When Angels Cry (16 page)

“That’s not true.  Everyone wondered about you at the soup kitchen.”

He kissed her forehead.  “I’ve no family to speak of, Kaylee.  My dad disowned me, and I can’t face my sister, not considering the failure I’ve become—
”

“You’re not a failure,” Kaylee argued, savagely tugging the stray hair from in front of her face.  “You’ve just had some hard luck.  There’s no shame in that.”

“Before I met you
,
nobody would have noticed if I’d fallen off the face of the earth.  I had all these problems, and I thought there was only one solution:  a bullet.  I had the gun loaded.  I sat in my pick-up, drinking enough courage to ‘fix’ things.  Then I saw you almost mow
n
down by a car and then almost drown.”  Bastian shook his head as though he were trying to shake the images from his mind.

Kaylee stiffened. 
“I didn’t mean—
”

“I know.  But t
hat gave me a reason to put the gun down and help you.  It made me forget about things.
 
You saw me as your protector, and for a while, that scared the hell out of me.  But every day since
,
you’ve given me a reason not to pick up that gun.
  I might have pulled you out of that freezing water, but anyone could have done that.  Most anybody would have.  But nobody else could have done what you did for me.  You saved me.  Then you loved me and let me love you in return.” 
He looked at Kaylee
and
rested his hand atop hers, lacing his fingers with hers.  Kaylee leaned against his shoulder and squeezed his hand.

“I wish time would stop here and now
,
”
she whispered.

“Me, too.” 
He kissed her forehead. 

They sat together, watching the ducks as a handful of them flapped their wings and lifted into flight. 

“I’d like to show you something now
.  We can even walk there
,” Kaylee said, abruptly standing and pulling Bastian to his feet.  Together they ambled from the duck pond, heading up the steps. 

“Where are we going?”  Bastian peered at the sky, noting the thick clouds at the horizon freighted with new snow.

“It’s a surprise,” Kaylee answered. 

“Why does that sound familiar?” Bastian laughed.

“I know you’ll love it.” 
Kaylee rolled her eyes.

Bastian leaned over and pecked her cheek. 
“Not half as much as I love you.”

They reached the top of the steps to find
the
chaos of rush hour traffic surging in front of them.  Horns blared, and traffic lights blinked
.  B
astian held Kaylee tightly to him, remembering again the night he’d met her.  Then, he wouldn’t have known what it would’ve been like to lose Kaylee
;
n
ow, he didn’t want to know.  A chill shook him, and he saw the first flakes of the storm fall on his dark jacket.  The clouds on the horizon drifted ever closer.  Another front was coming.

They waited together at a stoplight, and once the “Walk” sign
had
flashed, they crossed.  Kaylee led him down the street, finally stopping before a tall building.

“
Here we are.”

“What the hell?  What are we doing here?” 
A huge sign that said “Renard Art Studio” loomed before them.
T
he moment Bastian saw it, he released Kaylee’s hand and shook his head.  He stepped back from the building, glaring at Kaylee.  His breathing quickened, and he balled his fingers into fists that tapped together nervously.

“I want to introduce you to Rosie and show you your office.” 
Kaylee
gestured at
the door. 

“My new office?  What are you talking about?” 
Bastian took a
nother
step backward.  His voice thundered above the traffic.

Kaylee touched his arm.  “I was looking for an art teacher, and I found you.  That just goes to show this was meant to be.  You were meant to come here.”

“I’m not a teacher, dam
mi
t.  I keep telling you that.” 
Bastian shrugged off her touch and glowered at her. 

“You are now.  I called Rosie earlier and told her I’d be bringing in the new instructor to get ready for the classes starting next week.”

“I can’t do this, Kaylee.” 
Bastian braced his shoulders.  All color had left his face
,
and he tilted his head toward the ground, closing his eyes and shaking his head.  A Buick with a broken muffler sped past and honked loudly.

She ignored the noise and the awful exhaust while she lifted Bastian’s hand and placed it over her heart.  “Feel that?”  She waited until he nodded.  “It says you can.”

Bastian shook his head and started to argue with her
.  “I—
”

“
Ssh
.  All I’m asking is that you try.  If you absolutely hate it, you can do something different, and I won’t say a word.  But at least try.”
Kaylee put her fingertip to his lips.

“You’re stubborn.”

“Glad you noticed.” 
Kaylee smiled, and, standing on tiptoes,
she
kissed his neck.  She led him through the revolving glass door to a desk where a tall, African-American woman sat typing.  Two large vases of white orchids stood on either side of the counter, in front of the desk.  As the woman looked up, her eyes widened in surprise.  A smile beamed across her face as she rushed from behind the desk.

“Well, if it ain’t Kaylee and her prince.
  I’m Rosie Blanchard.
”  She winked at Kaylee and offered her hand to Bastian
.

“I’m not a prince.  Just Bastian Connelly.” 
Bastian shook her hand and returned the smile. 

“Bastian will be teaching our students starting next week.”
  Kaylee linked her arm with Bastian’s.

“Anything else?” 
Rosie’s grin widened, and she placed her hands on her hips as the grandfather clock down the hall chimed 5:00.

Bastian flushed. 
“What do you mean?  What exactly does the job require?”
    

The telephone rang, and Rosie stepped back around the counter to it.  As she picked it up, she said to Bastian,
“Ask Kaylee.  She’d know best.” 

“Thanks, Rosie,” she said, shaking her head.
  Bastian turned back to Kaylee and found a dark blush coloring her cheeks. 

“Am I missing something?” Bastian asked.

“Nope.”  She pulled him down the hallway.  “I’ll give you a tour.”  Kaylee strode down the hallway into a huge
,
open room. 

“Why did she call me a prince?”  Bastian took in Kaylee’s expression instead of the lavish studio.  Grinning, he enjoyed the flush on her cheeks.

“How should I know?  Maybe she’s been reading too many fairy
tales.” 
Kaylee avoided his gaze, focusing instead on the dying sunlight  ebbing through numerous windows.  The white walls, devoid of pictures or paintings, only made the room appeared larger. 

“Wrong.  Try again.”  Bastian pulled her close to him.

“It’s a long story, and we’re in the middle of a tour.”  She tried to drag him to the center of the room, but his feet remained firmly planted.

“The studio will still be here, and besides--I like long stories.”

Kaylee groaned and leaned against the wall.  “Whenever I worked at the soup kitchen with Rosie and the other girls, I would wait for you to come.  They knew it, and they always kidded me about it, call
ing you my ‘Prince Charming.’”

“And what did Rosie mean by ‘anything else?’” 
Bastian placed his hands on the wall
behind
Kaylee’s shoulders.  He leaned toward her, so close she could feel his breath caress her ear.  His chest was firm
and
heavy against her breasts.

“What do you think she meant?”
Kaylee closed her eyes as her heartbeat quickened.  Standing so damned close to him, her breathing thinned to shallow staccato bursts, and all coherent thought fled. 

“Ah.”  Bastian kissed her ear and gently brushed his lips across her cheek.  “Well, that is one qualification I won’t have a problem with.”  He ran his fingers through her hair, brushing her bangs away from her face.

“Ahem.”

Bastian glanced to his left and found Rosie standing in the doorway, smiling.  “Hello, Rosie,” he said, leaning his head against Kaylee.  “We were just in the middle of ‘anything else.’”

“I can see that.”
 
Rosie raised her left eyebrow and nodded.  She folded her arms across her chest and smiled.

“Is there something I can help you with?” 
Blushing, Kaylee slid from beneath Bastian’s weight. 

Rosie laughed and pointed. 
“Not unless he’s got a brother I can borrow.” 

Bastian shook his head. 
“Sorry, just a sister, but thanks for asking.”
 

“Rosie, did you need to tell me something?  Is that why you are here.” 
Kaylee rubbed at her temple, touching her cheeks, knowing a heated flush colored them. 

Rosie shook her head and the beads woven into her hair tapped together.  “I work here, remember?  That’s why I’m here.
 
But I guess I should warn you that your mama’s on the warpath.  Said you needed
to call her when you came in.  She repeated herself four times, as if I were retarded.”

“I’ll call her when I’m damn
ed
well ready.” 
Kaylee gritted her teeth.

“Good.  Why don’t you save yourself some grief and make it the twelfth of never.  Now you two can get back to what you were doing.  That seems more important, anyhow.”  Rosie
ambled from the room and waved as she left
.

“So this is where you want me to teach?” 
For a moment
,
Bastian looked around the room, his boots thudding against the floor as he walked.

“Yeah.  It’s a fair-sized studio.”  Kaylee paced the room.

“Damn sure is a lot of wall space.” 
Bastian focused on the large
,
blank spots between the windows where pictures should have been hung.  He reached out and touched one of the walls.

“You’re an artist.  You should have no problem filling
it.
”

“Fair enough.  When are you going to tell your mother?”
He, too, paced the room, staring at Kaylee, who had withdrawn into her own little world once Rosie had exited.  She stared at the floor and absently twirled a lock of hair around her finger. 

“When I don’t have to.” 
Kaylee stopped walking in mid-stride.  A grimace contorted her features. 

Bastian gritted his teeth. 
“You mean when you can’t hide it anymore.” 

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Kaylee
said
curtly.

“You talk like your illness is up for debate, Kaylee.”  He paced around the room with a sudden burst of frenetic energy.  “This isn’t just about you.  It’s about your family, too.  Have you thought about what you’re hiding from them?”

“That’s rich coming from someone who doesn’t even talk about his family.  You’ve hardly said a word about what your life was like growing up, but I can tell things aren’t so hot between you and your father.”
  Kaylee frowned.  “
You can tell me what supplies you need
,
and I’ll have Rosie get them for you.  Classes are scheduled to start a week from Thursday.  Is that enough time to get ready?” 
Kaylee brushed past him and walked to the desk in the corner of the room. 

Bastian cringed 
“It’s never going to be enough, Kaylee.”
   He lifted his hand and rubbed his temple as though a headache had begun to flower beneath the skin.

“It has to be.  We all just have to do the best we can and hope something comes of it.” 
Kaylee lifted her hand and massaged her neck, trying to ease tension knotted there. 

“You’re pretty damn
ed
good at changing the subject when you want, aren’t you?”
Bastian
growled.  He
stopped pacing and leveled his gaze at Kaylee. 

“Bastian, there are a thousand details about this studio that have to be worked out.  I’m trying to focus my energy.” 
Kaylee opened the top drawer and sifted through the contents, finding a Post-It pad, a spiral pad, two pens
,
and a sketchbook.  Other odds and ends, such as pen lids and paper clips
,
were strewn
about
the bottom of the drawer.

He started pacing again. 
“You’re trying to focus, all right, anywhere but on this topic.
 
Maybe you’re right.  Maybe I don’t talk about my family and I don’t let you in.  Maybe that’s because I’ve made the mistake you’re trying so damned hard to make
so
I’m working double
-
time to prevent it.”