Angel in My Arms Read Online Free PDF Page A

surprised by his bitterness as she was by the pain in
his voice. John had painted a verbal portrait of devoted father and
son, telling Celeste that he didn't see Fox often because his son was
so busy traveling the world as a successful businessman. Had it been a
deliberate lie, or perhaps just wishful thinking?
    "How'd you get the stone so quickly?" Fox asked, apparently
recovered from his emotions. He stood with his back to the grave,
studying the whitewashed church with its cupola bell tower.
    "He ordered it before he died." Celeste lifted her cotton skirts and
sank down on one knee to pull a weed from the grave. "He looked at
hundreds in a catalog before he chose just the right one. Had it
shipped from Denver."
    "How morbid."
    "Perhaps to you or to me." She tossed the weed over her shoulder and
reached for another. "But for John it was a way of preparing himself
for the inevitable. He liked to make plans; it made him feel secure."
    Fox turned back to the grave, rolling a small rock with the toe of
his polished shoe. "He shouldn't have had to choose that headstone
alone. I should have been here for him."
    She rose and brushed the gray dust from her sprigged skirt.
    "You should have been here," she agreed, "but he wasn't alone."
    Their gazes met, and once again Celeste felt warm all over. Fox
wasn't angry with her over her mild admonition. John had been right.
His son was special. Fox was the first man in the last eight years to
make her forget her shame, to make her feel pretty. This feeling inside
that he created, allowed her to see hope for her own future where no
hope had been. She didn't know what it was about Fox that made her feel
this way. Maybe it was just the idea that she could spend time with a
man, enjoy his company, and have him enjoy hers without the inevitable
looming over them—sex on a squeaky bed. "Shall we go?" He bowed his arm
out to her, and Celeste accepted.
    As they passed the church and the rectory, Joash Tuttle walked out on the porch. "Evening to you, Celeste."
    "Evening, Joash." She halted, knowing she'd not escape before she
introduced Fox. "I'd like you to meet Mr. MacPhearson, John's son."
    The reverend strode off the porch to greet Fox. In his mid-forties,
Joash was tall and wiry, with a bulging Adam's apple. His head seemed
too large for his body, emphasized by his receding hairline. Behind his
silver wire-frame glasses, his gray eyes were kind.
    "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. MacPhearson." Joash did not shake
Fox's hand, but folded his pale, beefy hands together as if he intended
to pray.
    "Thank you."
    "I'm sorry you couldn't make it before he passed on. Your father was a good man. A friend to us all here in Carrington.
Appreciated
by us all."
    Fox nodded.
    Celeste sensed that Fox was trying to be polite, but that he wanted
nothing more than to escape the graveyard and the reverend's
incriminating gaze. Celeste never paid any mind to Joash. He'd been
trying to save her soul for years, but she could understand how Fox
could find that innocuous, yet accusing gaze unsettling.
    "Mr. MacPhearson hasn't had his supper yet, and I'm sure he's tired from traveling," Celeste said. "We really should be going."
    The screen door shut and Mrs. Tuttle descended the porch steps. She
was a tall woman, as tall as her husband, with broad, sturdy shoulders
and a plain, round, German face. Her graying hair was curled tightly in
corkscrews at her cheeks, often singed from overindulgence with the
metal rod of a curling iron.
    "Miss Kennedy, did you enjoy the cake Mr. Tuttle brought you?"
Despite Mrs. Tuttle's plainness she had a pretty smile. Celeste guessed
that it was that smile that had first attracted Joash to her.
    Celeste smiled back. She knew Mrs. Tuttle disapproved of her, but
the woman always made it a point to be kind. Once when Celeste had been
ill, Mrs. Tuttle had actually come to Kate's Dance Hall and nursed
Celeste through the fever. "It was delicious. Thank you. No one makes
angel food cake like