Tin Angel (27 page)

A long, uncomfortable silence stretched between them. She turned her gaze away, unable to bear the look of wounded fury burning in his eyes.

“What are these?” he demanded.

She stared back at him, digging her nails into her palm until it hurt. “Alice’s clothes.” Her shaky voice betrayed her distress.

“Exactly! Why are they here and not with her? I would think she’d be awfully cold traveling without them.” His voice was cool, but it was his expression that bothered her the most. Gone was the loving way he looked at her. His mouth was taut with disapproval, and in that moment, she believed he hated her.

Her heart thudded wildly against her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She inhaled small gulps of air while she tried to think of a reasonable explanation to offer him. “I-I think Alice was wearing a parka when she left.”

He unclenched his jaw and spoke with forced civility. “Her suitcases are in the closet, and so is her purse. I don’t think she’d go anywhere without those.”

She plucked at the armrest, pulling loose the old threads that barely held the worn fabric together. A horrible pounding beat against her head. “I’m sure there’s an explanation,” she said wearily.

“No more stalling. I want the truth, and I want it now.” He leaned against the doorframe as if using it for support.

She closed her eyes against the terrible feeling of dread that washed over her. There was no way out of it this time. She would have to tell him the truth. He would either believe her or not. She opened her eyes slowly and took a deep, steadying breath. “I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

His brow furrowed, and his skin paled. She looked away, afraid if she saw the pain in his eyes for a second longer, she wouldn’t be able to go on.

“I’m not who you think I am,” she blurted. She wanted to run to him, throw her arms around him, and tell him she wasn’t the evil, despicable person he must think her to be. She knew he wouldn’t accept her embrace, though, and she couldn’t bear it if he pushed her away.

“I’m Alice.” She sat on the edge of the sofa, her hands clenched tightly together. She didn’t know how she got the words out, but she had, and then the whole incredible story bubbled from her lips.

“A miracle’s happened. I’ve been given another chance to live my life… The one I should have lived after Tom died. In fact, this was all his idea.” She paused a moment, half expecting him to say something…anything…but he stood there rigidly as if he’d been turned to stone.

She ran her tongue over her dry lips and cleared her throat, then pressed on. “The tin angel, the tree topper Tom gave me, is a real angel.” She knew she sounded insane, but it was too late to worry about that now. She had no choice. She had to tell him the entire story and hope when she was done, she’d made him believe her. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s missing. Well, not missing as in stolen; missing as in it only appears when I need advice.”

Jack still hadn’t moved. In fact, she was getting worried that he might keel over—his skin was such a sickly shade of gray—but she had to finish. “This miracle has a condition. I’ve only been given until the New Year to find true love or…” Her voice trailed off. This was the toughest part—telling him that she might only have one more day to live; however, she gathered her strength. “If by tomorrow night at midnight, I haven’t found true love, I’ll be transformed back to ninety…” She lowered her voice to barely more than a whisper, “And I’ll die.”

She was surprised at the relief she felt at having finally told him everything. “I know it sounds incredible, but I swear to you, it’s the truth.” She waited expectantly for his response.

He blinked, then narrowed his eyes as if trying to get a better look at her. She couldn’t read his expression, his emotions were so guarded. Slowly he moved toward her, until he came to stand before her. He placed his hands on her knees and leaned into her, staring directly into her eyes.

“See, Jack, it really is me.”

“Just how big a fool do you think I am?” His tone was as cold as the wind whistling through the windowpanes. He backed away from her, never taking his eyes from her face.

“You’re no fool.”

He spoke over her. “I asked for the truth. I prayed that you’d open up to me, trust me enough. But instead you tell me some crazy fairy tale that a five-year-old would have trouble believing.”

By the time he reached the doorway, his voice had risen enough to send Jasper scurrying from the room.

“Wait, please!” Alice sprang from the sofa and rushed over to the piano. “At least let me prove to you that I am telling the truth.” Her fingers flew over the keys, flawlessly playing Rachmaninoff’s “Rhapsody.” He knew that piece was Alice’s favorite.

His eyes were veiled with what appeared to be regret. “The only thing that proves is that I really was a fool…to have fallen in love with you.”

The quiet stillness he left her with was far more final than if he’d slammed the door on his way out. She laid her hands flat against the cool ivory keys and wished she could take back every word. Was this how her life was to end? Miserable and alone?

She glanced up at the top of the Christmas tree, her vision blurred by tears, to where the tin angel used to sit. “Why did you grant me this miracle, give me this short taste of happiness and love, only to have it ripped so cruelly from me?” she sobbed.

She sat there till her body and mind went numb, but she didn’t get an answer to her plea. The tin angel never appeared.

Jack leaned against the headboard. He hadn’t even bothered to remove his boots before climbing onto the bed. The snow packed on his soles from the trek around the house started to melt, dripping onto his comforter. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything.

How could he have been so stupid as to fall in love with Ally? He’d kept telling himself over and over, be careful.
Don’t lose your heart.
Well, a lot of good that had done. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the picture of her that haunted him, but he couldn’t erase the memory of her touch or the intoxicating fragrance of her perfume. In that moment, he wanted to feel her soft body next to his and to drink the sweet nectar of her kisses.

“Damn you,” he spat, “not only are you dishonest, but you’re a witch too. I fell under your spell, and now I’m paying for it with my heart.”

The telephone’s ringing interrupted his thoughts. He was in no mood to talk to anyone, but he strained to hear the caller’s message. Despite everything, he half hoped it was Ally.

“Jack, love, are you there?” Bethany’s smooth voice flowed from the answering machine. “I hope you are and that you’re listening to this. Forget what I said about needing more time. I’ve got a fabulous idea. Since I can’t be there with you, why don’t you come to Boston and be with me? I’ll give you a New Year’s Eve you won’t forget.” She made a noise that sounded like a growl, then hung up.

If he was smart, that was exactly what he’d do—leave this town and that woman downstairs, whoever she might be, far behind. He should spend a night with Bethany having wild, incredible sex and forget about Ally and love. Both brought nothing but trouble.

He rolled onto his side and turned off the Tiffany-style lamp on his nightstand. The streetlight shining in through his window kept the room aglow. He squeezed his eyes shut, too drained to even pull the window shade.

After what seemed like hours, he drifted into an uneasy sleep and woke at six a.m. still wearing his clothes from the night before. He undressed and padded toward the shower.

As the water ran over him, his thoughts drifted back to Ally. His plan had failed miserably. She not only didn’t confide in him, she must think him an idiot to have fed him that crazy tin angel story.

He wanted to hate her, but he couldn’t. How could he have fallen so hard for a woman he knew nothing about? He didn’t even know her real name. Suddenly a thought occurred to him. What if that part of her story had been true? What if Ally Hart really was her name, and what if she really was from Syracuse? Then maybe that was where he’d find Alice.

He knew he was probably grasping at straws. He should call Pastor Riley and the police, but he was going to get to the bottom of this once and for all, and the only way to do that was to go to New York.

* * *

Alice hung up the phone when Jack’s answering machine picked up. She’d already left three messages. If he would just talk to her, she’d find a way to make him believe her.

Tired and cranky from a night spent tossing and turning, she was in no mood to be ignored. She slipped on her coat, then took the spare key from the hall table. If Jack wouldn’t pick up his phone, he’d darn better answer his door, or she’d have no choice but to let herself in.

I’m not giving up on you, Jack Billings, even if you have given up on me.

She stomped through the snow to the back of the house and raced up the stairs to his apartment. She banged on the door. “Open up, Jack, or I’m coming in.” She waited a few moments, then put her ear to the door, hoping to hear the sound of his footsteps. But all was quiet. She knocked again, waited, then stuck her key in the lock.

“I’ve given you fair warning. Now I’m coming in.” In case he’d been in the shower and not able to hear her banging, she opened the door slowly. An image of him wearing nothing but a towel filtered behind her eyelids.

“Hello,” she called, before entering the dark apartment. The lingering scent of deodorant soap hung in the air. He couldn’t have left that long ago, but for where?

She walked into the living room and sank onto the sofa. Defeat sagged her shoulders. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed quietly. The telephone’s ringing broke through her misery, and she looked up, her cheeks wet with tears. Jack’s sexy voice pierced her heart as she listened to his greeting play from the answering machine. After the beep, she heard a woman’s voice.

“Jack, I hope you took my advice and decided to spend the New Year with me. If you’re not here soon, though, I’ll have to make other plans.” The annoying drone that was Bethany’s call disconnecting seemed to go on forever before the answering machine clicked off.

Alice wanted to scream in frustration. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t go back with that woman. Not out of anger. Not when he loved her… And she loved him. She might only have one day left, but, by golly, she was going to tell him what he meant to her before it was too late. She grabbed the phone and dialed Silvercreek Cab Company.

* * *

Alice paid the taxi driver, offering him a hefty tip. She’d been a nervous wreck the entire trip to Boston. A wet snow was falling, glazing the road, and her trip had taken a lot longer than expected. But she wasn’t complaining. She was thankful she’d gotten to Chesterfield Hall safely.

She stared at the large brick buildings in front of her, having no idea which one housed the dean’s office. As she walked toward the closest one, a student with an armful of books passed through its front doors.

“Excuse me,” Alice said, “do you know where I can find Dr. Snow?”

The girl held her stack steady by resting her chin on the top book. “Next building over to your left. His is the first office. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you.” Alice hurried along the sidewalk. She shivered as the cold wet snowflakes hit her face. She walked up the four concrete steps, taking care not to slip. Once inside, she blew into her frozen hands, then rubbed them warm.

She was taking a chance coming here. Dr. Snow might not be in his office, and, even if he was, there was no guarantee he’d give her Bethany’s address, but it was the only hope she had of finding Jack. Getting this far hadn’t been hard. Jack had mentioned his former employer many times, but finding Bethany’s house was the tough part.

She checked her appearance in the reflection of a large glass showcase. Using her fingers like a comb, she smoothed the snarls from her windblown hair, then straightened the waistband on her pants.