Angel Falls (Angel Falls Series, #1) by Babette Jongh (inspiring books for teens txt) 📗

down familiar streets that suddenly looked foreign and strange to me.

Too soon, he parked in front of Melody’s house.

“Mom,” I said from the back seat, “I don’t think I can go in.”

She looked over the seat to pin me with her pale eyes. “You have to.”

Daddy held my arm on the way up the sidewalk, as if I might do a runner if he let go. I wished I could run away. But Mom was right.

I had to do this.

Guilt, jealousy’s red-headed stepchild, held hands with my regrets. Together they skipped round and round in my head in a continuous loop I could only escape when I slept. The accident’s every detail haunted me, even some I hadn’t noticed then but remembered now. The chirping of crickets. The whine of a persistent mosquito. The stench of rotting vegetation and mud wafting through the broken windows.

My daddy tapped on the front door, but it was just a formality before walking inside. Mom added her famous chocolate pound cake to the huge array of tragedy foods already on the dining table. Someone gave me a gentle hug. Someone else drew me toward the kitchen and pressed a red plastic cup of iced tea into my hand.

“Can I fix you a plate, hon?”

I looked up to see Grace Lambert, Ian’s secretary, a compassionate smile creasing the loose folds of her sweet, elderly face. I wondered whether her ever-present black wig made her head hot, or if it itched. I wanted to tell her she’d be beautiful without it, even if she didn’t have a hair on her head.

“No, thanks,” I roused myself enough to say. “I’m not hungry.”

Grace patted my shoulder. “You’ve got to keep your strength up. You’ve got to be strong for Melody’s family. They need you.” She filled a plate and directed me to the couch, where she set the plate on a TV tray then drifted back to the kitchen. The mother of a ballet student was sitting on the couch talking to a big, muscular man with scruffy blond hair and a beard. They scooted to one side to make room, and the man waited for me to sit, then slid the TV tray in front of me.

“Hey, Casey.” His voice was deep, quiet, comforting. A confidence-inspiring voice like the one on TV that made me want to buy Allstate Insurance. “I’m Cole Sutton, and this is my wife, Meredith. You teach our daughter, Jennifer.”

“Oh, yes. The intermediate class on Tuesday.” I put my iced tea on the tray. The woman, lean and leggy with a mane of wavy brown hair, reached around her husband to squeeze my hand. “We’re so sorry for your loss. I know you and Melody were very close.”

“Thank you.” The words almost stuck in my throat, and I took a quick sip of my tea then made a face. I was one of the few people in the deep-south who hated sweet tea.

“You want unsweet?” Meredith hopped up and grabbed my cup. “I’ll get you some.”

I was trying to figure out how Meredith had read my mind when Cole spoke. “Our daughter, Jenn, is in Jake’s class at school. We’ve known Ben and Melody since our kids were in kindergarten.”

Cole’s kind blue eyes and soft tone were soothing. But I had lost my ability to make small-talk, and a ready response didn’t pop into my head. I wished Ian were here, even though I knew he wouldn’t have been invited. He was new in town, and hadn’t known Melody or Ben. “I’m sorry. I’m not...” I waved my hand in a vague gesture. I’m not ready for this.

“I understand. Ben told me that you were with Melody when she died.” Cole’s voice was neutral, stating a fact without being condemning or curious. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Meredith glided back with a blue plastic cup and handed it over.

I realized then—color-coded cups. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Meredith didn’t sit back down; she patted her husband on his wide, muscle-bound shoulder. “Honey, we should get the kids from your mother’s before she feeds them enough sweets to put them into diabetic comas.” She turned back to me. “Give me a call sometime. I’d love to take you to lunch when you’re feeling up to it. I know we’ll both be missing Melody, and maybe we can help each other.”

Meredith’s sincere offer made my eyes water. “Thank you. I won’t forget.”

Cole and Meredith left, and Jake plopped down next to me. “Aunt Casey,” he whispered. “I can’t stand this. When are all these people going home?”

I stroked Jake’s blonde-streaked curls away from his face. “Oh, honey. I don’t know. They may stay all evening.”

“Nooo.” He managed to insert a decent whine into the whispered word. “I hate this! All these people feeling sorry for us...”

“Shhh.” I shushed him, though when I glanced around I realized I was the only one able to hear him above the other conversations.

“Can’t you give me the key to your house? I could ride my bike there.”

“Oh, Sweetie, I don’t think your dad—”

Jake took my hands in his and squeezed his desperation into my skin. “Please, Aunt Casey. Please, please...”

His eyes trapped mine, the chocolate brown iris so much like his mother’s, while his lanky pre-teen frame and the loose, blond-brown curls of his hair reminded me of Ben. “Aunt Casey, I swear, I’m gonna explode.”

“Why don’t we go for a walk?” I didn’t want to be here, either. “You and I could walk around the block.”

“Noooo. I want to leave and not come back until all these people are gone.”

“I’ll talk to your dad and see what we can work out. But I can’t promise anything.”

Jake’s body relaxed, and I could tell how tightly he’d been holding himself. “I knew you’d come through.”

“I’ll try.” I stood and scanned the room for Ben.

Jake’s red-rimmed eyes were full of hope and despair. “Thank you.”

“Have you eaten anything today?” I asked.

“Nah, I’m not hungry.”

I nodded toward my untouched plate. “You eat this,