Broken Angels

by Anne Hope

  But they’d been happy for a while. They’d been a family, even though Becca hadn’t seen it that way. He generally didn’t like dwelling on the past. Those days were gone. Time had swept in and wiped them away with a wet rag. Still, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t walked out on her. Would they have found a way to be happy again? Or would he have lost her to despair?

  Damned if he knew. Or ever would for that matter.

  With a sound that was half snort, half sigh, he turned away from Becca’s door and strode down the corridor. He stopped by Noah’s room, then Kristen’s, ensuring both children were properly tucked in. His last stop was Will’s room, where his own mattress awaited him beneath a messy tangle of sheets. He never could remember to make the bed, now less than ever. After covering Will, who had a habit of always kicking off his blanket, Zach crashed into bed and, shockingly enough, fell instantly asleep.

  Rebecca was in the kitchen making breakfast when Zach stumbled in the next morning. Kristen and Noah were playing tag around the kitchen table with the dog, while Will sat complaining in his high chair. The delicious aromas of bacon and coffee lingered in the air, yet she still caught a whiff of Zach’s mint-scented soap as he approached.

  “Enjoy your shower?” she asked him, not bothering to glance his way.

  “You bet.”

  She herself had awakened early and lazed in the tub while everyone was still asleep. After the restless night she’d had, she’d needed it. Despite the bath and a hefty dose of caffeine, she still felt as though she had a head full of wool. Resentment needled her gut at the sight of Zach looking so refreshed, especially since it was his fault she felt like crap.

  “You look rested.” She tossed a few plates—heaped with bacon and eggs—onto the table. They clattered for an instant, then settled into silence. “It’s surprising, considering how late you were out last night.” A cool draft blew in from the open window, matching the chill in her voice.

  She’d lain awake for hours the previous night waiting for him to come home. It wasn’t before one in the morning that she’d finally heard him skulking outside her door.

  Zach grabbed a piece of bacon from one of the plates and popped it into his mouth. “Are you keeping tabs on me now?”

  “Of course not,” she replied a little too passionately. “We’re divorced. You’re free to do as you please. Stay out all night for all I care.”

  Kristen, who never seemed to look where she was going, collided with a chair. It rocked on its hind legs, then smashed to the ground. The sudden burst of sound startled Bolt, who let loose a thunderous bark. A frightened Will began to cry.

  “If you don’t care, why do you look so pissed off?” Zach righted the chair, then gathered Will in his arms.

  “I’m not pissed off. You’re as free as a bird now. You can go out whenever you wish with whomever you wish.”

  Bolt clamped his teeth around Noah’s pants and tugged. The boy stumbled and fell. His sister rushed to his aid, yanking the fabric from the steel clasp of the dog’s jaw.

  “Is that what all this is about?” Zach asked, an amused look on his face. “You think I was out with some woman? Good God, Becca, don’t I have enough on my plate?”

  She wanted to believe him, but a part of her—the part that had never quite felt she was good enough for him—refused to yield. Of course there would be women. There had to be. Zach had always been a passionate man. She couldn’t possibly expect him to lead the life of a monk. She just hadn’t considered how difficult it would be to sit in the sidelines and watch.

  An unforgiving fist clenched in her abdomen. This arrangement wasn’t going to work. What had ever compelled her to agree to do this? “I think I made a mistake moving in.”

  All humor drained from his features. Anger hardened the stubborn set of his jaw. “No one’s forcing you to stay. Go ahead. Run away, from me, from the kids. Hell, from life.”

  Noah and Kristen stopped playing. Will quieted down. Even the dog stood statue still, watching them with curious round eyes.

  “You’re the track and field champion, not me.” Last time she checked, he was the one running…right out the door. It was becoming a pattern with him.

  He didn’t seem to agree. “Physically speaking, sure. But emotionally, you take the prize, sweetheart.”

  Did he actually have the gall to be angry with her? “You pompous, arrogant, hypocritical…ass!”

  “Why don’t you both leave?” Noah’s cry punctured the tension snowballing around them. Anger and disappointment contorted his youthful face into a grimace that made him look old and hard. “I don’t want either one of you here.” Then, shoving a chair aside, he stomped out of the kitchen, muttering something under his breath that sounded oddly like “losers”.

  Kristen’s lower lip trembled as water puddled in her eyes. Suddenly, she sprinted toward Rebecca and hugged her leg with a passion that rocked her. “Don’t go.” She sniffed. “Please.”

  That simple gesture humbled her beyond words. What had possessed her to argue with Zach in front of the kids? How could she threaten to leave when they’d just lost their parents in the worst possible way? God, Noah was right. She was a loser.

  “It’s okay, Kristen,” she reassured her, awkwardly bringing her hand to rest upon her sunny blond head. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

  Still, the girl refused to let go of her leg. Perhaps she believed if she held on hard enough she wouldn’t lose another person she cared about.

  Rebecca struggled to subdue the current of anxiety ripping through her. “Here,” she said, pulling out a chair. “Sit down and have your breakfast. You can’t go to summer camp hungry.”

  Kristen reluctantly let go of Rebecca’s leg and climbed into the chair, but she didn’t seem to have much of an appetite. She stared at her plate for a while, then moved her food around with her fork before finally taking a bite.

  Zach placed Will back in his high chair, looking as harried as she felt. The toddler shoved a few handfuls of food into his mouth, but decided halfway through that it was far more fun to throw the scrambled eggs at the dog instead. Bolt didn’t complain. He was all too happy to lick the floor clean.

  “What do we do about Noah?” she asked Zach.

  He shrugged noncommittally, displaying a belligerence befitting his eldest nephew. “I’ll get him.”

  Back straight, shoulders taut, he plowed out of the kitchen, while she remained behind to stew in her frustration and foolishness.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When it rains it pours.

  Why was it that whenever a day started off on the wrong foot, everything that followed seemed to go wrong? First, the kids were late for summer camp. Then Will decided to throw a crying fit that lasted no less than an hour. After which, Zach conveniently told her he had to go to Ad Edge to sort out some crisis, even though he was officially on holiday. Rebecca didn’t want to be paranoid, but she got the distinct impression her ex-husband was doing his best to avoid her. Heck, even the weather wasn’t cooperating. Boiling clouds gathered in the sky, once again promising rain. But the crowning glory was a phone call from her editor, informing her that her deadline had just been moved up by a week. She hadn’t had a moment to gather her thoughts, let alone write.

  All in all, this was shaping up to be a pretty lousy day.

  While Will napped, Rebecca tried to work, but inspiration insisted on eluding her. The best title she’d come up with was: “A Pedicure a Month Keeps Away Fungus”.

  Great, her career was on the line and all she could write about were mushrooms. Granted, women often did ignore their feet, but she doubted this was the type of article her editor, Carol, had in mind. Rebecca was already walking a tightrope with her.

  “You always used to know how to get to the heart of a matter,” Carol had told her after she’d submitted her last article. “That’s what I loved about you. I couldn’t read one of your pieces without tearing up. But these past t
wo years you’ve been writing nothing but fluff.”

  “I don’t write fluff,” Rebecca had argued. “I write about issues that deeply impact women’s lives.”

  Carol hadn’t bought it. In fact, she’d used the title of Rebecca’s latest article to prove her point. “Red is the New Black?”

  “Fashion’s important,” she’d voiced meekly. “The way other people perceive a woman influences the way she perceives herself. And I’m right. Fall fashions have already started hitting the shelves, and red is in.”

  Her editor’s disapproval had all but sizzled through the phone line. “Give me something I can really sink my teeth into,” she’d stated decisively before hanging up.

  Rebecca sighed. Maybe she should write about hamburgers. Nutrition was an important health factor. Which reminded her, she hadn’t had lunch. That could explain why her brain refused to cooperate. Snapping her laptop shut, she headed to the kitchen.

  She’d just finished making herself a sandwich when the phone rang. It was Noah and Kristen’s summer camp counselor, and she didn’t sound pleased. “Noah’s been in a fight,” the woman told her in a clipped tone. “He punched one of the campers. This type of behavior is not accepted here. We need you to come pick him up right away.”

  Rebecca tried to get more details out of her, but the counselor refused to elaborate. “We’ll talk when you get here,” she said with an unmistakable note of finality.

  Could anything else go wrong today? With a discouraged shake of her head, she took a few quick bites of her sandwich, then hastened upstairs to get Will, knowing full well he wouldn’t take too kindly to being awakened in the middle of his nap. Where was Zach when she needed him?

  As she expected, Will threw a one-boy concert loud enough to scare the neighbors. By the time she got the toddler dressed and ready, her nerves were rubbed raw and her patience was all but depleted. The last thing she needed was another phone call, and yet the phone screeched again. She seriously contemplated letting the machine get it, but then decided to answer it in case it concerned the kids. For all she knew, Noah had gone and decked the counselor as well.

  Thankfully, it wasn’t anyone from summer camp, but that attorney—Liam’s old boss, Neil Hopkins. “I’ve got some papers for you and Mr. Ryler to sign concerning the guardianship,” he advised her. “I was hoping you could drop by today—”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Hopkins, but that won’t be possible. Zach had to go to the office and I’ve got to go pick up the kids at summer camp. Noah was in some kind of fight.”

  A brief silence followed. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Static slunk into the line, and Rebecca realized a light drizzle had begun to fall. “Nobody was hurt, I hope.”

  “I’m not sure. The camp counselor was really tight-lipped. That’s why I’ve got to hurry over there. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude—”

  “No, no, you go right ahead. I’m meeting a client in your area tomorrow. Why don’t I just drop off the papers then?”

  “Sure. Sounds great.” She thanked the attorney and hung up the phone just as the line went dead again. She really had to remember to call the phone company and get that little problem fixed.

  With a whining Will secured in one arm and her purse tucked under the other, she shot out the door, all the while psyching herself for the tongue-lashing she was sure to receive.

  Will fell asleep in the car. When she got to the building that housed the kids’ camp, she was able to successfully transfer him to his stroller without waking him. The elation that crested within her at such a small feat was shocking to say the least. One would think she’d just negotiated a treaty that ensured world peace. Maybe in a small way she had.

  She took the elevator to the second floor, where a receptionist directed her to a closed office. A swarm of butterflies battered her ribs as she knocked. The door immediately swung open, and a tall woman with cat-green eyes and a short crop of black hair filled the doorway. She wore a T-shirt with the camp’s name and logo, a pair of gym pants, and an expression that could freeze the sun. Inside, Noah sulked in a chair beside a boy with an impressive bruise beneath his right eye.

  “As you can see,” the woman said, indicating the injured boy, “we have a serious problem. This type of behavior will not be tolerated.”

  “Hello to you, too,” Rebecca replied flippantly, then instantly regretted it upon seeing the dark scowl that twisted the woman’s features.

  “Do you think this is funny? You are this boy’s guardian, are you not?”

  “Yes, to the second question. No, to the first. I’m Rebecca James.” She extended her hand.

  The woman ignored her and continued her tirade. “I run a peaceful establishment here. That’s why people entrust their children to me. I can’t have campers going around punching other campers. It just isn’t acceptable.”

  “We’ve already established that,” Rebecca said. She’d never liked getting lectured. The counselor’s self-righteous tone made irritation flare in her veins and awakened all her protective instincts. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a moment to hear Noah’s explanation.”

  Noah’s eyes flashed to hers, and she could’ve sworn she saw a flicker of gratitude pierce through the misery.

  “So you condone this behavior?” Whatever veneer of civility the counselor struggled to maintain cracked.

  “I never said that. I just want to hear what happened. Did you even bother asking him?”

  “Several times,” the woman informed her frostily. “He refuses to speak.”

  Rebecca looked pointedly at her nephew. “Noah?”

  He shrugged, shot a nervous glance at his counselor. “He was picking on my sister.”

  The injured boy stuck out his lower lip in an impressive pout. “Not true,” he cried.

  “He called her a baby,” Noah insisted. His voice resonated with a surprising measure of steel for someone so young. “He even shoved her a couple of times, made her cry. I told him to stop, but he just laughed at me and shoved me, too, so I punched him.”

  “He’s lying,” the other boy yelled. “I didn’t shove nobody.”

  “It’s okay,” the counselor soothed him. “I believe you.”

  A black cloud of fury rolled across Noah’s face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Rebecca silenced him with a quelling look.

  “Why don’t we get Kristen in here?” she told the counselor. “Perhaps she can shed some light on the situation.”

  “She will only side with her brother.”

  “The way you’re siding with your son?” Noah challenged.

  Shock and indignation rushed through Rebecca. “This boy is your son?” she asked.

  The counselor tangled her arms across her chest and sat at the corner of the desk. “As a matter of fact, he is.”

  “That strikes me as a conflict of interest.”

  “No shit.” Noah interjected.

  “Noah!” The boy was not helping his case. She turned her attention back to the counselor. “How is this allowed?”

  “Are you questioning my judgment, Mrs. James?”

  “It’s Ms. James, and I most definitely am. Your son is sitting here with a black eye. How can you possibly be objective?”

  The woman looked as if she was about to explode. Her cheeks turned a frightful shade of tomato red. “I’ve had enough of this. No wonder the boy is such a problem case. With this kind of over-indulgence—”

  Rebecca reined in her temper. “Can I speak with you in private please?”

  She waited till both boys were shepherded out into the corridor before letting the counselor have it. “Over-indulgence?” she repeated. “Do you not know that that boy just lost his parents? Are you completely heartless? How is he over-indulged?”

  “And do you not know that by defending a child’s actions you unwittingly give him permission to continue the bad behavior?”

  “The way you just did with your son?”

  The counselor’s eyes widened with disbelief. �
�Get out of my office,” she spat. “You are a detriment to those children. You should be reported.”

  “I think you’ve got it wrong,” Rebecca voiced calmly. “The only person here who should be reported is you.” With that, she spun on her heels, opened the door and clumsily wheeled out the stroller, where Will lay, thankfully still asleep. “Noah, get your sister,” she commanded. “We’re going home.”

  For once, the boy happily complied. The counselor tore out of the office, grabbed her son by the hand and escorted him back to the gym, where a handful of campers were engaged in a soccer game. Through the window Rebecca saw Noah zero in on his sister and whisper something to her. Kristen dutifully followed her brother as a dozen or so heads swiveled curiously in their direction.

  “Is Noah in trouble?” Kristen asked the second she saw Rebecca.

  “I’m not sure.” Rebecca shot an assessing stare Noah’s way.

  “He was only defending me,” Kristen quickly corroborated her brother’s story. “That boy was being mean to me.”

  “Did you tell the counselor?” she asked her.

  “Yes, but she didn’t do anything, so Noah punched him to make him stop.”

  As upset as she was by this whole wretched situation, Rebecca couldn’t help but experience a swell of warmth at Noah’s protective nature toward his sister. He could call her a million names, push her around till judgment day, but woe befall anyone else who dared pick on her. Siblings were funny creatures. She had none herself and couldn’t quite understand the dynamic that existed between these two.

  “Still, fighting is wrong,” she told Noah. “No matter the reason.”

  “You didn’t seem to think so this morning,” he threw back at her without a thread of remorse.

  Whatever patience she had left began to wane. “Is that what all this is about? You’re getting even with your uncle and me for losing our tempers? We made a mistake. That doesn’t mean you need to go out there and repeat it the first chance you get.”