The Trouble with Angels (Angels Everywhere #2)(33)

Without thinking what she was doing, Joy cried out excitedly and hurled herself at Ted. His arms went around her waist, and he lifted her from the ground and whirled her around several times in their own private celebration.

People crushed in around them, but Joy didn’t notice and she doubted that Ted did, either. All at once she realized that she was in Ted Griffin’s arms, holding on to him as if she intended never to let go.

Enjoy it, she told herself. Consider it a bonus.

She closed her eyes and savored the feel of his arms around her, savored his strength.

He released her abruptly, as if he realized he’d held her far longer than he should have. Joy made busywork, gathering her sweater and her purse. The Forum was emptying, the crowd pleased with the results of the game.

"Great game,” she said, the first to breach the silence.

"One of the year’s best.”

"Stanley’s going to be an asset to the team,” she said, burying her hands in her pockets and standing shoulder to shoulder with the slow-moving crowd.

"He already is.”

She noticed Ted didn’t sound his usual self and wondered what was wrong. When she could, she chanced a look at him, hoping she wasn’t being obvious. His face was tight, his eyes brooding and thoughtful.

All they’d done was share in the celebration of the win. It didn’t mean anything.

"Don’t look so worried,” she said when they reached his car. He stood on the driver’s side and she on the passenger’s, the vehicle between them.

"Worried?” He raised his eyes to hers.

"I don’t expect anything more from you, if that’s what you’re thinking. I know you’re not going to see me again. So stop worrying about the hug. It was a hug, nothing more. I’m not going to tell Blythe, if that’s what’s bothering you.” Joy knew she sounded defensive, but she couldn’t help that. Already he regretted their time together. Regretted holding her.

"Leave Blythe out of this,” Ted snapped, and inserted the key into the lock.

8

Maureen had done everything humanly possible to get out of driving Karen to her riding lesson the following Tuesday afternoon. Her parents would have been happy to take Karen, but they were attending a Christmas party with their bridge club. If it wasn’t such a long drive, Maureen would have opted to drop Karen off and return for her later. But the lesson was shorter than the drive.

By sheer luck, Maureen had been able to avoid Thom when he’d driven back into town Saturday afternoon to pick up Paula. But she didn’t expect to be so fortunate a second time.

"Mom,” Karen murmured.

"What is it, honey?” Her daughter had been unusually quiet all afternoon. After the personal sacrifices Maureen was making for these riding lessons, one would hope Karen would reveal the enthusiasm she had earlier.

"Dad phoned on Friday night, didn’t he?”

Maureen’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel. "Yes, he phoned.”

"Did he want to talk to me?”

Maureen never thought she was capable of hating anyone as much as she did Brian for the way he’d hurt their daughter. "He didn’t say.”

"I didn’t think he did.” Karen’s head drooped down so far, her chin was tucked against her chest.

"So that’s what all this is about.” Maureen reached over and squeezed Karen’s hand. "Come on, sweetheart, it’s you and me. It has been for a good long time. We’re doing all right, aren’t we?”

"What did he want?”

"To be fair, I didn’t give your father much of a chance to say.”

Karen looked over to Maureen. "Did you tell him if he wanted anything, he should talk to your attorney?”

The kid knew her all too well. "Something along those lines,” Maureen admitted.

"Is he?”

"I don’t have a clue what your father will or won’t do.” What Maureen did know was that the less she had to do with Brian, the better for everyone involved. Just hearing his voice was like ripping open a freshly healed wound.

But in her case the wound hadn’t healed. It had festered and the poison had acted like a malignancy, spreading into every part of her life. She wasn’t so blind not to know what was happening. Yet she felt powerless to stop it.

Karen continued to study her, until Maureen found her daughter’s eyes disconcerting. "Why are you looking at me like that?”

"I’m trying to see if your face changes.”

"Changes?”

"Your voice does. Whenever you talk about Dad your voice gets deep and a little scratchy.”

"Really?” Maureen hadn’t noticed. "What about my face?”

Karen centered her focus on her mother once more. "Say something about Dad.”

"Say something about Dad,” Maureen repeated. "Well, let me think. We were married right out of college and—”

"Not like that. Talk about him the way you do now.”

"I don’t understand.” Maureen momentarily diverted her attention from the road.

Karen’s voice deepened as she said, "The bastard I used to be married to always said”—she paused—"like that.”

"I sound like that when I mention your father?” Hearing Karen echo the biting words she’d repeated countless times was like a cold slap in the face.