Page 66 of Kiss an Angel

“You brought this on yourself,” she pointed out,

A tiny, plaintive trumpet.

“I tried to be nice.”

Another pathetic trumpet. And then, to her astonishment, she saw tears begin to trickle from his eyes. Digger had told her that elephants were one of the most emotional animals in existence and they’d been known to cry, but she hadn’t believed him. Now, as she watched the tears running down over Tater’s wrinkled skin, her resentment dissolved.

For the second time that day, she forgot her aversion to petting animals. She reached out her hand and stroked Tater’s trunk. “That’s not fair. You’re as big a crybaby as I am.”

His head perked up and he took a few tentative steps toward her. When he came close, he stopped as if to ask for permission before he rubbed his head against her shoulder.

Once again he nearly sent her flying, although this time the gesture was one of affection. She rubbed his forehead. “Don’t think that just because I forgive you I’m going to be a pushover. You have to mind your manners or it’s all over between us.”

He snuggled against her as gently as a kitten.

“No more swats. No nasty bathroom tricks.”

He let out a soft puff of air, and she surrendered. “You silly baby.”

As Daisy lost her heart, Alex stood by the back door of the big top and watched it all happening. He saw the elephant curl his trunk over her arm and smiled to himself. Whether Daisy knew it or not, she’d just made a friend for life. He chuckled and headed toward the red wagon.

Heather had never been so miserable. She sat at the kitchen table of their Airstream and stared down at her day’s schoolwork, but the print on the page wouldn’t come into focus. Like the other circus kids, she was doing her schoolwork by correspondence through the Calvert School in Baltimore, a place that specialized in teaching children who couldn’t go to regular school. Every few weeks a fat envelope arrived full of books, papers, and tests.

Sheba had gotten into the habit of supervising Heather’s schoolwork, but Sheba’s own formal education hadn’t been terrific, and she was pretty lame at anything except monitoring the tests. Heather was having trouble with geometry, and she’d gotten a D on her last English composition.

Now she pushed her book aside and stared down at the piece of notebook paper in front of her that she’d been doodling on. Mrs. Alex Markov. Heather Markov. Heather Pepper Markov.

Shit. Why had he let her do it? Why had Alex let Daisy kiss him like that right out there in front of everyone? Heather had wanted to die when she saw that kiss. She hated Daisy’s guts, and the best thing about these past few weeks had been seeing her all dirty and nasty from hauling shit. She deserved to haul shit.

Over and over Heather tried to ease her guilt about what she’d done to Daisy by telling herself that Daisy deserved what had happened to her. She didn’t belong here. She didn’t fit in. And she should never have married Alex. Alex had been Heather’s.

She’d fallen in love with him six weeks ago when she’d first set eyes on him. Unlike her father, he always had time to talk to her. He didn’t mind having her follow him around, and before Daisy had come along, he’d even taken her with him sometimes when he’d gone to run errands. Once when they were in Jacksonville, they’d gone into this art gallery together and he’d explained stuff to her about the pictures. He also encouraged her, to talk about her mother and had said couple of things about why her dad was so stubborn.

But as much as she loved him, she knew he still thought of her as a kid. Lately she’d been thinking that maybe if he’d realized she was a woman, he’d have looked at her differently and not married Daisy.

Once again, guilt stabbed at her. She hadn’t planned to take that money and hide it in Daisy’s suitcase, but she’d gone into the red wagon, and Daisy had taken that phone call, and the cash drawer had been open, and it had just happened.

It was wrong, but she kept telling herself it wasn’t too wrong. Alex didn’t want Daisy—Sheba said the same thing. Daisy was going to make him miserable, and because of what Heather had done, he could find it out right now instead of later on.

But the kiss she’d witnessed this morning told her Daisy wasn’t going to let him go that easy. Heather still couldn’t believe the way she’d thrown herself at him. Alex didn’t need her! He didn’t need Daisy when he could have Heather.

But how was he supposed to know the way she felt about him when she’d never told him? She pushed aside her books and jumped up. She couldn’t stand it any longer. She had to make him see that she wasn’t a kid. She had to make him understand that he didn’t need Daisy.

Without giving herself time for second thoughts, she rushed from the trailer and headed toward the red wagon.

Alex looked up from the desk as Heather walked in. She’d tucked her thumbs into the pockets of her plaid shorts, which were almost entirely covered by an oversize white T-shirt. She looked pale and unhappy, like a fairy-sprite with clipped wings. His heart went out to her. She had it rough, but she kept fighting, and he liked that about her.

“What’s up, honey?”

She didn’t reply at first. Instead, she began to wander aimlessly around the trailer, touching the arm of the couch, the handle on a file cabinet. He saw a faint orange mark on her cheekbone where she’d tried to camouflage a pimple, and he felt a rush of tenderness. Someday soon, she was going to be a real beauty.

“Troubles?”

Her head snapped up. “Not me.”

“That’s good.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed. “I just thought you might want to know . . .” She ducked her head and began to poke at the cuticle around one chewed fingernail.

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