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tected him from further injury this evening. |
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McCall muttered something and shifted in his sleep. D.J. yanked her fingers from his hair and jumped to her feet. He turned on his side and settled back to sleep. |
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"Not bad, hey?" Josie's voice, coming from behind D.J., made her start and turn with a little squeak of alarm. |
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"Quiet," she hissed. "He's asleep." |
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"He can't hear me, dear. Only you can." |
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The angel wore a long white cotton nightdress, her black hair twisted into a thick braid that hung down her back to her hips. She looked even younger in her nightclothes, more like a child than a woman. |
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"What are you doing here?" D.J. whispered, drawing the angel away from the bed and toward the door. |
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"Of course. But I was right in the middle of putting a cake in the oven. I knew you weren't in danger, so I finished up before I came over." |
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"Cake?" D.J.'s ears perked up. She loved cake. Real homemade cake, from scratch, not the processed, sugar-coated, fake cakes she avoided at the local market. She'd always had a weakness for homemade cakes, ever since Gran had died and her weekly treats had ceased. Cakes just weren't the same if you made them yourselfespecially the ones D.J. had attempted. Her mouth salivated at the thought of the undoubtedly heavenly offering on her kitchen counter. Inhaling, she imagined she |
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