Broken Angels (18 page)

“Neil?”

“Yeah, he says he has some documents for us to sign to finalize the guardianship. He offered to drop them off tomorrow.”

Zach took a bite. A medley of delicious spices spread through his mouth, and he realized he was hungrier than he’d thought. “Sounds good,” he said between mouthfuls. “I wanna get this settled as soon as possible.” Then, lifting a pair of inquisitive eyes her way, he asked, “Are you still on board?” It stunned him, how badly he was anticipating her answer.

“Of course I am. How can you ask me something like that?”

The pleasure he drew from her fervent reply delivered an even greater shock to his system. He’d convinced himself he wanted her to leave, yet the mere thought of not having her around filled him with a disappointment so bitter it seared his stomach.

“I just thought— After what happened this morning—”

“That I may have changed my mind?” Her brows rode high on her forehead. “Look, Zach, we haven’t lived together in two years. It’s going to take some getting used to. We’re bound to tick each other off every now and then.”

One corner of his mouth inched upward. “If I remember correctly, we did that a lot when we were married. Things between us were always very—”

“Passionate?” she finished for him.

His last bite lodged in his throat. “I was going to say interesting.” He tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Did you close the windows? It’s kinda warm in here.”

A knowing smile bounded across her lips. “It’s raining.”

“Right.” Their gazes locked. He could’ve sworn a silent challenge flickered in her rust-colored eyes. One thing was certain; she wasn’t mad at him anymore. In fact, what he caught in her heated glance was far more unsettling…and far riskier.

“You’re not leaving, are you, Aunt Becca?” Kristen gazed up at Rebecca, her curious eyes fringed with worry. Dwarfed by her pink and white canopy bed, she appeared small and fragile, like an angel floating on a fluffy cloud.

“No, kiddo, I’m not leaving.” She seemed to be getting that question a lot today.

Kristen didn’t look reassured. She reached for Lindsay’s sweater and clasped it tightly in her arms. A long pause ensued, in which the child immobilized her with her hesitant stare. Worry lines crinkled her smooth brows. “Aunt Becca?”

“Yes?”

“When are my mommy and daddy coming home?”

The innocent query nearly knocked Rebecca to the ground. Her knees weakened, and she lowered her body onto the bed beside Kristen. She had no idea what to say to the child. Was it wise to lie to her, to keep the delusion alive? Or was it best to tell her the truth? If so, how did one shatter a little girl’s hopes and live with oneself?

“I’m not sure, sweetie,” was all she managed to say.

Kristen hugged the sweater harder, and a light went out in her eyes. “Noah says they’re never coming back.” A cough shook her small chest, and Rebecca couldn’t help but worry that another asthma attack was imminent. She had to calm the girl before things got out of hand.

“Boys always think they know everything.” She struggled to infuse some levity in her voice. “But we know better, don’t we?”

Kristen nearly smiled. To Rebecca’s great relief, her breathing eased a tad. After smoothing out the sheets she urged the girl to lie down. Kristen complied, and Rebecca tenderly tucked her in. She wished she could comfort her in a more significant way—wished she could ease her pain and chase the dark cloud of grief from her face—but only time could accomplish that. All she could do was help these kids get through each and every day, distract them to the best of her abilities, until the memories lost color and the harsh ache in their hearts settled into a weak throb.

Kristen turned on her side and closed her eyes. Rebecca slowly rose to her feet and prepared to leave.

“Aunt Becca,” the girl called again, “could you sleep with me a little? I don’t like being alone.”

Anxiety tingled along her spine, but she reluctantly nodded. She stretched out beside Kristen and gently gathered her in her arms. Lindsay’s flower-scented perfume enfolded her, made her heart ache and a flood of memories rush in. She closed her eyes, listened to the silence, until the soft drone banished all thought and sleep finally swept in to anesthetize her mind.

Zach closed Will’s door behind him, happy the toddler was asleep at last. The rain had stopped. All he heard was the gentle rasp of his feet as he made his way to Noah’s room. The boy sat in bed, playing his Game Boy with the volume off. When he caught sight of Zach, he stashed the device behind his back.

Zach pretended not to have noticed. “Still awake?”

“Can’t sleep.” Noah watched him warily, like a rabbit eyeing a wolf.

Various drawings littered the nightstand, all dark and bloody. Zach picked one up. The image of some kind of monster running a spike through another’s heart glared up at him. “What are these?”

The boy shrugged. “I’m making a comic book.”

Zach put the violent drawing aside. Concern congealed in his gut. “I hear there was some trouble at summer camp today.”

“Yeah, so?” Noah averted his gaze. Somehow he managed to look ashamed and annoyed all at once.

“Wanna tell me about it?”

“Not really. I already told Aunt Becca. Didn’t she tell you everything?”

“Yeah, but I want to hear it from you.” Zach sat on the corner of Noah’s bed, letting him know in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t going anywhere until they had it out. “What happened?”

The boy shrugged again—his favorite gesture, apparently. “This kid picked on Kristen. I told him to stop, but he wouldn’t listen. Then he shoved me, so I decked him.”

Zach dug deep inside him, hoping to find some fatherly wisdom he could impart. “Lots of people are going to say and do things you don’t like. You’re going to have to learn to control your temper. You can’t raise your fists every time someone annoys you.”

“Why not?”

The question stumped him. “Because violence isn’t the answer.”

“So it’s okay for him to call my sister names and push me, but it’s not okay for me to hit back?”

“That’s not what I said. What he did was wrong. There’s no question about that. But there are other ways to handle things—”

“Like what?”

Hell, he wasn’t sure. Maybe Noah really had given the little creep what he deserved, but he couldn’t very well tell him that. He was his nephew’s guardian now. He had to give him the right advice, whatever that may be.

“You could’ve just ignored him.”

Noah snorted. “Yeah, right. That would’ve worked.” The sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable.

“All I’m saying is that violence should be the last resort. Just because you’re stronger than someone doesn’t mean you have to flatten them.”

“Fine. Whatever you say.” Noah slid down in bed, pulling the covers to his chin. Zach got the distinct feeling his nephew was silently telling him to get lost.

Realizing he wasn’t going to make any inroads tonight, he stood and shuffled to the door. “Get some sleep,” he told him. “Tomorrow’s a new day.”

The boy turned his back to him. Defeat siphoned what remained of Zach’s energy. With lethargic fingers he turned off the light. “Good night,” he whispered as he slipped out of the bedroom.

Noah didn’t bother to reply.

Chapter Seventeen

“I see you took my advice,” came an unexpected voice from beyond the shrubs. Rebecca gazed over the fence to find Voula beaming at her. The neighbor pointed to the children, who were playing with Bolt. “You got them a dog.”

“I sort of got suckered into it,” she confessed. “It seems I have a problem saying no to them.”

Warmth glazed the woman’s features. “They look happy. I haven’t seen them this happy since—” She faltered. “Well, I can barely remember. Everything that happened before is unclear, like a dream.”

“I know what you mean.” Memories dulled over time, lost definition. She feared one day she’d wake up and Lindsay’s face would be nothing more than a washed-out photograph in her mind.

“The baby’s gotten so big.” Voula observed Will as he tried to climb onto the puppy’s back. Bolt dashed off, and Will fell on his backside. His shrill wail instantly rose to the heavens, loud enough to shock the wings off the angels.

“He’s convinced the dog’s a pony,” Rebecca told her with a smile. “Keeps trying to ride him.”

Voula laughed. “I can see that.” Her gaze strayed to Kristen and Noah, who were ecstatic not to have to go to summer camp this morning. “How are Noah and Kristen getting along?”

“Better. They haven’t fought once today. I take it as a good sign.”

“Don’t let their squabbles fool you,” she whispered conspiratorially. “They’re the best of friends. There’s nothing that boy wouldn’t do for his sister. He may like to torment her, but he’s always watching out for her.”

Rebecca nodded. “I’m starting to get that.”

Voula’s cat lazily strayed into the yard, oblivious to the fact that a dog had now marked it as his territory. As soon as Bolt sensed her, his ears perked up and his body stretched in an unmistakable hunting stance. Barely a heartbeat later he sprinted after the unsuspecting feline. The cat hissed and scampered away, surprisingly fast for her hefty build.

The children guffawed with laughter. “Told you Kanela was fast.” Kristen gloated.

“Bolt’s faster,” Noah challenged. “The cat just got away because she was able to crawl under the fence.”

“Not true.” Kristen pouted.

“Is too.”

“Not true.”

“Is too.”

“Enough of that, kids,” Rebecca quickly interjected before things got out of hand. “Look, Bolt wants to play Fetch.”

The puppy watched the children with a pleading look, a ball clasped between his teeth. Within moments Kristen and Noah were arguing over who would get to throw the ball first.

Rebecca rolled her eyes and sighed. “Here we go again. I knew their sudden truce was too good to last.”

“Enjoy it,” the neighbor advised. “They grow up so fast. I was only blessed with one daughter, and in a blink she was gone.”

“She moved away?”

Regret stole the sparkle from Voula’s eyes. “She lives in California now. She’s an anchorwoman for NBC.”

Rebecca was impressed. “Wow, you must be proud.”

“I’m happy she’s living her dream,” Voula replied, “but I’d much rather have her close to home.”

Rebecca understood the woman’s loneliness, that quiet ache inside to have a person you love close to you. Her own mother had recently remarried and moved to North Carolina. Granted, it wasn’t as far as California, but far enough to make seeing her on a daily basis impossible. While Rebecca had been growing up, her mom had been the only steadfast presence in her life, the one person she’d always turned to for comfort. Her dad had left when she was too little to remember him. As far as she was concerned, she’d always had but one parent. She would have loved to turn to her mom for help right now, but a phone call was the best she could hope for.

“Kristen’s birthday is coming up,” Voula said, brightening. “Are you planning a party for her?”

“I hadn’t thought about it.”

“You should. A birthday celebration is a wonderful distraction.”

Rebecca frowned. “I don’t even know who her friends are.”

“It doesn’t have to be big. Family will do. I’ll bake a cake.” The woman radiated with energy.

“I don’t want to put you to any trouble—”

“It’s no trouble at all. You invite the guests. I’ll handle everything else.”

“If you really don’t mind,” Rebecca reluctantly agreed.

“Nonsense. Why would I mind? These kids are like family to me.” Her expression brimmed with wistfulness. “My daughter is so career-minded she insists she’ll never have kids.” She gazed at the children, smiling with tender warmth. “So these three are the only grandkids I’ll ever have. It makes no difference that we’re not related. They’re my grandchildren in every way that counts.”

Something about Voula’s quiet yearning sang to her own. She envied the woman’s ability to accept what she would never have and her willingness to open her heart to three children who needed the affection only a grandmother could provide. Zach and Lindsay’s mother had sadly passed away five years ago, and since Liam’s parents lived abroad, the children only got to see them a couple of times a year. Rebecca was happy Voula’s presence filled a void in their lives, especially given all the losses they’d recently suffered.

The dog went splashing around in a puddle of mud, then jumped on Noah and Kristen with unbridled excitement, staining their clothing with a set of muddy prints.

“Oh, no,” Rebecca groaned.

Kristen and Noah laughed at her horror-struck expression.

“There are two things every self-respecting mother or guardian should have.” Voula grinned. “A good stain-remover and plenty of bleach.”

It was nearly two in the afternoon when Neil Hopkins arrived, a leather briefcase gripped in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. “Hope it’s not a bad time,” he said, as Zach moved aside to admit him.

“Not at all. We’ve been expecting you.”

Becca strolled into the vestibule and came to stand beside Zach. “Hello, Mr. Hopkins.”

“Ms. James.” The attorney handed her the wine. “A small gift to mark this special occasion. It’s from my own personal collection. A Cabernet Sauvignon.”

Becca took the bottle from him. “Thank you.”

“It’s a wonderfully textured wine,” he added, “woodsy and spicy, with just a hint of cherry and mint. Trust me when I tell you you’re going to love it. Grew up on a vineyard, so I know what I’m talking about.”

“Sounds delicious.” An appreciative smile skipped across her mouth. “But it really wasn’t necessary.”

“Nonsense. Becoming a parent is an event that should be celebrated, regardless of the circumstances.”

Zach watched Becca for a reaction, noting the way her shoulders stiffened and her fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle. Her face, however, gave none of her anxiety away. “Isn’t it a little premature?” he asked the lawyer, hoping he didn’t sound too ungrateful. “I thought we had to have some kind of hearing first—”

Hopkins waved his concerns away with a perfectly manicured hand. “Just a technicality. Those three are as good as yours.” His sharp gaze swept through the house. “It’s pretty quiet in here. I’m guessing the kids are at camp.”