Touched By Angels by Debbie Macomber

disguise her own bitter disappointment. “I want to be there. More than anything, but I can’t.”
    “That’s what your note said. So the bright lights of the city have blinded you?”
    “No.” She longed to tell him how she hungered for the peace and solitude of Montana. New York City held its own excitement, its own energy. So often she’d walked down the crowded avenues and felt a rhythm, a cadence, that all but sang up from the asphalt. For three years she’d marched to that beat and hummed its special brand of music.
    Yet the lone cry in the barren hills of home played longingly to her soul, its melody haunting her.
    “Your family misses you,” Trey said, tightening the screws of her regrets.
    Jenny bit into her lower lip.
    “I miss you,” Trey added.
    Jenny’s eyes flew open. Trey, the man who’d invaded her dreams for weeks, admitted to missing her. He’d as much as said he wanted her home.
    Regrets clamored against her chest, their fists sharp and pain-filled. “I can’t come,” she whispered miserably.
    Her words were met with silence.
    “Can’t or won’t?” he asked starkly.

    Brynn Cassidy crossed the street in front of Manhattan High and St. Philip’s Cathedral. She found Father Grady, the gray-haired priest who’d become her friend, in the vestibule.
    “Hello, Father,” she said.
    “Brynn, it’s good to see you, my girl.” His green Irish eyes lit up with warm delight.
    “I got your message. You wanted to see me?”
    “Yes. Come over to the rectory and I’ll have Mrs. Houghton brew us a pot of tea.”
    Brynn glanced at her watch. She enjoyed visiting with Father Grady, but the older priest liked to talk and she didn’t have time that afternoon.
    Father Grady’s eyes followed hers. “Do you have an appointment?”
    “I have to stop off at Roberto Alcantara’s this afternoon and pick up my car.”
    “I know Roberto well,” Father Grady said, and motioned for her to precede him out of the church. “He’s a fine young man.” He paused to glance her way, and it seemed to Brynn that the priest was looking for her to elaborate. She didn’t.
    “Emilio’s in my class.”
    “Ah, yes, Emilio. Roberto’s done his best to keep his brother out of trouble. There haven’t been problems with Emilio, have there?”
    “No, no,” Brynn was quick to tell him.
    Father Grady’s face relaxed.
    Brynn lowered her gaze. It wasn’t Emilio she’d clashed with, but Roberto. “I’m afraid Roberto doesn’t think much of me.”
    Father Grady opened the door to the rectory. “I’m sure you’re mistaken.”
    Brynn followed him inside. She preferred not to tell him about their brief confrontation. It rankled still. Roberto Alcantara had been both rude and unreasonable. But more than that, he’d been wrong.
    “I’m not sure I have time for tea,” she reiterated when she realized that Father Grady fully intended for her to stay and chat anyway.
    “Nonsense.” He escorted Brynn into the parlor and left her while he went in search of Mrs. Houghton, the elderly housekeeper who cared for Father Grady and the bishop when he was in residence.
    Father Grady returned shortly with a tray and two cups. “I was hoping you’d be able to stop over this afternoon,” he said as he set the tray on the coffee table. He handed Brynn a delicate china cup and took one himself before sitting across from her on the velvet settee. “The church is sponsoring a dance this Friday evening for the youth group.”
    Brynn had seen the posters. “I’ve heard several of the kids mention it.”
    “We generally have a good turnout.”
    Brynn was sure that was true.
    “I was wondering,” Father Grady said, studying her above the china cup, “if you’d agree to be one of the chaperones.”
    The request took Brynn by surprise, although in retrospect she supposed it shouldn’t.
    “The children are quite fond of you,” he added as if he felt flattering her would be necessary. “Modesto Diaz mentioned your name