Quiet Angel (9 page)

He took a deep breath then coughed a few times, nearly choking on a whiff of rotten eggs, the pungent odor from a nearby paper mill. The kids didn’t flinch at all—their little bodies long ago acclimated to the one drawback in an otherwise magical city. Gage survived the odor then noticed the Olde Pink House across the street, a grand antebellum mansion and popular destination for Savannah ghost hunters. He thought to point it out to the kids but decided against it. The kids lived in Savannah, so they probably already knew about it. And if they didn’t, they were probably too hot to care.

They turned the corner and came upon an old building with original wood and windows, full of natural light. Story Wings fit perfectly in the Historic District. He smiled to himself. It was obviously the kind of place Layla would love. “I need you all to behave yourselves,” he said. “We won’t be too long. Uncle G just has a little business to take care of.” The kids shrugged in response.

They walked up a few steps and headed inside, the smell of books and bread and coffee hitting them right away. And Gage smelled something else, too – a distinct twinge of lavender. His heart jumped. She was close by. He looked down at the kids, wiggling around, poking and pinching each other. “Guys, please. . . .”

Gage stopped when his eyes landed on Layla, stepping out from between two bookshelves. She looked as good as ever, even better than in the airport. She looked how he remembered her on St. Simons Island, wearing a floral sundress. She put a book in the shelf then turned to face her new customers. She appeared as stunned as he was. He struggled for something to say, a reason to be in her store after so many years. No other woman got him so tongue-tied.

“Kids,” he said, pushing them slightly forward, “this is Miss Layla.”

Layla held her breath and walked towards them, smiling nervously. She had no idea what he was doing here. Maybe he was just curious about her shop, or maybe he’d come to demand answers. “Hi,” she said.

“This is Ava,” Gage said, “my niece.”

Ava smirked up at her uncle. As the oldest, she was on to him. She could tell what the man’s “business” was at Story Wings.

“These are my nephews, Connor and Jacob.”

“I hate books,” Jacob told Layla then dropped his head back to his phone.

Gage gave Jacob a menacing look and lightly smacked him on the head. “He’s dyslexic,” Gage said, “but that doesn’t mean he can be rude.”

“It’s OK,” Layla said. “Books aren’t for everyone. Jacob, what do you like? Do you want to be a pilot like your uncle?”

“No, I’m too dumb,” Jacob said.

Gage sighed. “You are not.”

“Yeah, he is,” Ava said, “but not because he can’t read.”

Jacob slapped his sister on the shoulder, and Connor started to cry. Gage looked over at Layla, his eyes apologizing for the horror he’d unleashed on her store. Layla shook her head that he had nothing to worry about then draped an arm around Jacob. The boy’s cheeks flushed. At 12, any attention from a female—no matter how old—was a cause for total embarrassment.

“Jacob,” she said, “I’ve got this huge Lego castle I need to put together for my front window display, but I can’t seem to get it started. Could you help?” Jacob looked at his uncle for permission, and Gage nodded. Layla pointed Jacob to an enormous box, and the boy tore it open, starting to build without any directions.

“Ava likes to read,” Gage told Layla, “but only on her e-reader.”

“I have an e-reader. I like it, too,” Layla said. “How old are you, Ava?”

“14.”

“I thought so,” Layla said, remembering seeing a photo of Ava as a toddler at the beach house. “Can I show you something that’s good about books that you can’t find on an e-reader?” Layla opened a glass case behind the counter and pulled out a hardback copy of a current tween bestseller that was soon to be a movie. She opened the cover of the book and showed Ava the inside jacket signed by the entire cast. “Does your e-reader have
this
?”

Ava jumped up and down. “OMG! Did you meet them? Were they here? They actually touched this book?” She ran her fingers across the jacket as if to transfer the actors’ karma to herself.

Layla giggled. “Yeah, I met them all at a book signing.”

“Uncle G, you have to buy this for me!” Ava begged.

Gage gave Layla a sideways smile. “How much is this going to cost me?”

“Nothing,” Layla said and handed the book to Ava, who hustled to a chair to call her friends about this amazing discovery.

“I’ll pay for that,” Gage said.

“Not necessary. Consider it payback for helping with the flight,” she said, offering a smile, a dimple popping out.

Gage felt his body drawn to hers. He always had a soft spot for her cute dimples. He reached for her hand and stroked her knuckles, remembering how nervous he was to hold her hand the first time. But now it felt natural—even after so many years.

“Uncle G,” Connor said, pulling on Gage, forcing him to release her hand. “Tell her I’m five.”

“He’s five.”

Layla bent down to Connor. “I’m 28. Do you like books?”

“I like books about airplanes,” Connor said. “Uncle G, tell her about Petey!”

“We talked about this, buddy. No imaginary friend talk.”

“He’s not imaginary! He’s close by,” Connor said, “and he’s going to bite you.”

“He bites?” Layla wondered.

“Yeah, he’s a crocodile and walks on two legs.” Connor pouted his lip. “You can’t see him, either?”

Layla took his little hand. “The thing is, only special children get to have friends like Petey. Adults can’t see them, but I believe he’s there.”

Connor’s face lit up. “He likes you.”

“I like him,” she said, feeling Gage’s intense stare upon her. The man seemed different than the carefree boy in swim trunks, flying gliders, singing Shaggy on acoustic guitar. He was more serious, focused now. Perhaps that comes with running a huge national business.
Or did I long ago ruin who he was?
“Does Petey need a snack?”

“No, he just ate a sea turtle,” Connor said. “Did you ever have a special friend? My sister and brother didn’t, and they call me a baby.”

“Well, that’s not nice. I did have a friend like Petey when I was little. Her name was Aria, and she was an angel.”

Gage tilted his head, his blue eyes soft, his heart warming.
She never told me about Aria. Maybe she didn’t tell me a lot of things.

“Wow!” Connor said. “Do you still see Aria?”

“Not in a long time,” Layla said quietly.

“What does she look like?” the little boy asked, stepping closer to Layla as if they were members of a secret society.

“She was beautiful. She had blonde hair, and she glowed. Her wings were the purest white.”

Connor hopped up and down. “Show her your wings, Uncle G!”

Gage picked up the boy. “You know I only wear my wings when I fly, buddy.”

“Not those wings,” the boy said and reached towards his uncle’s shirt.

Gage nudged the boy’s hand. “Active imagination.”

“I like an active imagination,” Layla said. “Connor, let’s go check out some books.”

Gage released a deep breath, happy to have a moment alone. As a pilot and businessman, he was always steady and secure, always one step ahead. But Layla had him in a tailspin, and he couldn’t seem to maneuver out of it.

“Would you like some coffee?” a perky voice asked from behind.

Gage turned to find a purple-haired woman holding a coffee mug in the cafe. “No, but thanks anyway,” he said, taking in her bright hair and face.

“I’m Poppy. I own the store with Layla.” She smiled and poured herself a cup. “I’m guessing you’re Gage.”

He strolled up towards her. “How did you. . . .”

“Layla told me you two ran into each other. I assumed that was you with the kids over there.”

“Those aren’t
my
kids.”

“I assumed that, too. I knew you’d show up sooner or later.”

“I’m not here. . . .”

Poppy smacked his hand and leaned forward on the counter. “Stop lying to yourself. We both know why you’re here. It’s not for children’s books. And why wouldn’t you want her? She’s beautiful, smart, talented.”

“Sounds like
you
want her.”

“I don’t swing both ways. I prefer penis.”

“Um, OK,” Gage said nervously.

“She’s not seeing anyone, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know,” he replied, though that
was
good to know. Then he shook his head, knowing it didn’t matter. There was no way he could ever be with Layla again. He couldn’t trust her, no matter how much he might want her, the battle between his head and heart raging on.

“How do you run a whole airline?” Poppy asked. “I mean, you’re so young! You’re probably the youngest CEO in the whole world!”

“I don’t think that’s true. I’m not
that
young anyway.”

Poppy pulled a mug from behind the counter. “The more I think about it, you do need a cup of coffee.”

“I’m not a coffee drinker.”

“That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. Coffee is a total non-negotiable. Got to have it. Like condoms and toilet paper. Can’t live without it.”

Gage bust out laughing. This purple-haired woman was as crazy as Dash. He looked away to find Layla and Connor coming his way. His nephew was holding a package of some kind. “What you got there, little man?”

Connor flew over to his uncle and leaped in his arms. “Look what Miss Layla made for me!”

“That’s cool, buddy,” Gage said, thumbing through a stack of airplane books tied together in an old-fashioned leather book strap. Connor hopped down and buzzed the books around like they were a 747. Gage looked over at Layla, emotions crashing over him again. It was time to go.
I’ll walk away this time
. He yelled for Ava and Jacob. “We should probably get going,” he told Layla.

“Sure,” she said, a touch of sadness in her voice.

The kids gathered around and thanked Layla for helping them. Then Ava winked at her uncle and ushered her siblings out of the store, all the kids skipping together.

“Take care, Ang. . . .” Gage smiled. “Layla.”

I’m not his angel anymore.
“You, too,” she said softly then thought to ask him to stay, but stopped before uttering a word. It wouldn’t make a difference. Too much time had passed. And she’d caused too much pain.

“Gage, it was nice to meet you,” Poppy said. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you.”

*

Gage got to
his sister’s house and blew out a deep breath. The morning had been more stressful than any board meeting or union negotiation. Emerson greeted them at the door, her dark brown hair pulled in a ponytail, her black rim glasses atop her head. She looked at her baby brother’s frazzled face and let a smile slip, impressed he returned the kids safe and sound, and most of all, happy.

Connor zoomed off with the book bundle, but Emerson grabbed it before he got away. “This is adorable,” she said, putting her glasses on. “Who did this?”

“Just this little bookstore we happened across,” Gage answered.

“This would be perfect for maternity gifts for employees.”

“The flowers we send are fine, Emerson.” His sister ran the marketing and public relations for Southern Wings, and her brain didn’t have an “off” switch. She could be exhausting and—10 years older than Gage—very bossy.

“What was the name of the store? I’m going to call and see if they’d be interested.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Story Wings,” Ava said. “Uncle G was totally crushing on the owner.”

Emerson lifted her eyebrows. “Oh, really?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Gage said.

“She liked Petey,” Connor said.

“And she let me build this cool Lego castle,” Jacob said.

“Sounds like a nice place,” Emerson said. “Now, you kids go and get ready. Your dad will be here in a few minutes.”

When the kids disappeared, Gage turned to his sister. “How’d the meeting go?”

Emerson shrugged. “How are divorces supposed to go? He doesn’t want to talk except through lawyers. I think it’s better now that he moved out. It was so tense before, and we kept trying to hide it from the kids. He’d wait for them to go to bed every night. Then he’d go and sleep in his office. He’d get up early so they didn’t know.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Gage offered. He always liked his brother-in-law. He wasn’t sure what the hell happened.

“No, I’m the one who screwed up.”

“
You
?”

Emerson nodded. “It will be fine. We will be fine. So tell me about this bookstore girl.”

“Please don’t try to make this into something it’s not.”

“A crush, huh? Mom will be thrilled.”

Gage stayed the
weekend in Savannah then flew back to Atlanta. It was good to be home. He figured the distance from Layla would do him some good. He didn’t like that Ava was on to him. And he didn’t like Emerson needling him about a “crush.” It wasn’t true, and he wasn’t a teenager anymore. He was the head of a national airline, and with his charm and good looks, he could get any woman he wanted.

But that wasn’t really his style—at least not since college, when he nailed anything that moved. When he wasn’t training at five hundred miles per hour, sex was another adrenaline rush, another thrill. It seemed the natural thing to do. But it got less thrilling over time, and in quiet moments, he knew there was something sad in what he was doing—screwing lots of women to get Layla off his mind. It wasn’t entirely fair to them, though they never complained.