"Tell me something I don't know," she said wearily.
"You have to be realistic, Loretta. You're going to have a child to support. It's not easy being a single parent. I know."
She tossed the dish towel at him.
"Hey, I'm just telling the truth."
"You're depressing me. I don't want to be realistic." She patted her stomach. "False labor pains every other hour is realism, along with a huge stomach, night sweats, and the complete inability to sleep. That's real life. I'd rather dream."
"You're having a rough time, aren't you?" Andrew felt a deep sympathy toward her and a longing to take away her worries. He just didn't know how.
"I'm okay."
"Are you?"
"Some days I am. I do want this baby. I love her so much, it scares me. See, this baby doesn't know anything about me. It's like starting off with a clean slate. This baby won't care that I've made mistakes in my life. She won't care that no one likes me. She won't -- " Loretta's voice broke. "There I go again. Just ignore me," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "It's these darned hormones. They make me want to cry all the time. I need a tissue." She turned and fled into the back room.
Andrew looked over at the table of old-timers sitting against the wall. "Hey, Stu. Take over the bar for a sec, would you?"
"What's up with Loretta? You say something nasty to her again?"
"No."
The old white-haired man walked up to him. "See that you don't. She's a good girl, taking the blame for a lot of bad boys."
"I think you're right." Andrew walked around the bar and down the hall toward the office. It was a combination work area and supply room. Invoices and other papers covered the desk. Stacks of booze reached from the floor to the ceiling. Loretta sat in the chair behind the desk, her head on her forearms, her shoulders shaking as sobs tore out of her throat.
Andrew didn't know what to do. He didn't understand women. He had been completely baffled by his mother, then by Becky Lee. Even Kara had him scratching his head in confusion most of the time. And Loretta was, well, she was one of a kind.
He walked over and clumsily stroked her blond hair. It felt soft and silky beneath his fingertips. The strands glistened against his somewhat dirty fingers. He thought then that he had no right to be touching her hair, to be touching her at all. But he didn't want to stop. He wanted to run his hand down to her neck, to the tight muscles in her shoulders. He wanted to ease her discomfort.
"Loretta. You okay?" he asked finally.
She shook her head, still not looking at him.
"Come on, now. Don't cry." He walked behind her and rubbed her shoulders for a long five minutes.
"You're awfully nice, Andrew Joseph," she muttered, lifting her head to look at him with tearstained cheeks.
"So are you."
She stood up. "I feel all alone sometimes. But I'll be okay."
They stood there for a long moment, close but not touching. After a long mental debate, Andrew hauled her into his arms and pressed her face against his chest. "You're not alone tonight," he muttered.
Andrew closed his eyes and rested his chin on top of her head. Loretta fit perfectly in his arms. As if she had come home. Even the large curve of her stomach felt right. He remembered trying to hold Becky Lee when she was pregnant, but she had hated him getting close. Said she already felt as if her body was invaded; she didn't need a man pawing her on the outside as well. But this felt good. This felt more than good.
Loretta lifted her head. "I'm sorry, Andrew. I shouldn't be dumping on you like this. I guess I'm more tired than I thought."
"It's all right. These shoulders don't get much use anymore."
"That's a crime. They're very nice shoulders." She ran her hands up his arms and across his chest. "And you have a very nice chest." She tilted her head so she could see him more clearly. "And nice eyes and a really, really nice mouth."
Her gaze settled on his lips.
Andrew couldn't stand it anymore. He bent his head and kissed her hard. She tasted like the butterscotch candy she kept in an ashtray on the bar, sweet and tantalizing and definitely not good for him. But he didn't care. He couldn't resist her anymore. He couldn't resist himself.
Loretta kissed him back with the same desire, the same hunger. She moved her mouth in a way that left him breathless. And every time he tried to pull away, he came back for one last kiss.
Her body moved against his in a way that was no longer platonic but completely sexual. He wanted to have her naked beneath him. He wanted to bury himself inside her. He wanted ... What he wanted was absolutely impossible. He finally broke away.
"Andrew." She reached for him again, but he stepped back. The desire in her eyes was replaced by hurt. "Don't say it. Please don't say you're sorry."
"I am sorry."
"Stop. Just stop," she cried out.
"We can't do this, Loretta."
"Do what? We were kissing."
"But I wanted -- "
"You did?"
"Yes."
"Until you remembered who you were kissing."
"No, until I remembered who I wasn't kissing. I'm involved with Kara."
Loretta crossed her arms in front of her well-endowed chest. "You're just like the others. You want to have sex with me, but you want to marry someone else. I don't know why I'm surprised. You did it once before. Why not now?"
"What are you talking about?"
"The Sweethearts Dance, a month before your wedding. You were hard as a rock in my arms."
"Loretta, please. I was a kid then."
"You were hot for me, but you couldn't admit it. In fact, you only danced with me because Ryan was watching."
"That's the only reason you danced with me -- to make him jealous."
"I danced with you because I wanted to."
"You did?"
"Yes. But you were afraid of me then and you're afraid of me now."
"We wouldn't be compatible."
She smiled. "I think we would be very compatible."
"In bed, maybe, but not out of it. We're not the same type. You want to travel, to see the world. I like it here. I have everything I need. There's no reason to leave. What could the world offer me that Serenity Springs couldn't?"
The words flowed out of his mouth -- too easily. They were his father's words, not his. Just like the editorial. He could see in Loretta's eyes that she knew it only too well.
"When are you going to start living your own life, Andrew Joseph?"
"I am living my own life. I'm doing exactly what I want to do, and I'm going to marry Kara."
"If you're going to marry Kara, then why are you here with me?"
"Hell if I know. But I'm leaving right now. And I won't be back."
"Yes, you will," Loretta said.
He slammed the door on her words but he heard them, and he hoped to God she wasn't right.
"What are you doing here?" Angel asked the question without turning around. She sat on a large boulder a couple of feet above the river. Her backpack lay at her feet, and her gaze focused on the water washing over Tucker's Bridge.
"I'm looking for you, what do you think?" Ryan asked.
"Go away."
Ryan could barely hear her over the rush of the water. The wind had picked up, covering Angel's hair with a fine mist. In a few more minutes she'd be soaked through. Not to mention the fact that the boulder she was sitting on would soon become an island.
"I'm not leaving without you," he said. "It's dangerous out here."
"I like it."
She finally looked over her shoulder at him, her face a picture of pure youthful defiance. He instinctively reached for his camera, but it wasn't there. Damn. Over the years his camera had become more important to him than his wallet, but since arriving in Serenity Springs, he had found himself without it more often than not.
"Come on, kid, give me a break here." He stepped gingerly across a few of the rocks to get closer to her.
He didn't like the sound of the river or the wet, heavy smell of the air. It reminded him of the past, of the flood that changed his life, of the nightmares that haunted him for years. The monster was awakening, stretching and groaning, waking up from a twenty-five-year sleep to reclaim the land from those who would call it their own.
"I'm not moving," Angel declared, folding her arms across her chest as she sat cross-legged on the flat rock.
"You're moving if I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you back to the Gatehouse."
"Yeah, right."
Ryan looked at the river, at the slippery rocks separating him from Angel and then up at the sky, hoping divine intervention would be forthcoming. It wasn't. He couldn't leave Angel out here. She was a reckless, impetuous, angry young girl who wanted to run away, but this wasn't the place to run to.
"Why couldn't you go to the bus station like a normal person?"
"Last bus left at five o'clock. Won't be another one till tomorrow."
"Okay, you want to play hardball, right?"
Angel shrugged.
Ryan stepped over the rocks, taking care not to fall. By the time he reached Angel he was breathing heavily, not so much from exertion as from anxiety. It was stupid to be afraid of the water. He could swim. He could handle himself if he had to.
Angel stared at him thoughtfully. "You're scared, aren't you?"
"Me? Nah." He held out his hand to her. "Come on, get down."
"Can't you swim?"
"Course I can swim. I'm just not a big fan of white water." He grabbed her hand. "And if you don't get off this rock, we're both going to have a chance to ride the rapids without a raft."
"All right, but only because you're scared." Angel took his hand and slid off the rock. Together they made it back to higher ground. Ryan breathed more easily, even though Angel stubbornly sat down on a log instead of continuing up the path toward the Gatehouse. Finally he sat down next to her.
"So, what are you doing out here?" he asked.
"I'm waiting to see the river lady. She comes out when it starts to storm. She's my friend. My only friend."
Ryan cleared his throat and dug his hands into his pocket, not quite sure how to deal with this latest tale. "What does she talk to you about?"
"Different things. She's lonely."
Too. He muttered the last word under his breath.
"You don't believe me, do you?"
"Should I?"
"I don't care."
"Look, I'm not stupid. You packed a bag, locked your bedroom door, and climbed out the window. The way I see it, you're running away from home, and I don't think it has anything to do with this ghost."
"I'm going to see my dad," Angel admitted.
"Really? Might be hard to find him if he's undercover in Cairo or India or someplace."
Angel gave him a reluctant smile, still filled with the innocence of youth. No matter what she had been through, there was still a part of her that dreamed. Thank God for that.
"He's not really in the CIA," she said.
"No?" Ryan put a hand to his chest in mock surprise.
"You knew all the time."
"What does he do, then?"
"He sells computer parts. He does travel a lot." Her smile faded. "All the time, in fact." She picked up a stick and began to dig in the moist dirt by her feet.
"You miss him?"
"I'm not supposed to."
"But you do?"
"Yeah. Sometimes I wish..."
"What?" Ryan nudged her with his elbow when she didn't continue. "What do you wish?"
"It's silly."
"So? No one will hear but me and the river."
"I wish he was a secret agent instead of just a jerk."
"You think your dad's a jerk?"
Angel gave him a solemn look. "I saw him with another lady." She licked her lips and gazed out at the river. "I came home early from school one day. They were in Mom's bedroom. I thought it was Mom at first. They were laughing, and I liked the sound of it because my parents didn't laugh much. So I just opened the door without knocking. And ... and it wasn't Mom in bed with Dad, it was someone else. They didn't have any clothes on. The lady screamed when she saw me." Angel paused. "She had the biggest boobs I've ever seen."
Ryan didn't smile. He could see the heartbreak just beneath the surface. "That must have been tough on you."
"My dad shoved me out the door and slammed it right in my face. He told me not to tell Mom. I ran out of the house, and I didn't come back until his car was gone from the driveway."
"You didn't tell your mom, did you?"
"No. But a week later Mom told me they were getting a divorce because they didn't love each other any more. I think they got a divorce because..."
Ryan put a finger over her lips. "They did not get a divorce because of you."
She looked at him with agony in her eyes. "It's because I went in the room. My dad got mad. He thinks I told Mom. He -- "
"He was wrong, Angel. He made a mistake. But it had nothing to do with you. Nothing." Ryan gave her a little shake. "You have to believe me."
"Why?"
"Because I wouldn't lie to you."
Angel thought about that for a long time. "My dad lied to me all the time. He would say he was going to come home early and watch me play soccer or that he'd help me with my science project or come to an open house. But he never did any of those things."
"You're right. He was a jerk." Ryan patted her leg. "You know, Angel, sometimes people screw up all on their own without anyone's help. And some people just aren't meant to be parents. It's not because they don't love their kids, it's that they don't know how to show it. They don't know what to say."
"Did your dad ever screw up?"
Ryan caught his breath at the simple question, and this time he was the one who looked away from a pair of sharp little eyes that would see right through any phony answer. "Yeah, he screwed up. Lots of times. In fact, I always blamed my dad for making my mother go away. That is, when I wasn't blaming myself."
He ruffled her hair as she looked back at him with complete understanding.
"Why did your dad make your mother go away?"
"Because my mother wanted things that she couldn't get in this town, and he refused to leave." It was only part of the answer, but the only part he could deal with right now.
"He's pretty mad at you, too, isn't he?"
"Yeah."
"I just want a normal family," Angel said. "Why can't I have a normal family?" She rested her head on his shoulder.
"Maybe your mom will get married again," Ryan replied. Maybe she'll marry Andrew. Then I'll be the only one without a family.
"Maybe," Angel conceded, sending him a thoughtful glance. "If she married Andrew, then Billy and I would be brother and sister. That would be cool. And you would be my uncle." Angel smiled at him. Her even white teeth and the glow in her eyes lit up the dark sky. At that moment she reminded him of his own mother, of the light and the magic that had always been Isabelle. He could see a little of it in Angel, and in Kara, too. But Kara was different from his mother. Kara had her feet firmly on the ground. She was planting roots, not reaching for the stars. She was cultivating her dreams, not chasing after them.
He wondered why he found that so appealing. Why it felt so good to have Angel's head on his shoulder, why the last two nights at the Gatehouse had made him feel like he was sleeping in a real home when in reality it was just an inn, just a single stop in a lifetime of stops.
"I guess the lady isn't coming tonight," Angel said. "I did want to see her again. She's beautiful."
Ryan followed Angel's gaze out into the shadowy darkness of the river, but he could see no sign of a lady or anything else.
"My dad's not coming back either," Angel added in the same lonely, wistful tone. "Is he?"
"Probably not."
"Or your mom." Angel turned her head abruptly. "I can't believe I almost forgot. I have something for you." She unzipped her backpack and searched frantically through the contents. "I brought it with me, in case I saw the lady again. She's the one who showed it to me."
"What are you talking about?"
"This." Angel took out the watch and held it in the palm of her hand. "It's yours. Take it."
Ryan stared at it in shock. He had thrown that watch into the river twenty-five years earlier. He had never wanted to see it again. "No," he cried, jumping to his feet.
"It is yours." Angel turned it over and showed him the back. "It says, To Ryan. Love, Mom."
Ryan started walking. He could hear Angel call his name. He paused. "Go home, Angel. Just go home."
"But where are you going?" she cried.
"Away from here. As far away as I can get."
But Ryan couldn't get away from his thoughts. After a couple of hours of walking, he was finally tired enough to think he could sleep without dreaming, without remembering.
The Gatehouse was quiet when he returned, a cozy light on in the living room and another on the upstairs landing, but everyone appeared to be asleep. Ryan instinctively looked down the hall, noting Angel's partly open door. He couldn't help checking on her one last time.
As he peeked into her room, he saw Angel lying on her stomach across the bed, dressed in her granny nightgown, her arms wrapped tightly about a Raggedy Ann doll that had definitely seen better days.
The expression on her face was peaceful, innocent, and he felt a rush of emotion just looking at her. What would it be like to have a daughter? To bring children into the world and watch them grow?
His earlier restlessness returned in a different way. The loneliness gnawed at his gut like the hunger that came from an empty stomach. He wanted to fill it; he just didn't know how. With tentative steps he walked over to Angel's bed and pulled the quilt over her body. She stirred at the motion, opening her sleepy eyes.
"Mom?"
"Sh-sh, it's me, Ryan. I just wanted to make sure you got back okay."
"I'm okay. I -- I like you, Ryan."
"Yeah, I like you, too, Angel-face. Go to sleep now."
Angel smiled and fell back asleep before her eyelids had fully closed. Ryan intended to go to his room, but an open door at the end of the hall drew his attention. There were stairs leading into the attic, and a gleam of light. He wondered if someone was up there or if Kara had simply forgotten to turn off the light.
Ryan walked down the hall and up the stairs. The attic was empty, but a window at the far end was wide open. He walked over to close it, but when he reached for the handle, he saw Kara sitting on the roof, wrapped in a blanket.
After a moment's hesitation, he crawled out on the roof with her. She turned to him in surprise. "What are you doing out here?"
"I could ask you the same thing."
"Counting the stars. They're easier to see from up here."
"Well, you gotta to be able to do that," he said with a grin. "It looks like the clouds have parted long enough to give you a few stars."
"Thank goodness. Maybe the storm is over."
"Maybe, or just building up steam for the next time." He paused. "You know, I was thinking awhile back that you had your feet planted firmly on the ground. Now I find you sitting on the roof, wrapped in a blanket, counting stars."
"Sometimes I need to get away from it all," Kara said. "Up here, I feel free. I can see for miles."
"I thought you were happy just seeing down the street."
"I am. Most of the time."
He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
"Ryan, I don't think -- "
"That's the problem, you do think -- way too much. Hush now and let me hold you. I'm cold."
"Maybe you should go inside."
"Without counting the stars?"
Kara smiled at him. "There are too many to count."
"I know, I've tried."
"You have?"
"Lots of times. In some parts of the world, the sky is endless; in others you can barely see the stars for all the lights and skyscrapers. My mother used to play that game, 'Wish I may, wish I might -- ' "
" 'Have this wish I wish tonight,'" Kara finished.
"Then you pick the biggest star in the universe to wish on. Only the star I pick to wish on usually turns out to be an airplane."
Kara laughed. "How appropriate."
They sat there for a while in companionable silence. Ryan didn't want to break the connection between them. It felt so right being with her, so absolutely and utterly right. And yet she was the wrong woman for him. They both knew that.
"Did you see your father tonight?" Kara asked after a moment. "I missed you at the show."
Ryan shook his head. There would be time to tell her later about Angel. "No, I was talking to your aunt."
"She's quite a character, isn't she?" Kara said. "I don't know what's gotten into her lately. She has never ever run out on her marriage before. I'm totally surprised."
"I'm not."
"That's because you're a cynic."
"Realist."