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

heater. When I was sitting beside him again, he relaxed, like a lion relaxes, in a way that still makes a gazelle keep its distance.

I tried to relax too, but all my nerve endings were buzzing in Ian’s presence. “I seem to have lost the ability to be around people.”

“It’s all right.” His voice turned warm and rich as melted butter. “I understand what it’s like to be afraid—”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Yes, you are.” His tone lowered to a confiding whisper. “You’re afraid that if you let go of feeling guilty, you’ll be free. And freedom is a very scary thing.”

“I’m not afraid.” I was way past being afraid.

“Prove it.”

I channeled my inner Black Swan, the powerful seductress archetype I used to give myself confidence and courage when I had none. I turned toward him, tucked my injured arm in its sling between our bodies, and leaned in close. I let the fingertips of my right hand caress his lean, tanned cheek and trail down his strong neck, then come to rest on his broad shoulder. I lowered my lashes. My mouth dropped open as I came in for the kiss, and I watched his gaze follow the movement.

I was going to kiss him until he couldn’t breathe.

I was going to kiss him like he’d never been kissed before.

The moment our lips touched, all thought ceased and pure sensation took over. The inside of his mouth was hot, wet, sweet. He slicked his tongue along my teeth, then into my mouth, lightly teasing. I tried to keep the upper hand but the seducer had quickly become the seduced. My nipples tingled where they brushed his chest, and other parts of my body wept with wanting.

He stroked my back, pushing the thin straps of my leotard aside. Finally he broke the kiss and pulled back to look into my eyes.

I hoped the moonlight wasn’t bright enough for him to see how dazed I was.

*

I showed up at Melody’s mom’s house just after noon the next day. Amy had fallen asleep on the way, so I had a struggle getting her out of her car seat then hoisting her onto my hip one-handed. But I managed.

Lois answered the door. The raw grief in her eyes confronted me like a punch in the face. Her eyes were dark, like Melody’s, but now they were deep pools without color, deep pools of endless pain. Her hair had been tortured into an old woman’s over-permed salt-and-pepper cap of curls. She’d been doing her hair this way for years, and it had always looked carefree and casual. But now, the dated style made her look old.

“Casey, honey.” Lois took Amy from me, transferring her easily from my shoulder to hers. “You shouldn’t be holding Amy like that. Your arm won’t heal right if you don’t let it rest.” She turned her face away to hide the sparkle of tears I saw anyway. “I’ll put Amy down for her nap. You go on in the kitchen.”

Walking into the old house, I felt like a teenager again, enveloped in the familiar smell of furniture polish and disinfectant overlaid by the aroma of roast beef and Lois’s famous red velvet cake. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Melody had come bouncing down the stairs, seven years old and wearing the hideous brown shift we’d been so proud of as Girl Scout Brownies. Or maybe she’d be fifteen, in her orange and white cheerleader outfit, her dark ponytails tied with matching ribbons.

I walked through the cedar-paneled den to the large, bright kitchen. Ran my hand along the top of a ladder-back chair, remembering how the scratchy cane bottoms always left an imprint on the backs of our bare thighs in the summer.

The dark mahogany table was set with vinyl placemats edged in a bright strawberry print. I lifted the edge of one in particular, and peeked underneath to see if a pale oval of bleached-out varnish still marred the dark wood.

“It’s still there.” Lois came into the kitchen. “I swear, I wanted to kill that child when—” She choked on the words, swallowing the thought too late.

“It wasn’t just Mel,” I reminded her. “We were both painting our fingernails.” We’d set the bottle of polish remover directly on the wood table, never imagining that the liquid dripping down the sides would collect along the bottle’s rim and eat away the varnish on Lois’s new dining table. We’d tried to wipe it away, compounding the problem, leaving a big smear instead of a small one.

“I know, honey.” Lois patted my shoulder. “It was never just Mel, or just you. Everything y’all ever did, it was both of you, together.”

Like loving Ben. Even that, we’d both done together.

“Lunch is ready.” Lois took plates down from the cupboard. “It’s just the two of us. Herb had something else he had to do.”

“That’s okay.” I knew what else Herb had to do, because he’d left the garage door open, and his bass boat wasn’t there. I couldn’t blame him. I didn’t want to be here, either. It was just too painful. Unfortunately for me, without Herb here, I knew Lois would take the opportunity to ask about Melody’s death.

“I’ll finish setting the table.” I knew where everything was in this kitchen. I gathered napkins, forks, spoons, knives, wondering if I’d be able to eat anything with the dreaded conversation about Melody’s last moments looming. Before coming here, I had made the decision to lie, to say that she hadn’t suffered. I had also made the decision to save Lois from asking the question, by giving her the answer first.

But the words hid behind the flimsy wall of my good intentions and refused to come out.

We both filled our plates with comfort food—mashed potatoes, roast and gravy, corn, green beans, homemade yeast rolls. But as Lois and I bowed our heads to say grace, I knew that none of it would bring us the least bit of comfort.

“Dear Lord.” Lois took my hand. “We give thanks