Angel Song (29 page)
“Ms. Fletcher? I just spoke with our roadside assistance crew. They’re finishing up a job near you and will be there within a half hour.”
“I need someone here now.” Even as she said the words, Ann knew they weren’t logical. Even if mechanics showed up right now, the chances of her making the plane were slim to none.
“I’ll let them know you are in a hurry.”
“Thanks.” Ann hung up the phone in defeat. She supposed she might as well call the airline and see if she could switch to a later flight.
She went back inside the house. No reason to sit outside in this sweltering heat to make the calls. Then she thought about her phone battery being almost dead. Sarah didn’t have a land-line at her house.
But Tammy did.
How could she possibly go over to that house and ask for a favor? Tammy would probably welcome her like always, but Ann didn’t want to face her again.
Unfortunately, she had no other choice.
She walked across the lawn and knocked, rehearsing what she’d say. Something like, “I know I was really rude yesterday, but do you think I could make a toll-free call?” Yeah, that sounded about right.
When Tammy opened the door, a broad smile across her face, everything Ann had rehearsed fled from her mind. “Hi.”
“Oh, Ann, I was hoping you’d come over and say good-bye before you left today. I just hoped you would. You’ve been on my mind all morning, and I’ve been worried that something was wrong.”
“Well, if you consider the fact that my car won’t start and I’m going to miss my plane as something wrong, then I’d say you’re exactly right.”
“Oh, do you need a ride to the airport? I could”—she glanced back toward Keith’s room—“take you.”
And Ann knew that she would. She knew that Tammy would go wake him up, load him into the car, and make sure Ann got to the airport. Keith would even be happy about it. But she couldn’t let them do that. “No, that’s okay. I’ve got to wait for the car rental people anyway. I was wondering, though, if I could borrow your phone? My cell’s about to die, and I need to call the airlines and see if I can get a later flight.”
“Oh, of course you can. It’s right here.”
She handed Ann a portable handset and said, “I’ll just be in the sewing room. You come get me if you need anything.”
“Thanks.” Ann couldn’t help but wonder what Tammy was working on today—a southern belle gown? Frilly curtains? The ache she felt surprised her yet again.
She needed to focus on her life in New York, on getting back in town tonight in time for her dinner with Patrick Stinson. Too many people were depending on her.
Five minutes later she was off the phone, having managed quite easily to switch to a flight that left two hours after her original, although the $150 change fee hurt. Ann peeked around the door and saw that Tammy was sewing a black square of cloth. “Thank you, Tammy.”
Tammy started at the sound of Ann’s voice, then quickly stood in front of the sewing machine, blocking it from view. “You’re welcome.” She walked toward the door and towed Ann out of the room.
“What is that?” Ann turned her head toward the sewing room, pulled by the magnetic force of something Tammy was obviously hiding.
“Just something I’m working on. Were you able to get your flight changed?”
“Yeah, there’s a flight a couple of hours later.” She pointed back toward the sewing room. “Something you’re working on, like what?”
“Just something.”
“Come on, I’ve never seen you this secretive. Spill.”
Tammy dropped her restraining hand from Ann’s arm. “Oh, it’s a square pillow, if you must know.”
“Black? That doesn’t seem like something you usually do.”
“It’s not. I’m . . . well, I’m making this for you. Ethan told me that you preferred black and white, so I was thinking you might want something like that for your home in New York, and I was going to surprise you with it the next time you came, and now you’ve already seen it so it won’t be a surprise.”
Ann’s throat closed. She threw her arms around Tammy and hugged her as tightly as she’d ever hugged anyone. “I wish I were more deserving of the friendship you’ve given me. Keith too.”
“Sweetie, you need to open your eyes. The rest of us see what you don’t—or won’t. You are a wonderful woman, made by God to be just the way you are, completely loved and worthy of being loved.” Tammy finally pulled away from the hug. “Since you’ve got a little extra time, let’s see if Keith’s awake. I know he’d want to see you before you leave.”
Tammy walked quietly toward Keith’s room and opened the door, then motioned for Ann to come in. Keith was partially sitting, propped up on several pillows, his face pale. He smiled at her. “Hi, Annie.”
“Hey, buddy, how are you feeling?”
“I’m all right.” He took a couple of deep breaths. “I don’t want you to leave.”
Ann looked at his sweet face and struggled for something she could say that would make him feel better. Since she couldn’t change her mind about leaving, she brought up the one subject she knew would cheer him. “Have your angels been singing to you lately?”
“Yeah.” He smiled and closed his eyes.
After a few moments, Ann figured he was asleep and kissed his forehead, then turned to leave.
“Did you hear them in the car?”
“What?” Ann wheeled around.
“In your car. I saw them over there. I thought they must be singing.”
Ann looked toward the car through Keith’s bedroom window. Then she looked back at Keith.
Angels don’t exist
, she reminded herself.
And if they did, then why wouldn’t they just make my car start?
It was just Keith’s imagination. He’d seen her in the car, the light reflecting off the windshield, that was all. She put her hand on his forehead and ruffled his hair. “I didn’t hear them in my car, but if I do, you’ll be the first one I tell. Deal?”
“Deal.”
She saw the service vehicle pull up in her driveway. “I’ve got to go. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks, okay?” So much for making a clean break here. She felt almost like a junkie who wanted to leave a bad habit. She just couldn’t do it.
“’Kay.” He was asleep before he got the word out.
Ann boarded the plane at two thirty. She glanced at her watch for the twentieth time, which did nothing to change the hour. She would land a little before five and make it to her apartment by just after six, assuming everything went smoothly. That would give her half an hour before she needed to leave for the cab ride to the restaurant.
She stared out the window, watching men in blue uniforms loading luggage onto the plane beside hers. There were duffels and suitcases and golf clubs and strollers. Happy people taking happy trips, perhaps going to visit someone they loved, the family they cherished. Ann didn’t have any family to cherish anymore. As for people she loved . . . well, it didn’t matter. Anyone she’d want to be loved by didn’t really love
her
, so what was the point in even thinking about it?
When her thoughts returned to the present, she wondered why the plane hadn’t pushed back from the gate yet. She looked at her watch: 2:50. They were scheduled to depart five minutes ago; all the passengers were seated, yet the plane didn’t move. Ann pulled a magazine from the seat pocket in front of her and began to flip mindlessly through the articles about exotic destinations and the travel recommendations of several A-list celebrities. She forced herself to read an article about the best restaurants in Paris, although she’d likely never set foot in France. She concluded that
Reynaud’s
sounded like a place she’d like to try if she ever did get to Paris.
She put the magazine back into the seat pocket and looked at her watch: 2:55. “Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the delay. Unfortunately, we’ve had to call maintenance about an issue and it may take a few minutes for them to get here. We will keep you updated. Please remain seated with your seat belts fastened, and we will depart as soon as it is possible to safely do so.”
A collective groan sounded through the plane. Ann sat back in her seat and closed her eyes, trying to think of anything but being on this airplane. Definitely not about where she was going—or what she was leaving.
The speakers crackled back to life. “The maintenance crew has diagnosed the problem and I’m happy to report they will be able to fix it shortly. Within a half hour we should be under way.”
Ann looked at her watch again. She was going to be late for dinner with Patrick Stinson. She pulled out her cell phone, pushed the power button, and nothing happened. Then she remembered the warning beeps earlier in the day. The battery was dead.
Great. Just great. She could imagine how well this was going to go over. As soon as they landed at Newark she’d find a payphone and call. Except . . . Patrick Stinson’s number was programmed into her cell phone, which was currently dead. She could call her office from there, she supposed, but didn’t want to start any gossip when they found out she was meeting Patrick after hours. If Beka got wind of it, she would know something was going on and would hound Ann until she got an answer, an answer she wouldn’t like. And Margaret . . . her sixth sense would be all over the potential future business partnership between Ann and Patrick. No, she wouldn’t be able to do anything until she got home and got to her charger.
Of all the times for this to happen, why now? A messed-up plane, a dead cell, and a car that wouldn’t start, all in the course of one afternoon. It was as if the whole universe had teamed up against her to make certain that nothing went right. The universe or . . . ? She refused to finish the thought.
Ann arrived at her apartment at seven thirty, half an hour after she was supposed to meet Patrick Stinson. She plugged her cell into the charger and looked for messages. There weren’t any, not even a missed call. This hit her as a rather ominous sign.
She punched in his number, which went straight to his voice mail. At the beep, she said, “This is Ann Fletcher. My plane arrived an hour and a half late. My cell phone was dead. I am so sorry I wasn’t able to reach you earlier and let you know that I wouldn’t make our dinner. I will apologize personally tomorrow morning when I see you in the office. Again, I truly am sorry.” She hung up the phone, feeling more relief than regret. For tonight, at least, she wouldn’t have to make a decision about the future.
She poured herself a big glass of white wine and collapsed at her table. Then she realized that the night was still early. If he checked his messages, one return call could still move this evening’s events forward—even if a little behind schedule.
Ann thought about what was at stake. So many things, so many people, an entire company. Yet was the alternative any better? There weren’t easy answers for her. There never had been.
She held up her cell phone, took a deep breath, and pushed the power button. For tonight anyway, her decision was made.
Ann could see Sarah and knew instinctively that she was watching Sarah’s last
breath. A giant ball of a shining octopuslike being hovered over Sarah, doing nothing,
simply watching. Then the octopus was at Ann’s car, once again just watching
the disaster unfold. It didn’t make sense. If the octopus was at her car, then why
wouldn’t the car start? And why had Sarah died? Couldn’t the octopus do anything?
Didn’t it have any power to change things? If not, what was his purpose
?
Ann jerked awake, still hearing strains of music. Strange, she hadn’t heard the song during the dream, but now each note thrummed inside her, despite the fact that it seemed to be coming from far away. It slowly faded and she forced herself to her feet, scrubbing her hands across her face. Time to get up and get going. There was much to be done this morning.
She turned on her cell phone and punched in the number for Patrick Stinson. He answered on the second ring. “Well, my, my, who could this be calling so early?”
“It’s Ann.” Obviously he already knew that, but the answer popped out. “I’m sorry I missed our dinner last night. My plane was late, and my cell was dead. It was a perfect storm of every imaginable catastrophe.”
The silence buzzed through the phone line as a siren sounded from the street below. “I see. So you’re telling me you were more than willing to be there last night, but travel issues kept you away?”
“Yes, it was travel issues.”
“Hmm, I see. What do you think we should do about it then?”
Ann walked into her little kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator. “I’m sure we can work something out.” She took a sip of water, then looked at the drawings that covered her refrigerator—full of Keith, Ann, and angels. She thought of Keith’s comment that the angel had been beside her car. That’s when she knew the answer to the questions from her dream.
The angel’s purpose—for her at least—had been to keep her from doing something she would’ve regretted. Well, he’d saved her once, and now it was Ann’s turn to decide what she would do with the temporary reprieve.
“I think we should meet at the office this morning as planned, get those contracts signed, and then sit down and discuss whatever it was you wanted to talk about last night. In fact, I think we should do the majority of our meetings at the office from now on.”
“Well, where’s the fun in that? I like to work with people on a more personal level, and you can’t do that in an office.”
Ann was trapped, and she needed to decide at exactly what point she was going to claw herself out of here. Not a single person who knew her would ever use the word
prude
in describing her, but she did have her boundaries, and this definitely crossed them. It both surprised and relieved her to realize this. She braced herself for his reaction. She knew it was going to cost her, but while she wasn’t a prude, she wasn’t a harlot either.
“Mr. Stinson, if casual lunches make it easier for you to work with me, then that’s fine, but anything beyond that, well . . . you can count me out.”
“I see.” He paused for only a second. “All right then. I’m glad to know you feel that way. It’s best to know what to expect when starting a new partnership. It’s good to get these things settled up front.”
