Angel Baby (Heaven Can Wait)

by Laura Marie Altom

  He should’ve called her a cab, but where would he have told Hester, the town’s only cabbie, to take her? Besides which, she was hurt. She might even need medical attention.

  So why bring her home?

  Why hadn’t he just made the long drive to the Harrison emergency room, then said his good-byes?

  Katie, giving his heartstrings a tug, answered his question with a soft coo. He’d do the right thing in the morning, but now he had to focus on his child, and if Katie was content, he was too.

  Hoping to uncover a clue to the woman’s past, Jonah asked, “Where’s your purse?

  “I don’t know.” She stared into the weak wash of headlights on the winter-hardened dirt road. The night was cloaked in black and all that could be seen on the road’s shoulders were dust-covered ghosts of summer weeds, lining the way like lithesome spectators, witnessing Jonah’s lies. “Guess I must’ve left it in the car. What happened with my accident’s still so foggy.” Fingertips to her forehead, she said, “Sorry I can’t remember more, but then…” She squeezed his upper arm, branding him through the worn flannel shirt he’d slipped on as a jacket. He wanted to jerk free, but couldn’t.

  She’d trapped him, hypnotized him with an invisible arsenal of awareness. Before finishing her sentence, she leaned her head on his shoulder. “...Now that I’m back with you and Lizzy, I guess nothing else matters, does it?”

  Oh, he could think of plenty that mattered.

  Stuff like telling her the truth and not sinking any deeper into this charade. But then the faint expensive scent of her hair drifted over to him and its silken strands whispered miracle cures for Katie against his cheek. And then he was saying, “Nope. Nothing matters except that you’re safe.”

  Jonah entered the house first, hugging Katie to his chest, drawing strength from her familiar baby smells of lotion and shampoo. He reminded himself while keeping busy turning on lights that everything in the house was as it should be.

  The grandfather clock standing sentinel at the foot of the stairs still ticked. Yesterday’s dirty black T-shirt and jeans still lay in a ball beneath the second-story landing, right where he’d thrown them, planning to carry them later to the enclosed laundry porch but never having found the time. Two half-empty coffee mugs and a Styrofoam cup still sat on one of the end tables, along with a Doritos bag and Coke can that’d been there so long mold sprouted out of the top. The musty smell was a curious blend of it all—dirty clothes and dishes, dust and mold, and damp earth floating through the open kitchen window.

  From town, a late-night coal train blared a double warning to any teens planning to race it across the trestle bridge at Riverside Park.

  See? He had nothing to be nervous about. Nothing had changed. Men his age brought home women for sleepovers every night of the week.

  Yeah, only those were women for the men to feast on—not their babies!

  With at least four more lamps shining than necessary, Jonah felt exposed. He ran a tight ship at the diner, so what’d happened at home?

  “I see you’ve missed me.” He didn’t want to be charmed by his guest’s grin, but she was so damned pretty, he couldn’t help it. She stepped around a plastic laundry tub overflowing with pureed-peach-stained baby clothes to reach the coffee table littered with the paper and foil remains of take-out dinners. “Haven’t been doing much cooking?

  He shrugged. “I cook all day at the diner, I figure what’s the point in doing it here? It’s just as easy to wrap up a burger and fries to go.”

  “Easy, but not healthy.” She absentmindedly drew a heart in the dust atop his mother’s baby grand.

  The instrument had been a fifteenth-anniversary gift to his mom from his dad. Jonah remembered her sitting ramrod straight on the black leather bench, her long, slender fingers draped over the keys. She’d closed her eyes when she’d played, and the look on her face as she’d keyed Chopin and Schultz, Diabelli and Schumann, had convinced him that she was the most talented, beautiful woman in the world.

  Of course, Blue Moon had never been a hotbed of musical talent, so maybe that explained why when Geneva had pinged out that Celine Dion song from Titanic, he’d been touched.

  Every day until dying of a sudden stroke in her sixties, his mom had played this piano, filling the Queen Anne home that had been old even back then, with love. She’d used her music to pour her feelings into the air. Now the piano sat fallow, a collection of dirty baby bottles riding on top, one of which had spilled a milky pond of formula into the dust.

  With the sleeve of his flannel shirt, Jonah swiped the spot dry, but he was too late. The liquid had already left a mark. “Guess I’ve kind of let the place go to seed,” he said, hating what had become of his life.

  “And just think, I’ve only been gone a few days. What would’ve happened had I been gone any longer?” The woman’s laughing eyes showed she was teasing, as did her quick peck on his cheek, then Katie’s. Even though the moment had been fleeting, the warmth of her lips stayed with him. “Here,” she held out her arms. “Let me take the baby. We need to get reacquainted.”

  “Sure.” He tried not to notice their arms brushing as he passed Katie into her waiting embrace. She’d removed her red leather jacket, revealing a sleeveless ribbed tee. White, no bra, clinging to her curves like paint. Then there was Katie snuggling into the woman’s hold, flushed cheek resting against her bare chest. Before, when Jonah had looked at his baby, he’d seen fragility and fear. Now all he saw was contentedness, her tiny body visibly limp with what in his adult mind he could only guess was a full tummy and relief.

  The men in Jonah’s family had a long-standing tradition of constructing rockers to commemorate births. The woman gravitated toward the rocker he’d made for Geneva upon Katie’s arrival. It sat in the room’s bay window in the rosy glow of lamplight cast by a Tiffany reproduction. Geneva had hated that lamp, along with the rocker, and the rambling old house. The stranger, however, sank into the low seat with ease, then, baby held over her heart, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Mmm…” Her voice barely registered in the thick silence. “Have you ever had one of those moments when you just knew soul-deep that everything was going to be all right?”

  “Um, no.” Jonah cleared his throat. “Guess I can’t say that I have.”

  “Well, I have. Right this minute. Lizzy feels so warm against me and her hair is soft on my chin. And she smells good—sugary-sweet, like a baby should. And you’re over there, looking sturdy and handsome, hovering like a papa bear, ready to defend your two ladies, should anyone question our honor.”

  Tell her, every fiber of Jonah’s being urged. Tell her the truth. Who you are. Who she isn’t.

  He should have told her, but he didn’t.

  Lord help him, he couldn’t stop himself from slipping ever deeper into her fantastic realm. It was late. He was bone-tired. The whole scene had taken on a dreamlike quality.

  He was stuck on the spokes of the vast, dreamy web she’d spun of them being a family. He was stuck on images and emotions that evoked long-buried blueprints for the way he’d planned his life to be. All he’d ever really wanted was to be a good husband and father, to run his diner and provide a comfortable living for those he loved—just as his father had before him.

  He was a man of simple needs and even simpler dreams, yet those had always been enough.

  Then Geneva had left, and he thought he’d never have a shot at those dreams ever coming true. But, crazy as the notion seemed, standing before this woman and his child, he knew the awareness humming through his system was far more than mere appreciation.

  Maybe it was because he’d been without a woman for so long, or maybe because of the way she cradled Katie against her full breasts? Maybe it was the springtime lilt of her voice, the way her very breath seemed filled with burgeoning hope and the promise of renewed life? Whatever it was, he had the craziest urge to kneel at her feet and beg her to make everything all right.

  Over the past months, loneline
ss and confusion had overwhelmed him. But now, here, standing before a woman with hair the shade of sweet cream butter and eyes of the purest aquamarine, he had the sensation that everything would be all right—at least he’d had that sensation for a few brief moments before realizing that everything had never been more wrong.

  This woman wasn’t his anymore than she was Katie’s. And first thing in the morning he had to give her back.

  Chapter Four

  “Damn straight you will,” Geneva muttered.

  “Language, language.”

  “What? I’m supposed to be happy over this bimbo stepping into my life?”

  “Your life? Isn’t there a detail you seem to be forgetting?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like… you’re dead.”

  Geneva’s shoulders slumped—at least what was left of her shoulders. Geez, being dead was hard work. Dealing with Mr. Grecian Formula, birds winging through her boobs, riding around on a drafty cloud…When would she get to the part of afterlife where she got to lounge alongside some trippin’ galaxy being served hard lemonades and hot wings by male stripper-angels, as opposed to being lectured by this snooty old know-it-all?

  “In due time, my dear. In due time.’’

  Geneva shot him a look. “Would you knock it off with the mind reading? A girl needs her privacy.”

  “As you wish,” he said with one of his uptight bows that didn’t mean diddly. She knew damned well he’d be back at it in five minutes—if he even stopped that long. He cast her a pathetically patronizing look. “Besides, you’ve been at this death business long enough now that you’re ready to proceed with your lessons.”

  Geneva arched her eyebrows. “You mean learning that bimbo is taking over my family isn’t enough? There’s more fun ahead?”

  “Watch it,” Hercules said with a particularly hair-singeing bolt of lightning. “You’re treading on very thin ice, Geneva Kowalski-McBride. By your own admission, you gave that family away. Abandoned your very own flesh and—”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Silence. I know all about your so-called reasons. How your mother left when you were a small child. And how you thought your baby would be better off without a mother than with a mom who didn’t know the first thing about being a good parent. But you know what all that is, Geneva?”

  “What?” she asked, raising her chin a defiant notch.

  “A cop-out. You were so into your own pain and confusion concerning the past, that you didn’t even try fixing the future.”

  She sighed. “Great. So, we established, like, two hours ago that I’m a screw-up in every area of my life—or rather I was a screw-up. Now, I don’t know what I am.” She shot her gaze his way. “Are screw-ups allowed in Heaven?”

  “Only if they watch their language.”

  Chapter Five

  “Well, um… Jonah did the only thing he felt capable of doing, which was clearing his throat. “It’s late. Why don’t you let me take Katie and I’ll put her to bed.”

  “Katie?” The beautiful stranger crinkled her nose. “Don’t you mean Lizzy?”

  “Yeah, sure. Sorry, I sometimes forget.”

  “You forget our child’s name?”

  “You forgot my name.” Once the words were out, Jonah regretted them. He regretted the pain flashing through her eyes, but most of all he regretted not having the courage to have said, you not only forgot names, but entire lives.

  “Oops.” She playfully conked her head. “You got me.” In an instant, her smile returned. “Okay, so let’s get reacquainted. I know I love you, but I guess I need a name to go along with that love, huh?”

  “My name’s Jonah.”

  “Jonah and Lizzy. What sweet names for my little family.”

  “Yeah.” Names. He’d never before thought of them in terms of carrying significant weight, but obviously her baby was named Lizzy.

  Her baby.

  God forbid, had the infant and her father died in the car crash? As much as Jonah had briefly, selfishly, wanted the woman to belong to Katie and him, he’d never wish her family dead.

  She furrowed her forehead. “Okay, so now I know both your names, but what’s mine?”

  “Angel.” The word came from out of nowhere to spill past his lips.

  “Angel? I feel like more of a Violet or a Rose—you know, some kind of flower name. Or maybe a color?”

  He shrugged, telling the truth when he said, “I only know you as Angel.”

  “If you say so.” She eyed him up and down. “You look tired. Why don’t you go on to bed? I slept so much back at the diner that now I’m kind of wired. I think, for now, I’ll just stay up with the baby, then join you later.”

  Jonah gulped. The issue of sleeping arrangements hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Um, I’ll crash in the guest room. That way, you can have the whole bed to yourself.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said with a shy, half-moon sliver of a smile. “Why wouldn’t you want to share the bed with me? I’ve been gone for days. I missed you. Haven’t you missed me?”

  Lord, what to do?

  Tell her the truth. “Look, um, Angel, I haven’t exactly been—”

  Katie whimpered, then started in with one of her full-blown wails.

  “Hungry again so soon?” When she talked to Katie, Angel’s voice took on a cushiony-soft tone befitting her new name. “Guess we’ll have to feed you, won’t we?” In seconds, she bared her right breast and the hungry infant latched on.

  Jonah’s breath caught in his throat.

  Had any man been in a more bizarre situation?

  On the one hand, he was deliberately withholding the truth from this trusting woman. On the other, Katie desperately needed Angel—not only her milk but her touch.

  Sure, when Geneva had first left, women from town had helped him around the clock with the baby, but once he’d turned bitter, his gruff manner had gotten on their nerves. Not to mention the fact that their eternal chipperness had grated his nerves. When they’d started lecturing him on his lack of faith in the future, he’d given them the cold shoulder. But now he wasn’t so sure he’d made the right decision. Evidently, children needed a mother’s touch.

  But Angel isn’t Katie’s mother.

  Jonah slashed his fingers through his hair. Like he needed that fact pointed out yet again.

  “Isn’t she the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen?” Angel’s lush hair cascaded over her cheek and onto Katie’s. She tucked pale gold strands behind her ear, then traced the baby’s eyebrows with the tip of her pinkie finger. “I can’t believe how much I’ve missed her. Feels like it’s been weeks since I’ve seen her, instead of days.”

  “Yeah, well… Jonah shifted from one foot to the other. “You know what they say about time getting away from you.”

  “I guess. I don’t know… I’m just glad to be back.” Her gaze fell again to Katie who, though still suckling, had closed her eyes. “You sound tired, Jonah. Why don’t you go to bed? Really, Lizzy and I will be fine.”

  “How? You don’t even know where her room is.”

  Angel rolled her eyes. “It’s not that big a house, sweetheart. I lived here before and learned the routine. Don’t you think I can figure it out again?”

  “I guess.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll meet you in bed.”

  Jonah wanted to say more on the bedroom issue, but figured if he went ahead and set up camp in the guest room she’d get the hint. “Right. See you in the morning.”

  She blew him a soft kiss. The haunted look in her eyes told him that she expected him to return it, but he couldn’t, so he headed for the stairs.

  “Jonah?” she asked.

  “Yeah?” He turned in time to see tears roll down her cheeks. The urge to go to her squeezed his chest but he stoically held his ground.

  “I get the feeling something’s not quite right between us.”

  “Oh?”

  “For a man whose wife has just returned after having disappeared, I
would think, or at least hope, you’d show more emotion. I mean, I am Lizzy’s mother. Were we… I mean, did we have a fight before I left?”

  He sighed. How come no matter how hard he tried distancing himself from this woman, she had a knack for digging him deeper into his own lie? Still, maybe if he led her down the path she was well on her way to taking, it would at least provide a bedroom solution.

  “Jonah? Please answer. Your downright gloomy expression when I asked the question tells me I’m at least partially right.”

  “Sorry.” His mind raced for a logical conclusion for why they’d fought. The first rationale coming to him were the ones Geneva had used. That he was too broke and their house too run-down, and the town and their life too boring. But what right did he have to inflict those opinions on Angel when she wouldn’t even be staying past morning? Now was the perfect time to tell her the truth. But why get her all upset, when if he said nothing she could at least get some sleep? “You’re right,” he said, making a snap decision to say anything just to get through the night. “When you left, we’d been arguing.”

  “Over what?”

  “Money.”

  “I don’t remember that being a problem.”

  “How could you? You don’t even remember your own name.”

  “Why are you being cruel?”

  “I’m not. Just calling a spade a spade.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you?”

  More tears. “Yes. That’s why I can tell you don’t want to sleep with me.”

  “Angel…” How come this hurt as bad as if they’d been fighting for real?

  “Please, Jonah. Just stop.” Katie had fallen asleep at Angel’s breast, and she gently shifted the baby to her shoulder before discreetly drawing down her T-shirt. “I understand. But if you insist on us sleeping in separate beds, why don’t I take the guest room?”

  Why did he suddenly feel like such an ass?

  Probably because that’s what I am. “I’ll take the guest room. You’ll be more comfortable in the master.”