by Day Leclaire
“No, you’re wrong.” She felt a shaft of pain slip beneath her guard. “I told you. I was always on the outside looking in. I never belonged anywhere. Not really.”
“You never allowed yourself to belong.” He eased the hair from her brow and cupped her face, his thumb stroking the curve of her cheek. “They’d have let you in, love. All you had to do was ask.”
The truth hit her, devastating in its impact. She had held people at a distance. She’d been so afraid—afraid of being hurt, afraid of rejection. Afraid to reach for her dreams. And it had been a waste. A total waste of life and happiness. Dear heaven, what had she done to herself? Why had she so foolishly thrown it all away?
“You don’t have to be afraid, Angie. Look, sweetheart. Look around you.”
She lifted her head, forcing herself to take note of their surroundings. They were far from shore, and yet; far from fear, too. She’d floated through the warm, silken water, so secure within Reed’s arms that she’d never looked back. Never doubted. Never once been afraid.
The fear was gone. He’d taken it from her. A sudden storm of tears caught her by surprise and she burrowed into his shoulder and wept. She wept in relief that her terror was gone and wept in sorrow over her death. She wept at how much she’d missed in her brief lifetime and at how long it had taken her to find love. But most of all she wept because now that she’d found love, it was far, far too late.
Reed held her in his arms, allowing her time to cry through her grief. And even that was a memory she’d treasure when she left him—the beauty of today and his unstinting generosity. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he repeated, slowly kicking toward shore. “Not of the water and not of life. Neither can hurt you anymore.”
“I miss it, Reed,” she whispered in anguish. “I miss it so much.”
He helped her from the water. Once they’d settled onto the blanket, he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. Then he turned her hand over, enclosing another kiss in her palm.
“Why did you do that?” she asked gruffly.
“You once said that you’d never had a man kiss your hand. I don’t want you to go back without having experienced it.”
“Oh, Reed.”
“I wish you hadn’t died, Angie. That we could have met under different circumstances. You tried to find true love for me...” His eyes turned a shade she’d never seen before—richer, more vibrant, charged with an emotion she couldn’t name. “Instead I found you. I know I shouldn’t want to make love to an angel. That I shouldn’t feel—”
She sealed his mouth with her fingers. “Shh. Don’t say it. What you want...what I want, isn’t possible.” But his yearning continued to ring in her head, echoing so loudly it threatened to deafen her. The impossibility of it all overwhelmed her and she covered her ears to shut out the silent cry.
“Let me make love to you,” he urged, catching her hands in his. “Just this one time. So we both have something to remember. It won’t be lust. I promise it won’t.”
She was tempted. So horribly tempted. But if she let him love her and allowed herself to love him in return, she’d cross a line that shouldn’t be crossed. Even though it would give her an eternity’s worth of memories—memories she could cherish when she lost her place in heaven, memories that would see her through the dark times to come—it would be wrong. She’d been sent to help Reed, not to steal the love he owed a more deserving woman. A courage she’d never possessed before filled her, an unassailable certainty that she had it within her to face whatever destiny had in store. But only if she did right.
“We can’t,” she said, disengaging herself. She didn’t know where she found the strength. “I won’t be able to stay much longer. Goodenkind will put an end to my mission soon.”
“Angie—”
His whispered plea almost destroyed her. She couldn’t meet his gaze, could only shake her head. “Would you like your wish now?”
He didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his voice sounded impossibly cold, shattering the warmth and joy they’d shared. “Yes.”
Oh, why did it hurt even to breathe? “Make it.”
“I want you to find Emily for me. I want to know once and for all whether she had my baby. And if she did, I want to many her.”
“Is this your heart’s desire?” she whispered.
He didn’t answer and she forced herself to look at him. He stared across the water, his jaw set at a grim angle. He’d clenched his hands so tightly the muscles along his forearms stood out in thick cords. His eyes were shadowed, the gold totally eclipsed by a nut-hard brown.
“Reed? You don’t have to do this,” she urged. “You can still wish for true love. That doesn’t mean you won’t find Emily, that you won’t be able to discover whether she had your baby.”
“You’re right. I want my child, if he exists. But there’s something else I crave every bit as much.” He faced her then, and the bleakness she read in his expression struck hard. “But it’s a craving you can’t satisfy.”
“What do you mean?” she asked uneasily.
“You know.”
“I don’t.”
“If I can’t have heaven, I’ll take hell. Give me my wish. Angie.”
“Wish for love!”
“You heard my wish,” he grated. “Are you going to grant it?”
“You want Emily? You want to know whether you have a child?”
“And I want marriage, if that child does exist.”
“And this is your heart’s desire?” she asked once more, her own heart breaking.
“It is.”
He’d said it. Said it loud and clear, so there couldn’t be any mistake. Tears filled Angie’s eyes again. “So be it,” she whispered.
He reached for her. His fingers brushed her cheek in a lingering caress. “It hurts, sweetheart.” His words were low, torn from the deepest part of him. “No matter what I wish, a piece of myself will always be missing. You know that, don’t you?”
His pain echoed her own. That’s how she’d feel when her time was up—like she’d left a vital part of herself behind. Angie closed her eyes, savoring Reed’s touch, savoring each brief second she had with him, well aware this would be one of their final moments together.
“Yes. I do know.”
Angie arrived at Reed’s office early Monday morning, wanting to weep at the knowledge that her mission had come to an end. This would be the last time she’d watch a slow smile build across Reed’s full, wide mouth, the last time she’d see the golden spark in his hazel eyes catch fire. The last time she’d feel his touch or breathe his scent or hear the rough timbre of his voice.
Praying for the strength she’d need to get through the next fleeting hour, she opened the door. Reed stood profiled by the windows overlooking the river. He hadn’t heard her enter and she took a moment to study him unobserved. To her surprise, strain rode him hard and she frowned in concern. Knowing his wish would soon be granted should have eased his worries. Instead, deep crevices slashed a path from cheekbone to mouth, emphasizing the taut set of his jaw. His brows were furrowed as he stared out at the rain-streaked panorama.
“Reed?”
He turned, his greedy gaze feasting on her. “I thought you’d gone.”
“I couldn’t. Not yet.” She’d miss him. Dear heaven, how she’d miss this man.
His lips pulled to the side in a half-smile, amusement easing the strain from his face. “I’m shocked, Angie. You’re wearing white. That’s quite a switch.”
“My days of red are over, I’m afraid.”
His tension was quick to return. “Over? Why are they over?”
“You know why. Because I have to leave soon. Before I do, there’s one final chore to complete.”
“If you’re talking about finding me a wife—”
“I’m not,” she hastened to say, holding up her hands. “I admit my mission to bring love into your life was an utter failure.”
“No, it wasn’t.” An odd emotion raged in
his eyes. “Sweetheart, I don’t want you to leave.”
“That’s not your decision to make, any more than it’s mine.” She fought to be strong—for both their sakes. “Listen, Reed, I need to apologize.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Yes. I do.” She risked approaching him, desperate to feel that momentary closeness one last time. If she were wise, she’d keep the length of the room between them. But then... When had she ever made wise choices? “I should have tried harder to find you a wife.”
“I didn’t want one.”
“You deserve to have love. It does exist, Reed.” The words burst from her, urgent in her need to convince him. “I know I told you I didn’t believe in it. But, I was wrong.”
“Don’t go back,” he whispered. “Stay with me.”
He was breaking her heart—a heart she’d never truly believed she possessed. How wrong she’d been. How horribly, painfully wrong. “I don’t belong here. Not anymore. I lived my life. Now you have to live yours.”
The blaze that had started in his eyes grew, the gold burning hard and fierce, igniting the specks of green and brown. “I want you in that life.”
Oh, please, Goodenkind! Don’t make me go through this. It hurts so much. “That’s not possible.”
“Make it possible.” He reached her in two short steps. “You’d like to find me a wife? Fine. Do it. I’ll even cooperate. We can spend a lifetime together looking for the right woman. One practice date didn’t cut it, Angie. It’ll take months to get me in shape for my future wife. Years, maybe. And once you’ve decided I’m ready, we still have to locate her. It could take all of eternity to find the woman I should marry.”
“Reed, ptease—” She couldn’t continue and he snatched her into his arms, cradling her close.
“You can’t leave me. I won’t let you.”
His mouth found hers, drinking with a thirst that wouldn’t be sated. Resistance was impossible. How could she resist something that graced her soul with such peace and contentment? His breath gave her life. His voice filled her ears with music more beautiful than all the heavenly choirs combined. His touch completed her. He deepened the kiss, desperation lending a bittersweet quality to the moment. Locked in his arms she found love. A forever love, a blessing she’d treasure to the end of time and beyond.
I love you! Her soul sang the words even as she gently released him from their kiss. Her lips lingered on his for a final instant, savoring the shape and texture and unforgettable flavor, her final touch as fleeting as a dream.
He cupped her face, his eyes ablaze with savage determination. “I want you. I lo—”
She stopped his words with her hand. “No! Don’t say it. Don’t even think it. I didn’t come for this. I came to fulfill your wish.”
He stared blankly. “What wish?”
“The one Goodenkind gave you. The one by the lake, remember?”
A knock sounded behind them like a death knell.
“You found Emily?” He stared at the door, then shook his head. “Get rid of her. I’ve changed my mind. I can handle this on my own. I don’t need your help.”
“It’s too late,” Angie whispered, stepping away from him. “What’s done is done.”
CHAPTER TEN
THE door swung open and a woman stood there, a woman well into her fifties. She glanced nervously at Angie, before turning her attention to Reed. She clasped her hands together, clearly nervous. “Mr. Harding?”
“I’m Reed.”
“I’m Lorraine Enders, Emily’s mother.” She stepped into the room, her fear palpable. “I wonder if I could speak with you for a minute?”
“Where’s Emily?” he demanded.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Please come in, Mrs. Enders,” Angie interrupted. She gestured toward the couch. “Won’t you have a seat?”
“Thank you.” The woman perched on the edge of the leather cushions and studied Angie, a slight frown creasing her brow. “Don’t I know you?”
“We’ve never actually met.”
“You look so familiar. I feel I should recognize you.”
“Mrs. Enders,” Reed interrupted. “About Emily. Where is she?”
“I’m not sure how to tell you this.” Tears welled into the woman’s eyes. “Emily died a year ago. She was killed in an accident.”
“Died!” It took a moment for Reed to absorb her comments and subdue his shock. Then compassion took over. He crossed to Lorraine’s side and sat next to her. “I’m so sorry. I hadn’t heard. In fact, I’ve been looking for her ever since she left.”
“I’m well aware of that, Mr. Harding.”
“Make it Reed.”
She inclined her head. “Thank you. Please call me Lorraine.”
“I don’t mean to add to your suffering... But could you tell me what happened to Emily after she left?”
“My daughter joined me in Delaware. I think you should know that she was quite frank about her reasons for leaving you. Emily told me about your brother’s problems—how he’d been in and out of trouble for so many years. And she told me how nervous the idea of living with him made her. I thought she was wrong not to give young Joel a chance, but she was adamant because—” Lorraine broke off, twisting her hands together.
“Because she was pregnant?” Reed finished for her.
“Yes,” Lorraine whispered.
“Did she have my baby?”
“She did. A little girl, named Becca. Rebecca Angeline.”
“What happened to my daughter, Lorraine?” A sudden thought occurred and he paled. “Was she with Emily when—?”
“Yes. Though, Becca wasn’t seriously injured.” Lorraine bowed her head. “After Emily’s death, I did a terrible thing. I kept the baby instead of getting in touch with you. It was wrong. I should have contacted you immediately after the accident, but—”
“Why? Why did you keep her from me?”
Angie crossed to his side, resting a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Easy, Reed. She’s doing the right thing now.”
He turned toward her, catching hold of her fingers and drawing them to his mouth. It was such a simple gesture, one of acknowledgment and acceptance. Yet, it meant the world to her. “I’m sorry if I seem anxious, Lorraine. It’s just that I’ve spent over two years searching for the truth. Please go on.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have kept Becca from you—” Her mouth worked for a moment. Finally she gathered herself, her hands closing into fists. “It took a while, but I finally realized that I had to do right, no matter what. Even if it meant—” She broke off, fumbling in her purse for a tissue.
“Where’s Becca?”
“She’s here. I have one request before I bring her in, if you don’t object.” She dabbed the tears from her eyes, then lifted her chin and gave Reed a direct look. “Will you let me say goodbye to her before I leave?”
His eyes narrowed. “Say goodbye?”
“Please.” Angie could tell the word came hard to her, that she wasn’t a woman accustomed to begging. “I know I don’t deserve your compassion, but I’m asking for it, nonetheless.”
Reed shook his head in disbelief. “Is that why you kept her all this time?” He captured Lorraine’s hand. “Did you think I’d shut you out of Becca’s life because of what Emily did?”
Her control broke. “I wouldn’t blame you.” Tears filled her eyes again, spilling uncontrollably to her cheeks. “You’ve lost eighteen months of fatherhood. How can you forgive either of us for that?”
“I forgive you because you gave me a daughter I never knew about.” He hesitated, then admitted. “I’m angry that you didn’t come to me sooner, I can’t deny that. But Becca’s still your granddaughter, Lorraine. She needs you. I’d never take her from you.”
A small whine sounded at the door. Scratch waited there, a small girl beside him, clinging to his red collar. She had a head full of black ringlets pulled into a miniature ponytail and wo
re a bright yellow gingham dress with a yellow collar in the shape of sunflower petals. She was also one of the prettiest little girls Angie had ever seen. Reed stood and stared at his daughter, unable to utter a single word. Spotting her grandmother, the little girl raced across the room. Lorraine picked her up and hugged her close. Then she turned the child in Reed’s direction.
“Becca, sweetness, this is your daddy. Can you say hello?”
Reed stooped so he’d be nearer to her level. “Hi, Becca,” he said softly.
The little girl hesitated, clearly overcome with shyness. She curled her hands in her dress and lifted it to her mouth, revealing a frilly white petticoat beneath. Peeking over the hem she regarded her father with familiar hazel eyes, eyes glowing with bright golden lights. Finally, she offered an eight-tooth smile. “Daddy,” she said.
Reed shut his eyes, his jaw tensing as he struggled with emotions he’d kept locked away for two full years. He held out his hand and waited, hope warring with apprehension. Becca didn’t hesitate, she ran toward him, flinging herself into his arms. He lifted her over his head, chuckling at her squeals of laughter.
“I can see your face now,” he announced in triumph. “I’ve been wondering for so long what you looked like. And now I know.”
His daughter didn’t understand his comment, but Angie did—as did Lorraine. She lifted her tissue again, overcome with grief. Angie slipped an arm around the woman and held her close, allowing angelic compassion to wash away some of the pain. “You’re afraid you might lose Becca. But you won’t. I promise.”
Lorraine’s voice caught on a sob. “I deserve to.”
“We all make mistakes. We also all deserve second chances. I know Reed. He’ll give you that second chance.”
“I’ve already lost Emily. I couldn’t bear to lose Becca, as well.”
“It’ll work out, you’ll see. Reed wished it.” Angie bowed her head, elation mingling with despair. “And even though I haven’t been very good at granting wishes in the past,” she confessed, “this time I’ll succeed.” It was a vow from the heart.