Touched by Angels

by Peggy Webb

  "Sarah . . ."

  "What?"

  "I didn't call about Jenny."

  She sank into her chair and leaned her head on one hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched her daughter, her head bent over her sketch pad, humming and drawing.

  "I called about you. Sarah," Jake said.

  Her hopes soared. Then reality brought them crashing back.

  "Do you need a doll?"

  Jake's chuckle was low and sexy. Sarah crossed her legs and tugged at her skirt.

  "That's a leading question, Sarah."

  "Oh ... I didn't mean to imply ..."

  "Dear Sarah." Jake's voice was exquisitely tender. "You're not capable of ulterior motives."

  She wasn’t so sure about that. Right now she was planning how it would be if she said "Jenny needs you." Jake would come, and she would see him in her Dollhouse, looking impossibly handsome. And he might kiss her, and she might kiss him back, just for a little while, just to ease the loneliness a little. And then he would say . . .

  "Sarah, are you still there?"

  She jumped, nearly dropping the receiver. "Yes?"

  "I need to see you, Sarah." She held the receiver, waiting. "I need to talk to you. Alone."

  "Tonight, after Jenny goes to bed ..."

  "Good. I’ll see you tonight, Sarah. Until then, take care."

  She wasn't even capable of saying good-bye. She was hardly capable of breathing. She held on to the receiver long after Jake had hung up. Her mind was whirling with questions. What could he possibly have to say to her that he couldn't say in front of Jenny? What would they possibly do . . . alone. The last time they had been left alone, she knew what had happened. Sarah felt warm inside, just remembering.

  She agonized over Jake until a customer came into her shop. Sarah was so grateful for the interruption, she practically fawned over the poor woman.

  "Let me show you the dolls," she said, the coming night looming large in her mind.

  o0o

  Sarah changed dresses three times after Jenny went to bed. A body would have thought she was planning to entertain the president. Finally she chose a soft dress the color of spring leaves, then settled on her sofa to wait.

  The knock came at nine o'clock. Sarah tucked her stray curl behind her ear and went to answer the door. Jake stood on her front porch, illuminated by the glare of the naked bulb. His eyes were clear and shining, and he carried a bouquet of violets.

  "These flowers reminded me of you, Sarah," he said, holding them out with a smile that was almost shy.

  Sarah took the violets and pressed her face to the petals. When men came calling with flowers, they were usually courting. It was the old-fashioned way.

  Sarah, she chided herself. Stop jumping to conclusions.

  "Won’t you come in." She held the door wide. Jake's leg brushed against her skirt. Sarah felt weak. "Thank you for the flowers."

  Pretending nonchalance, she carried the flowers to a vase, then took her time arranging them, keeping her back to Jake. When she realized she couldn't keep her back to him the rest of the evening without arousing suspicion, she turned and smiled.

  "All they need is water. Excuse me a moment, please."

  In the kitchen she leaned against the sink. Even though a wall separated them, she could feel Jake sitting on her sofa, feel his heat, his power. She never should have agreed to let him come.

  "What am I going to do?" she whispered. Her only answer was the ticking of the kitchen clock.

  Sarah ran water into the vase and carried it back to her den. Jake smiled when she entered the room.

  "I love that dress, Sarah. It becomes you."

  "Thank you."

  She sat on a chair across from Jake thinking she could gain some advantage by studying his face. What she gained was a case of jitters. The dark and brooding man she was accustomed to dealing with had vanished, and in his place was a man with a purpose. What if he wanted to talk about what had happened at his mansion? What if he wanted her to become his mistress?

  She waited, watching his face.

  "I want to touch you," he said. "I can never see you without wanting to touch you."

  Still, he remained on the sofa. Not knowing what he was going to say next, not knowing how she would respond. Sarah thought it wise to listen.

  "This afternoon, sitting in my office, I made myself a promise, Sarah. I will not let passion get in the way of reason."

  "That sounds sensible." Stiff with tension, Sarah sat on the edge of her chair. She was so tired of being sensible. Every day and in every area of her life she had to make sensible decisions. Sometimes her heart rebelled. At that very moment it was in rebellion. "Oh, Jake," she wanted to tell him. "Let's not be sensible this evening."

  But she didn't say any such thing. Her life and Jenny's depended on her good common sense.

  Jake leaned forward, his face intense. "Once I told you we didn't have a future together." She nodded. "I was wrong."

  "What did you say?"

  "I said, I was wrong, Sarah. From the first day we met, our future was seeded."

  "That sounds like a fairy tale, Jake." Sarah struggled for composure.

  "I kept coming back, telling myself I was coming to see Jenny, telling myself I was coming to repair your steps and mow your yard." He started to get up, then changed his mind and sat back down. "None of that was true, Sarah; I came to see you. I would drive by your house hoping to get a glimpse of your face or even the hem of your skirt."

  "Please, Jake . . ." She held up her hand as if she were warding him off. "You don't have to say these things just to make me feel better." She paused for breath, then rushed on before she could change her mind. "I know you said you would leave soon, as soon as Jenny is back in school: but I want you to know that it's okay if you leave now. We can manage. We always have."

  "Sarah, sweet Sarah." Jake left the sofa and knelt at her feet. He lifted her left hand to his lips for a warm, lingering kiss. "I'm not saying good-bye, my love; I'm saying hello."

  Her hand trembled in his, but she didn't pull away.

  "I love you, Sarah. I've loved you for a very long time."

  Her hopes and dreams blended together in perfect harmony, and for a moment Sarah imagined a future with Jake. It would be beautiful, wonderful . . . and perfectly impossible.

  "Please don't say any more, Jake."

  "I must."

  He pulled a small box from his pocket and snapped open the lid. A perfect heart-shaped diamond lay against the velvet. Sarah couldn't resist touching it. With one finger she traced the shape of the stone.

  "Do you like it?"

  "Oh, Jake, I love it."

  "I thought you would." He pulled the ring from the box. The stone caught the lamplight and sent showers of sparkles across Sarah's dress. "I want to marry you, Sarah. I want to love and cherish you for the rest of our lives."

  "What about Jenny?"

  "I love her. She will be our daughter, Sarah."

  All the love Sarah felt for Jake shone in her face as she gazed at him. How tempting he was. How easy it would be to say yes, to forget about the day-to-day problems of her life and pretend she could live happily ever after.

  "No, Jake," she finally said.

  "I know this is sudden, Sarah. If you want to think about it awhile ..."

  "I could think about it from now until the end of time, and my answer would still be the same." She stood up, out of his reach. "I will not marry you."

  "Don't you love me, Sarah?" He stood up, ramming the ring into his pocket.

  "This has nothing to do with love."

  "It has everything to do with love." He caught her shoulders and pulled her against his chest. "Tell me you don't love me. Say you don't love me, can never love me, and then I’ll accept no for an answer."

  In the safe haven of his arms, regret sliced through her. And loneliness so great, she thought she would cry. She allowed herself to stay in his arms a moment, dreaming impossible dreams; then she pul
led away.

  "I won't tell you that, Jake," she said, facing him. "But I will tell you this: Bobby Wayne pledged undying love and then left at the first sign of trouble."

  "I'm not Bobby Wayne."

  "Maybe you're not Bobby Wayne, but I'm the same Sarah. I survived his leaving, Jake, but I could never survive yours."

  Jake didn't reply immediately, but paced her room. His expression tore at her heart. He was fierce and yet vulnerable, determined and somewhat shy, extraordinarily proud and somehow willing to be humble. He was no ordinary man, and his passion was no ordinary passion.

  Sarah fought against being caught up. She was tempted, so very tempted, but she didn't back down. Her future and Jenny's were at stake. She couldn't afford to be weak.

  When he faced her, she could see his struggle for control. His hands were shoved deeply into his pockets, and the muscles across his shoulders were bunched with tension.

  "I'm not accustomed to love, Sarah. I'm accustomed to casual affairs that demand nothing of me except my attention for a few hours at a time."

  "Please don't say any more, Jake."

  "I must."

  "My answer won't change."

  "Neither will my love." He reached for her, then pulled back without touching her. She was grateful, for she knew she could never resist his touch. "What I'm telling you, Sarah, is that I'm accustomed to taking whatever comfort I can get, and then retreating to my black moods and foolhardy ways."

  "The motorcycle?"

  "Yes, and the skydiving and any other damn fool way I could think of to tempt fate."

  "Because of Bonnie?"

  "Yes." He came to her then. A shiver passed through her as he took her hand. He didn't lift it to his lips, didn't press it between his. Instead, he lifted it to the light and studied each finger, caressed each blue vein that crisscrossed her palm, touched the pulse point on her wrist. "I've held myself back from you because of what happened that night in the storm. Because of Michelle . . . and Bonnie."

  "Don't. ..." She pressed her free hand over his lips.

  He kissed her fingertips, and she drew her hands away from him and clenched them behind her back. The need to believe in his vision of love and marriage made her tremble inside.

  "Don't," she whispered again, for she didn't trust herself to say more.

  "I'm free, Sarah. That's what I wanted to tell you when I came to your backyard last night."

  “The fireflies," she said softly.

  "Yes." He smiled ruefully. "I wanted to tell you that I love you and that I've put the past behind and that I want to spend the rest of my life with you and Jenny. . . .All I did was end up helping you catch a firefly."

  His gaze was so direct, so sincere, she couldn't pull away. She saw passion in his eyes . . . and need . . . and love.

  "I want you, Sarah," he said. "I want to love you and cherish you and protect you. I want you to lean on me and to hold me and to love me back."

  She felt the tears gather in her throat. She swallowed hard and fought to hold them at bay.

  "I can't," she finally said.

  "Can't or won't?"

  "It doesn't matter." She walked quickly to the window and stood looking out at the summer night. Behind her he was very still. What was he thinking? What was he doing? She dared not turn around.

  "It matters, Sarah."

  He came up behind her and turned her gently around. With the back of his hand he tipped her chin up so he could see her face.

  "I won't give up, you know."

  "I won't give in."

  He gazed at her for a long time. Tension coiled through her until she could hardly breathe. His eyes changed as he leaned toward her. Her heart slammed against her chest. Without a word he kissed her.

  She didn't try to fight anymore. She needed his kiss, needed his touch. When Jake touched her, her loneliness broke into tiny pieces and fluttered like small butterflies to some faraway place.

  She wound her arms around his neck and pressed herself close. He felt solid and good. She wanted to lean on him forever, to give up the small day-to-day trials of her life and depend on Jake to take care of her.

  His lips moved over hers with gentle insistence. Sarah let herself love him. Just for a little while.

  His hands were strong on her, his lips gentle. Feelings poured through her like hot honey.

  "Jake," she murmured. "Jake." Not even aware she had spoken his name.

  He pulled her close, kissing her as if it had been invented just for the two of them. He kissed her until reason vanished. Nothing remained except need and desire and the two of them, standing next to the window, holding on to each other.

  Take me, her mind screamed. Take me into my bedroom painted blue and put an end to this exquisite agony.

  As if he read her mind, Jake broke the kiss and gazed down at her.

  "Don't think I don't want you, Sarah. Don't think I don't want to take you into that blue bedroom and spread you across the bed and make love to you until you are too weak to say anything except yes."

  She pressed her hand over her lips, saying nothing.

  "I took advantage of you once," he said. "I’ll never do it again."

  He rammed his hand into his pocket and came back with the ring. The diamond caught the lamplight and threw sparkles across the front of her dress. She felt branded. For as long as she lived she would always wear his mark, would always carry the brand of his body against hers.

  "This is yours, Sarah. I’ll keep coming back until you agree to wear it on your finger."

  Her throat was so clogged, she couldn't speak. Jake gave her one last penetrating look, then walked out her door. She pressed her face to the window to watch him leave. He looked tall and strong in the moonlight, tall and strong and wonderful. And she wanted him more than she had ever wanted anyone or anything in her life.

  At the gate Jake turned and gazed back at the house. The moonlight made his face look like a carving.

  Sarah didn't move away from the window. Her last glimpse of him was too precious to miss. She would hold it forever next to her heart.

  At last he turned and went through the gate. She watched until his car disappeared into the night. The tears that had threatened all evening rolled down her cheeks. She loved Jake . . . loved him enough to let him go.

  With quiet dignity and resolution she picked up her telephone. Although the number was long distance and she could ill afford the cost, she dialed anyway. Desperate circumstances called for desperate measures.

  Her old friend answered on the first ring.

  "Jane, I know it's late, but I need a favor."

  "You name it, you got it. After what you did for me, I'd walk on water if you asked me to."

  "What I'm going to ask is much simpler than that."

  Sarah spent the next five minutes telling Jane what she wanted. Later, as she lay in bed staring in the dark, she told herself she was doing the right thing.

  Chapter Ten

  Jake was not deterred by his second failure with Sarah. Eventually he would win her, and she was worth any effort, worth any cost, worth any wait.

  The morning after his ill-fated proposal, he arrived at Townsend Publishing whistling.

  "She must have said yes." Gwendolyn followed him into his office, determined to find out every detail.

  "She said no."

  "Then why are you so all-fired cheerful?"

  "Because sooner or later she'll say yes." He sat down behind his desk, smiling. "I'm in love, Gwendolyn."

  "Any jackass can see that." She snorted, but Jake wasn't fooled. Gwendolyn cared. She poured two cups of coffee and handed him one. "I guess all that practicing was a waste of my valuable time."

  "I've found out that love is not a game. All the scheming in the world is not going to make it work."

  She suppressed a grin. "What will, pray tell? An act of Congress?"

  "Two, Gwendolyn."

  "Two what?" She held up her hand. "No, don't tell me. Let me guess. Two fat
wizards coming up with a secret formula. Two fat senators with nothing better to do but make it a law: Love must be reciprocated."

  "Ahhh, Gwendolyn. Nothing can mar my mood today." He spun his chair and gazed out the window. "Did you ever see such a beautiful day? Did you ever notice how blue the sky is this time of year? How the trees look as if they're painted against a giant canvas?" He spun back around. "Until yesterday morning I didn't know birds had so many different songs."

  "I'm going to be squalling here in a minute. I guess I'm turning into a sentimental old fool." She dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, then glared at him. "But don't you go telling Bert."

  "I wouldn't dream of such a thing."

  Jake picked up the phone and dialed Sarah's number. It rang seven times before he gave up. "She must be outside with Jenny."

  An hour later he tried again. Still no answer.

  "She must be doing some shopping."

  He waited two hours before trying once more. The phone rang twelve times before he gave up.

  "Gwendolyn," he called as he hurried past her desk, "I'm going out to Sarah's. I'll be back shortly."

  "What about ..."

  He didn't wait to hear the rest of her comment. He didn't care if he had appointments with the President of the United States and the Prince of Wales to boot. He had to see about Sarah.

  There was no sign of life at Sarah's house. He rang the bell and knocked on the door. No one came. He walked to the west entrance and peered through the picture window. The Dollhouse was empty.

  By now, Jake was getting worried. Had Jenny had an accident? Had Sarah? What if she had fallen trying to do some damned repair to her sagging house and an ambulance had come to take her away? He passed a hand over his sweating face. So many bad things could happen to a woman alone.

  Forcing himself under control, he walked to his car and drove back to Townsend Publishing. He was being paranoid. He was letting his past influence his thinking.

  Sarah could be doing all sorts of errands that took most of the day. Or she could be out with friends. Hell, just because he loved her didn't mean he knew all there was to know about her. She probably had good friends in Birmingham, or even Florence by now, who had come up to take her on a little outing. Heaven knew, she deserved it.