“I’m impressed. That took a lot of patience, and you don’t impress me as the patient kind.”
“I can be plenty patient. What’d you bring? Maybe I can read some of your stuff.”
“I’ve got a few investment magazines.”
She made a face. “Sounds dry.”
“Not to me. It’s how I make my living.”
He went to his suitcase and unzipped the outer compartment. He withdrew two magazines. Padding barefoot, he came over to the bed, tossing them down beside her. “Give them a try. It’s that or my Bible.”
“I’ll read the investment stuff, thank you very much.”
“Suit yourself.” He shrugged, retrieving his Bible and returning to the bed. He wedged the second pillow against the headboard and leaned back with a sigh. “Yes, this is much better.”
Angel chose the first magazine. Articles on multistream investment income and mutual funds practically made her eyes cross with boredom. The second magazine was even drier than the first. She set it aside, longing for her Martha Stewart collection. Glancing around at the spare furnishings, she figured Eleanor could use a subscription. Maybe she’d send her one for Christmas. But that was probably verboten, too. Jonathon probably wouldn’t want her to have anything frivolous.
“It’s hard to concentrate with you huffing and sighing over there.” Matthew’s tone held a touch of annoyance.
“Your reading selection sucks.”
“So sue me.”
“It didn’t take them long to move in Ruth’s stuff next door. Of course, around here, a woman probably isn’t allowed much.”
“As long as it’s functional.”
“Why does everything have to be functional? Why can’t a woman have something because it’s beautiful or makes her smile?”
“I don’t know. You’d have to ask Jonathon. My mom could have used a twelve-step program for all her knickknack collecting after we left the group. I never thought about it much, but I bet that’s the reason.”
“And she shops a lot, too, doesn’t she?”
“Yes. Buys some of the most useless stuff.”
“Exactly. She has choices.”
He shrugged. “Probably.”
“You don’t care?”
“Not really. Her shopping is a quirk. I love her, quirks and all.”
“But you don’t care about the underlying psychological reason for her obsession with shopping and collecting?” Did the man not have an inquisitive bone in his body?
“No, I don’t. I’ve delved into the past about as much as I’m comfortable. Now I’d like to concentrate here.” He gave her a pointed glare.
“Sure. Go ahead. Read your book. While I sit here and die of boredom. I’m not used to inactivity, you know. I should be out jogging or on the shooting range. Not sitting here with only investment magazines to entertain me.”
“You’re not going to shut up, are you?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “No, I’m not. Misery loves company.”
He carefully closed his Bible and handed it to her. “Here, try this. It’s got every story known to man in it. Lust, murder, romance, redemption—it’s all there.”
She picked up the book. “Really? I never got much past the begetting part.”
“Start with the New Testament. Matthew, for instance. It might spark your interest more. Or look up subjects in the back.”
Angel was intrigued in spite of herself. She opened the book and starting flipping through until a header caught her attention. “King David was one flawed guy,” she commented.
“He was human. But a great leader, too.”
“So what makes him different than someone like Jonathon?”
“David lost his way for a while, but he ultimately turned to God for guidance. Jonathon believes he is God.”
Another header caught her attention. Matthew was right—there were some intense stories. “Hmm. Why don’t you look at that finance magazine. I’m trying to read.”
His chuckle barely registered.
A few minutes later she checked the index for the reference on love. She wanted to find the passage Matthew had read to her their first night at Zion’s Gate. Something about love being patient and kind…
A knock at their door drew her out of her reading. Surely it couldn’t be suppertime already?
Matthew answered the door and returned with a tray. His eyes glinted with amusement, but fortunately he didn’t say I told you so. Otherwise she would have to kill him.
“Okay, so there’re some interesting stories. No big deal. Just don’t think you’ve converted me.”
“I would never think I’ve made an impact on you.”
“Good. What’s for supper? I’m starving.”
He peeled back the foil keeping their plates warm. “Mmm. Pot roast. Mashed potatoes and gravy. Baby carrots. A green salad. Eleanor’s outdone herself. And shorthanded in the kitchen, too.”
“I feel bad leaving her with all that work while I’m lounging around up here doing nothing. Ruth’s hardly any help in the kitchen.”
“Can’t be avoided. You’ve gotta pick your battles, and I’d say this is a pretty decent alternative to a second wife.” He brightened. “Hey, if Ruth’s no help in the kitchen, it’s a good thing I have a wife who can cook.”
Angel swung a pillow at him, missing his head by inches, just as she’d intended.
They ate supper in companionable silence. Angel stacked the dishes and utensils on the tray and placed it outside the door.
Angel paced the room, wondering if she could jog in place and not appear odd. Probably not. Besides, she was feeling a bit exposed in Matthew’s basketball shorts, even though they reached her calves.
Sighing, she didn’t feel like reading anymore. And she wasn’t tired, so another nap was out of the question. “You’re sure they confiscated the pack of cards?”
“Positive. I’d forgotten they were forbidden. Might encourage gambling.”
“I could go for a game of Solitaire right now. Or poker.”
“Gambling.”
“I see their point. Are you any good at charades?”
“Nope. And I have no intention of trying.” He sat down on the bed and pulled out a pad of paper. His movements were sure as he used the pen to bisect the paper into columns.
“What’re you doing?”
“Graphing some ideas I have for a long-term business plan. I’m about due for an update. But without my laptop, I’m useless.”
“You’re sure this assistant of yours has everything under control?”
“Yes, Marlene’s as capable as they come. I streamlined my holdings before I left, so she could handle it.”
“I bet it was hard letting go and allowing someone else to have complete control over your business, your livelihood.”
“I hedged my bets as best I could. And I have confidence in Marlene. But, yes, it was extremely difficult.”
“Then why’d you do it?”
“I have a duty to find Rebecca and make sure she’s all right. And let her know our mother is gravely ill.”
Angel got the impression he wasn’t telling her the whole reason. “Did anyone pressure you?”
“Besides my mother and my conscience? One federal agent implied they’d be looking closely at my mother’s finances if I didn’t cooperate. She’s been offered immunity from any welfare fraud Jonathon may have committed.”
“Your mom’s not sitting on a pile of money. Or at least that’s what I, um, understand.”
“I know you were provided with a profile on me and my family. I’m not offended. I would have done the same thing. As a matter of fact, I did the same thing.”
“You investigated me?” The thought didn’t sit well. Not only was she unaccustomed to being on the receiving end of a background investigation, it made her nervous to know someone had been nosing through her personal information.
“Yes, standard business practice. It’s only prudent.”
“D
id you, um, uncover anything about my marriage to Kent?”
He shook his head. “No. Didn’t go that deep, though I did wonder why Fort Worth College had no record of you under the name Angel or Angelina Harrison.”
Angel breathed a sigh of relief. “I just don’t want people to know about that time unless I choose to tell them. And when I started with DPS, I didn’t want to be treated differently because of what I’d been through. My superiors knew, but nobody else.”
“I can understand that. I don’t tell many people where I came from. They’d think I was a freak. Besides, I was taught not to talk to outsiders. Silence is a hard habit to break.”
“It is hard, isn’t it? Getting to know people. Trying to decide when to tell them about your past. Wondering if they’ll accept you or blow you off.”
“Yes. I have a few close friends. I date women who don’t expect a lot of shared confidences. It’s a comfortable life, I’m not complaining.”
Yet his voice contained a trace of wistfulness. As if he’d resigned himself to being on the outside looking in. Or was she merely projecting her own feelings, as her counselor had once told her?
Shaking her head, she refused to be drawn into a discussion of a time that was better left forgotten. Or, if not forgotten, buried so deep it was difficult to uncover.
Angel picked up the Bible. “I’m gonna read some more while you do your business plan or whatever it is.”
Matthew nodded. His voice was tinged with relief when he said, “Yes, my business plan.” He didn’t seem eager to take a trip down memory lane, either.
Angel opened the book, but none of the print registered. Instead her mind traveled down the “what if” paths that drove her crazy. What if she hadn’t met Kent? Hadn’t married him? Had left him the first time he’d raised his hand to her?
She heard movement on the other side of the wall. At first she thought it was a mouse. Then she remembered Ruth.
“Sounds like our neighbor is retiring early. We’ll have to be sure we’re careful about not being overheard.”
Matthew glanced up from the paper. “Yes. Unless, of course, we want to be.”
“What do you mean?”
He grinned. “Here, I’ll show you.”
He leaned forward, removed the pillow from behind his back and rocked back into the headboard. His shoulder made a dull thud.
Angel raised her eyebrow.
Matthew pulled himself to a kneeling position, facing the wall. He leaned forward experimentally. The headboard tapped lightly against the wall. He motioned for her to join him.
Angel’s cheeks grew warm when she realized what he was doing. To their next-door neighbor it would sound as if the newlyweds were making love.
She raised up on her knees next to Matthew and rocked forward experimentally. Her rhythm was off, countering his movement and making it less effective. Concentrating, she matched her motion with his.
Angel grinned when the headboard made a satisfying thump against the wall. The playacting would show Ruth that Matthew loved his wife passionately.
Matthew increased the tempo.
“Not much staying power?” she whispered, matching his rhythm.
“I can keep this pace all night long.”
Angel thought of how ridiculous they probably looked and stifled a giggle. The banging of the headboard masked her voice when she said. “Yeah, maybe in the land of make-believe, Matt.”
“Angelina, that sounds like a challenge.” Interest flashed in his eyes. “Perhaps I’ll take you up on that challenge someday.”
“Not on your life, Romeo.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“I will.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BREAKFAST THE NEXT morning was uncomfortable at best. Freakish at worst.
Angel was grateful to keep her gaze focused on her plate. Staring at scrambled eggs was preferable to having to face Matthew’s knowing glances.
They shared a new intimacy that unnerved her. Almost as if they’d spent the whole night making love, not just simulating the sounds for inquiring minds.
And meeting Eleanor’s gaze was even more disconcerting. The twinkle in her eye told Angel she figured there would be one more pregnant woman in the settlement soon. What’s more, her warmth toward Angel and Matthew said she’d be tickled to hold their child and treat it as her own grandchild.
Angel swallowed hard, telling herself there was absolutely nothing appealing in that tableau. The whole wife/mother thing wasn’t meant for her. And the close cocoon of family she felt with Matthew and Eleanor was a stress-induced hallucination. Stockholm syndrome multiplied by latent maternal instincts.
“Did you sleep well, Sister Angel?” Ruth asked.
“Yes, quite well, thank you.”
“Good. I’m hoping for a June wedding.”
Obviously they’d convinced the girl they were serious about making a baby. June was two months away.
Matthew sputtered, coughing violently. His face turned red.
“Matthew, sweetheart, are you all right?” Angel asked.
“Um, yes, went down the wrong pipe.”
“Perhaps your tea is too hot. Would you like me to get an ice cube?” The solicitousness in her voice might have fooled another man.
Matthew’s eyes narrowed. “No, Angelina, the tea is fine.”
She turned to Ruth, her voice syrupy-sweet. “Did you sleep well last night?”
“I was a bit…restless.”
I’ll bet you were.
“I hope Matthew and I didn’t wake you.”
Ruth flushed. “No. Not at all.”
“Good. I was afraid we might have been…enthusiastic.”
Eleanor frowned. Private things were kept private, a cardinal rule at Zion’s Gate. Apparently double entendres included.
“Enthusiastic with our prayers of course,” Angel amended.
Matthew had another coughing attack. Baiting Ruth and watching Matthew’s reaction could be fun. If Eleanor didn’t take a switch to her behind. And judging by the woman’s glare, it was a distinct possibility.
“I, um, better get going. Don’t want to be late for the elders’ meeting.”
“I’ll count the minutes while you’re gone.”
“Um, yes, me, too.” Matthew rose and took his plate to the kitchen. He’d scraped his plate and was out the door before Eleanor could protest.
Eleanor chuckled. “Matthew seems a bit…distracted this morning.”
“Uh-huh.” Angel sipped her juice, trying to assume a dreamy expression.
Ruth made a strangled sound and jumped up. “I have lessons to go over before I teach the children this morning.”
Angel smiled and waved two fingers. “Ta-ta.”
“You will reap what you sow.” Eleanor’s mouth was a straight line of disapproval.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’ll be living with that woman. If you are unkind to her now, it will come back to haunt you later. You will need the support and cooperation of your sister wife.”
“To take my husband off my hands when I’m too tired to make love? I think not.”
“What about when your children are sick with the flu and you’re bone-tired. Who will pitch in to help?”
“Their father, that’s who.”
Eleanor grasped her hand. “You must forget those kind of fairy tales, Angel. They’ll only break your heart. Your sister wives can make all the difference in your peace and security.”
“What about my husband?”
Eleanor shrugged. “It may seem like Matthew is the center of your world. But as time goes on you will see him less and less. After children arrive, you will be busy with other things. Soon his visits will be no more than a pleasant diversion.”
“Or a pain in the ass.”
Eleanor grinned but quickly recovered her stern face. “Your language is most unseemly. And you may not believe me, but there will be times you will be glad your husband has many wives.”<
br />
“Wait a minute, we were talking one more wife. Now you’re expanding to many wives?”
“You need to face facts, Angel. Matthew is destined for a leadership role. Leaders have many wives, many children, securing their place in heaven.”
Angel bit back a curse. Taking a couple deep breaths, she managed to control her temper. “So I better be nice to Ruth because she’ll be more of a companion than my husband?”
Eleanor shrugged. “Possibly.”
The door opened and Sister Beatrice marched through, followed by a line of children. Quiet, serious children. They didn’t push or shove or chatter.
“Go on up, Beatrice. Ruth is waiting for you.”
The plain woman nodded, leading the children up the stairs.
When the echo of their footsteps receded, Angel picked up the thread of their conversation. “What if I don’t want my marriage to be the way you’ve described?”
“Then you must search your heart and decide whether a life devoted to the principle is what you want.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Leave and never look back. Matthew has his destiny. You can either help him achieve that through the principle or you can leave him now before either of you gets too attached.”
“I’m already attached.” Angel swallowed hard. The words resonated in the air between them.
“Then you have no choice, dear. You will stay and make the best home possible for your husband.”
Angel felt as if the walls were closing in on her. The kitchen had suddenly become stifling. She wanted nothing more than to don Matthew’s basketball shorts, knot his T-shirt at her waist and jog for several miles. But that wouldn’t be seemly.
“Let’s be quick cleaning up breakfast.” Eleanor was a bit too cheerful. “Then I’ll tell Ruth we’ll be in the garden.”
“The garden?” Angel’s spirits rose.
“Yes. I convinced Jonathon you are deserving of increased responsibilities. There’s weeding that needs to be done. And we can pick greens for a salad this evening.”
Angel hugged the older woman. “You’re a life saver.”
“So I’ve been told.” Her voice was dry, but her smile was kind.
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