by Day Leclaire
She couldn’t resist his lighthearted game. “Too sedate,” she said, shaking her head in mock reproof.
“My feelings exactly.” He continued on, stopping next to a limo protectively guarded by a chauffeur. “The white Rolls?”
“Too elegant for a picnic,” Angie decided.
“Then we’ll keep looking. I know.” He snapped his fingers. “How about the black Ferrari?”
She cocked her head to one side as she considered the low-slung piece of high-powered machinery. “Tempting...”
“And the perfect color for a sophisticated blonde, don’t you think?” He winked and pointed to the car parked next to it. “Which is why I chose the red convertible.”
She laughed, admiring the sporty Mercedes. “Perfect choice, Mr. Harding.”
“Glad you approve.” He opened the door on the driver’s side. “Would you care to take it for a spin?”
“Are you...” Her voice caught and she tried again. “Are you serious?”
“When’s the last time you drove?”
“Over a year ago,” she confessed softly. “Really? May I drive?”
“You reminded me last night how important it is to enjoy the little things in life. And right now I can’t think of anything more enjoyable than a beautiful blonde driving a flashy red convertible on a sunny Saturday morning.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Can you?”
Her mouth trembled into a smile. “Just one thing more.”
“And what’s that?”
“Taking that drive with a good-looking man at my side.”
His return smile came slow and easy, sliding across her like a warm caress. “I think I can arrange that. Do you have a license?”
“I could dig one up if I had to.” Slipping into the driver’s seat, Angie opened her purse and removed a pair of large-framed sunglasses and perched them on the end of her nose. Next she pulled out a wide gold clip and used it to anchor her hair at the nape of her neck.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Reed asked as he climbed into the passenger seat. “How does all that stuff fit in such a tiny purse?”
She laughed. “What can I tell you? It’s an angel thing.” With that, she started the car, punched in the clutch and shifted into reverse. Tires screeching, she whipped out of the parking space. Freedom beckoned and she didn’t want to miss a single minute.
Reed had given her an unexpected gift—a brief moment to escape back into life. And she treasured every second, savoring each sensation that came her way. Despite the clip, the wind tore at her hair, whipping the curls around her face before tossing them behind her in a long, silvery stream. The scent of summer filled the air, crisply floral and yet tasting of the sweet corn ripening beside the freeway. The sun kissed her pale skin, giving it a rosy bloom she hadn’t known in over a year. The instant Reed noticed, he insisted they pull over so she could put on sunscreen. But she didn’t even mind that, because he helped, rubbing the creamy lotion into her arms and neck, then swiping the excess from the tip of her nose before planting a kiss there.
It took an hour and a half to reach Pointer’s Lake. The buses had arrived ahead of them and the families were busily unloading and marking their sites with beach towels and folding chairs.
“How about under the tree by the lake?” Reed suggested, pointing to a vacant spot.
“How about under the tree by the swings?”
“Ah, right. You don’t swim.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Does that also mean you don’t like the water?”
She forced a lightness to her reply. “Only if it’s in a bathtub covered up with lots of bubbles.”
“Remind me when we get to the hotel and I’ll see what I can do.” He snagged a large blanket from the back seat of the car. “So what happened to cause such a strong dislike for water?”
“I had a bad experience once.” She deliberately understated the case.
He gave her a sympathetic look. “Almost drowned?”
“Something like that.”
“I could help, if you’d like. It seems a shame to cut yourself off from so many pleasures because of one unfortunate experience.”
She released a silent sigh. “I died from that one unfortunate experience. And even though I can’t actually be killed again, I’d rather not relive it.”
He dropped the blanket and faced her. “You died.”
“Well, how the he—heck did you think I became an angel? Dying happens to be a prerequisite, you know.”
“We’re back to that, are we?”
“We never really left it,” she informed him regretfully. “We merely set it aside for a short time.”
“Angie, this is getting ridiculous.”
“You’re right. Here I am allowing myself to play when I should be completing my assignment.” She planted her hands on her hips and surveyed the crowd. “There must be someone here you can fall in love with. Or...” She turned and eyed him hopefully. “You can make a wish.”
“Wish for what?”
“A wife, of course,” she snapped. “True love. Haven’t you been paying attention?”
He settled onto his back on the blanket and folded his arms behind his head. “Apparently not.”
“Reed! Wish, dam it all!”
“Okay. I wish for true love. There. Satisfied?”
“No!” She dropped to her knees beside him. “That’s not good enough. It has to be your heart’s desire.”
“Wishing for marriage isn’t my heart’s desire. I don’t want to fall in love. Nor do I need a wife.”
“Well, what do you need?” she demanded in exasperation.
His expression closed over. “Nothing you can give me.”
“I—” She broke off, her brow wrinkling in confusion. A whisper brushed by, a faint longing too soft for her to catch. “There is something you want. What is it? I almost heard.”
“Drop it, Angie.” There was no mistaking the finality in his voice. “I’ve tried love. It didn’t work out. End of subject. Hey, look. They’re starting up a volleyball game.” It was a clear effort to distract her attention. “Care to play?”
She glanced over her shoulder toward the lake. Sand had been dumped along the shoreline and a group had congregated there, forming into teams. “I—It’s by the lake.”
“That’s okay.” His voice gentled. “You don’t have to go near the water. We’ll play on the sand.”
“I don’t know,” she murmured reluctantly.
“Tell you what. You don’t have to play if you’d rather not.” Ignoring her protests, he yanked off her bright red tennis shoes and helped her to her feet. “Just come over and watch from the grass.”
Of course, that didn’t last. Before long several of the couples they’d met the previous evening coaxed her into joining the game. Soon she was so caught up in the action, she succeeded in ignoring the sinister threat of the water lapping at the sand nearby. For the next hour they pelted the ball back and forth, laughing at everyone’s lack of skill. To Angie’s amusement, the ball plummeted out of bounds more often than in.
“Heads up, Ms. Makepeace!” Reed called as the ball soared over her for the twentieth time.
With a quick laugh, she gave chase. It rolled toward the lake and she hesitated for a split second. Please, not the lake! she whispered beneath her breath. Gathering her courage, she raced full-tilt to the water’s edge, intent on grabbing the ball and escaping before fear incapacitated her.
A husky youth from the opposite side of the net apparently had the same idea. Just as she reached for the ball, he careened into her, knocking her off her feel. It was destined, she realized then—she’d sensed it from the moment she’d arrived. She fell backward, straight into the lake. Her scream rent the air as the water closed over her head, washing into her nose and mouth. She was going to drown. And her last panicked thought was that perhaps angels could die twice.
The world tilted in that instant. She wasn’t Angie Makepeace anymore, but a different Angie, in a different time and place
. An Angie with far different memories.
The dark-haired woman walked along the dock, admiring the boats, her gurgling baby resting on one plump hip. The husky youth came out of nowhere, racing along the wooden planks, the slap of the worn boards beneath his feet echoing across the water. The woman took a single step toward the edge of the dock, drawing the baby’s attention to something offshore. They were tiny details. Insignificant details. Details that would never have mattered or been remembered by Angie, if not for two unfortunate events.
The first was the large boat that passed the dock, creating a small wake as it entered the harbor.
The other was that the youth looked over his shoulder at his friends, shouting as he ran.
Angie realized the danger long before anyone else. It was as though time slowed to a crawl, allowing her to watch the incident unravel—giving her an opportunity to make a life-altering decision. Then it happened. The boy’s shoulder clipped the woman square in the back just as the boat’s wake hit the dock. Unprepared for the impact, off balance from the waves lifting the dock beneath her feet, the mother started to fall. The little girl practically flew from the woman’s arms, arcing out over the water. The woman screamed, frantically pinwheeling for an instant in a desperate attempt to regain her balance. She failed, falling first against the motorboat anchored in the slip beside her. and then into the water.
Angie didn’t wait to see any more. She was closer than anyone else. Leaping from the dock, she hit the water at almost the same instant as the baby. It was a foolish thing to do considering she couldn’t swim. But her only thought was saving the child Her fingers snagged in silky-fine hair and she tugged with all her strength, lifting the baby over her head toward the surface. She could see hands reaching for the child. Others on the dock had finally arrived on the scene.
And then Angie’s hair caught in the heavy chain anchoring the motorboat, preventing her from clawing her way to the surface. She opened her mouth to scream, felt the sting of salt water washing into her nose and eyes, felt the burn in her lungs as she strained for oxygen. Her vision clouded over and in that timeless instant she’d known that her life was ending—that she’d never find love or happiness, never have a husband, or children, never grow old with someone...
“Please,” she’d cried silently. “Please, don’t let me die without ever having known love!”
Strong hands grabbed her, yanking her to the surface. “Angie!”
“Reed! Oh, Reed!” She coughed, choking on water. “The baby! Is the baby all right?”
“What baby?”
“The infant. From the dock.”
“There’s no infant, sweetheart. And no dock. Just . you. And you’re safe.”
“No dock?”
Then she remembered, remembered that the baby had been from a lifetime ago. A life she’d lived and left behind. Angie shuddered. She also remembered her death—and more to the point—remembered her heavenly mission and the consequences if she failed that mistsion. With a whimper of pain, she collapsed in Reed’s arms, burying her face against his shoulder.
“Is she okay?” The youth who’d knocked her in the water approached, regarding her apprehensively. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
“She’ll be fine. It was a little scare.” Reed raised his voice. “Go on with your game. We’ll catch up later.”
With that he lifted her into his arms and returned to their blanket. Wrapping her in it, he proceeded to rub away her fear-induced chill. “You scared me for a minute there, sweetheart. I thought you were actually going to drown in two feet of water.”
Angie peered at him from beneath the plaid cotton and Reed buried a smile. She looked like a half-drowned kitten, all big blue eyes and wet, tufted hair. “Two feet?”
“You’d have had to work hard to drown in that.”
She shivered. “It felt a lot deeper.”
“Panic will do that to you—screw with your perception.”
“Oh.” She let the blanket fall and bent her knees, wrapping her arms around them. “I didn’t mean to cause such an uproar.”
“You mentioned a baby. What was that about?”
“It was my one redeeming grace, apparently,” she muttered.
“Come again?”
“Da—Dang! Where did I put my purse?”
She tugged at the blanket until she found it. Digging around inside, she extracted a comb and started working the tangles from her hair. She also avoided his gaze, he noticed. That was a first.
“The baby?” he prompted patiently.
She didn’t want to answer, but he continued to sit and wait. Finally, she heaved a sigh of exasperation. “All right, fine. I’ll tell you. Satisfied?”
“For the moment.”
She glared her resentment. “There was a mother and a little girl. An infant. About Kip’s age, I guess.” Angie shrugged as though it didn’t mean anything, but her careless attitude didn’t quite ring true. It mattered. If he were any judge, it mattered a hell of a lot. “They were knocked into the water and I jumped in to try and help.”
“I thought you said you couldn’t swim.”
“I can’t.”
“You still jumped in, anyway?” he asked incredulously. “Wasn’t that a foolhardy?”
“As it turns out, it was downright stupid.”
“What happened to the little girl?”
“She made it.” Angie radiated tension. “I, unfortunately, didn’t.”
“And that’s when you became an angel?” He tried to say it without inflection. From the anger flaring to life in her eyes, he suspected his skepticism showed.
“If I’d considered the consequences, I probably wouldn’t have done it. Happy now?”
“But you did.”
“Yeah. I did. And my one act of self-sacrifice gave me an opportunity for redemption. Not total redemption, you understand. At least, not yet. Just a shot at having a place inside the Pearly Gates. The downside is... If I don’t succeed with you, I won’t have to worry about being an angel anymore.”
“Ah. That’s right I’m your last chance to earn your wings, aren’t I?”
“This isn’t a Jimmy Stewart movie.” she snapped. “I’ve already earned my wings, thank you very much. What I haven’t earned is a permanent place in heaven. That’s where you come in.” She tossed the comb to the blanket. “So, spill it, Harding. Why the he—heck are you so opposed to love and marriage? At least I have an excuse for my phobia. I’m afraid of water because I drowned. What’s your excuse?”
“I’m not afraid. Just cautious.”
“Why?” she demanded.
“I tried love once. It didn’t work out.”
“I gathered as much. What happened?” When he didn’t reply, she pressed. “Come on, Reed. I answered your questions. Now answer mine.”
It took him a full minute to reach a decision. He’d never spoken of his time with Emily to anyone. Not even his family. He ran a hand through his hair. Hell, especially not his family. But he wanted to tell Angie, to make her understand that his decision to remain single wasn’t an irrational one. He glanced at her, watching the sun break through the boughs of the oak above them and kiss her hair with gold. A gentle breeze stirred the drying curls, defeating her efforts to tame them. Damn, but she was beautiful. Lively, intelligent... His mouth twitched. And only slightly insane.
“Okay, Ms. Makepeace. You want the whole story? Fine. You’ve got it.” He plucked a long stem of grass and clamped it between his teeth. “Emily and I were planning to marry. We were living together at the time.” “When was this?”
“A little over two years ago. Everything seemed perfect. And then my mother asked me to take in Joel.”
“Because she couldn’t control him? Isn’t that what you told me?”
Reed nodded. “Right. Mom thought he’d listen to me.” He stared broodingly at the lake. “Hell, Angie. What could I say? He’s my brother.”
“I gather Emily expected you to say no
.”
“She sure did. She and Joel didn’t get along at all. She’d never had brothers and what she referred to as his ‘wildness’ frightened her.” He glanced her way. “He was being headstrong, same as I’d been at his age. But I couldn’t convince her of that. So she issued an ultimatum.”
Compassion crept into Angie’s husky voice. “You had to choose between Emily and Joel?”
“Yup.”
“And you chose your brother?”
He laughed without humor. “As a matter of fact, I never had to make that call. When I arrived home from work the next day, she’d cleared out.”
“There’s more, isn’t there?”
He didn’t answer immediately. He didn’t want to answer at all. But she’d been honest with him from the start. It was the least he could offer in return. “I found a box in the trash. A home pregnancy test.”
“She was pregnant?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted roughly. He tossed the blade of grass he’d been chewing to the ground. “That’s the damnable part. I’ve spent over two years trying to find out. I’ve hired private detectives, spoken to all her friends and business associates. No one knows anything, or if they do, they’re not saying. It’s like she’s disappeared off the face of the earth.”
“You have no idea where she might have gone?”
“She has a mother. Somewhere. But I can’t remember the woman’s name or where she lives.” He slammed his fist into the ground beside him, the soft earth absorbing the impact. “You wondered why I found holding Kip so difficult? It’s driving me crazy, wondering if I have a son—a boy like Kip or a daughter.”
“Have you told your mother any of this?”
He shook his head. “You’re the only one who’s heard the entire story, other than the detectives.” He shot her a grim look. “I don’t want anyone else informed, either. My mother and Joel already feel bad enough about Emily’s leaving. If they knew she might have been pregnant—”
Understanding dawned. “But that’s why your mother is so anxious to find you a wife.”
Reed nodded. “She’s guilty about the breakup. She figures that if she hadn’t asked me to take Joel, Emily wouldn’t have left. Mom’s been trying to atone. for it ever since.”
