Doubting Thomas (Tarnished Saints Series) (10 page)

Chapter 10

Thomas wiped his hands in a rag, frustrated that the transmission was giving him so much trouble. He’d found one easily enough in the junkyard this morning, and thanks to Daniel he’d had the help he needed removing it and hauling it home.

He had thought about what Angel said yesterday, that he never let his children play. Then he thought about Jake’s outburst that he never let them eat cookies or candy. Their mother had always let them eat the cookies Agnes sent over. But when Brianne had gotten sick and the bills started rolling in, everything changed. They’d had to sell most everything they’d owned, and in her final days in the hospital, Thomas had moved into the cabin with the boys.

He had his father to thank for the cabin and lake property, as Thomas had collected his inheritance early. But because he was land poor, he hadn’t even bought an oven to be able to bake cookies in the first place. He found they could save so much money by using a wood-burning stove to cook, and using lanterns instead of the electric.

He had the electric hookup but chose only to use it when he needed to work well into the night and couldn’t see under the hood of the cars. He had it in the house, too, but through the years even his boys had gotten used to doing things by lantern or candlelight.

He sent Dan to town in the pickup to pay the taxes today. After buying the trans and putting away a small amount for Sam’s operation, Thomas had had fifty dollars left. He’d given some of it to Dan to take the boys to town for ice cream to try to counteract the whole cookie episode. He’d also told him to stop by the flea market on the way home and get Eli a pair of shoes. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to buy the boy another pair of new shoes, but he knew these would conveniently be lost within the next week or two anyway.

He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm and pulled his hair into a queue fastening a rubberband around it. It was a scorcher today, and he was damned thirsty. He sat down on a bale of hay, his eyes roaming to the bottle hiding half way behind yet another bale. A good shot of whiskey would do the trick just as well.

He got up and walked over to the bottle, thinking one small swig wouldn’t hurt anything. Then he remembered the night Fawn died. The night he was passed-out on his desk with a bottle in his hand and the drawer unlocked, his gun gone. If only he had been sober, Fawn may be alive today. If he had been sober, he would know who it was that stole his gun and killed his wife.

He cursed and punched his fist into the bale of hay, a small shadow from the open barn door falling over him.

“Where’ve you been, Ezekial? I sent your brothers to town for ice cream but I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

He looked up, but to his surprise, it wasn’t Zeke standing before him, but a little girl with long blond curls and big curious blue eyes. She wore a flowered orange sundress and had sandals on her feet.

“Who are you?” he growled, like he usually did when a trespasser came onto his land.

“I’m Gabby,” she said, not at all afraid of him.

“Well, where are your parents? And why didn’t they see my Keep Out signs by the road?”

“My daddy is dead,” she said. “And my mommy is lost somewhere in the woods. I was hoping you could help me find her.”

Suddenly, he knew exactly what had happened. The girl had wandered off from her mother and now the woman would be coming to look for her, trespassing on his property, asking all kinds of questions.

“What’s your mother’s name?” he asked her. “I’ll call for her and maybe she’ll hear us if she’s not too far away.”

“Her name is Mommy.”

Of course. Why should he think any different? Wasn’t every kid’s mother named Mommy? He should have known better than to ask.

“All right,” he said. “I suppose we can call Mommy, but I just thought if she had another name, she might know we wanted her specifically.”

“Oh,” she said. “She does have another name, but I don’t call her by it.”

“Good. Well, what is it?”

“Angel.”

His body stiffened and suddenly he felt as if God had heard his cries for help and sent someone to him after all. Angel. The angel he asked for, and she was right here in his woods.

“Come on,” he said, taking her by the hand, eager to find his guardian angel to lead him out of his hell. He guided her toward the trees and called at the top of his lungs.

“Angel. Angel, can you hear me? If so, I’ve got Gabby. Follow my voice and come get her.”

“I hear you,” came a beautiful voice from the woods. His prayers had been answered. “I’m coming, Gabby, don’t be scared.”

He anxiously awaited the woman. It was too much a coincidence he’d prayed for an angel and now a little lost girl with a mother named Angel had come to his door.

The leaves crunched and twigs snapped and he caught the flash of pink and purple as someone made their way toward him. Then he saw a glimpse of red hair and realized Zeke was leading this woman to him. Odd, he thought, but he was thankful Zeke had heard him also.

“Gabby, baby, I’m here,” cried the woman as she stepped out of the woods into full view. His mouth dropped open when he laid eyes on his angel. Angeline DeMitri, the thorn in his side, rushed forward and embraced the little girl in a hug. “Oh, baby, I was so scared.”

“Don’t be scared, Mommy,” Gabby said with a smile. “I told this nice man you were lost in the woods and he helped me find you.”

Angel stood and faced him, and her eyes interlocked with his. Both of them stood silent for a moment, then he voiced his thoughts aloud.

“Angel? Short for Angeline, I suppose,” he said in a low voice, just shaking his head.

“Yes.” Her tongue shot out and licked her dry lips and her essence of lilacs floated on the breeze to fill his senses. “Thank you for finding my daughter.”

“I didn’t find her, she found me.”

She, as well as the angel he’d prayed for had found him, but it wasn’t at all what he’d expected. What kind of cruel joke was God playing on him? This woman was a nosey busybody who entered his home without his permission, given his boys cookies after he’d told her not to, and kept coming back like a bad penny. She wasn’t what he’d prayed for at all.

“Well, I thank you again for your hospitality.”

“I’ve never been hospitable nor do I ever intend to be.” He headed back toward the barn, and she followed.

“Hi,” he heard Gabby talking to Zeke.

“Hi,” Zeke answered back. “Want to see my kittens?”

“Sure,” she said and they headed for the house.

“You, Thomas Taylor, are the most stubborn and rudest man I’ve ever met. Can’t you for once stop threatening people and try to be human?” Angel faced him, hands on her hips.

“You’ve got your daughter, now leave.” He picked up a wrench and stuck his head under the hood of the car.

“Your own sons are afraid of you, and you are so mean you won’t even let them enjoy the pleasures of childhood.”

“I don’t need you telling me how to raise my boys, thank you.”

She held onto the hood as she spoke. “I’m only calling it as I see it. Your refrigerator is empty and you make your boys sleep on the floor.”

You don’t know what you’re talking about. He jerked upward and she pulled back, the hood falling down in the process. He pulled his hand away, but not quick enough. His knuckles got nicked by the edge of the hood as it slammed shut.

“Ow!” he yelled, followed by a curse. The wrench clattered to the ground landing on his foot. He hopped up and down, held his hand, and looked at her with a stiff frown on his face. “Why have you come to ruin my life? Why don’t you just leave me alone?”

“I’m not trying to ruin your life. It seems to me you’re doing a good enough job of that by yourself.” She grabbed his hand and pulled it toward her. “Now stop your complaining and let me see your owie.”

She sounded so ridiculous, his anger left and he almost laughed. Who did she think she was talking to? A five year old?

“Owie?” he said with a half grin, letting her take his hand in hers. The feel of her soft skin against his rough and callused skin sent a surge of emotion through him. She cradled his hand, running her finger over the top of his nicked knuckles and he felt himself oddly attracted to her. It was probably just that no one had showed him any kindness in a long time now.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m used to talking to Gabby. It just slipped.”

She released his hand and with it went the warmth and feeling of care. He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, trying to ignore the emotions she raised within him. These emotions were more than aggravation and irritation. These were feelings coursing through him making him want to get to know her better.

“I’ll go get Gabby and leave now. Thank you for finding her.”

His eyes popped open and an odd feeling of desperation ran its course through him. He didn’t want her to go. Not really. A part of him begged her to stay.

“No. Stay,” he commanded.

“What?” She looked up at him with her shining eyes and cocked her head. “You’ve been demanding I leave, and now you insist I stay. I don’t get it.”

Neither did he. “Stay. Please,” he said, not liking the way he sounded as if he were begging. He was too proud to beg, even for this. “I thought about what you said. I didn’t really give you a fair chance. Can I offer you a lemonade?” he asked.

She looked at him and then over to the house.

“The kids will be fine for awhile. Zeke is just showing her the kittens.”

“All right,” she answered cautiously, still looking around.

He walked to the back of the pole barn, threw open the door to his extra fridge, and snagged two bottles of ice cold old fashioned lemonade. He turned to go back, and almost bumped into her, as she stood right behind him.

“The fridge in the house may be nearly empty, but this one is stocked full.” He twisted off the tops and handed one to her. “Pull up a bale of hay.”

Angel took the bottle from him, settling herself atop a bale of hay. She was surprised at the fact he had not only an extra fridge in the pole barn, but a standup deep freeze as well. Maybe he wasn’t starving the kids like she’d thought. Still, she noticed cold drinks in the fridge when he’d opened it, but not an excess of food.

He sat down on a bale next to her, tilting back his head as he took a deep draw of the beverage. One pull, and half the bottle’s liquid disappeared. She took a sip herself, so distracted by his bare chest and tight jeans she accidentally dribbled. He smiled, and reached out a hand to wipe the lemonade off her chin.

His hand touching her in such a gentle, caring manner, made her drop her caution. She involuntarily leaned in to his touch, her eyes closing briefly as she rubbed her cheek slightly against his hand. The smell of hay, transmission fluid, and spring air mingled together in an odd combination, but she loved it. So Thomas Taylor was human after all.

“Your daughter told me you lost your husband. I’m sorry.”

She opened her eyes.

“Yes. Three years ago. Brad was a cop killed in the line of duty.” She played with the condensation on the bottle, dragging her finger through it, not looking at him when she spoke. “It’s not easy.”

“I know how you feel. I’ve lost two wives,” he told her.

“Yes, I’ve heard. I’m sorry.”

“Brianne, my first wife, died from cancer. It all happened so fast.”

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t know quite what to say. She knew this must be hard for him to talk about, but he’d brought up the subject so she decided just to listen.

“And my second wife, Fawn, was murdered six months ago. Most people think I did it since the bullet that killed her came from a gun just like the one I had locked in my desk. The one that disappeared the night of the shooting.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” she asked, feeling uncomfortable. Sudden thoughts of him possibly being a murderer had her wondering if she was safe. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the details while she was alone with him.

“I’m telling you because I want you to know the truth. I’m so damned sick and tired of people listening to rumors about me.”

“Well?” she asked.

Thomas took another drink and looked at her in question. “Well what?”

“Did you . . .” She played with the bottle again, not looking at him when she spoke.

“Kill her?” Thomas finished the sentence for her. He felt a knot forming in his stomach.

She was no different than anyone else after all.

She looked up at him slowly, cautiously, as if she wasn’t sure it was safe to stare. His eyes interlocked with hers, searching for something within her to tell him she was different. That she was his angel. He found nothing. He looked down to the bottle in his hand, finished off one last swig, then tossed it into the garbage can across the barn, landing it directly inside.

“If you have to ask, then you must believe the rumors.” He stood, his disposition soured, and started to walk away.

She put her bottle on the floor, jumped up, and grabbed him by the arm. He turned, his eyes settling on her hand, then traveling upward to her face.