“You think I’m wrong?”
“For what?”
“Not telling her the truth about how she came to be here?”
“Hard to say. Guess you could tell her the truth, but then most times she looks so happy, I’d kinda hate burstin’ her bubble.”
“You said most times.” Jonah glopped the pie filling he’d already prepared into the shell. It smelled richly of cinnamon and butter and apples. “When have you seen her not looking happy?”
“Mostly ’round you. When you’re in one of your strong moods, where you think you’re doin’ her some big favor by not lettin’ her get too carried away playing the part of your wife.”
Jonah slapped the top crust on the pie, pinching the sides.
“Then there’s times when you forget all about her bein’ a stranger. Those times I catch you lookin’ at her tendin’ to little Katie. And she’ll look at you and you look at her, and damn if it don’t make my heart nearly burst just lookin’ at you two.”
“So what do you think I should do?” Jonah slid the pie into the oven.
“If it was me, I’d do nothin’. Lord knows there’s precious few good times in this life. Might as well enjoy the ones you get.”
From the dining room came thunderous applause, along with plenty of wolf whistles. Through the kitchen pass-through, Jonah watched, equally as dazzled as any one of those old geezers seated at the counter, as his pretend wife took one last bow before freshening all of their coffees.
The day before had been the first day in over a year the diner turned a profit. Was it a coincidence it also happened to have been the same day the woman who’d single-handedly saved his baby now seemed to have turned her special magic onto his dying business, as well?
The queasy churning in his stomach told him no.
Far from coincidence, Angel was meant to be in his life. Question was, for how much longer?
“Your fans are going to be royally ticked you’re taking today off.” Hand-in-hand on Easter Sunday, Jonah and Angel walked the verbena-strewn field behind the house. The weather was balmy perfection. Not a cloud in the sky, not a breath of wind. Over by the pond, a bullfrog croaked and already there were plenty of insects about, buzzing and humming and chirping over the earth’s good fortune.
Jonah remembered many March Easters when cold drizzle had devastated little girls, and even big ones, because they’d had to wear coats over pretty new dresses. But, on this sublime day, gals would be happy in bikinis. Come to think of it, that would make the guys around these parts happy too.
With Katie napping upstairs in her crib, after spending a busy morning gumming plastic eggs and a big chocolate bunny, he and Angel were finally snatching a moment for themselves. Jonah carried the baby’s new monitor in his free hand.
“Let them be ticked,” Angel said. “Spending today together—as a family—is more important. Although Esther had her heart set on us going to church.”
“I think she just has the hots for Reverend Reynolds. Wants to suck up to him by padding the church roll.”
Angel laughed. “I think you’re right. Last Saturday we ran into him at a yard sale and she said he had unusually tight buns for a man of the cloth.”
“That sounds about like Esther. What about you?” he asked, loving the way her buttery hair flowed with her every step.
“What about me?”
“What do you think of his buns?”
“There’s only one set of buns around here that turn me on—yours.” She brazenly pinched him on the right pocket of his faded jeans.
“Ouch. You’ve got mean fingers.”
“That’s not all I’ve got.” She stopped walking to face him, press her palms to his chest. “Make love to me, Jonah.”
“Here? Now?”
She nodded.
Sweeping stray locks of hair from her cheeks, he stared deep into her fathomless aquamarine stare. “You know I want to.”
“Then what’s stopping you?”
“You know that, too.”
She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. It was a branding kiss, one that said he was hers with bold, brazen strokes of her tongue. When she pulled back, she asked, “Did that seem like the kiss of a woman who’s confused about anything? Least of all the man she loves?”
“Angel, I—”
Fingertips twined through his short hair, she ground him to her, changing gears from need to desperation. “Please, Jonah,” she begged, pausing to catch her breath.
Pushing her lightly away, yet still keeping his hands curved atop her shoulders so she knew he wasn’t pushing her away, just their actions, he said, “Not here. Not like this.”
“But why?” Tears glistened in her jeweled eyes.
Sliding his hands to her cheeks, with the pads of his thumbs he brushed away her tears. “Because I—it’s crazy. Truth? Because I love you too damned much.”
“Y-you love me?”
He was unable to hold her stare—not because of insincerity or shyness, but because he knew soul-deep that what he was doing was wrong. Because she wasn’t his to love. He swallowed hard. Finally able to meet her searching gaze, he said, “When this is over, I’m going to marry you all over again.”
“When what’s over?”
He kissed her forehead. “This thing with your memory.”
“What if it never comes back?”
Good question. Then what would he do? Claim her like a stray cat or dog? Live years believing everything was fine, that his and Katie’s lives were perfect, only one day to have their rug jerked out from under them?
Just a week ago he might’ve said no, he wasn’t willing to put either himself or Katie through that kind of possible hurt, but now… his bond with Angel had reached the point where he had to consider her feelings. She was far too precious to put through a single second’s pain.
“Jonah?” She searched his expression.
“We’ll know.”
“How?” She wrinkled her forehead. “I mean, will you set a deadline? Like, say, if my memory doesn’t return in a month, then will you agree to blow off everything the doctor said?”
“A month, huh?” Hands in his pockets, he turned his back on her to take in the lush fields and hills he’d spent his whole life viewing but never truly seeing. Being with Angel changed everything for the better. Whether it was washing dishes, changing diapers or sharing something as simple as the springtime view, she made life worth living.
She transformed mountains into verdant ridges of green so vivid they registered deep purple and lavender, and a hundred shades in between. Today, with the air crystalline-clear, he felt as if, with her hand in his, he could see forever. Some days these mountains were cloaked in fog, or snow, or raging thunderheads. But always he knew they were there, just like he knew that, no matter how hard he could try getting Angel out of his system, there was no way she’d go.
Like Blue Moon itself, she’d become a part of him.
No matter if her rightful husband, along with a half-dozen babies, claimed her tomorrow, he’d still love her.
Just like these mountains couldn’t be moved, neither could his country boy’s heart.
Jonah pulled Angel in for another hug. How long was a man legally, but most of all morally, supposed to wait to declare himself heir-apparent to another man’s wife?
“Yeah,” he said, his voice unexpectedly coarse with emotion. “I guess a month sounds about right.” When she pulled back her eyes shimmered again, but this time he hoped with happiness.
Her kiss-swollen lips parted in a wide grin, making her expression way brighter than the sun. “You’re sure? I can start planning for our second wedding?”
For no other reason than, financially, he wasn’t capable of supporting Angel the way she should be, he should’ve stalled. But after all she’d been through—after all they’d been through—he couldn’t bear to ever again lose sight of her smile.
“Absolutely…” He brushed her sweet, salty lips with his. “A month and a fe
w days—but don’t go tellin’ everyone just yet.”
“Why not?”
Because I want to do some investigating of my own. At the moment I might not care for Sam, but he’s always been a damn good cop. Conscientious to a fault, always getting his man, whether it be a shoplifter or the town’s only murderer. If after both of them tried digging up Angel’s past and failed, then maybe she was heaven-sent.
And maybe, seeing how she’d already cured Katie and was well on her way to giving the diner its first successful week in over a year, she’d been meant to fix that, too.
“I’m waiting,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him again. “Don’t you know it’s rude to keep both your past and future bride waiting?”
“I know,” he said. “Color me bad.”
“Jonah McBride,” she cupped his latest erection, “even without a memory, I know full well you’ve never been bad at anything.”
Chapter Thirty
Wednesday morning, Jonah glanced through the diner’s kitchen pass-through, falling more in love with his beautiful wife every minute—so much so that he kept forgetting the part about her being his pretend wife.
She crooned a song about love and yearning to Randy, the UPS guy, and damned if he didn’t look like he was about to ruin his soup with drool.
Jonah’s eyes welled with pride.
She’s mine. This one-of-a-kind miracle woman is all mine.
Well… almost.
Angel chose June fifteenth as their wedding day. She’d wanted it earlier, but ultimately decided that it was the perfect day to become a bride.
Just thinking about the hole he was daily digging deeper had Jonah alternating between beyond-belief-happy and downright ill.
What had he done? Without knowing the truth about Angel, he couldn’t marry her. How would they even get a license?
He had a home computer, but over a year earlier he’d canceled his Internet connection to save money. Knowing online would be the first logical place to start researching her, he took Tuesday afternoon off under the guise of making a supply run to Harrison. Leaving Leon on his own to work with Angel and Pauline felt strange, but he was doing it not by choice but necessity.
He’d made Angel a promise he intended to keep. If she wanted to be a June bride, then, by God, she would.
Unfortunately, a two-hour search using the Harrison Public Library’s computer netted him diddly, other than adding one more question to the dozens already floating through his head. How much did a guy have to shell out for a forged wedding license?
Wednesday night, Esther led the crowd of seniors she’d invited for dinner at the diner in a boisterous round of applause.
Angel had just serenaded them with the prettiest a cappella rendition of Patsy Cline’s Crazy that Esther had ever heard—outside of hearing it sung by the great Ms. Cline herself on a long-ago visit to the Grand Ol Opry.
Wearing one of the dresses she’d bought for a quarter at a yard sale and then transformed into a full-fledged, form-fitting evening gown, Angel looked, sounded and performed like a real live star.
Gerald Jorgenson actually had tears in his eyes. “You weren’t kiddin’, Esther. She’s good.”
Esther snorted. “’Course she’s good. Think I’d be springin’ for y’all’s dinners if she wasn’t? Help me get the word out that Jonah’s place might cost a little more than the senior citizen center, but the entertainment’s much better than all those same old wacky oldies hits Emily keeps playin’. Shoot, if I wanted to hear Martians beep-beeping, all I’d have to do is double up on laxative.” Emily was the senior center’s head honcho. Nice girl, but she had no taste when it came to tunes.
Just as his wife launched into a new number he didn’t know the name of, Jonah pushed through the kitchen door, jockeying his way through the golden-age crowd to give Esther a quick hug. “Thanks,” he whispered in her good ear.
“Thank you,” she whispered back. “Angel’s a real keeper. Guess you knew that from the start, though, didn’t you?”
He shrugged, not missing the sparkle in her pale blue eyes and hoping like hell she couldn’t see the wet shine he knew must be in his own.
At times like this, with Katie cooing on one of her adopted great-grandmothers’ laps, Angel singing up a storm, the diner filled to near-capacity with both strangers and friends, he couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest man in the world. He hadn’t just dodged one bullet with Katie’s health but another with the diner. The more time went on, the more he was suspecting—hoping—he’d dodged yet another with his soon-to-be-real wife.
What if not only were things looking up for the diner but the rest of the town? What if an antiques dealer rented the empty building beside his, and that business attracted more people? If even more shops followed, before too long, Blue Moon would be transformed from a forgotten place in time into a vibrant tourist destination. The kind of place with bed-and-breakfasts and Main Street traffic jams and an always-bustling old-time restaurant called the Blue Moon Diner.
Life just kept getting better. Angel—his Angel—shone at the heart of everything good.
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Covering the phone’s mouthpiece, Sam rolled over, stealing a glance at his bedside clock. Just past three in the morning. He rubbed sleep from his eyes before saying, “No, Frank, you did the right thing. I’ll be right down.”
Fifteen minutes later Sam stood on Main Street beside Frank Churchill, Blue Moon’s fire chief. What a year earlier had been Sweet Treat Bakery—seven doors down from Jonah’s diner—had burned to the ground. While the main structure was brick, the supporting interior was constructed of well over hundred-year-old dry oak timbers that’d lit up like tissue paper. The surrounding wing wall crumbled, leaving a jagged pile of still smoldering brick.
Sam’s nostrils flared at the acrid sweet smell. “What do you make of this?”
Hands on his hips, watching his crew douse the charred remains, Frank shook his head. “No way to tell till we get all this cooled down. By the time we were called in, it was already too late to save the structure.”
“Who made the call?”
“Callie Cook. Says the only way to get that new baby of hers to sleep is drivin’ it around. She got us on her cell. Lucky it was a calm night. If there’d been even a breath of wind, we’d have lost the whole damn block.”
Never having been prone to pussyfooting around, Sam asked straight out, “Arson?”
Frank sighed. “Off the record. This being number four in just under as many weeks, that’d be my guess. But who knows?”
“Yeah.” Lately that phrase summed up a lot in his life. Who knew who was systematically burning their way through Blue Moon’s historic downtown? Who knew what was going on with his computer, phone and email? Who knew if Angel was friend or foe?
Back to the fires, Sam had his short list of suspects. A few disgruntled teens, Cecil, or maybe they’d all been accidentally caused by itinerant bums. At this point everyone in town was suspect, from the Boy Mayor to Jonah’s new lady.
“If this don’t beat all.” Leon stood on the sidewalk in front of the diner, surveying the too-close-for-comfort damage. “And just last night the wife told me Josie Duncan had rented the place to Mary Alice King. Said she was gonna open a flower shop.”
“Would’ve been nice,” Jonah said, incapable of even imagining the heat that must’ve been generated to take out such a sturdy brick building.
An early morning thunderstorm might’ve cooled any leftover hot coals, but the steamy air only intensified the charred-sweet smell. Even inside the diner the stench was inescapable.
“How awful,” Angel said, stepping out of the diner’s door. “It’s even worse than it seemed when we drove past in the truck.”
“You get Lizzy changed?” Jonah asked.
“Yeah, she’s in her playpen. Pauline is with her, assembling silverware and napkin rolls.”
Jonah nodded, slipping his arm about Angel’s shoulders.
Why? Just when everything for once seemed to be looking up, did something like this happen? Had it only been the night before that not only his future, but the town’s looked bright?
“You okay?” Angel asked.
“Truthfully? I don’t know.”
Leon said, “Let’s get on inside. Folks’ll be linin’ up soon to hear their angel sing ’em through breakfast.”
“You go on,” Angel said. “We’ll be right in.”
With Leon out of earshot in the kitchen, Angel said, “Tell me what’s going on in that handsome head of yours.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’ve lived in this town all my life.”
“Okay, so?”
“So, I find it a little odd that all in the same month four buildings that’ve been here since—since, hell, even before Esther was born, should burst into flames.”
“I thought they proved the first one was arson.”
“They did.”
“And the others were what? Spontaneous combustion?”
“Supposedly.”
“So you’re thinking this one wasn’t accidental?”
Shrugging, he said, “I don’t know what I’m thinking. Just seems odd. I mean, if it is arson, why would anyone even bother taking these old buildings out?”
“After you,” Jonah said late that night, unlocking the house’s back door, then pushing it open, gesturing for Angel to step through.
“Such a gentleman,” she teased, holding sleeping Katie tucked against her chest.
“I try.”
She blew him a kiss.
Once inside, he flicked on a few lights. The house’s peace came as a welcome break after the frenzied pace of the diner.
He was out of practice.
He’d been sure the fire would keep people away but, in supposing that, he’d underestimated his Angel. The place had been packed. Maybe folks were there to hear his wife. Others, to pay their respects to a dying downtown. Whatever the reason, he’d run out of both chocolate cream pie and meat loaf.
Angel Baby (Heaven Can Wait) Page 19
