My Special Angel (2 page)

She looked down at Owen. “I can reimburse your aunt and offer my apologies on my family’s behalf. As for your welcome to the Kandratavich Ranch, I can only assure you that the next time you come to call, you will be received with open arms and the gracious hospitality of my family.” She glared at her family and dared anyone to disagree with her. Hopefully Owen wouldn’t press charges—she doubted if she had enough available cash to bail them all out. The only thing that could break a Gypsy’s soul was to take away his freedom.

Owen stared at Nadia for a full minute before slightly nodding his head. He didn’t want this fiery angel’s apologies. She hadn’t done a thing wrong. When Celka and Sasha stepped forward and slowly handed him the few coins and crumpled bills, he felt like a thief. He glanced at the wide-eyed stare of the children and remembered that Sasha had said that half the money had already gone for food. Were they so desperate for food that they would try to swindle his seventy-two-year-old aunt out of 120 bucks?

Nadia noticed his hesitation and sighed. Mr. Born-with-a-Silver-Spoon-in-His-Mouth Prescott was about to become charitable. “Take the money, Owen. It’s rightfully your aunt’s.”

Owen jammed the money into his pants pocket. Aunt Verna could have bought an entire reservoir of mythical Fountain of Youth water and still not have missed the money. While the Prescott bank accounts were overflowing with zeros, the Prescotts themselves were down to the last two, Aunt Verna and himself. He tended to be a tad overprotective of his only living relative.

He mumbled a soft “Thank you” to Celka and Sasha and wondered how in hell the tables had gotten turned without his even realizing it. One minute he was ready to testify in court against the entire Kandratavich clan, and the next instant he was thanking them. He glanced up at Nadia. “Maybe we could—”

“There’s no maybe about it, Owen. Please return the money to your aunt with our apologies.” She gracefully slid off the horse and landed softly next to Owen.

He nearly burst a blood vessel as he watched her slide off the back of the black beast of a horse. The flowing kaleidoscope of colors on her cotton skirt had bunched up around midthigh, offering him a view that would have surely sent a priest into confession. Only one word could describe Nadia’s tan, satiny legs: heavenly. They surely had to lead the way to the Pearly Gates.

“If you come with me to my house, I will get you the rest of the money.” Nadia nodded her head in the direction she had come.

Owen saw a small white house and a huge weather-beaten barn in the distance. “It’s not necessary.” He didn’t want her money, but he was curious about her. He quickly glanced at her left hand. The third finger was bare, but she wore elaborately carved gold rings on two of the others. Her right hand boasted three more rings. She had no husband. Anyone who wore that many rings would surely wear a wedding band.

“I must repay your aunt. It’s a matter of family pride.” She had noticed him looking at her hands and quickly hid them in the folds of her skirt. Vanity was such a distasteful quality, but she couldn’t help it. She felt her hands were her worst feature. They were callused from playing the guitar constantly, and the nails were trimmed so close to the skin that hardly any white showed. Her livelihood, and that of her family, depended on her fingers. She turned to the children. “Who would like a ride up to the house?”

Four urchins disengaged themselves from their mothers’ skirts and came running forward. Nadia laughed and swung a boy of about six up onto the horse’s back. Owen was entranced by the musical sultriness of her laughter and the love that was illuminated across her face. When she placed all four children onto the stallion’s back, she turned and started to lead the horse across the field.

Owen fell in step beside her and marveled at her size. When she had been sitting on top of the stallion, she appeared a lot taller. If Nadia was pushing five foot two, the extra inch was due to her thick wavy hair. His fingers itched to thread their way into the dense darkness and see if it was as soft as it appeared. Dangerous thoughts for a man who five minutes ago was about to have his neck stretched by her family. He glanced behind them and grinned up at the children. Every one of them seemed fearless—both of the beast and of sitting so far up off the ground. Owen returned his attention to the beautiful woman walking beside him. “Does your horse have a name?”

“Of course.” The foreign accent punctuating her words wasn’t nearly as strong as the rest of her family’s. “Don’t all American pets have names?”

“Yes, but so far you haven’t called him by his. I’ve been listening.”

He glanced at the powerful black stallion. “I bet everything that’s in my wallet that his name isn’t Buttercup.”

Nadia chuckled and dug a cube of sugar out of her skirt pocket, then lovingly held out her hand for the horse. “Not even close.”

“I would have gone with a name like Satan or Lucifer.”

“Now you’re getting warm.” She gently rubbed the stallion’s nose and softly whispered something in a foreign language. “I named him after something every American fears.”

“‘Nuclear War’? ‘The Dentist’?” He loved the sweet, musical ring of her laughter as it drifted across the field. He continued to tease her: “What about ‘Mother-in-Law’?”

Nadia caught her breath. “No, his name is IRS.”

Owen stopped in his tracks and stared at the stallion, who at the sound of his name gently nudged the back of Nadia’s neck. “Why did you name him after the Internal Revenue Service?”

“He was born on April fifteenth.” She held out another sugar cube as they crossed a dirt road in front of the barn and a small fenced-in corral.

He glanced at the barn and shuddered. The entire building was leaning dangerously to the right. Nadia lifted down the children and chuckled as they scampered away in a flash of dark eyes and giggles. Opening the corral gate, he watched as she removed the bridle and gave IRS a gentle pat on his rump. The stallion tossed his head, glared at Owen, and trotted into the corral. Owen latched the gate. “I don’t think your horse likes me.”

“He’s miffed because you didn’t give him a treat. He’s used to having everyone pass him a goody. IRS is just a big old spoiled baby.” She laid the bridle across the crooked, splintered fence and absently picked at a hunk of peeling white paint. One day she hoped to be able to afford to fix up IRS’s home and to fill every acre of the Kandratavich Ranch with his progeny. He was the keystone of her dream. IRS represented everything she had been sacrificing for these past years. He was ‘the Kandratavich Ranch,’ a permanent home for her family at last. Her wandering days were over. She was born in Hungary; by the time she was a month old, she was living in Russia; and by her third birthday she was in what was then Yugoslavia. She was fluent in six languages by the time she was eight and had seen two thirds of Europe by her sixteenth birthday. She would be elated if she never had to step a foot off the Kandratavich Ranch.

“Nadia?”

She jerked back to the present. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

The secrets had reentered her eyes. “Where did you go?”

A faint tinge of pink darkened her cheeks. “I was sweeping the cobwebs.” She turned and started to walk toward the house.

He fell in step with her. “Sweeping cobwebs?”

“Isn’t that what you call it?”

“Oh.” He chuckled softly. “You mean, shaking the cobwebs.”

“Same thing.” She stepped up onto the porch and opened the screen door. “Sweep or shake cobwebs, and dust will still fly everywhere.” She held the door for Owen. “Come in for a moment. I will be right down.”

Owen stepped over the threshold and softly shut the screen door behind him. Nadia had already disappeared out of the spacious kitchen. He frowned as he glanced around the room. The counters were empty. No toaster, microwave, or even a dirty coffee cup. The walls had at one time been painted a bright yellow, but over the years they had faded into a dull-looking cream color with only the outlines of pictures or other items revealing their original color. In the spacious area where a table for eight could easily have fit, sat a small table and two wobbly-looking chairs. But Nadia had added a touch of color by covering it with a vibrant hand-painted silk scarf.

He slowly walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. His frown grew deeper. Only three things cluttered the otherwise-empty room. Two massive light-blue throw pillows, a stack of books and magazines, and an old floor lamp with a ripped and battered lamp shade. Nadia had thrown another silk scarf over the lamp to hide the shade. This one had a reproduction of a famous Picasso painting on it. Faded lace curtains hung at the windows, and the impressive brick fireplace still held the winter ashes. He slowly made his way over to the mantel and picked up what appeared to be the only trivial item in the room, an eight-inch cheap metal souvenir replica of the Statue of Liberty. He turned it over and read the inscription on the bottom of the statue: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free ...” He heard Nadia softly treading down the stairs and gently replaced the statue on the mantel. Nadia and her family had come to America searching for freedom, and by the look of the empty house they weren’t planning on staying in Crow’s Head, North Carolina, to find it.

Nadia was halfway down the stairs when she spotted Owen. “Oh, there you are, Mr. Prescott.”

“My father was called Mr. Prescott. I’m Owen.”

“Was Mr. Prescott?”

“My parents passed away about six years ago in a plane crash.”

To lose both father and mother was terrible; to lose both at the same time was tragic. “I’m sorry.” She gently touched his forearm with her fingers.

“Thank you.” He could see her sadness and feel the comfort in her touch. He tenderly captured her fingers and gave them a gentle squeeze. A simple act of consolation ignited a bonfire. Heat scorched his fingers and raced up his arm.

Nadia’s eyes widened a fraction before she jerked her trembling hand out from underneath Owen’s. She quickly slid it into the deep pocket of her skirt. With the other hand she held out the money. “Here is the rest of your aunt’s money.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want the money, Nadia.” He glanced around the empty room. “You need it more than my aunt does.”

She stubbornly continued to hold out the money. “Kandrataviches don’t accept charity, Owen.”

“Don’t look on it as charity, then. Consider it a loan.”

“I already owe the Prescotts enough.” She thrust the bills into his hands.

Owen had held out his hand to push the money away but ended up with it anyway. “I don’t understand. I’ve never loaned you any money.”

“Prescotts sold me this ranch.”

He held the money out to her. “Just because Prescott Realty acted as the realtor doesn’t mean you owe them money. I’m sure everything was concluded on the day you made the settlement.”

“Yes, that is true, but Prescott Mortgage Company holds the deed to this ranch.” She cocked her head and studied Owen’s baffled expression. “Don’t you know what properties you own?”

“Yes. No.” He glared at the money in his hand as if he’d never seen a dollar before. “I mean, I don’t know.” Now he was really confused. From all appearances Nadia and the rest of her family couldn’t afford to pay the mortgage on a ranch of this size. He’d known the ranch was in run-down condition when it was placed on the market and how excited Don Adamson had been when it finally sold after two years. But how did Nadia get the mortgage past Bill Meyers? The manager of the Prescott Mortgage Company ran the place with an eye on the bottom line at all times. “The mortgage company doesn’t own the ranch, Nadia; you do. We just lent you the money to buy it, that’s all.”

“You hold the papers that say it is mine.” She slowly started to walk toward the kitchen with Owen.

“Only until you pay off the loan.”

“Then it’s not mine.”

“Technically, yes, but—”

“And can’t you sell the ranch to someone else?”

“Not unless you default on the loan.” Owen groaned. “Didn’t they explain all this to you when you applied for the mortgage?”

“Yes. Mr. Meyers was quite clear. For twenty years I make payments, then I get the papers. Until then you own part of the ranch.”

Owen gazed into her intelligent, stubborn eyes and groaned again. Everything she said was true, but other people didn’t look at their mortgage company as part-owner of their homes. “What about your parents? I’m sure they could explain that I don’t own any part of the ranch.”

“They never had a mortgage.” A smile teased the corner of her mouth at the thought of her parents having a payment book.

“What about your uncles?”

Nadia’s smile grew into a full-blown grin. “This is the first piece of property that a Kandratavich has ever owned.”

“Ever?” cried Owen.

“Ever,” answered Nadia with pride. She glanced around her kitchen and smiled. “I offered my good fortune to my family, and they have accepted.” She frowned momentarily as she opened the door for him. “I’m afraid there’s a lot they don’t understand about the American way of life. Most of their information comes from old movies they watched while waiting for their visas.”

“Let me guess.” He ran his hand over his throat. “Were any of them old cowboy movies?” He didn’t want to leave just yet.

Nadia fought the blush stealing up her cheeks as she remembered the mock hanging. “I guess I should warn you that my father and uncles watched every cowboy movie they could get their hands on.”

“Great.” Owen rubbed the back of his neck and wondered if he should warn the town sheriff about the Kandratavich gang.

“My brothers Stevo and Mikol favored Mel Gibson in Lethal Weapon and Kevin Costner in Bull Durham.”

“This is getting better by the minute.”

“My sister Sonia and her husband, Gustavo, became obsessed with Errol Flynn. My brother, Nikita, idolizes Cary Grant, and my other brother, Gibbie, thinks he’s Elvis on spring break.”

Owen studied Nadia’s gorgeous face while waiting for the punch line. There had to be a joke somewhere in there. The most intriguing woman who had ever entered his life was living with the entire Actors Guild. “Exactly how many members of your family are living here, Nadia?” He glanced out of the open screen door and spotted two of her uncles working on the corral fence.