Entertaining Angels (24 page)

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “I guess you could say that my zest for fun and acceptance led to a reputation as a boy-crazy party girl, which probably made parents leery of me. But I wasn’t that bad.”

“I’m sure you weren’t.”

She caught a hint of something in his eyes. Compassion? Sympathy? She couldn’t be sure.

Maybe it was something he’d learned in divinity school, something that made him good at his job as a counselor of wounded souls.

The guidance counselor at school had wanted Kristy to talk to a shrink, but she never had. She’d thought about it on several occasions, but her life had been so caught up with Gram and a newborn that one day had blurred into the next.

So what would it hurt to be candid with Craig? It’s not like this foolish attraction was going anywhere.

“School came incredibly easy,” she admitted, “and I was often bored. But I was smart enough to know a college degree was the way to go. But then I went to an unchaperoned party, had too much to drink, and made a stupid mistake. So, long story short, my college aspirations bit the dust.”

Ironically, after getting pregnant, she’d found herself shunned by the very people she’d wanted to accept her.

“You can always go back to school,” he said.

Yeah, right. She wanted to make some kind of snappy retort, but the gentleness in his eyes threatened to steal the bark out of her bite.

“Maybe I will someday,” she said.

When Gram could take care of herself.

When Jason no longer needed a sitter.

And when money grew on trees.

She did, of course, have that cash tucked away in the wooden jewelry box in her drawer. She could always use that to help fund her college, if she were to go back to school. That is, if she didn’t spend it in the meantime on something far more important, like food, utilities, medical bills …

“Well,” Craig said, glancing at his watch. “As much as I’d like to stay, I can’t be late to that meeting. Will you let Lorraine know I stopped by and that I’ll try to come back later in the week?”

“Of course.”

Kristy stood to walk him to the door, and they came together in the middle of the room. Yet instead of pushing through, they slowed to a stop, and their gazes locked.

Craig placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a warm, gentle squeeze. “I really admire you, Kristy.”

His touch, the intensity of his gaze, set off a surge in her bloodstream until she could hear her pulse thundering in her ears.

She could really trip up here. Really make a crazy mistake.

“I’m not sure why.” She tore her gaze away from his, daring him to give her something around which she could wrap her hope. Something she could believe.

“Because you’re a bright, beautiful young woman. You’re also devoted and loving. You’ve put your own life on hold and are doing your best to take care of your son and a disabled woman who someone else might have put in a convalescent home by now.”

“I couldn’t do that.”

“Obviously not.” His hand slid over the edge of her shoulder and along her upper arm, until he let it drop slowly to his side, leaving her to grieve a connection she didn’t deserve.

Before she could say something she would probably regret, the front door swung open, and Jason stepped into the house, announcing he was home and hungry.

The interruption saved her from venturing into a conversation
that was jury-rigged with possibilities that were doomed to fail.

A sea of hopeless possibilities in which her thoughts had already drifted.

Before dinner, Shana returned to the park for another run. At least, that’s the excuse she’d given her mother.

She placed her iPod in the holder on her upper arm, tucked the hem of her tank top into the waistband of her running shorts, then tucked the strands of her hair out of the way as she adjusted the earphones.

But truthfully? She really wasn’t in the mood for music.

Or for exercise.

On her way to the jogging paths, as she neared the cinder-block restrooms in the middle of the park, a man with long, shaggy hair and a beard walked toward her.

“Good afternoon,” he said.

She nodded to acknowledge his greeting.

“Going for another run?” he asked.

Again, she merely nodded, trying to be polite yet not wanting to chitchat with a stranger, particularly one who appeared to be homeless.

“Some things can’t be escaped,” he said.

She wanted to turn her back to him and pick up her pace, but something gentle in his expression, in those pristine blue eyes, gave her pause.

What was it? Compassion? Understanding? Wisdom?

“Sometimes,” he said, “confrontations are the only way out.”

She was going to write him off as a nutcase, yet for some crazy reason, she couldn’t bring herself to walk away.

“That’s sometimes easier said than done,” she said.

Why in the world had she even talked to someone like him? He could be having some kind of psychotic episode, and she was setting herself up to be sucked into it.

So who was the real Looney Tune here?

She turned to her left, toward the baseball fields.

“You’ve got to do the right thing,” he said to her back, “even when it’s the hardest thing in the world to do.”

Her steps slowed, her lips parted, and she wanted to both laugh at the absurdity of his words and cry at their truth.

In spite of knowing better, she turned toward him as though facing her accuser.

“You’ve had a lousy childhood,” he said.

He was wrong there. She’d had a perfect childhood.

“On the outside, everything looked wonderful, but it wasn’t. And you’re doomed to make the same mistakes that your parents made if you don’t make some changes, mistakes that will make you unhappy for a very long time. You have a choice to make. Make it with honesty, self-confidence, and strength.”

He seemed to know what she struggled with, and while she wanted to write him off, she couldn’t help responding as though she’d been the one to seek him out and ask for his advice. “That’s tough to do when I’ve always chosen the easiest way out.”

“Things happen, people change. And you’re a lot stronger and braver than you think.” Then he doffed an imaginary hat, turned and walked away.

She stood in the center of the park for the longest time, stunned by what the man had said, by what he’d seemed to know.

When she finally glanced over her shoulder to take another gander at him, he was gone.

It was almost as if he’d never been there at all.

Surely her imagination was playing tricks on her. So, shaking off his words, she continued toward the ball fields.

The sun had lowered in the western sky. If she wanted to finish her run before dark, she’d need to get started.

Again, she realized it wasn’t an endorphin fix that she was seeking.

Just as she’d hoped, a Jeep Wrangler was parked in the lot nearest the third-base line. And a group of boys huddled around their handsome Latino coach.

Her feet slowed as though trudging through a slough, and her heart skittered across her chest.

“Matt,” Ramon said, “you take first base.”

The kid dashed off to do as he was told.

Shana stood silently, watching Ramon make his assignments. When all nine positions had been filled, he gave the remaining boys a task.

She watched them for a while, long enough to see that he was good to the kids, that they obviously respected him.

When he glanced up and spotted her, he smiled. Then, after instructing one of the boys to hit balls to the others, he cut across the field, as though planning to meet her at the fence.

No invitation was necessary, and she soon found herself within arm’s length of him. But it was more than a stretch of chain link separating them.

“I’m glad you stopped by,” he said.

Was he?

How glad?

Before she could respond, a small, dark-haired boy ran up to him. “Coach, you forgot about me. What do you want me to do?”

A grin stretched across Ramon’s face, and he tousled the boy’s shaggy hair. “I was just going to give you a job when I spotted an old friend.”

The boy glanced at Shana, as though assessing her and determining her to be a suitable distraction. “She doesn’t look so old to me.”

Ramon laughed, then turned to Shana. “This is Carlitos, our pitcher’s brother. He wanted to play on the intercity team with us, which would have been fine with me. He’s one heck of a shortstop and one of the best batters. But the league
rules are strict. Only kids between the ages of ten and twelve can play on the team. So we made him our bat boy and the junior coach.”

“Yeah,” the boy said, grinning from ear to ear. “I tell them when they’re messing up.”

Ramon placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave him an affectionate squeeze.

He’d make a great father, she realized, her heart crumpling into a shell of its former self.

Unable to speak, she tried to feign a smile.

“Tell David to practice pitching just outside the dugout,” Ramon instructed. “Then I’d like you to catch for him. Try to help him stay in the strike zone, okay?”

“You got it, coach.” The boy took off at a run, calling for David.

Ramon returned his attention to Shana, his full attention. His gaze caressed the length of her.

“Running again?” he asked.

She nodded.

Some things can’t be escaped.

She shook off the homeless man’s words and offered Ramon a wobbly smile.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said.

She gave a little half-shrug, hoping the meeting seemed coincidental. “I saw your car, so I thought I’d stop by and say hello.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Sometimes confrontations are necessary and the only way out.

But not today.

And maybe not ever.

Because some conversations, like some memories, were too painful to have, too heartbreaking to resurrect.

Craig was just leaving the church on Friday morning when he glanced across the street and noticed Kristy’s car at Mulberry Park. He’d had a meeting with the board of elders earlier, and now that he had a break, he planned to spring a surprise visit on the contractor who was working at the house into which he would soon be moving.

Yet as much as he wanted to get out of the Delacourts’ den and into his own place, he couldn’t help taking the time to cross the street and talk to Kristy again. There was something about the single mother that appealed to him, and whatever it was increased each time he saw her.

Since that day he’d spotted her and Jason at the playground, he’d gotten in the habit of searching for her car whenever he stepped onto the church property.

He couldn’t explain it. She wasn’t anything like the other young women he’d dated in the past.

Today she was sitting at one of the picnic tables, watching her son play on the teeter-totter with another boy, but she seemed to sense his approach before he got within fifty yards of her and looked up.

“Tired of swinging already?” he asked.

Her breezy smile nearly knocked the wind out of him. “We brought Tommy with us today. I only play with Jason when he doesn’t have a friend with him.”

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, nodding at the space beside her.

“No, not at all.”

He sat quietly awhile, pretending to watch the kids on the playground, yet his thoughts were on the woman sitting next to him. “Who’s with your grandmother?”

“Charlie Iverson,” she said. “One of our neighbors. His late wife was Gram’s friend.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“Yes, it is. Most of the neighbors, at least the ones who’ve lived on Sugar Plum Lane for any period of time, offer to help out once in a while. They remember the old Gram, the one who used to used to make chicken soup for them when they were sick or bring in the mail and newspaper when they went out of town.”

“It’s good that you can get out once in a while without having to pay someone to sit with her.”

“You’re right, but I try not to take advantage of their kindness by asking too much or too often.”

The sun glistened off strands of gold highlights in her auburn hair, and he was again caught up in his attraction, in her beauty.

“Do you think you can find someone to sit with her and Jason tomorrow night?” he asked.

“I can try. Why?”

“Because I’d like to take you to dinner.”

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted. Apparently, she was nearly as surprised by his question as he was.

“Are you kidding?”

Actually, the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. “No, I’m not.”

She paused for a beat, as though pondering her response. “I’ll admit to a bit of attraction on my part, but I’m really not the kind of woman a minister should date.”

He sensed that she might have a point, although it didn’t seem to matter right now.

“Why is that?” he asked.

“For one thing, I’m a single mother and know very little about the guy who fathered my son. Not that I wouldn’t recognize him if I saw him, but he disappeared from the planet after it happened.” A strand of hair whipped across her cheek, and she brushed it aside.

He hated to see her beat herself up over something that couldn’t be undone. “You have nothing to feel guilty about, Kristy. The way I see it, you were blessed with a beautiful son.”

“That’s true.” Her gaze drifted to the playground, where Jason played with his friend, oblivious to their discussion. “He was born on Valentine’s Day, nearly six weeks early. But he was a fighter, like I used to be, and I fell in love with him the moment I saw him.”

“So why be so hard on yourself for a teenage mistake? How old were you?”

“Sixteen.”

“You were just a kid. I can’t imagine anyone holding that against you. And neither should you.”

“It’s not that so much. I’ve learned to accept being a single mom and I’m making the best of things.”

For a moment, he leaned toward pursuing a relationship with her, and two beats later, he leaned the other way.

He’d spent the bulk of his life trying to live up to a certain standard—his father’s, his grandfather’s. His own.