Kiss an Angel (27 page)

Glenna took the plum and settled back in the cage where she ate it in small, delicate nibbles while she regarded Daisy with sad gratitude.

Daisy handed her another one and continued to talk to her. When the gorilla was done, she once again approached the bars, but this time she reached for Daisy's hair.

The first time she'd done this, Daisy had been frightened, but now she knew what Glenna wanted, and she pulled the rubber band from her ponytail.

For a very long time, she stood patiently in front of the cage and let the gorilla groom her as if she were her baby, picking through her hair for nonexistent gnats and fleas.

When she was finally done, Daisy found that her throat had tightened with emotion. No matter what anyone said, it wasn't right for this humanlike creature to be caged.

Two hours later, Daisy and her pet elephant were heading back toward the trailer when she spotted Heather practicing with her rings near the ball field's home plate. Now that she was no longer so exhausted, Daisy had been able to think more clearly about what had happened the night the ticket money was stolen, and she decided the time had come to talk to Heather.

Heather dropped a ring as she approached, and while she bent to pick it up, she regarded Daisy warily from the corner of her eye.

"I want to talk to you. Heather. Let's sit down on those bleachers."

"I don't have anything to say to you."

"Fine. Then I'll do the talking. Move it."

Heather regarded her sulkily but responded to the authority in her voice. After gathering up her rings,

she followed Daisy to the bleachers, dragging her sandals the entire way.

Daisy took a seat in the third row while Heather settled one row lower. Tater found a place near home plate and began picking up dirt and tossing it on his back, part of his instinctive cooling system.

"I suppose you're going to yell at me about Alex."

"Alex is married, Heather, and marriage is a sacred bond between a man and a woman. No one has the right to try to break that apart."

"It's not fair! You didn't do anything to deserve him."

"That's not for you to judge."

"You're a real goody-goody, aren't you?"

"How could I be a goody-goody?" Daisy said quietly. "I'm a thief, remember?"

Heather looked down at her fingers and picked at the cuticle on her thumb.

"Everybody hates you for stealing that money."

"I know they do. And that's not fair, is it?"

"Yeah, it's fair."

"But both of us know I didn't do it."

Heather's back stiffened, and she waited a fraction of a second too long before replying. "You did, too."

"You were in the red wagon that night between the time Sheba checked the cash drawer and I closed up."

"So what? I didn't steal the money, and you're not going to pin it on me!"

"A call came in for Alex. I took it, and while I was distracted you got into the cash drawer and removed the two hundred dollars."

"I did not! You can't prove anything!"

"Then you sneaked into the trailer and hid the money in my suitcase so everyone would think it was me."

"You're a liar!"

"I should have figured it out right away, but I was so tired from trying to adjust to everything that I forgot you'd been there."

"You're a liar," Heather repeated, but this time with less vehemence. "And if you go and tell my dad about this, you're gonna be sorry."

"You can't threaten me with anything worse than what you've already done. I don't have any friends, Heather. No one wants to talk to me because they think I'm a thief. Even my own husband believes it."

Heather's face was a picture of guilt, and Daisy knew she'd been right. She regarded the teenager sadly. "What you did was very wrong."

Heather ducked her head, and her fine blond hair fell forward, concealing her expression. "You can't prove anything," she muttered.

"Is this the way you plan to live your life? Acting dishonestly? Being cruel to another person? We all make mistakes, Heather, and part of growing up is learning how to deal with them."

The teenager's shoulders sagged, and Daisy saw the exact moment when she gave up. "Are you going to tell my dad?"

"I don't know. But I have to tell Alex."

"If you tell him, he'll go straight to my dad."

"That's probably true. Alex has a strong sense of justice."

A tear splatted on the top of Heather's thigh, but Daisy hardened her heart against any sympathy.

"My dad said if I got into any trouble, he was sending me back to live with my aunt Terry."

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you framed me."

Heather said nothing, and Daisy didn't rush her. She finally wiped her eyes on the hem of her T-shirt. ' 'When are you going to tell him?"

"I haven't thought about it. Tonight, probably. Maybe tomorrow."

Heather gave a jerky nod. ' I just—the money was there, and I didn't plan it or anything."

Daisy tried to swallow her pity by reminding herself that, because of the actions of this child, her husband thought she was a thief and her marriage had been poisoned before it had a chance. "What you did wasn't right. You have to face the consequences."

"Yeah, I guess I know that." She tried to dash her tears away with her fingers.

"In a way, I'm almost glad you found out. It's been hard—I know I don't deserve it, but could you maybe tell Sheba first instead of Alex? Let her tell my dad. The two of them, they fight and everything, but they respect each other, and maybe if she tells him, she can keep him from going completely crazy."

Daisy sat up straighten "Is your father physically violent?"

"Yeah, I guess. I mean he yells and everything."

"Does he hit you?"

"Dad? No, he doesn't ever hit. But he gets so mad that sometimes I wish he would."

"I see."

"And I guess I'd of ended up with my aunt sooner or later. I know she needs me to help out with her

kids and everything. I guess I've been pretty selfish wanting to stay here. It's just—the kids are real

brats, and sometimes when they do stuff, she sort of takes it out on me."

Daisy saw more than she wanted to, and she felt as if guilt-nails were being pounded into her.

The teenager rose from the bench, and her eyes shimmered with tears. "I'm sorry I've been such a jerk and got you into so much trouble." A tear slid over her lashes. "I guess I should know how that feels better than anybody because of Terry's kids and everything. I should never of done it, but I got so jealous because of Alex." Her voice was coming out in little gulps. Her chest spasmed.

"It's stupid. He's too old ... and he wouldn't even want somebody like me. But he's always so nice to me, and I guess ... I guess I wanted that all the time, even though"—She gasped for air—"even though I know it wouldn't ever work out.

I'm sorry, Daisy."

With a sob, she turned and fled.

Daisy made her way over to Tater and the baby elephant curled his trunk around her. She rested against him, trying to decide what to do. Before she'd confronted Heather, everything had seemed clear to her, but now she was no longer so certain. If she didn't tell Alex the truth about Heather, he would keep on believing she was a thief. But if she did tell him, Heather was going to be badly punished, and she wasn't sure she could live with that.

Over by the road, she saw Alex climb into his truck to head into town. Earlier he'd told her he had to straighten out a problem with the company supplying the donnikers and that he might be gone for several hours. She'd planned to use the time to unearth the secret purchases she'd been making the past few weeks that would transform the ugly green trailer into something resembling a home, but her encounter with Heather had robbed her of some of her enthusiasm. Still, working was better than sitting around brooding.

As she headed back toward the trailer, she felt her spirits lift. Finally she'd be doing something she was really good at. She couldn't wait to see the look on Alex's face.

14

What in the hell have you done?" Alex froze in place just inside the door.

"Isn't it wonderful!" Daisy gazed with satisfaction at the trailer's transformation into the charming and cozy nest she'd imagined.

Cream-colored bedsheets gaily splattered with pansies in purples, blues, and butterscotch draped the

ugly plaid couch, while scatter pillows in the same colors made the old pieces of furniture inviting and comfortable. She'd attached small brass rods above the yellowed blinds that covered the windows and looped them with lengths of unbleached muslin. Using pansy blue and lavender ribbons of various widths and textures, she'd caught up the fabric in soft poofs.

A silky blue-and-violet scarf camouflaged the torn shade on the lamp that sat in the corner, while several wicker baskets held the clutter of magazines and papers. An attractive assortment of mismatched containers ranging from milk-glass vases and pottery bowls to a Wedgwood blue pitcher graced the chipped kitchen countertop, along with a colorful braided cord stretched across them and attached with tacks to the wall at each end to hold them in place when the trailer was moving.

The table was set with matching place mats in a purple-and-violet paisley pattern and mismatched blue willow china featuring the same colors. White stoneware mugs and two crystal goblets, one of which had a hairline crack in its base, sat next to indigo glass salad plates. In the center of the table, a chipped salt-glazed crock held a bouquet of wildflowers she'd picked at the edge of the lot.

"I couldn't do much with the carpet," she explained, still breathless from the last-minute rush to have everything in place, "but I've gotten rid of the worst of the stains, so it's not too bad. When I get the money, I'm going to do the bed, too, with one of those pretty Indian cotton spreads and more scatter pillows. I'm not much of a seamstress, but I think I can..."

"Where did you get the money to do this?"

"From my paycheck."

"You used your own money?"

"I found all kinds of thrift stores and second-hand shops in the towns we've visited. Do you know I'd never been in a Wal-Mart until two weeks ago? It's amazing how far you can stretch a dollar if you're careful, and—" The expression on his face finally registered and her smile faded. "You don't like it."

"I didn't say that."

"You don't have to. I can see it in your face."

"It's not that I don't like it; I just don't think it makes sense to waste your money on this place."

"I don't think it's a waste."

"It's a trailer, for god's sake. We're not going to live here that long."

That wasn't the real reason for his objection. As she gazed at him, she realized she had two choices. She could go off and treat herself to a well-deserved sulk, or she could force him to be honest with her. "Tell me exactly what's wrong."

"I already have."

"No, you haven't. Sheba said you'd turned down a nicer trailer for this place."

He shrugged.

"You wanted to make it as hard on me as possible, didn't you?"

"Don't take it personally. I hadn't even met you when I made the decision about the trailer."

"But you'd heard about me from my father."

He walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of wine he'd bought the day before, a bottle

that she'd considered too expensive for their budget.

She refused to let him shut her out. "Did you want to keep living in this place the way it was?"

"It was all right." He reached in the drawer for the corkscrew.

"I don't believe you. You're a man who enjoys beautiful things. I've seen the way you take in the scenery when we're traveling or point out something pretty in a store window. Yesterday when we stopped at that roadside stand, you said the basket of fruit reminded you of a Cezanne."

"Do you want a glass of wine?"

She shook her head, and as she studied him she began to understand. "I've stepped over the line again, haven't I?"

"I don't know what you mean by that."

"That invisible border you've set up in your mind between a real marriage and a pretend one. I've

crossed it again, haven't I?"

"You're not making any sense."

"Sure I am. You've made up a whole list of rules and regulations for our pretend marriage. I'm supposed to follow your orders without question and stay out of your way except when you want me in bed with you. But most of all, I'm not supposed to make any emotional attachments. I'm not allowed to care about you, about our marriage, our life together. I'm not even allowed to care about this dumpy little trailer."

She'd finally gotten to him, and he slapped the fiat of his hand down on the counter, shaking the wine bottle. "I don't want you nesting, that's all! It's a bad idea."

"I was right," she said quietly.

He shoved his hand back through his hair. "You're such a damned romantic.

Sometimes when I see you looking at me, I have the feeling you're not seeing me at all. Instead, you're seeing the way you want me to be. You're doing the same thing with this—this legal tie between us. You're going to try to make it into something it's not."

"It's a marriage, Alex, not just a legal tie. We made sacred vows."

"For six months! Don't you understand that I care about you? All I'm trying to do is protect you from getting hurt."

"Protect me? I see." She took a deep breath. "Is that why you've been checking to make certain I'm taking my birth control pills?"

His expression grew stony. "What does that have to do with anything."

"At first I couldn't figure out why I'd find them on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet when I'd left

them on the bottom. Then I realized that you'd been handling them."

"I was just making sure you weren't forgetting them, that's all."

"In other words, you've been checking up on me."

"I'm not going to apologize. I told you how strongly I feel about not having children."

She gazed at him bleakly. "We don't have anything, do we? No respect, no affection, no trust."

"We have affection, Daisy. At least I do." He hesitated. "And you've earned my respect, too. I never figured you would take your work so seriously. You've got guts, Daisy."