A Forever Christmas(57)

“Don’t move,” Gabe ordered her, moving back from the ledge.

“Wasn’t really planning on it,” Angel called after him.

Gabe doubled back to fetch the two-way radio. He needed help. Now.

It took him a second to locate where he’d dropped it. His own hands were shaking—not from the cold but from the thought that Angel could have easily died tonight.

Damn it.

Pressing down on the communication button, he hailed Rick. “We’re going to need a rope to pull the boy up from a ledge.” He was getting ahead of himself, he realized. “Angel found Jason,” he told Rick, feeling both proud of her and angry at the same time. Angry that she’d risked her life in order to get to the boy. One wrong move and he’d be putting in a call for a body bag.

He pushed the thought away, unable to handle it right now.

“Hang in there, Gabe, we’re on our way,” Rick told him.

“Hurry” was all he said before he made his way back to the edge of the ledge.

He wasn’t taking any chances. He needed to keep vigil, assuring himself that Angel was all right until they could get her and the boy back on ground that measured more than a foot across.





Chapter Fifteen



The people in town were still talking about it the following day, how Forever’s newest citizen had risked her life and saved Diane Lake’s little boy, Jason.

If Angel believed otherwise, those thoughts were quickly dispelled when she walked into the diner with Gabe at eight the next morning. Rather than just drop her off, the way he’d taken to doing on his way to work, Gabe had decided to come in with her for a minute.

The customers seated at the counter and occupying the tables all turned around, almost in unison, and broke into a round of heartfelt, hearty applause.

Stunned, Angel looked around, fully expecting the applause to be meant for someone coming in behind her.

Except that there wasn’t anyone behind her.

Flustered, she turned her head toward Gabe—away from the customers—and lowering her voice asked, “Why are they applauding?”

Gabe grinned, feeling so proud of her he could burst. “Because the only thing the people around here like better than a hero is a heroine,” he said honestly. He saw the color rising in her cheeks and tried to eliminate her growing discomfort. “Hey, you earned this, Angel. You risked your life—and damn near gave me a heart attack,” he added, “getting that boy off the ledge. Now you get to take a bow.”

“You might as well enjoy it, they’re not about to stop,” Miss Joan told her, coming around the counter and putting a protective arm around her. It was one of the few times that Angel could recall the woman smiling, let alone almost beaming at her. Her arm still around her shoulders, Miss Joan looked at the gathering. “Okay, settle down now. You’re embarrassing her,” she told the people in the diner, her eyes sweeping over each of them individually.

The applause died down—all except for one customer. He was sitting on a stool at the far end of the counter and turned around very slowly now to look knowingly in her direction. Tall, with chestnut-brown hair, the same color as his trim moustache, the man looked to be somewhere in his early forties.

No one recognized him.

He went on clapping, his hands meeting lowly, rhythmically.

“I said you’re embarrassing her,” Miss Joan repeated with emphasis as she glared at the stranger. She was not a woman who backed off, especially when met with opposition.

The man smirked at Miss Joan’s statement. “Oh, she doesn’t embarrass easily,” he told Miss Joan, never taking his eyes off Angel. Except that he didn’t call her that. He called her by another name. “Do you, Dorothy?” he asked.

Vacating his stool, the stranger moved like a panther stalking its prey and came over to where Angel was standing.

“Dorothy?” Gabe echoed.

He didn’t like the looks of the man who sounded as if he was so familiar with Angel’s life. Secretly, he’d been dreading something like this and now that it was happening, it was even worse than he’d imagined.

There’d been a small part of him all along that had whispered, Some things are better left alone. And now he had a gut feeling he knew why.

“That’s her name. Dorothy Mandra,” the stranger said, never taking his eyes off Angel. He moved even closer to her. “What’s the matter, Dorothy? Not glad to see me?” he asked.