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“What do you mean it’s your fault?” Bridget asked. She walked over to Angel, and kneeled in front of the young girl. Angel was looking away from her, but Bridget could see the emotion in your eyes. “What would be your fault?” she asked, looking Angel up and down. When Angel refused to speak, Bridget reached out and passed her fingers through Angel’s silky soft hair. “You can tell me anything, Angel. I won’t tell anybody else. I won’t even tell Jack if you don’t want me to tell him.”
“You promise?” Angel asked. She finally glanced up at Bridget, with those same, stunning blue eyes that her father and sister had. Her voice was choked, and Bridget could hear the restrain of emotion. She felt bad for such a young girl having to try so hard to compose herself.
“I promise,” Bridget agreed. She stood up, and put a hand on Angel’s shoulder. “Why don’t we go into the living room and sit on the couches?” she offered. “It’ll be a lot more comfy, and we can even watch a movie if you want to. I don’t mind ordering pizza for dinner for us.”
“Daddy always gives me his card to buy pizza,” Angel said. She sniffled loudly, and wiped her eyes on her forearm. The sight of it absolutely broke Bridget’s heart. “You swear that you won’t tell anyone?” she asked again, looking up at Bridget and furrowing her eyebrows.
“I swear, Angel,” she assured. “This is something that stays between me and you. It won’t matter if someone tries to torture me for it, I will keep this information a secret for now and forever.”
At that, Angel broke out of her sour mood. She smiled up at Bridget, and followed the college student into the living room. Angel plopped herself down in the middle of the couch, and Bridget followed suit. She had been expecting the crappy, uncomfortable couch that was in her apartment with Maggie. Her expectations couldn’t have been farther from reality. When Bridget relaxed in the couch, she practically sank into it, as though it were butter and she was a hot knife. Bridget groaned gratefully as the couch sank under her body. It was the most comfortable thing that she had ever experienced. She could only imagine how good the beds were, if this was how good the couch was. Bridget blushed, ashamed that she was thinking such things in front of a nine-year-old girl.
“So why do you think it’s your fault, Angel?” Bridget asked, turning to Angel and raising an eyebrow. Angel was fiddling with the hem of her sweater, and her eyes were focused on her fingers. “Is it about Jack?” Bridget pressed, lowering her tone. She didn’t want to think the worst, and Jack certainly didn’t seem like that type of guy, but there was no way for her to be sure. “Is there something that he’s doing to you that’s bad?”
“No!” Angel blurted, her eyes going wide. “No, no, Daddy would never do that. I have to tell those people all the time that he doesn’t hurt me.” Angel huffed a huge sigh and threw herself back against the couch. “I get asked all the time if he hurts me.”
“I’m sorry,” Bridget muttered. “I wanted to make sure. I know it must get annoying, Angel, but people only want to make sure that the best is happening for you at all times. If someone is hurting you, then an adult needs to know as soon as possible.”
“I know that,” Angel said. She ran her fingers through her hair again and groaned. It was such an adult thing for her to do, and it made Bridget laugh, if only a little. “It’s because I don’t go to school,” Angel finally said. “But I don’t need to go to school. I’m smarter than anyone there anyways. I can take college classes and I do just fine in them,” she explained.
Bridget’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline. She had never expected something like that to come from such a tiny, unassuming young girl. “Wow, you must be really smart,” she complimented.
Angel preened under the attention, but she continued her story. “I have never been to a doctor, but I haven’t ever gotten sick. It’s a lot of little things that build up. A lot of people are afraid that it’s not good for me. I think I’m just fine.” Angel paused, looked down at her sweater, and then looked up at Bridget. “Don’t you think that I’m just fine?” she asked.
“I would say that you’re more than fine,” Bridget agreed with a wide smile. “You’re such a smart girl, and I think that you can do anything in the world that you set your mind to, Angel. You’re going to go very far in life.”
Angel blushed a light pink across her cheeks. “That’s what Daddy says, too. I like when he says things like that to me. They make me feel special.”
“You are special,” Bridget agreed.
After that, the two of them fell into a comfortable silence. It was agreed upon without communication that they liked to enjoy each other’s company, but they didn’t necessarily need to talk to enjoy that company. After a while, Angel reached for the remote and turned on the TV. She flicked through channels that Bridget didn’t even know existed. It had been three hours since Bridget had arrived, and she had yet to see Jack. She pitied a ma that had to work so hard, even while he was at home. She could only imagine that it made his relationship with Angel strain, even just the slightest bit.
At seven thirty, Bridget ordered dinner. True to what Angel said, there was a card left for them on the kitchen counter. Bridget wasn’t certain when it was left there, but when she handed it to the delivery boy, he didn’t even asks her about her name supposedly being Jack Gordon.
At eight thirty, Angel fell asleep on the couch. Despite her tough talk and her attitude, halfway through their movie, her eyelids began to droop. Bridget patted her lap, and Angel gladly stretched out and used her as her pillow for the night. Bridget continued to watch the movie, attention absolutely captured by the beautiful cinematography. It was one that she had never seen before, thanks to having little to no money to spare on things like movie tickets.
When the next movie in the marathon began to play, Bridget didn’t bat an eyelash. She happily would have stayed awake with Angel in her lap, watching movies until the sun rose. She was half certain at that point that it was more likely than not.
Chapter Eight
“Did she fall asleep?” Jack asked.
Bridget jumped, feeling rather like earlier that morning when Maggie had snuck up on her. It had gotten to the point where Bridget had turned off the sound of the movie and resorted to subtitles to keep from waking Angel. Half of the effect was lost, but it was enough to satisfy her and keep her attention just as well as before.
“I almost started to think that you forgot that I was over,” Bridget teased, turning just so to turn and look at Jack. He was far more casually dressed, in a bright t-shirt and jeans. His hair was messily swept back, and there were dark bags under his eyes.
“I couldn’t forget that there was a stranger in my house,” Jack scoffed. He stretched his arms over his head, and then moved in front of the couch.
Jack hesitated for just a moment too long in front of Bridget, and it made her heart race and leap inside of her chest. Jack sent her a quick glance, but then continued on his way. Carefully, and with the experience of someone who had been doing it for nine years, Jack tucked his arms under Angel and hefted her up. Angel hardly noticed, simply rolling over in her sleep to turn and nuzzle against Jack’s broad chest.
With a sleepy Angel in his arms, Jack walked around the couch and towards the left hallway that branched off from the main hallway. After what she had seen going on in that hallway, Bridget could safely assume that it was where both Jack and Angel’s bedrooms were. She wondered if Jack had a specific room to work in, or if he worked in his bedroom. Bridget scoffed at that. In a place as grand as this, there was no way that Jack wouldn’t have a space specifically for his work.
When Jack didn’t return right away, Bridget stood up and rubbed at her eyes. She hadn’t realized until Angel had been moved off of her, but she was absolutely exhausted. Her eyes felt heavy, and she could hardly see in front of her. Bridget grabbed the remote from where she had put it on the table, and flicked the TV off. It shut off in a shutter effect motion, like something on a cheesy presentation builder, but it was charming. Bridget set the remote back down, and made her way into the kitchen. She set the pizzas into the fridge to prevent them from going stale, and then headed into the main hallway.
Just as she had gotten her socks and shoes on, Bridget heard a cough behind her. A simple clearing of Jack’s throat that managed to be calm enough that Bridget didn’t jump out of her skin. She turned to look at Jack, who was staring at her with a single eyebrow raised far higher than its twin.
“Didn’t Angel tell you that I wanted to talk to you?” Jack asked, looking Bridget up and down. It seemed as though the entire Gordon family was deadest on making Bridget feel like a piece of meat in a butcher shop. She was hung up in the glass for their scrutiny, and if she didn’t pass, then she was doomed.
“This late?” Bridget asked, furrowing her eyebrows at Jack. “I’m sorry, Jack, but I’m tired. I’m sure that you’re tired too. Bridget told me that you were working very hard back there.”
