Christmas Angel Read Free

reaction.
    “I’m going to find her. No matter how long it takes, or how far I have to go. I will find her. I’ve got to. It’s like a part of me is missing.” He blinked. “Does that make a lick of sense?”
     
    Angel had nodded to make him feel better, but the truth was, she had no idea of the scope of such love. Her experience with men was shallow at best. Two weeks later, Sheriff Jake had disappeared, causing a stir among the townsfolk. Preacher, of course, blamed the sins of the brothel for turning his son away from his duties to Deadwater. Not once did he join any of the search parties.
    The mayor swore in Nate within hours of Sheriff Jake’s disappearance. She’d sensed Nate’s interest in her when, as a deputy, he was forced to protect her while a rogue gunslinger held Miss Lillian hostage. She was beholden to him for his attention; his kindness was a welcome respite from the hateful looks and whispered comments of the townspeople. But she didn’t feel about him the way Miss Lillian felt about her rugged lawman, and rather than bruise the former deputy’s ego, she chose instead to avoid him as best she could.
    “Don’t go changing….” Angel sang quietly as she snapped the wrinkles out of the wet sheets before hanging them on the line. Miss Lillian had taught her everyone deserved to be happy. Angel had never associated happiness in relation to her own wants and needs before. Her life was built on pleasing others, yet her friend had shown her that as much as anyone, she deserved to have hopes and dreams. Her wispy blonde hair blew haphazardly, and she turned her face upward, allowing a gust of warm autumn wind to brush back the strands for her.
    She didn’t know much about Miss Lillian’s background, but when she played piano and sang her strange songs, it caused Angel’s heart to take wing. What kind of man could write such lyrics about a woman? Certainly, no man she’d ever met, with the exception of Sheriff Jake. The words made her heart race, sent gooseflesh up her arms. Closing her eyes, she recalled the night she’d asked Miss Lillian about the music.
     
    “Did you make up these words, Miss Lillian?” Angel asked dreamily, resting her arms atop the piano.
    The beautiful, dark-haired Magnolia madam chuckled softly, then took a sip of the Kentucky bourbon the bartender reserved for special occasions. She sucked in a deep breath as the whiskey left its mark. “Don’t I wish.” She swept her fingers lightly over the keys. “The man who sang this song was named Billy. Billy Joel. It’s called ‘Everybody Has a Dream.’” She glanced up and despite her smile, sadness shone in her eyes.
    “Billy,” the name slipped off Angel’s tongue in quiet reverence.
    Miss Lillian rested her hands in her lap, uttered a quiet sigh, and gently closed the lid of the piano. With a soft smile, she touched Angel’s cheek as she rose to leave. “Don’t be up too late. It’s sure to be busy tomorrow. Isn’t it your day to help
    Cook?”
    She nodded. Angel enjoyed the times she spent in the kitchen learning Cook’s recipes. She hugged Miss Lillian, wishing she could find a way to ease whatever had her heart so heavy. It was the last time they’d spoken. The next morning, Miss Lillian was gone without a trace. Her clothes and personal belongings left behind. But the melodies she played clung to Angel’s aching heart, giving comfort and hope in the dark days as they moved ahead.
     
    ***
     
    A few weeks later, Angel sat humming one of the piano tunes, daydreaming of the man who so effortlessly wrote about what it meant to love a woman. His words spoke of a different kind of relationship, a mutual passion of give and take.
    Feelings not normally allowed women and rarely shown by men. Perhaps that was what resonated in her. His music celebrated all it was to be a woman and have a man love you. A warm breeze blew softly over the desert plain, barely lifting the corkscrew curls at the back of her neck.