Angel Wings (13 page)

“What did you say?”

“I can get you another—”

“No, you called me . . . Jessi.” The way Gabe did.

He smiled, the same way Gabe did, and laughter filled his eyes. “You look like a Jessi,” he said. “Do you want me to call you Jessibelle?”

“No, I mean, when you said my name . . . you reminded me of someone.”

He nodded. “I know what you mean. You look familiar to me too. Sometimes it just feels like you’ve met someone before.”

He finished piling the white linen into the center of the table. “Anyway, I was going to get another drink and then I thought . . . Would you like to go for a walk with me?”

She stared at him. At her Gabe. And she didn’t know what to think. Could this really be happening?

“I guess not,” he said, shrugging in that endearing shy way. He turned to go.

She touched his arm, felt the solid strength of him, and the world righted itself. “I’d love to,” she said. “I’d love to walk with you.”

He smiled and held out his hand. She put her hand in his, and together they left the wedding.

About the Author

When I was a child, I shared a bedroom with three of my younger sisters. I used to tell them stories to help them fall asleep. Apparently the stories weren’t particularly interesting, because they fell asleep before the stories ended. Unaware that they were sleeping, I would keep telling the story, until my mother called up the stairs. “Sue? They’ve gone to sleep.” And then I would quietly finish the story in my head.

I didn’t start writing down my stories until much later. In my last year of university, I collected all the reports from my Marketing Group and wrote up our study like a novel. My classmates liked it, and better, so did the prof.

Finally, after getting a degree in Commerce, I found a little two-line invitation to a romance writers organization in the back of the Writers Guild magazine. And I showed up. I had found my people.

“Suzanne Stengl has a lovely voice with a subtle hint of humor.”

—A.M. Westerling, author of The Countess’ Lucky Charm

“Suzanne Stengl’s descriptions and characters are really memorable.”

—Amy Jo Fleming, author of Death at Bandit Creek

Find more books by Suzanne Stengl at:

www.suzannestengl.com

Reviews: The Ghost and Christie McFee

When Christie McFee reads about the gold hidden at the bottom of Lost Lake, she decides to put some adventure in her life by diving for treasure. But when she meets Gaven St. Michel, the Divemaster on
La Bonne Aventure
, she starts to think that treasure can be whatever you want it to be.

If only Christie could figure out how to deal with the two ghosts who are haunting her—one of them wants her help, and the other wants her dead.

Reviews

The main characters are likeable, the romance is sweet, and the more serious moments are contrasted with a winning light humor. It’s clear the author is an experienced diver, because the underwater treasure hunting scenes are expertly told. And the descriptions – beautiful.

—
Roxy Boroughs, author of Crazy for Cowboy

Her descriptions of the underwater ghost town are fascinating. Her characters are well drawn with compelling pasts and the plot is engaging and fast paced. Of course this story is also a romance (of the sweet variety) and was very satisfying.

—D.L. Snow, author of the Thief of Hearts trilogy

I loved Christie McFee, the heroine, who arrives in Bandit Creek with an agenda that starts out with her first dive. Throughout the story, author Suzanne Stengl skillfully uncovers the heroine’s troubled past, reveals many of Bandit Creek’s secrets and mysteries, and creates a lovely blend of humor, suspense, and mystery.

— Sheila Seabrook, author of Wedding Fever

Ms Stengl’s use of detailed description puts the reader in the center of the underwater diving scenes and provides an unexpected and eerie setting for the ghostly appearances. This is an enjoyable read for any fans of romance and for everyone who has ever enjoyed hearing ghost stories around a campfire.

—Brenda M. Collins, author of Witch in the Wind

Just finished reading your book – loved it – you are an amazing writer – once I got started I could not stop reading.

—JM Carron

Now turn the page for an excerpt from The Ghost and Christie McFee.

The Ghost and Christie McFee

by

Suzanne Stengl

Chapter One – excerpt

The gold had lain at the bottom of Lost Lake for over a hundred years, tempting treasure hunters and smashing dreams. Rumors had spread about the lost gold shipment and divers had perished searching for it. With each year that passed, the strength of the legend had grown, bringing new hopefuls, more
freak
accidents, and more deaths.

Ethel Hamilton tucked a pin into the bun that held her hair, adjusted her hat and shook out her long skirts. Then she picked up the sandy piece of newspaper and watched the young man come out of the dive shack. He walked across the beach toward the dock.

She looked at the newspaper and, one more time, she read the headline printed on the first page of the Bandit Creek Gazette.
Diver almost drowns searching for Lost Lake treasure.
She dropped the paper, letting it fall back on the beach.

It was time she did something about that gold.

· · · · ·

Gaven St. Michel saw the loose page of newspaper fluttering across the beach. He caught it, tossed it in the trash can and walked onto the dock to wait for the divers to board
La Bonne Aventure
.

Some days he hated the tourists. But they were his job, at least for the summer. He didn’t have to do this for the rest of his life.

He looked at his clipboard and saw seven names. Charlie had booked them yesterday . . . and checked their credentials.

Except, sometimes, Charlie skimped on the credentials. His Uncle Charlie was always glad for the money from the tourists and he never wanted to turn anyone away. But some of these people had no business being on a dive boat. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be any situations this morning.

They were coming out of the dive shack now, carrying their personal gear. The wet suits, air tanks, BCDs and regulators were already on the boat.

An older couple approached first—the couple from Missoula. They looked to be in their late fifties. They’d dived in lots of places, most recently last February in the Galapagos, so they were obviously experienced and wouldn’t be a problem. He’d help them with their time and depth limits since they probably weren’t used to diving at altitude.

A younger couple followed, holding hands. The newlyweds from Seattle. They were not as experienced but they’d had the basic PADI courses.

Ripley and Terrence trailed behind the newlyweds. The teenage boys from Bandit Creek. He’d taken them out several times already this summer. Those kids would be Divemasters before too long.

He greeted the divers and sent them to get ready. That was six of them. There was supposed to be a seventh—a woman from San Francisco. He glanced at his clipboard.

Christie McFee, the last name on the list. No experience was listed, but Charlie had scribbled one word.
Trained
.

Gaven clenched his jaw. That meant Charlie had taken her to the pool at the Community Center. He would have given her a brief orientation there. That was all. Warm water and perfect conditions.

Please God, don’t let today be her first open water experience. Not a hot August morning in a seven mil wet suit.

He’d have to buddy with her, which meant his attention would be pulled from the group.

But the boys, Ripley and Terrence, had done the dive to the Old Town before. They’d be able to help with guiding. And Gaven would be able to keep an eye on the new diver.

He glanced at his watch. A few minutes past nine. Maybe she wouldn’t show up?

No such luck. He saw the white Chevy Cobalt pull into the dirt parking lot beside Charlie’s Dive Shack. A Missoula Airport sticker decorated the rear window of the car.

According to his clipboard, the woman lived in San Francisco, by the coast. Why not learn to dive there? Why had she come all the way to Lost Lake to do her first dive?

He shook his head. It wasn’t his job to figure out why the tourists did what they did. His job was to keep them safe while they did it.

And if he hadn’t needed the money, he wouldn’t be here.

The driver’s door opened and an attractive young woman stepped out of the car, wearing sunglasses, a loose, long sleeved top, baggy shorts and sandals.

She was about five foot six, maybe five seven. Her long brown hair wisped around her shoulders and, judging by the tan on those long legs, she’d been outdoors a lot this summer. Beneath the baggy clothes, she looked shapely, but . . . thin. Maybe a little too thin, like she’d recently been sick.

He couldn’t read her expression. She looked like she was holding on to her feelings, keeping them tight. At any rate, she didn’t seem particularly excited about this trip.

Carrying a net bag of mask, snorkel and fins, she stepped onto the dock, with her attention focused on the other divers who were pulling on their neoprene.

“Good morning,” he said. “I’m Gaven St. Michel. I’m your Divemaster.”

“I . . . I don’t want to wear a wet suit.”

Not very friendly. No telling him her name. Not even a
good morning
. “You’re Christie McFee?”

“Yes. But nobody said anything about wearing a wet suit. It’s too hot.”

He heard his sigh, a loud one, and right at this moment he didn’t care about putting on his public face. “You’re up in the mountains, lady. The water is sixty-three degrees. You wear neoprene.”

She gulped and her tanned face seemed to pale. “One of those hoods too?”

“If you want to be comfortable. We’ll be down about forty minutes.”

“I . . . I don’t like the hoods. They feel claustrophobic.”

Somebody’d put her up to this. Somebody wanted her to learn to dive. Never a good scenario. “Have you ever dived before?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“In Bandit Creek. In the pool. With that guy from the store.”

Great. Why did Charlie do this to him? “How much do you weigh?”

“What?”

“Nothing personal. You need weights, remember? I need to know what to put on your weight belt.”

She looked confused. “Ah, in the pool, he gave me—”

“The neoprene is buoyant. You need more weight than you did in the pool.”

She nodded, like she’d just remembered that much. And then she told him how much she weighed.

He was right. She
was
too thin. He wanted to ask her if she’d been sick, but he didn’t. Instead he said, “Tell me the five steps before entry.”

He saw her go inside her head, pull out the information, and recite the steps. She knew them. Intellectually, at least.

“You’re out of air.”

“I am?”

He paused, wondering if she was for real. Maybe Charlie had sent her as a test. “
If
you are out of air,” Gaven said. “Give me the hand signal.”

She gave him the correct hand signal.

He quizzed her on a few more hand signals. She seemed ready and she was probably safe enough, but for some reason, he had a bad feeling about this.

“I’m your buddy. Stay close to me. No more than six feet. Come on.”

Gaven walked down the dock and stepped onto the boat. Then he turned and waited for her to board. She was looking for something to hold on to. She’d probably never been on a boat.

He held out his hand to help her and she put her small hand in his. The air temperature was already over eighty, but her hand felt cold.

He guided her to a bench beside the Seattle newlyweds and she sat. Then he found his smallest wet suit and brought it to her. “Put it on.”

She paused a moment, like she wanted to argue. And then she accepted it.

Right. It was definitely not her idea to go diving. Someone had put her up to it. Or, maybe it was one of those bucket list things? Something she’d decided she had to do in her lifetime. Except, most people didn’t make a bucket list until they were a lot older than she was. She was too young for a bucket list.

It was something else.

· · · · ·

“Yo!”

Charlie ambled down to the dock, eating a ham sandwich. With all the fat he’d accumulated over the years, his Uncle Charlie Beauregard could probably last down there for an hour without a wet suit.