Angel Be Good (11 page)

Beside his computer, he moved a little
gadget that resembled a small rat with a long tail. How weird.
Would she ever get used to such advanced technology?

Still unable to meet her gaze, he asked,
"What's next?"

"Your future." She returned to her chair at
the conference table, no longer able to keep pretending she didn't
care and wasn't hurt.

"Aren't you going to watch?"

She rubbed the cold marble surface, its hard
smooth exterior so like Nat's. Her finger stumbled on a tiny
fissure.

"Please?" he asked, his expression bleak.
Her resolve crumbled. It didn't matter if he loved her. She loved
him enough for both of them. He needed her.

She got up and walked behind his desk, her
hand coming to rest on his shoulder. "I'm here."

He reached up to wrap her hand in his.
"You're the best there is, Daphne, and I—" His voice faltered. "I
don't deserve you."

"Sure you do, Nat ol' boy." She retreated
behind her flip persona, glad for the safety it provided. "I've
been sent directly from heaven. If they say you deserve me, then by
golly, I expect you do."

The computer screen sprang to life, the
speakers shouting out, "Good Morning, Vietnam!"

The future sounded an awful lot like her
past. Her gut clenched, the voice being reminiscent of a disc
jockey filling the airwaves when she'd been in Nam. Then the screen
filled with images of Henrietta and little Laura.

Henri stood in front of a suitcase seated on
a bed. She slowly folded clothing, placing it in the case while
Laura sat stoically beside her, eyes wide, face expressionless.

"You'll love Michigan, Laura. We'll live
with Grandpa in a real house, not an apartment like this. Can you
imagine? A backyard with a swing set of your own and even a
sandbox."

Laura blinked but didn't answer.

Henri's face crumpled. She dropped the gown
she folded on the bed and placed her hands on each side of Laura's
face. "Oh, pet, I just wish you would say something. Anything. Or
even smile."

A tear leaked from the child's eyes. "When
Daddy went to heaven, he took my smiles."

Henri kissed the tear, then cloaked the
child in her arms. "I know, dear, he took mine too. But I promise,
someday we'll both smile again. Daddy wants us to be happy.
Remember your promise?"

"I remember, Mommy, but I hurt so much."

"It's best to share it, let it out. Daddy
always told us that."

"He was funny, wasn't he? Always laughing
and teasing us. I like to remember him like that."

"That's what he wants us to remember. And,
Laura, we may not see him, but I know he's still here with us. He's
here in our hearts and in our souls."

Laura nodded sagely. "We'll have to tease
each other for him."

"That's right."

"I understand about selling our things,
Mommy."

Henri pulled back a little. "What do you
understand?"

"I heard you talking with . . . cousin Nat,
Mr. Danvers." She patted her mother's face. "Don't be sad. You can
have my piggy bank to pay the hospital."

"That's so sweet, honey. I appreciate your
offering to help, but I'm sure I'll find some way to pay it all
back. There are funds and charities set up for people that don't
have insurance."

"Why did Mr. Danvers take away Daddy's
job?"

The older woman covered her face with her
hands. "I wish I knew. The man is cruelty personified. Percy was
the kindest person alive and that he could be related to that
monster is incredible." She dropped her hands. "Let's not think
about him, okay?"

As Laura nodded, her face faded into shadow.
Then the screen came alive again. It showed Nat's office. Here was
the marble conference table. There was the bar. Then the view
panned in on Nat, seated behind his desk. He scrawled his name
across a paper, then pushed it aside and grabbed another document
from a stack and signed his name once more.

*

Nat held tightly to Daphne's hand as he
watched himself on the monitor. By the new lines on his face, he
had aged a year, maybe two, but he still looked virile and fit. For
once, he'd gotten his money's worth. The future Nat wore the same
tie he'd worn this day.

The sound of a man's raised voice erupted
over the computer speakers. Then he heard a loud bang, like the
sound of a gunshot. The future Nat stood, clearly wondering what
was going on. Dropping his pen, he strode toward the door.

It flew open before he reached it. Nat
halfway expected it to be Daphne, the scene was so reminiscent of
tonight. But instead, it was a man, Dawson Smith, an employee in
the distribution department at Danvers and Son. In his hand, he
held a gun.

In the background, Nat could see his
secretary with a look of horror on her face. Why didn't she move?
Call security like she'd been trained?

The camera angle widened and Nat saw the
answer. His security chief, Curtis, lay bleeding on the floor in
the outer office, his face pale from loss of blood.

He watched himself become as white faced as
the security man. "Put down the gun, Smith."

Instead, Smith took careful aim. Took a bead
on Nat's forehead.

"You think you can play God, don't you,
Danvers? You think you can just snatch away jobs without any
consequences. Well, you thought wrong."

"Let's talk about it, Smith. If you have a
problem, maybe I can help."

Smith was past the point of reasoning. "Talk
won't pay the bills. Talk won't make my wife come back to me. No,
Danvers. It's time you paid for the lives you've destroyed.

"You know what? People will thank me. I'll
probably be a public hero." Smith laughed wildly, then pulled back
the hammer on the deadly revolver trained on Nat's face. "All
because I had the courage to blow a hole through your nasty little
head."

The image disappeared from the monitor.

Nat's hand squeezed Daphne's then released
it. He spun his chair to look at her. "What the hell is this?"

She looked at him solemnly. "I believe it's
your future, Nat."

"Surely, this isn't set in stone? I can do
something to keep it from happening?"

Daphne shook her head. "I don't know. I'd
think that you could, but I don't know." She pointed back to the
computer.

Nat turned unwillingly, to see another
scene, wondering if he'd just watched the prelude to his own death.
The monitor showed the 49th Street Bridge again, a crisp rainy
night. Below the bridge was a flicker of firelight and the focus
closed in on it.

The father was there as before, cooking
something over the fire, but his face looked closed, drawn, even
thinner than before. A small hand reached out to stroke the
father's craggy face. Nat saw the little girl, Sue.

"It smells good, Poppa."

The father nodded at her and poked at the
embers. The view widened. The two were there alone. Where was the
mother? Where was Harry, the little boy?

The girl pulled a dirty envelope from under
her sweater and tentatively offered it to her father.

The man's lips quivered but he took the
envelope and slit it open with his finger. Nat watched the man's
hand shake wildly as he pulled out a magazine clipping. It was the
picture of a well-dressed man in a business suit.

The father coughed, trying to work up
enthusiasm for the girl's gift, but the coughing filled his chest
and lungs.

The girl wrapped her arms around him. "Time
for more medicine, Poppa. Where is it?"

He gestured toward his upper pocket. She
pulled a bottle from beneath the layers of grimy clothing and
uncorked it, then held it to her father's lips.

He took a long swig. "I'm better now, Sue.
You've given me a fine gift. I'll dream well tonight."

"I know you will, Poppa. Here, now," she
pulled his head into her lap. "Close your eyes and rest. We'll
dream together."

He reached up and patted her cheek. "We'll
dream of last Christmas and how we were still all together. We'll
dream of your Momma and Harry. We'll dream of our family."

Nat felt tears spilling from his eyes and he
didn't care. Somehow, this family had broken through the ice
contracting his heart. He'd genuinely cared for them and how they'd
had their dreams and love. Now it was shattered. He had to do
something. There had to be a way to change destiny. Looking up, he
saw that Daphne had taken a seat on his desk top, her face buried
in her hands.

His jaw clenched. "I promise you, Daph, this
won't happen. This is something I know I can change."

"I'm not so certain you can."

"At the very least, I can make sure they
aren't living under a bridge, that they're well fed and dressed. I
may not be able to do much else, but that I can do." He ran his
hand through her dark curls. "And, if I can change that, it means
that everything is subject to change. Think it through logically
and you'll see I'm right."

She removed her hands and lifted her tear
ravaged face. "Do it now, Nat. Do it now."

He grabbed the telephone receiver, intending
to do exactly as she directed, then grimaced. The line remained
dead. "No dial tone."

She jumped off the desk and grabbed his arm.
"There's got to be a phone somewhere in this building that works. I
intend to find it."

"Wait, Daphne." He pointed at the computer
which was alive with visions of Christmas in the city, life
continuing as before. "There appears to be more."

Her lips tightened, but she nodded. "We'll
do it as soon as this is over. Promise?"

"I promise, Daphne. I'll note it in my
planner and no matter what, I'll take care of that family."

She smiled and flung her arms around his
neck. "I trust you to keep your word. Thank you."

Her words bit into his conscience. She
trusted him. Watching her settle back onto his desktop, he saw
emotions skitter across her face. She was so obvious, nothing
hidden or secretive about her.

A chink appeared in the chain around his
chest, a link parted, fell away. Nat felt it as surely as if he'd
been plunged into an ocean of freezing water. Something happened
inside him. An opening. An awareness.

Another link fell, and then another. Aware
the future was being revealed on the monitor, aware he was missing
it and whatever messages heaven intended for him, he still couldn't
tear his gaze away from Daphne's dear face.

Then it hit him with all the clarity of a
knife puncturing his chest. He did believe. Good heavens. He
believed. He believed because he loved Daphne. Loved every inch of
her impish soul.

Reaching forward, he snapped off the power
button on his monitor. Daphne squealed. "Turn it back on!"

"I love you, Daphne."

"What?" Her eyes darted from the monitor to
him.

"I love you, Daphne-With-No-Last-Name." He
stood up then climbed on his chair and swung out his arms. "I love
you, Daphne!"

She giggled.

"Stop giggling. I'm serious."

"Sure you are."

Jumping down from his chair, he grabbed her
shoulders then tenderly brushed his rough face against her silken
cheek. "You can trust me because I love you, Daph."

The pupils of her eyes dilated as she
continued staring into his eyes. Now he could meet her gaze
proudly, knowing that she'd see nothing in his soul besides the
greatness of feeling he had for her.

Kissing her swiftly on the lips as a
reassurance, he felt like singing. He took both of her hands into
his own, then lowered one knee onto the floor beside her feet.

"Get up, silly. I can't see you down
there."

"Nope. Can't get up until you give me your
promise."

"What promise is that?"

"That you'll marry me, Daphne. Please, don't
leave. Stay here and marry me. Have babies with me. Keep me on the
straight and narrow." He gnawed at the interior of his cheek. "With
you here, I know I'll be good and kind, Daph. I can do anything
when you're beside me."

~~~~

Chapter Seven

Daphne slid down from the desk, landing
between his legs. She ran her hand through his hair. Shifting, he
captured her palm and kissed it.

"Nat, I'd like to make that promise." Nat
watched the color leave her face. Her voice came out in a whisper.
"But I can't."

He stood, then pulled her tightly into his
arms, wondering why, when he'd finally learned to love someone more
than himself, he had to lose her. And knowing it was best that she
was leaving since someone as wonderful as she couldn't really love
a man like him. He couldn't bear the idea of seeing revulsion on
her face when she woke up to that fact. He didn't deserve her but
that didn't make him want her any less.

The speakers on the computer came alive with
music. Nat reluctantly released Daphne. She shifted to turn the
monitor back on.

Now he saw a white-haired Maria, surrounded
by her family at midnight mass. Amazingly, although it was apparent
her voice was a whisper, he could hear the prayer she offered,
could feel the pleading in her voice. "Please save my Lucinda.
She's a good girl, really she is. But what's life got to offer her?
If only I could find a way to send her far away from this place and
all the drugs."

Her face and voice faded and were replaced
by two men, deep in conversation. Nat saw that one was a police
officer and the other was his Vice President of Development, Walter
Coleman. Walter was probably the only employee under his wing that
he'd considered indispensable.

Walter was also the only man he knew who was
harder and colder than himself, and Nat had made it worth Walter's
time to always look after Nat's best interests. It was a value
system he'd fully understood. He'd bought and paid for Walter and
they both knew it.

The two men stood in Nat's outer office, his
secretary no longer on the scene. They appeared to be arguing.