“I’m trying to help him find out the truth,” she managed to say. “He’s innocent.”
“Of course he is,” Donald said. “There isn’t a guilty man in prison.”
Emily did seem to have a bit of a spine because she glared up at him. “If that’s the way you’re going to listen, I’m not going to tell you anything.”
With an elaborate gesture worthy of the worst ham actor, Donald took a seat across from her. “Forgive me for my anger,” he said, “but I have been standing outside a hospital for two days trying to find out if the mayor of the city was alive or not. But then, you wouldn’t know about that, would you? No, of course not. You and….” He sneered toward the closed bedroom door. “The two of you have been too busy socializing with all of Greenbriar to hear about the mayor. So now, will you tell me why this man is living in your apartment? Why do you refer to it as ‘home’ as though it were his home?”
Emily wanted to ask if the mayor was all right, but she couldn’t as that would confirm Donald’s worst thoughts. And with a glance about her apartment, it was easy to see why Donald guessed that Michael had been living there for days. His freshly ironed shirts were hanging on the knob to the linen closet; a pair of his shoes were in front of the couch; on the table near the door were three worn Sports Illustrateds, plus the contents from his pockets.
“We are researching to find out who the real culprit is,” she said weakly, looking down at her hands. When Donald didn’t say anything, she looked up at him. His face was so full of rage that it made shivers run down her spine. “Like I help you find out things,” she said. “You’ve always told me that I’m good at research so I…I’m helping him find out who the real criminal is.”
“Are you in love with him?” Donald asked coldly.
“No, of course not,” she said quickly. “He’s just a…a, well, a friend.”
“You don’t usually allow friends to live with you.”
Suddenly, Emily had the oddest thought: Why doesn’t he leave? Wouldn’t most men who found another man living with their fiancée throw a fit and leave? “And you believe him?” Donald asked into the silence. “You believe whatever lie he’s concocted and in return you feed him, give him a place to live and even introduce him around town? Is that right?”
“It’s not what it seems,” she said softly. “He….” She raised her head. “He’s lost his memory and doesn’t know anything. Actually, he’s aphasic.”
“He’s what?”
“Aphasic. He’s lost certain parts of his memory, like what foods he likes and how to buy clothes and how to get a job and an apartment.”
Donald’s look was making her slow down.
“He knows nothing,” she said, giving Donald what she hoped was a conciliatory smile. “Really, the man can’t figure out buttons without help.”
Donald didn’t bother answering her but stood, picked up his jacket from across a chair, then looked down at her. “Emily, one thing a journalist learns is to sniff out lies, and right now, all you’re telling me is one lie after another. I don’t know what’s going on here. For all I know, he may be blackmailing you, or threatening you with bodily harm, but if you don’t let me help you, I can’t.”
When he started putting on his jacket, Emily jumped up from the chair. “Donald, I’m sorry, really I am. I’m trying to explain something that I don’t understand myself. If you’ll just bear with me I—”
“You’ll what?” he said, glaring down at her. “Make up your mind between us? Decide whether you want me, someone you’ve known for years, or whether you want him, a known criminal you’ve known for a week? Is that what I’m supposed to bear with?”
“I…I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t seem to understand anything right now. My life is so confused.”
“Well, let me make it easy for you. It’s either him or me,” he said softly, then walked out the door.
Chapter 13
TWO MINUTES AFTER DONALD LEFT, MICHAEL WALKED out of the bedroom. He had on a pair of trousers and a shirt that was hanging out and unbuttoned. From the look of him, he now understood what demon rum meant.
“Not a word,” Emily said in warning, not looking at him. “I don’t want to hear a word from you. I just want you to pack your bags and get out. Now.”
Michael sat down on a chair across from her. “I don’t have any bags. Unless you mean the kind we get groceries in.”
She gave him a quick, malevolent look, meaning to show him that she hated him. But there were circles under his eyes and his face seemed to be longer than it usually was. “Good,” she said. “I’m glad you feel rotten. You deserve it. You are ruining my life.”
Michael ran his hands over his face. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have a life,” he said softly.
“And what is that supposed to mean? I had a perfectly good life until you arrived and I will once again as soon as you leave.”
“You can lie to anyone except me. You were as lonely as anyone on this planet until I showed up. Is there anything I can do for this man’s head? And this stomach hurts too.”
With as much haughtiness as she could muster, she stood. “I want you out of here within the hour.” Then, still trying to keep control of herself, she went out onto the deck and sat down on a chair and waited, her hands across her chest.
She didn’t know how long she sat there but she heard the shower running, then there was a quiet time when she knew that Michael was shaving. She was not, under any circumstances, going to think about what he had said about her loneliness or how her life was going to be after he moved out.
After a while, she heard him in the kitchen, then moments later, he came onto the deck, took the chair next to her and put something on the little table that stood between them. She wasn’t going to look at him or whatever he had put down.
“I brought you tea,” he said softly. “With milk the way you like it and some of those buttery things we got yesterday. What do you call them?”
“Croissants,” she said, her mouth rigid. “Are you packed?”
“I’m not leaving.”
At that she turned to glare at him. He was clean now and his jaws looked almost raw from his shave, but his eyes held not only pain from the hangover but some sadness that she did not want to acknowledge.
“If you don’t leave, I’m going to turn you over to the police.”
“No you aren’t,” he said smoothly as he picked up his mug and began to sip his tea. “Emily, I know you don’t want to admit to yourself who or what I am, but that doesn’t change me. I’m an angel. No…I’m your angel and I know what you want better than you do. Right now you’re confused. You seem to want both of us, me and that man, and you can’t make up your mind which of us you want more.”
At his words of truth, some of the fight went out of her. “If you aren’t an angel, you’re a criminal. Either way, you aren’t the man I…I need.”
“I know that,” he said softly, then looked at her with eyes so full of pain that she looked away. “I know that more than you do. Once I find out what evil is around you, I’ll be taken away. For all I know, you won’t even remember me.” Pausing, he took a sip of his tea. “But now I’ve found the evil.”
“So tell me, I’m dying to hear. Was it gambling, whiskey or men punching each other in the face?”
“It’s Donald.”
At that Emily’s bad mood broke and she started to laugh. “This is your best one yet. At least Donald has a reason to be angry since I’m engaged to him, but you and your jealousy are the stupidest—”
“He brought it with him.”
“Oh right,” she said, glaring at him. “Have it in his back pocket, did he? Or maybe he carries evil in his briefcase.”
“I didn’t say your beloved Donald is evil, I said that it came with him. The evil has something to do with him. It’s through him that the bomb was put under your car.”
“Might I remind you that the bomb had to do with you.”
“No i
t didn’t. I told you that at the time. There was some way that the men who put the bomb under your car knew where you were and they thought it was a good time to get rid of you. They knew the FBI came to see you so they thought that would take the fire off of them.”
“Heat. Take the heat off,” she said, frowning. “You’re not making sense. It’s not as though I’m royalty and my whereabouts are reported in the Court Circular. I’m not even on TV like Donald is so how—” Emily looked up. “The broadcast Donald did. I almost forgot it in all this turmoil. Donald gave me an Angel.”
“He did what?!” Michael’s mouth was a tight line and the force of his question obviously made pain shoot through his head.
“Could you stop being jealous for even ten seconds? The TV station where Donald works awarded me an Angel. It’s a statue they give out every Saturday to someone in the state who’s done some public service. I was on the TV just before the story about you, and Donald told where the convention was where I received the award. I was staying a few miles away but it would have been easy to find out where I was.”
“Wait a minute,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’re trying to distract me. This isn’t about any car bomb, this is about you, me and the man I love. I’ve done something horrible to him. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I returned from work and found that he had another woman living with him. But that’s what I’ve done to Donald.”
“If we don’t find out who’s trying to kill you, you won’t have any future with any man.”
“I think it’s time we turn this over to the police,” she said, but she refused to look at him. What did the FBI do to a man on their most-wanted list? But that wasn’t her problem. If he was what he said he was, that wouldn’t be a problem to him either.
“You’re right,” he said and she knew he was answering her thought. “I’ll be safe. But won’t they do something to you if they know you lied to them when you told them you didn’t know where I was?”
“Great,” she said, throwing her hands into the air. “I’m a fugitive as much as you are. Or, I guess, in this case, even more than you are since you can sprout wings and fly away.” She was trying to be as nasty as she could.
But Michael didn’t pay any attention to her venom. “Emily, I think your only hope is to find out why I’m here, fix it, then I’m sure I’ll be recalled. And once I’m recalled I’ll be out of your life for all eternity.”
“Recalled,” she said softly.
“Sure. As you well know, this body is already dead.”
In spite of herself, she looked at him. Now that she was calming down, she didn’t like to think of never seeing him again.
“You like this body, don’t you?” he asked and his voice was husky.
Emily snapped out of her reverie. “No, I do not. I like Donald’s body. Understand that? Donald’s body. In fact I like everything about him.”
Michael looked away from her, across the deck to the trees of the woods and there was a tiny smile on his lips that infuriated her. “You’d miss me dreadfully if I left.” Before she could say another word, he looked at her and grinned. “Emily, love, when you tell me to get out and the words come from your heart, I’ll be out of here in a minute, but now you don’t want me to go. In fact, you rather like having made ol’-what’s-his-name jealous.”
“I hate you.”
“Yes, I can feel your hatred,” he said, chuckling.
Emily turned to him. “Look, this is serious.”
“No, it’s not. In fact that man wants you more now than he ever has before. He’s always thought of you as Emily-who-waits so it’s not bad to rake him up.”
“Shake him up,” she said, then took her mug of tea and sipped it. It had grown cold but she didn’t notice. What Michael was telling her was like something out of a self-help book. How to Entice Your Man, or something like that. Emily had never been one for trying to make a man jealous. But it was a tactic that Irene used often. But then, when a woman looked like Irene she could afford to risk losing a man while she toyed with his temper and his love. As for Emily—
“I don’t like what you’re thinking,” Michael said with anger in his voice. “Look, can we just stick to business? Can’t you, for once, be firm with that boyfriend of yours and tell him this is what you’re going to do? Tell him that you are going to help me find some information and if he doesn’t like it he can…can….” He gave her a look of puzzlement. “What is it the men say? Something about leaping into a lake?”
“If he doesn’t like it he can take a flying leap. Or he can jump into a lake.”
“Perfect. Can we have something to eat now? Something soft, something I don’t have to chew.”
In spite of herself, she smiled. “I really do think you’re from the devil.”
“Pleeease don’t let Adrian hear you say that. This head couldn’t stand his yelling at me.”
She gave him a lopsided grin. “Tell me, will you get bawled out if you cause permanent damage between Donald and me?”
For a moment Michael looked as though he was going to deny that, but then he grinned. “Emily, love, you are too clever by half. I don’t know many of the rules of this mortal life but I know I’m not to interfere. I know that from experience.”
“Oh? And how did you learn that? Did someone find out you were sending one of your poor mortals to prison before he even did anything bad?”
When Michael gave her a ducked-head, sheepish look, she laughed. “Come on and I’ll bake you some Jell-O.”
“That sounds good,” he said and had no idea why she was laughing at him.
Chapter 14
EMILY JAMMED ANOTHER PILE OF PAPERS INTO THE trash and when half of them slid across the floor because the bin was full, she angrily grabbed the lot and managed to get two paper cuts in the same finger.
“Damn, damn and double-damn!” she muttered, sucking on her finger as she sat down heavily on her office chair. There were three black plastic bags full of old brochures, yellowed papers and out-of-date pamphlets that Emily had been meaning to throw out for years, but she’d never found the time or the energy.
But as she glanced out the window toward the setting sun, she gave a grimace and looked about for something else to clean or discard or organize. She’d been in the library all day, using one of her precious days off to do work she hated. But today she needed something to take her mind off what was going on in her real life. A life that included two men who seemed determined to drive her mad.
After Donald had left her apartment that morning, she’d tried to call him but he hadn’t answered his phone. Knowing how important calls were to him, his not answering showed how truly upset he was. She went to his apartment but her knock was met with silence. And when she saw that his car was gone, she knew he’d returned to the city.
Michael was no help. He was obnoxiously pleased that Donald was gone and Emily was free to spend her day with him.
But, suddenly, Emily didn’t want to spend her Sunday with either man. Instead she wanted time alone—and something that would keep her busy while she tried to decide what to do.
So now, after hours of work cleaning out old files and discarding papers, she was exhausted, and she wasn’t any closer to reaching a decision now than she ever had been.
Donald was the love of her life, of course, she thought. It was just that Donald was always so busy. And always away. There were times when she was so lonely she talked to the characters on TV. She dreamed of a normal life of breakfast together and being able to plan a weekend without worry that the man in her life would be called away to an emergency.
But she guessed many women lived as she did; many women had doctors and firemen for husbands, men who were often gone.
But, oh, it had been nice being with Michael! He was so attentive, so…. So not hers, she reminded herself. What did she really know of him? On one hand he was a wanted criminal, on the other he was the kindest, gentlest man she’d ever met. He was—
“So w
hat have you done with my husband?”
Blinking, Emily looked up to see a tall, dark-haired woman glaring at her. She was a beautiful woman, with that kind of perfect makeup you saw only on foreign soap operas, and she wore a red suit that Emily thought must have been sewn onto her generous curves.
“Are you deaf?” the woman said. It was then that Emily saw the gun the woman was holding.
“I—” Emily began but had no idea what to say. Small-town librarians weren’t usually confronted by guns pointed at their heads.
“Mike!” the woman spat at Emily, stepping closer and extending her arm so the gun was nearer to her face. “Where is Mike?” she half shouted as though she really believed Emily were deaf.
“At home,” Emily said softly, the words catching in her throat.
“Your home?” The woman looked Emily up and down, a sneer curving her perfectly lined lips.
Incongruously, Emily thought that if all the lipstick she’d ever worn in her life were combined, it wouldn’t equal what was now on this woman’s lips.
“You make a change from his usual bimbos,” the woman said. “But then Mike likes to experiment.” For a moment the woman took her eyes off Emily to look around the room. “You never know a man, do you? Mike’s always liked the wild side of life, gambling, killing, lots of blood and money. You know the sort.”
Emily gave a weak smile. “We don’t get too many people like that in Greenbriar.”
For a moment the woman hesitated, then she smiled. “You’re not like the others, are you?” With a sigh the woman sat down on the only other chair in Emily’s office and began to rub her left ankle. Her rather large feet were encased in red sandals with heels so high Emily had only seen their duplicate in a book with the title Fetishes.
“So you wanna tell me about you and Mike?”
For all that the woman seemed to be relaxing, she never let go of her grip on the gun, and when Emily nervously knocked a pile of papers to the floor, the woman instantly pointed the gun again.
An Angel for Emily Page 14
