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

“Sure. What time?”

“Is right now okay?”

“Yeah. Now’s fine.”

Ben co-owned a small company that designed and installed communication systems for big corporations all over the southeast. Phones, internet, special internal servers, stuff like that. His office was across town, but in a town our size that was only five minutes away. I rushed to make myself decent.

I had already dressed for bed, and was only wearing a big T-shirt and panties. I put on an almost-clean pair of jeans and rummaged in the bottom drawer for a pair of socks. I had painted my toenails bright red for my date with Ian, and somehow the sight of those ten shining beacons peeping out from under my jeans made me feel guilty. My best friend was dead, her husband and children struggling to pick up their lives without her, and I had painted my toenails a cheery vermillion. I pulled the socks carefully over the new blisters I’d picked up in the last pointe class.

Ben knocked. Lizzie ran to the door and gave a sharp bark.

My heart squeezed when I opened the door and saw Ben’s face. I was right. He’d been crying. His eyes were glassy and bloodshot. The tip of his nose was red, and his mouth seemed puffy. I wanted to hug him, make him feel all-better, like I’d have done with any of his children. But Mel’s ghost whispered in my ear. What Ben needed now was tough-love, not coddling.

“Come on in.” I took his arm and led him inside, because he seemed inclined to stand in the entry hall. “Sit down,” I ordered, pointing to the overstuffed couch. “I’ll get you a drink.”

In the kitchen, I peered into the refrigerator. “What do you want?” I called out. “I have wine, beer, coke, water.”

“Beer,” he yelled back. I opened the bottle and poured it into a tall glass. The stereo came on, but I could tell Ben hadn’t chosen a CD, he’d just hit the play button.

I cringed. Dave Matthews’ sexy love songs wouldn’t have been my choice for this moment. I resisted the urge to go in and change the music. Calling attention to Ben’s non-choice would be worse than enduring it and changing to something less provocative later. I set the beer on the table in front of him, and curled up in the fat-quilted reading chair with my wine. Leaning back against the cushions, I tucked my feet under me and took a sip. “How are you?”

Ben slouched against the couch, drained a third of his beer in one gulp. “As well as can be expected, considering I’ve lost my wife and am in the process of losing my children as well.” He took another long drink of the beer and looked up at me, his eyes shining, but maybe not so much from tears as I’d first thought.

“Ben, have you been drinking—I mean, before this beer?”

His only reply was a slight smirk. “Amy cries and clings to Lois every time I go there to pick her up. Maryann claims she wants to live with you.” His eyes flashed a brief accusation and then fixed again on the beer glass in his hand. “Jake spends all his free time at Nicky’s house next door.” Ben took a swig of his beer and set the glass aside. “Melody was the glue that held us together, and now that she’s gone, my family is falling apart.”

I felt sorry for him. But my feeling-sorry wasn’t going to help him. I remembered Mel’s legendary backbone-of-titanium, the way she’d ordered her life and everyone else’s around her. I tried to use a little more of that and a little less of my need to single-handedly save the world. “I’m glad you finally realize your family needs you. Now what are you planning to do about it?”

“Do?” He looked shocked at my lack of compassion.

I was kind of shocked, myself, but it didn’t stop me from saying what Mel would have wanted me to say. “Yes, Ben. Do. What are you going to do? I’m sorry if this sounds harsh. I know you’ve lost your wife, but your children have lost their mother.”

Ben hung his head, but I refused to feel sorry for him. Well, at least, I refused to show it.

“They’ve needed you to grieve with them, and you’ve been completely absent. You’ve farmed them out to their grandparents and the neighbors, and now you wonder why they don’t want to come home? How can they trust you to be there for them, when you’ve been unavailable since their mother died?”

Lizzie whined and pressed her nose under my hand. For a second, I saw myself as she must, perched on the edge of my chair, all-but yelling at Ben.

Hell, I was yelling, as if I had any right to chastise anyone. Maybe I’d taken just a little too much of Melody’s backbone-of-titanium. She knew how to balance it exquisitely with her Smurfy-sweetness, while, clearly, I didn’t. Instantly ashamed, I moved to kneel on the floor in front of him.

He dropped his head into his hands. “You’re right.” His voice was muffled. “I’ve been selfish. I only cared about myself. I couldn’t stand to see my kids because I knew they wanted me to make it better... to fix it the way I’ve always been able to fix everything before.”

He sniffed a few times. I went into the kitchen and spun a few paper towels off the roll. I dropped the loosely-folded wad onto the couch beside him. “I don’t have any tissues.”

“Yeah, you’d make a better bachelor than a housewife.” He tore the towels into neat squares and used one to blow his nose.

I sat beside him on the couch and put an arm around his shoulders. “Hey, don’t be any more of a jerk than you have to, okay?”

“I’ll try not to. But tell me, Miss-know-it-all. What am I going to do about my kids?”

“You might not like