The Trouble With Angels Page 0,89

her. Joy, isn't it?"

Catherine nodded.

"You know what he said? He said that it didn't matter, that I was the woman he was going to marry. You know the crazy part - he's actually excited about the baby."

That didn't surprise Catherine. Ted was a wonderful uncle. Many times she'd watched him with his cousins and marveled at his patience with small children.

"This baby may not have been planned," Catherine said evenly, "but that doesn't mean he or she isn't loved or welcome. Emma wasn't planned, either. I didn't intend to get pregnant on our honeymoon, but these things happen."

Blythe lowered her gaze. "I think you should know something. In the beginning, I didn't want this baby. When I first learned I was pregnant, I seriously considered an abortion. It was so tempting, an easy way out, but when I went to make the appointment, I couldn't do it. I just couldn't make myself do it."

Catherine was forever grateful that Blythe hadn't resorted to anything so drastic. "But you didn't, and that's the important thing. That took courage, Blythe."

"Not really." She briefly covered her face with her hands. "I can't believe I did anything so stupid as to get pregnant. I know better than to let something like this happen. My stupidity isn't the baby's fault."

Catherine wished she could say or do something to ease Blythe's discomfort. Blythe was restless and seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"I'm really sorry, but I can't accept your beautiful pin," Blythe said finally, and set the box back on the end table.

Catherine winced at the sharp edge of her words. "If you won't accept it for yourself, then take it for the child. Someday when he is older you can tell the child about his great-grandfather who died in the Second World War, and perhaps you could put in a kind word about me."

"Ah." Blythe shook her head from side to side in a wild motion. "No, I'm afraid I can't do that, either."

"Blythe, my dear, what is it?"

"He's in love with Joy."

"Yes, I know, but Ted's committed to you."

"You don't understand."

"What is it?" Catherine asked softly. "Tell me." Gently she took the younger woman in her arms. Blythe buried her face in her shoulder and broke into huge sobs.

"Whatever it is will take care of itself," Catherine whispered soothingly. "Now, now, it can't be so bad."

"But it is," Blythe insisted, rubbing the moisture from her face. "I can't take the cameo. I can't give it to this baby."

"Of course you can."

"No," she cried with such strength, she startled Catherine. "I can't." She stiffened as if she expected to be struck or attacked. "Ted isn't the baby's father. He's married, you see, and he doesn't want anything to do with me."

Paul drove directly from the campground to the hospital. On the two-hour drive back into the city, he tried to compose his thoughts, decide what he could possibly say that would help the Bartelli family deal with Madge's impending death.

Paul knew Bernard and the Bartelli children were emotionally prepared. As emotionally prepared as one could expect.

By the time Barbara had reached the point of death, Paul was of two minds. He'd wanted more than anything that her suffering end. Yet at the same time, he'd mentally clung to her, unwilling and unable to release her from life. He hadn't thought he could go on without her. In retrospect, his fears had been well founded.

Paul had forever changed the day Barbara died. He'd nursed the pain of that wound for so long, he didn't remember what it was like to feel anything other than a pressing sadness.

He didn't want the Bartelli family to make the same mistakes he had, so he mulled over what he could say, what he might do, that would make a difference.

As he reviewed his own response to death, Paul recognized how angry he'd been. Still was. For two long years he'd submerged the anger, unaware of what it was doing to him. Only recently, when he'd stood in the middle of the church and screamed out at the unfairness of death, had he touched upon his fury. Only when he'd cried out in frustration and from a deep well of pain had Paul become aware of how outrage had subtly impacted both his life and his ministry.

He'd tried to deal with his anger intellectually, reason it out. He'd tried to convince himself that as a man of the cloth he wasn't like everyone else. Why he should feel exempt