Angel Song (2 page)

“But I didn’t order that.”

“On the house.” She smiled. “You look like you can use a little pick-me-up.”

Apples mingled with vanilla and Jason breathed deeply, feeling his blood pressure slack just a bit. Maybe the day would be OK after all. Maybe…

“That’s really nice of you.” He nodded, splaying a hand across his belly as it rumbled. Mortified, he glanced up to see her staring at him. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem.” She laughed and dimples deepened at the corners of her mouth. Jason noticed a cute little smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, too. Suddenly his pulse kicked up a notch.

What the heck…

“You’ll need this.”

As she handed him a spoon, he caught the scent of her perfume…something subtle and floral.

“And I think you’ll need more than coffee, too.”

“I guess so.” Five minutes earlier, his stomach had balked at the idea of food. Now, he found himself ravenous. He struggled to draw his gaze from her, and failed miserably. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” She nodded, and a few strands of hair skimmed her cheek. “It just came out of the oven. Enjoy.”

Jason watched her retreat as he dug in, her hair swishing along her shoulders in time to the music that sang overhead. He didn’t know which was more appealing…her or the pie. Of course, the pie was delicious with warm apples and a perfect blend of the sweet, vanilla bean ice cream. But she was an appealing mystery, as well.

Jason shook the thought from his head as he washed down apples with a sip of coffee. What had gotten into him? He refocused on the task at hand—finding a replacement for Mrs. Donaldson. He took out his day planner and went through the list of contacts once more. There had to be someone who could help him out…someone who enjoyed being around kids and was willing to carry an extra load for the next month.

Someone who knew that the true meaning of Christmas held more than the thrill of hunting for the best deal on Black Friday.

2

Quinn stomped across the parking lot toward the sedan. Wet, cold snow seeped into her sensible tennis shoes to chill her feet, and sloppy flakes caught in her hair. They melted and slipped beneath the collar of her coat to trace a shiver down her back.

She opened the driver’s door and scooted into the seat, fumbling for her keys. Mama Cantori was expecting her home by two, but the crowd inside the diner—and now the snow—were sure to make her late.

Quinn prayed the balding tires would get her home, and vowed to replace them with the tips in her pockets—even if it took every cent.

At least, right after she paid the electric bill and stocked the pantry.
And
bought one or two of the gifts on Linsey’s Christmas list.

Quinn slipped the key into the ignition and turned. The ominous, clicking noise that followed made her blood run cold.

“No!” She smoothed a hand over the dashboard, caressing the plastic as if it were a sick child. “C’mon, baby, don’t do this to me now. Please, you have to start.”

Another turn, another series of clicks, then nothing but silence.

Quinn pounded the dash and then slumped back in the seat, tears stinging her eyes. The effect of several sleepless nights, a string of double-shifts, and worry over Linsey’s bout of bronchitis suddenly caught up with her, and she felt as if she was drowning.

Now, she could add to the list a lifeless car…the traitorous beast. How would she ever get home?

A tap on the window startled her. She glanced up to find the guy from the diner staring at her. She rolled down the window, swiping tears from her cheeks as the cold wind swirled in to bite her. She cleared the lump from her throat as she spoke. “Was there something wrong with your pie?”

“No.” He laughed. “Nothing wrong with that, but you seem to be having a bit of trouble.”

“I think the battery’s dead.”

He leaned into the open window and glanced at the dash. “Let’s see. Give it a crank.”

“I did. It just clicks.” She demonstrated. “See?”

“Yeah, it’s dead.” He nodded. “Hang on. I’ll get my cables and pull over here. Maybe a jump will get her going.”

“I don’t want to trouble you.” Snowflakes littered his dark hair. Christmas music drifted across the parking lot from the diner. The lot was full, and Quinn wondered if she was the only one who had trouble navigating the snow. She wasn’t used to cold winters, though, having spent the past several years in Jacksonville.

“Oh, it’s no trouble.” He gathered the collar of his jacket and yanked up the zipper. “Just give me a minute, OK?”

“Sure. I guess I don’t have a choice.”

As he shuffled across the snow-swept asphalt, Quinn could have kicked herself for sounding so unappreciative. She’d let her frustration get the best of her again.

When he returned to park his car on the median facing hers, and then produced a set of jumper cables, she slipped from the car and started around to the driver’s side of the SUV to meet him.

As soon as he caught sight of her, he held up a hand to stop her. “Stay in the driver’s seat. Keep the door closed and crack the window just slightly so you can hear me.” He motioned her back to the sedan before she’d taken half-a-dozen steps. “The wind will bite off your nose. There’s no need for you to freeze.”

So, Quinn returned to the car and settled into the seat while he opened the sedan’s hood and fiddled beneath it. Her breath curled around the car’s cab and her toes numbed. She gnawed a fingernail and grew more and more anxious with each passing minute. She should call Mama Cantori and inform her of the delay, but one glance at the cell phone told Quinn its battery was dead again, too. She could always head back into the diner and use the phone, but was it wise—or polite—to just leave this stranger while he was trying to get her car breathing again?

“Crank the engine,” he called, poking his head from beneath the hood to wave to her. “Give it a whirl.”

Quinn turned the key once more, heard the dreaded click, and groaned. “It’s still dead.”

“I can try one more thing.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“No worries. I’ve done this a dozen times.” He slipped into the driver’s seat of his SUV and revved the engine once, twice, three times. “How about now?”

Quinn gnawed her lip and clutched the key with all her might, turning it as if a little added elbow grease would do the trick.

Click, click.

“I don’t think it’s going to start.” Tears blurred Quinn’s vision once more. She was oh, so tired.

“I’m afraid you’re right. It’s not gonna budge.” The guy came back around to her window. “That battery’s not just dead…it’s, well,
dead
.”

“Great. Linsey’s waiting…” Quinn’s voice trembled. She clamped her mouth shut quickly. No point in burdening him with personal details. “Thanks for trying, but I guess I’d better head back inside and see if I can find a ride home.”

“I’ll take you.”

“Oh, that’s kind of you, but no.” She shook her head. “I don’t take rides from strangers.”

“I see.” He scratched his snow-dampened hair, and then wiped his palm on the thigh of his jeans before offering his hand through the open window. “I’m Jason Graves. Gus can vouch for me, if you want to go do a cursory background check.”

“Um…I guess that’s not necessary.” She hesitated only a moment, sniffling. After all, he
had
gone out of his way to try to help her. “I’m Quinn.”

“Hello, Quinn.” He took her hand and gave it a slight shake. His fingers were chilled, and Quinn felt a slight stab of contrition for doubting him. “Nice weather we’re having, huh? It’s a bit unusual for late November in East Tennessee.”

“Oh, yes.” Quinn swiped tears of frustration from her face as she burst into a shaky stream of laughter at his attempt to make small talk, easing her distress. “You can say that again.”

“There.” He winked and squeezed her hand. “Now we’re not strangers anymore, Quinn.”

****

Jason helped Quinn gather what she needed from the car—her purse, a small backpack, and a few to-go containers from the diner—before they settled into the SUV together. As he eased the vehicle into gear, silence filled the cab. Outside, a gust of wind swept snowflakes across the windshield while they pulled onto the highway.

“OK, you’re gonna have to give me a hint.” Jason cranked up the heater. “Act like a GPS.”

“A GPS?” Quinn scooted her feet beneath the welcome heat at the floorboard and wiggled her numb toes. She wished for a tissue, because her chilled nose was beginning to run. She sniffled. “Why?”

“Because I need directions. Which way to your house?”

“Oh, that. Sorry.” She glanced out the window and frowned at the drifting snow. “Turn left at the corner.”

“You’re new around here, aren’t you?” Jason tapped the brake and gripped the steering wheel. As they merged into traffic, he switched on the radio. Soft music chased away the silence.

“How did you know?”

“Summer’s three months into the rearview mirror and you still have the hint of a tan.”

“Maybe I frequent one of those indoor bronzing places.”

“Nah.” Jason shook his head. “You don’t seem the type to throw money away on that sort of thing.”

“Really?” Quinn tugged off her mittens and positioned her hands in front of the air blasting from the heater. She rubbed her palms together. “And, just what type am I?”

“I’m not sure. But, definitely not the fake-tan type.”

“Left!” Quinn lurched forward in the seat and tapped the windshield. “Turn left right here.”

“Left, right?” Jason teased as he jerked the wheel. The SUV skidded a bit before the tires caught again. Jason gained control and they started down the side-road. “That was close.”

“Sorry.” Quinn released her death-grip on the door handle. “That wasn’t much notice. Just a couple miles or so down now, on the right.”

“Bradbury subdivision?”

“How did you know?”

“It’s the only subdivision out this way.” He turned on the windshield wipers, and they swished across wet glass, tossing snow back into the wind. “I live there, too.”

“No way.”

“Yes, way.”

“Well, that’s…” Quinn shook her head, speechless. “Odd?”

“It’s probably a blessing that your battery died.”

“A blessing? How so?”

“Those bald tires on your car would have never got you home in one piece.”

“Oh…I guess you’re right.”

“You need a new set.” Jason nodded. “I’d get them along with the new battery.”

“So would I, if I had the money.” As soon as the words escaped, Quinn wished she could take them back. He didn’t need to know about her financial struggles. She frowned. “Sorry. Ignore that comment.”

“I will if I can ask you a question.”

“Fire away.”

He turned the music down a notch. “You’re not really a waitress, are you?”

“What does it matter?” Quinn unwrapped her scarf from her neck. The heat was working its magic. “I am now.”

“But you used to be…?”

“An art teacher at Marine Point Community College.” She shook her head. “But that seems like a lifetime ago.” Budget cuts had eliminated her position, and Mama Cantori’s not-so-gentle prodding coaxed her home.

“I knew it—the angel you sketched on my bill, back at the diner—the detail was captivating.”

“I do a little drawing for all my customers.”

“Always an angel?”

“No, but it just seemed fitting.” She clutched her mittens in one hand as she turned to face him. “Why did you leave me such a generous tip, Jason?”

“That seemed fitting, too.” He delved into his pocket and drew out a familiar slip of green, lined paper—the check from his lunch. “You were more than kind.”

“You kept the bill. Why?”

“Your battery dying—me driving you home—it truly
is
a blessing…for me, at least.”

“I’m not following.”

“Quinn, have you ever considered co-directing a Christmas pageant?”

3

“For a church? Not in this lifetime.” Quinn tugged the collar of her jacket tight as they inched toward the small, frame house she now called home. “If the congregation knew my history, they’d chase me right out the door. Besides, my life is filled with enough drama without adding to it.”

Jason frowned. “It can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, but it is.” She shook her head stiffly. “Just let me out of the car and pretend you never met me. We’ll both be better off that way.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I appreciate the ride, Jason. I really do. But my plate is full. The last thing I need is to add another responsibility, especially this time of the year—at Christmas.”

“When else is the church supposed to put on a Christmas pageant?”

“Have you ever heard of Christmas in July?”

“Get real.” He sighed. “Tell that to all the kids who had their hopes up.”

“Kids?” Quinn hesitated. “I thought you were talking about adults.”

“No. The pageant is presented by the children’s choir…a group of elementary school-aged kids who join together at the community church. I made a promise to them, and now I’m hard-pressed to keep it. That’s definitely not my style.”

His words tugged at Quinn, and she struggled to deflect them. “You shouldn’t make promises unless you can keep them.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t keep my promise. It’s just going to be difficult without some help.” He sighed. “Look, we put on a pageant every Christmas, but this year we’ve had a slight setback. The woman who volunteered to help me is in the hospital, and I can’t manage everything alone—”

“You can stop right there. It really doesn’t matter. Christmas pageants mean lots of music, and I don’t know the first thing about music.”

“Oh, Mrs. Chandler is taking care of the music. We’ve got that covered. It’s the set that we need help with—backdrops, props…that kind of thing. And, seeing how you have a background in art
and
teaching, well, you’d be perfect.”

Open mouth, insert foot, chew carefully…

“I don’t have the time, and I haven’t been to church in”—she counted on her fingers—“at least six years. I’m sure I don’t have the qualifications to help with anything church-related.”