Entertaining Angels by JUDY DUARTE Read Free Book Online Page B

in the community.”
    If He was punishing anyone, it had to be Kristy.
    Each time she saw Gram lying in that bed, imprisoned in a body that was failing, she was reminded of her negligence.
    If she’d been home the night her grandmother suffered the first and most devastating stroke, instead of at that party at the Rensfields’ estate, she might have called the paramedics and gotten help for Gram sooner. But Kristy hadn’t snuck in until the wee hours of the morning. And her grandmother had spent most of the night on the living room floor.
    The memory was as clear today as it had been when she’d opened the door and found Gram lying on the drab, olive-green carpet, unable to move, unable to speak. The distorted mouth. That cold, glassy stare.
    Oh, God,
she pleaded again.
Make it go away, will you?
    But the scene never faded, the memory never went away. And she’d have to deal with the guilt for the rest of her life.
    Still, she wished Gram would just accept the reality they all had to live with. Didn’t she realize that Kristy was emotionally pedaling as fast as she could?
    She did the best she could to shake off the negativity and the resentment that crept in whenever she let down her guard.
    “You’re too young to have to be burdened by me,” Gram said.
    “Don’t even go there. When my mom ran off, you stepped in. And from that day on, my life changed dramatically. Youhave no idea what it was like, begging for handouts with her at intersections, crying myself to sleep in homeless shelters.”
    “It was the drugs that made your mother that way. I’m sorry that she failed you.”
    So was Kristy, although she couldn’t—no, make that
wouldn’t
—blame drugs for it. And her mom’s abandonment still hurt, if she let it.
    “But
you
didn’t fail me,” she told Gram.
    And that was a fact.
    In her grandmother’s care, Kristy had gotten a room of her own, three home-cooked meals a day and a magical cookie jar that seemed to always stay filled. And even though Gram had been nearly sixty, she’d been a loving guardian who’d jumped right in with parents half her age. There wasn’t a field trip that she hadn’t driven on, a school program she hadn’t attended. A PTA meeting that she’d missed.
    And how had Kristy paid her back?
    By being as wild as her mother had no doubt been. But those days of foolish, teenage rebellion were over. Kristy would take care of her grandmother, just the way Gram had always taken care of her.
    And she wouldn’t complain—ever—although that didn’t mean she liked listening to death wishes.
    She mustered a smile and tried to change the subject. “Hey, I forgot to tell you. Shana Delacourt is going to get married in August. To Brad Rensfield.”
    Gram managed a smile—something Kristy rarely seemed to see these days. “The Delacourts ought to be ecstatic. The Rensfield boy is as rich as old fury and a fine catch.”
    Without thinking, Kristy muttered, “I’m not so sure about that.”
    “What do you mean?”
    Kristy hadn’t meant to broach her thoughts about that with anyone, let alone her grandmother. “I really didn’t mean anything by that comment. It’s just that he’s a bit spoiled. Andhe’s sowed so many wild oats that his folks ought to invest in a granary.”
    “Oh, well. Boys will be boys. Now that he’s grown up, he’s probably gotten that tomfoolery out of his system.”
    Kristy sure hoped so.
    If anyone deserved to be happy, it was Shana.
    Gram shifted in bed, undoubtedly trying to find a comfortable spot, and grimaced.
    Kristy took her frail, liver-spotted hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Do you need to go to the bathroom?”
    “No, not yet.” The old woman blew out another feeble breath. “I wish that you didn’t have to ask, that I didn’t need help. I’m sorry for being so much trouble.”
    Kristy pushed the button that lifted the head of the bed, then helped her grandmother sit up a bit. “I love you. And you’re no trouble.”
    “Oh,