Kiss an Angel(70)

“I want to talk to you, Heather. Let’s sit down on those bleachers.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Fine. Then I’ll do the talking. Move it.”

Heather regarded her sulkily but responded to the authority in her voice. After gathering up her rings, she followed Daisy to the bleachers, dragging her sandals the entire way.

Daisy took a seat in the third row while Heather settled one row lower. Tater found a place near home plate and began picking up dirt and tossing it on his back, part of his instinctive cooling system.

“I suppose you’re going to yell at me about Alex.”

“Alex is married, Heather, and marriage is a sacred bond between a man and a woman. No one has the right to try to break that apart.”

“It’s not fair! You didn’t do anything to deserve him.”

“That’s not for you to judge.”

“You’re a real goody-goody, aren’t you?”

“How could I be a goody-goody?” Daisy said quietly. “I’m a thief, remember?”

Heather looked down at her fingers and picked at the cuticle on her thumb. “Everybody hates you for stealing that money.”

“I know they do. And that’s not fair, is it?”

“Yeah, it’s fair.”

“But both of us know I didn’t do it.”

Heather’s back stiffened, and she waited a fraction of a second too long before replying. “You did, too.”

“You were in the red wagon that night between the time Sheba checked the cash drawer and I closed up.”

“So what? I didn’t steal the money, and you’re not going to pin it on me!”

“A call came in for Alex. I took it, and while I was distracted you got into the cash drawer and removed the two hundred dollars.”

“I did not! You can’t prove anything!”

“Then you sneaked into the trailer and hid the money in my suitcase so everyone would think it was me.”

“You’re a liar!”

“I should have figured it out right away, but I was so tired from trying to adjust to everything that I forgot you’d been there.”

“You’re a liar,” Heather repeated, but this time with less vehemence. “And if you go and tell my dad about this, you’re gonna be sorry.”

“You can’t threaten me with anything worse than what you’ve already done. I don’t have any friends, Heather. No one wants to talk to me because they think I’m a thief. Even my own husband believes it.”

Heather’s face was a picture of guilt, and Daisy knew she’d been right. She regarded the teenager sadly. “What you did was very wrong.”

Heather ducked her head, and her fine blond hair fell forward, concealing her expression. “You can’t prove anything,” she muttered.

“Is this the way you plan to live your life? Acting dishonestly? Being cruel to another person? We all make mistakes, Heather, and part of growing up is learning how to deal with them.”

The teenager’s shoulders sagged, and Daisy saw the exact moment when she gave up. “Are you going to tell my dad?”

“I don’t know. But I have to tell Alex.”

“If you tell him, he’ll go straight to my dad.”

“That’s probably true. Alex has a strong sense of justice.”

A tear splatted on the top of Heather’s thigh, but Daisy hardened her heart against any sympathy.

“My dad said if I got into any trouble, he was sending me back to live with my aunt Terry.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you framed me.”

Heather said nothing, and Daisy didn’t rush her. She finally wiped her eyes on the hem of her T-shirt. “When are you going to tell him?”

“I haven’t thought about it. Tonight, probably. Maybe tomorrow.”

Heather gave a jerky nod. “I just—the money was there, and I didn’t plan it or anything.”

Daisy tried to swallow her pity by reminding herself that, because of the actions of this child, her husband thought she was a thief and her marriage had been poisoned before it had a chance. “What you did wasn’t right. You have to face the consequences.”

“Yeah, I guess I know that.” She tried to dash her tears away with her fingers. “In a way, I’m almost glad you found out. It’s been hard—I know I don’t deserve it, but could you maybe tell Sheba first instead of Alex? Let her tell my dad. The two of them, they fight and everything, but they respect each other, and maybe if she tells him, she can keep him from doing completely crazy.”

Daisy sat up straighter. “Is your father physically violent?”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean he yells and everything.”

“Does he hit you?”

“Dad? No, he doesn’t ever hit. But he gets so mad that sometimes I wish he would.”

“I see.”

“And I guess I’d of ended up with my aunt sooner or later. I know she needs me to help out with her kids and everything. I guess I’ve been pretty selfish wanting to stay here. It’s just—the kids are real brats, and sometimes when they do stuff, she sort of takes it out on me.”

Daisy saw more than she wanted to, and she felt as if guilt-nails were being pounded into her.