Angel Falls (Angel Falls Series, #1)

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Angel Falls (Angel Falls Series, #1) Page 27

by Babette de Jongh


  I flailed up to the choppy surface, dragged in a breath, and tried to organize my panicked movements into something resembling true swimming.

  Then I saw him.

  Ian stood waist-deep just ahead of me, ignoring the punch of the waves that caught him in the chest. Ignoring the undulating curves of a water moccasin that popped its triangular head out of the water an arms-length away before submerging again.

  I saw Ian, and knew I would be okay.

  He stood in that churning, muddy water, his wet hair plastered to his head, jaw clenched with determination, waiting for the current to bring me close. He looked like some sort of warrior-god wearing a soaked T-shirt. I raised my head, gulped for air, and swallowed a mouthful of dirty water when a wave broadsided me.

  “Swim to me,” he yelled. “Kick hard!” He held out an arm and leaned as far toward me as he could without sliding into the deeper current that held me in its clutches. I kicked desperately, but the surge hurtled down the chute toward the river, taking me with it.

  Keeping my head above the waves took so much energy, and I didn’t have energy to spare. I held my breath and dove under, hoping to cut through the water toward Ian and safety.

  I stretched my arms out, reaching blindly, and kicked for all I was worth. I hoped Ian could grab me before the tide carried me past.

  Strong fingers gripped my wrist, pulling hard against a current that tried just as hard to suck me downstream. I grappled for his arm.

  Finally, I closed my fingers around hard muscle.

  He dragged me closer, grabbed me around the ribs and hauled me up against his chest. His heart pounded so hard I could feel it. “God, lass.” He hauled in a ragged breath. “Ye scared the shite outta me.”

  I wrapped my legs around his waist and clung like a barnacle on a rock while water swirled around us, sucking, seeking to drag us in.

  “Ben has the boys?” Ian was still breathing hard, his ever-warm skin cold, peppered with goose bumps.

  “Still behind me.”

  “I’m too old for this.” He carried me toward the steep limestone steps. “If ye’ll swear to God never to do anythin’ this dangerous again, I’ll stay in this bloody town forever.”

  I rested my head on his shoulder, breathing in a single moment of pure joy that I would never forget. “I’ll be good.”

  “Ye sure as hell need a keeper.” Ian set me down in knee-deep water. “I might as well be it.”

  Shaking with exhaustion, I held onto his hard waist for balance, but slogged the last few feet under my own steam. I figured once the adrenaline had subsided he’d be backpedaling, but I was more than happy to go along and hope for the best. “You’re right, I do need a keeper.” I’d have been whooping with joy if I had enough breath to do it. I settled for patting him on the arm. “If you’re up for the job, you’re hired.”

  “We’ll talk about my terms of servitude later.” He grabbed my waist and hoisted me onto a limestone step. “I’ve got to help Ben.”

  I scrambled to my knees, and Ian gave me a boost on the rear. “Get up that hill so I don’t have to worry about you.” He turned and slogged back toward Ben and the boys.

  “Hey!” Angela stood above me, a big bundle of rope in her hands. She made a quick loop around the bridge rail, tugged on it, then tossed the frayed end down. “Grab on!”

  When I finally struggled to the top, she propped me against the hood of her old Volvo station wagon and wrapped me in a towel. “The boys?”

  “Ben has them,” I answered through chattering teeth. “Ian’s gone back to help. They’ll be okay.”

  “Thank God he showed up right after y’all left.” Angela rubbed my arms with a towel. I was shaking from the cold air that buffeted my wet clothes.

  “Where are the girls?”

  “I asked Lois to take them to the new house so I could come here in case y’all needed help.” Angela draped the towel around my shoulders, and we walked together to the bridge rail to look down into the canal.

  The water had risen another foot in just a few minutes.

  “Shit.” Maybe I shouldn’t have been quite so confident. Ian was my hero, and Ben was no slouch, either, but they didn’t have superhuman powers.

  Angela hugged me tighter. “They’ll get the boys out.”

  Just then, Ian rounded the corner with the back of Ray’s shirt clutched in his fist. Ray was swimming at the edge of the canal’s limestone wall, where the current wasn’t as strong. Ian was walking, the water lapping at his armpits. Pretty soon, he’d be swimming, too. Ian gave Ray a push every now and then, but he never let go of Ray’s shirt.

  Ben and Jake were right behind them, not quite as close to the limestone wall. “They’re too close to the center,” I worried out loud. If they got caught up in it, they’d miss the steps leading out of the canal and remain trapped within its walls all the way to the river—if they made it that far without drowning.

  “They’ll be okay,” Angela said without much conviction. We both knew how treacherous those waters were.

  A stick floated past Ben. It bobbed along for a while, then got caught up in a whirlpool and sucked under. Angela clutched my arm and pointed to the group as they progressed towards us. “It’s not as deep where they are now.”

  The canal widened and shallowed just before the limestone steps. Ray could stand now.

  I held my breath until Ian and Ben hauled the boys to the safety of shallow water.

  “Here.” Angela tossed down the rope.

  Ian made sure Ray had a good grip then shoved him halfway up the stone slabs. Ray’s soaked tennis shoes slid on the moss-slick limestone, but Angela grabbed his arm and pulled until he stood beside us on the muddy bank. “You’re in a world of trouble, boy,” Angela fussed, giving him a quick fierce hug and wrapping him in a dry towel.

  I took the rope from Ray’s cold fingers and tossed it down. Ian caught it, then gave Jake the rope and shoved him up the bank just as he’d done for Ray and me. Ian walked up the steep steps using the rope for balance then tossed it down to Ben.

  I met Ian at the canal’s edge, wrapped my arms around his waist, and hugged, hard.

  He slumped against me. His exhaustion twitched in muscles pushed past endurance.

  I held him close, our clammy T-shirts and jeans clinging together. He shivered, and I held him tighter, sharing what little warmth I had. “I have an idea,” I whispered in his ear. “Let’s go home and see who can get naked fastest.”

  Ian gave a weak laugh and brushed a lock of dripping hair away from my shoulder. “Lass, you’ve got a deal.”

  Somebody handed Ian a towel. He pulled out of my embrace to dry his hair and swipe at his saturated clothing. Ben brought Jake close, one hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got something to say to your Aunt Casey?”

  Jake hung his head and nodded without looking me in the face. “I’m sorry I disobeyed you, Aunt Casey. I won’t do it again.”

  I hugged him, both of us shivering. “I accept your apology.”

  Ben gave me a brief hug, then shook Ian’s hand. “Thank you for going down there to get the boys.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Angela hugged Ian, then me. “Thanks for saving my hard-headed son.” The sullen skies hurled a gust of cold raindrops at us. “We’d all better go home and get dry.”

  I patted my pockets—my car keys were gone. “Shit. I’ve lost my keys.”

  Ian put an arm around my shoulders. “We’ll deal with that tomorrow. I wouldn’t want to let you out of my sight anyway.” We walked hip-to-hip toward his car. Once inside, Ian started the engine and turned on the heater.

  I held my hands up to the vents. “You came home early. I wasn’t expecting you till late tonight.”

  “I missed you.” He backed the car out.

  I latched onto whatever brain cells I could still claim. “Have you spoken to Bianca?”

  “Umm-hmmm.”

  He kept his eyes on the rain-slick road to my house. After a minute, I
realized he had no intention of elaborating. Talking to a man can sometimes be worse than talking to a toddler. “So? Were you planning on telling me about it sometime soon?”

  “Umm-hmmm.” He cut a sultry glance my way. “I thought I’d wait until you were in a position to be suitably grateful.”

  “That sounds promising.”

  “I think you’ll like my solution.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I bought the Informer back.”

  I clapped my hands and bounced in my seat. I know it was juvenile and unladylike, but I couldn’t help it. “Ian, did you really?”

  “I really did.” His tone was weary. “Lost a load of money.”

  “It’s only money.” I put a soothing hand on his damp thigh.

  He covered my hand with his. “Easy for you to say. It’s not your money.”

  “Thank you, Ian. I love you for doing this.”

  “I thought you loved me anyway.”

  “I do love you anyway.” I unbuckled my seatbelt and leaned across the console to hug him. “You wouldn’t believe how much.”

  The car swerved for a second, then righted. “Lass,” Ian scolded, though I could hear a smile in his voice. “Sit down and buckle your seatbelt.”

  I sat back and fastened my seatbelt, patting his thigh and grinning so big my cheeks hurt. After a few minutes of watching the scenery fly by, I asked the question that had been burning a hole in my brain. “Will you really move back to Angel Falls? For good? You gonna buy that big house, or move in with me?”

  Ian gave a weak laugh. “You’re relentless, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am.” Happiness zipped and zinged through me like a million ping-pong balls. “You might as well give up now.”

  Ian parked in front of my house and walked around to open my door. He pulled me to my feet and into his arms. “If I had any sense, I’d have given up the moment I first saw you. It would have saved me a lot of grief—and money.”

  My heart expanded with the promise of all the happiness we had ahead of us. “I promise you won’t regret it, Ian. I’ll make you so happy, and I know you’ll love Angel Falls.”

  Ian scowled down at me then gave me a hard kiss to disguise the beginnings of a smile that ruined his fierce expression. When he lifted his mouth from mine, the smile he’d tried to tame tilted the corners of his mouth. “You just never let up, do you?”

  “Not usually.” He might as well know the truth now. “But if you want me to, I’ll try to change.”

  “No, lass.” With an affectionate pat on my soppy-wet butt, he turned me toward the house. We went up the steps with his arm around my shoulders, my arm around his waist. “I’ll take you exactly as you are.”

  EPILOGUE

  Twenty years later...

  We loaded the last few bridal shower gifts into the back of my car, and I slammed the trunk. The candy-apple red of the sleek Cadillac convertible gleamed in the weak February sunlight. I might have bought a VW bug if I’d had any say in the matter, but the Cadillac had been Ian’s idea of the perfect Christmas gift, and of course I was thrilled because it was another expression of his love for me.

  A gust of wind fluttered the hem of my long skirt and blew strands of my long, silver-streaked hair into my face. Shivering, I put an arm around Amy’s shoulders. “Let’s go inside. I have something else for you.”

  Amy leaned her head against mine. “Aunt Casey, you’re too good to me. You hosted the bridal shower, and you’re letting us take your new car on our honeymoon. Enough, already!”

  “This next gift isn’t a big one, just something I wanted you to have.”

  “Something borrowed?” she asked as we walked up the steps to the house.

  “No. This is for you to keep.”

  I held the door open for her and led her into the den, which still looked pretty much the same as the first day I’d walked into it. The leather furniture was a different set, but the hulking shapes and dark soothing colors were similar. The big oriental carpet underneath was different, something we’d found on one of our vacations and then had shipped home. I reached onto a high bookshelf and brought down the photo album, handing it to Amy.

  “Something blue,” she whispered, brushing her hand across the pale fabric cover.

  I laughed. “I wouldn’t recommend carrying it down the aisle. It is a little heavy.”

  Amy took the album to the couch and settled down on the thick cushions. Flipping open the heavy cover, she read the inscription out loud. “To Amy from Aunt Casey, with all the love in the world.”

  I sat next to Amy on the couch and put an arm around her shoulders. “Most of it is empty, for you to fill with your wedding photos. I took the liberty of starting it with a few pages of your family’s wedding history. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Mind?” Amy’s voice wavered, and she sniffed back tears. “How could I mind?”

  She touched the plastic-covered photograph of Melody and Ben on their wedding day with reverent fingers, outlining Melody’s face with one manicured fingertip. “She was so beautiful. I wish I could remember her.”

  “She loved you very much,” I said quietly. “She would have wanted to be here with you today. I’m sorry she’s not.”

  Amy gave a sad smile. “Me too.” The photo album flopped open in her lap while she leaned to hug me. “But you’re here, and you’ve been like a mother to me. I never felt deprived, not even before Dad remarried.”

  I returned her hug. “That’s sweet of you to say, honey. I know it’s not entirely true, but I appreciate the thought. And I’m so proud of you. You’ve turned out to be a wonderful woman, and you look so much like your mother. I see her every time I look at you.”

  I brushed a thick, silky lock away from Amy’s cheek. Her face was a perfect mix of Melody and Ben, taking the very best of each parent and combining them into a stunningly beautiful young woman.

  Amy leaned against me. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” I hugged her, then returned my attention to the photo album. I turned the page.

  “Oh.” Amy lifted the album just enough to take the chandelier’s glare off the page. “I didn’t know there was more.”

  I pointed to the first photo. “Your mom’s parents on their wedding day.” I slid my finger across to the opposite page. “And your dad’s parents on theirs. I had a hard time getting copies of these, I don’t mind telling you.”

  “I can’t believe you did all this, Aunt Casey.”

  “There’s more.” I turned to a photo of Ben and his wife of fifteen years.

  “Look at me in that picture,” Amy said with a touch of self-loathing in her voice. “I was so horrible to her in the beginning. I don’t know why it took me so long accept her.”

  I kissed the tip of my finger and placed it on the image of Amy’s scowling young face. “Because she wasn’t your mother. Not yet, anyway.”

  Amy giggled, then stifled the sound. “I shouldn’t laugh, but...”

  “What?”

  “Remember the Christmas I decorated the big evergreen outside our house with her underwear?”

  I laughed. “Your father had a fit.”

  “And we had a big argument, and I came to live with you and Uncle Ian for months.”

  “Weeks, maybe.”

  Just then, my teenage whirlwind, Sara, burst through the front door, leaving clumps of mud on the carpet. She rushed through wearing her riding clothes and boots. “I left my riding crop on the table,” she said breathlessly. On her way back out, she spared us an airy wave. “Daddy’s waiting. I get to ride Tempest today. Hi, Amy.”

  When the door slammed after Sara, Amy and I shared a moment of silence, then our gazes drifted down to the album once again. “This is the last photo,” I said, turning the page. “I couldn’t decide whether to put it in, because we’re not really family...”

  “Bite your tongue. If you and Uncle Ian aren’t family, I don’t know what family is.”

  “Look at us.” I admir
ed Ian’s handsome image and remembered how it felt to be sparkling with happiness. Actually, I still felt that way quite a lot of the time, so it wasn’t such a stretch. “We thought we were so old, but we were just babies, really.”

  “You were so beautiful,” Amy said, then sat up a little straighter when she realized she’d called me beautiful in past tense. “You still are.”

  I smiled serenely. “I guess we’re always beautiful to those who love us.”

  “This is me, isn’t it?” Amy pointed to a little imp wearing a hot-pink ballerina costume, her blonde curls decorated with pink silk flowers.

  “Yes, honey. My very best flower girl at the head of the line.”

  Amy laughed. “I can’t believe you had two hundred flower girls.”

  “Why not?” I pretended to take offense. “They all had perfectly good recital costumes to wear to the wedding.”

  “People still talk about the parade y’all had around the town square.”

  “Hey,” I huffed, “what’s an outdoor wedding without a parade? We couldn’t fit the wedding party into any of the churches, so our only option was to get married in the park. The streets were blocked off anyway, so of course we had to have a parade.”

  “I swear, Aunt Casey,” Amy leaned forward to study the picture. “It looks like you had everything at your wedding but elephants and dancing poodles.”

  I pointed to my old dog Lizzie, wearing her Aussie grin and a sequined tutu. “The poodles couldn’t make it, but we did have the world’s best Australian Shepherd leading the parade.”

  Acknowledgments:

  Thank you, thank you, thank you, to...

  My wonderful husband, Hans, my own personal hero, who never, not even once, complained about burned (or forgotten) dinners when I got too immersed in my writing world to remember the existence of that other world in which people were hoping to eat dinner sometime soon. Even though he did sometimes remind me of what his mother always said: “Where in the recipe did it say to walk away from the stove?”

  My children, who have brought such joy into our lives—and on the occasions they didn’t bring joy, at least they gave me something to write about. Christopher, Tessa, Natalie, I love y’all unconditionally.

 

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