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As I rev the engine on my bike, I guess I will just have to hope I have got a little bit of luck left in me to spend tonight. Getting out of here alive is going to take a miracle.
Then I hear something. I cut the engine and listen hard. It's the phone in Silas's office.
It's an old-fashioned phone, the kind with a real bell in it. It calls out into the night, and something tells me to answer it.
I've gotta take the chance.
Chapter 81
Silas
There's a knock on the door. Angel shifts against me in her sleep, nestling even closer.
“Why don’t you get the door, Angel?”
“What?” she asks, raising her sleepy head.
Another knock again, softer.
Obediently, she slips between the sheets, pushing herself to the floor and shuffling sleepily to the room door as she rubs her eyes. She pulls the door open as far as the chain will let her, only about four inches.
“It’s Brother Owen!” she exclaims, suddenly awake.
Pushing myself onto my elbows, I watch her as she pulls on the door again, then realizes she has to close it first if she is going to unlatch the chain. When she finally opens the door completely, she jumps into his arms. He catches her in a swift and solid embrace, entering the room and kicking the door closed with his heel. For a few seconds he holds her suspended six inches off the ground, nuzzling her hair with his eyes closed.
I guess she was right. He does need to be here.
“How did you know? How did you find us?”
Owen squints at me in the darkness. “You didn't tell her?”
I just shrug. “I thought the surprise would be more fun,” I smirk.
“He called me, little Angel. On the telephone,” Owen explains. I'm a little peeved that he gave away my secret, but I'm pretty happy to see him too.
Flicking on the light next to the bed, I yawn and push myself up all the way to sitting. That was maybe an hour of sleep, but it was fantastic. I slept without any of the bad dreams that I usually have. My muscles feel good. Heavy. I remember waking up halfway a couple of times, feeling Angel’s head on my chest and sinking right back into pleasant dreams.
“So are we good?”
“We’re good,” he nods, pushing his boots off one at a time.
He arranges them neatly next to the dresser, still holding Angel across his body. He comes around the side of the bed and deposits her gently in the middle, then stretches out, full-length on the opposite side. He groans like he's being crushed by a weight. I know exactly how that feels.
Angel reaches out, lifting his hand and closing hers within it. He automatically curls his fingers over the back of her wrist, almost completely surrounding her small bones. It's a sweet gesture.
“So what did you tell her? Is Mary going to be able to do it? Will she take care of it?”
“Actually… there has been a change of plans.”
“Owen, not again! Do you think you can just do what I tell you —”
“— it's gotta be Melissa, Silas. It had to be her.”
“Mama?” Angel asks, a note of concern in her voice. He bounces her hand in his meaty paw.
“Don't worry about it, Angel,” he reassures her. “It's all right. Your mom is everybody's Mother Melissa now.”
“What does that mean?”
