"Angels- 01 - A Season Of Angels" - читать интересную книгу автора (Macomber Debbie)

УYouТll think of something, only .а.а.Ф Gabriel hesitated and leveled his strict gaze on her. УYouТre not to pull the tricks you have in the past, understand?Ф
УYes,Ф Shirley agreed. УI wonТt misplace a single thing,Ф she promised.
УThatТs what Goodness and Mercy told me earlier. I donТt know what it is about you three, but you worry me more than all the other prayer ambassadors combined.Ф His wiped his hand across his face, and briefly closed his eyes. УJust do your level best to stay out of trouble.Ф
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Chet Costello sat down at the bar in the Blue Goose and ordered a cold draft beer. He glanced over his shoulder to be sure that pesky little missionary hadnТt decided to follow him inside. Seldom had he met a more aggravating woman.
УWhatТs plaguing you?Ф Lou asked from the other side of the bar. He polished the mahogany surface with a clean rag, his hand making wide circular movements as he studied Chet. УYou look like youТve lost your best friend.Ф
УYou would too if youТd sat up all night in the cold.Ф
УYou were on a case?Ф
УNo,Ф Chet returned sarcastically, УI enjoy spending my nights in a freezing car peeking at a couple through binoculars. These infidelity cases have always thrilled me.Ф
УNo need to bite my head off.Ф
УThen donТt ask stupid questions.Ф His little run-in with the do-gooder hadnТt done anything to improve his mood. HeТd encountered a hundred pious souls just like her over the years, each one convinced he needed to be saved from himself. HeТd had it with that religious garbage years ago, and hadnТt darkened the door of a church since his mother had died ten years earlier. He had no intention of changing his ways now.
He laughed out loud, the sound echoing like a sonic boom around the almost empty bar.
УWhatТs so funny?Ф Lou asked, eager to share in the humor.
Chet paused, the beer bottle poised in front of his mouth. УShe said there were better ways of settling problems than booze.Ф
УWho?Ф Lou asked, bracing both hands against the edge of the bar and grinning, waiting for an explanation.
УNever mind.Ф Chet wasnТt in the mood to talk. SheТd gotten under his skin, he realized, somewhat surprised. What was her name again? Marcia, no Monica. With her clear, dark eyes and her prim and proper ways, she was desperate to save him from the clutches of demon alcohol.
Part of the problem was how good sheТd felt in his arms, all soft and feminine. The last time heТd held a woman had been .а.а. longer than he cared to think about, Chet realized. It was this job, he decided, that soured him on relationships. No one was faithful anymore, not according to the statistics heТd collected. The child custody cases were the worst and heТd sworn off those. After heТd left the police department years earlier, heТd floundered for a bit before deciding to work as a private investigator. What a crock of bull this had turned out to be. The time was fast approaching when heТd need to find something else. He wouldnТt go back to the force, not after TomТs death. He didnТt trust himself, not anymore. His partner had gotten killed, and Chet had accepted responsibility for the loss of his friend. The incident continued to haunt him. There were certain things in life a man didnТt put behind him, and this was one.
For reasons he couldnТt explain, the erstwhile missionary drifted back into his mind, with her warm, pleading gaze and her soft, sweet mouth.
УYou know, what she really needs is to be kissed,Ф he said aloud. УNone of this pansy stuff of holding hands and gazing longingly into each otherТs eyes either.Ф
Lou glanced his way and without comment continued to polish the sleek wooden surface of the bar. After a moment, he paused and scratched his head. УYou looking to talk?Ф he asked.
УHell, no.Ф
УThatТs what I thought.Ф The bartender resumed his task.
Remembering the way sheТd flung herself against the tavern door produced another burst of laughter. The buttons of her jacket had strained with the effort until she resembled a martyr tied to the stake. She had nice, full breasts, although heaven knew she did everything she could to disguise the fact that she was a woman. If he ever did have the opportunity to kiss her, which was highly unlikely, the first thing heТd do was pull the pins from her hair. It was a travesty to keep it twisted away from her face that way. SheТd have thick, luxuriant hair and heТd run his fingers through it. He imagined sheТd put up a fuss at that. Anything remotely related to sensual pleasure was sure to be sin, pure, unadulterated sin.
Chet knew her type. The mission house down the street from his office was filled with do-gooders thinking their efforts with the derelicts and vagrants were going to make a difference. Chet felt sorry for them more than he did the street people they struggled to reach with their message.
Then why couldnТt he stop thinking about her? The hell if he knew. The hell if he cared. One consolation, he wasnТt likely to run into her again.
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УOf course I remember you, Mr. Lundberg,Ф Mrs. Burchell, the caseworker from New Life Adoption Agency, assured him over the telephone. УItТs good to hear from you again.Ф
Andrew rolled the mechanical pencil between his palms, praying he was doing the right thing. УIТd like to know how difficult it would be for my wife and me to resubmit our application.Ф He leaned against the back of his chair. Leah had been on his mind all day and he was worried about her.
It was so damn unfair that they couldnТt have children. What troubled him most was that there didnТt seem to be any physical reason. TheyТd spent years, and thousands of dollars, working with fertility specialists. LeahТs life was governed by that ridiculous book she kept. He swore sheТd documented her temperature every morning for the last seven years.
Perhaps if theyТd been able to pinpoint the problem as his, Leah might have been able to accept their situation.
УI have your file right here,Ф the caseworker went on to say. УI know you and your wife were terribly disappointed when Melinda Phillips decided to rescind the adoption of her infant son. It doesnТt happen often, but unfortunately these girls do change their minds.Ф
УI understand,Ф Andrew said, not wanting to rehash the details. Having the birth mother change her mind had been much harder on Leah than it had him. TheyТd gone to the hospital, their hearts filled with joy, only to return empty-handed an hour later. Afterward Leah had sat for hours alone in the nursery theyТd so lovingly prepared. Nothing Andrew could say reached her. HeТd been disappointed too and for a while thereТd been a strain between them. Then one day he returned home from the office and discovered that Leah had dismantled the nursery. She calmly announced that sheТd withdrawn their application from New Life and that theyТd simply wait for her to become pregnant and bear a child of their own. She refused to subject them to that kind of torment again.
УIТll be happy to resubmit your names,Ф Mrs. Burchell said, Уbut I must warn you there are fewer babies available for adoption now than before.Ф
УHow long would you predict?Ф
The caseworker hesitated. УI canТt really say. ItТs different with every couple.Ф
УWhat about the Watcombs?Ф Andrew asked. УWe went through the orientation classes with them three years ago.Ф
УAh, yes, the Watcombs. Jessie and Ken, am I right?Ф
УYes. Has their adoption gone through?Ф
УNot yet, but weТre hopeful weТll have an infant for them soon.Ф
AndrewТs hopes plummeted. The Watcombs were special people and he couldnТt imagine any young mother not choosing them to rear her child.
УYou were in the same orientation class as the Sterlings, werenТt you?Ф
Andrew allowed the name to filter through his mind. УHe was a fireman as I recall.Ф
УThatТs the couple. They adopted a baby girl last October.Ф
УThatТs wonderful.Ф
УI thought youТd be pleased.Ф
He was, of course, but a small part of him couldnТt help being envious. Leah desperately wanted a child, and in an effort to reassure her heТd downplayed his own desire for a family. He loved his wife and would give anything for them to have a child.
УDo you still want me to resubmit your name?Ф Mrs. Burchell asked after a momentТs silence.
УPlease,Ф he said, his hand tightening around the receiver. If it took another five years or more, then that was just how long theyТd need to wait. That he was doing this behind LeahТs back didnТt sit well with him, but some action needed to be taken, and this seemed the most logical choice. If they were chosen by a birth mother again, then theyТd make the necessary adjustments. A child was welcome into their lives at any time. Love guaranteed.
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