Angels Everywhere - Debbie Macomber [197]
“I’m afraid Hannah’s right,” her mother concurred. “We were thinking June.”
“June,” Edith repeated. “June would be perfect.”
Cousin Hariette brought out a new calendar and flipped through the pages until she located the month.
“I don’t think Carl and I are in any rush,” Hannah offered, but it seemed no one was listening to her. Both her own mother and Carl’s crowded around, peering over Hariette’s shoulder, scanning the June page on the pocket calendar.
“The sixteenth sounds perfectly lovely.”
“The closer to the middle of the month the better, from what I hear,” another aunt offered.
“I don’t think we need to choose a date right now, do you?” Hannah tried once more.
Her grandma Morganstern studied her closely, and Hannah realized she’d best not say anything more. Not then, at least.
“What do you think of June sixteenth?” The question was directed to Carl, who had his fork poised in front of his mouth.
“Give the young man a chance to eat,” her father said, coming to Carl’s rescue.
With his mouth full of food, Carl nodded enthusiastically. Hannah felt he was silently commenting on what her father had said. Unfortunately everyone else in the room seemed to think he was agreeing to the wedding date.
“That settles that,” Ruth said cheerfully. “The wedding is set for June sixteenth.”
The news of Modesto Diaz’s injury spread quickly, and soon a number of Brynn’s students had gathered at the hospital. Again and again Emilio was forced to repeat the grisly details of what had happened—first to the police who came to question him, then to the curious and the fearful.
Father Grady arrived, and Brynn was grateful. She felt at a loss as to how to help Modesto’s mother and sister deal with the tragedy. After what seemed a lifetime, the surgeon appeared. His look was grave as he announced that the surgery had been a success. Modesto wasn’t completely out of danger, and his condition was guarded. But the teen was doing as well as could be expected.
Following a translation of the physician’s words, Modesto’s mother clenched her hands together, turned her face toward heaven, and wept loudly. His sister cried silently with relief. For the first time since he’d appeared at her apartment door, some color started to return to Emilio’s face.
Roberto looked to Brynn and she to him. His relief was evident. Hers, too, she guessed, as she battled down the urge to weep.
While they’d sat through those interminable hours, Roberto had remained beside his brother, offering Emilio his support and love. The younger Alcantara had needed his brother.
Brynn, however, had found sitting impossible, so she’d done what she always did when she was nervous: she’d paced. Back and forth, until she’d feared her path would leave permanent creases in the thin carpet.
Now she felt the need to be close to Roberto. He apparently shared her sudden desire, because he crossed the area. Without a word, he took her into his arms and held her firmly against him. She drank in his strength, absorbed his calm. His hold was tight, almost punishing, as if he planned on never letting her go.
Brynn knew that the two of them had attracted the attention of the others, but she didn’t care who saw them together. Gradually Roberto did release her, but not before she felt his muscles tighten. His relief turned to anger as he faced Father Grady.
“It’s this neighborhood,” Roberto said between clenched teeth. “It could have been Emilio who was shot, or you, or Brynn.” His face was tight and fierce. His brother was all the family he had left.
“I know, I know,” Father Grady said gently.
Roberto stalked to the far side of the room, his back to Brynn.
She wasn’t entirely certain what was happening. Now wasn’t the time for explanations, but she knew Father Grady would explain everything to her later.
“I’ll take you home now,” Roberto announced starkly to Brynn.
She followed him through the crowded hospital corridor outside. The cold night air hit her like an unexpected slap. The wind