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A Choir of Angels Copyright © 2011 by Marilyn Baron All rights reserved. No part of this story (eBook) may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or book reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidences are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, events, or locals is entirely coincidental. Published by TWB Press Cover Art by Terry Wright Edited by Bobette Ames 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

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A Choir of Angels

By

Marilyn Baron

Still groggy from sleep, I grabbed my glasses off the bedside table and answered my

ringing cell phone. The caller ID said it was my daughter.

“Hayley, honey, what is it? Is something the matter?”

“Mama, I hope I didn’t wake you.”

My cats were chasing each other around the room. I glanced at the clock. Seven A. M.

“That’s all right. The cats are running amuck like they’re possessed. With all that racket,

I would have been awake soon anyway. Isn’t this early for you to be calling? Not that I mind. I

always love hearing from you.”

“I’ve got some news. Are you sitting down?”

“I’m lying in bed. Should I get your dad? He’s not in the room.” My husband, Seth, must

have gone out to get the newspaper. Or maybe he was downstairs making breakfast.

“Let me tell you first,” Hayley said, excitement growing in her voice. “And then you can

tell him.”

“Is this the news I think it is? I’ve been waiting a long time...”

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“You’ve been waiting? What about me? I’ve been waiting for like a gazillion years.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense. Did Jonah finally wake up and realize what a good

thing he had? He’s a little slow on the uptake.”

“Mom, be nice. Jonah may be slow, but he’s going to be your future...son-in-law.”

I screamed, banshee-like, bolting upright in bed. “Oh my God, Hayley, are you serious?”

“Yes. And you’re never going to believe how he proposed.”

“This better be good, after four years...”

“Oh, it’s better than good.”

I heard a distant rumble. “Wait a minute, Hayley, I hear thunder. A storm is coming.

That’s why these cats are so restless. They go crazy whenever they hear thunder. Poor things.”

“I hope it doesn’t rain at my wedding.”

“Rain on your wedding day is good luck,” I said. “Now, tell me everything. Did he give

you a ring?”

“It’s a big one, too, Mama.”

“Okay, maybe that boy has more brains than I gave him credit for.” My eyes burned from

fresh tears. I sniffled.

“Mama, are you crying?”

“Maybe just a bit.” My little girl, my only child, was getting married. Finally. I thought I

was more thrilled than Hayley.

“Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? Now you can start to plan my wedding.”

“Actually, I’ve already hired a wedding planner.”

“Already?”

“I believe in being prepared. And I promise you, I’m going to sing at the big event.”

“Will you help me pick out my wedding dress?”

“Of course, I’d love to.” I felt so giddy and young, I wanted to leap around the bed with

the cats. “I can’t wait to share the news with your...”

A horrendous roar crumbled the walls around me. I ducked instinctively, but the ceiling

knocked me down and a hot wind set my nightgown on fire. I must’ve passed out because

everything went black.

***

“We found some remains. . .”

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Hayley watched Fire Chief Angela Hutchins falter and fidget with her file as she leaned

against the fire truck parked at the curb. The firemen were sifting through the still smoldering

wreckage that used to be her parents’ home. Their new retirement home. The home her mother

and father had lived in for the past two years. It was a beauty, too, a two-story Italianate mansion

in Sullivan Plantation on Lake Lanier north of Atlanta.

The fire chief had probably had this same conversation a million times before, trying to

prepare survivors for the tragic news about their loved ones. One minute Hayley was talking with

her mother, and the next, boom, nothing. She was gone.

No!

Hayley refused to believe that her mother wasn’t coming back. Rhonda Paver was

relentless. She was a bulldog. She never backed down. Many times her father had joked that

even the devil would steer clear of Rhonda Paver, if he knew what was good for him.

“We found some bones in the area where the bedroom was...”

“No! Mama got out,” Hayley insisted, interrupting the Chief and hugging her father

through the scratchy wool blanket someone had wrapped around his shoulders so he would stop

shivering in his flimsy bathrobe. “She’s probably wandering around the neighborhood right now

in her nightgown.” Hayley hoped her mother wouldn’t catch a cold. “Why aren’t your people out

looking for her?”

“How long before these trucks will be gone?” Seth asked evenly, trying to sound like he

was in control of the situation, acting like he was taking everything in stride, and that this was

just any other normal day.

“We’ll be here for a few days,” answered the Fire Chief. “It’s still a hot spot.”

“You’re talking about this like it was some kind of trendy nightclub,” Hayley said. “And

you haven’t told us why the police are not out looking for my mother!”

“Honey, let the Fire Chief do her job,” Seth said calmly.

Hayley clamped down on her teeth. Tears streamed down her face. This was all her fault.

If only she’d been there, if only she’d driven to tell her parents her good news in person, things

might have been different. She might have been able to smell a gas leak. But no, she had to stay

one more night with Jonah before his plane left to go back to Washington. She and Jonah would

have countless nights together...but what if she had been there? She might have been killed, too.

No, not too. There was nothing definitive to prove Rhonda Paver was dead. Hayley

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shivered, grateful her father was alive and sitting beside her.

When she’d lost the phone connection with her mother and couldn’t reach her father on

his cell, Hayley had called one of their neighbors. That’s when she’d learned about the explosion

and fire. They’d heard a blast that rattled their windows, followed by the wail of fire trucks and

police sirens.

Jonah was already in the air by then, or he would have driven here with her. She had

raced out of Atlanta as fast as she could, flying down Highway 400, worried sick about Mama

and her dad. But nothing could have prepared her for what she found when she got here.

Nothing was left. Not a picture, not a pot. Not a pan. Not a dish. Not a towel. Her mother

loved towels. She was going to be furious when she got back and saw all her good things ruined.

She’d have a lot of shopping to do. Maybe she was out shopping already. Maybe she was at a

friend’s house having coffee.

“Daddy, have you called all of Mama’s friends?”

“I don’t have my cell phone. I don’t have anything. Your mother’s purse is missing.

Maybe she drove to get away from the explosion.”

At least Fire Chief Angela Hutchins had the good sense to refrain from bursting her

father’s last bubble of hope by informing him that her mother couldn’t have driven away. Both

cars were barely recognizable hunks of melted metal in what used to be the garage.

“Her driver’s license was in her purse,” her father continued, rubbing his shoulders.

“And she can’t see without her glasses. I hope she was wearing her glasses.”

“As I was saying,” continued Chief Hutchins, in a voice like those inane 911 operators

use to calm down their callers. “In a case like this, the embers can burn for days. We’ll stay on

the scene to make sure the area is safe. Mr. Paver, you’re lucky your house was on such a big

tract of land. If it hadn’t been so far from your neighbors, their homes could have caught fire, as

well.”

Apparently Fire Chief Angela Hutchins didn’t have the sensitivity to notice that her

father wasn’t feeling very lucky at the moment.

“And the bones?” Seth managed, choking and sputtering, pulling the blanket tighter

around his shoulders. “Were they her bones?”

“Small animal bones. Two sets, we think cats.”

“Romeo and Juliet,” Hayley whispered. “Mama’s cats. They wouldn’t have left her. She

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wouldn’t have left them.”

Hayley blew out a breath and choked back a sob as she tried to imagine her mother’s last

seconds as the cell phone went dead. Maybe she had been blown clear of the house in the

explosion. She might be lying in the yard or bushes or trees somewhere nearby, or better yet,

walking around in a daze.

“I should go look for her. She might be wandering around the neighborhood.”

“No, please,” he stuttered. “Stay here with me.”

She held him tighter.

“Mr. Paver,” the Fire Chief said, “did you smell anything before the explosion? Did you

hear any loud hissing sounds?”

Seth took a deep breath and talked to the ground between his knees. “I didn’t, no,

nothing. I already told the police I was outside getting the newspaper when I heard the explosion.

It all happened so fast. The house was leveled, and everything was on fire.” He looked up at the

Chief. “It was a brand new house. You said the second-floor gas furnace in the attic exploded. It

must’ve been defective from the factory. We had the latest equipment. Smoke detectors, fire

detectors, gas detectors. My wife insisted. I don’t know how this could have happened.”

“Mr. Paver, we’re going to get you some answers,” assured Chief Hutchins.

Seth turned pale, and he couldn’t catch his breath. Then he heaved and broke down

crying.

“Goddammit, Mama, get back here and fix this,” Hayley pleaded. “We need you.”

For more information or to purchase this story, go to www.twbpress.com/achoirofangels.html.

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About the Author

Marilyn Baron is a public relations consultant in Atlanta. She’s a member of Romance Writers of America (RWA) and serves on the board of Georgia Romance Writers (GRW) as editor of The Galley, GRW’s award-winning online newsletter. She is the recipient of the GRW 2009 Chapter Service Award. Marilyn writes humorous women’s fiction, including The Edger, which won first place in the Suspense Romance category of the 2010 Ignite the Flame Contest, sponsored by Central Ohio Fiction Writers RWA chapter. Her manuscript, The Colonoscopy Club, finaled in the GRW Unpublished Maggie Awards for Excellence in 2005 in the Single Title category. A native of Miami, Florida, Marilyn now lives in Roswell, Georgia, with her husband. She blogs with the Petit Fours and Hot Tamales writers’ blog. Marilyn graduated from The University of Florida in Gainesville, Florida, with a B.S. in Journalism [Public Relations sequence] and a minor in Creative Writing. She met her husband at UF and both of her daughters graduated from UF. Go Gators! When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading, traveling [she’s been to Helle (a village in Norway) and back], going to the movies, eating Italian food and hovering over her two daughters. Her favorite place to visit is Italy, where she spent six months studying in Florence during her senior year in college. She invites you to visit her blog at www.petitfoursandhottamales.com

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