Angel Falls (Angel Falls Series, #1)

by Babette de Jongh

  Ian took a deep breath and let it out. “I’ve told you about my wife.” His arms tightened around my ribs, preventing me from turning toward him. “I’m afraid you’ll want more than I’m capable of giving.”

  I watched the buck sip rainwater from the birdbath though he stayed on full alert, his eyes scanning the yard for predators. “Ian, what happened to Maeve was not your fault.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Casey.” He hugged me tight, the strength of his muscled arms so different from the wounded little boy I sensed inside him.

  The earth-mother in me shoved Cinderella aside. I turned around and went on tiptoe to kiss his chin. “We don’t have to figure anything out right this minute. Let’s just take it easy and see where this goes.”

  “Christ.” His voice was weary and low, the voice of a sinner at confession. “I meant to help you through your grief, and now I don’t know what I’m doing. I might be hurting us both more than we’ve ever been hurt yet.”

  “I’m responsible for my own safety, and I’m not ready to run yet. At least for now, I’ll take what you have to offer and be happy for it.”

  He released his breath in relief, and I knew I’d said the right thing.

  *

  Monday afternoon, I got to the studio early. I’d been trying out new choreography and was spread out on the classroom floor doing the splits and making notes in my choreography notebook.

  Lizzie gave a short bark of recognition, and I looked up. Ben came in carrying Amy, her head lolling sleepily on his shoulder. She wore the red tights Melody had probably bought to go with her Christmas dress last year—I remembered them from the family Christmas card—and the same leotard she’d had on last week, now smeared in back with grass stains.

  I closed my notebook and walked to them. Lizzie hopped down from her ottoman and sat in front of Ben, expecting her share of admiration.

  “Amy’s still sleepy.” Ben leaned toward me, preparing to hand over his burden. “I didn’t get her down for a nap early enough, I guess.”

  “That’s okay.” I held my arms out. Ben transferred Amy to me. She snuggled her face into my shoulder. I hugged her close, watching an elusive stream of emotions wash across Ben’s face. He rubbed a hand down Amy’s back, and we stood silent for a minute, connected like beads on a string.

  He broke the connection by kneeling down to ruffle Lizzie’s fur.

  “How are y’all doing?” I asked.

  He scratched Lizzie under her chin. “Better.” He looked up at me with his shy smile, chin tilted in the endearing, boyish way that had once tugged at my heartstrings. In a way that still made me feel swollen inside. “We’d like it if you’d come over and cook dinner for us again. Macaroni and cheese is wearing a bit thin.”

  Thanks to Ian, I had moved beyond thinking of the accident as my fault. Maybe I was meant to be with Melody on that fateful day, so she wouldn’t have to die alone. Maybe I was meant to help Ben put his family back together again, just not in the way Melody had expected. “I guess I’ll have to give you a recipe file for Christmas.”

  “Don’t bother unless the recipes are simple.” He stood, hands in pockets, and bumped his shoulder against mine the way he’d done a thousand times before. “No more than three ingredients. That’s about all I can handle.”

  Something in me loosened, the tension defused by his familiar gesture. “You idiot.”

  “Oh... I almost forgot.” He brought a hand out of his jeans pocket and opened his palm to reveal a bunch of hairpins and a rubber band—the thick purple kind that come on bunches of broccoli at the grocery store. “Here’s the stuff for Amy’s hair. So you can fix it. That’s why I brought her early.”

  I grabbed a covered hair dooley off the stereo cabinet, carried Amy toward Lizzie’s tuffet and motioned for Ben to sit. “Come here.”

  Ben sat, and Lizzie jumped up and curled herself around him. Ignoring Amy’s sleepy protest, I lowered her feet to the floor, stood her in front of Ben, and handed him my hairbrush. “It’s about time you learned to make a ponytail.”

  *

  That night, I started reading Sacred Contracts, a book Melody had given me years ago but I’d set aside without reading past page twenty-five. At the time, I’d thought she was absolving herself, sending me the message that stealing Ben from me was part of some spiritual contract between the three of us. Now, reading further, I wasn’t so sure.

  The phone rang. Distracted by my thoughts, I picked it up, but only said, “hmmmm?”

  “I need you.” Ian’s words sent a shivery little thrill through me. I set the book aside, along with the philosophical conundrums it presented.

  “You do?” Huddled in my big reading chair, I picked polish off my toenails and held the phone against my shoulder. I pretended indifference, though my insides were swirling with anticipation. “Would it be foolish to ask what you need me for?”

  He chuckled, a low, devilishly attractive sound. “Among other things, I’d like you to be my date for an awards banquet on Friday, in Birmingham. I’ll book a hotel room for the weekend. If we leave early, we’ll have time to change clothes,” his voice lowered suggestively, “or something... before the banquet. Then we’ll spend the rest of the weekend doing whatever we want in the big city.”

  “Oh, Ian.” Fuck the indifferent tone. I couldn’t wait to spend the weekend with him. “That sounds wonderful.”

  “It’s not. At least not the banquet. But the rest of the time, I’ll make it up to you.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “Now...” His voice got all sexy and deep, and I pictured him leaning back in his office chair, the lights turned down low. “Since I’m stuck here at work until Wilson finishes the print run, why don’t you make me miserable. Tell me what you’re wearing.”

  I looked down at my oversized mustard yellow T-shirt, holey and paint-smeared but soft and clean—one I wore to sleep in now that I’d ruined it for anything else. “Well, I have this red satin nightie with black spaghetti straps...”

  *

  On Friday, I was packed and ready by two. Angela had agreed to look out for Lizzie and Chester, and to let them come inside her apartment to visit if they seemed lonely. I’d brushed my hair, twice. I’d put on lipstick, again. My nails were done. My fanciest dress hung in a garment bag across the back of the couch. I was rummaging in the refrigerator in search of anxiety food when the phone rang.

  “Casey.”

  Expecting Ian, I got Ben. My pattering heart tripped and fell. “What?”

  “Thank God you’re home. I’m stuck in a meeting with new clients in Gulf Shores. The meeting’s almost over, but even if I left now, I couldn’t get home to pick up the kids on time. I need you to get Jake and Maryann from school, and Amy from Marina’s. You know Marina’s mom—”

  “Yes, I know Marina’s mom. But I can’t—”

  “I need you to take them all home and hang out until I get there.”

  “Ben.” I spat out his name like a bad piece of meat. “I’m going—”

  “Casey,” Ben begged, “I’m all out of options. Lois and Herb are out of town. I’d have called my parents in Birmingham, but by the time I realized I was in a bind, it was too late. You’ve got to. I promise, I—”

  “Dammit, Ben.” Exasperated to the bone, I pounded my fist on the back of the couch. “You can’t do this to me.”

  “I wouldn’t ask if there was any other way. I’ve got nobody else to call.”

  “What about Cole and Meredith? Couldn’t they—”

  “I asked. Meredith is on her way to a real estate seminar in New Orleans, and Cole’s driving to Meridian to pick up some rich guy’s horse.”

  “He’s what? I thought Cole worked construction.”

  “He does, but he also trains horses on the side. Anyway, their kids are going on some long-weekend thing with Cole’s parents. So I’m out of options. If you can’t help me, my kids will be sitting on the sidewalk come three-o’clock.”

  “Okay,
fine.” My shoulders slumped in defeat. “I’ll go get them.”

  “Thank you so—”

  “But,” I interrupted, “I am taking them to my house, not yours. And you had better be here to get them no later than four o’clock. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes, Casey, yes. Thanks a bunch. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you in a little while.”

  “No later than four o’clock,” I yelled, but he’d already hung up.

  “Well, hell.” Feeling defeated, I hung up too.

  Just in time to see Ian’s car pull up out front.

  I walked onto the porch and leaned against the rail, watching him get out of the car. Even such a simple act, he performed with the powerful grace of an athlete. From thirty feet away I could see muscles bunch and lengthen as he moved. My heart did flip-flops in my chest, trying to run toward him while I stood still.

  He walked toward me smiling that sexy-as-hell smile of his. “You look so good. We may not make it any farther than your bedroom.”

  Not even that far. I put my hands on the broad muscles of his shoulders. “Is there any way we can hang around until about four o’clock?”

  He grinned a grin that would put the devil to shame and slid his hands into the back pockets of my jeans. His long fingers cupped my butt cheeks and squeezed. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Unfortunately, not what you think.” I explained the circumstances and watched the charming grin fade from his face. He knew I often helped Ben out with the kids. But this was the first time my involvement with Ben’s family had directly affected our plans.

  “Ian, I’m so, so sorry.” I found myself using Ben’s words, though I knew they didn’t sound any better to Ian than they had to me. “If there was any other way...”

  “Yeah, okay.” His voice was stiff. He turned away and stomped up the porch steps. “I understand.”

  But it was pretty clear he didn’t. I followed him across the porch to the swing, rubbing his shoulders as I kept pace behind him. “I told Ben he had to pick the kids up no later than four. We can still make it in plenty of time, can’t we?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Ian dropped into the porch swing. “Plenty of time.”

  “Hey, now.” I sat beside him and scooted up against one of his wide-spread legs. “Ben called me, being pitiful to get his way. Don’t you start, too.”

  Ian turned his lips down in an exaggerated pout, then allowed an unwilling smile. “All right. I’ll try to be a big boy about it.” He looked down at his watch. “Shouldn’t you be on your way to get them?”

  I took his wrist, turning the watch face toward me. “Not quite yet.” I leaned against the swing’s slatted back and cuddled up to Ian, just for a few minutes.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  By four thirty, I had emptied the contents of my refrigerator into the stomachs of Ben’s offspring, and he still hadn’t shown. His cell phone connected directly to the message center every time I called. By quarter-to-five, Ian was fuming. He stalked to the front door. “I have to leave now to have even a hope of getting there on time.”

  “I’m hungry,” Amy whined. “I’m tired of eating this yucky old popcorn!”

  “Amy, go watch TV.” My voice rose in frustration and tears stung the backs of my eyes. “I will fix you something else in a minute.” Even though I’d already emptied the fridge and started in on the pantry to satisfy the bottomless pits Ben had foisted on me.

  “Ian.” I put a hand on the taut muscle of his forearm. I could feel the tension vibrating through him. Noting the kids watching us from their spots in front of the television, I took Ian’s hand and led him out onto the porch. “Please don’t be mad.”

  He shook off my hand. “How am I supposed to feel?”

  I crossed my arms in front of me. “You know I couldn’t leave those kids sitting outside the school. Ben didn’t have anybody else.”

  “You know, that’s the problem.” Ian’s anger brought out his accent. “He doesna have anybody else, so you come runnin’. Have you ever thought if you didna come runnin’ a time or two, he’d soon find somebody else?”

  “Ian, that’s not fair. I’m not just doing this for Ben. I love those children, and I’m doing it for them more than anybody.”

  “Aye,” he said, his voice calming a fraction. “I know that. I do. But I think maybe you’ve forgotten, those children in there, much as you love them, are not your children. And they’re not your responsibility. With them, just like with their father, you’ll always be a substitute for the real thing.”

  Ouch. That hurt, but part of me accepted the truth in it. Another part fought back. “Ian, that’s mean. Even if it’s true, it’s not okay to say it.”

  “It’s not okay to point out a truth you seem blind to?”

  “I’m only trying to help. I’m not—”

  “I have to go.” Ian started down the steps. “Just be careful you don’t give so much of yourself to Ben and his children that you’ve nothing left to give to anyone else.”

  He drove away, and I stood on the porch for a full five minutes before going back into the house.

  Ben finally showed up just before six o’clock. Madder than I’ve ever been in my life, I met him on the sidewalk. Car keys in one hand, overnight bag in the other, I shot him a look that made him take a step back. “Your children have been fed. Lock the door when you leave. I’m going to see if I can get Ian to forgive me for standing him up tonight.”

  “Who?” Ben shook his head as if he hadn’t heard right. And maybe he hadn’t heard at all, but I didn’t care, and I didn’t wait to discuss it. I left him standing where he was, got into my car and slammed the door.

  I peeled away from the curb, slowing down only when I reached the first stop sign. I forced myself to stay under the speed limit until I’d navigated the narrow streets through town. Then I hit the long snake of Highway Eighty and floored it.

  The speedometer bounced at the right edge of the display. The whole car rattled and shook. About ten miles outside of town, where fishing camps and trailers scattered along the river bank like tin cans thrown from a car window, the Check Engine light came on.

  I slowed down a little. This had happened a few times before, but only in stop-and-go traffic when I drove up to Tuscaloosa or Birmingham, or down to Gulf Shores. I hadn’t driven much since the accident, and then only for short stretches in town, so it hadn’t been much of an issue.

  Until today.

  About fifteen miles out of town, near the River Road turnoff where teenagers and college kids congregated on weekends to party, the engine lurched. Smoke billowed from under the hood. Margot chugged forward, had a few little seizures and lost momentum. I was just able to make the turnoff and pull over into the weeds when the engine sputtered, gave a sad little hiccup and died.

  I pulled out my cell phone. If I was lucky, Ian would answer his phone. I wasn’t hoping he’d come and rescue me, but I wanted him to know I’d tried to catch up with him.

  But he didn’t answer. I left a stupid, rambling message that probably didn’t make any sense, and the mailbox didn’t give the option of a do-over. The automated voice said a cold good-bye and ended the call about halfway through my stumbling attempt to make things right.

  I refused to cry.

  I considered it, but in the end, anger won out. Anger at Ben, anger at my stupid, stupid, car, but most of all, anger at myself. I don’t know why, because I still couldn’t think of any way I might have done things differently. I mean, I could’ve said no, but then where would that have left Ben’s kids, whom I loved too much to leave stranded? Maybe I should’ve said no. But I couldn’t imagine doing it, even to teach Ben the lesson he needed to learn.

  For my inability to be callous and ruthless enough to stand up for myself and what I wanted—what I needed—I was so angry with myself, my skin could hardly contain the rage.

  I thought about calling my dad to come and get me, but neither he nor my mother liked driving at night, and it was already nearly d
ark.

  I might have called Ben. After all, this mess was his fault, and he’d have been happy for a chance to right it. But right now, if I had to look at him, I’d kill him. Or at least, say something that would damage our friendship beyond repair. So I walked toward the river, toward the faint sound of car radios playing and teenage laughter tumbling through the air.

  The skunky smell of burning marijuana reached me long before I spotted the group of cars parked near the deserted boat ramp. The headlights formed islands of light in a sea of darkness. I walked up to the car closest to me, where a handful of teenage boys stood, bopping absently to the sound of music coming from another car’s ramped-up sound system. “Hey—”

  “Holy shit!” The blunt they’d just lit flew into the bushes.

  “We was just...” A tall, gangly youth who looked vaguely familiar moved into the shadows, his voice fading away even before he did.

  The boy who’d just thrown probably ten dollars’ worth of weed into the bushes stepped close enough to see me, then even closer so he could identify me. “I’m sorry... Miss Casey? The ballet teacher? What are you doing here?”

  I didn’t know any of these boys—well, either of them, because all but two had melted into the darkness to blend into other groups standing beside other cars—but odds were that some girl they knew took ballet, so they definitely knew me.

  “What are you...?” The kid who’d thrown the blunt touched my arm. His wide eyes searched mine in the dim light thrown by the confluence of headlights where local fishermen parked boat trailers in the daylight. “Are you okay?”

  “My car broke down. I need a ride home, if y’all don’t mind. I’m sorry to interrupt your party.”

  “Oh, no ma’am. You didn’t interrupt. It isn’t really a party. We’re just about to... um...” he looked around and noticed that his one remaining friend had also absconded. “I was just about to leave anyway. I’ll be happy to take you home.” He waved a hand toward his vehicle, a low-slung, beat-up convertible with racing stripes that glowed white in the darkness. “Hop in.”