Angels Everywhere

by Debbie Macomber

  Monica ignored the comment.

  “A little blush and eye liner aren’t tools of the devil, you know.”

  She pursed her lips to restrain herself from chastising him the way he deserved.

  “My oh my, look at that sour puss. I was right the first time.”

  “About what?” she demanded before she could stop herself.

  “What you really need is to be kissed, and sweetheart, I’m the man to do it.”

  Four

  Chet never intended to kiss Monica. He’d taken delight in teasing her and she was easy game. Her face flushed with color, brightening her cheeks, and her eyes snapped with outrage, challenging him. Chet was ready to laugh and walk away when a Metro bus came rushing down the street, the thick tires spraying the sidewalk with a shower of icy, muddy water.

  Monica, standing as close to the curb as she was, would receive the brunt of the spray. Thinking quickly, Chet caught her by the shoulders and whirled her around. The bus passed and the muddy water sprayed him against the back of his legs. He grimaced as the icy liquid soaked through his trousers at his calves.

  “What are you doing?” Monica demanded.

  Her back was against the brick building and she was breathing hard. Her breasts rose up and down and her hands clenched at the lapels of his trench coat as though to push him away. When she moistened her lips as if she fully expected him to follow through with his threat, it was his undoing. He felt as if a fist had been plowed into his gut. He didn’t want to kiss her any longer, he needed to.

  “No, please,” she blurted out, sounding as if she were near panic.

  “Relax,” he whispered coaxingly. “This isn’t going to hurt in the least.”

  She jerked her head to one side but he caught her by the chin. By all that was right he should have released her then, but the temptation was too strong, too sweet and piercing to ignore.

  Slowly he lowered his mouth to hers with the confidence of years of experience. His lips cut off her gasp of protest, and the strong pressure of his mouth opened hers to him. She tasted good, damn good, a hell of a lot better than he expected. When his tongue entered her mouth, her nails dug into his coat, and then she amazed him and quite possibly herself with a soft, womanly sigh of pleasure. Under his tutelage her mouth opened further, and unwilling to let this opportunity slip past him, Chet slanted his head and kissed her with months of pent-up passion.

  He didn’t mean to be so demanding, but he couldn’t stop himself.

  With effort, Chet forced himself to break off the intensity of the kiss and wean himself away from her with a series of short, nibbling ones. With a reluctance he didn’t dare question, he lifted his mouth from hers. He would have enjoyed continuing this experiment and given the opportunity, a hell of a lot more.

  Monica’s chest was heaving and her eyes were closed. Her head was slightly lowered but not enough to disguise the soft, feminine look about her. He noticed that half the pins were missing from her hair so that it fell haphazardly over one shoulder. Hell, he didn’t even remember doing anything more than plowing his hands into the thick fullness and positioning her head so he could kiss her properly.

  Her eyes slowly opened and she looked slightly dazed and definitely pale. She gazed at him steadily for just a moment and then quickly lowered her eyes. Her slender throat moved up and down as she swallowed and it seemed that she was getting ready to speak.

  “I . . . wish you hadn’t done that.”

  “No, you don’t,” he returned, sounding far more cocky than he intended. Insolence was part and parcel of his job. He didn’t like it in himself, but he didn’t know how to stop.

  “Please, will you leave me alone now?”

  “Is that what you really want?”

  She nodded, but refused to meet his eyes.

  He stepped away from her and she immediately went about tucking her hair back into place, her hands trembling so badly that Chet had to resist offering to help.

  “It was just a kiss,” he said in a weak effort to comfort her, although he was beginning to feel he was the one who needed reassurance. This woman was completely unaware of what a powerful punch she packed. She’d felt good in his arms, damn good, as if that was where she was supposed to be. The thought didn’t sit well with Chet. Nor was he keen on admitting how difficult it was to walk away from her.

  “I . . . think it would be best if you left,” she said, struggling valiantly to compose herself. She refused to look up at him.

  Chet’s mind was sluggish and his pulse still hadn’t returned to normal. He nodded, unable to think of anything more to say. As he moved away from her, he found the small, silver bell she’d dropped on the sidewalk. Stooping, he retrieved it for her.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You’re sure you’re all right?”

  She nodded and Chet stepped away from her, walking backward. He bumped into a lamp post, his shoulder hitting hard enough against the steel column to jar him. Sucking in a deep breath, he rubbed his hand over the tender spot, turned, and walked away.

  He didn’t want to think about what had just happened. He’d kissed a woman who, for all intents and purposes, was living the life of a nun. It shouldn’t have been this good. One taste should have been enough to cure him of ever thinking about her again. He could tell right now that it wasn’t going to happen that way.

  By the time Chet returned to his office, he discovered he was shaking like a leaf. He’d faced danger a dozen times, hell, more than that, but no encounter with life or death had left him so jittery that he needed to sit down. It took a morally uptight missionary intent on saving the world to reduce him to this.

  “Oh, Leah, look,” Pam Hewitt said, holding up a thick cable-knit sweater the color of winter wheat. “Doug would love this.” She checked the price tag and then slowly shook her head. “Unfortunately I can’t afford a hundred bucks for a sweater.”

  “I thought we were shopping for a party dress for you,” Leah reminded her friend. They’d known each other since university days and kept in close contact although they weren’t able to get together often. Pam had temporarily traded in her nurse’s uniform to be a full-time housewife and mother to her three youngsters. Leah loved each one, but Scotty, the just-turned three-year-old, held a special place in her heart. The baby Andrew and she were to have adopted had been born around the same time. Somehow Leah had transferred to Scotty all the love she had for the child that was to have been hers. She gave Pam’s three children gifts every Christmas and invented excuses for outings with them, but it was Scotty who ruled her heart.

  “I hate Christmas parties,” Pam muttered, folding the sweater and setting it back on the table. She ran her hand over the top and sighed expressively. “I was thinking I’d cut down the fancy maternity dress I wore a couple of years ago and—”

  “Absolutely not,” Leah insisted. “We’re going to find you a dress that will make you feel like a queen for Doug’s Christmas party.”

  “That will take some doing,” Pam muttered. “Two years at home with the kids and I’m afraid I’ve lost it.”

  “Lost what?”

  “I don’t know how to explain it,” Pam admitted slowly. “I think a part of the brain starts to deteriorate after so many years of dealing with diapers, bottles, and potty training. It’s like you’re on the children’s level for so much of the day that you lose the ability to communicate with other adults.”

  “All this tells me is that you need to get away more often.”

  “That’s probably true,” Pam agreed, “but you wouldn’t believe the trouble it is to find a baby-sitter, especially on weekdays.”

  “What about taking some time for yourself while the kids go down for their naps?”

  Pam laughed softly as they headed toward the escalator. “Nap time is like an oasis in the middle of the day. I treasure every moment of that hour, but lately even that time’s been robbed from me. I’m sewing Scotty and Jason Batman pajamas and that’s the only
free time I have to do it.”

  “Batman pajamas?”

  “They’re crazy about him and Spiderman.”

  “Why don’t you sew in the evenings?” Leah suggested. It made perfect sense to her since the three were generally in bed by eight.

  Pam laughed and shook her head. “Because, my dear friend, I’m too pooped. Honestly, I head for bed no more than an hour after the kids. I never dreamed I’d be in bed before nine. Remember me, the original night owl? Trust me, kids will do that to you.”

  A pang of envy struck Leah at the thought of her life being dominated by the demands of a houseful of children. Then again, the grass always appeared greener on the other side of the fence. More than once, Pam had said how much she envied Leah her freedom.

  Freedom. True, she often had time on her hands, but for what?

  “I’m on a budget, you know,” Pam complained when they reached Nordstrom’s second floor.

  “Would you stop?” Leah demanded, laughing. “We haven’t even gotten to the women’s section yet and already you’re convinced you aren’t going to find anything.”

  “My old maternity dress isn’t all that bad.”

  “Pam!” Leah braced her hands against her hips and glared at her friend. “Now I understand why Doug insisted I go shopping with you. He knew darn good and well that you’d end up buying something for everyone else and nothing for yourself.”

  “Did you see that darling pinafore,” Pam said, pointing toward the children’s section. “Diane would look like an angel dressed in that.”

  Leah looped her arm through Pam’s and steered her in the opposite direction. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do.”

  “What? Hog-tie me and force me to try on several dresses?”

  “Close. I’m taking you directly to the dressing room and bringing the party dresses in to you.”

  Pam’s shoulders sagged with defeat as they entered the dressing room area. “All right, just try to find something reasonably priced, will you?” Leah opened the white louvered door and gently pushed her friend inside.

  Pam stuck out her hand and waved her index finger. “Check on the sale rack first. I’ll feel better about spending so much money on myself if the dress is discounted.”

  “Never you mind,” Leah argued. “I’m not even going to let you look at the price tag.”

  “But, Leah—”

  “Don’t even try to argue with me. I’d have thought you’d know better by now.” Smiling to herself, Leah left the dressing room.

  “My hips aren’t nearly as slender as they used to be either,” Pam called after her. “You’d better start with a size twelve instead of a ten . . . better make that a fourteen.”

  Leah stopped long enough to roll her eyes, then headed for a rack of newly arrived fashions. It took less than five minutes to find a wide selection that would suit her friend.

  “Mercy, where are you?” Goodness called, frantically circling Nordstrom’s like the second hand of a clock gone berserk.

  Mercy turned around to find Goodness, her wings all aflutter, breezing six feet off the ground, close to a state of panic.

  “I need to talk to you right away,” Goodness said breathlessly.

  “Over here,” Mercy called, wondering what could possibly have gone wrong so quickly. “I’m on the light fixture.”

  Goodness soared to her side, rustling the dress display and toppling a mannequin. Apparently feeling guilty, she scooped up the lifeless form and set it back into place, to the horror of a sales clerk, who gasped and placed her hand over her heart to watch a lifeless form right itself.

  “Goodness,” Mercy shouted. “Would you stop before you get us both into trouble?”

  “I need help,” Goodness blurted out for the second time, joining Mercy, who was dangling from the light fixture.

  “So soon? You just received the assignment. What could have possibly gone wrong?”

  Goodness, who was easily flustered, looked helpless and confused. She cast a pleading look at Mercy. “I knew I was in way over my head when Gabriel first gave me this assignment, but I wanted to help Monica Fischer. You know I’m a sucker for romance, and finding her a husband didn’t sound as if it would be the least bit difficult.” She stopped long enough to draw in another deep breath. “Now the poor girl’s more confused than ever and I’m afraid it’s all my fault.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing . . . well, obviously it’s something, but . . . oh, dear, I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

  “I take it this has something to do with finding Monica a husband?”

  Goodness nodded energetically. “I found the most suitable young man who has a wonderful heart for God. He directs the choir and he’s half in love with her already.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Monica isn’t the least bit excited about him. She has this dangerous attraction for that . . . that private eye. They’re completely incompatible. Why, a union between the two of them will never do, and I fear I’m the one responsible for them meeting.”

  Mercy frowned. “Goodness, when will you ever learn?”

  “Me!” Flustered, she wrung her hands and eyed her fellow angel. “You don’t think I know that was you riding up and down the escalator just now?”

  “You couldn’t have known that was me.”

  “Let’s just say I made an educated guess,” Goodness said confidently. “A woman’s being treated with smelling salts and two kids are telling everyone what they saw, and it sounds to me as if they were describing you. Who else do you know with long, blond hair, deep blue eyes, and magnificent wings? You know better than most that children’s spiritual eyes have yet to close. You were taking a terrible chance.”

  “Ah . . .”

  “Just as I thought. Mercy, what are you going to do if Gabriel hears about this? You know he will eventually. Why, he could pull you off of this assignment in nothing flat and with good reason.”

  “But he won’t,” Mercy said with utter confidence.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because he’d never have assigned me to this prayer request if he had anyone else to send. We both know that.”

  “But he might never give you another assignment if you continue to do crazy stunts like that.”

  “Sure he will. Gabriel has a soft spot in his heart for the three of us. I venture to say we’re his favorites, although he’d never let us know that.”

  Goodness stared at her with round, disbelieving eyes.

  “He’ll forgive me just about anything,” Mercy continued, undaunted, “because I’m going to find a way to teach Leah what she must learn and as soon as she does, she’ll become pregnant.”

  “Mercy, have you been sniffing the eggnog again?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “But you’ve got the most difficult assignment by far. How can you be so confident Leah’s ever going to learn what she must when so many others have failed?”

  “Simple,” Mercy said with a cocky tilt to her head, “I’m going to teach her. Now stop worrying about me. Let’s concentrate on what’s happening with you and Monica Fischer.”

  Goodness adjusted her wings around the troublesome light fixture. “I hate to admit it, but I’m worried. She really likes this Chet fellow.”

  “Chet who?”

  “Chet Costello. He’s a private investigator and from what I’ve managed to learn of him . . . let me just say this, Gabriel would need to assign a legion of angels to work with him.”

  “You’re sure Monica’s infatuated with him?”

  Goodness nodded. “I read her journal this morning and it was full of all the things she felt while he kissed her. She said she never knew that kissing could be this good or that a woman felt those kinds of things when a man touched her.”

  “Oh, my.” Mercy waved her hand in front of her heated face.

  “And that’s not the half of it.”

  “You mean there’s more
?”

  “She wrote that she felt herself responding to him even when she promised herself she wouldn’t and how disappointed she was when he stopped.”

  “Do you think Michael knows about Chet?”

  “No one knows, not even her father. She raced home afterwards and went directly to her room, where she wrote everything down. When her father came to ask if she wanted dinner, Monica claimed she wasn’t hungry.”

  “Kissing is better than food?” This was a whole new thought to Mercy.

  “Apparently so.”

  Goodness wrung her hands once more, then blurted out, “Say something. Anything. I need help.”

  Mercy slowly shook her head back and forth. “You’ve got trouble.”

  “I know that, otherwise I wouldn’t be here. What do you suggest?”

  Mercy thought long and hard. “We both need to talk to Shirley. She’s much better at deciphering these matters than we are.”

  “Let’s meet at Reverend Fischer’s church at midnight in the choir loft,” Goodness suggested as she elegantly slid off the dangling fixture. “I’ll see you then.”

  Mercy nodded.

  Goodness fully intended to leave the shopping mall right then and return to Monica, who was sitting in the church office typing up the bulletin for the Sunday morning worship service. But when she shot past a video store, she skidded to a stop. Mercy seemed confident that Gabriel would leave them on their assignments because he was so shorthanded. Maybe she should test her friend’s theory, and have a little fun herself.

  Row upon row of television screens faced her. There must have been over fifty in various sizes and shapes, all tuned to the same channel. The temptation was too much to resist.

  She hesitated and laughed silently at the thought of her face showing up on all fifty screens at once. The mere suggestion was her downfall. If Mercy could ride up and down the escalator then she should be able to enjoy a few short moments of notoriety.

  “This is our best model,” the salesman was saying, stepping over to the wide twenty-five-inch screen. The salesman was busily showing an older couple the capabilities of the remote control when Goodness popped onto the screen.