Guilty of Love (10 page)

“
Now, Jim,” Cheney
addressed the salesman as if he were an old friend. “You’re sure
they’ll be delivered tomorrow evening after four? I’m having a
party on Saturday.”

He scratched his thinning hairline.
“You have my word on it, Miss Reynolds.”

“
Thank you. Good
night.”

Streetlights flickered on as Cheney
stepped outside. She had been in there longer than she realized. In
the parking lot, Parke sat behind the wheel of his Envoy, bobbing
his head to music. Watching her, his stare wasn’t scary or
uncomfortable. His expression revealed more of a “you’re here so
I’m here” attitude as if he was security detail.

“
Hey, Parke,” the salesman
yelled, stuck his head out the door and waved.

“
How’s it going, Jim?
Thanks for that client referral,” Parke called back before Jim
locked the showroom door.

“
This guy is worse than
Mrs. Beacon.” She groaned. So Parke was some kind salesman, which
explained why he was a professional nuisance.

She paused, thinking about her
neighbor, Cheney realized she hadn’t seen the mean old bat of late.
Maybe she had broken a leg. Why did seeing Parke trigger thoughts
of Mrs. Beacon? Both were pests. Still concerned, Cheney decided
she would go to check on her.

“
Need a ride home?” Parke
hurried out of his vehicle. His demeanor was still non-threatening;
his voice gentle, his appearance was casual and very nice. He was
handsome without trying.
Did I just appraise a man?
She was
losing focus.

“
You expect me to say yes
and climb in?” Cheney rammed a fist in her side and glared up about
five inches at him. “Think again. Are you crazy? I don’t really
know you well enough to get inside a vehicle with someone who hangs
out of a window, yelling like a fool. Go away. I know my way
home.”

“
Never said you didn’t,” he
said coolly, ignoring her insults. As an enticement, Parke jingled
his keys. “You know, women have called me softer, more intimate
names. I’m only being neighborly.” He wiggled his thick
brows.

“
Ha! You’re one step away
from stalking me.”

Forming a devastating smile, Parke
mixed it with an innocent expression. Maybe his charm worked on
most women. Male charm, deceit, and fake love had almost destroyed
her five years ago. What little she was able to salvage had made
her immune to the opposite sex.

“
C’mon, Cheney, surely we
can be neighbors and friends.”

“
Maybe, but not tonight.
I’m not getting into that SUV. Bye.” Tipping her cap, she dismissed
him. As she began her trek back to Benton Street, Parke followed at
a snail’s pace. Cheney laughed when red lights caught him, then
missed his company.

But like a bloodhound, he was back on
her trail. She didn’t want to acknowledge or encourage a man who
needed to get a life. Secretly, his gesture made her feel secure;
an emotion she thought Larry had packed up and took with him.
Without as much as a wave, Cheney entered her house, locked her
door and went about her business.

***

Friday morning, Cheney awoke anxious
as she dressed for work. The furniture and floor samples she had
purchased would transform her house into a home, but the
anticipation of seeing her family the next day left her feeling
akin to a prisoner granted a visitor’s pass. She hadn’t seen them
in years, and after the last series of phone call debacles, she
spared herself further humiliation and mailed invitations
instead.

She had to remember that she was the
one who broke the family circle. The truth was Cheney wasn’t ready
to relive her abortion through explaining why she had needed the
distance. At least Imani would be there. “Let the good times
roll.”

Unlocking her front door, Cheney
thought about Mrs. Beacon, briefly, very briefly. She glanced at
her watch. Unfortunately there
was
time to check on her
neighbor. Cheney inhaled a fortifying breath and crossed over the
imaginary property line. “Why do I even feel obligated to check on
the neighborhood terror?” she drilled herself.

Cheney’s knuckles froze in mid-air
before tapping on Mrs. Beacon’s front door when it flung open and
bass-pounding music of Janet Jackson filtered outside. Stunned,
Cheney stared.
So she is alive and kickin’.

Mrs. Beacon didn’t miss a beat as she
bounced from one foot to the other lifting a gray dumbbell weight
in one hand.

“
Well, what do you want,
Heney? You’re interrupting my morning workout. I sure hope you
won’t become a worrisome neighbor.”

Taken back, Cheney threw up her hands.
How could a person be so rude? If Cheney was mean-spirited, she
would have knocked out Mrs. Beacon’s false teeth—if she wore them.
Instead, she turned and stormed away.
There goes my good
intention.

“
Hey, baby,” Malcolm
whispered as his soft, wet kisses seduced Hallison.

“
You’re torturing me,” she
mumbled, collapsing in his arms.

“
No, I’m going to love
you.”

Hallison didn’t protest as he fumbled
with the buttons on her blouse. This moment was what she wanted to
experience with him. Moaning, his touch was scandalous.

No more holding back.
Eat your
heart out, God….
What was that annoying buzzing in her ear?
After she swatted the pesky insect, it returned closer and louder.
The noise changed to a familiar voice. Hallison frowned at the
interruption. Somehow she was dreaming and had answered the phone.
“Mom?” she asked breathless.

“
Hali? Is that you? Are you
alone?”

She gripped the receiver. “Ah, oh,
yeah, I think so. I guess I was dreaming.”

“
Hmm.
‘He that
committeth fornication sinneth against his own body.’
Don’t
forget 1 Corinthians 6:18, sweetie.”

Hallison blushed. She was twenty-four
years old, gainfully employed, living alone, and busted by her
mama. Typical Addison Dinkins—she knew the Word. God aside, they
sometimes acted like girlfriends. She heard her mother softly
sipping; no doubt she was drinking her first cup of coffee. Her
mother would always begin her day with an hour of prayer, an hour
of Bible reading and mediation, and then an hour of making phone
calls. Addison’s mission was reminding Hallison and the world that
Jesus was coming back. She only wished her mother would spare
her.

The more Hallison tried to push away,
the more Addison pulled her back. Breaking the child-parent string
meant Hallison finding her own church. She knew the difference
between right and wrong, and God loved her no matter what.
Do
your dirt, girl, then repent.
Simple. Hallison knew how to play
the game well enough to keep from going to hell.

Evidently, members of her mother’s
prayer group, Saving Souls for Jesus, called her name out to make
sure of it. They ranged in age from eight to ninety-seven. Rain or
shine, they made daily calls, delivering inspirational messages and
reciting scriptures. Without signing up, Hallison seemed to be on
more than one list.

She wanted to remind her mother of her
grown status, but any hint of sassing Addison Dinkins would result
in her mother hunting her down and returning the favor.

“
Hali, what’s going on with
you?”

She could picture her mother frowning,
marring a face resembling a younger Della Reese, but standing
five-two. Hallison inherited her five-foot-ten height from her dad,
Harold, who stood over six feet.

“
Huh?” Hallison knew she
couldn’t fool her mother, but she was stalling. The only child of
middle-aged parents, she had attended Sunday school and worship,
Monday prayer meeting, Wednesday Bible class, Thursday youth
activities, Friday evangelistic services, and anything else when
the church doors were opened. When her dad passed away ten years
ago, her mother seemed to increase her prayer life, which included
Hallison against her will.

“
What man has you moaning?
Thank God you were dreaming.” Her mother’s voice always was gentle;
her interest, genuine.

Sighing, Hallison heard her mother
shuffling pages. Odds were Addison was hunting down a scripture to
throw at her. Hallison didn’t have to wait long.

“
We have to be careful,
even in our sleep. Satan can plant his seeds at any time and then
wait for us to act upon them. St. James 1:15 says,
‘When lust
hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin’.
”

“
Mother, you’re condemning
me—”

“
No, I’m not, sweetheart.
Only God can condemn you. I’m just reminding you. I’ll never stop
being Momma. Now tell me about this captivating young
man.”

Smiling, Hallison flipped her hair
back off her face. Their conversations always began the same way,
scriptures before girl talk. “Malcolm Jamieson is a wonderful man.
He’s a CPA, very handsome, intelligent, and he worships
me.”

“
So, you’re his god,
huh?”

“
Momma!”

“
Okay. I’m
listening.”

“
He makes me feel so
beautiful, like I’m an Egyptian or African queen. I really like
spending time with him, Momma.”

Addison didn’t seem impressed. “You
didn’t meet him at some nightclub?”

Hallison needed her privacy. Otherwise
her mother would call her feelings for Malcolm scandalous. She
would never forget the day she and Malcolm connected. He was the
best thing that had ever happened to her.

“
No. We met at a minority
job fair. I was representing my bank. He and another guy were
representing their accounting firm. There were about fifty
Black-owned companies or firms recruiting Blacks. I’m surprised he
even noticed me. It was packed.”

“
You’re my beautiful
daughter who has become a woman. What man wouldn’t notice you?”
Addison chimed in.

“
I’m just glad it was
Malcolm. I remember how striking he looked, dressed in a
show-stopping, deep-brown pinstripe suit. Mmm, he made the suit,
not the other way around. He watched me throughout the
fair.”

“
He looked that good, and
I’ve never met him?” her mother teased. “Well, that’s a safe way to
happen upon someone, a professional setting. Church would’ve been
better.”

“
I’d never found a man like
him in the church.”

“
So, I guess you were
watching him, too. I hope you were dressed to the
nines.”

Starry-eyed, Hallison chuckled at her
mother’s statement. “It wasn’t as if I was watching him so much as
I could feel him watching me. His stare held me
hostage.”

“
How long ago was
this?”

“
Four months.”

Addison gasped. “And I’m just now
hearing about him? I thought we were closer than that.”

“
We are, Ma,” she whined.
“This is different. I cherish this relationship. Our feelings took
me by surprise. Now, Malcolm’s the only man I want in my
life.”

“
I see. Four months, and
I’ve never met him.”

Checking her alarm clock, Hallison
noted the time. Later that evening, she would attend the St. Louis
Black Journalists’ silent photo auction with Malcolm. She couldn’t
wait to bid on black-and-white memorabilia and unusual prints for
her apartment. Closing her eyes, Hallison imagined breathing in
Malcolm’s cologne. She loved to watch his thick, black eyebrow lift
when he was contemplating a decision. During the past few months,
he had invited her to his apartment for dinner. She had declined,
knowing the heat between them alone would cook more than a meal.
She was determined to sleep with Malcolm, just not yet. When
Hallison did, she wouldn’t feel guilty about it.

Her mother must have known where her
thoughts were leading because she broke out with a Bible verse. “I
trust you, but not the tricks of the devil. Just this morning, I
was mediating on St. Matthew 16:26:
‘For what is a man profited,
if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Or what
shall a man give in exchange for his soul?
’”

“
Mama, I’m not selling my
so—”

“
No man, job, or desire is
worth you losing your soul. Why don’t you come to church with me
tomorrow and bring your exciting young man?”

Irritated, Hallison began picking her
teeth with her fingernail. “Mother, God gave me a choice. You can’t
save me. I have to save myself.”

Silence, then her mother’s voice
softened. “
‘Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a
man sows, he also reaps.’
Read Galatians, the sixth chapter. Be
careful what you’re sowing out there, baby, because there is a
harvest. Remember I love you.”

Pastors didn’t know everything.
Hallison didn’t want them trying to dictate her life. That’s what
happened to her friends, Tavia and David. Despite the pastor
advising against marriage, they married anyway and were happy.
Hallison’s rebellious streak included smoking because she was big
and bad enough. But that habit didn’t last.

Guilty tears began to stream down her
cheeks. Why did she have to know the scriptures and the
consequences of her actions? “I love you, too. Just pray for me,
okay?”