Quiet Angel (17 page)

He moved his hands to the dog’s ears. “I’m tired of snuggling.”

“Poppy calls this the ‘snuggle screw.’”

“Huh?”

“When a guy tries to turn snuggling into screwing.”

“The whole point of snuggling is to get to the screwing.”

“Pig,” she said and let out a huge yawn. “And don’t talk like that in front of Pippa.”

“My Angel is tired.”

“I’m sorry. This is all so wonderful what you’ve done. It’s just my period. I get really bad cramps.”

“Have you seen a doctor?”

“I have some pain pills, but I don’t like to take them.”

“Can I do anything?”

She shook her head and scanned all the animals in the room. “Can you stay a little later in the morning?” Gage nodded. “Good, because I have an idea for some of my other pets.”

*

Gage fidgeted with
his phone then shoved his hands in his pockets, hoping to calm his nerves or at least stop fidgeting. He was growing a bit stir crazy without sex, and nothing was going to happen with Layla on her period. And now he was in the last place he ever thought he’d be—the lobby of Hope Cottage. He didn’t know what to say or do, whether to make eye contact with the girls coming in and out. He decided it was best to just keep his head down. They all probably hated men anyway.

It was sweet Layla was donating the stuffed animals to the girls. But she needed to finish soon. He had a plane to catch back to Atlanta. He picked up a few brochures. Hope Cottage touted itself as one of the most successful centers in the country, treating patients from nearly every state with outpatient services; individual therapy; art, music, and movement therapies; and an inpatient program for girls suffering from eating disorders or cutting behavior. The strand connecting them all was that the girls were sexually assaulted or molested.

An office door opened, and a lady with curly gray hair came out. “You must be Gage? I’m Sarah. I’m the Director here. This is so generous what you and Layla are doing.”

“Layla gets all the credit.”

“I hope you understand why you can’t go back. Some of our girls are, well, in a sensitive place.”

“It’s no problem,” Gage said then pointed to a picture on the wall of a young nun.

“That’s me,” Sarah said. “I wasted my hot years in the convent.”

“So you’re not a nun anymore?”

“No, I renounced my vows after the abuse scandal in the Church.”

“I know Layla has a hard time reconciling being Catholic and an abuse survivor.”

“Layla’s a special woman. She gives so much to the center.”

“Layla has a huge heart. She always thinks of others before herself. Sometimes, I wish she’d take care of herself first.”

Sarah smiled. “From what I see, she’s doing a pretty good job taking care of herself.”

Gage wasn’t going to argue with an ex-nun doing God’s work. “How many girls do you treat?”

“Inpatient about 50. Sadly, I turn girls away every week. The money Layla recently gave us was stunning and will help tremendously. But we will still have to turn girls away. Hopefully not as many, but some.”

“Don’t turn them away. Call me, and I’ll cover the cost.”

Sarah looked him up and down. “You’re not fooling an old lady, are you?”

“No, and I’ll sponsor flights for any girls traveling to the center who can’t afford it.”

“Flights?”

Gage pulled out his business card. “I own Southern Wings.”

Sarah leaped into his arms. “Oh my goodness! Really? That’s so generous! You have no idea how much this will help our families!”

“I’m happy to do it. Just let me know,” he said. “I’ll leave word with my secretary, Mary, if you can’t get me.”

Sarah released her grip then dried her eyes. “You know, we only have so much space. I sometimes turn girls away because of space. If we accept everyone, we’ll have space issues.”

“Well, you call me if you need anything. And let’s just keep this between you and me. There’s no reason for Layla to know.”

*

Layla spent another
30 minutes at Hope Cottage, which made it impossible for Gage to make his flight back to Atlanta. He had a lot of work to do, conference calls and virtual meetings throughout the morning that he couldn’t take in the air. Layla assured him Story Wings had a good wireless connection, so if he wanted, he could set up shop there.

Gage went about handling his calls and meetings from the cafe area. He didn’t know, but Layla would sometimes peek in to make sure he was fine. She didn’t want to disturb him. She’d listen from behind a bookshelf. She had no idea what he was talking about but loved just hearing the direct way he spoke, the cool and confident sound of his voice, like nothing ever rattled him. But one time she was startled hearing him pound away on his computer and bark on his phone.

“Mary,” Gage said, “I know they want to talk to me. Tell them the offer is generous. But tell them I haven’t made a decision yet.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I know, Mary. I’m looking at their emails now. I’ve been looking at them for weeks. Put them off!” He paused and dropped his head in his hands. “I’m sorry if I’m taking this out on you, Mary. They’re just driving me crazy. I’ll be back in the office tomorrow.”

He looked up to find Layla in front of him, her arms crossed, her foot tapping, and quickly hung up. “You’re scaring my petite-sized customers,” she said.

“I’m sorry.”

“You can walk over to my place if you need more privacy.”

“It’s not that.”

“I think he’s on his period!” Poppy called out from behind the counter.

“Maybe so,” Layla wondered.

Gage laughed. “Man period?”

“Yeah, symptoms include irritability,” Poppy said.

“Check,” Layla said.

“Inconsiderate and childish behavior,” Poppy added.

“Check,” Layla said.

“Not interested in sex,” Poppy wondered.

“
No
check,” Gage said quickly.

“Right, I think that symptom only applies for the female period,” Poppy said. “During the man period, guys still want sex—rough, hard sex.”

“Poppy, keep your voice down!” Layla cried, looking for customers in earshot. “We’re at work!” But Poppy just laughed a hearty laugh and walked to her side of the store.

“I’m not having a man period or whatever,” Gage said.

“You did seem a bit snappish on the phone,” Layla said. “What’s all the fuss about?”

“Oh, just work stuff,” he said. “Some political folks trying to meet with me. They’re very persistent.”

“What about?”

“I’d rather not talk about it. It stresses me out.” Gage pointed to his laptop and phone. “Actually
all
of this stresses me out.”

Layla nodded she understood and took his hand, wondering if the confident, measured Gage was just an act. Maybe so, but there was no doubt the man was good at his job—and consumed by it, too.
I don’t like seeing him this way.

“I mean, it’s my dad’s company,” he said. “I’ve got to take care of it, build it.”

“Your dad wanted you happy.”

“I’m happy
here
.”

“Me, too,” she said and pecked him on the cheek. “Maybe you should try to fly more often. I mean, fly a plane yourself. I know that helps you relax.”

“I’ve been doing that a lot—many hours flying back and forth to see you. Getting to fly so much has been part of the fun of being with you again.”

“That’s good. I don’t want all the back and forth to be a burden.”

“Not at all,” he said. “Have you ever thought about how we both love to fly?”

“You, planes. Me, angels,” she said. “You know, you should try to break away from work today. Have some fun.”

He looked over his calendar full of calls and meetings. “What did you have in mind?”

*

Forsyth Park was
Layla’s favorite spot in the Historic District. She loved the large Parisian-inspired fountain at the north end, a famous destination for both tourists and locals alike, and wasted many afternoons there lost in a book. And now she was walking there with Gage and Pippa, the dog darting around like she’d never seen grass before. It was nice the kids came along, too, though Ava and Jacob had their heads buried in their phones.

Layla looked up at Gage, holding a picnic basket and a bag and bracing Connor on his shoulders. The man had a big smile on his face, and she couldn’t help but smile herself. He’d replaced the weight of work for another kind, a better kind, and she could tell he loved it.
He’ll be a good dad
. They reached a good spot, and Gage dropped the basket and bag and lowered Connor to the ground. Then he plucked the phones from Ava and Jacob.

“Hey!” Ava groaned.

“I was about to beat the game!” Jacob cried, as Gage turned off the phone and put it in his pocket.

Gage ignored him and went to turn off Ava’s phone. “Who’s Justin?” he asked and began to scroll through her text messages.

“Don’t read those,” Ava begged. “That’s private.”

“You shouldn’t be texting a boy anything that’s private,” he said. “It should only be related to homework.”

“It’s summer, Uncle G,” Ava said.

“Then there’s no reason to be texting a boy.” He put her phone in his other pocket. “Does Emerson know about this boy?” Ava looked down.

“You are so busted,” Jacob said, laughing.

“Shut up!” Ava barked.

“I heard her giggling with her friends about him,” Jacob piled on.

“I hate you,” Ava said.

“Don’t fight!” Connor said. “Why does everyone fight all the time?”

Layla bent down to Connor. She found a pink feather on the ground and tickled his arm. “Whenever you find a feather, it means an angel is near.”

Connor smiled. “Do you thinks it’s Aria?”

“Maybe,” she said.

He took the feather from her fingers. “I’ve never seen a pink feather.”

“The angels leave different colors,” she said. “They each mean something different. Pink means the angels are joining in on our fun. White means they are near. Black means there’s something bad happening, and your angel is helping you.”

“Wow,” Connor said. “That’s cool.”

“You know what else is cool?” Layla dug in the bag. “I brought bubbles. And they come in different colors.” Connor’s face lit up, and she handed him the bottle. They went off with Pippa to blow bubbles by the fountain.

“Uncle G,” Ava said quietly, “are you going to tell Mom about the texts? There’s nothing bad.”

“I’m not sure,” Gage said with a smile.

“Oh, come on!” Jacob moaned. “The first time Miss Perfect Ava does anything wrong, and you’re not going to rat on her!” Gage pulled out Jacob’s phone. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“I’m looking at your texts,” Gage said. “Any girls?” He scrolled a bit. “You’re probably too smart to leave them up. You probably delete them.” Gage pressed another button.

“What are you doing now?” Jacob asked nervously.

“Checking your search history. If it’s clean, then I’ll tell on Ava. If it’s not, then I won’t.”

“OK, OK,” Jacob cried and reached for his phone. “Please don’t. . . .”

Gage raised his eyebrows. “I think I found something here. In fact, I think I found a whole lot of somethings.” He looked down at his nephew, beet red and scared.