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

across from each other, stirring our tea bags round in the milky, sugary elixir. I despised sugar in iced tea, but loved hot tea prepared the English way.

“You know...” Angela looked up briefly from her stirring then looked down again.

“What?” I took out my tea bag with a spoon and used the string to squeeze out the last few drops.

“I know how you could take care of Melody’s kids.”

The look on Angela’s face made my scalp prickle. “What do you mean?”

“If you and Ben got together.”

My guilty conscience pounced, landed in my stomach, tried to claw up my throat. “Angela. I...” I had no idea what to say, so I just stopped talking.

“I’m not the only one who thinks it’s the perfect solution. I saw Melody’s mom, Lois, the other day at Caroline’s Big Hair Salon, and she said you and Ben used to date in high school. Even she—”

“Ben made his choice,” I interrupted. “It wasn’t me.” Astonished that the whole town was apparently planning my life for me, I pushed my chair away from the table. “I have to get ready for class.” Even though it was unbelievably rude, I ran out of there and escaped into my apartment.

But wasn’t Angela’s suggestion rude, too? I couldn’t decide. Since the wreck, I lived so much in my own head that interacting with anyone seemed like a convoluted maze of do’s and don’ts.

I went back to my bedroom and dressed for class. Then Lizzie and I walked to the studio, where teaching ballet, at least, was simple. Not easy, but simple.

Amy didn’t make it to ballet, but I hadn’t figured she would. If Ben couldn’t remember to pick her up after school, he was sure to forget ballet. I didn’t expect to see Maryann in class, either, but she stormed in when we were working on developpes at the barre. Stifling sobs, she slammed her ballet bag against Lizzie’s ottoman, and stood with her back turned to her friends.

I hurried to give her the hug I knew she needed.

She swiped at her tears with first one hand, then the other. “My daddy is so stupid!”

“Aww, baby, no.” I patted her shoulder. “He’s doing his best.”

“Well, his best is horrible. Look what he did to my hair.”

I smoothed back the tangled mess that had been inexpertly scraped back into an off-center ponytail. “It’s not so bad.”

“I tried to put it in a bun, but Mama always did it for me, and I couldn’t get it right. The pins kept sliding out and the bun kept falling down. I asked him to help, but he doesn’t even know how to make a stupid ponytail!”

“I’ll do it for you. No problem.”

The music ended, and another track started. The girls at the barre stood waiting for instruction. “Do y’all remember the combination for frappes?” I took the hairbrush off the stereo cabinet and brushed Maryann’s thick dark hair, a shimmering mahogany fall that reached the center of her back.

“No, Ma’am,” a few of the girls responded. Others leaned against the barre and started whispered conversations.

“Okay.” I switched the music to a long, slow track. “Go ahead and do some stretches at the barre.”

“Can I come live with you?” Maryann asked in a small, trembling voice.

“Sweetheart,” I whispered, “how do you think that would make your daddy feel?”

“He wouldn’t care. We stay at Grandma’s half the time, and when we’re home, he doesn’t pay any attention to us. All he ever does is work on the computer, talk on the phone, and sit in the den like a big fat slug.”

Damn. Maybe Ben wasn’t up to taking care of his kids after all. Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed him to take them back so soon. “He hasn’t gone back to work yet?”

“He’s working from home now, except when we’re in school. So he can take care of us, he says. But he totally forgot about ballet, and I had to remind him. Amy’s probably still crying because she didn’t get to come. She didn’t know she’d missed her class until I started getting ready for mine.”

I wrapped a covered band around her hair and started twisting the ponytail into a tight bun. “Would you like me to talk to him?” As if that would help any more than it had before.

Maryann shrugged and wiped her cheeks. “I dunno.”

“How about you plan to come to class a little early from now on,” I suggested, “and I’ll do your hair until your daddy can learn how.”

“What if he’s too stupid to learn?” Maryann wasn’t quite ready to abandon her anger.

“You don’t think I’m a good enough teacher to show a dumb old man how to make a ponytail?” I started poking in hairpins.

“Maybe you are.” A tiny, unwilling smile turned up one corner of Maryann’s mouth. I could see it in the mirror, could feel the tension seeping out of her as I pushed the last pins into her bun. “And you know; you’re old enough to put your hair in a bun all by yourself. There are a few tricks to it, but I’ll teach you.”

“Okay.”

“Shall we dance?” I turned her toward her classmates.

“Yes,” she answered, her confidence bolstered for the moment. She walked to the barre, and I chose music to combine plies with low developpes. Then I led the class in a combination designed to help Maryann get warmed-up before we moved on to Grand Battements.

Lois picked up Maryann after ballet, but Ben called me not too long after I got home. “I hear my daughter is coming to live with you.”

“I didn’t tell her that.”

“I know.” Ben sighed. I could envision him running his fingers through his hair as he often did when something wasn’t going right. “I’m calling from work. I had to go back in to catch up on some things, so the kids are having dinner with Lois and Herb. Can I stop by your place on my way home? I really need to talk to... to someone.” His voice