The Trouble with Angels

Page 30

However, as Maureen looked back over her life since the divorce, she was forced to admit how much better off she and Karen were without her ex-husband.

"And since the divorce?”

Karen’s nightmares had been much better since she’d started the horseback riding. But Maureen was well aware that a few lessons weren’t the cure-all to Karen’s troubles. It was just that she couldn’t afford counseling on top of everything else.

"And since,” Maureen repeated, "she’s doing all right.”

"All right?”

"She needs counseling. For that matter, so do I.”

"It helped me tremendously after Pam died.”

"You had counseling?”

Thom’s hands gripped the mug. "I’m not ashamed to admit I needed it.”

Maureen knew from previous conversations that Thom had been deeply in love with his wife. From what he’d told her about his marriage, it had sounded ideal, almost too good to be true.

"The counseling helped.”

"I’m sure it did.” She stared into the murky depths of her own coffee.

"As strange as it may seem, I had to work hard at forgiving Pam for dying.”

"Forgiving her?”

"I know that must sound unreasonable. At the time I couldn’t justify my feelings. One night shortly after the funeral, I was cooking dinner and the potatoes boiled onto the stove. It was a little thing, but I was so angry I damn near put my fist through the wall.”

"Angry? But why?”

"If Pam had been there, it never would have happened. I wouldn’t be coming in from the barn and left to deal with dinner for Paula and me. It’d be on the table.” His smile was filled with a wry sadness. "In my heart I know Pam didn’t want to die any more than we wanted her to, but I still had to learn to forgive her.” Thom raised the coffee mug to his lips and hesitated. "It might help you.”

"What might?”

"Forgiving Brian.”

Maureen stared at him, hardly able to believe what he’d said. "Forgive Brian? You’ve got to be kidding.”

It might have been Joy’s imagination, but even the air seemed to chill between her and Ted, trapped as they were in the elevator.

He hadn’t spoken in ten minutes or longer. Those minutes were probably the most intense of Joy’s life. Her legs were growing tired, and she wondered just how much longer it would take for the electricity to return so she could escape these uncomfortable circumstances. She wondered what had happened to cause the outage; her fears mounted.

"You can sit on my jacket if you like,” Ted suggested, breaking the quiet.

"I’m fine,” she returned, and then, because it had been a generous thing to do, she added, "Thanks for the offer, though.”

A silence, then, "You’re welcome.”

Joy smiled into the darkness, and she had the distinct impression that Ted was grinning, too, although she had no way of knowing if that were so.

The elevator car remained pitch-black. It amazed her how much she could feel in the dark. How alive her senses were, sharing this compact space with him. Ted was as far removed from her as was humanly possible. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, feel the heavy thud of his heartbeat.

"I wish I had a match,” she said, thinking out loud. The lack of light was dangerous to her emotional well-being. Already she was moving closer to him, mentally, if not physically. After fifteen minutes alone with him, she was thinking that her steadfast rule about dating a man involved with someone else should be more of a guideline.

"Matches,” Ted repeated. "Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the bogeyman?”

"No. Well, maybe a little,” she conceded.

It grew tiresome to stand after a while, and her feet were beginning to hurt. "If you don’t mind, I’ll take you up on that offer,” she said.

"The coat or the date?”

"The coat.”

"Damn,” he muttered.

Joy could hear the laughter in his voice. She wished she didn’t find it so easy to smile when she was with him. A rustling sound followed as he removed his suit coat and spread it on the floor.

"It seems a shame to dirty your jacket.”

"There’s nothing here the dry cleaners can’t remove.”

Fumbling with her hands to find her way, Joy lowered herself onto his suit jacket. She sat with her legs scooted to one side and her weight leveled onto one arm.

Sitting, she soon discovered, meant being close was unavoidable. She didn’t need their shoulders to touch to feel his presence. He was there, bigger than life.

"I apologize for snapping at you,” she said, regretting her earlier behavior. It wasn’t his fault the electricity had gone out, although she would have been happy to blame him.

"My temperament wasn’t any better,” he admitted, and then with regret added, "What’s happened to us, Joy? We used to be friends, remember? Good friends. I’ve never enjoyed an evening more than the one I spent at the Lakers game with you.”