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

Maryann pulled away from me and crossed her arms, grumbling something too quiet to understand. Jake slid past her, delivering a sly pinch. “You get what you get, and you don’t fuss a bit!” She slapped his hand away but didn’t rise to the bait.

“Young lady.” Ben’s voice was low and slightly threatening. “What should your response be?”

Maryann’s “yes, sir,” was barely audible.

“I don’t think I heard you.” Ben snapped the edges of the big shopping bag and folded it with sharp motions.

“Yes, sir,” Maryann yelled over her shoulder then flounced from the room.

Jake sniggered maliciously. “Welcome to paradise.”

I moved closer to Ben, close enough to feel the waves of irritation coming off his body. Amy’s warm little hand slid into mine, and I clasped it firmly, taking comfort from her innocent touch.

“Jake...” Ben’s voice held the restrained fury of a man on the edge of physical violence. “Your sly comments are not allowed in this house. If you can’t control your mouth, please go to your room.”

I put a hand on Ben’s arm, doing my best to infuse his rigid muscles with a calm I didn’t feel myself. “Let it go,” I whispered.

Ben shrugged off my hand and lowered his eyebrows at Jake. “You will answer politely, son, or I’ll tan your hide.”

I turned away and started putting things into the fridge. If I were Melody, I’d have intervened. But I wasn’t Melody, and I needed to remember that. I devoted all my attention to shifting the contents of the refrigerator to make room for a six-pack of yogurt. But of course, even with my head in the fridge, I couldn’t help but hear the desperation in Ben’s overly-controlling tone when he kept hammering away at Jake. This autocratic attitude wasn’t like him at all. It had to be attributed to his grief, and the stress of raising these kids alone. I felt like sitting them all down in a circle and insisting that we sing a round of Kumbaya.

“Yes, sir.” Jake’s tone was filled with sullen resentment, his posture as stiff and unbending as Ben’s. “May I go to my room now?”

“Go on.” Ben crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his butt against the kitchen counter, releasing just a hint of the aggravation that held his body so tense I could feel it from three feet away. “I’ll call you when supper’s ready.”

I closed the refrigerator door and waited for someone—Ben—to say something. Amy stood in front of me and lifted her arms, so I picked her up. She wrapped her legs around me and snuggled her face into the crook of my neck. “You smell good, Aunt Casey.”

My gaze flew to Ben’s. “It’s just soap, honey.” I didn’t want Ben to think I’d put perfume on for him. Because I hadn’t.

She stroked my hair, sifted it through her fingers. “Your hair smells good. And it feels good, too.” Amy was oblivious to the nervous energy shimmering in the air. I carried her to the table, pulled out a chair and sat with her in my lap. She snuggled close, bringing her clasped hands up between my breasts, pressing her arms there as if she missed the softness of a woman. “You don’t come to see us anymore.” The quiet plea in her whispered voice twisted around my heart. “I miss you, Aunt Casey.”

“Oh, honey.” I kept my voice low, trying to spare Ben from hearing our conversation as he took the steaks out of the package and put them in a dish to marinate. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll come more often.”

“You didn’t just love our mama, did you? You love us, too, right?”

I squeezed Amy a little tighter. “Of course I love y’all.”

“Daddy too?” Amy’s voice was quiet, but not quiet enough. I looked up to meet Ben’s level blue gaze. Amy tugged at a lock of my hair, turning my attention back to her. “Do you love my Daddy, too?”

I hugged Amy, and looked over her shoulder at Ben while I gave her the only answer I could. “Of course I do, honey.”

The confession brought no joy, no comfort, no peace along with it. I felt only a crushing weight, even heavier than the weight I’d carried all the years Ben had been married to Melody, all the years I had struggled alone with the shame of my love for him.

I doubted there would come a day when I didn’t love Ben. But I couldn’t derive any joy from a love so burdened by guilt.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Amy cupped my face between her small hands. “You’re gonna come back a lot, right?”

I smoothed a blonde curl behind her ear. “I promise, sweetheart. I’ll come back.”

Her smile blossomed. “I love you, Aunt Casey.”

The back door closed with a soft click, and I heard the squeal of hinges as Ben opened the top of the gas grill. I tore my gaze from his broad shoulders, slightly hunched as he reached down to turn on the burners. Amy puckered her lips, and I did the same, planting a quick kiss on her pursed little mouth. “I love you too, baby girl.”

*

That night, I rolled in my twisted sheets like a plucked bird skewered over a roasting fire. The leaves had already turned on the redbud trees, but a warm front had invited summer weather to rot the jack-o-lanterns on the town’s porches. I got up and tinkered with the thermostat, but still slept badly, waking to dreams of twin yellow headlights that turned into the amber eyes of Ian Buchanan.

Toward morning, I was walking into a college Algebra class only to realize that I hadn’t attended class all semester, and was about to flunk the final exam. Naked.

The classroom bell rang.

I woke in a panic and catapulted out of bed. The phone rang again, and I snatched it up. Blinking in the garish mid-morning light, I answered. “Hello?” My voice sounded thin and breathy. I put a hand to my heart