going to feel when they’re back running the streets?”
The invisible band around his chest tightened another notch. “Drop it, Tom.”
“What’s the matter?” A snarl curved Tom’s lip. “Am I hitting too close to home?”
Shoving his chair back with a clatter, Jake stood. He didn’t have to listen to an obviously irrational man rant and rave. The fact that Tom’s ramblings made some sense was shoved aside. “We’ll talk later. I need to get going.”
When he reached the doorway, Jake couldn’t resist one last backward glance. Tom’s mouth was spread in a thin-lipped smile. His arms were folded across his chest and a knowing expression blanketed his face. This time his voice was calm. “You can’t forgive your brother’s killers any more than I can forgive this drunk.”
Jake jerked the door open.
“Don’t get all high and mighty on me, Jake Weston. We’re two of a kind, you and I.”
Two of a kind.
Jake slammed the door shut.
Tom’s words followed him through the thick wood and echoed in his head all the way down the hall. Tom’s hate-twisted face and empty eyes filled his field of vision.
Once outside, Jake headed for the parking lot. There was no reason to stop at the ball field. His meeting with Tom had taken so long that practice would be long over. He jumped into his Jeep, intending to go straight home. Minutes later, Jake found himself sitting at Big Al’s Burger Palace drive-in, ordering a hamburger and a soda.
How had he ended up here? It was as if the vehicle had had a will of its own. Jake blew out a breath and wondered if there was time to cancel his order. He wasn’t even hungry.
His gaze searched the parking lot for the pony-tailed blond carhop. It stopped abruptly on a familiar low-slung sports car parked in the lot. He recognized Mike Blaine immediately. It took him a few more seconds to recognize Angel Morelli.
Jake tried to quell the anger that was building in him. What was Angel doing with Blaine? What kind of game was she playing now?
The boy was young enough to be her son. Well, maybe not her son, but there was a big difference between an eighteen-year-old kid and a twenty-six-year-old woman. The wave of jealousy that hit Jake nearly took his breath away. Of course, Mike could just be giving her a ride home. Jake knew he should look away, give them their privacy.
But he kept his gaze fixed, even while tossing a few bills on a tray and grabbing his burger and soda from the blonde who’d finally showed up.
The two heads drew closer. Jake narrowed his eyes.
Mike slipped his arm around Angel’s shoulder. A bite of hamburger stuck in Jake’s throat.
Angel’s hand rose and pushed against Mike’s chest. Jake’s hand moved to the door latch.
Suddenly the door on the passenger side of Mike’s car opened. Angel hopped out, her dark hair gleaming in the sunshine.
He swallowed and leaned back against the seat, suddenly exhausted. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the sports car round the corner and disappear in traffic.
“Can I get you anything else, sir?”
He bolted upright at the cocky voice. A slice of pickle felt as if it dropped straight to his lungs.
Jake turned and looked into laughing brown eyes. “Angel!”
Without waiting for an invitation, Angel pranced around the front of the Jeep, opened the door and hopped into the passenger seat. “Give me a ride home?”
With her saucy smile and devil-may-care attitude, the girl looked like an impudent sprite against the cream-colored leather interior. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face in clips and hung in loose curls to her shoulders. Her white cotton shirt was dotted with tiny spring flowers and her short denim skirt barely reached mid-thigh. Today, even Jake found it hard to believe she was a day over eighteen.
“Now, why would I want to do that?” He raised a brow.
“Because.” She smiled. “You’re a good guy.”
“Yeah, right,” he said with a wry grin. “If I was a good guy, I wouldn’t be hanging out here with you.”
He’d meant the words to be a condemnation of himself—a teacher consorting with a supposed student—but the look that skittered across her face told him she had taken it far differently than he’d intended.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“I think I’ll catch a ride with Jarvis.” She reached for the door latch.
“No.” Jake practically shouted the word. Thoughts of her in the same vehicle with Big J sent a chill down his spine. He’d overheard Jarvis bragging in the locker room about his conquests one too many times. “I don’t want you in a car alone with that guy. Understand?”
Angel paused and slowly turned back toward him. Her hand lingered on the door handle, but she no longer seemed in a hurry to leave.
Jake knew if Amanda had been in Angel’s place, she’d have immediately puffed up and told him in no uncertain terms that she’d ride with whom she wanted, when she wanted. But Angel was not as impulsive as Amanda, not so prone to speak first and have regrets later.
She studied him for a moment until her tense expression eased. Then her lips lifted in a slight smile, and Jake sighed in relief.
“I was only looking out for you.”
“I realize that.” In spite of her youthful appearance, there was maturity in Angel’s
gaze. “I didn’t want to go with him, anyway.” Her nose wrinkled. “I don’t like Beemers.”
Jarvis’s new BMW convertible had been the talk of the school last month. With its mirror ebony finish and its sporty styling, there had been no shortage of Woodland Hills students wanting to take a spin—most of them female.
“Lots of girls think Jarvis is the man.”
Jake groaned to himself. He spent every day with teenagers. Now he was starting to sound like one!
“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Angel said lightly. “I’m not like the other girls.”
“That’s right.” Jake let his gaze drop, focusing for a moment on her lips. “You’re more mature.”
Jake couldn’t help but remember how sweet those lips had been. How close he’d felt to her that night on the Ferris wheel. His eyes explored her face; the gleam reflected in her eyes told him she remembered, too.
The brisk north breeze had turned the outside air unseasonably cold, but in the Jeep the temperature shot upward. Jake’s breath grew ragged.
“We had a good time together the other night.” Her dark eyes glittered. “Why haven’t you called me?”
Jake stalled. She wasn’t really a high school senior, but seeing her every day in his classroom made it hard to remember that fact. “I’m your teacher. Teachers don’t call students for dates, no matter how mature they are.”
For an instant, a flash of something that looked like approval crossed her face. But when she snorted and heaved a theatrical sigh, Jake was sure he’d been mistaken.
“Oh, brother,” she said. “A man of conscience.”
Jake laughed. She made integrity sound like a dirty word. “It’s hard, but somebody’s got to take a stand.”
“Enough already. I just ate.” Angel rolled her eyes. “Just tell me this isn’t your way of getting out of giving me a ride.”
“Angel.” He pinned her with his gaze and spoke the words slowly and distinctly. “I want to give you a ride.”
“You do?”
He nodded. God forgive him, he did. There were a thousand reasons he should keep his distance. She’d lied to him. He couldn’t trust her. None of it mattered. He couldn’t help wanting to be with her. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” she said simply. Her face reddened the instant the words left her lips, as if she, too, had revealed more than she’d intended.
“Jake—”
Her husky voice sent a shiver racing down his spine.
She lightly rested her hand on his forearm. “One more thing?”
A horn blared, and Angel shot a quick glance out the window. Jake kept his gaze fixed on Angel and ignored the irritating sound.
He moved his arm so her hand slid down to his, and he gently locked their fingers together. “What is it you want, Angel? Tell me.”
“Can I have a sip of your soda?” Her lips tilted upward in the barest hint of a smile. “I’m really thirsty.”
Chapter Thirteen
Angel drained the last of Jake’s cola with a noisy slurp. He didn’t look her way.
They hadn’t spoken since they’d left Big Al’s. She didn’t blame him for being annoyed. She’d teased him since she’d gotten in his car, and when he’d finally responded she’d shut him down.
He’d been ready to kiss her, and she’d been ready to let him—when that blasted horn had blared and she’d caught a glimpse of Marylou from her history class sitting in the next car, blatantly staring. What could Angel do but improvise? Unfortunately, the best she’d been able to come up with had been that ridiculous request for a drink.
She had to protect Jake’s reputation. Big Al’s was a well-known hangout for Woodland Hills staff and students. If he’d kissed her in full sight of everyone, his career would have been over. For a man of conscience, his behavior made no sense.
Why was he at the drive-in in the first place? He certainly hadn’t stopped there because he was starving and couldn’t wait until he got home to eat. Hungry men didn’t leave a good half of Big Al’s famous Mega Burger on their plate.
She wished she could forget the fleeting thought that had crossed her mind when she’d first spotted his Jeep. Even if Jake were involved in the drug ring, what purpose would there be in watching Mike do a sale? More than likely, his showing up had been purely coincidental. In fact, if she were a gambler she’d bet all her chips that Jake was what he appeared to be—a genuinely good person.
But she wasn’t a gambler, she was a cop. She could leave nothing to chance.
“How was your meeting?”
“Meeting?” His expression was clearly puzzled.
“The reason you missed practice?”
“Oh, that.” Worry lines appeared between his brows. “Mr. Jorgens had some things that he needed to discuss with me.”
“Like?”
“Like none of your business.” He softened his words with a smile.
Actually, Angel wasn’t the least bit offended by his brusqueness. Of course it was none of her business, but this was an investigation. She had to ask.
She shrugged and punched some buttons on his radio until she found her favorite station. An Elvis classic blared from the Jeep’s speakers, and Angel joined in on the refrain. She made up the words she didn’t know. When the song ended, she turned to find Jake staring.
She smiled and pushed back a strand of hair. “Do I have dirt on my face?”
He shook his head.
“What then?” Angel reined in her smile at a horrific thought. “I’ve got food in my teeth, and you don’t want to tell me.”
Quickly she pulled down the visor and flipped open the vanity mirror. Grinning broadly like an ape in a zoo, she scanned her teeth. Finding nothing, she closed the mirror with a snap. She heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Don’t scare me like that again.”
“You said once you grew up in East St. Louis.” Jake said. “You moved from there…?”
“When I was fifteen,” she answered automatically, shifting her gaze out the window. She rarely thought of those days anymore. Look Ahead was her motto.
“You always seem so happy,” Jake said. “Yet that couldn’t have been an easy life.”
“It wasn’t easy. You’re right about that.” She took a deep breath, determined to be as honest as she could without blowing her cover. “My parents died when I was ten. I was in and out of foster homes until I was fourteen. Then my aunt and uncle took me in…”
Her voice trailed off. Even after all these years it was still hard to think of that time without pain.
“It must have been a relief, finally being with family.” He shot her a hopeful smile, and she knew that this was a guy who wanted to believe in happy endings.
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Angel sighed. “Unfortunately it didn’t take me long to discover that my aunt couldn’t have cared less if I was in the house or not, and that my uncle wanted the money from Social Services, not me. At least at the foster homes, I went in knowing the score.”
“Like the one you’re in now.”
“What?”
“The foster home on Dempster. Is it better than being with your aunt and uncle?”
“Living on the street would beat living with them.” Angel gave a wry smile. Her mind drifted back, remembering that dump of an apartment. The filth. The roaches. The people coming and going at all hours of the day and night. Her aunt drank continuously and her uncle worked sporadically. Their survival depended on giving their constant visitors what they wanted.
“It sounds as if they had some problems.”
“That’s the understatement of the year.” She chuckled, a dry humorless sound even to her own ears. There was nothing amusing about her time with them. After all, what was funny about an uncle taking a fifteen-year-old with him on a drug buy to allay suspicion? Or shoving his own niece in front of him when the buy started to go south? What could you say about a guy so low that he’d let his sister’s child take a bullet meant for him?
&n
bsp; “There was a time when I could have lit a match and watched them both burn.”
If he was surprised at the vehemence in her tone it didn’t show. Instead he seemed puzzled. His brows drew together in a frown. “Now?”
“I wasted a lot of time being angry. Angry at my parents for dying and leaving me alone. Angry at my aunt and uncle.” She stopped and took a deep steadying breath.
She’d forgiven the man, she truly had. But his betrayal and her aunt’s unwavering support of his actions still hurt. Angel blinked back the unexpected tears.
Jake’s hand closed around hers. “You don’t have to say any more.”
“I know,” she said softly. “But I haven’t gotten to the best part.”
“I’m glad it got better.”
“Only because I changed.” The hate and anger she’d harbored in her heart had nearly destroyed her. It would have, too, if not for Dan. “I committed my life to the Lord when I was sixteen. A friend helped me to see that if God could forgive everything I’d done, could I do any less for my Aunt and Uncle?”
“You make it sound simple.” A muscle in Jake’s jaw jumped. “It’s not that easy.”
“Of course, it’s not easy.” Angel thought of the hours she’d spent in prayer. “You don’t go from wishing someone dead to being their best friend. My uncle and I will never be close. But I no longer hate him. I feel sorry for him and for the lifestyle he continues to lead.”
“How did you ever do it?”
“I prayed,” she said simply. “And when I thought there was no way I could forgive, I remembered grace is something needed but not deserved. I didn’t deserve to be forgiven for my sins, but God forgave me. My uncle certainly didn’t deserve to be forgiven—but how could I do any less for him than God had done for me?”
Angel waited for a response, a simple acknowledgment that he’d understood the point. When he remained silent, she longed to fill the void, to talk more about her faith and the difference one person can make. But she’d learned long ago that you couldn’t push someone into acceptance.