Broken Angels

by Anne Hope

  “I wasn’t. I told you the jerk picked on Kristen.”

  Rebecca tamped down her frustration. She realized she was getting nowhere. “Come on,” she told them. “Let’s get out of here before they kick us out again.”

  Minutes later everyone was strapped safely into her Camry. An unnatural silence filled the metal shell of her car as she drove home. She glanced in the rearview mirror to see Noah staring pensively out the window as the highway streaked by. The blistering sorrow she caught in his eyes made a slow burn spread inside her.

  She couldn’t find it in her heart to scold him, and yet she knew she had to try. “I know you’re having a tough time with all this.” His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. “We all are. But we have to make an effort to get along with each other and the people around us. Lashing out isn’t going to do anyone any good.”

  His expression was mutinous. “Why not? I’m sick of rules. Someone can hit my sister, but I can’t hit back. Someone can shoot my parents and get away with it, but I can’t give that little creep a black eye. Rules suck. Nothing’s fair.”

  Kristen began to sniffle. Will stirred in his car seat.

  “You’re right,” Rebecca answered. “Life’s not fair. And most of the time, it does suck. But you have to learn to rise above it. Because every bad thing that happens to you makes you stronger—wiser—so that when happiness finally does come your way, you’ll recognize it. And if you’re smart, you’ll grab it with all your might and never let go.”

  “The way you did?”

  The question threw her. For a second she forgot she was talking to a nine-year-old. An old sadness overtook her, drowned her in a sea of regret. “I never said I was smart.”

  Maybe Zach had been right all along. Maybe she really had thrown away her chance at happiness by dwelling on the unfair hand she’d been dealt. Right now she saw herself clearly in Noah’s sizzling stare, heard her own bitterness in the resentment that bubbled in his voice.

  It wasn’t too late for him, she reassured herself. She could still help him.

  If only she could figure out how.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When Zach finally got out of Ad Edge, the day had grown gray and drab. Humidity hung heavy in the air and the wind carried a hint of fog. Still, he felt more energized than he had in weeks. In the cutthroat world of advertising, where adrenaline washed over him in buckets and the pace never slowed, he was in his element. He knew just what to do, just what to say. He could handle any crisis without shedding a single drop of sweat.

  At home he was a different person—edgy, unsure how to act, constantly struggling to keep it together. He didn’t like the loss of control or the jumble of emotions he was experiencing. It was so much easier to have a bunch of executives counting on him than it was to have children. Children expected you to be a better person, to rise above your weaknesses, to be wise and strong and well-rounded. Each mistake you made could impact their lives, their future. The pressure was tremendous, as was the desire to do right by them. It seemed the more he struggled to be the person they looked up to, the more he messed up.

  Then there was Becca, who just last week hadn’t been able to hear the word children without panicking. And yet the kids seemed to have bonded with her on sight. Well, at least Kristen and Will had. Noah was a much tougher nut to crack. Becca somehow understood them. She felt their pain and—unlike him—instinctively knew what they needed. Maybe she was right. Maybe he was trying too hard.

  As he drove up to the house, dread rolled through him. The weight of his responsibility crushed him. Still, he mounted the steps and turned the key, surprisingly anxious to see his family.

  His family.

  The words sounded odd, but unexpectedly comforting. Familiar sounds greeted him. The dog barked and nearly ran him over. Will fussed from somewhere in the living room as a cartoon blared in the background. In the kitchen, pots and pans clanged beneath the rush of water.

  A delicious aroma wafted toward him, and he removed his shoes and followed it to the kitchen, where Becca stood washing the dishes. The sight of her was so domestic it cut him off at the knees. He remembered a time when he would have crept up behind her, wrapped his arms around her middle and brushed a kiss on the side of her neck. He fought the overwhelming urge to do just that, even as a part of his brain wondered why he bothered. Maybe he should just give in, try to make it work with Becca again. Things could be different this time. There came a point in every guy’s life when he just had to swallow his doubts and take the plunge. Problem was, he wasn’t sure he could swim, and if he failed to tread water then he risked drowning them both.

  She sensed his presence. He could tell by the way she angled her head, right before she shut off the faucet.

  “How was work?”

  It took him a second to focus on her question. “One of my clients threw a tantrum. Apparently, the campaign turned out all wrong. They needed me to help pacify him.”

  “So you were babysitting again?”

  “You could put it that way.”

  She turned around to face him. Her hair fell in uneven strands across her forehead to brush her skin like threads of silk. She grabbed a dish towel and nervously wiped her hands. “I made lasagna. I kept a plate warm for you in the oven.”

  “Thanks.” He walked over to the stove and opened the oven door, retrieving his dinner. “How were things around here?”

  She hesitated, and alarm inched into his bones. The guilty look on her face set his teeth on edge.

  “Becca?” he said in his most probing tone.

  “I had to pull the kids out of summer camp,” she confessed in a wild rush.

  He closed his eyes and bit back an oath. “What did you do?”

  Indignation flitted across her features. “Why do you automatically assume it was my fault?”

  “Because I’ve known you from the time you wore a training bra.” He placed the plate of lasagna on the table, then dropped into a chair. “Spill it.”

  Her fingers wrung the dishrag until soft spirals distorted the checkered fabric. “Noah got into a fight. He gave one of the other campers a black eye.”

  He shook his head, exasperated. “You know, the saddest part is that I’m not the least bit surprised. That kid’s been itching for a fight for weeks. What was his excuse?”

  Becca joined him at the table. “He said the boy picked on Kristen, then shoved him.”

  “Why didn’t he just tell the counselor?” He dug into his meal, though he wasn’t sure why. His appetite was slowly dwindling.

  “Kristen did, but the counselor ignored her. It turns out she’s the boy’s mother.”

  Zach paused, the fork halfway to his mouth. “Is that allowed?”

  “That’s what I asked her. She didn’t seem to appreciate the question.”

  “So you had it out with her.” He let the fork drop back into his plate without taking a bite.

  “I didn’t have a choice. She was being totally biased. It wasn’t fair to Noah…or to Kristen for that matter.”

  Rubbing his throbbing temples, he stood and walked to the window, where a sprinkle of raindrops battered the glass. “You can’t pull them out of their activities every time something goes wrong. There’s bound to be trouble, particularly with Noah. What happens when they start school in September? Are you going to decide to home school them at the first sign of trouble?”

  “What would you have me do?” She pitched the towel aside, not attempting to mask her frustration. “Send those kids back there after what happened? You didn’t see the shiner on that boy, Zach. Do you think the instructor will ever forgive Noah for that?”

  He sighed. Defeat tugged at his shoulders. “No, I suppose not. But how the hell are we going to keep them entertained for the rest of the summer?”

  She smiled a wobbly smile. “We’ll figure something out.”

  “We better, or they’ll have us for breakfast.”

  Becca’s laughter filled the small kitchen. It was
warm and heartfelt, as smooth as honey and just as sweet. The tension gripping him seeped away, and he returned to his seat to finish his dinner.

  “I almost forgot—that lawyer called.”

  “Neil?”

  “Yeah, he says he has some documents for us to sign to finalize the guardianship. He offered to drop them off tomorrow.”

  Zach took a bite. A medley of delicious spices spread through his mouth, and he realized he was hungrier than he’d thought. “Sounds good,” he said between mouthfuls. “I wanna get this settled as soon as possible.” Then, lifting a pair of inquisitive eyes her way, he asked, “Are you still on board?” It stunned him, how badly he was anticipating her answer.

  “Of course I am. How can you ask me something like that?”

  The pleasure he drew from her fervent reply delivered an even greater shock to his system. He’d convinced himself he wanted her to leave, yet the mere thought of not having her around filled him with a disappointment so bitter it seared his stomach.

  “I just thought— After what happened this morning—”

  “That I may have changed my mind?” Her brows rode high on her forehead. “Look, Zach, we haven’t lived together in two years. It’s going to take some getting used to. We’re bound to tick each other off every now and then.”

  One corner of his mouth inched upward. “If I remember correctly, we did that a lot when we were married. Things between us were always very—”

  “Passionate?” she finished for him.

  His last bite lodged in his throat. “I was going to say interesting.” He tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Did you close the windows? It’s kinda warm in here.”

  A knowing smile bounded across her lips. “It’s raining.”

  “Right.” Their gazes locked. He could’ve sworn a silent challenge flickered in her rust-colored eyes. One thing was certain; she wasn’t mad at him anymore. In fact, what he caught in her heated glance was far more unsettling…and far riskier.

  “You’re not leaving, are you, Aunt Becca?” Kristen gazed up at Rebecca, her curious eyes fringed with worry. Dwarfed by her pink and white canopy bed, she appeared small and fragile, like an angel floating on a fluffy cloud.

  “No, kiddo, I’m not leaving.” She seemed to be getting that question a lot today.

  Kristen didn’t look reassured. She reached for Lindsay’s sweater and clasped it tightly in her arms. A long pause ensued, in which the child immobilized her with her hesitant stare. Worry lines crinkled her smooth brows. “Aunt Becca?”

  “Yes?”

  “When are my mommy and daddy coming home?”

  The innocent query nearly knocked Rebecca to the ground. Her knees weakened, and she lowered her body onto the bed beside Kristen. She had no idea what to say to the child. Was it wise to lie to her, to keep the delusion alive? Or was it best to tell her the truth? If so, how did one shatter a little girl’s hopes and live with oneself?

  “I’m not sure, sweetie,” was all she managed to say.

  Kristen hugged the sweater harder, and a light went out in her eyes. “Noah says they’re never coming back.” A cough shook her small chest, and Rebecca couldn’t help but worry that another asthma attack was imminent. She had to calm the girl before things got out of hand.

  “Boys always think they know everything.” She struggled to infuse some levity in her voice. “But we know better, don’t we?”

  Kristen nearly smiled. To Rebecca’s great relief, her breathing eased a tad. After smoothing out the sheets she urged the girl to lie down. Kristen complied, and Rebecca tenderly tucked her in. She wished she could comfort her in a more significant way—wished she could ease her pain and chase the dark cloud of grief from her face—but only time could accomplish that. All she could do was help these kids get through each and every day, distract them to the best of her abilities, until the memories lost color and the harsh ache in their hearts settled into a weak throb.

  Kristen turned on her side and closed her eyes. Rebecca slowly rose to her feet and prepared to leave.

  “Aunt Becca,” the girl called again, “could you sleep with me a little? I don’t like being alone.”

  Anxiety tingled along her spine, but she reluctantly nodded. She stretched out beside Kristen and gently gathered her in her arms. Lindsay’s flower-scented perfume enfolded her, made her heart ache and a flood of memories rush in. She closed her eyes, listened to the silence, until the soft drone banished all thought and sleep finally swept in to anesthetize her mind.

  Zach closed Will’s door behind him, happy the toddler was asleep at last. The rain had stopped. All he heard was the gentle rasp of his feet as he made his way to Noah’s room. The boy sat in bed, playing his Game Boy with the volume off. When he caught sight of Zach, he stashed the device behind his back.

  Zach pretended not to have noticed. “Still awake?”

  “Can’t sleep.” Noah watched him warily, like a rabbit eyeing a wolf.

  Various drawings littered the nightstand, all dark and bloody. Zach picked one up. The image of some kind of monster running a spike through another’s heart glared up at him. “What are these?”

  The boy shrugged. “I’m making a comic book.”

  Zach put the violent drawing aside. Concern congealed in his gut. “I hear there was some trouble at summer camp today.”

  “Yeah, so?” Noah averted his gaze. Somehow he managed to look ashamed and annoyed all at once.

  “Wanna tell me about it?”

  “Not really. I already told Aunt Becca. Didn’t she tell you everything?”

  “Yeah, but I want to hear it from you.” Zach sat on the corner of Noah’s bed, letting him know in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t going anywhere until they had it out. “What happened?”

  The boy shrugged again—his favorite gesture, apparently. “This kid picked on Kristen. I told him to stop, but he wouldn’t listen. Then he shoved me, so I decked him.”

  Zach dug deep inside him, hoping to find some fatherly wisdom he could impart. “Lots of people are going to say and do things you don’t like. You’re going to have to learn to control your temper. You can’t raise your fists every time someone annoys you.”

  “Why not?”

  The question stumped him. “Because violence isn’t the answer.”

  “So it’s okay for him to call my sister names and push me, but it’s not okay for me to hit back?”

  “That’s not what I said. What he did was wrong. There’s no question about that. But there are other ways to handle things—”

  “Like what?”

  Hell, he wasn’t sure. Maybe Noah really had given the little creep what he deserved, but he couldn’t very well tell him that. He was his nephew’s guardian now. He had to give him the right advice, whatever that may be.

  “You could’ve just ignored him.”

  Noah snorted. “Yeah, right. That would’ve worked.” The sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable.

  “All I’m saying is that violence should be the last resort. Just because you’re stronger than someone doesn’t mean you have to flatten them.”

  “Fine. Whatever you say.” Noah slid down in bed, pulling the covers to his chin. Zach got the distinct feeling his nephew was silently telling him to get lost.

  Realizing he wasn’t going to make any inroads tonight, he stood and shuffled to the door. “Get some sleep,” he told him. “Tomorrow’s a new day.”

  The boy turned his back to him. Defeat siphoned what remained of Zach’s energy. With lethargic fingers he turned off the light. “Good night,” he whispered as he slipped out of the bedroom.

  Noah didn’t bother to reply.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I see you took my advice,” came an unexpected voice from beyond the shrubs. Rebecca gazed over the fence to find Voula beaming at her. The neighbor pointed to the children, who were playing with Bolt. “You got them a dog.”

  “I sort of got suckered into it,” she confessed. “It seems I have a p
roblem saying no to them.”

  Warmth glazed the woman’s features. “They look happy. I haven’t seen them this happy since—” She faltered. “Well, I can barely remember. Everything that happened before is unclear, like a dream.”

  “I know what you mean.” Memories dulled over time, lost definition. She feared one day she’d wake up and Lindsay’s face would be nothing more than a washed-out photograph in her mind.

  “The baby’s gotten so big.” Voula observed Will as he tried to climb onto the puppy’s back. Bolt dashed off, and Will fell on his backside. His shrill wail instantly rose to the heavens, loud enough to shock the wings off the angels.

  “He’s convinced the dog’s a pony,” Rebecca told her with a smile. “Keeps trying to ride him.”

  Voula laughed. “I can see that.” Her gaze strayed to Kristen and Noah, who were ecstatic not to have to go to summer camp this morning. “How are Noah and Kristen getting along?”

  “Better. They haven’t fought once today. I take it as a good sign.”

  “Don’t let their squabbles fool you,” she whispered conspiratorially. “They’re the best of friends. There’s nothing that boy wouldn’t do for his sister. He may like to torment her, but he’s always watching out for her.”

  Rebecca nodded. “I’m starting to get that.”

  Voula’s cat lazily strayed into the yard, oblivious to the fact that a dog had now marked it as his territory. As soon as Bolt sensed her, his ears perked up and his body stretched in an unmistakable hunting stance. Barely a heartbeat later he sprinted after the unsuspecting feline. The cat hissed and scampered away, surprisingly fast for her hefty build.

  The children guffawed with laughter. “Told you Kanela was fast.” Kristen gloated.

  “Bolt’s faster,” Noah challenged. “The cat just got away because she was able to crawl under the fence.”

  “Not true.” Kristen pouted.

  “Is too.”

  “Not true.”

  “Is too.”

  “Enough of that, kids,” Rebecca quickly interjected before things got out of hand. “Look, Bolt wants to play Fetch.”