A Season of Angels (Angels Everywhere #1)(24)
“I’ll see you to the door,” Jody said. She needn’t have worried about Glen. Timmy led him back into the family room, insisting that he show Glen his baseball card collection. At this rate her dinner date would be there for hours.
“How’d it go?” her mother whispered loud enough to be heard into the next county and certainly the family room.
“Very well,” Jody said, opening the door. She didn’t want to stand in the doorway and carry on a conversation when it was likely Glen could hear every word they were saying.
“Do you like him?”
“Mother.”
“Well, do you?” Helen pressed.
“Yes.”
Her mother threw back her head and shocked Jody out of five years of her life by shouting, “Hallelujah!”
“Mom,” Timmy called from the other room. “Are you coming? Did you know Glen has a signed Ken Griffey, Jr. baseball card?”
“I have to go,” Jody said, grateful to her son for the convenient excuse. This was neither the time nor the place for this intimate conversation with her mother. “I promise I’ll call you after church tomorrow morning.”
“Mom,” Timmy shouted again, “can Glen go to church with us?”
“Ah . . .” Jody glanced from her mother to the other room, not knowing which way to turn.
“Go and talk to Glen and Timmy. We can chat later.” Before Jody could turn away, her mother impulsively reached for her and hugged her. “Everything’s going to be just fine. I can feel it. I’ve waited a good long time for this,” she said and kissed Jody on the cheek with a loud smack.
“Mom.” Timmy raced into the room and grabbed her by the hand, dragging her into the other room. “If Glen comes to church with us, you’ll cook breakfast for him, won’t you? Make something really good, though, okay, because I told him you’re a really fabulous cook.” He lowered his voice substantially, to a soft whisper. “Just don’t serve that liver sausage stuff you did at Christmas, it was yucky.”
“All right, all right,” Jody said, walking into the room. It amazed her how easily Timmy had accepted Glen. Her eyes met Glen’s and he smiled at her. “You’ve got yourself quite a son, Jody. He’s everything you said and more.”
“I like Glen, too,” Timmy announced. “I bet he’d make me a great dad.”
Chapter 6
“You’re up bright and early,” Lloyd Fischer said when Monica came down the stairs early Sunday morning. It was still pitch dark and although Monica had tried countless times, she hadn’t been able to get back to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, Chet Costello drifted, unbidden and unwelcome, into her thoughts, planting himself in her mind and refusing to go away.
If that wasn’t bad enough, Monica was scheduled to sing with the choir that afternoon in downtown Seattle. She’d be near the Westlake Mall where she’d first met Chet. The tantalizing threat of bumping into him a third time had plagued her like an overdue mortgage payment.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Monica mumbled, helping herself to a cup of coffee. She kept her back to her father, letting him know she wasn’t interested in conversation. She didn’t mean to be rude, but she didn’t feel up to her usual cheerful chatter.
Her father generally woke around four on Sunday mornings, enthusiastic and eager to review his sermon and make any last-minute changes. He was the first one at the church, turning on the furnace so the building would be warm when the congregation arrived. He was a gentle spirit, her father, a man who brought joy to God’s heart. His tendency to look at the bright side of an issue was often a source of contention between them, but it was a minor fault.
One of them had to maintain a realistic outlook on life and it was the role she’d chosen. Because of this, others tended to view her in a less than favorable light. Her father, on the other hand, was loved by all. He was a good shepherd to his flock, sensitive and gentle, steering them toward a deeper understanding of God’s word.
Monica sluggishly stirred a teaspoon of sugar into the coffee. She wasn’t looking forward to the outing with the choir, and had toyed with the idea of digging up a plausible excuse not to go. Knowing it would have caused a hardship for the others was her only hesitation.
No, she corrected, striving for honesty, that wasn’t entirely true.
Some small, dark part of herself hungered to see Chet again. It pained and troubled her to admit that. The man had taken advantage of her, threatened her, and then, against her will, had blatantly kissed her. The mere thought of their last encounter brought a flash of heated color to her cheeks.
It mortified her to recall the way she’d responded to him, the way she encouraged his advance, the way her body had reacted to his. No decent woman would feel the things she had, Monica was convinced of that. Patrick had kissed her several times early on in their relationship, and what she’d experienced with him had been a small spark of tenderness. When Chet had kissed her, she’d felt as if she were standing in the middle of a forest fire.
“Are you feeling all right?” her father asked, studying her closely as she sat down at the kitchen table across from him.
Now was the perfect time to say she wasn’t up to par. That was all she need do. Her father would be the one to suggest she not participate in the choir’s performance that afternoon. Naturally she’d put up a token fuss, but he’d be adamant, insisting her health was more important, and the choir could make do without her.