A Season of Angels (Angels Everywhere #1)(63)

“I see.” Funny how much was visible in those two brief words. “Just how long have you been dating this . . . other man?”

“Mom, it isn’t like that. We’ve only been out a couple of times, but it isn’t anything . . .” She stopped herself in time from saying “serious.” Glen was serious. He’d said as much from the first. He wanted a wife and family. Timmy wanted and needed a father figure. She needed a husband. One who would laugh with her, one who would hold her when she needed to be held. One who would fill the empty spaces of her heart.

“Everything’s becoming clear to me now,” Gloria said stiffly. “No wonder you don’t want to hear about Jeff. You’re involved with another man.”

“Mother, that’s not true.” This was an impossible conversation, and growing more so every minute. The immediate sense of guilt she experienced was nearly crippling.

“The man who called from Germany knew that you’d divorced my son.”

“Mother, we’ve been through this a thousand times or more. I didn’t divorce Jeff because I didn’t love him any longer. It was for financial reasons.”

“I was never satisfied with that excuse and you know it. Both your parents and I were more than willing to support you.”

“Mom, please—”

“The man who called asked me about you and Timmy.”

“Mom, don’t, please,” Jody whispered, her small voice trembling. “It was a dream. It never happened.”

“He did call.” Gloria’s high voice rattled from the telephone receiver. “Jeff’s alive.”

“I realize it’s difficult for you to accept that I’m dating again, but it’s time I got on with my life. Don’t you think I’ve grieved long enough? Don’t you think it’s time?” Despite her resolve not to break down, she was crying. It happened like this nearly every time they spoke.

“I imagine you plan to marry this other man?” Gloria continued, her voice filled with disdain.

“I never said that.”

“You can remarry, you know, there’s nothing I can do to stop you.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Jody said, bewildered and miserable, looking for a means of ending the conversation.

“That would make for a fine thing for my son to come home to, his wife married to another man.”

“Mom, please don’t say that.”

“You know what I think?” Gloria said accusingly, knowing she had the upper hand. “You don’t want Jeff to be alive. You’ve made such a fine life for yourself that it would be inconvenient for you if he did turn up alive.”

“You know that’s not true,” Jody sobbed.

“Do I, now? You have your new boyfriend, you don’t need Jeff anymore.”

“Glen is a friend,” she insisted.

“That isn’t what you said earlier.”

“I think it’s time we ended this,” Jody said, struggling for what little composure remained.

“That’s just fine with me. But I think you should know, I’m going to tell Jeff myself just what kind of wife you turned out to be. He’s going to call me soon, and then I’ll tell him. Then he’ll know the truth about you.”

Chapter 14

Leah walked into her house and was greeted with the fresh, pungent scent of evergreen. The decorator had arrived and set up the Christmas tree, and it was breathtakingly beautiful.

The flocked tree looked as if it belonged in the foyer of a classy hotel. Glossy gold bows were strung in one continuous ribbon from top to bottom. Bright red porcelain poinsettia flowers were symmetrically placed. And then there were the angels. Leah counted twelve. In gold gowns with massive white wings, each one playing a musical instrument. A guitar, a harp, a saxophone, a tuba, and flute. A horn and trombone. It became a game to find each one hidden among the heavy white limbs.

“You’re home,” Andrew said, ambling into the living room from the kitchen. “Well,” he said, his gaze following hers toward the Christmas tree, “what do you think?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I thought so too.”

She hung her coat in the closet.

“Debbi outdid herself this year,” Andrew said, bending over and turning on the tree lights. Ten strings of miniature red globes glowed, casting warm shadows about the room.

The decorator was a friend of Andrew’s mother. As part of her Christmas gift to Andrew and Leah, Shirley Lundberg had their Christmas tree decorated.

“I love the angels,” Leah said, slipping her arm around her husband’s waist and pressing her head to his shoulder.

“How’d your day go?”

There was far more to the question than what he was asking. What Andrew wanted to know was if she was feeling the same queasy sensation she had the last few days both in the mornings and late in the afternoons. He was asking if her period had started. In sum he wanted to know if she was pregnant.

“My day was great, how about yours?” she asked, smiling up at him.

His gaze skirted past hers. “Let’s sit down,” he suggested. With a flip of the switch, the gas fireplace roared to life and tongues of fire licked at the imitation logs.

Together they sank into the soft comfort of the leather sofa. Andrew’s arm was tucked around her shoulders and he rested his chin on the crown of her head. “I’ve been thinking,” he began.