Angel Falls (Angel Falls Series, #1), Babette Jongh [books for 6 year olds to read themselves .TXT] 📗

and I remembered I’d tossed them on the dryer the day before. “That was Amy’s preschool. Ben was supposed to pick her up. He’s AWOL, and Amy’s hysterical.”

“What about Herb and Lois? Can’t they—”

“Apparently they’re both at a doctor’s appointment for Lois, and I’m next on Amy’s emergency contact list.”

Minutes later, I parked in front of the preschool, left Lizzie in the passenger seat with the car running, and rushed into the office. Amy catapulted into my arms and buried her hot, tear-streaked face into my neck. “Nobody...” She gulped, sobbed, started over. “Nobody... came... to get... m-m-me.”

“Oh, my darling girl, I’m here.” I hugged Amy and forced my roiling thoughts down into a deep place, so she wouldn’t feel my anger at Ben and think it was directed at her.

I would fucking kill Ben the second I saw him.

I would kill the goddamned bastard.

How could he forget this precious child? “I’m here, baby girl. I’m here.”

Amy hiccupped. Her breath came in hitching sobs. I hugged her close and patted her back, willing her heart rate to slow down, willing mine to do the same. “Should we go to McDonald’s for lunch?”

I exchanged looks with the preschool director over Amy’s head. This isn’t the first time, the woman’s eyes said. I tried to forgive Ben, or at least put him out of my mind. “Amy, does McDonald’s sound good to you?”

She nodded against my neck and said “umm-hmm,” in a whimpering, trying-to-stop-crying voice.

I buckled her into the car seat Lois had said I could keep, noticing that Amy’s hair—and her teeth—probably hadn’t been brushed in days. My irritation at Ben simmered, a slow rolling boil I kept from erupting into outright anger. We went through the drive-thru of McDonald’s, and had a picnic at the park.

Amy ate most of her food, and Lizzie dutifully finished the rest. When Amy ran off to play, I left a curt message on Ben’s cell. “I’m at the park, babysitting the daughter you forgot about.”

While I had my phone out, I checked for any texts or messages from Ian, but there weren’t any. Had I given him my cell number, or did he only have the numbers to my home and the studio? I tried to remember if he’d—

“Aunt Casey, Look at me!”

“I see you, sweetheart,” I yelled. Tucking the phone into my purse, I gave her my complete attention. “I see you.”

I watched Amy go down the slide, and my sadness for Ben deepened while my anger at him grew. How could he? How could he forget for even a moment that this child waited for him? What in the world was he doing?

I watched Amy slide down again, smiling and waving. A hand touched my shoulder and I looked up to see Ben standing beside me. I realized then that Amy had been waving at Ben, not at me.

“Casey, I’m so sorry.”

“Tell that to your daughter,” I snapped. “She probably thought you were dead, too.” I lowered my voice as Amy ran toward us. “How could you do that to her when she needs you so much?”

Amy grabbed Ben around the legs, and he rested a hand on her tangled hair for a moment before lifting her up. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated, only this time he was saying it to his daughter.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Back at home, I slammed the front door with enough force to break the heavy leaded glass. It didn’t break, but it scared the hell out of my neighbor. Angela leapt out into the entryway our duplex apartments shared, her brown eyes alarmed. Even her frizzy red hair looked alarmed. “Oh, Casey! It’s you. I wasn’t sure what was going on.”

“I’m sorry, Angela.” I opened the door to my half of the house. Lizzie, poor dog, scooted inside to avoid any further slamming that might occur. “I’m in a horrible mood.”

“Me, too.” Angela stepped back and opened her apartment door a little wider. “Come on in. I’ll make hot tea, and we’ll be in a horrible mood together.”

“I can’t stay long. Ballet classes start in an hour.” Would Ben remember to bring Amy or Maryann to class? I doubted it. I followed Angela into her place—almost an exact mirror of mine—and moved a rocketship-looking-thing made of Legos from a kitchen chair so I could sit. “How’s Ray doing in school?”

“Loves his new teachers, thanks for asking. How’s everything with you?” Angela put the kettle on the stove and turned the burner on.

“Ben is being an idiot. I guess he’s entitled, but when he drops the ball, someone else has to pick it up. I feel so sorry for those kids. They’ve lost their mother, and their father is emotionally absent. Lois is trying, but...” I shook my head. “They need more than that.”

Angela got out mugs and put in sugar and milk while the water heated. “It’s so sad.”

I twisted a lock of hair around my finger, absently searching for split ends. “So what’s got you in a mood?”

Angela leaned against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “Carl wants to give Ray a hunting rifle for Christmas.”

“Ray’s only ten years old!”

“Well, he’s eleven, a year younger than Jake, remember? But I agree with your sentiment.” Angela stirred milk and sugar in the bottom of the cups. “Ray is way too young to be going out into the woods at the butt-crack of dawn to shoot Bambi’s mother.”

“The whole practice of hunting should be outlawed until somebody figures a way for the animals to shoot back.”

Angela didn’t comment. She knew my views on hunting. She shared them, but couldn’t express herself freely without pissing off her husband or his family. She wasn’t from around here—meaning she wasn’t born here—and living in Angel Falls for the last fifteen years wasn’t enough to qualify for permanent citizenship. “English Breakfast, or Earl Gray?”

“Earl, please.”

Angela dropped a tea bag into each cup and poured boiling water over them. I accepted the warm mug she handed me, and we sat