A Forever Christmas(53)

Angel was still carrying on her silent debate the following late afternoon when she stopped by the sheriff’s office again, this time with a filled-to-the-brim basket of her freshly fried chicken.

And then she finally decided, while watching Gabe polish off a second piece of the fried chicken, to wait with her news.

She wanted to pick just the right moment. The right moment to tell him she was pregnant.

She could hardly believe it herself. She’d gone to the town’s only doctor, telling him that she just didn’t feel “quite right.” He’d suggested a full exam, just to rule out a few things. When he’d finished, he ran one final, simple test “just to be sure.” And then he was. When he’d told her the results, that she was pregnant, she was stunned—and she couldn’t stop smiling.

Ordinarily it might have been news that would have given her pause had Gabe not been Gabe. Had he been more like other men—men she had a feeling had crossed her path even though she couldn’t summon anything concrete to back up her hunch—she would have been hesitant to mention this latest development because he might have viewed it as coming across like entrapment.

But Gabe had made it very clear to her that he cared about her, really cared about her. And besides, she wasn’t going to attach any stipulations or requirements to her news. If there were steps to be taken after Gabe knew, well, they’d discuss it, both sides of it, later.

Angel was absolutely convinced that this was something good and perfect. Otherwise, why would she feel like singing constantly?

She’d even caught herself humming once or twice.

Like now.

And so had Gabe. He’d noticed the even more upbeat air than usual about her. Angel had been becoming steadily happier, he felt, but this wasn’t just another small step in that direction. More like a giant leap.

“You look like the cat that swallowed the canary,” he observed, reaching for yet a third piece of fried chicken. “Something up?”

She wanted to talk about this when they were alone and the setting was right. Much as she liked the people he worked with—as well as, she silently added, most of the town—she wanted this to be a private exchange between the two of them first. Then if he wanted to, they could shout it from the town square together. Or keep it their little secret a little while longer.

She was up for whatever he wanted to do.

“No, no canary,” Angel replied. “Some chicken, maybe, but no canary.” She looked around the office. Everyone was eating, but that could have been just because they were very hungry. “By the way, is it all right? The chicken,” she prompted, realizing that her question had sounded a little vague.

“All right?” Rick echoed with a grin as he dug into the container she’d brought. It was practically empty. “It’s so far above ‘all right’ I don’t think they’ve even invented a word for it yet.” He paused as he took the first bite of the latest piece he’d just scored. “How did you learn how to cook like this?” he marveled.

Angel shook her head, a helpless, mystified expression on her face. “I have absolutely no idea,” she admitted.

For a second, he’d forgotten that she still had amnesia. She’d become such a fixture in the town so quickly, it was easy at times to forget how she’d come to be here in the first place. “Right. Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to—”

Angel wouldn’t allow him to finish. She knew he hadn’t meant to make her uncomfortable. If anything, everyone had gone out of their way to make her feel comfortable here, as if she belonged. As far as she was concerned, she belonged here far more than she did wherever it was that she came from.

“That’s okay,” she interrupted. “I know what you mean.” She glanced at the swiftly depleting supply of food she’d brought. “Well, there was enough here for seconds and maybe thirds. If you want any more once that’s empty, just give Miss Joan a call. I think there’s still a little leftover at the diner.”

Joe laughed softly, shaking his head. “Not if Harry’s there,” he commented, mentioning Miss Joan’s husband. “The man really loves his fried chicken.”

“Can’t imagine anyone not loving this,” Alma chimed it, indicating the all-but-denuded leg she was holding. “So, I take it that Miss Joan’s hiring you to take Eduardo’s place,” she asked in between bites to polish off what was left of the piece—her third—she was holding.