Falling Angel Read online

  It would be easier if he wasn't so extraordinarily beautiful. It would be easier if he wasn't so troubled, so obviously torn by conflict. She wanted to soothe him, comfort him, help him. She already owed so much to so many people. She could just add him to her list. She could do her best to help Jeffie, the Swensens, Gertrude and the Milsoms, she could save Gabriel, and she could deny herself and her own selfish wants.

  An odd thought. Why should Gabriel need saving? He was clearly better off than Lars Swensen—at least he had a job to go to in another month. He didn't have six hungry mouths to feed, a mortgage to meet, a crushing sense of failure that was in no way his due.

  But Gabriel had something eating at him. Darkness lurked behind his eyes, a darkness of the soul. And Carrie had the uneasy suspicion that his demons might prove too much even for her.

  Her room was cold. She usually left the doors open to let the heat circulate, but tonight she wanted to be closed in, with barriers of wood between her and the man stretched out on her grandmother's old couch. She couldn't save everyone, fix everything. It was her foolish need to do so that had gotten Angel Falls into the disaster it was in. And Carrie had every intention of paying her debts. Not amassing new ones.

  When she awoke sunlight was streaming in the old multipaned windows, spreading across the quilt that covered her, reaching to her fingertips. She lay without moving, absorbing the heat, slowly coming to wakefulness. She had a reason to wake up today, something exciting had happened, but in the first mists of sleep she couldn't remember what.

  She glanced over at the old windup alarm clock. It must have stopped last night, and she'd never noticed. It said ten-thirty, and she never slept past six in the morning nowadays.

  But she could hear the steady ticking, a loud, comforting noise. She could hear another, rhythmic thud, coming from outside. And she remembered why she was happy. Too late to keep from feeling that pleasure. Gabriel was here.

  Snow was melting from the trees outside her bedroom window as she quickly threw on some clothes. The storm last night was leaving as quickly as it had come, the thick wet snow disappearing. She frowned for a moment, leaning her head against the pane of glass. She'd been ready for snow. Once Thanksgiving came, it was part of the whole Christmas season, a welcome enough part as long as it didn't choose to storm on a day she planned to go shopping.

  She wouldn't be doing much shopping this year, nor would most of Angel Falls, with the factory shut down. It was going to be a homemade Christmas, and probably better for it.

  She could smell coffee, and she hoped it was Gabriel, not Jeffie, who'd made it. Jeffie had brewed it a couple of days before, and it had taken all her limited acting ability to choke down two cups of the stuff, which was closer to toxic waste than French roast.

  There was no sign of either visitor when she reached the kitchen. She poured herself a cup of coffee, noticing with relief that the color was a normal dark brown, not black sludge. There were clean dishes in the drainer, and the heat in the room came from a freshly stoked wood stove, as well as the bright sunlight. She moved toward the row of windows, mug of coffee in her hand, and looked out.

  They'd been busy, the two of them. There was a pile of freshly split wood in the melting snow. Jeffie was nowhere in sight. But Gabriel was there, in the warm winter sun. Stripped to the waist, he was splitting the oversize firewood.

  She couldn't move. She was mesmerized by the ripple and play of the muscles in his strong back. By the faint sheen of sweat on his golden skin. He'd tied his hair back with a discarded strip of quilting material, out of the way, and his long, muscled arms moved in a steady, hypnotic rhythm.

  She'd deliberately kept herself from thinking about his body when she'd gone back up to bed last night. His face was troublesome enough, his almost angelic beauty that still managed to be completely masculine. When he'd come so close to her the night before, she'd been mesmerized. By the smooth golden texture of his skin. The corded sinew of muscle and bone beneath that skin. The faint tracery of dark hair, not too much, not too little. The long, long legs, the narrow hips. Everything about him entranced her, brought back feelings she thought she'd managed to squash down permanently. They were back in full force as she stood in the window of her old kitchen and watched a stranger work on her woodpile.

  He must have felt her eyes on him. He turned suddenly, looking back at the house, and through the old window his eyes met hers. And she realized with sudden faintness that his beautiful face, his strong, sexy body, were nothing, nothing at all, compared to the siren lure of his dark, troubled eyes.

  And then the spell was broken as Steve's tow truck lumbered up her winding driveway, dragging a rusty old pickup truck. Jeffie was riding in the front seat, next to Steve, and he looked like a normal, excited seventeen-year-old. If only he always looked like that.

  "She's all messed up," Jeffie called out jovially as he bounced out of the truck.

  Gabriel turned to look at his vehicle, and his expression was pardonably dismayed. Dropping the maul, he reached for his abandoned flannel shirt and started toward the tow truck. The conversation was too low-pitched for Carrie to hear, and she stilled her curiosity. She could see well enough that his truck wasn't going to take him away from Angel Falls for the next few days at least. That was enough for now.

  Draining her now-lukewarm coffee, she headed for the telephone. It didn't take her long to accomplish her objectives, so that by the time Jeffie and Gabriel walked into the kitchen, accompanied, of course, by Steve, she had everything neatly arranged.

  "His truck's real messed up, Carrie," Steve, a balding, cheerful bachelor in his late forties, announced as he took her automatically proffered cup of coffee. "I'm gonna have to order a new wheel, and that axle'll be a bitch to straighten. I told Gabe here that he's gonna have to get used to spending a few days at the back of beyond."

  Carrie glanced over at Gabriel, who shrugged. "That's easy enough to say in a place that doesn't have a motel."

  "I've taken care of that," Carrie announced cheerfully.

  "Have you, now?" There was no reprimand in his low, even tone, but nevertheless Carrie felt some of her buoyancy vanish. She was used to taking care of people—in a small town like Angel Falls everyone looked out for one another, and she made it her business to make sure everyone was taken care of. She'd forgotten what it was like out in the real world. Where everyone had his or her own space and didn't like other people invading it. Where no one wanted to accept favors or let other people do for them. Out in the real world people wanted to control their own destinies, and most of them spent fruitless years trying to do just that.

  "I've done it again, haven't I?" she asked, her voice rueful. "I was just trying to be helpful, and I got carried away. I'm sorry. I haven't committed you to anything. I just checked with Lars and Maggie to make sure they had room for you, if you wanted to board with them. You need a place, they could do with a little extra cash."

  He didn't say a word, letting her babble. Once again she got the strange sense of dichotomy, almost a schizophrenia. On the one hand, he clearly wanted to tell her to stuff her concern. On the other hand, he seemed to be leaning toward accepting her help.

  "Anyway," she continued, "it's a place you can stay if you need to. And if you don't have any money I know they'd be more than happy to put you up anyway. I just thought it would be a way to solve both your problems."

  "Is that what you do, Carrie? Solve people's problems?" There was no edge to the question he asked. It was simply put, curious. And yet she felt oddly guilty.

  "Course, it is," Steve said jovially, oblivious to the undercurrents in the room. "We count on Carrie around here. Course, she can't work miracles. She can't stop the factory from closing, she can't raise the dead. But she comes darn close."

  There was an odd expression in Gabriel's dark eyes. "Darn close," he echoed softly. "As a matter of fact, I've got some money. Not a lot, but I have to live somewhere until my next job, and Angel Falls seems as good a place
as any. If the Swensens will take me I'll be glad to stay there."

  She felt slightly encouraged. "I might be able to come up with a little work for you. There's not much in town right now, what with the factory shutting down, but this house could do with a little shoring up before winter really hits."

  To her relief he didn't get that cold, distant expression again. "Before winter hits? What was last night?"

  Steve laughed. "Last night was just a lick and a promise. When the snows really come you'll know it. Matter of fact, if you're staying, either here or anywhere north of Kansas, you're gonna be needing some snow tires on that truck of yours."

  "I don't know if my finances will go that far."

  "Maybe we can work something out. You could give me a hand at the garage to pay off your bill. Even in a depression people still need to keep their cars running."

  "I don't know anything about cars."

  Steve looked startled. "That's funny. You seemed to have a pretty good sense of what you were doing when I opened the hood out there."

  "If Gabriel says he doesn't know anything about cars then he doesn't," Jeffie piped up, instantly defensive. "Do you think he's lying to you?"

  "Calm down, kid," Steve said. "I wasn't meaning no offense. I just thought it was odd, is all."

  "Well, you can…"

  "Never mind," Gabriel overrode Jeffie's protest. "I've got good instincts, but not much knowledge. Let's see how the current bill goes and we'll take it from there."

  "Sure thing," Steve said. "I'll just tow her into town now. Want a ride? I'll be going right past the Swensens."

  "Carrie can drive him," Jeffie announced.

  "Who says she wants to?" Steve was getting a little testy at this point, and Carrie decided it was time to intervene. She was beginning to feel a little like a juicy bone, being fought over by two hungry dogs. She knew perfectly well that Steve harbored certain fruitless romantic feelings toward her. What was new was Jeffie's possessiveness. She didn't have any illusions that he might have suddenly developed an adolescent crush on her. He wanted her for Gabriel.

  As for the stranger, he hadn't said a word. If he knew what was going on, he gave no sign of it. His eyes met hers, and she felt that icy-warm shiver reach down to her toes. "If you're willing to wait, I'll drive you in a couple of hours," she said. "Jeffie needs to get some fresh clothes, and I wanted to get a start on my Christmas shopping."

  She startled him into breaking the mesmerizing eye contact. "Christmas shopping?" he echoed, obviously aghast. "Today?"

  "It's tradition," Steve explained. "People always go Christmas shopping the day after Thanksgiving."

  "That's why it's the most crowded day of the year," Gabriel protested.

  "That's what's so much fun about it," Carrie said. "I usually don't even buy anything. I just like the crowds and excitement."

  "You're crazy," he said flatly.

  "A little."

  Jeffie was looking worried. For some reason he seemed to have decided that Gabriel was the best thing since sliced bread, despite or perhaps because of their little run-in last night. While his newfound hero worship was extreme, Jeffie was still fairly protective of her. He clearly didn't like the idea of sparks between the two of them. But he wasn't sure which side to be on.

  "As long as you don't drag me shopping," Gabriel said.

  "I don't think anybody could drag you anywhere you didn't want to go."

  "I hope you're right," he said obscurely. "Jeffie and I will fill the wood boxes. After that, you can show me what you want done around here."

  That easily he'd turned things around, taking control. Suddenly she was on the receiving end, and she wasn't sure she liked it. She accepted it, however, with good grace. She nodded, turning to Steve, who'd been watching all this with a preoccupied expression on his face. "Would you like any more coffee?"

  He roused himself with an effort. "Nah, I've got to get going. I want to finish in time to do a little shopping myself. I have to get something for my best girl." He gave her a meaningful leer, one she responded to with a faint smile, and then Steve followed Jeffie out into the cool morning air.

  Gabriel was still standing there, an odd expression on his face. "Best girl?" he echoed.

  She wanted to tell him it wasn't any of his business, as it certainly wasn't. She wanted to go into lengthy explanations, all of which would have told too much and not enough. She countered with a question of her own. "What's it to you?"

  "Nothing. Nothing at all." He started toward the door, his back rigid, and she made the major mistake of not dropping it there.

  "He's a friend," she said. "I have lots of friends."

  He stopped at the door, not turning around. "He wants more," he said.

  "I know. I don't give more. To anyone." She said it, out loud, clear and simple.

  He turned to look at her then, a disturbed expression in his dark eyes, and she wondered if he was simply surprised by her statement. Or disbelieving. He'd felt the pull between the two of them as strongly as she had. She knew it.

  But he didn't argue. He simply nodded, accepting. Agreeing. And then followed Jeffie out into the bright winter sunlight.

  He'd never split firewood before in his life. He'd been grateful that Carrie had slept late, no witness to his miserable early attempts at turning a solid chunk of log into firewood.

  Jeffie had tried to show him, but he was at that gangly, postadolescent age, all arms and legs and gawky gracelessness. Besides, he'd been so eager to please that his clumsiness had increased, so that even Gabriel's feeble attempts had shown better results.

  He hadn't said anything about the late-night visit to the kitchen. Indeed, Jeffie had studiously avoided mentioning it, being careful to fill any possible conversational openings with lively, slightly nervous chatter that precluded anything more meaningful. Gabriel was glad to leave it at that. He still didn't quite understand why he'd interfered the night before, and he wasn't eager to get even more involved. For some reason Jeffie, instead of resenting his interference, seemed almost pathetically grateful.

  Gabriel took the wood-splitting instruction with good grace, discovering, if he just forgot to think about it, his body took over, falling into the rhythm with a naturalness that made his previous claims of knowing nothing about wood seem a blatant lie.

  The same had happened with the pickup. When Steve had finally managed to drag the poor old wreck up the road, Gabriel had opened the hood with unerring instinct, poked around at parts he couldn't name, his hands knowing what his brain didn't.

  He'd have to watch himself. At this rate, Jeffie would start thinking he was an alien. Invasion of the Body Snatchers wasn't far-off.

  He couldn't help but wonder if there really was a Gabriel Falconi somewhere. A tall, muscular Italian carpenter with the face of a Botticelli angel. If so, what happened to him? Had he died, too? Or was he simply a figment of Augusta's sourly twisted imagination?

  It didn't really matter. What mattered was getting through the next month in one piece. He was supposed to save three people. One of whom he'd already discovered. She was obviously his first priority—he'd have to assume someone would lead him in the direction of the other two once he'd taken care of Carrie.

  He didn't want to be led away from her. He didn't want to save her. When he let his imagination drift, he found he really wanted to debauch her in some pleasant, mutually agreeable manner. She'd warned him off with words, with body language. But her eyes said something completely different.

  What the hell was wrong with her? How was he going to save her, when he'd made such a mess of his own life? And how was he going to be around her for however long it took without touching her? Kissing her? Pushing her down onto that lumpy sofa that had been more torture rack than bed and making love to her on that beautiful quilt?

  "You got any kids, Gabriel?" Jeffie asked as he arranged the firewood in an artistic configuration.

  "No. But I'm only thirty-two years old."

  "I've go
t a brother who's thirty-two."

  Gabriel stopped what he was doing, looking over at the boy with the deliberately casual stance and the wary expression in his eyes.

  "Do you? Does he live around here?"

  Jeffie shrugged. "No one really knows where he is. He dropped out of college, joined some commune years ago. Every now and then he sends my parents some book about enlightenment."

  "What does he send you?"

  Jeffie's smile was twisted. "I think he's forgotten about me. I was only five when he left. I think he's up in Alaska now. Becoming one with the seals, or something like that."

  "Sounds pretty flaky."

  "That's what my parents say. They're pretty disappointed in him. Guess that's what parenting's all about. Disappointment."

  Gabriel had a tendency to agree, but different words came out. "I don't know about that. I think being a parent's probably the most important thing anyone can do."

  "Not if you ask my parents." Jeffie dropped another log onto the pile, and the neat stack collapsed in a welter of firewood. He swore at them, something quite astonishingly obscene, and Gabriel, who used such words frequently, had to bite back an uncharacteristic reproof. Jeffie would have to learn by himself not to use those words indiscriminately. Gabriel wasn't going to lecture him.

  Besides, Jeffie wasn't his particular problem. Carrie was. "What do you think about her?" he asked casually.

  Jeffie looked confused for a moment. "You mean Carrie? She's pretty neat, considering. I mean, she's like all grown-ups. Wants to take care of you, when you're old enough to take care of yourself."

  "I noticed," Gabriel said dryly, thinking of her heavy-handed attempts to get him safely settled in Angel Falls.

  "But she's still pretty cool. She'll do anything for anybody, no matter what it costs her, she's always willing to help out, and besides, she's the best cook I know. She never lectures, and she'll give me a ride anytime I call her, no questions asked. Like I said, she's neat."