From The Ashes

From the Ashes

Sharon Mignerey

In memory of my mother, Thelma Anis Black

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Acknowledgments

My deepest gratitude goes to the Clinton family—Willie Jr., Sajuana and Shanelle who so generously shared their experiences with sight loss, especially their wonderful stories about Willie’s guide dogs Jada (his current dog) and Elton (who is now retired). I also need to thank Russ Burcham, M.D., who patiently answered my questions concerning glaucoma and sight loss—if there are mistakes in the book, they are mine and are no reflection on him.

A special thank-you to my proofreader, Danielle, whose sharp eyes and attention to detail are invaluable.

ONE

For we walk by faith, not by sight.

—II Corinthians, 5:7

“Hey, doll face.”

It was a nickname—and a voice—Angela London had never wanted to hear again. She searched the crowd for the man who had betrayed her. There he was leaning against the wall near a drinking fountain, looking as though he belonged—which he didn’t. Looking as though he could be one of the businessmen leaving the monthly luncheon for the chamber of commerce—which he wasn’t. Any business he had would be on the shady side of the law.

Tommy Manderoll was dead last on any list of people she wanted to see. Smiling as though he were welcome, he started toward her.

“Angela,” a woman said, coming to a stop next to her. “Thanks so much for your talk. The work you’re doing is so needed. Wonderful, really.” She patted Polly, wearing her service-dog-in-training vest and sitting at Angela’s feet, then pressed a check into her hand. “You’re making such a difference with Guardian Paws.”

“I hope so.” She glanced down at the check, the donation beyond generous. “Thank you. You’re sure you wouldn’t rather put this in the prepaid envelope that was in your packet?”

She shook her head. “I’m giving that to my boss.” The woman squeezed her arm and moved away.

“You are the woman of the hour,” Tommy said, coming to a stop in front of her, adjusting his tie in a gesture of preening that was second nature to him. “The outfit almost goes with the dog.”

There wasn’t a single thing wrong with the taupe, tailored, below-the-knee skirt and knit twinset she was wearing, but she still took the statement as an insult. This was the new Angela London, the one who didn’t like men like Tommy Manderoll and who didn’t wear the flashy clothes that attracted them.

She was prevented from answering when a deep voice inquired, “Miss London?”

The vaguely familiar-looking man who approached her was tall, with broad shoulders and a chiseled face that would have been perfect in a razor commercial. He offered his hand. She automatically took it and had the fleeting thought that his smile was meant only for her as his broad palm enveloped her smaller hand.

“Being here today was an answer to a prayer,” he said. “But you probably hear that all the time. I’m Brian Ramsey.”

“Nice to meet you.” The name, like his face, was familiar, though she couldn’t have said from where. Probably thirtysomething, though his eyes seemed older somehow. The niggle that she should know him, or at least know of him, didn’t go away as she took in his aura of confidence and the superb fit of his sports coat.

“I need a dog.” An indefinable expression chased across his face, and he took a breath before asking, “When would be a good time to call you?”

“That’s something I’d like to know, too,” Tommy interrupted. “Miss London, when would be a good time to call?”

Angela looked from Brian to her ex-boyfriend, the man she had never wanted to see again.

“I’m sorry,” Brian said. “I’ve caught you at a bad time—”

“No.” Angela touched the back of his hand when he would have walked away. She swallowed against the giddy feeling that heated her cheeks when his tawny, golden-brown gaze settled on her face. “Do you have a card so I can call you?”

“Sure.” Shifting his wool top coat to the other arm, he retrieved a slim wallet from his navy sports coat and pulled out a card. “I look forward to hearing from you.” Then, glancing down at Polly, he asked, “What kind of dog is she?”

“Since she was adopted from the pound when she was six months old, it’s hard to know for sure. She’s certainly got some golden retriever in her and probably some shepherd.”

“She looks just about perfect.”

“Thanks. I think she is.” Angela grinned.

As if reluctant to leave, Brian took one step away, then turned back. “You will call, won’t you?”

“By tomorrow morning at the latest,” she promised.

He nodded once, then strode down the hall, keeping her attention on him even as Tommy said, “Brian Ramsey is way out of your league. If you think a pro ballplayer, even a retired loser like him, would give you the time of day, you’re dead wrong.”

Brian Ramsey certainly had the physique of an athlete, but since she didn’t follow sports, she had no idea what team he had played for.

“So you’re into dogs now.” Tommy moved into her line of vision. “I would have never figured that.”

“What do you want?” She finally looked at him, not caring how rude or blunt her question was. When Tommy crowded into her space, she moved back a step.

He clucked his tongue. “Now is that any way to talk to an old friend?”

“You’re no friend,” she said softly, “and I’m not sure you ever were.”

“Don’t tell me you’re holding a grudge.” He drew her toward the edge of the rotunda as a group of people came out of the banquet room. Next to her, Polly stayed right at her side, standing patiently as she had been trained to do.

Angela met his gaze square on, once more putting some space between them and lowering her voice to a murmur. “How would you define turning state’s evidence so you got to walk away scot free while I was sentenced to four years in prison?” Thankfully, she’d had to serve only two, and they had been the longest of her life. The only good thing out of that experience was that she had been chosen to be part of a pilot program to train service dogs who had needed a second chance as much as the female inmates.

“I did what I had to do,” Tommy said, his smile fading.

“So, I repeat, what do you want?”

He glanced around the hallway where people had gathered in groups of two or three and many others were still making their way toward the wide doorway that led to the parking lot. “Let’s go get a drink somewhere.”

Angela shook her head.

“Ah. You’ve got the dog.”

Her gaze fell to Polly. “That. Plus, I don’t drink.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Pull the other leg, doll face. We both know you do.”

“Don’t call me that.” She held up a hand. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He took a step closer to her, bent his head toward hers, and pulled the check the woman had given her a few minutes earlier from her hand. “I don’t know why you’re messing around with pocket change like this when you’ve got a half million dollars stashed away.”

That again. The same rumored money that she had supposedly stolen from a drug kingpin.

At last she understood why he had looked her up. The promise of easy money. If Tommy was good at anything, it was looking after his own best interests to the exclusion of anyone else.

She took back the check and stepped away from him. “There is no money, Tommy. Never was.” The rumor of it, though, had nearly cost her best friend her life. That was one more regret Angela had to live with.

“I don’t believe you.” He shrugged. “I’ve got a sure thing, and you’re just the kind of girl who would want in.”

The statement was a replay of a conversation they’d had a long time ago. Then, a whole lifetime ago, she had been exactly that kind of girl. Girl. She was no longer young or naive in any way at all.

“Sorry, no.”

He ducked his head toward her a little, pasting on the cajoling smile that once had worked on her. “It’ll be like old times—”

Once more, she lowered her voice, but she couldn’t keep the anger from it as she said, “You mean like the old times where you showed me how to party and then supplied the drugs that I sold for you so I could pay for my own habit? You mean like the old times when I’d do anything for you, no matter how stupid?”

“Settle down.” He looked around, then, evidently satisfied he couldn’t be heard, he said, “Look at you. You’re the girl who likes sexy silk and trips to Cabo and European wheels. This isn’t the real you.”

“Actually, it is.”

“I don’t believe that, either.”

“I don’t much care what you believe as long as you do it someplace else. And as for getting involved in any of your ‘sure’ things—you’ve got to be kidding.”

“Then at least stake me the money. You know I’ll pay you back.”

“Stab me in the back is more like it,” she said, his sense of entitlement typical and irritating. “Same answer as before. No. As in no way, never. C’mon, Polly.” She took a single step, then turned back toward him. “Goodbye, Tommy. And I mean that in the most final way possible.”

“You’re gonna regret not taking me up on the offer,” he said, his cocky grin returning, his voice loud enough to carry as though she had just turned him down on a business deal.

In fact, she had.

“And you’ll regret ever bothering me again,” she said, tugging on Polly’s leash and moving away from him. She realized her voice had carried to a couple of the people around them when they turned and looked at her.

He took a threatening step toward her, his hand curling around her elbow to keep her from moving away, his pleasant smile masking his fierce whisper. “That sounded too much like a threat.” His grip tightened. “Remember this, doll face. You went to prison because you had no guts. Don’t be making threats you can’t keep.”

She pulled her arm away, proud of herself that she wasn’t cowering the way she once had. “That was no threat. It was a promise. Stay away from me.”

“A promise for you.” He pressed two fingers against his lips, kissed them, and tossed it toward her. “I’ll be seeing you.”

He walked away from her, as though he didn’t have a care in the world, as though he hadn’t just shaken hers. What she had ever seen in him? A stupid question since she had promised herself more honesty than that. He’d been an easy end to getting the drugs that had consumed her. Had being the operative word.

Her getaway wasn’t as clean as she would have liked. Several people who had attended the luncheon and watched her demonstration with Polly approached her the instant Tommy left. They asked thoughtful questions and a few people, like the first woman, gave her a donation. Through it, she kept noticing Tommy lurking in the background, which kept her thinking about his demand for money.

The kingpin who had been Tommy’s supplier had coerced her into using the business she’d owned with her best friend, Rachel, as a means to launder money. For reasons Angela still didn’t understand, after she’d gone to prison he’d decided she had stolen a half million from him that she’d left with Rachel. Angela’s pastor had encouraged her to forgive herself. She didn’t know how she could. Her own greed had ruined a friendship that still meant everything to her. The price Rachel had paid was unbearable to Angela.

Until today, she had believed that Tommy was behind the rumor. Except he wouldn’t be trying to shake her down for the money if he had been. Right now, Angela knew only two things for sure. She wanted that part of her life behind her and she never wanted to see Tommy again.

She shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d shown up today, she decided. Usually, the events of her day were a reflection of her daily Bible study. This morning’s reading had been from the first book of Proverbs, a warning of what happens to those who throw in with bad company. My child, if sinners try to seduce you, do not go with them. Only, a lifetime ago she had, and, caught in the lure of money and drugs, she had deliberately harmed her best friend. That simple, awful act had come back to her tenfold. Now, she doubted she would ever be able to make things right again. God might have forgiven her sins, but she was a long way from forgiving herself.

She might have paid her debt to society as defined by her prison term and her just-ended year of parole, but she still had debts to repay and would for the rest of her life, the least of them monetary. As always, that thought was nearly overwhelming, which made the idea of her having the money Tommy wanted all the more ludicrous.

One day at a time, she whispered to herself. One minute at a time.

She went outside and immediately wished she had remembered to put on a coat when she had dashed out of the house hours ago. The summerlike temperatures this morning had disappeared into the more typical November day in Denver—blustery with the scent of snow in the air, the cold biting right through her. The walk to the bus stop was going to be cold, as was the walk the rest of the way home on the other end.

A couple of hotel workers, bundled against the cold, were wrapping Christmas lights around the trunks of the trees flanking the entrance.

To her surprise, Brian Ramsey was coming toward the door, smiling—that same warm-down-to-her-toes smile that he had given her before.

“I was hoping I’d catch you before you took off,” Brian said. “I know you said you’d call, but if we could talk today, that would be better.”

Angela shivered as a gust of wind hit them, and Brian immediately noticed she wasn’t wearing a coat.

Her expression had gone from distracted to interested when her gaze lit on him. That at least was something.

“Is your car far?” He shrugged out of his cashmere top coat and settled it over her shoulders. The coat was huge on her, but somehow looked right, too. When she shivered once more, he reached out and closed the top button to keep the coat from slipping off her slim shoulders.

“Actually, we rode the bus today. I was headed for the Park and Ride across the street.” She glanced at him. “I should have known better than to leave home without a coat.”

“The weather can turn on a dime,” he agreed, looking from her to her destination, turning his head to compensate for his lack of peripheral vision. “Across the street” didn’t come close to describing the long walk across the hotel parking lot, up a hill and across another parking lot to the bus stop. There, she still wouldn’t have any protection from the weather except for a glass-enclosed lean-to.

“Look, you don’t know me from Adam,” he said, “but I’d be happy to give you a lift wherever you’d like to go.” This close, he became aware of her fragrance—soft, mysterious. Her soft brown hair had slipped from the clip holding it up, and tendrils curled around her face. When he’d watched her demonstration, he’d thought she was in her early twenties. Now he pegged her age at least ten years older, though nothing about those years made her any less appealing.

“And you’d be able to tell me what’s on your mind,” she allowed, “since you said you needed a dog.”

“That’s right.” He waited while she searched his face without any apparent recognition. Given all the notoriety he’d recently had, finding one person who didn’t know him on sight was a relief. “I’m harmless, I promise.”

She grinned. “So said the spider to the fly.”

He liked her sense of humor. “Probably. But if you’re not going to go with me, I want my coat back. It’s cold.”

Once more her eyes danced, and she patted the dog on the head. “What do you think, Polly? A warm ride or a cold walk?”

The dog wagged its tail, and Angela looked back at him. He heard the quick beep of a horn, and he turned his head, taking in the vehicle he had stopped driving two months ago easing up to the curb. “My car is here,” Brian said, pointing at his Escalade. His driver waved.

“Okay,” she said, stepping off the curb. “I am supposed to know you from somewhere, though, aren’t I?”

He waited until they had reached the vehicle and opened the back door for her before saying, “That depends, I guess, on whether you read the sports pages.”

She gave him another of those considering glances with her expressive brown eyes. “Not usually.”

He opened the back door, and as the dog jumped in, motioned to Sam. “Say hi to Sam Waite.”

“Hey,” Sam said.

“Hi,” Angela responded, taking the arm Brian offered for support as she climbed into the backseat.

He went around the vehicle to sit in the backseat with her, and, realizing his intention, she signaled the dog to climb into the back of the vehicle.

“Where are we off to?” Sam asked after they were settled.

“The lady’s pleasure,” Brian said.

“In that case San Diego. At least it would be warmer there.” She smiled at Sam’s raised eyebrows and cheerful expression, then gave him her address, adding the directions.

The address was far enough out in Denver’s northeast suburbs that Brian doubted it was on any direct bus routes. He wondered if the choice was part of the dog’s training.

After they were underway, he figured she’d ask why he had a driver, but she didn’t. Instead, she said, “That sounded rude. You know, saying I don’t usually read about sports.”

“Not rude.” He didn’t like that he had put his career behind him on something less than his own terms, but he also knew that simply because sports had consumed him from the day he could walk, it wasn’t so for many others. “Truthful.”

“You’re a ball player?”

He nodded, allowing a grin. Ball player left a lot of room.

“Football?” she ventured.

“What makes you say so?” he asked.

“You’re tall, but you don’t have that seven-foot height that seems to go these days with basketball players.” Her gaze left him and strayed to the gray day outside.

“You left off baseball or soccer.”

She shook her head with a good-natured grin. “I’m sticking to my first guess.”

“You’re right. I played football.”

“What team? Or maybe I’m supposed to ask what position.”

“I’m a quarterback. Was a quarterback,” he said.

“Are you completely insulted that I don’t know?”

He shook his head. “Since I didn’t play here in Denver—”

“Where, then?”

“Boston.” He found her watching him as though what he said really did matter. Once he’d been conceited enough to think that it did. “Thankfully, my lousy season last year didn’t rate front-page news here.”

“This is home?”

“Yep. Born and raised. Graduated from George Washington High School. What about you?”

“Transplant,” she said. “I grew up on the Western Slope. Glenwood Springs mostly.” She turned slightly in the seat, his large coat still draped over her shoulders. “Why do you need a dog, Brian Ramsey?”

There it was, the bald question that had only a bald answer to go with it. The words didn’t come as easily as he wanted though he had been laying the groundwork for months now. This was one more step in the journey, and he liked the exchange he’d been having with her. The three words that answered her question would change everything.

“Are you married?” he asked instead of answering her question. Extending these moments before the inevitable. “Involved with anyone?”

“No.” She gave him a challenging look that could have meant he should mind his own business or that she didn’t want to be involved.

“Me, neither.”

“Good to know,” she said, her smile taking the sting out of the words. “What does that have to do with your wanting a dog? We train dogs only for the deaf and the blind as I told you during my speech. Do you want to help a family member?”

He shook his head, studying her, in the middle of another of his daily realizations that everything in this life that he’d taken for granted for so long was precious. Driving. Looking at a pretty girl.

“A friend?” Her eyes really were beautiful. She was close enough that he could see her whole face, even though his field of vision was markedly smaller than it had been a few weeks ago.

“No.”

She frowned, drawing his attention to a freckle at the edge of her lip. “Are you all right?”

He took a breath and nodded. “Fine, today.” Absorbing all he could of her lovely face, he said, “I’m going blind. The dog is for me.”

TWO

Stunned by the news and hoping her expression didn’t reveal that, Angela watched Brian look away from her, then back, his own gaze challenging.

“Now you know why I need a driver.” He gestured toward Sam.

“Yes.” As with every other person she had met who had lost their vision, she knew there was a heartbreaking story here. As a professional athlete in the public eye, Brian would have an extra set of challenges. Not necessarily worse than what others faced. Just different.

His expression was so implacable that she suspected he was waiting for that moment he’d undoubtedly had with others. The outpouring of heartfelt sympathy and the “I’m so sorry.” She was, but telling him so would only make him feel pitied. He didn’t need that, surely didn’t want that.

“The first step is filling out an application, then getting you scheduled for a class—”

“You mean after my sight is totally gone?” He shook his head. “Listen, I know others are ahead of me in that whole process to get a dog. I’ve done my homework, and I know about the two-year training stint. And I know about the preparation and class work that I need to do ahead of time. The thing is, I’m in a unique situation here—”

“Privileged?” She hadn’t intended to interrupt, but the idea that he might think he could circumvent the system simply because he had money made her suddenly, unreasonably annoyed. With that, she became aware of the vehicle’s leather interior and the latest in gadgets on the dashboard. With his wealth, why was he seeking her help?

“Fortunately, yes,” he said simply. “But that’s not what I mean. To me, having this warning that I’m losing my vision is like training camp. You’ve got a set of things you need to do to get ready for the season—get in shape, learn the new playbook, do the work to build a team out of a bunch of individuals. What I’m going through is the same thing.” His expression lightened. “A Braille playbook isn’t going to be easy to learn.”

Surprised at his ready agreement to being privileged and intrigued by his comparison to training season, Angela saw the passion in him that had undoubtedly driven him to become an athlete good enough to be a professional.

“Exactly what do you want from Guardian Paws?” she asked, her annoyance diffused by his explanation.

“To participate in picking out and training my guide dog.”

Like his statement about going blind, this one was equally forthright, as though he had given the idea a lot of thought.

“Why Guardian Paws?” she asked. “There are other organizations, more experienced trainers—”

“Who could help me?”

His gaze searched her face, making her wonder just how much of his sight was left and what was causing his loss of vision. Diabetes? Macular degeneration? Glaucoma? Some irreversible injury?

“First, you’re local, so it seems reasonable that the logistics would be easier. Second, because your organization is small, I’m hoping you’ll be able—willing—to take a chance on this.”