Touched by Angels

by Peggy Webb

  "Mr. Freeman . . . what in the world brings you up here? Is something wrong with our box downstairs?"

  "No. Nothing like that." He cleared his throat and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "This is highly irregular . . . but she's such a nice little lady."

  "She?" Jake turned toward the postman, fully alert.

  "Ms. Love." Jake ached at the sound of her name. There was no escape. Wherever he was, there would always be reminders of what he had done.

  "Sarah Love?" he asked.

  "Yes, that sweet little woman on the other side of town. She asked me for a favor . . . and . . . well, I just couldn't turn her down."

  "Is she in trouble?" The protective instinct propelled Jake across the room.

  "No. Nothing like that. She asked me to bring this to you . . . along with the mail . . . and . . . well, I guess there's no harm."

  "None at all." Jake took the package. "Thank you, Mr. Freeman."

  "Well. See y'all." The postman tipped his hat and left.

  After the door had closed behind him, Jake glared at Gwendolyn.

  "Don't say a word."

  "Who me?" She gathered her coffee cup and headed for the door. "I was just leaving."

  Jake waited until she had gone to open the package. His raincoat was inside . . . and the blue dress. Sarah's fragrance wafted up from the box.

  Jake clutched the box so hard, the sides began to cave in. Her note lay against the folds of the coat, accusing him. He stared at it a long time, unable to pick it up.

  Slowly he laid the box aside and opened the note. It was handwritten.

  "Dear Jake," it began. He closed his eyes, remembering the sound of her voice. Jake . . . my dear, my hero, my love.

  He had to sit down. Bowing his head over the note, he closed his eyes. Love shouldn't hurt so much.

  Finally he drew a deep breath and continued reading.

  "I don't mean to seem ungrateful, but I'm returning the dress along with your coat. After what happened, it doesn't seem right to keep it."

  "Sarah . . . Sarah," he whispered, remembering her in the blue dress. Her name echoed in the room like a soft summer breeze.

  The chill of loss swept through him. Jake stared at the window, seeing nothing and remembering everything. Doubts crowded into his mind. How could he live, knowing he loved Sarah and could never have her?

  "She's safe," he whispered. "At least now she's safe from me."

  He turned his attention back to the note. "Please don't feel bad about what happened." How like Sarah to think of the other person. "I share the blame. I'm an adult, fully capable of making my own choices. I chose to be with you, Jake. Don't ever forget that. I chose to."

  How could she have refused? He had practically dragged her up the steps before he'd even asked.

  She had signed the note simply "Sarah." He traced the letters with his fingers. It was almost like touching her. Her essence seemed to be distilled in the note.

  He folded the note carefully, put it in the left-hand drawer of his desk, and turned the key. Sarah was now locked away with his other memorabilia—a heart-shaped locket that had been Bonnie's, a locket that contained a strand of her dark hair.

  He buzzed for Gwendolyn. "We have work to do, or have you forgotten that this is an office?"

  Gwendolyn came in scowling. "I could run this company without you, Jake, and with one hand tied behind my back in the bargain. And don’t you forget that."

  Jake held on to the hope that things would soon get back to normal.

  Chapter Eight

  That hope was dashed two days later when Sarah's second message arrived. The envelope was at the bottom of the stack. He tore into it, and out fell a crisp twenty-dollar bill.

  Clutching it in his hand, he read the note attached. "This is partial payment for mowing the yard. I’ll send the rest later, as well as payment for repairing the steps. Sarah. P.S. Where shall I send the swing?"

  Fury blocked everything from his vision except the money. He ripped it in half and threw it onto his desk. Then he stalked from his office.

  Gwendolyn looked up when he passed her desk.

  "Did somebody forget to tell me we're being attacked by a herd of crazy, rabid elephants, or is that just the normal face you use to scare old ladies into heart attacks?"

  "What?" He glared down at her.

  "Now that I have your attention . . ."She stood up and faced him nose to nose. "I saw the return address on that letter, and I can guess where you're going."

  "Don't. It's none of your affair."

  "When I'm about to get stuck with Mr. Wonderful from Deltafax, it is. He's coming in about ten minutes, Jake, and unless you want to come back and find him dead on this carpet, you'd better get back in that office."

  "Dead?" Jake was finally getting back under control.

  "Every time he has to wait for you, he chases me around my desk pawing at my fabulous body. I'm not up to that today. I have in mind killing him with the blunt end of the letter opener."

  Jake didn't try to suppress his laughter. It felt good.

  "Hark! What is that strange noise I hear?" Gwendolyn clutched her chest in mock terror. "Can it be? Is it? It is! Laughter from Mr. Gloom and Doom himself."

  "All right, Gwendolyn." Jake stifled his laughter and pretended outrage. "You've proved your point." He headed back to his office, calling over his shoulder, "I'll keep my appointment with Mr. Wonderful, but the next time you interfere with me, prepare to pay the consequences."

  "I'm quaking in my boots."

  o0o

  Sarah was worried about sending Jake the money. It seemed so cold. And yet. under the circumstances, what could she do?

  Fortunately she didn't have time to brood over the matter. The citizens of Florence had discovered her doll shop, and customers filtered in and out. Between making and selling her dolls, plus taking care of Jenny, she hardly had a moment to brood.

  Except at night. The nights were bad.

  Her shop bell rang, and two customers came through the door.

  "Yahoo ..." A woman who looked like the fairy godmother in Jenny's Cinderella book, stuck her head around the door. "Is this the Dollhouse?"

  "Yes, It is."

  The woman pulled her head back and said to her companion, "This is it, Dora Mae. Come on in . . . and stop fussing. It was just a little old lizard." The white-haired woman came into the shop, laughing. "A lizard ran over Dora Mae's foot out there in your yard, and you'd have thought it was a dragon." She paused, looking around the shop. "My, my, it looks like Santa's workshop in here."

  Dora Mae came in behind her companion, a short skinny woman who walked with a strange gait and constantly peered over her shoulder as if she were looking for goblins.

  "Come on in here, Dora Mae, and say hello to this nice lady."

  Dora Mae turned to smile, and Sarah's heart stopped. She was looking into the face of a very special woman, a woman with Down's syndrome.

  Her companion bustled forward. "Hi, I'm Montgomery ... I know it's a crazy name for a lady . . . makes me sound like a boxer . . . and this is my sister, Dora Mae."

  Sarah took Dora Mae's hand between both of hers. "I'm so glad to meet you. My name is Sarah Love."

  "I want a doll," Dora Mae said. "A pretty doll for my bed."

  "Well find something very special for you." Sarah blinked back tears and led the woman to her doll shelves. "Why don't we start here? If you don't find something you like, tell me, and I’ll make one to your specifications."

  Dora Mae loved all the dolls. She picked up each one and cradled it like a child. Sarah stood patiently beside her, explaining how each doll came into being.

  The shop bell tinkled. Sarah looked toward the door and straight into the eyes of Jake Townsend. Seeing him revived all the memories she was trying to bury, all the passion she was trying to deny.

  He stood just inside the door, frozen there as if time had suddenly come to a halt. His face was closed and dark, but it was his eyes that held her a
ttention longest. They were very bright and alive with emotion.

  Sarah pressed the doll she was holding against her chest. She was speechless, and, apparently, so was he. They stood for a long moment, regarding each other; then he closed the door and slipped into the shop. He came toward her, but stopped on the opposite side of the doll shelves.

  Beside her, Dora Mae and Montgomery chattered about the dolls. Sarah nodded and smiled, pretending to be interested, but she didn't hear a word they said. Her mind was full of Jake.

  Why had he come back? Memories of the last time they were together flooded over her. She could almost taste his mouth, hear his voice as he told her she was exquisite. Desire made her skin tingle.

  She stared between the shelves. A large portion of his chest and the bottom half of his face were in her line of vision. She concentrated on his lips, on their shape, their remembered texture.

  If she leaned down toward Dora Mae and slanted her eyes sideways, she realized she could see all of Jake's face. Up this close, his eyes were startlingly green. She forgot to breathe as she studied his face.

  Suddenly she found him staring back at her. She straightened quickly and turned back to her customers. Her blood raced so hard, she could hear it roaring in her ears.She wondered if she was going to faint. Wouldn't that be ridiculous? Chin up. Sarah, she chided herself. She was not the fainting type, and she wasn't about to start now.

  “I like this one."

  "What?" Sarah said.

  Montgomery handed her a doll. "My sister likes this one."

  "I'm so glad. Ill put it in a box for her."

  Dora Mae hugged the doll and watched her sister.

  "Can she just carry it out like that?" Montgomery asked.

  "Certainly." Sarah headed toward the front of her shop, where she had set up a small desk and her account books.

  She had to pass by Jake. Although she scrupulously avoided looking his way, she could feel his gaze on her. She held her back very straight. It's over, she told herself all the way to her desk.

  But the minute she turned around and saw him, she knew she was lying. Maybe she would never be in his arms again, never feel his touch, never hear him whisper her name, but what they had shared was not over, would never be over. Not as long as she had breath in her body and a store of memories in her mind.

  Her hands shook as she took Montgomery's money. "Thank you," she said. "Please do come again."

  "Why, we certainly will. Dora Mae just loves this shop. Do you mind if we just come to look?"

  "Of course not." The back of Sarah's neck prickled. She dared not look across the room at Jake.

  The sisters left with their doll, and Sarah bent over her account book. She had to record her sale, and she took her time doing it.

  "You have to look up sometime, Sarah." There was a tenderness in his voice that almost undid her.

  Slowly she lifted her gaze to his. "Hello, Jake."

  "Hello, Sarah."

  Neither of them moved. The dolls watched them with painted eyes. Sarah wondered if they noticed how much like a hero Jake looked.

  "You look good," he finally said.

  "So do you." She held on to her pen as if it were a life raft and she were about to sink to the bottom of the ocean. They watched each other silently until Sarah could no longer stand the suspense. "Why did you come?"

  "This." In three strides he was across the room, standing in front of her desk. He pulled a twenty- dollar bill from his pocket and laid it on her desk.

  "That's for mowing the lawn," she said.

  "Money can’t buy my services, Sarah." His eyes held hers.

  "I never meant to insult you, Jake, nor to shame you."

  "You did neither. You made a mistake."

  She had made a number of mistakes. Her first was letting Jake into her life; her second was letting him into her heart.

  "I merely wanted you to understand that I'm independent. I can take care of myself and Jenny."

  "Not by paying me, you won’t. Everything I gave you is yours to keep, Sarah."

  "I can’t."

  "You will." He leaned across the desk and caught her shoulders. Her insides melted at his touch, but she didn't let him know.

  She brought her chin up defiantly.

  "Don't push this issue, Jake. My mind is made up."

  "You can send all the money you want, Sarah. Send it by the postman, send it in the mail, send it by carrier pigeon if you like." He leaned closer, so close his breath stirred her hair and caressed her cheek. "You'll just be wasting your time." He tightened his hold on her. "I’ll return it all ... in person."

  He captured her in a fierce stare. She bit the inside of her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. Jake was angry, but it wasn’t rage that made her tremble: It was desire. Passion welled up so quickly in her, she wanted to scream.

  He saw what was happening. The light of recognition leaped to life in the center of his eyes. Sarah's heart thudded and her knees trembled. Suddenly there didn't seem to be enough air in the room. She thought she might smother.

  Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath.

  "Sarah?" The tenderness in Jake's voice made her open her eyes. His hold on her changed to a caress. "Sarah . . ."He brushed his mouth across hers.

  All her hard-earned control vanished. All her resolutions fell by the wayside. How could she resist him?

  She circled her arms around his waist and drew him close. He tangled his hands in her hair. She tipped her face up to him, and he gazed down at her. They stood that way for an eternity.

  When her nerves were tingling so hard she thought she might snap In two, Jake kissed her. There was such tenderness and longing in his kiss that she almost forgot who she was, who Jake was. They were two wounded people who didn’t belong together, who could never be together.

  But, oh, loving him felt so good. She thought she would just hang on a little while longer.

  Jenny filled her life with love, but nothing could take the place of the exquisite bond between a man and a woman who found each other special. And she did find Jake special; she found him extraordinary. Like all people, he was flawed; but his flaws only made him human.

  She guessed she was selfish. But she was going to seize the moment, and then put him out of her life.

  He kissed her until kissing wasn’t enough—for either of them. She slid her hands down his back and tugged at his shirt. Underneath, his skin was hard and smooth and warm. He worked her skirt upward until he could put his hand on the soft smooth skin between her garter belt and her hose.

  "Sarah . . . you bewitch me."

  "Jake . . ."

  Neither of them was capable of stopping. Jake worked the buttons of her blouse loose. She pulled him close as he explored her with his hands and mouth.

  It was almost as if she had become someone else, as if she were standing in awe, watching another Sarah steal love with a dark and forbidden man. She knew she should stop, had to stop. Soon. But not now.

  Sarah let her emotions run free. With Jake's mouth upon her she was floating, soaring through the hot summer sunshine that poured through the window. Her shop became a thing of beauty, a paradise created especially for this man and this moment. Mercifully the shop bell didn't tinkle, for Sarah was incapable of stopping what she was doing.

  Sounds filtered through her consciousness, sounds that seemed to come from far off. Finally she realized they were coming from her. She was murmuring Jake's name, over and over.

  The sweet torment of wanting him was so sharp she arched against him. calling out to him. Slowly he lifted his head and looked at her.

  "Sarah."

  She didn't want to leave her dream world. Closing her eyes, she fought going back.

  "What have I done?" Jake's agonized voice brought her quickly back to reality.

  He closed her blouse and began to fasten her buttons.

  "I'm sorry, Sarah. I didn't mean for this to happen."

  "Dont apologize . . . please. "

>   She pushed his hands away and angled her shoulders to block his vision. Her face burned. She wished the floor would open up and swallow her.

  Why didn't he say something? Why didn't he move? He was standing so close, she could feel his body heat. She was burning up. It felt as if the sun had turned into a fireball and lodged itself in her body.

  She bent over her buttons, letting her hair swing down to hide her face.

  "Sarah . . . Please look at me." She kept her attention on her buttons. Jake reached for her. With a finger on her chin, he tipped her face toward his. "Somehow you've gotten into my heart, Sarah. Every time I see you I want to touch you, to hold you, to make love to you."

  "It's the same with me." She gave him a brave smile. "Crazy, isn't it?"

  "Crazy . . . and very sad. I can't keep doing this to you. There's no future for us."

  "I know."

  He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. His face was haunted.

  "When I hear your name, I go crazy inside," he said.

  "You should live with a dog named Jake." Her smile got shaky. "Every time Jenny calls the puppy I think of that wonderful day you gave it to her."

  "How's Jenny?"

  "She's napping right now. . . .She misses you."

  "1’ll come back ... to see her."

  "Yes, to see Jenny. But not"—she paused, waving her hand helplessly In the air— "this, Jake. Not this emotional roller coaster."

  "I won't touch you again." He gave her a rueful smile. "If you promise to quit sending me money."

  "Is this blackmail?"

  "Whatever works for us."

  Sarah smoothed her skirt and fussed with her hair. "You win," she said finally. "No more money."

  They faced each other, the passion still fresh between them.

  "I should be going."

  "I suppose."

  He gazed around the shop. "You've done a good job here, Sarah."

  "Thank you."

  Still, he didn’t leave. In spite of everything, Sarah didn’t want him to.

  "Would you like to say hello to Jenny?"

  "Could I?"

  "Yes. It's time for me to wake her from her nap."