When Angels Cry (11 page)

“Mother?” Bastian repeated.  He shook his head.  “Isn’t she a little formal? 
I guess you should have taken that.
”  He looked at the answering machine
.

“I’ve never called her anything but
‘
Mother
’
—and
the only reason I’d have taken that call is if I’d wanted to speak to her in the first place, which I don't.”
  Kaylee
strode
to the answering machine and deleted the message.
  

Bastian stepped away from Kaylee, shaking his head.  “Is it me
,
or did the temperature just drop?”

“I’m not ready to deal with my mother, especially not in light of certain--things.”  She could feel a muscle beginning to ache at the base of her neck
,
and she reached up to massage it.

“Here
,
let me help.” 
Bastian tossed the dish towel onto the couch.  He softly brushed the length of her hair over her shoulder and with one hand began to
rhythmically
squeeze her neck.  He leaned closer and draped his arm around the front of her neck
so he could
brush her temple with his lips.

“
Mmm
.  That feels wonderful.” 
Kaylee rolled her head forward
,
   roll
ing
one shoulder
first
and then another. 

“I know you don’t want to think about this, much less talk about it, but you’re going to have to tell your mother at some point.”
  Bastian used the other hand to massage one of Kaylee’s shoulders.

“I know.  I’m just not ready now.  Why can’t you understand that?” 
Kaylee stiffened and side
-
stepped Bastian’s soothing touch.  She pushed the hair away from her face. 

“I can.
  I just don’t want you to make a decision you'll regret, that’s all.  I’m going back into the kitchen to finish dinner.” 
He picked up the dish towel and headed into the kitchen, leaving Kaylee alone.

She remained at the answering machine and thought of her mother.  A lump
had
formed in her throat, and she found it difficult to swallow. How did she tell her?   And what would her mother do after?  Move in
—or
worse
,
move Kaylee into some Swiss clinic where every solution was some kind of an experimental drug.

Lab rat city
.

For the first time since the day she’d found out she was sick, Kaylee sat on the couch, held her head in her hands, and wept.

Chapter
Seven

As Bastian stood in the kitchen cooking chicken breasts over a portable electric grill, an image of Angie jumped into his head.  How many times had Angie worried over his absence?  No calls in years.  He’d been good at saying goodbye, must’ve been
, but
then one goodbye could last a lifetime if one wanted things that way.

He’d promised her he
’d
look after her, that he
’d
never leave her after their mother had killed herself.  He would always be there.  He had failed
—how h
e had failed.  And where did that leave Angie?  How long had she waited for him?  Did she still?

S
he would.

A few drops of butter slid off the chicken and fell onto the burner, sizzling loudly, forcing Bastian to the present.   He’d call Angie tonight and let her know he was all right.
 
Satisfied for the moment dinner was underway, Bastian walked into the living room.

Kaylee stood near the bay window, eyeing the endless white drifts.  She’d folded her arms across her chest and seemed to be lost in a world of her own.  After a moment, he stole behind her, wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and nuzzled her neck.

“Hey, Beautiful.”

Closing her eyes, Kaylee leaned clos
e
and rubbed her cheek against his.
  “I smell something wonderful.”
 

“Now you say I can cook.  Hours ago, you didn’t want me anywhere near your kitchen.”  He reached down and laced his fingers between Kaylee’s.

“What do I know?”

“The snow is really coming down.”

Kaylee nodded.  “Harder than before.  Looks like you may be here awhile, Bastian.”

“Is this a problem?”

“No.  Actually
,
I’d planned on sabotaging your truck
,
anyway.”
She
looked down at his hand.
 

Bastian laughed.  “You don’t have to sabotage anything.  It only works
part-
time as it is.”

“I should count myself lucky.  If it did work, you’d have been gone by now.”

“Maybe.
  But I would’ve come back.  I might not have known why or when, but I would have.  I should check the food.
”  Bastian stepped back to the kitchen
and
turned the
chicken
.
Kaylee followed him into the kitchen, carrying the drawing he’d given her.

“If the weather permits,” she said, “I’d like to take you to my art studio tomorrow and give you a tour.  Maybe then we could hammer out some details about the classes you’ll be teaching.”

Bastian set both hands on the counter and leaned forward. 
“Kaylee, I love drawing.  I love painting.  But I’m not good enough to be a teacher.” 

“
You’re more than good enough.
  All my life I’ve wanted to be able to do what you can, but I can’t.  The closest I can come is to try to manage a studio I bought a couple of months ago and fill it with students ready to learn from the teacher I haven’t hired yet.  I had planned to start interviews next week, but I’ve already found the perfect person for the job—you.”
She put the drawing on the counter
and
rested her head against his arm

“Kaylee—
”

“At least think about it.  Please
.
”  As he
straightened
, Kaylee darted in front of him, forcing him to look at her.

“I’m not teacher material.  I-I don’t have the skills you’re looking for.”

“You’re stuttering.”   She wrapped both arms around him. 

“You could make a Boy Scout stutter and a priest swear,
l
ady.”

She pulled him close and kissed his neck.  “Were you a Boy Scout?”

Bastian closed his eyes and reveled in her caress.  “Yes,
m
a’am.”  One hand stroked her hair.

Kaylee nipped his earlobe.

“Hey,
you bit me.  Did you draw blood?
”  Bastian recoiled
and
touched his earlobe.  He looked at his hand.

“No
,
”   Kaylee said, “Besides, you deserved it.  You called me ma’am.”

“Yes,
m
a’am, I did.”  He turned back to the grill.  “And by the way,
m
a’am, I should check the chicken.”

Kaylee spotted a dish towel hanging on the stove handle
and
grabbed it
.  She
twist
ed
and snapped it at Bastian’s rear.  Despite the loud pop, Bastian calmly checked the meat.

“Didn’t that hurt?” she asked, twisting the towel again.

He shrugged and set the fork on the plate.
  “Not especially.”
  As Kaylee twisted the towel again, Bastian suddenly lunged and caught her wrist, pulling her about to tickle her ribs.  She dropped the towel and tried to break free but couldn’t.

“Does that tickle?” he asked, running his fingers over her sides.

“Not especially,” she replied between giggles and gasps.  She thrashed back and forth
,
kicking.  At one point, she lost her balance, and Bastian caught her.  Still, she continued to struggle, but he supported her so she wouldn’t fall.  Her eyes were closed, and she couldn’t stop laughing.

“You can say what you want, Kaylee, but your body is telling me something different.  Is there a place you aren’t ticklish?” 
Bastian was also laughing so hard he almost couldn’t breathe.  He stopped running his fingers over her stomach, giving her time to catch her breath.  Her back was taut, and he wanted to run his fingers over the whole of her y and explore every part.

“No, there isn’t.” 
Kaylee’s eyelids fluttered open, and she smiled. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.
  I guess I should check the food before we have to eat charred chicken.” 
Bastian helped Kaylee regain her balance and squeezed her shoulder. 

“That was a fowl thing to say,” Kaylee retor
ted, brushing the hair from her
face.

“I know.
  Looks like
dinner’s about
done
.
”  Bastian picked up the fork
,
prodded the meat
, and checked
the veg
gies
.  The scent of melted butter and
sautéed
onions filled the air.  Picking up one of the plates he’d set out, he placed one chicken breast and a serving of vegetables on it and handed it to Kaylee. 

“Your dinner,
m
a’am.”

“Not funny.”  Kaylee took the plate, grabbed a fork, and sat at the table beside two glasses of red wine.  Bastian had found it stowed in the back of the refrigerator.

“I thought it was.”  Bastian loaded his own plate before sitting next to Kaylee and enjoying a dinner that wasn’t too shabby.

“Why didn’t you look at me when you were at the soup kitchen?” Kaylee asked, dabbing her mouth with her napkin.

“It’s complicated, Kaylee.”  
Bastian cut his chicken breast into bite-sized portions, purposely averting his gaze.

“Tell me anyway.”

“You are tenacious, aren’t you?”  He unfolded his napkin and spread it over his lap.

Kaylee set her fork on her plate and stared at him. 
“A bulldog has nothing on me in that department. 
Y
ou were saying?”
   

“I didn’t want to look at anyone, even the reflection in the mirror.  It was bad enough having to be there for a meal, let alone seeing the charity in your eyes.” 
Bastian cut the bite-sized portions into even smaller pieces
and
quickly shoved a bite into hi
s
mouth.

“That’s not what you would have seen if you'd given me a chance.”  She touched his hand.

Bastian stiffened.  “Damn it, Kaylee.  I didn’t want to give myself a chance.  Why in hell would I let you?  When you’re down and miserable and hate yourself, you expect everyone around you to look at you the same way.
  I expected to find charity in your eyes, and regardless of how you would’ve looked at me, I would have found it.”
  He closed his eyes and thought of the gun, his father’s gun
,
with its sleek silver barrel, the cold weight heavy in his palm.

“Look at me.”  Kaylee brought her hand to his chin and lifted it so his face was level with hers.  Still, Bastian gazed downward.  “Damn it, I said look at me.”

“Why?” 
Bastian's gaze travelled from the floor to Kaylee’s face.

“I want to know what you see now.” 
Kaylee tried to swallow the panic racing in her chest.

“Kaylee—”

”Tell me, Bastian.  What do you see.”  Her fingers kept him from looking away.

“I see somebody who doesn’t have a clue what she’s getting herself into.
  Damn it, Kaylee, I don’t know why we’re doing this.  Who are we kidding?  I’m little more than a stranger.”
 
Bastian clenched his jaw. 
He threw his napkin on the table and shook his head
, leaning back
in his chair
.  He
stared at the white linoleum pattern on the floor, counting the squares to take his mind off the conversation.

Kaylee shoved the chair back and strode over to him.  “No, you’re not a stranger.  I didn’t sleep with a stranger.  I slept with you, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
 
I touched your body.”  Kaylee ran her hands across his chest, stopping where his heart was been.  “But I also touched you here, and that’s what you’re afraid of.  You see
,
if it were only physical, you could wash it away.  Hell, by tomorrow morning I’d be history, Bastian.  But I touched you in a way you can’t forget, just like you touched me.”

She placed her fingertips under his chin and lifted it so she could stare into his dark eyes.  “Now tell me what you see.”

“The most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.  You make me want to be more than I am, Kaylee.”  He stared into her eyes
and
moved closer
.  Their lips met, and h
e slid his arms around her waist
, savoring
the welcome scent of her perfume.  Bastian held her tightly
, the
image of the gun seared into the backs of his eyelids.  His father had told him
once
he’d never amount to anything, and Bastian had believed it, but right now, holding Kaylee to him, he wondered if they
had
both been wrong.  How could Kaylee love
such
a failure?  What if there were more to him than
either he or his father had seen
?

He drew her to him more tightly, determined that if the image of her face wasn’t strong enough to make him forget the past, he would hold her so closely his body couldn’t deny Kaylee was just as real as his need to self-destruct.  He wanted to shake the hell out of her for making him want to try again when he knew he was just going to screw up.  Whatever the screw-up gene was, he had it in spades.

“Bastian?” Kaylee
whispered
.  “You all right?”

“I’m fine.  Maybe we should finish our dinner.” 
He kissed her shoulder before finally r
eleasing her.
His cracking voice sounded odd even in his own ears, and he knew if his behavior defined
“
fine,
”
fine  wasn’t much short of a nervous breakdown.  He took her hand and led her back to her chair.  Once she’d sat, he pushed the chair closer to the table.

“You seem distant.”  Kaylee stared at him.  “And upset.  Sure you’re all right?”  She drummed her fingers slowly on the table, one by one, watching, waiting.

“Don’t worry.  You should eat.  The chicken won’t taste very good if it gets cold.” 
Forcing a smile, Bastian knew he was anything but fine.   He focused on his own plate and started eating again, ignoring the way she stared at him.

Reluctantly, Kaylee averted her gaze and picked up her fork.  She tried the vegetables, savoring the flavors, but only half so.  It was hard to truly enjoy them when she knew she’d just opened a
Pandora’s
Box with Bastian.  Still, she was glad she’d opened it, no matter the consequences. 

“The vegetables are wonderful
.  Maybe you should do this more often.  I could get you an apron with your name embroidered on the bib,”
she said finally and tried the chicken.
 
A few uncomfortable moments passed silently as they ate.   Kaylee
fidgeted
in her seat, finished her vegetables, and finally spoke.