Angel Baby (Heaven Can Wait)

by Laura Marie Altom

  “And then, look here,” she droned on. “Here’s little baby Katie day after she was born. Peed all over the doctor. Peeing at inopportune times runs in the family.”

  Angel summoned a weak smile.

  Esther crossed her arms. “Okay, so that’s everyone in the family, and not once did I see a photo of you. Have any ideas as to why that might be?” She raised her penciled-on eyebrows.

  “Jonah hasn’t had a chance to get our wedding photos framed. The rest of our snapshots—” the ones that should’ve been nestled alongside the other family albums “—got lost. Or haven’t been developed. Or—“

  “Sure.” Esther nodded. “Makes perfect sense.” Cocking her head toward the piano, she asked, “Have any idea whose piano that is you were banging away on?”

  “M-mine?”

  “Yours? Ha! That instrument belonged to Jonah’s momma, God rest her soul. She was a dear thing. And, to the best I can recall, never peed on anyone.”

  The pounding behind Angel’s forehead quadrupled. She had to sit. Either sit down or fall down. Must’ve been the beer.

  Bull. That one piddling sip didn’t do jack. What you need is another one—or no, better yet, some of that Crown you were craving earlier.

  “No,” Angel said.

  “No, to what? I didn’t ask you anything.”

  “No, I mean...” Angel shook her head, backing to the sofa to slowly lower herself down. “I don’t know what I mean. Look,” she cast a harried glance her guest’s way. “Maybe it’d be best if you leave.” And be sure to take that picture of the stacked brunette you said was Jonah’s wife with you.

  Now along with the pounding came ringing. A tinny, far-off sound that made Angel’s teeth hurt. Just to make sure they were still in her head, she touched her two front teeth.

  “You know,” Esther aimed another beady-eyed stare Angel’s way, “I think I’ll call the law after all. You don’t seem right.”

  “No, really, I—I’ll be fine. Just as soon as—” the room stops spinning.

  Better get a drink, Angel. You’re gonna need one when you finally get the gist of what this old bat’s been trying to tell you. You’re not Jonah’s wife. Not Lizzy’s mother. You’re not anyone. Just a nameless, faceless drunk, destined to live life alone—unless, of course, you count the company of a nice, warm bottle.

  No, no, no.

  Angel rested her elbows on her knees, leaned forward, rocking, cradling her hands to her forehead, trying to press out the information she knew lurked inside, just beyond her reach.

  Somewhere out there, Esther was still talking, but none of her words made sense. The only thing that did was that mean voice in her head.

  Get a drink…Get a drink… Get a drink…

  She looked up, but the room was different—spinning in a dizzying swirl of red, beige and blue. Esther looked different.

  Scary. Old.

  Older than old, reminding Angel that she wasn’t getting any younger. It was more than time for her to figure out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.

  But I already know. I want to get married. Stop this roller coaster I’ve been on and be not just a good mom to Lizzy, but a phenomenal mom. I want her raised like I always wanted to be. In a small town where everyone’ll know her name.

  That’s crap. It’s all gone way too far for any of that Pollyanna shit. What you really need is a drink.

  Why wouldn’t everything stop spinning?

  Why couldn’t she catch her breath?

  “Jonah?” Where was he? Angel called for him again, but her limbs turned to jelly. She was slipping, falling. She had to keep herself together. But then free will was snatched away and her world faded to black.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Oh, now there’s a great role model to raise my child. Are you sure about this, Herc?” Geneva looked over her shoulder to launch into their usual banter. But Herc was gone.

  Speaking of which… so was her cloud. She’d been so immersed in the latest adventures of Blondie that she’d failed to notice the change in venue. Now, instead of just looking at the screen, she was in it—only not completely in it, but sort of floating just above and to the left.

  Geneva shook her head. “I’ve been on some wild trips in my time, but this one takes the cake.”

  Before her, Blondie lay sprawled on Jonah’s living room sofa, and that old biddy Esther Carmichael ran as fast as her stubby legs allowed into the kitchen to dial 911.

  No—wait—she wasn’t dialing 911, she was calling the diner.

  “Hello, Precious?” Geneva heard Esther say. “Yes, hi, it’s me, and I don’t have time for chitchat. Get me Jonah straightaway.”

  Geneva scrunched her nose. What was going on? Why couldn’t she hear the other end of the line?

  “Hey, Esther,” Jonah sounded winded. “What’s up?

  Whoa. Talk about ask and ye shall receive!

  “What’s up?” Esther snorted. “I hear some strange woman belting out show tunes at your piano, right? So I let myself in with the spare key and, sure enough, there’s a blond in there claiming to be your wife. Ring any bells?”

  Jonah groaned. “Okay, so then what?”

  “I tried setting her straight but, just about the time I got up a full head of steam, she fainted on me. Fainted! Can you believe it?

  After the past twenty-four hours Jonah’d had, at this point he’d have believed just about anything. Covering the mouthpiece of the phone, he said to his only waitress, a pretty teen he knew secretly had her application in at the McDonald’s out by the highway, “Hey, Precious, think you can handle things around here on your own for a couple hours?

  “If you mean can I handle giving old George a refill on his twenty-sixth cup of coffee, then sure.”

  “Good girl. I’ll be back as quick as I can. If things get too busy, give me a call.”

  “Busy?” She rolled her eyes. “You wish.”

  Ten minutes later, Jonah slammed his truck into park on the dirt drive beside the house, raced around the passenger side to spring Katie from her kid seat, then dashed up the back stairs.

  Esther met him at the door. “You drove too fast.”

  While she reached for the baby, he kissed her weathered cheek. “Never happy, are you, Esther?”

  She shrugged before trailing after him into the house. “Your wife’s still on the couch. When she came out of it, she started asking for you, so I told her you’d be home soon. That seemed to calm her, so I popped one of your mom’s ugly afghans over her and she fell right off to sleep.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “I think.”

  She pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and lowered herself to the seat. Katie facing her on her lap, she said, “Something’s different with this one. She’s still too skinny, but her color’s better. A lot better.”

  “Tell me about it.” Jonah peeked at still-sleeping Angel, before joining Esther and the baby—who’d been cranky the whole time they’d been at the diner, but who’d now calmed down enough to flash their guest an adorable grin.

  “Oh—” Esther’s sharp blue eyes twinkled “—rest assured I’m not leaving till you do.”

  Thirty minutes and nearly an entire pot of coffee later, Esther shook her head, “If that isn’t the damnedest story I’ve ever heard.”

  “So now can you see why I’m going along with whatever she says?”

  “No,” she wagged her cup for a refill.

  “Thought Doc told you to not overdo it on the caffeine?”

  “What does he know? He’s just a kid.”

  “Right.” Jonah did her bidding.

  “Anyway…” she said after a sip, “hon, you’ve got to tell her the truth. It’s the right thing.”

  “At Katie’s expense? I mean, look at her.” She’d fallen asleep in her wind-up swing. “She even looks healthier with her eyes closed. Being away from Angel for only a few hours this afternoon set her off. I’m sorry, but I don’t have it in me to lead her back down the road she
was on. I can’t risk it. She was almost put on a feeding tube.”

  Esther took a moment to ruminate on that before asking, “What do you think happened to this Angel’s baby?”

  Jonah sighed. “I wouldn’t know. Honestly, sometimes I think I don’t want to know—ever. I mean, look at this kitchen. It hasn’t looked this good in years. Angel not only cared for Katie this morning, but me. She cooked me breakfast, washed my clothes. Cared for me in ways I haven’t been since living with my folks.”

  “That what you want? Another set of parents to make everything all better?”

  “No. Shoot, no.” He rubbed his whisker-stubbled jaw. “That’s not what I’m saying. Her being here just feels nice. Somehow…right.”

  “Even though you know there’s a very good chance her own family is out there missing her?”

  “You’re missing my point.” He stood to pace. “All I mean is that having her around a few more days, while it’ll be awkward, won’t exactly be a hardship. Besides, remember when Lila Stone went off her rocker and Doc told us that as long as she didn’t hurt anyone we should play along?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How’s this any different?”

  Esther’s eyes narrowed. “Cut the sales job, boy. You know full well it’s different. Just promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That you are at least doing everything possible to find her real family.”

  Nodding, he said, “Sam was over this morning. He’s looking anywhere he can for leads.”

  “But until he digs something up, you expect me to keep my mouth shut?”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Would you?”

  “I’ll think about it,” she said with one of her legendary scowls.

  “Sure you’re feeling better?” Jonah asked Angel when she finally woke around eight that evening.

  After sipping the water he’d brought her, she nodded. Her expression was dazed, reminding him of how she’d looked the first time he saw her curled up in a ball on the diner’s bathroom floor.

  “You gave me a scare.” He took the glass from her, setting it on a side table.

  “I gave me a scare.” She pushed at the long hair that’d fallen over her eyes. “That crazy neighbor of yours—Esther?”

  “That would be her.”

  “Well, she kept needling me. Hounding me with facts about how there was no possible way I could be your wife.”

  “Did you believe her?” From his perch on the coffee table, he leaned closer.

  “Of course not, but then she went so far as to show me a picture, that one over there—”

  Jonah cringed when she pointed to his last remaining photo of Geneva, taken right after they’d said their marriage vows. He’d been meaning to take it down, put it in storage for Katie along with the rest of her mother’s pictures and a good portion of her clothes and other stuff, but it must’ve slipped his mind. “That old thing? That’s a prom picture.”

  Angel’s shoulders sagged. “That’s what I told her, but she wouldn’t let it go.”

  “Yeah, I love her,” he forced a grin, “but sometimes Esther gets her teeth into a subject and clamps hold. Speaking of teeth—did she mention she’s still got most of her own?”

  Nodding, Angel laughed, then winced, covering her breasts with her hands. “Lizzy’s probably hungry.” She shrugged off the afghan.

  “Let me get her,” he said, standing.

  “You sure? You’ve no doubt been on your feet all day.”

  He nodded, already on his way to the stairs. “I’m good. But thanks for asking.”

  “Jonah? I can’t believe you didn’t wake me.” Monday morning, Angel rubbed sleep from her eyes and pushed herself up in the bed.

  Setting a tray loaded with coffee, toast, juice, and a copy of the Blue Moon Gazette across her knees, her ultra-thoughtful husband shrugged. “After the rough time of it you had yesterday, this morning I figured you might need extra rest.”

  “Where’s Lizzy?” she asked. “And what about the diner? Shouldn’t you be there?”

  “Yeah, yeah, but it’s only quarter past seven. Lizzy’s still snoozing and on weekday mornings—my last remaining busy time—I still employ a cook and a waitress.”

  “Ah,” she nibbled a corner of toast. “Then you’re playing hooky.”

  “Guess you could say that.”

  She put the toast back on the plate in favor of squeezing his hand, “Whatever you call it, I like it. A girl could get used to breakfast in bed.” Glancing out the window at the sun glinting off still dewy green hills, Jonah swallowed hard.

  I could get used to having Katie be this content.

  Last night was the first full night’s sleep he’d gotten since Geneva left and, truth be told, he’d brought Angel breakfast in bed probably more to alleviate his guilt over that fact than by any rampant altruistic urges.

  “What’re you going to do today?” Jonah asked, determined that, unlike yesterday, today’s topics with his temporary houseguest would remain light.

  The morning coal train wailed.

  She chewed another bite of toast, swallowed. “Actually, I had a tough time falling asleep last night—I guess maybe because I slept so much yesterday afternoon. Anyway, while I was staring at the ceiling last night, I was hoping—if you have time—you’d draw me up a list of things I used to do.” Grazing her still purple forehead, she said, “I have a hard time accepting this myself, that I can’t even remember how I passed my days. I swear, you must think I’m a total nutcase.”

  “Only once in a while.” He teased her with his sexy-slow grin. “But sure. I’d, ah, be happy to make you a list. Probably be after lunch, though, until I get around to it. That okay?”

  Her smile radiated through him, once again filling him with the same unfamiliar sensation he felt the very first night she’d spent in his house. The sensation that, yeah, for once, everything wasn’t just okay but very okay.

  In fact, it was downright great.

  And, for once, instead of fighting that sensation, he decided to go with it and enjoy his day.

  If Sam’s piece-of-crap, dinosaur of a computer had been even a smidgeon more compact, he would’ve hurled it at the Boy Mayor’s picture—the one he kept stapled to the dart board on the back of his office door. Trouble was, if he had flung the damned thing, glass and plastic would fly, making one helluva mess that, since the Boy Mayor refused to hire even janitorial help, meant Sam would be stuck cleaning.

  “Christ on a cupcake…” That little toad suck had made it so Sam couldn’t even enjoy a well-earned temper tantrum.

  Out of habit, he reached across his desk and into the jar of cookies his mom regularly filled. All he needed was a nice pecan sandy to soothe his nerves. Transform him from whiny kid back into Super Cop.

  Then he curved his fingers around not a crisp cookie but a plastic baggie. Inside were slimy baby carrots. Affixed to the outside was a note:

  Dear Sammy,

  The mayor asked me to help cut back on your cholesterol, so please enjoy the enclosed carrots.

  Love, Mom

  Sam’s roar could’ve been heard clear to Pine Bluff. This was too much.

  He hated it when his mom called him Sammy, and he especially hated the thought of his sweet, unsuspecting mother conspiring with that elected snake!

  A boy-snake, who, while the rest of the city employees occupied outdated offices too cold in the winter and too hot in the summer, sat in the lap of luxury in the brand-spanking-new municipal complex out by the highway. Funny, though, so far the city only had funding to finish the mayoral office portion of the building.

  Boy Mayor had new computers, phones, video conferencing equipment and even a brass cappuccino machine, when here the town’s police force of five had to make do with a duct-taped Mr. Coffee.

  Sam was damn near twenty-four hours into his search for Angel’s true identity, yet because of his outdated equipment, he’d still come up with exactly squat. Right on cue, just w
hen he was following up on a promising lead, the computer screen would either go blank or freeze.

  He must’ve rebooted fifteen times since six that morning.

  To make matters worse, some kid must’ve hacked into his broadband. Every time Sam thought he was getting an email from one of the counties he’d queried about Angel, all that popped up were smiley faces and peace signs.

  Even the phones were screwed up, filled with static and elevator music from the water department’s hold lines.

  Sam would’ve liked to blame that on the Boy Mayor or evil hackers too, but seeing as he’d had a similar problem last month and found out it was caused by mice nesting in the attic, he figured that was probably the case again.

  He shook his head.

  Back to his email, this peace sign thing was exactly the kind of juvenile prank his niece, Heather, would pull, only she was too interested in the latest nail polish colors to have figured out how to hack into his computer. Still, since Sam had told her mother he’d caught her drinking beer down by the river, he wouldn’t put it past her to put one of her delinquent boyfriends up to the task.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Geneva cast her most dramatic dagger-eyes at Sam.

  Granted, aside from Jonah, he had the best buns in town and, okay, so his profile was way cute and those soulful brown peepers of his were enough to make any red-blooded girl all hot and bothered. But for his insinuation that a girl couldn’t pull off a simple email hack, she’d like to give him a good, hard slug.

  Too bad she had no fists!

  Oh, well, seeing how being dead had given her an amazing knack for dealing with all things electronic, she supposed she shouldn’t dwell on that pesky matter of having no body.

  Just to mess with Sam a little further, not to mention enhance the cool seventies theme she had going, she conjured up a sweet cloud of incense to perfume his musty, cop-scented air.