Touched by Angels (Angels Everywhere #3)(11)

She closed her eyes and thought about what their lives would be like together. She liked Carl, enjoyed his company. When he kissed her it was something sweet and gentle. But try as she might, Hannah couldn’t imagine Carl ever being passionate. A smile cracked her lips, and she chided herself silently.

In her mind’s eye she thought about the children she might have with Carl. But instead of conjuring up babies, her mind filled with Joshua Shadduck.

She shook her head in an effort to dispel the image. If only he wasn’t an attorney. If only she’d met him last year at this time. If only . . .

“Hannah.”

Guiltily she bolted off the bed. “Yes, Mama.”

“Carl’s on the phone. He wants to know what took you so long. He’s been worried. You should have phoned him first thing.”

Hurriedly Hannah reached for her shoes. “Tell him I’ll be right there.”

“Hannah will marry Carl,” Gabriel said as if he needed to convince himself.

Goodness was wise enough to say nothing. She’d learned the hard way that it was often more advantageous to hold one’s tongue with the archangel.

“You understand this, don’t you?” Gabriel asked pointedly.

“I’m sure you’re right,” the prayer ambassador answered without emotion. It demanded everything she had to hide her true feelings.

Gabriel studied her with a weary look. “You’re sure you can handle this case?”

“Positive.” She beamed him her brightest, most innocent smile.

“No monkey business.”

Goodness’s eyes rounded with indignation. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Just remember that promise.”

“Can I please meet Jenny Lancaster now?” Mercy asked.

Goodness wanted to kiss her friend for distracting Gabriel. She didn’t know how much longer she would have been able to hide her feelings.

“Ah, yes. Jenny.” Gabriel turned his attention away from Goodness and exhaled sharply. “I’d almost forgotten. Now there’s a sorry case. Let me take you to her now.”

Three

“Jenny, wake up.” Michelle Jordan burst into the bedroom and pulled open the thick drapes. Brilliant sunlight spilled into the room as Jenny Lancaster struggled to an upright position.

“What time is it?” she asked, yawning loudly. It couldn’t be morning. Not yet. Not so soon. Her eyes burned and it felt as though she hadn’t slept more than an hour or two.

“It’s party time.” Michelle dramatically threw her arms into the air.

Jenny collapsed against her pillow. “Not for me.”

“For both of us, girl.” Michelle curled up at the foot of Jenny’s bed. “John Peterman’s sent out a casting call for a new Lehman musical. He’s going to need twenty singers and dancers. I don’t know about you, but I intend to be one of those who ends up on stage opening night. Now you can come along and audition with me, or you can sleep the rest of your life away.”

Jenny closed her eyes. The choice shouldn’t be this difficult. There was a time when she would have leapt out of bed, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, grabbed her dancing shoes, and headed out the front door. Not so these days. At twenty-three Jenny Lancaster felt like a has-been. Or, more appropriate, a never-was.

“Are you coming or not?”

Another cattle call. Jenny had given up counting the number of times she’d set her heart on getting a bit part on Broadway. Off Broadway, near Broadway. She didn’t care. This was her dream. Her goal. Her ambition.

She’d left Custer, Montana, blessedly naive about the cutthroat world of the stage. Three years later she felt washed-out, washed-up, and ready for the wringer.

Three years was a long time to subsist on one’s dreams. Jenny would have thrown in the towel a long time before now if it hadn’t been for one thing. Her family and friends back home believed in her. She was the bright, shining star the community had pinned its hopes upon. Back home she could outsing, outdance, and outact anyone in town. But in New York she was just another pretty face with talent.

“Twenty singers and dancers,” Jenny repeated, still trying to decide if another audition was worth all the pain involved. She wasn’t sure her heart could stand another rejection. “Does twenty singers and twenty dancers mean Peterman needs forty people?”

“I don’t know,” Michelle said with her characteristic boundless energy. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

It did. Jenny sat upright and rubbed a hand down her face. “I don’t know if I’m up to this. Rejection hurts. Frankly I’m not sure this is what I really want anymore,” she whispered. Admitting this to her best friend was hard, but it needed to be said. She loved New York, but at heart she would always be a country girl.

“You can’t think of it like that. Rejections are simply the rungs to the ladder of success,” Michelle announced, ever positive, ever confident.

Jenny sighed audibly. “You’ve been listening to motivational tapes again, haven’t you?”

Michelle nodded. “It shows that much?”

“Yes.” Almost against her will, Jenny tossed aside the bedding and climbed off the mattress. “All right, I’ll go, but I’ll need a few minutes to put myself together.”