Where Angels Go (Angels Everywhere #6)(39)

He wished she’d quit reminding him of that.

“How soon will you have another unit available?” Harry asked, still in shock.

Elizabeth considered her answer. “That’s difficult to say. It could be three months but it might be as long as six.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Alderwood.”

“No…no, I’m the one who’s sorry. You suggested we decide quickly and I thought we had.” “If there’s anything else I can do for you, please let me know. Oh, and in the meantime, Merry Christmas.”

“Thank you. Merry Christmas to you.” He put back the phone and released a deep sigh of regret, knowing he should have taken action that very day.

Now it was too late.

Too late for him.

In three months’ time he wouldn’t be here. In three months’ time Rosalie would be a widow.

16

B eth slept fitfully all night. She couldn’t escape the thoughts tumbling crazily through her mind, but every once in a while exhaustion overtook her, and she’d slip into a light sleep. Then she’d dream—dreams filled with John. And the shock of what she’d discovered would jerk her awake. Before long, the whole process would start all over again.

In the morning, she was blurry-eyed and her temples were throbbing with the beginnings of a headache. Despite how she felt, she had no choice but to attend Mass. James and Bella, her nephew and niece, were participating in a special Christmas program. Not to show up would disappoint them. Besides, her entire family would be there; it was easier to make the effort and go now than to offer excuses later.

Before she left, Beth swallowed two aspirin with a glass of orange juice. Her mother had planned a large brunch afterward.

By the time Beth arrived at the church, the parking lot was almost full. She hoped her mother had saved her a place.

Joyce was lying in wait just inside the church vestibule, which meant she had something on her mind—and Beth could easily guess what it was.

“You’re late and it’s time for Mass,” her mother said, slipping her arm around Beth, as if she was afraid her daughter might make a run for it at the last minute. “Your father saved us two places, but I don’t think he’ll be able to hold on to them much longer.”

“Sorry, Mom, I got a slow start.”

“I want to hear every detail about Leavenworth.” Joyce narrowed her eyes. “Every detail,” she repeated ominously.

“Yes, well…I’ll explain later.” She wouldn’t tell her family everything, though. She felt overwhelmed by the events of the day before. Heidi’s arrangement with Peter—John—on her behalf was a further complication, one she didn’t need. But the immediate problem was how much to say to her parents.

As soon as Mass began, Beth’s problems seemed to lift from her shoulders. The beauty of the church, with its decorations of poinsettia and evergreen boughs, the joyful music and the sermon’s message—about forgiving yourself and not allowing past mistakes to hold you back—seemed to be just for her. The Christmas pageant was delightful and when she joined in the carol-singing, her heart felt free.

That morning, her entire life had felt like a disaster. By the end of Mass, Beth had begun to feel a new sense of hope. Maybe this bizarre coincidence involving John was meant to be. Maybe…maybe they’d have a second chance, despite all the bitterness and grief.

The family brunch at her parents’ home was her only remaining hurdle today. Everyone wanted to know about Peter.

“Don’t keep us in suspense,” her mother said as she passed the platter of scrambled eggs to Beth.

“Mom, please.” Foolishly she’d hoped to avoid lengthy explanations and at first she’d thought that might actually happen, since everyone’s attention was focused on her niece and nephew, who’d played minor roles in today’s program. But she should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. At Joyce’s comment, everyone stopped eating and stared at Beth.

“We’re just curious,” her sister added. “If you tell us to mind our own business, we will.”

“Angela,” their mother said. “Don’t even suggest Marybeth keep this to herself!”

Groaning, Beth could see that it was useless to resist. Her mother felt entitled to an answer—and it had better be the right answer, too. Joyce had lit a candle, after all.

“Yesterday I—” Beth thought about telling the truth. The direct approach had its benefits. But the thought of explaining that Peter wasn’t Peter but John Nicodemus, her ex-husband, was more than she could handle. As her mental debate continued, Beth hesitated, leaving her sentence unfinished.

“Marybeth, please,” her mother implored.

“We didn’t meet,” she blurted out.

“You didn’t meet?” The question echoed around the table.

“Don’t tell me you chickened out,” her mother cried. The horrified look was back, as if Beth had, once again, been a disappointment to the family.

She couldn’t tell them the real reason she hadn’t met Peter, so she just sat and gazed blankly at the wall.

After a moment, her parents’ eyes met. Her father cleared his throat. “Actually, your mother and I suspected this might happen. We feel it’s time, Beth, for you to consider counseling.”