by Tori Scott
He'd left a week later and by the time she saw him again, she was no longer pregnant and no longer the girl she'd once been.
He'd sent letters, cards, even Christmas gifts, but she'd returned them all. She didn't deserve them or want them.
The sun glinted off the surface of the lake, blinding her. She turned away, blaming the sun for the tears now running down her face. She wasn't crying for what she'd lost or what she'd never had. Really, she was so over that.
She could even be around Mitch now for a few minutes at a time without losing her sanity. But there was no way in hell she could handle Eric’s kids being in the wedding. She couldn't see Eric living a normal life with a family after leaving her to fend for herself. She couldn't face the censor on his wife's face when she realized who Angel was. Or had Eric even told her he had another son out there somewhere? And she could not risk her friends and family finding out he was her son's father.
She had to find a way out. The anxiety began to claw at her, making her breath come in short, choppy gasps. She tried to take a deep breath, but she choked instead and started to cough. Sweat broke out on her brow and her heart rate went sky high. When the chest pain started, she was sure this time it was a heart attack.
She dug in her purse for her pills before she remembered she'd left them at home. She hadn't planned to be gone long, and she wasn't expecting to see Mitch, so she'd thought she'd be safe.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
***
Mitch came out of the dive shop, Gray at his side, both of them loaded down with tanks, BC's, regulators, and weight belts. Mitch hit the remote control to unlock his SUV, lifted the tailgate, and tossed his gear inside. When he stepped back to let Gray stow his gear, he saw a small crowd gathering on the sidewalk down the street. "I wonder what's going on?" he said.
Someone shouted for a doctor and he grabbed his kit from the vehicle and took off running. Gray closed the tailgate and followed.
Mitch tried to think what kind of medical equipment he had in the truck today. If someone was having a heart attack, he wasn't going to be much help. His full kit was in his car, which he'd left at home.
The crowd parted as he pushed his way through. He thought he was prepared for just about anything. But he wasn't prepared to see Angel sprawled across the concrete, her skin clammy, her breathing ragged. "What happened?" he asked of no one in particular.
A woman at the edge of the group said, "I saw her looking out over the lake, then she just turned around suddenly and started coughing. Then she fainted. She may have hit her head when she fell. I didn't see how she landed."
Gray stuck his head into the circle of faces. "What do you need?"
Mitch waited until he'd finished checking her heart rate before he answered. "I have a small portable oxygen tank under the back seat. Get me that and a blanket."
When Gray returned with the oxygen tank, Mitch slipped a cannula over her head and set the oxygen flow rate. He pulled the stethoscope from his bag and listened to her heart and lungs. Both sounded clear. "Did something scare her? Anyone bothering her?"
The woman shook her head. "No, she was all alone. She looked incredibly sad, though."
Angel's eyes blinked open, her gaze unfocused at first.
"Just be still, Angel. Try to breathe a little slower."
"Mitch? What are you doing here? How did you find me?" She tried to pull the cannula away, but he grabbed both her hands and held them.
"I didn't. We just came out of a shop down the street and heard someone calling for a doctor." He could see color returning to her cheeks and her breathing had already slowed. "Okay, no talking for a few minutes. Just breathe." Mitch checked her pupils, then pulled a blood pressure cuff from his bag and wrapped it around her arm.
Her eyes never left his face, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"What?" Mitch removed the cuff, satisfied with her blood pressure.
"You’re a doctor?"
"Yeah. You didn't know that? How could you not know?"
Her cheeks flushed and she looked away.
"You never bothered to ask, right?" Why was he surprised? She'd never wanted to know anything about him, about his life. But he'd assumed she would have heard from someone, might have seen his graduation announcement in the paper. Something.
"I'm sorry."
Mitch rocked back on his heels. "Well, you're full of surprises today." An apology from Angel was one of the last things he'd ever thought he'd hear.
He reached his hand out and she slid hers into it. "Think you're ready to sit up?"
Angel nodded and he pulled her gently forward until she was upright. The crowd, no longer interested since she seemed in no danger of dying, had drifted away. "Want to tell me what happened?"
"Panic attack." She looked away, then back again. "I get them sometimes. I forgot to take my medication this morning."
"I suppose it would be too much to ask you to make an appointment with my office on Monday and come in for a checkup?"
Her chin came up and her gaze locked on his. "Not a damned chance."
Mitch sighed. Why did everything have to be such a battle with her? "Have you talked to a psychologist about these attacks?"
"No. Just my family doctor."
He pulled a business card out of his wallet, wrote a name and number on the back, and handed it to her. "Think about making an appointment with Vanessa. I think you'll find her particularly understanding. She's been in your shoes." He stood and held out his hand. "Come on. We'll give you a ride home."
CHAPTER THREE
Angel turned the card over and looked at the name for the tenth time. It was a pretty name. Too pretty for a psychologist. Vanessa Dean sounded more like the name of an actress or a singer. So how did Mitch know her? One of his girlfriends? Or just a colleague?
She put the card back on her desk and tried to concentrate on the retouching she needed to finish. The wedding album was due to the newlyweds in just two weeks and if she didn't hurry, she'd miss the deadline.
Six hours later, the touch ups were complete and the pictures on their way to the lab. Angel stood and stretched, then winced when various bruises and sore muscles from the fall made their presence known. At least she'd managed not to slam her head into the concrete.
She wandered down the stairs to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she'd had very little to eat all day. Nothing looked appealing, but she needed to eat so she settled for tortilla chips and salsa. She carried them into the den where her mother was watching Extreme Makeover.
Angel wished she could ask her mother to change the channel. The show made her sad, even though she was happy for the families who deserved the new homes. But so many of them had lost so much--a family member, a home to a fire, children with serious diseases or disabilities. Those were the ones who got to her the most. But her mother loved the show and wouldn't miss a moment.
She thought about going back upstairs, but she needed a change of scenery so she settled on the couch and propped her feet on the coffee table. At least the star of the show was easy to look at. He reminded her a little bit of Mitch.
Mitch. Who would have thought he was a doctor? And why hadn't she ever bothered to ask what he did for a living? Because she didn't want to know any more about him than absolutely necessary. The less she knew, the easier it was to ignore him. She shouldn't be too surprised, though. He was always trying to fix things. And people. Especially her.
A laughing group of kids on the television drew her attention. As she listened, she forgot all about the chips and salsa. The family chosen for this week's makeover was an eclectic group of adopted children, ranging in ages from three to seventeen. Seven children in all. The parents seemed to genuinely love each and every one, hugging easily, ruffling their hair as they talked about the need for additional bedrooms as their family grew.
As she watched, she could see how happy and well-adjusted the children were. They were good students, athletes
, popular at school, comfortable in their place in the family. They all seemed to love and respect their parents.
The oldest boy captured her attention. Clean cut and handsome, he talked about his desire to go to college so he could become a doctor. He hoped to adopt children of his own someday so that other children could have as happy a home as he had.
Angel caught her mother watching her before Anna quickly turned back to the television.
Okay, so there was one family out there who had given adopted children a happy home. That still didn't mean her son had found the same thing.
***
Mitch closed the door behind the last patient of the day and returned to his desk to check his email. He'd sent out some inquiries about his nephew's adoption and he was anxious to see if there had been any response. But other than patient-related information, nothing new had come in during the day.
He knew he was taking a huge risk. His brother would probably never speak to him again, and he wasn't too sure Angel would appreciate his interference, either. But he'd started this quest several years earlier and he couldn't seem to give it up. He'd placed contact info on a number of different sites, with no results.
He really only wanted to know the boy was in good hands, that he was happy and healthy, so he could put Angel's mind at ease and maybe help her to finally forgive herself for giving him up. And he had to admit he was curious, too. Did the boy look like Eric, or did he favor Angel? Was he smart, did he like sports, was he a good kid or in trouble? Did he need anything? And as a doctor, he wanted to know if the child had any medical problems.
After seeing Angel collapsed on the ground from an anxiety attack, he was even more determined to find her son. Maybe it was time to take the next step.
The phone rang and Mitch thought about not answering. It was after office hours, and he should already be gone. The service would let him know if it was an emergency. But what if it was Angel? He snatched up the receiver. "Dr. Turner."
"Dr. Turner, this is Dr. Dean."
"Vanessa. How are you?"
"I'm good, Mitch. You asked me to let you know if Angel Kensington made an appointment. She called just before the office closed and is coming to see me on Friday."
Mitch breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much for calling." Finally. If Angel followed through with this, then maybe, just maybe, there was hope for her after all.
***
"Hey, we're going bowling Friday night. Do you want to come along?" Cara tossed the shoe catalog on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch. "I need a break from wedding stuff. I don't think I'm ever going to find the right shoes."
Angel shook her head. "No, I have something planned Friday afternoon and I don't know how long it will take."
"A photography something or a date something?" Cara asked.
"Neither. An appointment." She hesitated, not sure she should tell Cara what she was doing. But she needed to tell someone, and Cara had been right when she'd said Angel needed help. "Actually, I have an appointment with a psychologist."
"Really? Oh, thank God!" Cara's smile lit up her whole face. "You've suffered for way too long. I'm so glad you're getting some help."
"Yeah, well, how much help she'll be remains to be seen, but you're right. I should have done this years ago. But when we were teenagers, no one went to a psychologist except vain housewives or really crazy people, you know? We were just expected to put on our big girl panties and deal with it."
"Yeah, you're right. And I should have encouraged you to do it a long time ago, but I never realized just how bad things were for you until lately. We haven't exactly spent a lot of time together these last few years."
"I know, and that's mostly my fault. I just felt like everyone I met knew what I'd done and they were judging me for it. I know that's stupid. Only a few people had any idea." Angel twisted her hands together. "That sounds silly now. But it was a very real phobia for me and I'm only now learning to deal with it."
Cara moved to sit by Angel and took her hand. "You know none of us thought any less of you. I always thought giving him up for adoption was a very brave and selfless thing to do."
Angel brushed a tear away. "Really?"
"Really. Now tell me who you're seeing and how you found them."
"Her name is Dr. Vanessa Dean and Mitch recommended her." Angel pulled the card out of her pocket. "She has an office downtown."
Cara took the card, looking at the front first before turning it over. "If Mitch recommended her, she must be good."
"Why didn't you tell me Mitch was a doctor? I felt like such an idiot when I found out."
"You didn't know?" Cara looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "How could you not know?"
Angel shrugged. "I guess I didn't want to know. I never asked."
"But I know Gray's mentioned it, and I'm pretty sure I have."
"It doesn't matter. I'm not going to be one of his patients."
"I'm not one, either. It would be too weird to go to Gray's cousin for an exam. I'm sure he understands that." Cara handed the card back to Angel. "How long have you been seeing her?"
"A month. Ever since I had that panic attack at the park. I knew I couldn't keep living like this. She's really nice, and the best part is, she understands. She gave a child up for adoption, too. That's the main reason she got into psychology in the first place. As a way to deal with it."
"She sounds perfect." Cara hugged Angel. "I'm so proud of you!"
Angel took a deep breath and smiled. "I'm kind of proud of me, too. I'm making progress. I still have a ways to go, but I haven't had a panic attack in two weeks and the idea of seeing Mitch doesn't bring one on, so maybe I'll be able to handle a week on the mountain when the time comes."
"I hope so, sweetie. The last thing I want to do is cause you more pain. But the week up there will be magical. It's going to be so much fun."
Fun was something almost foreign to Angel. She felt like she didn't deserve to have any, avoided circumstances where she might actually have fun. That was supposed to be one of the things they addressed on Friday. How she could stop punishing herself for something she really hadn't been able to control in the first place. How to deal with the shame she felt, when there was nothing to be ashamed of. She'd done what was best for her child.
"You know what? Maybe I will go bowling with y'all after all, if that's okay. My appointment is over at five."
"That would be great. We aren't going until six, anyway. But Angel, I have to tell you. Mitch is coming, too."
Mitch. Could she do it? She hadn't seen him since she started therapy. And it wasn't Mitch who was the real problem. He looked too much like Eric, and she still held a lot of resentment toward Eric and his parents. They'd said some pretty ugly things back then, had threatened to come up with other boys who'd say she'd had sex with them if she tried to press the paternity issue. But like Dr. Dean said, people tend to get very emotional in circumstances like that and say things they don't mean and wouldn't normally say.
It was possible they'd all grown up since then. And Mitch wasn't Eric. That's one thing she had managed to come to terms with over the last month. "Well, I can't promise how long I'll stay, but I will try. I need to confront this head on, so I might as well get started."
"You sure?" Cara held her breath, praying Angel wouldn't change her mind.
"Absolutely."
"How about we make a day of it? Go to lunch, shop for shoes, you can go to your appointment, then we'll go bowling. Might make it easier if you ease into it."
"That sounds like fun. Reggie too? I really like her. In fact, I like all of your friends. And you--you're pretty okay for a kid sister."
***
Angel tried on yet another pair of shoes, this one a sling-back sandal. "You know what the problem is with these shoes?"
"What?" Cara winced when she stood in the impossibly high heel she'd just tried on. "The fact that they all kill your feet in two seconds flat?"
"Well, there
is that. But think about it. We're going to be outside. Even though there will be a carpet runner so we won't be standing in the snow, we're going to get frost bite in these things. What we need are some funky white boots with fur trim to match the jackets."
Cara grabbed her shoulders and spun her around to face her. "You, big sister, are a genius! That would be perfect. Okay, let's spread out and see what we can find."
Reggie found them first. Ankle high, with three inch heels and white fur around the top. They would be perfect with the dresses. Angel found matching gloves and ear muffs in the next department.
"That's it, right? We're all set?" Angel checked her watch, but she had plenty of time before her appointment.
"Not quite. There's one more thing, Follow me." Cara headed toward the front of the store and Reggie and Angel fell in behind her.
"Any idea what this is about?" Angel whispered to Reggie?
Reggie shrugged. "I have no clue."
Cara stopped at the jewelry department. "This next item is a gift from Gray. We are looking for the perfect set of pearls, ladies. Every woman needs a quality pearl necklace."
Finding the right one proved to be the easiest of their purchases and they were soon set with three matching necklaces.
"Now we're finished," Cara declared. "And I'm starving. This time there will be no Mitch to spoil our lunch, either."
Angel was almost disappointed. One thing therapy had done for her was to teach her how to direct her emotions where they belonged. Mitch had done nothing to deserve the treatment he'd gotten from her. He was Eric's brother, and to her he'd been guilty by association. But he'd been nothing but kind to her and had been willing to give up his scholarship and a promising future to save her from her own mistakes.
She owed him a big apology.
She didn't know if she could ever forgive his parents or Eric for the part they'd played in ruining her life, but she was learning that she was also partly responsible for letting them get away with it. Instead of running from conflict, she had to learn to stand up for herself and for what she wanted. She had to be willing to say what needed to be said, and willing to take the consequences when she did.
