Progressive Properties is aggressively taking over where small neighborhoods once flourished. Now Angelique's Shelter, St. Gabriel's, is under attack. Who shows up at her door to deliver the news? John McDougal, now a prominent property attorney, an...
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After Angelique was satisfied that Rebecca was truly asleep, she went to the front door, locked the deadbolt, and removed the key. She had already placed the chain lock on the door, but this was more for Rebecca's protection than her own. Giving up the bath as a lost cause, she drained the now tepid water and went back to the kitchen to fix her tea. As she sipped the warm liquid, the chamomile calmed her nerves.
'Should she get Saint?' she wondered, but after a cursory glance at the wall clock in her kitchen, she decided against the idea. It was late and Mrs. Dolton had planned to keep him until morning, as she often did when Angelique worked the night shift at the shelter.
No, she'd let him stay. She believed it did him good; actually, it seemed to do them both good. Of course, all that might have to change if she lost the shelter... she would be home a lot more often. Saint will miss his visits.
"Well, no need to be selfish," she admonished herself. Saint could stay withthe woman from time to time. Lucky Saint, she pondered. He had two homes to go to, but some aren't that lucky.She thought of the children at the shelter. Where will they go?
"Damn it, John!" she swore, just thinking about it. It's not fair. These kids need her. They became her family. She knew she had to protect them.
Angelique wrapped her fingers around her mug, soaking in its warmth. If only she could hate him. It would make all of this somehow bearable. Her father had asked her if she still loved him. Angelique laughed quietly. The sound caught in her throat and sounded hollow to her ears.
'Still love him.' She couldn't think back to a time when she didn't love him. He had been her savior, her crusader against injustice while learning her way. She was not like everyone else. She felt things, knew things. What she knew had no foundation, but in her heart, she knew it to be absolute truth. Her peers were ruthless. Labeling her a freak, a psycho, but not John, never John. He looked out for her and would come to blows with anyone who dared insult her while in his presence.
But it still did not change that they were right. She was odd, strange but she could not help being who she was, no more than they could and she wouldn't wish her "gifts", if they could be called that, on anyone.
It hurts to know how other people feel all the time, as most people hold their hurt and disappointment close to them. It drives her mad when she catches glimpses of a future she can't be certain is real. She can see people in trouble but did not know who they are or if they even exist. Even if they did, she would still be powerless to stop the events she saw taking place.
Like the day John's father died, Angelique sat down at her kitchen table and closed her eyes, recalling the memory. She had been at the shelter as usual and she remembered feeling a cool chill run over her. She shuddered and thought it odd. It was nearly autumn, but not nearly cold enough to cause a chill. Angelique glanced at the clock. She knew the time would hold some importance, although she did not know the reason.
