Chapter Twenty-eight

Lina looked at herself in the mirror and she wanted to scream. Her hair looked awful. She glanced at the dress her mother had bought for her; it lay on her unmade bed, a glorious, sophisticated swath of midnight-blue velvet.

Longing tightened her chest. It didn’t matter if she wore that beautiful dress—she was never going to fit in. All those snobby cheerleader types were going to laugh themselves silly when hell-raising Lina Hillyard walked through those gymnasium doors in a strapless dress. She could practically hear their snickers now. Get a load of Owen’s date. What grave did he dig her out of?

She wouldn’t go. Couldn’t go.

A knock rattled her door. “Come in,” Lina said, turning around.

Her mom stood in the doorway, carrying a big wicker basket. She was wearing a pair of black wool pants that made her look about four inches across the hips and a fuzzy emerald sweater that highlighted her silvery-green eyes. Not a hair was out of place, and her makeup was flawless. She looked so beautiful that Lina wanted to throw up.

Mom gave her a tentative, fleeting smile. “I thought maybe I could help you do your hair.”

Instinctively Lina bristled. She heard the subtle censure in her mother’s voice, and she almost lashed out. Then she looked at her mom—really looked at her—and saw that there was no disapproval in her face, just an honest willingness to help out. And maybe a little fear that Lina would throw a fit and say no.

“Lina?” she said, moving forward, easing the door shut behind her. “Are you okay?”

At the question, so quietly spoken and full of concern, Lina almost crumpled. “I don’t know, Mom. I was thinking of bagging the whole thing. Who cares about a stupid school dance anyway?”

Her mom set the basket down on the dresser and pulled up a chair. “I remember when I was almost your age—just a few months younger—I read about the local homecoming dance in the newspaper.” A smile tugged at her mouth. “I wanted to go, but of course, it was out of the question. My father wouldn’t have considered it—and I had no one to take me, anyway.”

Lina stared at her mother in shock. She sounded so … human—not Miss Perfect and In-Control Cardiologist at all. Lina pushed the hem of the dress aside and sat down on the bed. “Keep going.”

Mom flashed her a conspiratorial smile. “I told my father I needed to go to the UW medical library to research a paper for my tutor. He dropped me off and I waited at the window for him to leave. When I was sure he’d gone, I sneaked out of the library and walked sixteen blocks in the pouring rain to Ridgecrest High School.”

Lina leaned forward. “What was it like?”

Mom sighed wistfully. “It was … magical. They’d taken the most ordinary things—glitter, tissue paper, foil—and turned that huge gymnasium into a snowy castle, like the one in Dr. Zhivago. The theme was Nights in White Satin” She laughed, apparently surprised that she remembered something so insignificant. “Anyway, I huddled at the doorway like a church mouse, watching all those Cinderellas dancing.” Her smile faded and her voice dropped to a whisper. “That’s when I realized how lonely I really was, how different from the other girls. My mom would have let me go—or at least, I like to believe she would have.”

Lina was beginning to see her mother as a young girl, frightened and alone in that big house on the hill. She remembered the bars she’d seen on her mother’s old bedroom window, and her words, See? You don’t have the worst parent in the world. All at once she felt … connected to her mother. As if they had something in common after all, as if her mom could truly understand her. “But maybe you wouldn’t have fit in—no one knew you. They might have made fun of you.”

“Yes,” Mom said, gazing steadily at Lina. “There are always times in life when you don’t fit in. But you have to go forward and make a place for yourself. That’s what growing up is all about. Being strong and believing in yourself—even when you’re most afraid.”

Lina bit her lip. “Zach’s friends won’t like me. I have a … bad reputation, and he’s so squeaky clean.”

Mom looked as if she really understood. “I wish I could give you a magic pill that would make it all okay, but I think I’ve screwed up with you in always pretending that life was easy. Sometimes it’s hard and unfair, and sometimes people are cruel and selfish.” She reached out, took Lina’s hand in hers. “But I know this: You’re a bright, beautiful girl and you have a wonderful young man who wants to spend an evening dancing with you. If you don’t go because you’re afraid, then you’ll be heading down a long, lonely road. Believe me, I know how fear can get ahold of you, and once it gets inside, it ruins everything. Don’t let that happen to you, baby.”

Lina knew her mother was right. She had never let fear run her life before, and this was no time to start. She gave her mother a quick, darting smile. “Could you make me pretty again?”

Madelaine grinned. “Oh, baby, that’s the easy part.”

The doorbell rang at exactly 7:45. Madelaine jumped at the sound and dropped the teakettle on the burner. It hit with a clang and slid sideways, sloshing water across the black steel surface. She laughed at her own nervousness and wiped her hands on a dishrag. Reaching for her camera, she hurried to the door and wrenched it open, expecting to see Zachary in his rented tuxedo.

But it was Angel who stood on her porch. He was wearing a pair of baggy blue mechanic’s coveralls that were zipped all the way to his throat.

She smiled at him. “Come to fix my bathroom pipes, have you?”

The grin he gave her was so sexy, it took her breath away. He whipped a huge bouquet of pink roses from behind his back.

She bit back a sudden smile. “For me?”

He shook his head. “You’re not the only lady in my life, you know.”

Madelaine loved him more in that moment than she would have thought possible. Smiling, she backed up to let him come inside.

He set the flowers on the table. “Is she ready?”

Madelaine saw the nervousness in his eyes as he glanced toward Lina’s bedroom, and she had to stifle a smile. “Almost. Are you?”

He looked startled by the question, as if he thought he’d hidden his anxiety. Then he caught her gaze and he smiled. “I don’t think so, Mad. Are you sure she’s old enough to date?”

“I was her age when I met you, and we—”

“Don’t remind me of that.” He tried to smile again, but it looked weak and a little sick. He spun away from the table and paced the room. He kept glancing at Lina’s room, then at the front door, and with each look, his lips tightened.

She sat on the sofa and patted the cushion beside her. “Come here.”

He strode over and slumped to a sit beside her. Easing an arm around her shoulders, he drew her close. “Christ, I’m as nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof. I don’t know about this fatherhood crap. I don’t think I’ll be any good at it.”

She leaned against him, reveling in the comfort of his body, the feel of his arm around her. “Welcome to parenting. It’s not a job, it’s an adventure.”

The fire in the fireplace crackled in the silence that fell between them. She snuggled closer. She still felt fluttery and nervous about the dance, but something about having Angel here with her, sharing her anxiety, made it all seem manageable, maybe even a little fun. “I guess this is how all parents feel when their daughter goes to her first school dance.”

He turned to her then, and his face was serious. “This dad shit scares me.”

She touched his face, gazing up at him. “It scares you because it’s forever and you’re a never kind of guy.” Even as she said the words, and heard the truth in them, she felt the sadness spreading through her. “But you’re doing a great job, really.”

Before Angel could answer, the doorbell rang again.

Instinctively they snapped apart like a couple of teenagers getting caught by their parents. Then they looked at each other and burst out laughing.

With a sigh, Angel got to his feet and went to the door, ushering Zach inside.

“Zachary Owen,” Angel said, studying the boy with narrowed, disapproving eyes.

“H-Hello again, Mr. DeMarco.”

Angel didn’t smile. He turned to Madelaine. “Give me that camera. I want to take a picture of him—for identification purposes.”

“I-I-I—”

“Angel!” Madelaine said on a burst of laughter, rising to her feet.

Angel laughed uneasily and slapped Zach on the back. “Just a little parent humor.”

Zach deflated and coughed up a wan smile. “Oh.”

“You’ll have her home by midnight?” Angel said sharply.

Zach nodded and showed them his watch. “I will.”

“You have batteries in that? If not—” Angel started to take the Rolex watch off his wrist.

Madelaine grabbed Angel’s arm, squeezing so hard, he made a little sound. “Don’t worry, Zach,” she said, flashing Angel a pointed look. “We trust you.”

Angel turned to her, and there wasn’t one iota of trust on his face. His thick black eyebrows were drawn forbiddingly together and his lips were pressed into a thin line. When he opened his mouth to speak, she shook her head firmly.

His gaze cut to Zach, then back to Madelaine. “I’ll go get Lina,” he said.

Madelaine almost laughed out loud at the sullenness in his voice. “You do that.”

Angel snagged the bouquet of roses and strolled down the hallway toward Lina’s room. To his credit, he didn’t look back once.

Madelaine smiled at Zach. “He’s just learning how to be a father.”

Zach pulled uncomfortably at his collar. “He’s doing a good job.”

Silence fell between them after that. Madelaine surreptitiously studied the young man. He looked rail-thin and awkwardly tall in his rented navy-blue tuxedo, his sandy hair a fresh-cut path across his brow. His cheeks looked like they’d been scrubbed with low-grade sandpaper.

Before she could ask how school was going, she heard Lina’s door open and she glanced down the hallway in time to see her step from her bedroom.

Madelaine’s breath caught. Lina stood in the hall, facing her father. The strapless blue velvet clung to her body in waves that looked electric blue in some places and black in others. Her jet-black hair was pulled back from her forehead and held in place by a glittery silver headband that matched her shoes and handbag.

She looked so grown-up. Madelaine felt a rush of emotion—regret, fear, pride. She realized suddenly that her little girl would be a woman soon, and then she’d be gone, and the realization brought a needling sting of tears to her eyes.

She dashed the tears away and stared at Lina and Angel, watching breathlessly as Angel gave his daughter the dozen roses. Even from this distance, Madelaine could see the tears that sprang to Lina’s eyes.

Oh, God, Madelaine thought. She wanted to tuck this moment in her heart like a treasured photograph. When she was old and gray, she’d bring it out, stroke it, remembering …

Instinctively she turned to look for Francis.

But he wasn’t there.

Wiping the moisture from her eyes, she glanced up at the ceiling, trying to imagine the stars sparkling in the black heavens beyond. I hope you’re seeing this, Francis … her first dance.…

Lina came around the corner and stood beside the fireplace.

Zach gasped at the sight of her. “Oh, my God.”

Lina paled. Her hands flew to her hair, smoothing it back. “Is something wrong?”

“You look great,” Zach said, grinning from ear to ear.

A smile swept across Lina’s face, lighting her eyes until they looked like blue flames dancing between her thick black lashes. Pink tinged her cheeks. “Thanks.”

Zach surged toward her, thrusting out a small plastic box. “It’s a wrist corsage. The florist said they were the best kind.”

“Jeez,” Lina sighed, staring down at the delicate white blossom. “It’s beautiful.” She slipped the elasticized band on her wrist and lifted it for them all to see.

“Okay, guys,” Madelaine said, reaching for her camera. “Get in front of the Christmas tree. I want to take some pictures.”

Lina rolled her eyes. “Aw, Mom …”

Madelaine made a sweeping gesture with her hand, laughing. “Come on.”

Lina and Zach came awkwardly together. He slipped his arm around her tiny waist, and she held the wrist corsage up for the photo. Behind them, the Christmas tree sparkled in a hundred multicolored lights.

Grinning, Madelaine snapped a few quick shots. “Okay, one with your dad now.”

Zach faded to the left, and Angel took his place. He curled an arm around Lina and drew her close, smiling for the camera.

Madelaine saw them through the viewfinder and frowned, easing the camera from her face. “Don’t give me that poster-boy smile, Angel. I want to see her father, not some Hollywood hotshot.”

Angel looked nonplussed for a second, then a slow, admiring grin spread across his face. “God, she’s a demanding woman,” he said to no one in particular.

“Cardiologist,” was Lina’s laughing reply. “They’re all like that.”

Madelaine laughed, clicking away. God, how she loved this moment, this feeling. It was the antithesis of every memory of her childhood, the coming together of every dream she’d ever had.

She wondered how long it would last this time, how long a person could be allowed this happiness in life.

She wanted to go to him then, slip her arms around him and know that he would always be there, standing in her living room as if he belonged, smiling down at her with that recklessness in his green eyes.

“Mrs. Hillyard,” Zach said, interrupting her thoughts. “Let me get a picture of the whole family.”

Whole family.

God, she wanted it so badly, she hurt.

She relinquished the camera and hurried to the fireplace. She saw the three stockings hung from the evergreen-laden mantel and couldn’t help smiling. She slipped into place beside Angel and felt his hand settle possessively on her hip.

It felt so incredibly right to be standing here, the three of them, linked by so much more than the arms that bound them together. If only it could last She knew the smile she gave the camera was sad and more than a little wistful.

“Smile, Dr. Hillyard,” Zach ordered.

She forced her melancholy away and focused on the joy of the moment. At the tiny click of the camera and the blinding flash, Madelaine knew they’d captured the moment forever.

And she told herself that it was enough for now.

The high school sat on a big corner lot, its brick sides lit here and there by spotlights implanted in the winter-brown grass. A huge dark sign identified it as the home of the Panthers. When she saw it, Lina’s nervousness jumped up a notch, her mouth went dry.

Zach maneuvered the car into the student lot and parked it. He rushed around to her side of the car and opened her door. She stepped out into the cool night air, clasping her hands together to keep them from shaking.

All around, kids were getting out of cars and congregating in giggling, chattering groups. The boys slapped each other’s hands in high-fives, and the girls oohed and aahed over each other’s dresses.

Lina recognized a dozen faces as she and Zach came up to a crowd of kids. There was a moment of stunned surprise as everyone turned to gape at her. But it was one face that held her attention, one pair of eyes she couldn’t look away from.

Cara Milston stood in the center of the crowd. She was staring at Lina.

Zach slipped an arm around her and squeezed gently. “You all know Lina?”

Slowly Cara let go of her jock boyfriend’s hand and moved toward Lina in a cloud of glittery white satin. “Killer dress, Lina.” Her voice was quiet, a little uncertain. Lina hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath until it came whooshing out of her in a sigh. A tentative smile crooked one corner of her mouth. All at once she remembered a million things about her and Cara—times they’d shared lunch on the playground and spent the night at each other’s house. She realized with a sudden ferocity that she wanted that again. “Thanks.” She tried to think of what to say to Cara, but nothing came.

Cara smiled. “I missed you, Lina.”

Lina realized then how simple it was. All she had to do was say what was in her heart and it was a beginning. “I’ve missed you, too, Cara.” She smiled.

After that, the night took on a magical, larger-than-life quality. The sky looked bigger and darker, a velvet drapery beaded with stars. Fallen leaves lay scattered across the road up to the school, catching on the girls’ high-heeled shoes and sticking to their shimmering hose.

They all went, talking and laughing, into the gymnasium. Lina was the only girl in the crowd who hadn’t volunteered on the decorating committee, and when she saw what they’d done, she stopped dead. “God, it looks great.”

Gauze hung draped in rippling folds against the vanilla-bland walls. White butcher paper was taped to the basketball court floor, its surface littered with gold and silver glitter. A huge Christmas tree dominated the room, its branches full of white lights and tinfoil stars. In the corner, a winter-wonderland photographer’s backdrop memorialized each couple’s night. The band hammered out raucous music on an octagonal stage at one end of the gym.

Cara sidled up to her. “We could use some help on decorating for the spring Sadie Hawkins dance.”

Lina felt unsure of herself. “I-I don’t have much talent.”

Cara laughed, a high, clear sound like the tinkling of silver bells. “Can you use masking tape?”

Lina immediately felt like a fool. A hot blush spread up her cheeks and angry words popped onto her tongue. She bit them back when she realized that Cara wasn’t making fun of her—she was inviting Lina in. And Lina—idiot that she was—was standing there with her mouth hanging open. “I can use masking tape.”

Before Cara could respond, Zach took hold of Lina’s hand and dragged her onto the dance floor. A hackneyed version of a Hootie and the Blowfish song was pulsing from the huge speakers in the corner.

Lina couldn’t help laughing as he twirled her into the crowd and started dancing.

It was the beginning of the best night of her life.

Madelaine paced back and forth across the living room, picking up knickknacks and moving them from table to table, studying the manufacturer’s marks on her china candy dishes as if she’d never seen them before. Each and every Christmas decoration held her avid attention. For the fifteenth time in as many minutes, she looked at the mantel clock. The Christmas tree sparkled in the corner.

“Thirty minutes,” she said, more to herself than to Angel. “They should be dancing by now.”

Angel turned away from the window, where he’d been standing motionless and silent for the same thirty minutes. “Okay, enough is enough.”

Madelaine stopped and looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“She’s at the dance, she’s having a great time. She hasn’t been kidnapped by terrorists. I’m going to try and forget my negative fantasy—which is, by the way, that she gets in a car with that red-faced kid and keeps on going, stopping only long enough to get pregnant and rob a liquor store.”

Madelaine laughed, and it felt good to make light of it all. “You’re right. We have to relax.”

He whipped the living room curtains shut and turned around, giving her a smoldering smile. “Now I have you all to myself.”

She felt a shiver of anticipation. “So you do.”

“Good, let’s talk.”

She knew she looked ridiculously disappointed, but she couldn’t help it. “We’re alone for once, and you want to talk?”

He grabbed her hand and led her to the sofa. They sat down side by side, and he turned to her. “You said earlier that I was a never kind of guy.”

Her heart seemed to stall for a second, then pick up speed. She tried to make light of it. “Forget it, I didn’t mean—”

“What did you mean?”

There was no laughter in his eyes, just an intensity that stole her breath. She knew it mattered to him, what she said, and she didn’t know what was the right thing. She wanted to blurt out that she was afraid—afraid of so many things, loving him, not loving him, everything. “I meant that I know you, Angel. I understand the kind of man you are.” She gazed up at him, trying to smile. “I’m not sixteen anymore, and you can’t break my heart like you did before. We can just … be … this time. No promises, no guarantees. It’s enough for me.”

He looked at her sadly. “It’s not enough for me, Mad.”

“What do you mean?”

His gaze left her face, traveled around the room as if he were searching for something. After what seemed like hours, he took hold of her hand and held it to his chest. She felt the fluttering rhythm of his heart beneath the heavy cotton fabric of his coveralls. “I want so much for us, Mad. I want to be here for you, with you, forever. I want to bounce our children and our grandchildren on my knee. I want to go to bed with you every night and wake up with you every morning for the rest of my life … but I don’t know how long that will be.”

The words sank deep inside her, twisted around her heart and brought tears to her eyes. “No one ever knows those things, Angel.”

“I missed so much of Lina’s life …” He looked away again. “I wish I could have those years back. I threw them away so easily.… I’ll never do that again. I love you, Madelaine Hillyard. And I know I’ve said that before, but you’re just going to have to give me a second chance.”

It was all there in the words he was offering, in the look in his eyes, everything she’d ever wanted. The love, the family, the commitment—everything. She wanted him, beside her on this couch and in her bed for as long as forever could be.

She wanted to answer, but the words tangled in the thickness in her throat and wouldn’t come out. And then he was holding her, kissing her so passionately, the world began to spin. She clung to him, loving him so much that the emotion was a sharp pain in her chest.

He pulled slightly away. His breathing was ragged and shallow as he rested his lips against her cheek. “Say it, Mad, say it before I rip the house apart.”

She drew back, laughing. It would always be this way with him, she realized. He would always be able to rattle her senses and confuse her, and he would always demand things in that arrogant, selfish way of his, as if the world owed him everything. And he would always be the one person in the world she wanted to sit on this sofa with. “I love you, Angel DeMarco. And if you take that lightly again, I’ll—”

He covered her mouth with his, whispering, “Never.”

He kissed her until she was breathless. Then, with a suddenness that should have surprised her, but didn’t, he lurched to his feet and dragged her into the center of the living room.

“Stand there,” he ordered.

She protested and he ignored her. Instead, he went around and flicked off all the lights, until the room was completely dark except for the glowing red of the firelight and the sparkling gold and white of the Christmas tree. “Close your eyes.”

She couldn’t help laughing. “It’s a little pointless, don’t you think? The room is dark.”

“Doctors,” he said with mock disgust. “Just close your eyes.”

Grinning, she complied. “I’m getting the feeling you’re not used to dating career women.”

She heard him chuckle. “Most of my women had the IQ of field mice. Now, keep your eyes closed.”

“And the bodies of Playboy bunnies,” Madelaine muttered under her breath.

She stood there, eyes closed, arms crossed, trying to figure out what he was doing. She heard the front door open, then close. She listened and knew he was no longer in the house. She thought about peeking and decided it would be no fun.

In the distance she heard a car door open and close; a few seconds later, her front door shut again. He dragged something—a chair—across the hardwood floor. Wood creaked and groaned, and she thought he was climbing onto the chair. Then he pushed it back across the floor.

“Okay now, don’t look,” he said again, and she heard him walking toward her.

She felt him come up close, so close she could smell the musky tang of his aftershave and feel the moist heat of his breath on her forehead. He started to unbutton her sweater.

She kept her eyes shut by sheer force of will. He didn’t say anything, didn’t touch her anywhere except on the sweater, unpopping each button. Then he peeled the sweater off, his palms dragging sensually across her bare shoulders.

Cool air swept across her flesh, sent goose bumps scurrying down her arms.

She heard his bones creak as he knelt in front of her. He unhooked her leather belt and let it dangle, then he unbuttoned the waistband and slowly, slowly, lowered the zipper. She felt his fingertips brushing against her belly.

Her pants fell to the floor. His hands formed to her thighs, branding her with their heat, then moved up, up her legs, dipped in at her waist, and kept moving up toward her breasts. At the last second his touch moved to her back and he unhooked her bra, let it fall to the floor with the pants.

She tried to imagine herself as he saw her now, standing there in the middle of her living room, lit only by the soft gold of firelight, wearing nothing but white underwear and black knee socks. It was amazingly erotic, fantasizing about how she looked, about how he saw her.

She waited breathlessly for him to touch her. Her skin seemed to tighten in anticipation, her heartbeat sped up. But he didn’t touch her; instead, he slipped something silky and slippery over her head. She knew it was a gown—maybe a nightgown—that hugged her every curve and fell all the way to the floor. The silk felt whispery and delicious against her bare skin.

He moved away from her, and she felt a flutter of frustration. “Angel,” she said, wanting him back, aching for his touch.

There was an electronic click, and music came on. The slow, romantic voice of Dan Fogelberg drifted through the room. “Longer.” She recognized the song instantly, and she smiled at the sheer romance of it.

“Open your eyes,” Angel said, and she realized that he was right in front of her. Smiling, she opened her eyes.

He was wearing a gorgeous black tuxedo—and he looked stunningly handsome. He’d dressed her in an elegant black silk sheath dress that was so sexy and daring, she’d never have bought it for herself. She started to reach for him, to throw her arms around him and kiss him, then she noticed everything else he’d done and her breath caught in her throat.

There was a huge, mirrored ball hanging from the chandelier above the dining room table. Each little square of glass caught the candlelight and threw beads of light across the walls, the ceiling, the floor.

He’d created a high school prom in her living room.

“Oh, my,” was all she could think of to say. It was such a wild and crazy and romantic thing to do—so totally Angel.

He reached his hand out, and in his palm lay a black velvet box. “Open it,” he said softly.

She looked up at him. Slowly, her hands shaking, she reached for the box and snapped it open. A brilliant diamond blinked up at her. “Oh, Angel …”

He eased the ring from the box and fit it onto her finger. “Marry me, Madelaine.”

She stared down at the ring, laughing and crying at the same time. It was an absurdly big diamond—conspicuous and dazzling and flashy—just like the man who’d bought it. She knew suddenly that her life would be different with Angel, more different than she could imagine. He would never do things the way other men did—he was like a flame, hot and dancing and capable of great destruction. But she knew—God, she’d known since she was sixteen years old—that there was no one else for her. “It’s so big … You shouldn’t have … Oh, Angel …”

He grinned. “I’m from Hollywood—the land of big jewelry. I want the world to know you’re mine.” He moved closer, and his smile faded. He looked at her with a seriousness that made her heart feel achingly full. “You are mine, aren’t you, Mad?”

“Always.”

His grin came back, brighter than the diamond. “Good. Now, dance with me, Mrs. DeMarco.”

The laughter rose through her and spilled out in a light, airy sound of pure joy. “Why, Mr. DeMarco, I thought you’d never ask.”