A Forever Christmas

Chapter Fifteen

The people in town were still talking about it the following day, how Forever’s newest citizen had risked her life and saved Diane Lake’s little boy, Jason.

If Angel believed otherwise, those thoughts were quickly dispelled when she walked into the diner with Gabe at eight the next morning. Rather than just drop her off, the way he’d taken to doing on his way to work, Gabe had decided to come in with her for a minute.

The customers seated at the counter and occupying the tables all turned around, almost in unison, and broke into a round of heartfelt, hearty applause.

Stunned, Angel looked around, fully expecting the applause to be meant for someone coming in behind her.

Except that there wasn’t anyone behind her.

Flustered, she turned her head toward Gabe—away from the customers—and lowering her voice asked, “Why are they applauding?”

Gabe grinned, feeling so proud of her he could burst. “Because the only thing the people around here like better than a hero is a heroine,” he said honestly. He saw the color rising in her cheeks and tried to eliminate her growing discomfort. “Hey, you earned this, Angel. You risked your life—and damn near gave me a heart attack,” he added, “getting that boy off the ledge. Now you get to take a bow.”

“You might as well enjoy it, they’re not about to stop,” Miss Joan told her, coming around the counter and putting a protective arm around her. It was one of the few times that Angel could recall the woman smiling, let alone almost beaming at her. Her arm still around her shoulders, Miss Joan looked at the gathering. “Okay, settle down now. You’re embarrassing her,” she told the people in the diner, her eyes sweeping over each of them individually.

The applause died down—all except for one customer. He was sitting on a stool at the far end of the counter and turned around very slowly now to look knowingly in her direction. Tall, with chestnut-brown hair, the same color as his trim moustache, the man looked to be somewhere in his early forties.

No one recognized him.

He went on clapping, his hands meeting lowly, rhythmically.

“I said you’re embarrassing her,” Miss Joan repeated with emphasis as she glared at the stranger. She was not a woman who backed off, especially when met with opposition.

The man smirked at Miss Joan’s statement. “Oh, she doesn’t embarrass easily,” he told Miss Joan, never taking his eyes off Angel. Except that he didn’t call her that. He called her by another name. “Do you, Dorothy?” he asked.

Vacating his stool, the stranger moved like a panther stalking its prey and came over to where Angel was standing.

“Dorothy?” Gabe echoed.

He didn’t like the looks of the man who sounded as if he was so familiar with Angel’s life. Secretly, he’d been dreading something like this and now that it was happening, it was even worse than he’d imagined.

There’d been a small part of him all along that had whispered, Some things are better left alone. And now he had a gut feeling he knew why.

“That’s her name. Dorothy Mandra,” the stranger said, never taking his eyes off Angel. He moved even closer to her. “What’s the matter, Dorothy? Not glad to see me?” he asked.

“She doesn’t know you,” Gabe cut in, coming to Angel’s defense. He’d taken an instant dislike to this intruding stranger. “She has amnesia.”

“Amnesia,” the man repeated in a mocking tone. The smile that curved his lips was humorless and cold. “Pretty convenient.”

“Look, mister—” Gabe began, physically turning the man away from Angel.

He could see that the stranger was crowding Angel. Even if she looked at him blankly as if she didn’t know him, on some subconscious level, she had to have recognized him.

Her breathing had gotten slightly audible and definitely labored.

The man shrugged him off and then produced his ID. “That’s ‘Detective Mister,’” the stranger retorted glibly. Flipping open his wallet, his eyes narrowed slightly as he grew serious. “Detective Jake Wynters,” he said, introducing himself. “With the San Antonio Police Department.”

He added the latter for the sharp-featured older woman’s benefit. She looked as if she could take him apart with her talons if he made any missteps.

Wynters doled his information out one piece at a time. “And Dorothy’s my fiancée,” he informed Gabe and the other customers. “My missing fiancée,” he emphasized. “She went missing around the same time that my fifty-thousand-dollar bank account did.” Smirking at her knowingly, he was all but on top of Angel as he uttered rhetorically, “Didn’t you, Dorothy?”

Gabe felt as if someone had punched him straight in the gut. Still, he pulled Wynters back a second time even as Miss Joan put herself between the threatening detective and Angel.

“We didn’t find any money on her,” Gabe informed the outsider.

Wynters looked at the woman he’d come to bring back with him. “She’s a bright girl. Dorothy would have hidden it somewhere so she could get to it later.”

He was lying about the money, but in his experience, nothing turned people against one another more quickly than the hope of recovering hidden money. He wanted to make sure no one would try to get in his way and stop him from bringing her back with him. If they thought she was a thief, his job would be easier.

Miss Joan looked as unconvinced as Gabe felt. “You know him, honey?” she asked Angel.

She had to, Angel thought. Why else did she have this sudden, overwhelming dread rising up within her? The very sound of his voice made her want to shrink back. And yet, she didn’t recognize him, couldn’t connect him to a single event in her life.

Couldn’t remember ever having seen him.

She had no choice but to shake her head. “No, I don’t know him,” she said quietly.

Wynters snorted. “We had an argument just before she took off. She’s just angry, that’s all,” he insisted, reaching for her.

Angel instinctively pulled back and now it was Gabe who stood between her and the San Antonio detective as Miss Joan protectively ushered her behind the counter and stood by her side. Miss Joan glared at Wynters.

“She says she doesn’t know you,” Gabe informed the stranger. “So maybe you should be getting on your way.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

Some of the other customers had risen from their seats, their stance silently adding weight to Gabe’s words. For his part, the detective seemed totally unaffected.

“I thought she might try to pull something like this,” Wynters said to Gabe as he took a manila envelope out of the inside of his jacket. Slipping out the contents, he held it in his hand. “Got pictures of the two of us, plus one of her in front of the restaurant where she used to work.” He produced the latter, jabbing a finger at the background. “That’s Slice of Heaven,” he said for the benefit of the people who couldn’t make out the restaurant’s sign. And then he looked at Angel. “Bennett said to tell you that business hasn’t been the same since you left. Your old job’s waiting for you if you decide you want to come. To him,” he added, the silent implication was that in that case she had a choice. As far as coming back to him, she only had one choice. To agree.

With equal skepticism and reluctance, Gabe forced himself to look at the photographs.

It was Angel all right.

His heart suddenly felt like lead in his chest.

“Satisfied?” Wynters asked, putting the photographs back into the envelope before returning the latter to his pocket. “Now, if you don’t have any more objections, I’ll be taking Dorothy home with me.”

As the detective, who was a good four inches taller than Gabe, began to make his way around the counter in order to carry out his intent, Gabe grabbed hold of his shoulder and pulled him back for a third time, this time more roughly than before.

“No,” Gabe said firmly.

“No?” the detective echoed incredulously. Any pretense at common courtesy totally evaporated. “Who the hell do you think you are, telling me no?” he demanded.

“Someone who’s not going to let you just take Angel until she’s ready to go.” Gabe all but growled the words out.

Wynters gave him a once-over, a smug look entering his eyes. “What, she’s your girlfriend now?” he taunted. “Her name’s Dorothy,” he insisted. “Not ‘Angel.’ And I’d be careful if I were you,” he warned malevolently. “She’ll play you with those big blue eyes of hers, then, when you’re not looking, she’ll make off with everything you’ve got except for the fillings in your teeth—unless she’s gotten handy with a pair of pliers since she took off.”

He’d had about enough. “Like I said, I think you’d better leave, Detective,” Gabe ordered.

The gloves were off. The expression on the detective’s handsome face turned ugly. “The hell I will!”

The sound of a shotgun loudly being cocked caught everyone’s attention.

The detective and Gabe both turned to look behind them. Eduardo had come out of the kitchen, the shotgun that Miss Joan kept in the back held poised in his hands. It was aimed directly at the stranger.

“You heard the deputy.” Eduardo looked as if he’d welcome an excuse to fire. “Now go!”

“Put the shotgun down, Eduardo,” Gabe ordered gruffly. He wasn’t about to let the older man get into trouble because he’d been pushed too far by the taunting detective.

“I will, Deputy—as soon as this devil leaves Miss Joan’s place,” Eduardo answered. He was still aiming both barrels at Wynters, ready to discharge them at his target.

“He’s leaving now.”

The steely order came from the sheriff. Summoned by one of the customers on their cell phone, he’d come immediately. As he walked into the diner, there was an amiable look on his face, but one that meant business.

“Aren’t you, Detective?” He added the title after glancing at the badge that Wynters was still holding in his hand. The man treated it like a magic talisman that would allow him to have access to everything.

“But I know this woman,” Wynters insisted. “Isn’t that why you sent out that poster with her picture on it? To have someone come and identify her? Well, I’m identifying her!” he concluded angrily, behaving as if he’d expected accolades, not road blocks.

“And we appreciate you coming all the way down to our little town, Detective,” Rick said with barely veiled sarcasm. “But you can also appreciate the fact that I can’t just send her off with someone she clearly doesn’t remember.” As if to back up his statement, Rick looked at the young woman in the center of this tug-of-war. “You don’t remember him, do you?” he asked her, just to be sure.

“No.” To assure herself, she shifted her eyes and glanced defiantly at the detective. “No, I don’t,” she told Rick honestly.

Wynters looked from her to the sheriff, stunned. “So that’s it?” he demanded in disbelief. “You just take her at her word and I’m supposed to leave?”

“Not necessarily,” Rick allowed. “We give Angel time to adjust,” he said, no doubt deliberately using the name they’d given her, not the one that Wynters had used. “We give her time to remember. Until then, she stays here, in Forever.”

Angry now, the detective was obviously trying to curb his temper. Rather than uttering the words that first raced to his lips, he bit them back and instead said, “I’ll get my lawyer.”

“Fine. And we’ll get ours,” Rick replied mildly. “By the way, my wife’s a lawyer. She was formerly with the Norvil and Tyler law firm. You might have heard of them,” Rick said, not above dropping the name of one of the most powerful and prestigious law firms in the western half of the country.

Judging by the look on the detective’s face, he was familiar with the firm.

“Now, unless you have other business here…” he continued, his meaning very clear.

“He doesn’t,” Miss Joan informed the sheriff, making sure that the detective knew he was not about to be served in her establishment no matter what he might try to offer as payment.

“Then I’d suggest you leave your name and number with my office so we can reach you the moment Angel’s memory comes back,” Rick told the man pleasantly. “You’ll find the office just north of here. It’s right on your way out of town,” he emphasized.

Muttering a string of curses audibly under his breath and threatening to return with enough legal power to mow down this “Godforsaken pimple of a nothing town,” the detective stormed out of the diner.

Applause met his departure, adding insult to his gaping wounds.

Only when the diner door closed again did Angel release the breath she’d been holding all this time. Visibly relieved, she forced a smile to her lips.

Gabe looked at her. He could literally feel her fear, even if she tried to pretend she was fine. He remembered her first night in his house. She’d woken up, screaming because of a nightmare. Was this man the reason why? Had she dreamed about him coming after her? Was Wynters who she was running from?

His look was intense as he asked her, “Are you sure you don’t remember him?”

Angel shook her head all the harder, as if in denial she hoped to make Wynters’s very presence vanish from her mind.

“No. No,” she repeated with feeling. “I don’t know him.”

Gabe nodded. He could see that she wanted to be done with this. At least he could do that for her. “Good enough for me,” he told her.

“Angel, why don’t you go home?” Miss Joan suggested, even as some of her customers met that suggestion with groans. They’d put up with a lot, all because they were all waiting for one of her breakfasts. “You’ve had a hell of a morning and maybe you should just—”

“No!” Angel refused with feeling. “I want to be here. I want to be doing something—cooking. It’ll take my mind off that awful man with those flat eyes of his. Please?”

Her last words were all but drowned out by several of the customers, raising their voices to egg her on, enthusiastically backing her decision to stay and cook for them.

Faced with Angel’s stubbornness and her customers growing demands to have Angel whip up her specialties, Miss Joan raised her hands in complete surrender.

“Hey, far be it for me to deny you something that makes you happy,” she declared. “Besides, I think I’d probably have a mass rebellion on my hands if I didn’t let you stay.” She looked at the customers who were all but champing at the bit—threatening to eat that bit at any second if they weren’t fed and fed soon. “Okay, boys, place your orders. She’s staying,” she declared.

A round of cheers met her words.

Touched, Angel smiled and retreated to the kitchen. Eduardo was waiting for her. “Thank you,” she said simply, at a loss for any other words.

In threatening the detective with a shotgun unless he retreated, Eduardo had behaved as if he was her father, bent on protecting her. Something told her that had never happened to her before.

Whether that meant she had no father, or that she had a father who didn’t care enough about her to come to her defense, she didn’t know.

What she did know was that she liked the sensation of having someone watch over her.

Like Gabe, a small voice whispered.

Eduardo waved away her thanks. “I was not going to allow that man to take you away and leave me with all this cooking to do by myself,” he grumbled. “Since you started to work here, I am not so overworked as I was before,” he told her, refusing to give up the game altogether.

“Glad I can help,” she told him, brushing a quick, grateful kiss against his grizzled cheek.

“Are you going to be all right here?” Gabe asked, sticking his head into the kitchen.

She waved away his concern. “I’ll be fine, Gabe,” she said with conviction. “I’ve got Eduardo, Miss Joan and, from the looks of it, a quarter of the town here to protect me.” She grinned reassuringly at Gabe. She didn’t want him to worry about her. “What could go wrong?”

The trouble was, he knew what could go wrong. There were a dozen things that could easily conspire against her. More than a dozen, he amended, glancing back over his shoulder at Angel.

But saying that to her would only make her worry again and the look that passed over her face when she first encountered the detective had slashed at his heart something fierce. He didn’t want her experiencing that again if he could help it.

Gabe forced himself to walk out of the diner. He needed to get back to the sheriff’s office. Specifically, he needed to get to a computer and find out exactly what there was to know about Detective Jake Wynters of the San Antonio Police Department.

He hoped it was a lot—and none of it good.

But either way, he wasn’t about to let the man take Angel away with him, not even if her memory did come back to her.

He couldn’t shake this sinking feeling that sending her off with Wynters would be tantamount to signing her death sentence. Someone had tampered with her brakes that first day she’d arrived and his gut told him it had been Wynters.

There was no way that man was going to come near her again. Not if he had anything to say about it, Gabe silently swore.