Touched by Angels

by Peggy Webb

"’I’ll wait here."

  Sarah left him standing in her Dollhouse. When she was out of sight, she leaned her head against the wall. How could all her good intentions have gone so wrong? She had let Jake come into her life all for the sake of Jenny. Had she been fooling herself about her reasons all along?

  She straightened up and marched down the hall to get Jenny. It didn't matter what her reasons were. It didn’t matter what had happened. Fate had decreed her life. There was no changing fate.

  o0o

  Jake paced the Dollhouse as he waited for Jenny. Desire was still tightly coiled inside him. Until he had come back, he hadn’t realized the full extent of Sarah's hold on him. Not only was she in his mind; she was firmly entrenched in his heart.

  And he was out of control with her. Being out of control scared him. He believed that as long as he kept tight control of himself and of everything around him, nothing bad could happen.

  He braced himself, waiting for Sarah to return. This time he would maintain control.

  The door opened and Jenny propelled herself across the room and hugged his knees.

  "'ake! 'ake!" she screamed.

  "Hello, Jenny." He squatted beside her and took her in his arms. "I'm glad to see you too."

  Over the top of Jenny's head, he caught Sarah's gaze.

  Jenny leaned back and patted Jake's face.

  "Play me, 'ake?"

  "She's asking if you will play with her," Sarah said. "I’ll tell her you're too busy."

  "No. I'm not too busy for Jenny." He couldn't read Sarah's expression. "Yes, Jenny," he told the little girl. "I’ll play with you."

  "Good, good, good."

  "Her favorite spot is the swing," Sarah told him.

  "Then I’ll take her there." He lifted Jenny up and started toward the door. "Are you coming, Sarah?"

  "No. I’ll stay in the Dollhouse. Please bring her back inside when you get ready to leave."

  Jake carried Jenny outside and sat beside her on the swing.

  "Go high," she commanded.

  He set the swing in motion. Jenny squealed with delight.

  "Go high, go high," she chanted.

  Jake kept the swing going, and Jenny's laughter blended with the summer breeze. His heart contracted. He remembered another child, another summer, other laughter. Suddenly it seemed to him that his life was very sad. Fate had taken his child, and in closing himself off from agony, he had also closed himself off to joy. Hearing Jenny's laughter, seeing her little face turned up to his with love and trust, he wondered if he had made the right decision. Was love worth any risk?

  As the swing rocked back and forth on the porch, Jake swung his gaze toward the window of the Doll house. He could see Sarah's silhouette. She looked beautiful and fragile and unreachable. It seemed appropriate to him that he was seeing her behind glass.

  He stared through the window, transfixed with longing. Sarah looked up and caught his gaze. Her hand touched her lips, then she turned away.

  Loneliness descended on Jake in waves. Even with Jenny at his side, he felt as if he were cast into the midst of a dark and stormy sea. the only human being left alive on the planet.

  " 'ake?" He felt a small hand nestle into his. Jenny was staring up at him, her little brow furrowed with concern. " 'ake sad?"

  "Yes, Jenny. I'm sad."

  She leaned her head against him, and her voice was so ethereal that for a moment Jake wasn’t certain he heard her correctly. But she kept repeating the phrase, over and over.

  "Me love'ake . . . me love'ake . . . me love'ake."

  o0o

  Jenny's words haunted him for days. She hadn't considered consequences at all when she had declared her love for him. She hadn't weighed whether she might be hurt or whether he might go away and not come back. She had merely followed her heart.

  Was it innocence that allowed her to declare love so freely ... or was it wisdom?

  Jake stood at his bedroom window, gazing into the moonlit night. He felt trapped, trapped by a past that wouldn't let him go and by a love he dared not voice.

  Me love 'ake. Me love 'ake. Jenny's words whispered through his mind.

  The remembered warmth of her hand in his, tiny and trusting, stole into Jake's consciousness. Emotions he had stamped out and controlled for six years crowded in on him.

  He allowed them to come. Alive with feeling, he imagined the future he had planned for himself, and he found that future intolerable.

  He left his bedroom and went into his office downstairs. Without turning on the lights, he made his way to his desk and pulled open the center drawer. He found what he was looking for in the dark. Gripping the key in his hand, he went back up the stairs.

  It was time to say good-bye to ghosts.

  Chapter Nine

  Jake slid the key into the lock and pushed open the bedroom door. Memories came back to him in a rush.

  Look, Daddy. I can dance.

  Daddy, Daddy. Will you make my clown come out of his box? He's broked.

  I'm a cowboy, Daddy. Look!

  Read my favorite story. Daddy. The one with the little girl living happy ever after with the three bears.

  I love you best in all the world. Daddy.

  Jake closed the door and stood in the dark. Bonnie's room smelled musty and unused. He had allowed no one inside for six years. Her toys were lined up on the shelves just as she had left them. In the moonlight their faces looked real. They stared at him, but their eyes were no longer accusing.

  Jake waited for the gut-wrenching pain, the soul- blackening guilt. But neither came. Instead he felt the soft touch of memories too precious to forget.

  He switched on the lights. Bonnie's crayons lay on the table beside an open coloring book. Her favorite doll sat in the small rocking chair, its wax face fixed in a smile and its wedding gown turning yellow.

  Daddy, can I be a bride?

  Someday, sweetheart, when you grow to be a big girl.

  Bonnie would never grow up to be a bride, but Jake no longer felt guilty. An accident had taken her life away, and he had let it take his as well. But no more.

  Jake left the room, then came back armed with cleaning supplies. Far into the night he dusted and waxed and polished until Bonnie's room looked as if she had only recently slept there. Next he carted huge boxes up from the storage room. Then with great care, he packed away Bonnie's possessions—her books, her clothes, her toys, her jewelry.

  Tears stung his eyes. But they were not tears of pain: they were tears of letting go.

  By the time Jake finished his task, dawn colored the sky. He carried all the boxes downstairs and set them beside the front door. He would call the Children's Mansion to pick them up. Needy homeless children would play with Bonnie's dolls, wear her clothes, read her books—children he would never see.

  Emotionally and physically exhausted, Jake stood in his hallway with the boxes. He felt purged— cleansed and ready to live once more.

  o0o

  Sarah and Jenny were in their backyard trying to catch fireflies. Jenny's laughter pealed through the summer dusk.

  "You almost got It, Jenny. Try again." Sarah clapped and encouraged her daughter to snare a firefly with the net.

  "Want light bug. Want light bug." Jenny swept the net through the air with such force, she landed on her bottom. Poking out her lip, she said. "Bad bug, bad bug."

  "You can do it. Jenny. I know you can."

  Jake stood in the shadows of evening, watching the two of them. No longer did he feel like a thief.

  "Bad bug," Jenny said, arising majestically from her seat on the ground.

  Jake's eyes crinkled at the corners with laughter as he admired her great dignity. She puckered her brow with concentration and set her mouth in determination. Across the way he could see the spark of courage in her bright blue eyes. For the first time since he had met her, he realized they weren't Bonnie's eyes at all. They were Jenny's eyes, the eyes of a very special child.

  He moved silently across th
e yard, advancing slowly, savoring the sight of Sarah, unaware. She wore the filmy peach-color dress she had worn the first time he'd seen her in the backyard. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, blowing softly in the summer breeze. In profile he couldn't tell the shape of her lips, but he knew them from memory. And he wanted them . . . now and forever.

  "May I join this party?" he asked.

  Sarah whirled toward him, her hand over her heart.

  "Oh, my." Her eyes grew wide, and for a moment she was speechless. Then she began the ritual he loved so well, smoothing down her dress and fussing with her hair. "I didn't see you."

  "I didn't mean to frighten you, Sarah."

  "You didn't frighten me. You can never frighten me, Jake."

  "That's good." He smiled.

  There was so much he wanted to say to her, so much he wanted to tell her. He shaped the words In his mind, just as he had done a dozen times on the way over to her house. I love you, Sarah, he would say. It was that simple. But standing beside her, drinking in her beauty, he found himself at a loss for words. Jake had never been at a loss for words in his life. He realized that he had never been in love before. With Michelle, marriage had been a necessity. With Sarah, marriage was a choice.

  "Sarah ..." That was a good start, he decided. Get her attention.

  "Yes?" She smiled up at him, soft and sweet and pretty. Never before had he seen a woman through the eyes of love. His breath left him. So did his mind.

  "Do you have another net?" he asked.

  "Another net?"

  "Yes. I’ll help Jenny catch a firefly."

  "Oh."

  They stood staring at each other—Sarah with her mouth still shaped, and Jake aching to kiss her.

  "Well, of course," she finally said. "I’ll get it."

  "I'll watch Jenny while you're gone."

  She was a delicious ice-cream sherbet crossing the yard in her peach-color dress, a sweet summer treat that made his mouth water. And he had asked her for a butterfly net. Hell, he acted as if he had never seen a woman, let alone swept one off her feet. At the rate he was going, by the time he got around to asking Sarah to marry him, he'd be too old to consummate his vows.

  "Dammit," he said.

  "Dammit, dammit, dammit," Jenny chanted from the other side of the wildflower bed. Then she squealed with laughter.

  Now he had done it. Not only would Sarah not marry him; when she heard Jenny, she would kill him.

  "Jenny, come here." He squatted down and she came loping into his arms. "How are you, sweetheart?" he asked, hugging her.

  "Dammit, dammit, dammit," she said.

  "That's not a good word for little girls to say."

  Jenny puckered her forehead and cocked her head to one side. " "hy?" she said.

  "Why? Well, because it's a grown-up word."

  " ake?" Jenny punched his chest.

  "Yes, I said it, and I'm a grown-up."

  Jake was getting in deeper and deeper. How could he explain double standards to a child who had a hard time grasping the basics? It hit him with great clarity that if he didn’t use double standards, he wouldn’t have to explain them.

  "Dammit," Jenny said staunchly.

  Jake groaned. Now what? In the distance he heard the screen door slam. Sarah was coming. He took the easy way out.

  "Sweetheart, don't use that word because your mother won’t like it."

  Jenny pinned him down with her knowing blue eyes. Then she arose from his lap and took up her butterfly net.

  "Bad bug," she said, giggling. Then she walked away.

  o0o

  Sarah didn't go to Jake immediately, but lingered in the backyard watching him with her daughter. How tender he was with Jenny. How patient. Pangs of loneliness and regret squeezed her heart. No use dreaming impossible dreams.

  She crossed the yard and handed-Jake the net.

  When he smiled at her, his eyes were so clear, she thought she could see his soul. For a moment Sarah was taken aback. Always with Jake there had been mysteries, darkness, withdrawal.

  "Here you are," she said. "A net to catch fireflies."

  "Thanks." He continued smiling, gazing down at her with eyes as vivid as green glass Christmas lights. She caught her breath. There was something lurking on the edges of Jake's mind, something important, something wonderful.

  "Thank you. Jenny will love having a playmate."

  "Good."

  Still he stood beside her. What? Sarah's mind screamed. What, Jake?

  Always when they met, he either held a part of himself back from her or got lost in the passion that seemed to overtake them so quickly. But this evening . . . She stared into his eyes, bewitched. This evening was different. A new person stared out from Jake's eyes.

  "Well . . ."he finally said. "I guess I’ll chase fireflies."

  Sarah had to sit down when he left. Perched on one of Jenny's small chairs, she watched Jake cavort with her daughter. He looked the same as always—tall, vigorous, devilishly handsome.

  Nothing is different. You're Imagining things.

  With a sigh Sarah put her dreams aside. What good would they do anyway?

  o0o

  The next morning Jake summoned his secretary. "Gwendolyn, would you come in here?"

  "You don't have to yell, Jake," she said, sashaying in. "That's what the intercom is for."

  She swung into her favorite chair, her hips encased in enough polyester to slipcover Texas.

  "Do you mind telling me what you call that outfit you're wearing?" he said.

  "I call it a bubble suit. Bert says when I'm finished with it, he wants the bloomers to use for a parachute." She leaned forward. "Now ... do you mind telling me about that scowl you're wearing."

  "It's not new."

  "I know. Don't you think it's time to take it off and get it pressed or something?"

  Jake stood up and began to pace. Accustomed to such behavior, Gwendolyn sat patiently in her chair.

  Jake stared out the window awhile, reliving the evening with Sarah and Jenny. Abruptly he turned to Gwendolyn.

  "Do I look like the kind of man a woman would turn down?"

  "Turn down for what? Tennis? Volleyball?"

  "Marriage."

  To her credit, Gwendolyn didn't appear shocked. She laid her steno pad aside.

  "I guess you and Sarah patched things up."

  "Not exactly."

  "You're telling me you proposed marriage to a woman you didn’t patch things up with and she turned you down flat?"

  "Not exactly."

  "This suspense is making me old before my time. I'm going to resign." She stood up and reached for her pad.

  "Wait." Jake pressed her back into the chair. "It's like this, Gwendolyn. . . ."He paused, remembering. How could he explain it to her?

  Gwendolyn was patient longer than usual. Then she sniffed and shook off his hand.

  "All I can say Is this: If you were as tongue-tied with Sarah as you are with me, then it's no wonder she turned you down. She probably thought you were proposing a jaunt down the Tennessee River or a trek across the cotton patch."

  "That's just it." Jake paced some more, all the while running his hands through his hair. "I didn't propose anything . . . exactly."

  "How could she turn you down if you didn’t propose?"

  "I don’t know. . . .We just kept talking about fireflies. We finally caught one for Jenny. Sarah put it in ajar. And then I left."

  Gwendolyn stood up, smoothed the polyester over Texas, and put her hand on Jake's shoulder.

  "Sit down," she said. When he was seated, she stood over him like a kindly dragon. "Now . . . what you need is a good lesson."

  "A lesson?"

  "Yes. I’ll be Sarah and you propose."

  "That's a wonderful idea, Gwendolyn." He grinned at her. "You won't tell anybody?"

  "They can hogtie me to a horse saddle and drag me through town naked. My lips are sealed." She sat back down in her chair. "Now, start."

  "I want
to marry you."

  "Why?"

  "Because I love you."

  "Like hell, you do! The last time I went out with you, you brought me home and dumped me like a sack of potatoes."

  "Sarah would never say anything like that."

  "I don't know why not. No woman likes to be dumped."

  "I didn't dump her. And besides, she would never cuss." Jake glared at her. "You're not taking this seriously."

  Gwendolyn laughed. "I'm trying to make it hard on you, Jake, because I believe Sarah is going to make it hard."

  "She won't. She's a gentle, sweet woman."

  "A woman rejected by two men . . . her husband and then you." Gwendolyn became very serious. "It's not going to be easy. I want you to know that. Sarah Love is not Townsend Publishing. You can’t just march up to her front door and request her hand and expect to receive it. It's going to take finesse, Jake."

  Jake became thoughtful. Gwendolyn was right, of course. Winning Sarah's hand would not be easy. What reason had he given her to trust him? What reason had he given her to believe anything he said? As usual, he had acted on impulse. He'd arrived at her house unannounced and unprepared. How had he expected anything except failure?

  "I guess I'm not very good at love, Gwendolyn." He stood up, feeling as frustrated as a toad at a peacock party.

  Gwendolyn came around the desk and hugged him. "Call me a sentimental old fool, but I believe you have what it takes, Jake." Unashamed, she stood back and wiped moisture from her eyes. "Now . . . get out there and do some old-fashioned courting." She picked up her steno pad and headed for the door. Over her shoulder she said, "And don't call me for anything until ten o'clock. I'm going to take a long coffee break."

  "Why?" he asked, teasing her, giving her the opportunity to have a last biting word.

  "Because I deserve it, you slave driver."

  She flounced out, and he sat at his desk smiling. He had a courtship to plan.

  o0o

  Sarah's shop phone rang at four o'clock.

  "The Dollhouse," she said.

  "Hello, Sarah."

  Jake's voice sent shivers over her. She clutched the phone to her chest a moment and breathed deeply before she replied.

  "Jake, what an unexpected pleasure." Her heart raced. "You called about Jenny, I suppose. She was so glad to see you last night. She still has the firefly in her jar. Of course I’ll have to convince her to release the poor bug, but—"