Touched by Angels (Angels Everywhere #3)(81)

Jenny leapt off the sofa and hurried to the phone. “Irene,” she said eagerly, unable to hide her delight. When her agent phoned it was generally with good news.

“Jenny.” Irene sounded excited. “I just got off the phone with John Peterman. He’s wants you for the second lead in his new play. This is it, kiddo. All your hard work has finally paid off. We couldn’t ask for better money or better terms. You’re on your way now.”

Dumbstruck, Jenny listened while Irene relayed the details of her contract. When her agent had finished, Jenny replaced the receiver and turned to Michelle, who stood beside her expectantly.

“I got the second lead,” she whispered, her voice revealing the extent of her shock. “John Peterman wants me.”

Michelle let out a wild scream and hugged her enthusiastically. Then the two of them did a dance about the room, laughing, crying, their joy spilling over like champagne poured too fast from the bottle.

A good five minutes passed before Jenny remembered Trey, and then she couldn’t find him.

“Where’d he go?” Jenny asked her roommate.

Michelle gave her a blank look. “I don’t know. He must have left.”

The minute Brynn walked into the school she knew something was very wrong. One of the secretaries sat at her desk, weeping silently. A handful of teachers stood in the corner of the office, talking in whispers. The tension in the room was thick enough to slice and butter.

Not knowing what was wrong, Brynn walked over to her cubicle and cleared out the space. As she suspected, there were a number of printed sheets detailing information about the winter break. The teachers’ Christmas party was scheduled for that evening. Since her surname began with a C, she was responsible for supplying a main dish. Another paper detailed the period schedule for the last day.

Brynn slipped the papers into her bag. A white envelope fluttered from her space and landed on the floor. It was addressed to her personally, and she wondered who had put it there. On closer inspection, she realized the handwriting was familiar. It took a moment to recognize it was from Mike Glasser.

“Did you hear?” Doug Keast asked as he reached for his own papers.

“Hear about what?” Brynn had never been particularly fond of Doug. Not since the day he’d been so eager to have Emilio hauled off to the office. She had no problem with the school’s policy regarding fighting, but she questioned the other teacher’s attitude. It seemed Doug had welcomed the opportunity to see Emilio expelled.

“Mike Glasser.”

“What about him?” she asked.

“He blew his brains out.” Doug pointed his finger to his temple and pulled an imaginary trigger. “His mother found him late yesterday afternoon.” Doug hesitated. “Say, isn’t he one of the kids in your program?”

Mike, dead? A suicide? It was as if Doug had pulled the floor out from under her. The information came at her like a fist in the dark.

Brynn gasped and slumped against the wall. It demanded every ounce of strength she possessed to remain upright. Involuntarily she started to hyperventilate, and she reached out and grabbed hold of the back of a chair.

“Brynn?” Doug’s arm came around her. “Here, sit down. Do you need something?”

“Water. Could you please get me a glass of water?” A shocking, total numbness shrouded her.

“Of course. Listen, I’m sorry.” Doug steered her to a table and sat her down. “I guess I shouldn’t have told you like that.” His voice was full of apology.

Brynn was too numb to respond.

Dead. Mike, the young man she’d tried so hard to reach, was dead. There would be no more tomorrows. No dreams for Mike. No future.

The letter. Mike had written her a letter. A suicide note. No. No, please, please no. Had he written it to her as a desperate cry for help? Dear God, please no. She hadn’t collected her messages in two days.

Her hands shook so badly that Brynn was barely able to retrieve the long white envelope from inside her bag. She ripped it open and pulled out a single sheet.

Miss Cassidy,

By the time you read this, I’ll be dead. I’m not going to go into the reasons why I’m doing this because that wouldn’t solve anything. For me death is the only solution. This is what I want. Life is simply too f**king painful.

I imagine you’re wondering why I’m writing you.

There’s someone I care about, and she’s going to take this hard. I don’t know anyone who can help Suzie through this, except maybe you.

Suzie’s the best thing that ever happened to me, and I love her. She tried to help me, but she couldn’t. No one could.

My dad killed himself when I was a kid. I used to get upset about it, but now I understand why he did it. Dying is easier than living.

Unable to continue because her eyes had blurred with tears, Brynn paused long enough to search for a tissue, then returned to Mike’s letter.

You don’t owe me any favors, but I know you like Suzie.

Talk to her for me, would you? Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her . . . Shit, you’ll know what to say. It isn’t her fault. It’s no one’s fault. Not Suzie’s. Not yours. Not mine. It’s better this way for everyone.

I know I don’t have any right to lay this on you, but there’s no one else I trust. If you would, I’d appreciate it if you said something to my mother, too. You’re good with words and you’ll know what to tell her.