by M. J. Labeff
She raised her eyes from her reading. “Dr. Von Langley made sure I did what you said.”
“I’m glad you listened,” Derrick replied, then turned to Dr. Von Langley. “Thanks for taking care of her.”
“Well, it’s the least I could do. We took a short walk in the garden early this morning, and I’m afraid that was poor judgment on my part for both of us. I suppose Angel should still be resting her ankle. She’s welcome to stay until she’s fully recovered.”
Something about the offer made Derrick’s skin crawl. The doctor knew Angel shouldn’t have been walking on her twisted ankle, but he’d taken her out for a walk anyway. Derrick wasn’t sure what Dr. Von Langley was up to, but an uneasy feeling twisted in his gut. Although he hadn’t found enough information to make a determination on the doctor’s methods of treatment, his work bothered Derrick. Perhaps Dr. Von Langley’s colleagues didn’t have the courage to question the doctor, but Derrick wasn’t going to stop digging around in Dr. Von Langley’s past until he was satisfied.
“I noticed you’re limping today. Did you have an accident?”
“Funny thing, I was showing Angel the rose garden when all of sudden a sharp pain cut across the back of my knee. It felt like someone whacked me with something. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Derrick removed the bandage that was wrapped around Angel’s ankle and did some basic manipulations. “Would you like me to take a look at it, Dr. Von Langley?” Derrick asked.
“Not necessary, but thank you. I hate to admit it, but I’m sure it’s age catching up with me. You know how it is, a creak here, a snap there.”
Derrick didn’t take his eyes off Angel’s swollen and purple ankle. He’d hoped it would have looked better today so he could take her out of Dr. Von Langley’s care without insulting him. She could still use rest, but he wasn’t sure if leaving her here was in her best interest. “This doesn’t look so good. You need to keep it elevated and iced.” How could he tell her he was taking her to a youth home for girls? Eventually she would have to leave; maybe it’d be better if he took her out of this environment before she became more comfortable living in the lap of luxury. “Dr. Von Langley, thanks for everything. I’ll be taking Angel to a youth home for girls so she can recover.”
“That’s not necessary. She can stay here.”
“You’ve done so much all ready, I couldn’t impose,” Derrick said, redirecting his attention to Angel. He wrapped her ankle. “I think Angel will be comfortable recovering at a group home.”
“No. If you wanna get rid of me, take me back to High Point with Sly.” She slammed the book shut. Her chin defiantly jutted out, and she gave Derrick a scrutinizing look. “Those homes are no better than living on the streets. I’m not taking any chances being placed in foster care to become Daddy’s little girl or little whore or Mommy’s little house slave or babysitter.”
She tossed the book down on the table, angrily pushed herself up from the chair, and hobbled toward the open library door. Dr. Von Langley moved in her direction, stepping in front of her. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked directly at her.
“Angel, that’s no way to treat Dr. Sloan. He only wants to help. I want to help. Please, go sit down and allow him to finish looking at your ankle.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, and obediently hobbled back into the chair. “Sorry, Dr. Sloan, please don’t make me go to some group home. They suck.”
The sadness in her eyes had Derrick second-guessing himself about his decision. He couldn’t help but notice the profound impression Dr. Von Langley had on her, and that further confounded him. Another day might not do any harm, he reasoned. Besides, Angel was right. Derrick was familiar with most of the runaway shelters, and compared to staying here, they did suck.
Dr. Von Langley cleared his throat. “Derrick, it’s not a problem. She’ll stay here for a few days. By then the ankle should be better and we’ll figure out things later.”
“Yes!” Angel pumped her fist in the air and bounced up and down in her seat.
Derrick couldn’t help but smile at her. Angel looked up at him with raised brows, wide eyes, and her head bobbing up and down. Something about Angel’s toothy grin and giddy-girl behavior reminded him of his sister before she ran away.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes, yes, I’m sure!” Angel shouted.
“Not you, kiddo, I was talking to Dr. Von Langley. What about Mrs. Von Langley? I don’t want to burden you with this while she’s ill.”
When the happiness evaporated from Angel’s face, Derrick’s heart sank. He hated taking this small bit of happy from her. He was to blame for her busted ankle. The least he could do to make up for it was this.
“Cora will be just fine. Besides, it’ll give Angel some time to finish a great classic.”
“Please, Dr. Sloan, I want to stay here. Dr. Von Langley is so nice, and I won’t be any trouble. I promise.”
“Okay, okay.”
He went against his gut and agreed with his heart. He couldn’t bear to see Angel sad, and he didn’t have substantial evidence proving Dr. Von Langley’s unethical practices. Besides, it was only for a few days.
First do no harm. He reconsidered leaving Angel here with a doctor he didn’t know would do the same. He’d keep a close eye on things during the next few days, especially looking for any sudden or severe changes in Angel. Already she was acting like a different kid—although for the better, Derrick couldn’t put down the nagging suspicion that something was off.
Chapter 17
Cora grew agitated and despondent, and talking to her was useless. Quietly, Sparrow closed the door to her mother’s suite and crept down the hall to her old bedroom. Thinking about her father and Angel in the garden reminded her about what had happened when she came out of the deep meditation.
The dead girl from the ocean had frightened her half to death. The loud chiming sound of the charm bracelet echoed in Sparrow’s head. The girl was trying to tell her something. But what? She slumped down under the canopy bed, resting her chin against her clasped hands. She stared at the pale pink wall.
Was the girl a friend from her past? Had she come back from the dead with a strange warning or demand?
Stop him, she had requested of Sparrow.
Who was the him that she was supposed to stop? The desperate sound of the girl’s voice made her hands shake so hard that Sparrow shoved them under her thighs. She rocked back and forth. An uncomfortable chill danced up her spine and did an eerie cha-cha along her arms and down her legs. The shaking took hold of her entire body.
Soon her father would come looking for her. She needed to get it together. She pulled her tucked hands out from under her thighs. Holding her right hand in front of her face, she watched it shake. She closed her eyes and splayed her arms vertically. She took several deep breaths and steadied herself.
She didn’t remember owning a charm bracelet or collecting charms, but searching for one was worth a shot. It was all she had to go on.
Time was running out. Start looking. You’re wasting precious minutes. Bracing her hands against the mattress, she pushed herself up from the bed and went straight to the music box on top of her dresser.
Slowly, she raised the lid. Fearful the wind-up music would sing out, she shut it. She picked up the music box and stared down at the pink swirls and black music notes dancing around a ballerina doll. The ballerina pirouetted on one toe, her other leg raised to her inner thigh, a perfect yoga tree pose.
Sparrow flipped on the light switch and went inside the walk-in closet. She closed the door behind her. The large, insulated mansion muffled plenty of sounds, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She flipped open the music box lid. Carousel music tinkled out. The ballerina spun on one toe. Sparrow touched the stiff fabric of the white tutu the twirling ballerina wore. The enchanting music and hypnotic dancer stalled her. She shook her head out of the trance and dipped her finger into the bottom of the red-velvet-lined box.
Poking around the contents, she recognized some of the childhood jewelry she’d worn. A pair of small pink diamond stud earrings and a matching ring that she could barely squeeze over her pinky, and her first pair of tiny gold hoops. Where was the charm bracelet? If she’d worn one, it would be in here. A snake pit of necklaces coated the bottom. Carefully, she tried to untangle the mess.
She threw the chains down and opened the small compartment to the left of the music box. The music slowly wound down, along with her trigger-ready nerves firing shots of fear throughout her body. If her father came in, how could she explain standing in the closed closet searching the jewelry box? Hurry, hurry. You’re almost home free.
The charm bracelet lay coiled on the velvet lining. With a shaky hand, she plucked the bracelet clustered with trinkets between two fingers. Her heart crawled into her throat. The thick lump made it difficult to breathe. Rapid little beats pumped blood and adrenaline through her veins. She dangled the bracelet in front of her eyes, searching for answers. The thick charms clanked together and demanded she hear them over the dying music box.
At a glance, she didn’t recognize the bracelet or any of the charms. Why wouldn’t she have remembered wearing it if it belonged to her? She fingered a pair of skis crossed like scissors. A snow-covered ski slope dangled next to it. Where did this come from?
She pocketed the bracelet in her hoodie and shut the lid of the music box. Time was up. Eventually her father would miss her. By now the garden supplies would have been hauled out of the trunk of her car. Her father would expect her and her mother to make an appearance. She closed the walk-in closet door and tiptoed out of her bedroom.
She descended the stairs to the mansion’s main floor. She heard voices coming from the west wing and recognized them both. Her father and Derrick were talking. Her foot landed on the marble floor just as the two men, Angel trailing behind them, came around the corner.
At this rate, she was certain she would die from a heart attack. Her heart thudded in her chest at the sight of Derrick. His light brown hair was lightly gelled and combed back. She smiled at the unruly lock curling behind his ear. A sharp contrast to the rigid crease in his dress slacks and starched dress shirt, a crooked tie hung slack around his neck. He must’ve had a patient appointment this morning. He dressed impeccably for his concierge patients. She suspected he felt more comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt.
She recognized the sparkle in his brown eyes when he stepped away from her father’s side and noticed her. He excused himself from the conversation and walked in her direction. A man with a purpose, he approached her with a smile.
“I didn’t sleep much last night, you?” he asked.
“Me neither.”
“I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice. “Do you have time for lunch?”
She raised her finger, signaling she’d answer in a minute. Looking past Derrick’s shoulder to her father, she said, “Daddy, Mother is not up to planting today. Can you have the stuff put in the potting shed?”
“Sure, sweetheart.”
Sparrow directed her attention back to Derrick, who never took his eyes from her when he said, “Angel, you might want to get comfortable somewhere. I don’t want you walking on that ankle.”
Angel frowned at his back. “Fine.”
“Come on, Angel, you can elevate your ankle in the kitchen while the chef makes lunch,” Dr. Von Langley said, and motioned for her to follow him.
Her father continued to favor his left leg. The charm bracelet grew heavy in her pocket. She wondered about the connection between her father and the dead girl from the ocean.
Derrick’s knuckles grazed the side of her cheek. “Hey, is everything all right?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”
His calm voice, raspy from lack of sleep, sounded sincere and sexy, and his eyes reached into her soul, begging her for forgiveness. Part of her wanted to stay angry at him, but the other part of her, the part that found him irresistible, won the fight.
“That’s right, you shouldn’t have, but I have a better idea than lunch. Let’s go to my place. I’ll let you make it up to me.”
Chapter 18
Derrick hadn’t anticipated her forgiving him so easily, and he definitely hadn’t planned on her inviting him back to her house. It sounded like she was thinking about picking up where they’d left off last night. Nah, it was the early afternoon.
Too bad she’d insisted on driving her car. He might have gotten a read on her if she was sitting next to him in the passenger seat of his car. It didn’t matter. Obviously, she wanted them to be alone.
If she did want to make love, this time he wasn’t going to blow it. He wouldn’t allow his investigation into her father to get between them. He hadn’t hired a private investigator to dig into her father’s past. It was his curiosity about the doctor, and nothing more.
“Yeah, right,” he mumbled. His gut twisted from thinking about Dr. Von Langley’s “rice” method.
And only God knew what kind of visualization therapy he’d recommended. It sounded as absurd as telling a migraine headache sufferer to imagine sucking on a lemon. Supposedly focusing their mind on the taste of a bitter, sour lemon would alleviate the headache because they weren’t focused on the excruciating pain. Derrick wasn’t a pill dispenser; however, most people with migraine headaches courted other risks if the blood vessels constricted further. He prescribed an appropriate med.
Meds. Dr. Von Langley could prescribe psychotherapeutic drugs. How often, and what cases would require medication? All of them? Some of them? Derrick wasn’t an expert on mental illnesses. His temple started a slow throb. If he kept up this line of thinking, he’d end up with a migraine.
The only consolation he had for now was Angel. She’d appeared so happy with her stay at the Von Langleys that she’d begged him to allow her to stay there while she recuperated. A good sign.
Dr. Von Langley had treated her well, considering Mrs. Von Langley confined herself to her bedroom. What had caused her shock and agitation when she saw Angel for the first time? What was Cora Von Langley’s state of mind? Sparrow hadn’t gotten into specifics regarding her mother’s depression.
Derrick turned the volume up on the radio. To alleviate the gradual pounding in his head, he opted for the soothing sounds of classical music. He imagined making love to Sparrow, while the slow, seductive rhythm of a master composer’s concerto lured them toward passion. It’d been too long since he’d held a woman close. He sped toward her beach house, and the tires squealed to a screeching halt in the parking space.
He gripped the steering wheel. He blew out his breath. He hoped he hadn’t assumed too much about her invitation.
He looked at his watch. The Mobile Health Clinic RV was in the shop, but even without it, he wouldn’t miss a night of work. Those poor kids counted on him. Guilt wormed its way into his potential good time with Sparrow.
It’d been such a long time since he’d enjoyed the company and closeness of a woman. He deserved some happiness, and Sparrow made him happy. Her kindness, calm demeanor, and caring was everything he’d wanted in a wife.
Wife? He hadn’t even shared her bed. Had he fallen harder for her than he realized? His revved-up libido needed to shut up.
She appreciated his work, and it showed when she volunteered. He liked working with her, and looked forward to seeing her on those nights. They enjoyed helping people, and her compassion for the runaway kids they served showed. Building a life together and supporting each other’s charitable work would seem effortless with her.
He approached her front door. The desire to hold her and ask her about everything she wanted out of life overwhelmed him. He pounded on the frame.
“It’s open!”
She came around the corner and greeted him with a warm smile. He pulled her into his arms, kicking the door shut with the heel of his shoe. He knitted his fingers behind the small o
f her back. He ran his thumbs along her hipbones, tracing the sculpted curve of her sexy hips, and she twitched under his caress.
Her eyelids half closed under his touch. “That tickles,” she said, but didn’t resist his advances.
He dipped his head to hers and devoured her lips. She wrapped her hands around his neck, rising on her tiptoes, meeting his ferocious kiss with the same hunger. His tongue swept the inside of her mouth, tasting her sweetness, a combination of sugary lip gloss and warm tea.
Her fingers ran through his hair, twisting the strands at the base of his neck. His need for her ached. He picked her up, and her legs wrapped around his middle. Her thighs tightened around him, sparking the fire in their kiss. The urge to rip the clothes off her body and take her right here, pinned against the closed door, crossed his mind. Her lithe body moved with grace, and he imagined her flexibility made her an exquisite lover.
Like wild animals, the frenzy to mate with each other took hold. She pawed at his hair. He inhaled the subtly sweet scent of her warm body, her natural pheromones ever so present. He had to make her his. Now. Right now.
“Derrick,” she sighed against his lips.
“I want you.”
“Then take me.”
He carried her to her bedroom. His heart pumped with anticipation. He couldn’t wait to undress her, to touch her and get up close and personal with her most intimate parts.
They ripped and pulled at each other’s clothes. He yanked down the zipper on her jacket, while she tore the tie from around his neck, and buttons popped off his dress shirt. She stepped back and crossed her arms at her waist, peeling the camisole past her toned abs and puckered nipples and over her head. Derrick struggled to kick off his shoes and socks. She slid the tight yoga pants down her legs. Sparrow reached for the waistband of his dress slacks and fumbled to release his belt buckle. His pants fell to the floor, and she followed them. He stepped out of pooled fabric and kicked them to the side.