“What?” Hanna said, impatiently.
“I’d like to thank you for not marrying me.”
“What?” Hanna said, confusion echoing in her voice.
“I’m in love with Daphne,” Rodney said. “You and I were never meant to be, except for you to be a stepping stone to my meeting her.”
“What?” Hanna said, for the third time, as she dropped down into the chair beside Daphne.
Daphne had the good sense to blush.
“I don’t know how it happened,” she said. “We just realized how compatible we are. And, well, the plans are all in place. It will be a beautiful spring wedding.”
Hanna watched the two of them. “Congratulations,” she said, mechanically.
“But, one glitch,” Daphne said. “My sisters won’t be able to fly in. I wondered if you’d be one of my bridesmaids?”
Hanna stared at her. “Are you kidding?”
“I’ll do it,” Betsy said.
“Do what?” Bobbi asked.
“Be a bridesmaid.”
“Me, too,” Bobbi said.
“And me, too,” Bea said.
· · · · ·
Fifteen minutes later, Jessibelle sat on the bus to Mercy Hospital, fidgeting as she anticipated meeting Gabriel Black. He would wake up from his coma. They would meet again. And this time, since he was human, a real relationship could develop between them.
But would he remember his time as an angel? Would he remember her?
It didn’t matter. She would be there for him. She’d help to nurse him back to health. She’d visit him every day and talk to him and read to him and touch him and massage his skin. She’d bring him flowers to smell, and flavors to taste. Every flavor she could find.
At last, she reached the big solid entrance doors to the ICU. She pressed the buzzer to announce her arrival and held her breath.
A few minutes later, the same nurse from earlier greeted her, looking tired and worn out.
“Can I see him? Did you get permission?”
The nurse touched Jessibelle’s arm and led her to a pair of chairs in the hall. “Sit down,” she said, and they did.
“I didn’t want to tell you on the phone,” the nurse said, sadness filling her expression.
A flicker of doubt wafted over the air between them. “Didn’t want—” Jessibelle stumbled, the words feeling thick on her tongue. “What are you saying?”
“I’m so sorry,” the nurse said, touching her hand. “Gabriel Black died today.”
Chapter Nine
Three weeks later
When the nurse told her Gabe had died, at first Jessibelle could not believe it. There had to be a mistake. Somehow, she knew Gabriel Black was her angel. She’d hoped he would come to her in human form, too.
But that was not to be. Gabriel Black had died alone, and she hadn’t even been able to see him.
The first few days had been the hardest. But she remembered what her grandmother had always said, that things happen for a reason, even though she might not understand the reason. At any rate, Gabe the human had died, and Gabe her angel had not returned.
He’d been sent to help her get over Rodney, and that’s what had happened. She’d wasted so much time moping over Rodney. So much stupid, lost time.
She knew the sadness would slowly begin to fade, and she knew there was no sense in wishing things were different. Gabe was gone. Falling in love with him had never been part of the plan.
And so, she worked at carrying on. She let the cool spring breezes touch her skin. She savored the smell of the cherry blossoms. She listened to the music of the ocean waves crashing by the lighthouse at Benson Point. And she decided to let herself see the world, with all its hurt, and all its beauty.
She’d even gone to Rodney and Daphne’s wedding. Not only that, but a minute ago, she’d done what Gabe had asked her to do. She’d danced with Rodney.
He’d asked her to dance, just like Gabe had said he would. “You look beautiful, Jessibelle,” Rodney said. “I don’t think you’ve ever looked more beautiful. And I didn’t know you could dance like that. Would you like to dance again?”
“No, thank you. Once is enough. I’d like to sit down now.”
“Of course.” He led her to a table at the back of the New Breckenridge Wedding Hall and sat down beside her.
“Looks like everything went off without a hitch,” he said, surveying the huge room with its garlands of pink and white.
“Yes,” she agreed. Everything had gone off without a hitch, if you didn’t count the replacement of the bride three weeks ago. Most of Daphne’s family, except for her sisters, lived in New Breckenridge so they’d all attended. Betsy, Bobbi and Bea made lovely bridesmaids in their puffy pink fairy-like dresses. And Rodney’s relatives had flown in from all over the country.
“How’s your grandmother Lackster?”
“Completely recovered from her fall,” Rodney said. “Look, she’s dancing with my cousin Eric Madison.”
Jessibelle looked where Rodney pointed and saw the short gray haired lady dancing with the tall dark haired race car driver.
“You should meet him.”
“Eric Madison? No, thanks.”
“He’s moved here. Did you know?”
“He has? Why?”
Rodney shrugged. “I’m here,” he said, like that was reason enough. “And it’s a great town. We have sailing,” he counted off on his fingers. “We’re only an hour from the mountains for hiking and skiing. And he’s retiring from car racing.”
Retiring? She hadn’t heard about that. “The accident must have made an impression.”
“Not just the accident,” Rodney said. “It was time. He’s got plenty of wins and tons of advertising offers. And you’ve got to admit, he went out in a spectacular way. They’re calling him Eric Angel Wings Madison.”
A flash of sadness squeezed her heart. “Angel Wings,” Jessibelle repeated, thinking of her angel. Absently, she started to sort the gold and silver confetti hearts sprinkled over the white linen tablecloth.
They sat a moment, listening to the music and watching the dancers drift across the floor. Then Rodney said, “He’s learning to fly.”
“Pardon?”
“He’s learning to fly helicopters, at the Springbank Airport. For some reason, he wants to take part in Mountain Rescue operations.”
Mountain Rescue? Odd, Jessibelle thought, remembering how Gabe had been on the Mountain Rescue team. He’d fallen that day in the mountains north of—
“Regrets, Rodney?”
It was Hanna. She stood next to their table holding two glasses of red wine.
Rodney looked up at her. “What are you talking about?”
“Do you already regret not marrying Jessibelle?”
“Don’t be silly,” Rodney said, standing. “Daphne is the perfect wife.” He looked around the crowded room. “Where is she?”
“Over by the gift table,” Hanna said, and Rodney wandered off.
Hanna gave Jessibelle a glass of wine and took Rodney’s seat. “You look very pretty in your dress. I’ve never seen you in red before. It’s perfect for you.”
“Thank you,” Jessibelle answered. She loved her dress, the one Gabe had helped her to find.
“Glad you came?”
“Wouldn’t have missed it.” Jessibelle took a sip of the wine, rich and smooth with hints of cherry and spice.
“All of the relatives seem to like the new bride,” Hanna said, watching the dance floor. “Rodney’s mother loves her. They’re very alike,” she mused, “or else Daphne is saying all the right things.” Hanna sipped her wine. “I wonder how long that will last.”
They sat in silence for almost a whole song, watching the crowd, feeling the celebration and relaxing in their own little bubble. And then Hanna said, “You should dance with that guy.”
“Who?”
“Over there. Rodney’s cousin, Eric Madison. He keeps watching you.”
“He does?” Jess
ibelle glanced to where the dark haired race car driver sat, catching his eye. She quickly looked down, focusing on her wine glass, twirling it and watching the red wine glow in the crystal.
“Pretty interesting story about him,” Hanna said. “He’s even more famous after that crash.” And then she added, “He’s moving here. Have you heard?”
“Rodney told me.”
“He’s watching you again,” Hanna said. And then, “Oh look, Daphne’s talking to him now. I’d better rescue him.”
Hanna navigated her way across the dance floor heading toward the table where Daphne, in her brilliant white dress, stood talking to Eric Madison. She’d already removed her veil and her blonde curls tumbled down her back. Eric had stood up to greet her, and now he was shaking her hand. And then Hanna was there, wrapping her arm around Daphne’s waist and giving her a sideways hug. Eric nodded to Daphne and Hanna, backed out of the conversation and moved toward the bar.
Jessibelle set her wine glass on the white tablecloth and lined up more of the gold and silver confetti hearts, arranging them in groups of three and five and seven. And then she sensed someone approaching her table.
She looked up, and saw Eric, standing tall and handsome and confident.
“Hi. I’m Eric Madison.”
“Jessibelle Shay,” she answered, thinking that he looked vaguely familiar. She drew her hands toward the base of her wine glass.
“Can I join you?”
Why not, she thought. Everyone else was coming to her table. “Sure,” she said.
He sat in the chair beside her. “I was going to get another drink and then, I mean, I wondered, ah . . .”
He seemed shy and she found that odd, for a man who must spend a lot of time in the limelight. She also found it a little endearing, and she wanted to put him at ease.
“That was an impressive accident,” she said. “You’re very lucky.”
“Yes, I am,” he answered. “I still can’t remember what happened. One minute I was flying through the air and the next minute I had landed and I felt . . . whole. And very glad to be alive.” He quirked a little smile. “That sounds stupid.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Jessibelle leaned her elbows on the table and lifted her wine glass with both hands, suspending it over the tablecloth. “Rodney says you’re quitting racing.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I don’t want to be a race car driver anymore.”
There was something wistful in his voice that made her look into his eyes—the dark eyes with flecks of green in the outer edges of his irises.
Like Gabe’s eyes.
“Have you ever been to a race?” he asked her.
“No,” she answered, watching his eyes and feeling her hands start to tremble as she gripped the wine glass, squeezing it.
“Have we met before?” he asked her, watching her closely.
It couldn’t be. He couldn’t be real. She stared at him, unable to speak.
“Jessi?”
Her heart stuttered, and the wine glass tumbled, spilling a bright red stain over the white cloth.
“Don’t worry about it,” Eric said, pushing the tablecloth in to trap the liquid. “Would you like me to get you another glass of wine?”
“What did you say?”
“I can get you another—”
“No, you called me . . . Jessi.” The way Gabe did.
He smiled, the same way Gabe did, and laughter filled his eyes. “You look like a Jessi,” he said. “Do you want me to call you Jessibelle?”
“No, I mean, when you said my name . . . you reminded me of someone.”
He nodded. “I know what you mean. You look familiar to me too. Sometimes it just feels like you’ve met someone before.”
He finished piling the white linen into the center of the table. “Anyway, I was going to get another drink and then I thought . . . Would you like to go for a walk with me?”
She stared at him. At her Gabe. And she didn’t know what to think. Could this really be happening?
“I guess not,” he said, shrugging in that endearing shy way. He turned to go.
She touched his arm, felt the solid strength of him, and the world righted itself. “I’d love to,” she said. “I’d love to walk with you.”
He smiled and held out his hand. She put her hand in his, and together they left the wedding.
About the Author
When I was a child, I shared a bedroom with three of my younger sisters. I used to tell them stories to help them fall asleep. Apparently the stories weren’t particularly interesting, because they fell asleep before the stories ended. Unaware that they were sleeping, I would keep telling the story, until my mother called up the stairs. “Sue? They’ve gone to sleep.” And then I would quietly finish the story in my head.
I didn’t start writing down my stories until much later. In my last year of university, I collected all the reports from my Marketing Group and wrote up our study like a novel. My classmates liked it, and better, so did the prof.
Finally, after getting a degree in Commerce, I found a little two-line invitation to a romance writers organization in the back of the Writers Guild magazine. And I showed up. I had found my people.
“Suzanne Stengl has a lovely voice with a subtle hint of humor.”
—A.M. Westerling, author of The Countess’ Lucky Charm
“Suzanne Stengl’s descriptions and characters are really memorable.”
—Amy Jo Fleming, author of Death at Bandit Creek
Find more books by Suzanne Stengl at:
www.suzannestengl.com
Reviews: The Ghost and Christie McFee
When Christie McFee reads about the gold hidden at the bottom of Lost Lake, she decides to put some adventure in her life by diving for treasure. But when she meets Gaven St. Michel, the Divemaster on La Bonne Aventure, she starts to think that treasure can be whatever you want it to be.
If only Christie could figure out how to deal with the two ghosts who are haunting her—one of them wants her help, and the other wants her dead.
Reviews
The main characters are likeable, the romance is sweet, and the more serious moments are contrasted with a winning light humor. It’s clear the author is an experienced diver, because the underwater treasure hunting scenes are expertly told. And the descriptions – beautiful.
—Roxy Boroughs, author of Crazy for Cowboy
Her descriptions of the underwater ghost town are fascinating. Her characters are well drawn with compelling pasts and the plot is engaging and fast paced. Of course this story is also a romance (of the sweet variety) and was very satisfying.
—D.L. Snow, author of the Thief of Hearts trilogy
I loved Christie McFee, the heroine, who arrives in Bandit Creek with an agenda that starts out with her first dive. Throughout the story, author Suzanne Stengl skillfully uncovers the heroine’s troubled past, reveals many of Bandit Creek’s secrets and mysteries, and creates a lovely blend of humor, suspense, and mystery.
— Sheila Seabrook, author of Wedding Fever
Ms Stengl’s use of detailed description puts the reader in the center of the underwater diving scenes and provides an unexpected and eerie setting for the ghostly appearances. This is an enjoyable read for any fans of romance and for everyone who has ever enjoyed hearing ghost stories around a campfire.
—Brenda M. Collins, author of Witch in the Wind
Just finished reading your book – loved it – you are an amazing writer – once I got started I could not stop reading.
—JM Carron
Now turn the page for an excerpt from The Ghost and Christie McFee.
The Ghost and Christie McFee
by
Suzanne Stengl
Chapter One – excerpt
The gold had lain at the bottom of Lost Lake for over a hundred years, tempting treasure hunters and smashing dreams. Rumors had spread about the lost gold shipment and divers had perished searching for it. With each year that passed, the stren
gth of the legend had grown, bringing new hopefuls, more freak accidents, and more deaths.
Ethel Hamilton tucked a pin into the bun that held her hair, adjusted her hat and shook out her long skirts. Then she picked up the sandy piece of newspaper and watched the young man come out of the dive shack. He walked across the beach toward the dock.
She looked at the newspaper and, one more time, she read the headline printed on the first page of the Bandit Creek Gazette. Diver almost drowns searching for Lost Lake treasure. She dropped the paper, letting it fall back on the beach.
It was time she did something about that gold.
· · · · ·
Gaven St. Michel saw the loose page of newspaper fluttering across the beach. He caught it, tossed it in the trash can and walked onto the dock to wait for the divers to board La Bonne Aventure.
Some days he hated the tourists. But they were his job, at least for the summer. He didn’t have to do this for the rest of his life.
He looked at his clipboard and saw seven names. Charlie had booked them yesterday . . . and checked their credentials.
Except, sometimes, Charlie skimped on the credentials. His Uncle Charlie was always glad for the money from the tourists and he never wanted to turn anyone away. But some of these people had no business being on a dive boat. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be any situations this morning.
They were coming out of the dive shack now, carrying their personal gear. The wet suits, air tanks, BCDs and regulators were already on the boat.
An older couple approached first—the couple from Missoula. They looked to be in their late fifties. They’d dived in lots of places, most recently last February in the Galapagos, so they were obviously experienced and wouldn’t be a problem. He’d help them with their time and depth limits since they probably weren’t used to diving at altitude.
A younger couple followed, holding hands. The newlyweds from Seattle. They were not as experienced but they’d had the basic PADI courses.
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