Angel Falls (Angel Falls Series, #1)

by Babette de Jongh

My crappy love life, so what?

  Why had I spent a moment crying over the loss of my stupid dream, or Ben, or anything my life was lacking? At least I had a life.

  And somehow, the knowledge that I still had a life only made me feel worse.

  “Turn the television off.” My voice sounded as beaten and scarred as I felt.

  Mom reached for the remote control attached to the bed rail, and with a click, the room went silent except for the faint hospital noises beyond the bare walls.

  Mom tried to fill the void by talking. “The doctor said your left arm is badly bruised but not broken, unless there’s a tiny hairline fracture too small to see on the X-ray. That’s good news, right? You’ll have to wear a sling for a couple of weeks, or after that if it starts hurting, but you can...”

  Mom’s chatter went on but I tuned it out. I hurt. God, I hurt. Every inch of skin, every muscle, every bone. My left arm, broken or not, throbbed. My chest, bruised by the seat belt, ached. My blistered skin, burned by the airbag, stung. And I was hot, sweating underneath a forced-air heating blanket. “Ugh.” I tried to kick the thing off.

  “Are you hurting?” My mom put her cool fingers on my forehead.

  “Yes. Everywhere.”

  But none of those physical discomforts hurt as badly as the pain of Melody’s death.

  I couldn’t even spare a thought for Ben, or for Melody’s children, left now without a mother. I could see them all standing outside the wall I’d built around myself. But I couldn’t let them in. I couldn’t bear their grief on top of my own.

  Mom put something in my hand. “Push the button if you need more medicine for the pain.”

  She must have pushed it for me, because I felt an immediate softening. I still hurt, but I didn’t care. Turning away from Mom’s soft, concerned face, I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep. The pain medication buoyed me up, and for a while I floated just out of reach of my hopeless thoughts. Then the hospital sounds faded and I escaped into a dreamless sleep.

  When I woke again, I was alone.

  The orange vinyl chair was empty. I could tell it was daylight outside because shards of light pierced the closed blinds and slanted across the walls. Even when I closed my eyes, those lines sliced across the inside of my eyelids.

  I wanted to cover my eyes to block out the light, but even my good arm felt like lead, so I turned my face away from the window. In the shadows, a man sat in the ugly orange chair’s green twin. I widened my eyes, then narrowed them to focus. Ben?

  He sat forward into the dim light thrown from the slatted blinds.

  No, not Ben.

  Ian. Recognition and awareness collided in my brain. I remembered his strength shielding me, his hand holding mine. “Ian?”

  “Lass....” His deep voice was soft as a sigh. He rose in one smooth move, lowered the bed rail and sat facing me. One of his long legs aligned with mine from hip to knee.

  I moved my right hand to rest on his jean-clad leg, surprised at how weak I felt. How much effort it took to move even that little bit. “You found us.”

  He covered my hand with his. “I heard the dispatch call on the scanner in my office. Wilson and I went to help with the search.”

  “I’m glad it was you.” Why I said it, I don’t know, maybe the painkillers talking. But it felt right, and I didn’t mind letting the words lie there between us.

  He squeezed my hand. “I’m glad, too.”

  “I wish...” A sob threatened to escape, but I swallowed it down.

  He brushed my hair away from my face, gently touched a butterfly-sutured cut on my forehead, trailed his fingers down the swollen, bruised flesh between my left shoulder and elbow. “How’s your arm?”

  “Bruised, not—” Without warning, my throat closed up. Tears rose like hot lava from a burning pit of regret inside me. I swallowed them down, turned my face away and closed my eyes. Ian’s hand covered mine where it lay on his hard muscled leg.

  “Your parents are in the cafeteria.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to speak, afraid that if I opened my mouth I would begin to howl and scream, and not be able to stop. I clamped my lips together and nodded, and he seemed to understand it was the best I could do. I felt him shift his weight on the bed. Then he took my hand in one of his. He smoothed my hand out straight against his palm, threaded his fingers through mine and stroked slowly down to my fingertips. Over and over again his hand caressed mine, until, with his body blocking the harsh slats of light from the window, I was able to fall asleep.

  *

  The day of Melody’s funeral was the most beautiful autumn day I had ever seen. I didn’t know whether to be thankful or angry. Melody deserved sunshine on the day her loved ones told her goodbye, but part of me wanted the sky to weep with us, to be as dark and cloudy and turbulent as my thoughts.

  Only a few wispy white clouds floated, phantom ships in a cerulean sea, past the ancient Mimosa trees that towered over the open grave.

  Melody’s white casket had shiny gold rails along each side. Pink roses covered the smooth polished lid. Their powerful, sweet scent reached me where I stood on the spongy cemetery grass, lost in a sea of mourners.

  Ben and the children sat in the first row of chairs by the dark abyss that would swallow Melody and take her away from us forever. Melody’s parents sat beside them. Lois’s nose was red from crying. Herb stared ahead, his expression stoic, his shoulders hunched, his arms around Amy, who sat in his lap swinging her legs with impatience.

  I could tell Lois had dressed the children and made sure their hair was neatly combed. I wished someone had done the same for Ben. His dark blonde curls stood unruly and wild around his dazed face. Ben’s parents sat directly behind him. His dad kept one hand on Ben’s shoulder.

  Ben and Melody’s two oldest kids sat on each side of Ben. Jake, the twelve-year-old who’d been born the year I moved to New York, kept his mouth set hard between his teeth. Maryann, born the year I danced my first solo, held Ben’s hand, but leaned against her Grandma Lois’s shoulder and cried quietly. Amy squirmed to get down from her Grandpa Herb’s lap, bouncing, wiggling, wanting to run and play. Too young to know what was happening.

  What had happened.

  I dragged my eyes away from Mel’s family and noticed the tall, still figure standing several yards away, near the edge of the crowd.

  Ian.

  He looked at me, and even from that distance I could see the compassion on his face. The tears I thought I’d conquered once again filled my eyes.

  A handful of police officers in dress blues held their hats over their chests, heads bowed. Jack McKenzie, a classmate and one of Ben’s best buddies, glanced up. Sunlight made his buzz-cut blond hair look almost white.

  Jack had come to see me in the hospital. He had questioned me about the accident then told me that the guy driving the truck had apparently suffered a heart attack and lost control of his vehicle. Jack hadn’t asked whether Melody had died right away, or slowly, in agony and despair. He had patted my hand, then sat by my side in the hospital room, watching some stupid reality show until I fell asleep.

  That all seemed so long ago, as if Melody’s death had catapulted us into some time warp that would make this new, horrible reality last forever.

  After the service, I walked back to my parent’s car with my mother on one side of me and my father on the other. Halfway there, I was nearly tackled from behind as two little arms flung around my thighs.

  Grateful for Amy’s small body pressed against my legs, I turned and knelt down.

  Amy slung her arms around my neck. “I have new shoes,” she said, her breath hot and damp in my ear. “My mommy died, so I have new shoes to wear to the foo-neral.” Her little baby voice strangled my heart, and I struggled not to cry as she held her foot up for me to see one of her shiny new patent leather shoes. “Won’t she love them when she comes home?”

  “Your mama loves you. Forever and always.” I kissed her bow-shaped mouth, her rosy cheeks. The
familiar smell of strawberries and little girl wrapped around my heart and squeezed. I tucked an errant blonde curl behind her ear. “And I love your new shoes.”

  Amy planted a sloppy kiss on my cheek then turned to Ben, who’d been trailing behind her. He picked her up, and she laid her head on his shoulder. It had been a long day, and I knew it was way past her nap time. She would probably be asleep before they reached the car.

  And she’d wake to a world without her mother.

  A surge of guilt made me flush like I’d been slapped with a handful of stinging nettle. I knew I hadn’t made this happen, but if Melody and I hadn’t gone shopping...

  I looked at Ben, and sorrow swamped guilt. My guilty feelings made Mel’s death all-about-me, when I’d secretly accused her of being self-centered. Mel’s death wasn’t about me, at all. It was about her children, her husband, her family, and their loss.

  Ben cleared his throat. “You’re coming to the house after... after...”

  I wondered if this was a polite way of asking me not to come. Maybe my cuts and bruises would be a painful reminder of how Melody had died. “Do you want me to?”

  Ben gave a jerky nod, like the person working his marionette strings had forgotten to do the job for a second. “Of course.”

  Then someone touched his arm. Ben turned away, and my mother took my hand. The next thing I knew, Daddy was driving us away from the cemetery, down familiar streets that suddenly looked foreign and strange to me.

  Too soon, he parked in front of Melody’s house.

  “Mom,” I said from the back seat, “I don’t think I can go in.”

  She looked over the seat to pin me with her pale eyes. “You have to.”

  Daddy held my arm on the way up the sidewalk, as if I might do a runner if he let go. I wished I could run away. But Mom was right.

  I had to do this.

  Guilt, jealousy’s red-headed stepchild, held hands with my regrets. Together they skipped round and round in my head in a continuous loop I could only escape when I slept. The accident’s every detail haunted me, even some I hadn’t noticed then but remembered now. The chirping of crickets. The whine of a persistent mosquito. The stench of rotting vegetation and mud wafting through the broken windows.

  My daddy tapped on the front door, but it was just a formality before walking inside. Mom added her famous chocolate pound cake to the huge array of tragedy foods already on the dining table. Someone gave me a gentle hug. Someone else drew me toward the kitchen and pressed a red plastic cup of iced tea into my hand.

  “Can I fix you a plate, hon?”

  I looked up to see Grace Lambert, Ian’s secretary, a compassionate smile creasing the loose folds of her sweet, elderly face. I wondered whether her ever-present black wig made her head hot, or if it itched. I wanted to tell her she’d be beautiful without it, even if she didn’t have a hair on her head.

  “No, thanks,” I roused myself enough to say. “I’m not hungry.”

  Grace patted my shoulder. “You’ve got to keep your strength up. You’ve got to be strong for Melody’s family. They need you.” She filled a plate and directed me to the couch, where she set the plate on a TV tray then drifted back to the kitchen. The mother of a ballet student was sitting on the couch talking to a big, muscular man with scruffy blond hair and a beard. They scooted to one side to make room, and the man waited for me to sit, then slid the TV tray in front of me.

  “Hey, Casey.” His voice was deep, quiet, comforting. A confidence-inspiring voice like the one on TV that made me want to buy Allstate Insurance. “I’m Cole Sutton, and this is my wife, Meredith. You teach our daughter, Jennifer.”

  “Oh, yes. The intermediate class on Tuesday.” I put my iced tea on the tray. The woman, lean and leggy with a mane of wavy brown hair, reached around her husband to squeeze my hand. “We’re so sorry for your loss. I know you and Melody were very close.”

  “Thank you.” The words almost stuck in my throat, and I took a quick sip of my tea then made a face. I was one of the few people in the deep-south who hated sweet tea.

  “You want unsweet?” Meredith hopped up and grabbed my cup. “I’ll get you some.”

  I was trying to figure out how Meredith had read my mind when Cole spoke. “Our daughter, Jenn, is in Jake’s class at school. We’ve known Ben and Melody since our kids were in kindergarten.”

  Cole’s kind blue eyes and soft tone were soothing. But I had lost my ability to make small-talk, and a ready response didn’t pop into my head. I wished Ian were here, even though I knew he wouldn’t have been invited. He was new in town, and hadn’t known Melody or Ben. “I’m sorry. I’m not...” I waved my hand in a vague gesture. I’m not ready for this.

  “I understand. Ben told me that you were with Melody when she died.” Cole’s voice was neutral, stating a fact without being condemning or curious. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  Meredith glided back with a blue plastic cup and handed it over.

  I realized then—color-coded cups. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Meredith didn’t sit back down; she patted her husband on his wide, muscle-bound shoulder. “Honey, we should get the kids from your mother’s before she feeds them enough sweets to put them into diabetic comas.” She turned back to me. “Give me a call sometime. I’d love to take you to lunch when you’re feeling up to it. I know we’ll both be missing Melody, and maybe we can help each other.”

  Meredith’s sincere offer made my eyes water. “Thank you. I won’t forget.”

  Cole and Meredith left, and Jake plopped down next to me. “Aunt Casey,” he whispered. “I can’t stand this. When are all these people going home?”

  I stroked Jake’s blonde-streaked curls away from his face. “Oh, honey. I don’t know. They may stay all evening.”

  “Nooo.” He managed to insert a decent whine into the whispered word. “I hate this! All these people feeling sorry for us...”

  “Shhh.” I shushed him, though when I glanced around I realized I was the only one able to hear him above the other conversations.

  “Can’t you give me the key to your house? I could ride my bike there.”

  “Oh, Sweetie, I don’t think your dad—”

  Jake took my hands in his and squeezed his desperation into my skin. “Please, Aunt Casey. Please, please...”

  His eyes trapped mine, the chocolate brown iris so much like his mother’s, while his lanky pre-teen frame and the loose, blond-brown curls of his hair reminded me of Ben. “Aunt Casey, I swear, I’m gonna explode.”

  “Why don’t we go for a walk?” I didn’t want to be here, either. “You and I could walk around the block.”

  “Noooo. I want to leave and not come back until all these people are gone.”

  “I’ll talk to your dad and see what we can work out. But I can’t promise anything.”

  Jake’s body relaxed, and I could tell how tightly he’d been holding himself. “I knew you’d come through.”

  “I’ll try.” I stood and scanned the room for Ben.

  Jake’s red-rimmed eyes were full of hope and despair. “Thank you.”

  “Have you eaten anything today?” I asked.

  “Nah, I’m not hungry.”

  I nodded toward my untouched plate. “You eat this, and I’ll see what I can do.”

  He shrugged and picked up a chicken leg, studying it without enthusiasm. “Okay.”

  As I threaded through the crowded rooms, sad, subdued voices hummed around me like clouds of invisible smoke. I found Ben in the kitchen, leaning against the counter nursing a cup of iced tea while his mother and mother-in-law bustled around him. He seemed to be hiding out, and my hopes rose that he might take pity on Jake.

  “Ben, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  He looked up. “Yeah, sure.”

  “Casey, hi.” Ben’s mom, Irene, put gentle arms around me. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

  “I’ve been in the living room.”

  “Th
ank you for coming.” She hugged me for a long time. “I was so glad when Ben told me that you’re staying in Angel Falls. It makes me feel a little better about John and me being all the way up in Birmingham.”

  Mel’s mom, Lois, came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. “We’re all so thankful you’re here for this family in their time of need.” Lois always sounded like an itinerant preacher, the way she worded things.

  “Mom, Lois,” Ben interrupted, “I think Casey wants to talk to me about something.” The kitchen door stood open, and he reached past his mom to open the screen door. “Let’s go outside.”

  Irene kissed my cheek and turned away. Lois patted my shoulder. “You kids go on.”

  As we stepped out into the back yard’s humid September air, I hugged myself against a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the weather.

  Here I was, doing exactly what Melody had wanted me to, and it seemed everyone expected it. “Ben.” I cleared my throat and looked away, focusing on the clutch of men who stood near the metal swing set, smoking cigarettes. “Jake wanted me to talk to you. I think he’s had about all he can take of... of...”

  “Yeah?” Ben, too, looked toward the circle of men and the cloud of smoke that wreathed their heads. “I can relate.”

  “He wants to go to my house. Stay there until everybody goes home.”

  “Can I go, too?” He was trying to make a joke, but it fell to the trampled grass beneath our feet. He watched it fall and kept his eyes on the ground. “It’s probably best that he isn’t alone right now.” The sounds of family and friends talking tumbled through the open kitchen door. “Isn’t that why they do this when someone...” He swallowed audibly, “when someone dies?”

  “I want to come through for Jake.” I wanted to feel I’d been able to help at least one of them make it through this horrible day. Not because of my guilt, or my sadness, or because of the promise I’d made to Melody, but because I loved Ben’s kids. In a different world, they would have been mine, too. “What if we take him to my parent’s house when we leave? Lizzie will be there. You know how much Jake loves Lizzie.”

  Ben’s head came up, and his shoulders relaxed, just a fraction. I pressed my advantage.