Page 9 of Angels and Skulls
“There goes my beauty sleep,” I joke, leaning over to give him a quick peck goodnight. “I’ll pack us a breakfast picnic.”
This makes him smile wide. The men of this club do love their food.
I press my lips to his, but when I try to pull away, he stops me by pressing his palm to the back of my head. He thrusts his tongue into my mouth, and I make an embarrassing little noise of surprise.
Oh my.
I’ve done my fair share of flirting with men since my husband passed away, but I never once let it get further than that.
This man snuck up on me.
His other hand cups my face, and I melt against him. It’s the nicest thing I’ve felt in a very long time. I thought this part of myself had turned to dust.
When he backs away, he has a smile on his face that I hope I’m fortunate enough to see until my dying day.
“Tomorrow?”
I nod, nervously fixing my hair. It’s not often I get flustered. “Don’t be late,” I warn him, ignoring the pulse beating between my thighs.
“Who knows, I might show up real early.” He wags his eyebrows at me. “If you’re still asleep, I’ll just slide right under those warm covers and wait for you to wake up.”
I turn away from him. “Oh, okay, oh my, okay.” My hand frantically searches for the door handle. This man is too much, but I’ll admit I don’t hate the way he makes me feel.
He chuckles.
I think this must be his favorite side of me, because he’s always trying to bring it out.
“Tomorrow, my love,” he says as I slip from the car.
I turn around once I’m out and blow him a kiss. He pretends to catch it, and then he presses his palm against his chest.
It makes my teenage heart giddy. The only thing that would make my life better right now was if my daughter were alive.
When I get inside, I walk over to the mantel above my tiny fireplace and open the wooden box I keep there. I reach in and take out one of the purple crystals I’ve found over the years. My gaze roams over my collection. At first I thought I was crazy thinking they were from her, but I couldn’t think of who else would be putting them on top of Harold’s headstone.
Is it a sign? Does it have something to do with the letter …
I can’t let myself go there.
This is proof of what grief can do to someone. You can convince yourself of almost anything. I need to think practically here. It’s just a coincidence.
My daughter’s ashes are buried in the cemetery. She’s not leaving crystals at gravesites. I’m positive she’s gone.
We compared dental records.
I fall into my chair still holding the crystal in my hand. My mind replays the day Rachel picked up the file so she could fax it to the coroner’s office for us. Waiting to hear their conclusion was pure torture.
Rachel had the file …
I halt my thoughts before they completely run away from me. There’s no use wondering about what the letter Lexie has for me might say. I’ll just have to wait until I see her tomorrow at lunch. Then I’ll know.
As I lay my head on my pillow, the ember of hope I’ve unsuccessfully tried to extinguish over the years takes flight once again, setting my entire chest on fire.
God, I know this is impossible, but I’d do anything if you’d bring my daughter back from the dead.
A little voice inside my head, whether from God or myself, douses my prayers …You’re right … it’s impossible.
Chapter Four
