The oven timer clanged, making Abby knock a pile of minced parsley to the floor. “The pizza’s half done,” she said, rushing to the pantry for a broom. “We need to serve our shrimp appetizers. Why don’t you call Heather to wash up?”
Angel knew avoidance when she saw it. Adults were masters of it. She shrugged. “Okay.”
EVEN THOUGH he knew he was late, Tom took his time driving to Abby’s house. He followed the directions she’d given him, studying the neighborhood. Abby’s house, situated at an angle on a corner lot, appeared older than its neighbors—stucco siding, shake roof, forest-green shutters and mature trees lent a charm the newer, bigger houses lacked.
He left his hat on the seat and ran his fingers through his unruly locks, wishing he’d had time for more than a quick dip in the chilly lake with a bar of soap.
“Hi, Daddy,” Heather called from the doorway. “We stayed up till midnight ’n watched three movies and I slept with Tabby—he really likes me, but Abby calls him Tubby ’cause he’s kinda fat.” Heather whispered the last word before sprinting barefoot across the hot sidewalk and launching herself into Tom’s open arms.
She wore a bright orange, two-piece swimsuit he hadn’t seen before. He squeezed her until she protested. “Not so tight, Daddy. Tubby doesn’t like it when I squeeze him either. See?” She thrust out her hand. A Day-Glo orange adhesive strip bisected her hand. “Abby wanted to call the doctor ’cause it bleeded, but Angel told her it was nothing. We went to the store and I got to pick out the ban’age. It matches my new swimming suit.”
“New…?”
She backhanded him, muffling his words. “Kiss it to make it feel better. Mommy always did.”
He obliged with a gallant flourish. “Does it still hurt?”
“No, silly. It was just a scratch. Angel says Abby worries too much. She worried about you, too.”
“Why me?”
“You said noon and it’s nearly four,” Abby said softly from the shadow of the doorway. The arched portal lent a European flavor to the entry; a twiggy wreath thick with dried flowers hung on the planked door.
“Sorry about that. I got a late start. Couldn’t find a couple of cows.” He wished he hadn’t accidentally sat on his sunglasses; they’d have given him something to hide behind. Although he’d spent the better part of two days trying to talk some sense into himself, the truth couldn’t be denied: he was in love with Abby Davis.
“Were they okay?” Abby asked, holding open the door to admit him. Her khaki shorts were fashionably sloppy; the rust-colored top was cropped, exposing bare midriff. A plastic clip of some kind held her hair back, but errant strands framed her face. Tom’s fingers itched to brush them back behind her ears.
He interpreted her tone as polite and caring, but still cool, as it had been since their kiss. Obviously, this gut-wrenching desire was all one-sided.
“Yep. One had a new calf.”
He ducked going through the doorway and shifted Heather to his left hip. The tiled foyer was cool and welcoming. “Sounds like you guys had a good time.”
Abby closed the door and smiled at Heather, who planted a big, sloppy kiss on Tom’s cheek. The worried look left Abby’s eyes and he heard her soft, wistful sigh. “We had fun, didn’t we, Heather?”
Heather’s bright curls danced across his line of vision and she used her small hands to turn his face to look into her eyes. “We ate pizza ’n nachos ’n jelly beans ’n popcorn…”
“Don’t give away all our secrets,” Abby scolded teasingly. “He’ll never let you come back.”
To Tom, she said, “We pigged out on junk food yesterday, but we ate real food today. There’s pasta and shrimp salad left, if you want some.”
He started to decline, planning to pick up a fast-food sandwich on the way home, but Heather wiggled free and pulled his hand, leading the way through the hallway toward the back of the house. “Come on, Daddy. Try it. Abby’s a good cook. Real good.”
Tom would have liked more than a quick glimpse of the dozen or so family photos grouped together on the wall, but Abby ushered him into a light-filled kitchen with a counter bar. An adjoining dining room seemed to share duty as a greenhouse, by the look of the lush, ceiling-high tropical plants.
Sitting on a soft stool, elbow up to the bar in the snug, aromatic kitchen with three females to wait on him, almost made up for his lonely night, Tom decided. The mountains had offered quiet, but the peace he craved eluded him. Too many thoughts raced through his head, and heart. They followed him down the hill, but he put them aside to watch in fascination the interplay between Abby and his daughters.
“Didn’t you say your dad would like that new salad dressing?” Abby asked Heather, who was hanging on the open refrigerator door.
“The Parmesan cheese is on the counter, Angel,” she said, giving the girl room to toss, quite messily, the reheated fettuccine. “You added just the right amount at lunch.”
Angel served him a heaping mound of noodles adorned with pretty touches of red and green. “Wow,” he said after the first bite, his taste buds exploding. “This is great. What is it?”
Abby’s cheeks colored like a schoolgirl’s. “Just pasta with sun-dried tomatoes, fresh parsley and roasted garlic. Your daughters helped every step of the process.”
Heather climbed into the chair beside him. “We picked the green stuff from Abby’s garden. You can eat it if you have bad breath.” In a lower voice, she added, “But it doesn’t taste as good as gum.”
Abby’s eyes twinkled as she looked up from putting a plate in the dishwasher. He’d have given anything to be able to take her in his arms and kiss her. Fortunately, he had his daughters close by to keep him sane.
When Abby and Heather disappeared into what Tom guessed to be the living room, he asked Angel, “Did you guys get along okay? Heather didn’t have a nightmare? Or wet the bed?”
She reached across the counter to put a hand on his arm in such an adult gesture of reassurance it almost took his breath away. My little Angel-babe is growing up. “No more wet beds, Dad. Wait till you see the great underpants Abby bought for Heather. They work like nighttime diapers only they look like real pants. Abby’s sister-in-law told her about them.”
“Great. I’ll buy a box. What about the nightmares?”
Angel shrugged. “She didn’t wake up once.”
“Really? Wow.”
“I think we wore poor Heather out, didn’t we, Angel?” Abby said, walking in during Tom’s exclamation. “We went swimming at Donna’s, grocery shopping, watched two and a half movies and ate nonstop.” She puffed out her cheeks.
If she’d put on an extra ounce of weight it sure didn’t show, Tom thought. He noted a bit of color on her legs and arms, though. “Did you put sunscreen on Heather? She swims like a fish but burns easily.”
Abby poked her upper arm and frowned. “I kept Heather lathered up but forgot about myself. I’d have fried if Angel hadn’t warned me.”
Tom scowled. He didn’t like the idea of Abby neglecting her own safety.
“Dad,” Angel said, distracting him, “we need a couple of minutes to get ready.” She leaned into him and whispered, “Keep Abby busy, okay? We’re making her something, and it’s not quite done.”
He nodded just before she disappeared.
“What was that all about?” Abby asked, refilling his glass of water.
He pushed back his plate and rose, stretching to relieve the cranky muscles that hadn’t been in a saddle for several weeks. “They need a couple of minutes to get their things together.”
“I’ll help…” She started to turn toward the doorway, but Tom caught her arm, stopping her in her tracks. She looked at him, her eyes big and surprisingly brown today.
“They need privacy. Something for you, I believe.”
Her lips formed an O but no sound came out.
Tom knew the smart thing would be to let go of her, but his fingers thought otherwise. They tightened, just enough to absorb the energy an
d warmth from her rosy skin. “I thought about you,” he admitted, immediately wishing he could take back the words.
“You shouldn’t.”
“Lots of things I should and shouldn’t do, but some things I don’t seem to have control over. You’re one of ’em. I head out to my special place where the wild grass stays green all summer and the frogs sing and the crickets talk and I lie down at night and look at the billion or so stars and I tell myself, ‘Don’t think about her.’ But wham. There you are.”
Instead of pulling back as he expected, she stepped closer to him. Close enough to smell. “What kind of perfume is that?”
Her forehead knit. “I’m not wearing perfume.”
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “I like it.”
His free hand went to the base of her spine and reeled her in. His fingertips connected with bare skin, warm and velvety. Her hips met his at a good spot. Her breasts touched his chest.
“Are you dancing, Daddy?” Heather asked, poking her head through the doorway. “Where’s the music?”
Abby jumped back guiltily. “Good point. I’ll go put some on.”
“Coward,” he softly murmured, then looked at his daughter, who was far too young to have such a mischievous look on her angelic face.
The soft strains of something classical filtered into the room.
“So,” Abby said, joining Tom and the girls a moment later. This time she left an arm’s length between them. “What’s up?”
Angel surreptitiously handed her sister a piece of paper the size of a greeting card. Heather stepped forward and handed it to Abby. “We made this last night while you were in the shower.”
Abby accepted it with great formality and held it out so Tom could see it, too. The cover displayed brightly colored explosions above a patch of green. The red, white and blue flags scattered around made Tom’s stomach tighten.
“It’s beautiful,” Abby said. “I’m so glad we ran across that old box of color crayons.”
“Open it up,” Angel said, a look of mischief on her face.
Abby opened the folded piece of paper. “Please join us for our Fourth of July party,” she read aloud.
Tom’s stomach turned all the way over. He had no trouble picturing Abby with his friends and family, but what would she think of a small-town festival complete with rinky-dink parade, barbecue and dance? Would a city girl have fun or be bored to tears?
Abby glanced at him, as if waiting for some encouragement. “I’d love to come, but maybe you should work this out with your dad first. He may have already invited other people.”
Angel snorted. “Yeah, his friends and their stupid kids. But there won’t be anybody I know there except you and Ed and Janey. Please say you’ll come.”
Tom wondered if this had something to do with Angel’s moodiness. Was she afraid to meet other kids? Maybe having Abby around would make it easier for her, another safety net or something.
“Yeah, Abby. I need you there, too,” Heather said. “What if I have to go potty and can’t find Angel? Daddy can’t take me ’cause he’s a boy, ’n I don’t wanna go alone. Mommy always told me I had to take a buddy with me. She was my buddy before but now she’s not.” Her bottom lip popped out.
Abby sank to one knee and opened her arms. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll go. You can be my buddy and I’ll be yours.” Heather surged into her arms and hugged her fiercely. Abby looked up as if begging for approval.
Tom smiled. It was either that, or cry.
CHAPTER TEN
ANGEL CHOSE one of the few remaining picnic tables in the park and heaved the wicker hamper onto the graffiti-grooved planks. She hopped up beside it to wait for the others.
What a geek fest, she thought, eyeing the small community park. People were already starting to stake out spots on the curb for the Fourth of July parade. Big whoop. The high-school band, some National Guard guys with flags, a few fat men on horses and politicians in convertibles. Big deal. When Heather first brought it up at Abby’s house, Angel saw this as a way to get Abby and her dad together, but now she didn’t care. She wasn’t speaking to him anymore.
Mom would have understood, Angel thought, drawing a strand of hair between her lips. At least she wouldn’t have had a cow if I asked to go home for a week.
A week in Riverside. See Caitlin and everybody. Shop in some real stores. Hang out. Big deal.
But when she asked her dad, he went all closed up and squinty-eyed.
“Did you talk to Val about this?” he demanded.
“No. I’d rather stay with Caitlin. Paige—Caitlin’s mother—said I was welcome anytime.”
He never really answered her, but Angel knew he didn’t want her to go. Janey said he was just being over-protective and told her to be patient. Donna wouldn’t back her up, either. “It’s a bigger step than you think,” Donna told Angel. “Maybe your father is wise to want to hold off.”
Sweeping her hair over one shoulder, Angel saw her father wrestle a cooler out of the back of the truck. Even being mad at him, she couldn’t help being proud of how he looked.
He exchanged greetings with a dozen different people—while organizing their picnic supplies. Angel’s heart flip-flopped in her chest. He worked so hard, doing all the things it took to run a ranch, plus caring for them, but there were things he just didn’t understand.
Peeking through a curtain of hair, Angel scanned the park. Old people and families. Her dad had invited some of his friends, who had kids her age, but the last thing Angel needed was to be foisted on some poor kid who had enough friends of her own.
“Hey, aren’t you Angel Butler?” a voice asked.
Angel spun around, drawing up her knees so her feet were flat on the table.
She recognized the chubby blonde who rushed up to greet her but before Angel could answer, the girl asked, “Remember me? I’m Trudy Gills.” She pushed her palms against her cheeks and opened and closed her lips, fishlike.
“Yeah, sure, I remember.”
The girl hopped up on the table beside her. The legs of her madras-plaid shorts rode up, pinching her plump thighs, and her white eyelet blouse tied just below fledgling bosoms exposed folded layers of baby fat. Suddenly, Angel didn’t feel so bad about her choice of outfit: black denim shorts and rust-red tank top with spaghetti straps.
“I’m going to 4-H horse camp this year,” Trudy told her. “Second week of August. They still got openings if you wanna come.”
“I might be going back ho…down to Riverside to see friends.”
Trudy lowered her voice. “All of the J-hotties are going to be there.”
“Really. What’s a J-hotty?”
“Jared Thomas. Jorges de Mano. Joey Dimenico.”
“Oh.” Boys.
“Move your butt, Angel, this is heavy,” her father said, lugging the oversize cooler toward the table.
She and Trudy scrambled down. Suddenly unsure of herself, she stood mute, feeling stupid.
“Hi, Mr. Butler. Remember me?”
After dumping his load, Tom plopped down on the seat so he was eye level with the smiling girl. “Larry Gills’s daughter, right? Tanya?”
Her bubbly laugh eased something tight in Angel’s chest. “Trudy,” both girls said at once.
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. I kinda like Tanya better.” She turned to Angel. “Wanna go get a snow cone? The line gets like a mile long after the parade.”
Angel looked at her father. They hadn’t spoken since last night when she’d stormed off to the barn, cussing as loudly and colorfully as possible.
His eyes were shaded by his cowboy hat, but his lips curled up at the corners. He fished a couple of bucks out of his pocket. “Have fun. Come back when you’re hungry. Bring anybody you can round up. Between Abby and Maria, we’ve got enough food to feed an army.”
Angel took a step, but for some reason turned back and hugged her dad. Tears threatened to ruin the makeup she’d put on just to spite him, but she
forced them back. Fortunately, Trudy was busy tying the laces of her thick-soled patent-leather sneakers.
“Nice shoes.”
“Thanks. You can borrow them sometime.”
“Cool.”
“Did you ever meet Jenna Macabbee? Her brother’s band’s playing this afternoon. He’s the coolest. Wait till you see his tattoo.”
TOM WATCHED Angel and her friend walk away. His heart hurt. If his arm were tingling, he’d have thought he was having a heart attack. Did this kind of thing happen to dads who grew up with their kids instead of jumping into their lives midstream?
“She’s made a friend. How wonderful!” a familiar voice said behind him.
“They knew each other from when Angel was here before.” He couldn’t turn around until he was sure there weren’t any tears in his eyes. “I’ve been trying to get Angel to call Trudy, but Angel wasn’t interested.”
“The timing wasn’t right. She wasn’t ready and now she is. I think it’s great.”
Tom glanced behind him. Abby’s arms were heaped to eye level. A bag of marshmallows teetered on top. He spun around in time to field the puffy bag.
“My mother would have called that a lazy man’s load,” he said, his voice too stern. He relieved her of three quilts and a rattan mat, revealing the top half of her sleeveless, V-neck denim sundress. Pebble-sized red, white and blue beads nestled against her lightly tanned throat.
She cocked her head at him and smiled, her glossy honey-colored lipstick inviting a kiss. “Tell that to your other daughter. She’s the one who loaded me up.”
She turned away to spread out the remaining quilt. Despite her effort to bend demurely, her dress, a loosely tailored affair with buttons from top to bottom, rose above midthigh, giving Tom a great view of her legs and a glimpse of red lace.
Suddenly sweating, Tom opened the second button of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves one more turn. He made himself turn away. “Where’s Heather?”
“Helping Janey and Ed. I hope Ed remembered his dolly.” After spreading out the other blankets, she straightened up and wiped a bead of sweat from her upper lip. “Is it too early for a beer?”
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