Losing Angeline: London Calling Book Two by Kat Faitour

walk, a long one if necessary, and get yourself sorted out.”
    Angeline nodded, jerkily walking to the doorway. He was right but that didn’t make it any easier to bear. Glancing back, she looked at the twin pairs of gray eyes staring back at her. One was misty and wet with wounded feelings, almost colorless except for their darker rims. The other set had darkened to a deep fog with accusation.  
    John was rarely cross and never with her. Until now, when she’d turned her irritable mood on Devon and frightened her. For the first time, a detached part of her saw the stunning closeness between father and daughter. Not just their eyes, but in their very nature. John was a calm and deliberate man, slow to anger or judgment. Yet censure, mixed with confusion, radiated from him as he rocked their daughter back to calmness. Angeline knew it was an indictment against her, not only for today’s lapse, but also for the past days of her moods and misery.
    Bleeding inside, she addressed Devon again before turning to leave. “I am sorry, baby.”
    She sped down the stairway, blinded by tears but uncaring whether she stumbled or fell. Bursting out the front door, she took a deep breath then resolutely took off down the street, headed for the riverfront. She could find solace there, comfort in its ebb and flow caused by the nearby Atlantic’s tides. She’d grown up on the doorstep of the great river dividing Detroit from neighboring Canada, resplendent with tankers and cargo ships fit for an ocean. The Savannah River, much like the entire South, took a gentler approach. A little slower but steady nonetheless.
    Angeline marched in a purposeful route past some of her favorite city squares. Chatham, with its peaceful quiet and pretty plantings amidst squared-off paths. Monterey, with its soaring marble and granite monument to one of Savannah’s fallen sons. And Calhoun, with its triple-tiered fountain spraying drops of water across a couple as they laughed and posed for photos.
    She didn’t stop or slow down. Her mind raced over the past weeks, trying to pinpoint the moment that had spurred her awkward moods and irritability. It began around the time of their anniversary, she realized, maybe a little before. Although it would be easy to blame it on John and the conversation they’d had about extending their family, she couldn’t.  
    No, this had nothing to do with John. It didn’t have anything to do with Devon or Angeline’s reluctance to enlarge a family she already saw as perfect and whole. It had begun inside her, she realized. A cloying dread that had her looking over her shoulder for an unknown, unseen threat.  
    Her pace quickened.  
    It was fear.  
    Fear had sneaked and snaked its way into her until she couldn’t sleep because of the old nightmares that haunted her. Reluctant to wake John, or make him aware, she’d risen ever earlier as the days passed. Insomnia and fatigue took their toll, quickening her temper until it sparked hot at the slightest touch.
    Her legs slowed as she approached Whitefield Square. She needed to think, figure out what triggered this desperate, defeating terror in her.
    She climbed the two steps necessary to enter the whitewashed gazebo at the center of the park. Taking a seat on one of the built-in benches, she braced her hands beside her and breathed deeply. The unrelenting rain had finally eased, clearing the way for blue skies studded with huge billowing cumulus clouds. She heard a flag whipping in the brisk wind while a neighboring house’s wind chimes sang in jangled harmony.  
    Her heart steadied and slowed. In a fit of clarity, she knew she’d done what she’d sworn she never would.
    She had allowed her past to poison the present.
    The sun’s warmth melted her tension away, leaving her to lean back and relax against the gazebo. She heard the giggles of nearby children followed by laughing shrieks as they engaged in an impromptu game of tag.  
    Fear made her reject John’s