A Season of Angels (Angels Everywhere #1)(73)

She was forever grateful he didn’t play a game of cat and mouse, attempting to guess Chet’s identity.

“For the first time since you entered your twenties you’ve taken your eyes off yourself. You’ve worked so hard to do the right thing, to be the perfect example of God’s love to others. Soon you focused all your efforts on yourself and how good you were. It was then that you started to notice the flaws in others. It became a vicious circle and I couldn’t seem to reach you with the truth.”

Monica raised her gaze to his. “I don’t understand.”

“Forgive me for sounding like the preacher I am. You’re my only child and I love you more than words can say, but there’ve been times I wanted to take you by the shoulders and shake you good and hard.”

“For what?” Although she asked the question, Monica was well aware of the answer.

“For standing in judgment of others instead of trying to look at them through God’s eyes,” her father continued.

“The man, his . . . his name is Chet,” she whispered, feeling she owed her father some explanation. “I met him downtown, the first time the ensemble sang. He was going into a tavern and I tried to stop him by telling him how wrong it was for him to drink.”

Her father smiled at that and settled back in his chair. “I suspect he didn’t listen to you.”

“No, quite the opposite. He laughed.” She did too then, at the memory. Softly, sadly. “We met again by accident later and several times more by design.

“I couldn’t understand what it was I found so intriguing about him. He’s not like anyone I’ve ever known.”

“You’ve been raised in the church. Your experience with the world has been limited.”

She reached for a tissue and twisted it between her fingers. “He’s a former policeman and has lived a hard life. He’s done things neither of us would ever dream of doing. He’s been shot and sometimes carries a gun, although he doesn’t realize I know that.”

“A gun?”

“At first glance he looks rough and mean,” she hurried to explain, “but on the inside . . . I don’t think I could have found a better man to love. He was honest when he didn’t need to be, and gentle. There were any number of times he could have seduced me and didn’t.”

“I see.”

The strain in her father’s voice produced a small smile. She shouldn’t have told him that part. Any father would have reacted the same.

“He’s so damn noble I could cry . . . and have,” she said, clenching her fists.

“I take it he’s the one who insisted you not see each other again?”

Monica nodded. “He never said he loved me, but I know he does. He loves me so much he was willing to send me away rather than take the chance of hurting me.”

“Monica,” her father pleaded, “why didn’t you bring him to meet me?”

It was a question that had plagued her as well. One she’d repeatedly asked herself the last few days. Chet had claimed he wanted it to end before there were more regrets, but she’d stewed in them for days. She feared Chet had assumed she was ashamed of him and that simply wasn’t the case.

“I don’t know why I didn’t introduce you. I guess I was afraid you’d think ill of him, or me.”

“But, Monica, you love this man. That would have been enough of a character endorsement for me. Your mother and I raised you and if you can’t judge a man’s worth by now then you wouldn’t be our daughter.”

“Oh, Dad, I wish I’d done so many things differently and now it’s too late. Forgive me for not trusting you. I’ve been wrong about so much.”

Her father patted her knee once more. “There’s a special man for you. Remember how hurt you were when you learned Patrick was engaged.”

Patrick. She’d nearly forgotten about him. It was laughable to think she’d been anything close to loving her former boyfriend. Her pride had been hurt at Patrick’s surprise announcement. Far more than her ego was involved this time, and Monica sincerely doubted that she’d ever be the same again.

Chapter 16

“Hey, man, you don’t look so good,” Lou, the Blue Goose bartender said as he poured Chet another shot glass of Kentucky bourbon.

“If you’re looking for a pretty face,” Chet muttered, “call Trixie.”

“You got the flu?”

“Yeah,” Chet said, thinking that would get Lou off his back. He wasn’t interested in company or conversation.

“Then get the hell out of here,” Lou continued. “No one wants to be sick for Christmas.”

Christmas. It was just another day like all the others as far as Chet was concerned. Christmas was for families and he didn’t have one. No one bought him gifts, and there certainly wasn’t anyone he cared enough to buy one for other than . . . His thoughts came to a grinding halt.

Funny how a woman could mess up a man’s mind. He’d known Monica what . . . two, three weeks? He’d lost count and within that short amount of time she’d managed to worm her way into his heart until she was like a virus that had spread to every part of his body.

He couldn’t eat or sleep for want of her. He couldn’t close his eyes without his head filling up with thoughts of her. Nor could he get the image of her out of his mind. The one of her standing at the end of the pier, the wind ruffling her hair, her beautiful eyes bright with tears . . . and love. A love so damn strong it was like a torchlight beaming directly at him.