Wings of an Angel Read online

  “I know. That’s what makes you such a good friend.” She squeezed his hand then turned to Nick, nudging him toward the door. Drake walked beside her carrying the shoebox with the bird. At the door, she took the box from him. “I’ll let you know how our feathered friend does later.”

  Drake knew that meant she didn’t want to worry Nick in case the bird died. He walked with them to the outside door and held it open for her. “Sounds great, Angel.” Whoops. He hadn’t meant to call her that, even though she looked like one as she stood in a shaft of late afternoon sunlight. The golden streamers created a soft glow around her, like she wore a glowing halo instead of just her hair twisted back in a messy bun. With her rosy cheeks and perfect ivory complexion, he had no problem at all imagining her as a celestial being.

  Afraid of what her reaction to his slip up might be, he bent down and grinned at Nick. “Hey, thanks again for your help, buddy.”

  “Anytime, Mr. Miller. Bye!”

  “Bye, Nick.”

  Drake waved once then hurried inside, mentally kicking himself all the way back to his classroom. He’d better rein in his thoughts where one gorgeous vet was concerned or he’d end up losing her friendship. For now, friend status was better than nothing at all.

  Chapter Two

  “I’m really, really sorry I was late picking you up today, baby,” Angela said, glancing in the rearview mirror at her son.

  Nick munched on celery sticks filled with peanut butter that she’d packed for his afternoon snack. In between bites, he slurped apple juice from a straw poked in a juice pouch. “It’s okay, Mom,” he said, after he swallowed the bite he was chewing. “I always have fun with Mr. Miller.”

  “I know you do, honey. He’s a good teacher and a good friend.” Angela wouldn’t allow herself to think about just how good of a friend the handsome, friendly man had been to her since she moved to town. She certainly wouldn’t consider the kind of friend she wished he could be. The door to that type of dreaming was not only firmly closed, but also nailed shut.

  Three years ago, she’d been wandering through the grocery store, questioning whether moving to the small town of Faraday had been the right thing to do. She turned at the end of an aisle and collided with an attractive man who welcomed her to town with an honest, inviting smile.

  Drake introduced himself, teased a grin out of Nick, who’d been so young and unsettled by the changes in his life at that time, and endeared himself to her. Her heart had pitter-pattered at the sight of the dimple in his chin and the light that seemed to shine from his warm blue eyes.

  If she was willing to allow herself to fall in love again, Drake was the one person capable of winning her heart. After all, he’d called her Angel today. No one called her Angel, not ever. But she’d certainly liked the way it sounded when he said it. Under other circumstances, before her life had so drastically changed, she would have thrown herself at Drake’s feet and begged him to love her.

  Unfortunately, her heart was safely encased behind a thick, impenetrable wall she’d erected before her husband died, and she had no plans to ever go down the road of matrimony again. But if someone could master the impossible and entice her in that direction, Drake was the man for the job.

  Tall and lean with a head full of brown hair, Drake was outgoing, funny, sweet, goofy, and, in her estimation, one of the nicest guys on the planet. She had yet to meet anyone in the Faraday community who had a bad thing to say about him. Drake always seemed engaging, intelligent, patient, and supportive, not to mention strong. She’d seen the way he easily picked up Nick and swung him around as though he weighed no more than a bag of feathers.

  Everyone at Faraday School raved about him, not only because his students were well-behaved and eager to learn, but also because he was that guy who made everything seem more fun, special, and exciting. She knew he was often among the first to arrive at school in the morning and the last to leave. If one of the other teachers needed help, he was quick to lend a hand. She’d even seen him filling in as a temporary coach with the junior varsity basketball team one afternoon when the regular coach was out sick.

  From past conversations with Drake, she knew he could have been a pro basketball player. He’d been on track to make it to the NBA when he sustained a career-ending injury during his junior year of college. Unable to pursue his dream career, he switched gears and went into teaching.

  It surprised her that he’d chosen to teach first-graders when he could have been a high school teacher and coach. When she questioned his choice, he told her he possessed the energy and stamina needed for the younger grades. He wanted to be able to share his enthusiasm for life and learning with them when they were still young and so very impressionable.

  Drake was an amazing teacher and Nick clearly loved him. Truthfully, Drake was one of the few people in town she trusted to watch over her son. Not that she couldn’t trust others, she just hadn’t invested the time in friendships that a deeper level of trust required. However, she knew Drake well along with his brother, Drew, and their parents.

  She’d met a newcomer to town a few months ago, Joy Cooke, when a donkey showed up in the woman’s backyard. Pete, as Joy named the donkey, had obviously suffered from abuse. Joy called Angela to treat the donkey for his injuries and the two of them spent a while chatting. If Angela had time to work on building friendships, Joy would be among those she sought out.

  Nevertheless, she had no close female friends. No girlfriends to shop with or tell secrets to, or dish with about guys. Angela didn’t have time for things she currently considered frivolous, even if there were activities and pastimes she used to enjoy and now missed. It had been years since she’d gone to a mall and wandered through the stores just for fun. The last time she’d done so seemed like a lifetime ago, when she was a completely different person. One who still believed in fairytales and finding her very own prince charming.

  Right now, her little boy was her entire world and she’d do anything to protect him. Anything.

  “Is Mr. Dove still being quiet, baby?” Angela asked as she turned down a side street and drove to a house that had been painted a glaring shade of purple. Poor Mrs. Burnside refused to admit she was nearly blind, but the only one she fooled was herself. People cleared out of her way when she drove through town and did their best to help her when she shopped because she could no longer distinguish colors or labels. Obviously, the paint counter at the hardware store hadn’t gotten the memo about helping Mrs. Burnside with her color selections.

  “I think he’s still sleeping, Mom. Should I wake him up?” Nick asked reaching for the shoebox on the seat next to him.

  “No, let him sleep for now. I’ll leave the engine running so he doesn’t get cold. Do you want to stay in the truck or come with me?” Angela asked as she picked up the medical bag she carried with a variety of supplies, uncertain of what she’d find with Mrs. Burnside’s stray cat.

  “I’ll come with you, Mom. You might need my help,” Nick said, unfastening his seatbelt and climbing off his booster seat. He opened the back door and jumped down from the pickup before her feet touched the ground.

  Angela took his hand in hers as they made their way up the front walk. Nick stared at the gaudy purple paint and started to say something, but she shook her head and made a locking motion with her fingers next to her lips, the signal for him to keep his thoughts to himself.

  Nick pushed the doorbell and they waited, listening as Mrs. Burnside’s footsteps grew louder as she approached the door.

  “Who is it?” the old woman asked.

  “It’s Angela and Nick Carol, Mrs. Burnside. You asked me to check on the stray cat.”

  “Oh, yes, I did,” Mrs. Burnside said, yanking open the door. “Come on in.”

  Angela darted a glance at Nick and gave him another lock-your-lip signal as they both tried not to gape at Mrs. Burnside’s outfit. The long, flowing orange tunic she wore clashed with the pink floral vest that topped it. Bright green pants and fuzzy yellow sli
ppers completed her vibrant outfit.

  Uncertain whether the woman dressed that way intentionally or because she couldn’t see the colors, Angela had to look away to keep from asking the question.

  “The cat is on the back porch. I just fed him a few minutes ago. He acts so strange and makes the oddest sound,” Mrs. Burnside said, preceding them down the hall and into the kitchen. She opened the back door and stood to the side. “He should be there by the food bowl.”

  Angela glanced down at her son. “Stay right here, Nick. If I need help, I’ll let you know. Okay?”

  “Okay, Mom,” Nick said, still distracted by Mrs. Burnside. He studied the woman as though he expected her to put on a clown’s wig and perform a magic act or two.

  Angela stepped outside and looked to her right, but saw nothing unusual. A growl to her immediate left, though, caused her to slowly turn her head toward the sound while her body remained still. The guttural sound was definitely not from a cat.

  “Hear him, dear? That’s not normal for a feline, is it?” Mrs. Burnside asked from inside the kitchen.

  “No, it isn’t.” Angela blinked twice. Mrs. Burnside’s supposed cat was a huge raccoon, one of the biggest she’d ever seen.

  The raccoon hissed and bared his teeth before running toward her, making it clear he wanted no interference with his free meal plan from the sight-impaired old woman.

  Angela yelped and raced inside the kitchen, slamming the door before the raccoon could run inside.

  “Mommy?” Nick asked, concerned by her scream and the fact she leaned against the door, her breath coming in tight gasps.

  “It’s okay, baby. There’s a raccoon out there, not a cat.”

  “Oh, gracious!” Mrs. Burnside said, hurrying over to peer out the window by her kitchen table. “Do you suppose it ate the cat?”

  “No, Mrs. Burnside, the raccoon did not eat the cat. The animal you’ve been feeding isn’t a cat. It is the raccoon.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you must be mistaken, dear. The cat had a dark face and the cutest little paws, almost like fingers and he makes the most adorable little growling sound when I put out his food. Sometime he stands on his back legs and holds out his paws, like he’s begging. He’s just precious, but if he’s gone that wretched beast must have swallowed him whole!”

  Angela rolled her eyes and placed an arm around Nick. “Mrs. Burnside, there is no cat. There never was a cat. Only the raccoon. I’ll call someone to come get it. They’ll probably be here tomorrow.” Angela nudged Nick forward so they could leave. “Under no circumstances should you open that door tonight. Is that understood?”

  “Of course! I don’t want that blood-thirsty monster in my house!” Mrs. Burnside pressed a hand to her throat, as though the raccoon held the power to summon unchecked death and destruction if he gained entry to her home.

  “Just stay inside, Mrs. Burnside, and everything will be fine,” Angela assured the woman as they walked to the front door. “Do you need anything before we leave?”

  “No, dear. I’m all set for the evening. Wait until I call Gladys and tell her I’ve got a masked devil trying to get in my house.” Mrs. Burnside’s fear quickly transformed to glee. “Why, I bet it’ll set the phone lines buzzing all evening, especially if I don’t tell them it’s a raccoon. I bet Bertha will think it’s that weird little man who hangs out at the pool hall.”

  “Just remember you aren’t to open the back door.” Angela patted the woman’s arm, then took Nick’s hand in hers and jogged out to her pickup. Once Nick was fastened into his seat, she turned around and grinned at him. “That was interesting, wasn’t it?”

  “Oh, Mom! Mrs. Burnside thinks the raccoon is her kitty!” Nick erupted in laughter and giggled all the way home. He was still amused as she drove around the side of their one-story craftsman home and parked in the big garage at the back of the house.

  Angela gathered her things then picked up the box with the bird and led the way into the house. The smell of dinner filled the air with a pleasant aroma that made her stomach growl. She couldn’t remember if she ate lunch or not then recalled she’d started to eat her sandwich when she had an emergency call to a farm a few miles outside of town. By the time she returned to the office, she’d seen three furry patients before the distraught owner carried in the dog that had been hit on the road.

  Some days she was glad for the hectic, busy pace of her practice. It kept her from having the time or energy to dwell on the complete lack of balance in her life. Other days, she wished she could sleep in, visit a spa, maybe have her nails done, eat a leisurely lunch, and take a nap.

  “It’ll never happen,” she murmured as she set her things down in the laundry room that connected to the garage. She and Nick kicked off their boots. While Nick hung up his coat and carried his backpack into the kitchen, Angela set the shoebox on the dryer and carefully opened the lid. The bird blinked at her, but didn’t move. “Hey, Mr. Dove. Looks like you need a little more time to be ready to fly. I’m going to leave you right here and come back in a bit to check on you.”

  She padded the top of the dryer with a thick towel so it would be warmer for the bird, and set his box on it then removed her coat. She left the rest of her things on a narrow table by the door. Before she left the laundry room, she flicked off the light so the bird could rest.

  “Dinner smells good, Mom. I’m starving,” Nick said as he balanced on his midsection over the edge of the sink and washed his hands. “What are we eating?”

  “One of your favorites. I made a hobo dinner.” Angela smiled as Nick jumped down and did a fist pump in the air. Her boy gobbled up anything with meat and potatoes, although he was generally a good eater and not picky. But he loved the meatloaf and sliced potatoes meal she cooked in the slow cooker by wrapping the potatoes in foil to keep them separate from the meatloaf.

  With time at a premium, Angela had learned to make a variety of meals she could put in the slow cooker in the morning and come home to enjoy at night. She had it down to an art and could even whip up a dessert in the slow cooker if necessary. Between eating leftovers and the two or three meals she made during the week, she and Nick always had a nice dinner. Thank goodness for the slow-cooker liners she bought by the dozens that made clean-up a breeze.

  “You set the table and I’ll get everything ready.”

  Angela was proud of her little boy. For the most part, he rarely fussed or whined, and usually minded. Many times, he jumped in to help her before being asked. While she appreciated him, appreciated his helpfulness, she worried sometimes that he was growing up too fast because it was just the two of them. She couldn’t help but wonder if Nick would allow himself to be a carefree kid if he had a father figure at home.

  In spite of her worries about her son, she couldn’t help but grin as Nick set plates and silverware on the kitchen table while he sang a song Drake had taught the students.

  “Guess what, Mom,” Nick said as he took a few running steps and slid on his sock feet across the kitchen floor, almost taking a nosedive into the fridge.

  Angela caught him before he fell and tickled his sides, making him giggle and squirm. “What, baby?”

  “When Mr. Miller asked us to spell words today, I got mine all right and got to pick something out of the treasure chest.”

  “You did? That’s awesome,” Angela said, giving Nick a high five. She thought it was brilliant of Drake to keep a wooden chest that really did look like a pirate’s chest full of little toys and treats. He randomly used it to reward students for doing well. Nick always got so excited when he was able to choose something from the chest. “What did you pick?”

  Nick dug into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small red yo-yo. He held it out for Angela to see.

  “Oh, I had one of these when I was a kid. I loved playing with it.” Angela turned from the green beans she’d just popped into the microwave to heat and took the yo-yo in her hand. She tied a loop in the end of the string and slid it over her middle finger
then gently tossed the toy away from her and pulled it back.

  “Yay, Mom! You made it go!” Nick clapped his hands and hopped from one foot to the other. “Can you teach me to do that?”

  “Sure, baby. Right after dinner and homework, and feeding the animals.” Angela should have stopped long enough to check on their pets when they first arrived home, but she didn’t want to leave the dove in the cold and she was as hungry as Nick claimed to be.

  “Okay, Mom,” Nick said, skipping across the kitchen. He opened the fridge and started to pull out the gallon jug of milk, but Angela grabbed it before he dropped it.

  “I think that’s still a little heavy for you, son.” She broke the seal on the cap and unscrewed the lid. “If the milk jug holds 16 cups of milk…” Angela poured two glasses full and screwed the lid back on. “And we just took away two cups, how many are left in the jug?”

  Nick tipped his head to the left and got such a look of concentration on his face, Angela had to tamp down a laugh at his comical expression. She set the glasses on the table then retrieved the green beans from the microwave and set the bowl on the table.

  “Is it fourteen?” Nick asked, slightly hesitant with his answer.

  “You are such a smart boy, baby. That’s exactly right. Good job!” Angela gave him a hug and he beamed with pride.

  “Mr. Miller says I’m good with math, but I like reading best.” Nick gave her a playful grin. “And recess.”

  Angela tweaked his nose. “Oh, you!”

  He giggled as she sliced the meatloaf and transferred the potatoes to a serving bowl. She set the food on the table, then took a seat. Nick sat beside her and took her hand in his as Angela offered a brief but heartfelt prayer of thanks for the meal.

  Nick chattered between bites of food, telling her all about his day. When they finished eating, he carried dishes to the dishwasher and loaded them while she stored leftovers in the fridge.