When Angels Cry Page 7

  Outside the wind whipped up, driving the snow into miniature cyclones before the flakes dropped again. Leaks of cool air seeped in around the windows, and Kaylee shivered. Bastian moved to the window and peered out into the incessant snow. Would this storm never break? The cold wind had frosted the lower portion of the window pane.

  “Have I made the mistake of thinking there’s something between us?” he asked quietly. “Did I make a mistake in trying to show that I care about you? That’s not pity, not even close. It’s a gesture of love and faith and….” His voice faltered. He turned, folded his arms across his chest, and leveled his gaze at her. He thought of his father, of all the empty “I love yous” and “I’m only doing this because I care” incidents and how he’d never meant any of it. For his father, it had always seemed those were just things to say, things to move them from point “A” to point “B.”

  Kaylee cringed. “I can take care of myself. I don’t want you to fix anything for me.”

  “I know you can. It was meant as a kindness, not an assumption, lady. I honestly don’t have a clue what's going on.” Bastian sat back, half-leaning against the sill, his hands on either side for balance.

  “Then why don’t you leave? You don’t have to stay on my account.”

  Bastian gritted his teeth and leaned forward, away from the damp window. She was trying to drive him to that, and he wasn’t going to be driven. His heart pounded in his chest, and he wondered how things could feel so wonderful one moment and so irritating the next.

  “I could do that, I guess, if my truck would start, but would it matter? I’d be back. Leaving starts as a desire, and if that desire is strong enough, it turns to action. I don’t have that desire. There’s something between us I can’t explain, something maybe I don’t want to feel and maybe you don’t, either, but something that’s here whether we want to deal with it or not. I’d have to be blind not to know we’re both scared. Terrified. Half of you wants to get close to me, the other half wants me out the door. The question is, which is winning?”

  “You don’t understand. It can’t work, Bastian. There’s no…time.” Kaylee’s expression softened, and tears crept into her eyes. She blinked rapidly, trying to drive them away.

  “Maybe not, but then again, maybe we exist apart from time.”

  He stepped toward her-–tentative, uncertain–and placed his finger over her mouth. He pulled her to him, leaned toward her, and filled her mouth with his. He kissed her lips and throat, reveling in the perfumed aura of her soft skin. He could feel her throat vibrate softly as a moan escaped, and he pulled away just long enough to see her eyes close and lips part. Slipping one arm beneath the bend of her knees and the other around her back, he lifted her into his arms. She was so unimaginably light.

  “Don’t fall in love with me because you feel sorry for me,” she whispered. “I couldn’t bear that.” Kaylee’s eyes fluttered open, and she leaned against his chest.

  “I didn’t. I fell in love because I couldn’t help myself. I know that sounds corny, but that doesn’t make it less true.” Bastian lowered her to the bed and lay next to her, kissing her forehead. “You’re breathing fast,” he whispered.

  “Your fault.” She looked at him, offering a gentle smile.

  He stroked her neck, tracing the hollow of her throat. “I know CPR. Am I going to have to use it?”

  “Definitely.” Kaylee pulled him to her.

  Hours later, they lay naked beneath the comforter. Snow still spilled from a grey sky, and the cold had frosted over the remainder of the window panes. Late afternoon shadows lay pooled at the corners of the room and had begun their trek across the floor.

  The room was quiet save for Kaylee’s slow, steady breathing. Her head and right arm lay upon Bastian’s chest, and with his arm curled around her, he held her, liking the warmth of her. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the last time he’d held a woman, but his mind drew a blank, as if Kaylee had erased the past and had started re-writing the future. At one time, he might have minded that, even hated it, but now it really didn’t matter. Besides, making love to her had only confirmed what he’d guessed: no one could make him feel like she did.

  Her dark hair spilled over her face like silk, and with his free hand, he carefully brushed it away so he could see her face. Before, he’d never understood how a man could watch a woman sleep, but there was something peaceful and reassuring about the way Kaylee’s chest rose and fell against him. He ran his fingertips over her shoulders, between her shoulder blades, and down to the small of her back. As his fingers traced the Braille of her body, he found two dimples above her buttocks, and his fingers traced the contours.

  Kaylee stretched her legs, squirming slightly. He brushed his fingertips lightly from her shoulder blades to her buttocks and back again.

  “Hey there, sleepyhead,” he whispered, kissing her temple.

  “What time is it?” Kaylee tried to read the clock beside the bed.

  “Time to lie back down. I like you where you are.” Bastian pressed his palm against her chest.

  “How long have I been asleep?” she asked, closing her eyes again.

  “About five hours. The sun is going down.” He pointed at the window.

  Kaylee nestled closer. “I can’t believe I slept that long.”

  “I think you might still be recovering from the swim you took the other day.”

  Kaylee opened her eyes and smiled, stroking his cheek and chin. “Do you seduce every girl you save?”

  “Just a few.” Bastian tilted his face toward her hand and kissed her finger. He kissed her hand again and growled, pretending to bite her.

  Kaylee yelped and withdrew her hand. “Have you had your shots?”

  Bastian grinned wickedly. “I’ll never tell.”

  “I have a confession to make.” Kaylee stared at his face, memorizing the way the waning light of the afternoon cast an aura about his face, illuminating his dark hair, and setting the deep auburn highlights ablaze with russet.

  “What, that you aren’t a mermaid? I knew that already. Mermaids can swim.” Bastian arched his eyebrows. They both laughed.

  “Do you remember the mystery man you overheard Rosie and me talking about?”

  Bastian stiffened, wondering where this was leading. “Yeah. You didn’t seem interested in talking about him.”

  “We were talking about you.” Kaylee smiled.

  “I don’t get it. We just met.” Bastian sat up.

  Kaylee nodded and squirmed to be closer to him. “Yeah, we did just meet, but I’ve seen you around. I volunteer at St. Andrew’s soup kitchen once a week. That’s how I first met Rosie.”

  “What in the hell was I thinking?” he muttered. Bastian flushed and sprang out of bed.

  “Where are you going?” Kaylee asked, drawing the comforter around her nakedness. The cool air chilled her, and she shivered.

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? It might have saved us both this embarrassment.” Bending, Bastian retrieved his boxers. With a deft tug, he drew them over his hips and pulled on his jeans.

  “What embarrassment? What are you talking about?”

  “I’m not from your world, Kaylee. Maybe you can’t see that, but sooner or later all you friends will, friends like Rosie. Yeah, I bet you and your friends had a great time at my expense, talking about what a sad sack case I was.” He leaned over the bed, bracing his weight on his hands. He grabbed his shirt, turned it right side out, and pulled it over his head.

  “You don’t like pity any more than I do. And damned if we wanted to give you any. Rosie always told me I ought to talk to you. No matter–you never even looked at me, anyway.” Kaylee threw back the blanket and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. In the dying sunlight, her skin glistened. Bastian tried to look away as she bent, collected her own clothing, and began to dress. She buttoned her blouse over her bare breasts.

  “What were the odds you’d be the one pulling me out of the water, Bastian? One in a million?
A billion? You want to argue those odds? Go ahead. I sure didn’t fall in just to somehow belittle you or, God forbid, insult your precious sense of propriety. Do you realize just how stupid this sounds? It’s like we’re back in junior high, wondering what the other cheerleader will say about a match between one of their own and some bad boy from the other side of the tracks. Jesus, Bastian. You could say you ended up here for a lot of reasons, but don’t say it’s because I pitied you. Say it was because I stupidly fell in love with you.” She pulled on her jeans and jerked the silver button through the hole up the fly. She started out the door, but at the last minute turned back.

  “By the way, I need a teacher for my art studio. I’d like to offer you the job--not that you’ll take it. No, you might think I offered it because you saved my life or maybe that I slept with you.” She shook her head. “I’ve never slept with anyone, Bastian. If you think I’d throw myself at you out of pity, you’re wrong.”

  “Then why did you,” he finally asked. “There’s nothing so special about me, but damned if you don’t think you see something there. I don’t understand it.”

  Bastian sat on the edge of the bed and picked up his shoes. He could feel her gaze burning into him, but he refused to look at her. He looked at the shoes in his hand. For a moment, the image of the gun jumped into his head, but he clenched his jaw and forced it away. That wasn’t a solution anymore, if indeed it ever had been.

  “And damned if you see anything good in you at all. Did you really think I’d laugh at you?” Kaylee slowly crossed the room and sat next to him. She touched his hand, caressing the backs of his fingers.

  He shook his head. “No, I guess not, but old ideas die hard.”

  “What ideas, exactly?”

  “Can we not talk about that just now?”

  Kaylee frowned. “All right, Bastian, if that’s what you want.” Her voice was soft, reassuring. “I would never laugh at you.” She stared out the window, watching the line of light seeping through the window slowly withdrawing as the afternoon crept toward evening.

  Bastian shifted tactics. “Why do you want me to teach? Because I need a job? I can find one on my own, you know?”

  “I offered you the job because you’re observant and talented and would make a great teacher. I’d be proud to have you there. It’s not because I’m grateful or because I feel sorry for you.” Kaylee leaned her head against his shoulder. The grandfather clock downstairs chimed 5:00.

  He shook his head. “I guess I’ve been overreacting, eh?”

  Kaylee smiled and nodded. She held her forefinger and thumb like separated pinchers and said, “Maybe just a little.”

  “Like I said, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m not exactly good with people, and most of the time, I’ve simply avoided all the complicated stuff—afraid, I guess.” Slipping his arm around Kaylee, Bastian leaned his head on hers.

  “Of what?” Kaylee nestled close her him.

  “Shadows,” he said, and left it at that. It was too close to what he wanted to say, so he shifted tactics again. “You make me crazy, you know that? In my wildest dreams I never could have imagined someone like you caring about someone like me. What made you look twice?”

  “I wondered,” Kaylee said quietly, stroking his hand, “ what you thought about all those times. You seemed a million miles away, yet focused and intent just the same. I wondered what it would take to break through the walls you’d worked so hard to maintain.”

  “I wasn’t thinking anything worth repeating,” he said, thinking back to the gun, trying to remember what it had felt like in his hand. He couldn’t. And he didn’t want to think about that now—not here, and not with her.

  Kaylee laid her head in his lap. “What are you thinking now?” Kaylee peered up at his face but found his eyes closed.

  Bastian raked his fingers through his hair. “That it’s funny how things sometimes work out. This is what I get for jumping in that damned pond.”

  “I guess it is,” she agreed, trickling her fingers up and down his right side.

  “I’m not ticklish, Kaylee.”

  Arching her eyebrows, she asked, “Is that a challenge?”

  “Take it any way you want.” He lowered his hand to her abdomen and trilled his fingers across her mid-section. At first, his fingers brushed against Kaylee’s soft cotton shirt, but as Kaylee wiggled, trying to escape, he felt her smooth, taut stomach where her shirt had begun to inch upward. His abdomen tightened as he felt himself growing erect again.

  Kaylee rolled from his lap and fell to the floor, collapsing in a fit of laughter.

  Amused, Bastian peered down at her. “Oops. You can’t say the same thing, can you?”

  “No. I am slightly ticklish.” She held out her hands for him, and Bastian pulled her upright.

  “Tsk-tsk…People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. Perhaps we should go in search of food.” As if on cue, his stomach rumbled noisily.

  “Perhaps we should.” Kaylee took his hand and led him from the bedroom down the hallway. Together, they made their way to the kitchen, where Kaylee opened the refrigerator and scanned the shelves.

  “It looks like there’s plenty of lunch meat for sandwiches—ham, turkey, and chicken.” She closed the door and opened the freezer to peruse its contents. “Not much in here—a couple of steaks and a few chicken breasts. What’s your pleasure?” She closed that door, too, and looked at him. As she stood in the kitchen, the cold linoleum chilled her feet, and if her feet were cold, the rest of her body would soon follow. She crossed her arms over her chest, wishing she’d put on socks.

  “You.” Bastian winked and sat on the kitchen counter, his long legs dangling as he leaned against the cabinet doors.

  “Perhaps I asked the wrong question." She pointed to the fridge. “What would you like to eat, Bastian?”

  “Oh, you meant food. Hmmm.” He hopped down and stepped toward the fridge. “Why don’t you let me worry about that?”

  “Bastian—”

  “I know you can cook. You’re probably good at it, too, but I’d like to fix your dinner, and I’m not going to take no for an answer. Go sit.” He grabbed her shoulders so she faced the living room and lightly smacked her rear.

  Kaylee stepped toward the door. “Did anyone ever tell you what a pain in the ass you are?”

  “Frequently.” Bastian opened the refrigerator and scouted the contents. He opened one of the crisper drawers and found onions, mushrooms, and tomatoes she’d failed to mention. He took out the vegetables and set them on the counter. Searching the drawer further, he also found an amorphous green mass speckled with mold.

  “What was this?” He held the clear plastic bag by the very tip.

  “Cucumber, I think.” Blushing, Kaylee peered at the bag from all directions.

  “I would have guessed that. Yum. Were you trying to grow a fungus farm?” He peered at the bag once more and frowned. He walked to the trash can and threw the bagged cucumber inside. “I hope you weren’t saving that.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. Kaylee stood in the doorway. “Bastian?”

  “Yeah?” He pulled open the utensil drawer with a squeak to find a paring knife. That could use some WD-40, he thought.

  “Thank you.” She laid her head against the dark wood.

  “For what?” Bastian looked into Kaylee’s eyes.

  “Everything.” Without waiting for his reply, she slipped into the living room, leaving him staring at the place she’d stood.

  “Any time,” he whispered and closed his eyes. “Any time at all, Kaylee.”

  Kaylee walked over to the window and peered out at the snow that still fell in huge flakes that swirled in the northern wind. She folded her arms tightly in front of her chest. The sight of the snow made her cold, but she was glad of it for one reason: her gaze happened upon Bastian’s truck, or rather the white outline of it, buried beneath nearly two feet of snow. He wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while. And even after the snow had melt
ed, she wondered if it would start.

  As she continued to stare at the perfection of the winter storm, she saw a salt truck drive past the road in front of the house. The vehicle moved slowly, and its flashers blinked repeatedly.

  The telephone rang. Kaylee glared at the old-fashioned, gold-trimmed phone on the table.

  It rang a second time.

  “Aren’t you going to answer that?” Bastian shouted from the kitchen.

  “No,” Kaylee snapped, still glaring.

  Bastian, holding a dish towel, walked into the room. “You afraid it’s your boyfriend?”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend, smartass.” Kaylee placed her hands on her hips.

  “Then what does that make me?” Twirling the towel between his two hands, he snapped one end at Kaylee’s rear.

  The phone rang a third time.

  Kaylee dodged the towel and glared at him. “A million things I can’t put into words. A boyfriend just isn’t one of them.”

  It rang a fourth time before the answering machine finally picked up: “This is Kaylee. I’m not here right now. Please leave the usual info and I‘ll get back to you.” The machine beeped and then came another voice: “Kaylee, darling, are you there? Pick up the phone, dear. Kaylee?” She paused, and there was a thick silence. Kaylee looked up at the ceiling and sighed, waiting. A moment later, the voice said, “I guess you’re not in. You’ve been out quite a bit. I doubt you’re getting enough rest. Give your mother a break. Call me. Let me know how your little art business is doing. I know it’s so important to you. Are you taking care of yourself? Are you eating right? Paris is beautiful, darling. I’ll call you soon. Bye.”

  “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.