When Angels Cry

by Maria Rachel Hooley

  Kaylee nodded wearily. “Last week. She said she’d be home this week. I asked if that were a threat or a promise.”

  “You did not.” Rosie grinned.

  “I wanted to.” She pointed toward the living room. “Do you want to come in?”

  Rosie shook her head. “Nah, girl. I just came to see if your white ass was still in bed. Besides, you look like you need rest, and you can’t get that with me around.” She pointed to the truck. “Maybe you’d better tell your girlfriend you need a nap.”

  “I’ll do that.” Kaylee brushed her hands up and down her arms and watched the snow silently wafting from the slate sky. It would be good to be in bed right now, she thought.

  “This weather ain’t fit for man nor beast. Get some rest, girl,” Rosie said, shuffling down the drive to her Jeep. One foot slid from beneath her, but she caught the side of Bastian’s truck and regained her balance.

  Stopping, she turned to Kaylee. “You find an art teacher yet?”

  “I’m working on it. I have a list of candidates.”

  “Time’s getting short.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Her voice trembled and she wished she could stop thinking about the future. Rosie shuffled the rest of the way to her Jeep. She’d left the engine running, and a moment later, the headlights flickered to life. Rosie waved and backed down the drive toward the street. A moment after, her tail lights were lost amid a flurry of snow.

  Kaylee stepped back into the foyer and closed the door. As she turned, she bumped into Bastian. The unexpected collision knocked her off balance, and Bastian grabbed her.

  “Care to tell me about this ‘girlfriend’ from Newark?” His eyes glinted. “What about this ‘hottie?'”

  Kaylee flushed and brushed past him. “I see there’s nothing wrong with your hearing.”

  “Nope. Now about Prince Charming….” Bastian followed, grinning.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Katie plunked onto the couch.

  Bastian sat next to her. “You know–the one your friend thought you might be in the sack with.” Bastian winked. “Sounds like a lucky guy.”

  Kaylee shot him a penetrating look. “Does he now?”

  “I love a mystery. Where does he live?” Bastian leaned forward and fluffed the cushion behind his back. He laced his fingers together behind his head and leaned back.

  “I wouldn’t know. Anyway, why are you so fascinated with my social life anyway? If it were graphed on a cardiac monitor, it would be a flat line.” Kaylee rested against the couch perpendicular to Bastian, crossed her legs at the ankles and rested her feet in his lap.

  “Really?” Bastian raised an eyebrow. “Then what was all that about?” He teased his forefinger along the bottom of Kaylee’s left foot, tracing the arch.

  Kaylee squirmed. “Stop that.”

  “I’ll stop if you tell me about Prince Charming.” Bastian grabbed her ankle and grinned.

  “There’s nothing to tell,” Kaylee shrieked. She tried to pry Bastian’s fingers loose, but they held fast.

  “Have it your way,” he said. This time he lightly stroked with two fingers.

  “Nononono.” Kaylee squealed, arching her back and kicking. She tried to push his hand away with her other foot, but she couldn’t break his grip.

  “Anyone ever tell you you’re ticklish? Now about this prince….” Bastian watched her writhe and giggle. As he stared at her face, at the first smile the he’d ever really seen, he realized how beautiful she was.

  “Okay, okay...I’ll talk. He’s just a guy that Rosie and I saw at St. Andrews. I thought he was cute, and Rosie razzes me about it,” Kaylee gasped, relieved by the momentary reprieve. She grabbed her shirt hem, suddenly aware that it had worked its way up her abdomen, and tugged it sharply downward, hiding her navel. Kaylee focused on her feet instead of Bastian, her cheeks warm.

  “Did you try talking to him? I can’t imagine him turning down someone like you.” At first, he thought she’d turned red from the way she’d struggled as he’d tickled her, but then it dawned on him that maybe talking about this guy had embarrassed her. Bastian rested his hands on Kaylee’s feet.

  “I didn’t know what to say. We were from different worlds.” The redness of Kaylee’s cheeks deepened, and she lifted a strand of her long hair and twisted it around her index finger.

  “That doesn’t seem to be stopping you now,” Bastian went on, watching Kaylee’s finger twirl her hair. “We aren’t exactly from the same side of things, but you seem fine talking to me.”

  “That’s different. You’re different.” Kaylee unwound the hair from her finger.

  “How?”

  “You actually look me in the eye. You notice there’s a world around you.” She stared off into space. “He never even looked at me.”

  “Maybe he was afraid of what he would see: judgment, maybe–or worse. People can be cruel, Kaylee, and they often hate those who are different. Still, that’s nothing compared to how we sometimes see ourselves. There was a time I wouldn’t have been able to look you in the eye.” Bastian thought back to the last few months when he’d barely scraped by, through lots of moments he hadn’t wanted to look at anyone.

  Kaylee winced. “We’re all imperfect, Bastian. The sooner everyone comes to realize it, the better off we’ll all be.”

  “Interesting work.” Bastian stepped to her painting, frowning.

  Kaylee shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to be a really good painter, but I'm not. The lines are weak, and sometimes the shading is off. It never turns out like I want it to, but then not much does, you know?”

  He bit his lip, ignoring the sarcasm. “The blending here looks great.” He pointed to the line of the sky and water. “Overall, it’s really not bad.”

  “Do you paint?” Kaylee joined him, trying to see what he was seeing.

  “You should harden the line of the sail a bit.” He leaned closer to the painting. “That might give it more contrast and sharpen the perspective.”

  “Do you paint?” she repeated, touching his shoulder. Her index finger pressed in slightly.

  “Some, though I prefer charcoals. Why?” He slowly faced Kaylee.

  Kaylee’s blue eyes met the darkness of his, widening. Her full lips parted as though she were thinking something that had suddenly deserted her, something for which there’d been no words.

  “I-I’d like you to draw me.” Her voice faltered. “My face, that is—if you wouldn’t mind.”

  Bastian shrugged. “I don’t mind. I’m just puzzled. What prompted that?”

  “I’d like to see myself through your eyes, to see what you see.” Kaylee looked at her hands, pretending to inspect the polish on her nails.

  “Suit yourself. Do you have any charcoals I can use?” Bastian focused on Kaylee’s painting, studying the details he had missed at first glance.

  “Yeah, let me get them.” She walked out of the room to a closet down the hall where she scanned the boxes on the top shelf. Finding the charcoals, she snapped the lid on the box before further searching the closet and finding a pad among the remaining things stored on the shelf. Satisfied, she carried it all back to Bastian and handed it over.

  “I stored these last year because, unlike you, I really didn’t care for them. Still, I couldn’t exactly throw them away, either.” She stepped into the middle of the room. “So where would you like me?”

  “Give me a minute.” He walked into the kitchen and looked into the dining room. A huge bay window caught his eye and he went to it, pulling the curtains aside. Light ebbed into the room, and he could just imagine how it would look backlighting her dark auburn hair.

  “I found a spot. It’s perfect,” he called.

  Kaylee ambled into the room, her hands clasped in front of her, and he gestured to the sill, tapping it with the palm of his hand.

  “Why there?” she asked.

  “The lighting.” He brushed past her, went to the living room, and retrieved his materials. When he returned, he
found Kaylee perched on the sill. He stooped next to her and gently brushed her long hair in front of her shoulders.

  Kaylee caught his hand in hers. “I’d rather it be brushed back.”

  “No,” he argued. “You’ll like it there. I promise.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Trust me.”

  Reluctantly, Kaylee nodded. Her fingers squeezed back, and she clutched his hand in hers. Bastian stared at her, smelling the floral sweetness of her perfume. Roses? Hyacinth? The scent intoxicated him. His eyebrows arched in puzzlement. Her lips parted slightly. Her chest rose and fell quickly as he stared at the line of her neck, at the hollow just above her chest, a perfect place. Her grip slackened, and she finally released him.

  “Tilt your head toward the ceiling.” Bastian pulled over a chair and set the charcoals next to him as he adjusted the pad in his lap. He pulled out a coal, poised it at the middle of the sheet, and peered at Kaylee.

  Kaylee lifted her chin and gazed at the ceiling. Strands of her long hair slipped over her breasts and curled toward her stomach.

  “Perfect. Now hold still and be patient. This could take a few minutes.” The light cast a deep mahogany glow to her hair. She regarded the sky with wide eyes as he brushed the charcoal against the paper.

  “That’s okay,” Kaylee replied, feeling his gaze upon her. “I don’t have any hot dates.”

  “Would you like to,” Bastian laughed. He finished sketching the delicate rim of her face, the subtle trace of her chin.

  “Depends on who’s asking.” Kaylee smiled and risked a downward glance.

  “Eyes on the ceiling, please.” He sketched her eyes, half-lidded at the moment, almond-shaped, the same ones that’d kept him from sleeping last night. “What if I were?”

  “I guess it would depend on why.” Kaylee’s throat felt as though it would close, and although she tried to swallow, she found she couldn’t. Of course, she’d never been good at swallowing her own words.

  Bastian peered up from the paper. “Isn’t that obvious?”

  “Not to me.” Her voice was soft and unsure, absent of any former confidence.

  Bastian resumed his work. “Maybe because I enjoy being with you. Is that so crazy?”

  “I want to be sure, you know.” Kaylee blinked and shivered.

  “Sure of what?” He waited a moment, the charcoal stilled on the page, but there was only silence, one he ultimately broke. “That I don’t pity you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see his expression. There were still things she’d rather not know.

  “I don’t pity you,” he said finally, his voice suddenly raw. “I pity me because there’s never going to be a day I can keep you forever. The more I give of myself, the more I stand to lose in the end.” He laughed humorlessly. “ But damned if I can keep from giving you more.”

  He kept his eyes on the sketchpad, on the work in his hands. He added eyebrows, two perfect arcs, then focused on her nose, her lips, and her hair. Line by line, curve by curve, Kaylee’s features slowly appeared on the page, as lifelike as though she were there, present beneath his hands. But there she did not look at him but rather upward, beyond them both.

  “How’s it coming?” Kaylee asked, her voice hushed. She sat motionless, blinking only occasionally.

  “You can relax. I’m done.” Bastian peered at the drawing, knowing he hadn’t really needed Kaylee to model for him. He had memorized her features the first moment she’d lain in the snow, looking up at him. He set the charcoal back in the box and stood, placing the pad it in her hands.

  “You wanted my perspective. I hope you’re not disappointed.” As she examined her portrait, her mouth fell open. Bastian set his hand on Kaylee’s shoulder and gingerly squeezed.

  “No, it’s not that.” Kaylee said slowly, still staring at the sketch in her hands. Her fingers tightened around the edges.

  “Then what? You look unsure.” He brushed the hair over her shoulders. “I know you don’t like it in your face.”

  “This is beautiful,” she finally said. “Amazing.” The clock down the hall chimed softly, but to Kaylee it seemed that the sound was never the more distant with respect to the throb of her heartbeat.

  “I only drew what I saw, Kaylee. You’re beautiful but don’t realize it.” Bastian picked it up the charcoals. His voice thickened, and his hand trembled badly as he handed her the box.

  “I bet you say that to all the girls,” she finally managed. Kaylee stared at the picture, mesmerized. She noticed how badly her own fingers trembled, but she wasn’t surprised.

  “No, not really. I’ve never been a big believer in words,” Bastian said, sitting next to her. He stretched out his legs and crossed one ankle over the other. As he looked at his boots, he realized just how badly he needed a new pair.

  “Why not?” Kaylee’s breath caught. He sat close enough so their arms touched, and she felt the warmth of his skin through his shirt.

  “There isn’t anything magical about words. It’s what we do or don’t do that counts.” Bastian shrugged. “For example, I could say that you’re beautiful, but it wouldn’t mean much.” Bastian looked into the depths of her eyes.

  “Why do you say that?”

  Bastian smiled. “Okay, it wouldn’t mean half as much as if I said you were beautiful and then did this.” He leaned over and caressed her lips with his. As they yielded to him, parting slightly, he slipped his tongue into her mouth. After a moment, Bastian pulled away and re-memorized her features: lips still slightly parted, her head tilted slightly, and her eyes closed as though she were dreaming. Bastian savored the beauty of her face.

  Eyes still closed, she whispered, “Tell me I’m beautiful again.”

  “Why?” Grinning, Bastian stroked her hair. He caressed the hollow of her throat, and the soft rosy scent of her perfume filled him.

  “Being the gentleman you are, once you tell me something you’ll back it up with actions.” Kaylee’s eyelids fluttered open.

  Bastian chuckled softly. “Damn straight.” He leaned in close, touched his lips to her ear, and said, “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He nibbled her earlobe, and she whimpered. He touched her throat, traced his fingertips over the soft skin. He kissed her cheek. His lips found hers again, and found a warmth he’d never expected amid such a winter.

  Chapter Six

  Bastian slipped his arms beneath Kaylee’s slight frame and lifted her. Although his hold was sure, her body stiffened.

  “You don’t have to carry me,” she said. “I can walk, you know.”

  Bastian smiled. “Oh, is that what your legs are for? Silly me.” His body pitched forward as though he’d stumbled, but then he righted himself. Kaylee’s fingers dug into his shoulder, and he laughed. “That’s quite a grip you’ve got for someone planning on walking.”

  Kaylee cleared her throat. “I thought you were going to drop me.”

  “Would I do that?” Bastian carried her out of the living room.

  “You might,” Kaylee nodded and squirmed a little.

  “Yeah, well, quit squirming, or I won’t have a choice. Is your room up there?” Bastian tightened his grip as he looked up the stairs.

  “Yes. Now put me down.” Kaylee followed his gaze. She tried to free her legs, but he cinched his fingers more tightly.

  “I will…eventually. Which room is yours?” Bastian ascended the first step. He kept at it, step by step until he’d reached the landing, where the upstairs hallway began and followed the corridor to the left.

  “The third on the left.”

  Bastian stepped to the doorway and crossed the threshold. A thin mosquito net cascaded down around all sides of the bed except one, where it had been clipped back. Bastian set Kaylee on the bed and lay beside her, propping his body sideways on one elbow.

  “See—I told you I’d put you down. I always keep my word.” As he stared into her eyes, he stroked the bangs from her face and brushed his lips across hers. He touche
d his mouth to her cheek, her ear, her neck before returning to her lips.

  Kaylee tried to decipher the panic in her heart as it raced. Her fingers wound themselves in the soft white comforter pressed against her body.

  “What would you like for lunch? I’ll make it. You just lie here and relax, and I’ll take care of everything.” Bastian gentle kissed her on the cheek, looked at his watch, and rose, stepping away from the bed.

  “I knew it,” she said, biting her words. The color drained from Kaylee’s face. Although she’d rested her hand on the blanket, now she squeezed her hand into a fist before finally releasing it.

  “What?” Bastian blinked.

  “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. I can make lunch just fine.” She got up.

  “You must’ve heard about that case of food poisoning last week. Well, I had nothing to do with it,” he joked. “Despite being male, I’m not that bad of a cook, you know.” Frowning, he stared in puzzlement as Kaylee brushed past, her back rigid.

  “Despite the fact that I’m female, neither am I.” Kaylee folded her arms across her chest and walked to the doorway.

  “It was a joke, Kaylee. I was joking.” Bastian grabbed her arm. He expected her to acknowledge him, but she didn’t.

  “I wasn’t. I can make my own lunch. Now let go,” Kaylee seethed, trying, to no avail, to free her arm. She looked at his fingers.

  “Not until we talk about this.” Frowning, Bastian maintained his grip.

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” Kaylee tried to pry his fingers free with her other hand. She thought of him lying next to her, remembering the feel of his lips on her skin, yet the last thing she wanted was someone to take care of her. A chill swept down her back, and she shivered.

  “The hell there’s not. You’re upset.” Bastian pulled her to him, despite her reluctance. He turned her to face him and placed his fingers under her chin, trying to force eye contact with her, but she refused to meet his gaze.

  “Damned if you’re going to let me in, right? I don’t even know what I did wrong. You’re gracious enough to let me stay here, but you won’t let me show my gratitude by fixing lunch.” He moved his hand, and she quickly lowered her chin, focusing on the carpet, the bed—anything but him.