Guilty of Love (26 page)

Parke exhaled a breath he didn’t
realize he was holding. “I’m honored that you’ve chosen me to be
your confidant.” Closing his eyes, he massaged his temples,
thinking. Abortion was legal. He was sure he dated women who’d had
one, but it wasn’t a subject that a couple discussed over
drinks.

Personally, he wouldn’t tolerate any
woman who killed his offspring, a Diomande generation. It was his
responsibility to Paki. He accessed Cheney. She was a ball of
mysteries and a basket case, unraveling before him. He cleared his
throat, contemplating the right words. “We all make mistakes.
That’s how we live, learn, and mature—”

Her nostrils flared. “I was an
educated fool.” She pounded her fists on the floor. Her growl
reminded Parke of a vicious dog waiting for the attack
command.

“
I get so angry with myself
for being so stupid!” She attempted to close her red swollen eyes
as she slumped back against his chest in defeat. “Larry was all
that to me—perfect, tall, handsome, and studying to become an
attorney.”

“
And the idiot who let you
go.”

Cheney’s eyes pleaded with him. “I
loved him. I believed in him, supported him, and all I was to him
was a bed feast to satisfy his insatiable male
appetite.”

He gripped her hands and began slowly
massaging her fingers. “You’ll have other babies.”
Maybe this is
a good time to tell her that I’m falling in love with her.
It
had to be love that kept him coming back for her insults, love that
missed being in her presence, and love that would make him
sacrifice anything to see Cheney happy.

“
He whispered all the
tender words that held my heart captive. He was the master romantic
with his quick phone calls, short and sweet love notes, and thirsty
kisses. I loved that man with everything I had only to find out he
shared his love and kisses with at least two other women,” she
snapped with bitterness.

Things were starting to become clearer
to Parke. No wonder Cheney avoided his advances. To her, he was
another Larry. The big difference between him and this other man
was Parke had never professed his love to a woman or forced his way
into any bed. She began withdrawing from him again. He could feel
she had more to say. He waited.

“
I thought Larry didn’t
want a baby because we were too young and studying. He found time
for other types of studies and exams. Two children—no, let me
correct that, one toddler and another baby on the way,” she
whispered between hiccups.

“
What?”

“
Can you believe that?”
Cheney scanned the room like she was ready to throw something, and
judging from the pent-up anger Parke was witnessing, she might
choose him. “Larry practically dragged me to that abortion clinic,
convincing me that we didn’t have a choice. I never knew. I never
suspected—the dog!”

Hunching over, she mixed
heart-wrenching moans with her sobs. “I wonder if those women
fought with Larry for the life of their child, refusing to abort
his seed, and accepted the unselfish life of a single mother. Was
Larry excited about becoming a father? Who was he cheating on,
Parke, them or me?”

Both.
“He cheated himself,” he
answered, choking.

Sluggishly, Cheney looked up and met
Parke’s eyes. “Why are you crying?”

Patting his face, Parke didn’t realize
tears soaked his cheeks. He couldn’t recall the last time he had
cried. “Because Larry didn’t love you, nor did he deserve you or
your love. My soul is crying out as your anguish touches my very
essence. “

“
I wish,” she paused, “I
wish someone had told me sooner about Larry.”

“
You wouldn’t have
listened. I’m told love has a power of its own, and in your
situation, your love was strong enough to cover his
lies.”

“
I’ll never love like that
again. I can’t. Larry took too much from me.” Cheney’s voice was
barely audible. “The procedure not only killed my baby and
destroyed my mind, but butchered my body so that I can never bear
children.”

Two days before
Thanksgiving

“
You are not staying home
alone for the holidays! You’ll get in trouble like Macaulay
Culkin.”

Mrs. Beacon’s humor didn’t penetrate
Cheney’s sullen mood. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be
okay.”

Positioning her hands on her hips and
jerking her neck, Mrs. Beacon resembled a cowboy getting ready to
draw a gun in an old-time western shootout. “Not when your family
is going to a South Carolina B&B, and they conveniently forgot
to invite you.”

“
They did invite me the
night before as they packed.”

“
Humph! Well, what better
way to spend the holidays than alpine skiing with me off steep
snow-covered mountains, and dodging trees?” Mrs. Beacon struck a
ski pose.

Cheney hid her smile as she scanned
her neighbor’s bedroom that was decorated in a Victorian-style era
with scalloped lace Priscilla curtains and thick rose-colored satin
drapes. “Resting in a warm bed with no broken bones will cure any
holiday blues.”

Mrs. Beacon gnawed on her bottom lip
as if thinking of a comeback when her phone rang. She shot daggers
at the phone before answering it. Barely listening to the caller,
Mrs. Beacon hung up without responding. “That child needs to go
play in traffic.”

Why did she always get irritated when
her phone rang or was it just a certain caller? Mrs. Beacon never
offered an explanation. Cheney never asked—yet.

Returning from her “commercial break”,
Mrs. Beacon whined, “Then I guess it’s settled. I’m an old woman,
climbing near one hundred, so close to death, I could go any
second. All I want is to enjoy one last pleasure in life before my
cold, lifeless body is lowered into the grave. All I ask is for a
traveling companion so—”

Cheney fought back laughing at her
neighbor’s mischievous antics. The woman could lie
.
“What
happened to the others kissing the wind on the slopes with
you?”

The near-death performance fizzled as
Mrs. Beacon gathered renewed energy. “There will be hundreds—no
thousands, possibly millions—of glorious Black men and women
skillfully maneuvering obstacle after obstacle on the slopes. It’s
a sight to see.” My Midwestern African-American Skiing Club boasts
at least three hundred members.”

“
Now Grandma BB, you know
not that many Black folks ski. None of your medications cause
hallucinating side effects, do they?”

Taking offense, Mrs. Beacon jutted her
chin. “This is a new time for Colored people. If Tiger can take
over the greens, and the Williams sisters can dominate the tennis
court, why can’t Blacks stroke the mountain slopes? Girl, you don’t
want to miss this.”

“
That’s the point. I do
want to miss it.” Cheney stood, and affectionately hugged the woman
who had become like a grandmother. “Close to death, my foot, you’re
a tough little granny with an imagination worse than Stephen
King’s. If you’re alone, it’s because you scared everybody off
wearing Grandpa Henry’s Stacy Adams.”

“
Hush, chile. That’s my
secret crazy old lady getup.” Mrs. Beacon jammed a fuchsia-and-gray
turtleneck in her suitcase, then strutted across the room,
winking.

Cheney almost spewed hot chocolate on
the woman’s thick mauve carpet to contain her laughter. Her
neighbor was funnier than a cartoon character. “Okay, I’ll go, but
only to keep an eye on you, but if I break any bones, I’ll make
your life miserable.”

“
Break a leg. There’s
nothing better than a volunteer ski patroller rescuing an amateur
skier—them brothers could make a woman play dead for hours.
Resuscitate me.”

“
You’re truly a naughty
grandma.”

A wide grin spread across the
seventy-something’s face. “You better know it. We might pick up
some fine-looking young men at Kissing Bridge, Niagara
Falls.”

“
Seriously?” Cheney
grunted. “Count me out. I’m not looking for any
romance.”

Mrs. Beacon patted her curls, fresh
from a salon visit. “Everybody smooches a little on the airlifts,
plus Kissing Bridge boasts thirty-something snow-covered
slopes.”

“
Romance is like an
instruction manual filled with too much drama. I’ve starred in a
major role and didn’t win an award.”

“
Nonsense, romance is
exciting, mind-boggling, and contagious. Whew, honey, I can tell
you about some sensuous drama that heated up this room.”

“
On that note, I better
escort my overactive, Geritol-addicted neighbor. You’re way out of
control.” She planted a big, juicy kiss on Mrs. Beacon’s cheek and
left.

Cheney was packed in no time, grateful
for not being alone for the holiday. Her thoughts fast-forwarded to
Parke who had been missing in action since she told him. A slight
ache stirred in her stomach. “Me and my big mouth, some things are
better left buried.” Without trying, she’d sent Parke
packin’.

Despite the mess she had made of their
evening together during the snowstorm, Parke had returned the next
day to clear snow from her car, then stacked plenty of wood logs
against her house. He was still caring and she was still missing
him.

One teardrop fell as Cheney imagined
his probable disdain for her for destroying her lineage whereas he
cherished his. That was her guilt to carry. “I’m sorry, God.” She
hated talking to herself. As if by telepathy, her phone rang and
she answered.

“
What’s the matter? I
called to wish you Happy Holidays, but you don’t sound too happy,”
Imani said hesitantly.

“
I told him, Imani.” There
was a moment of silence.

“
All of it?”

Cheney nodded and softly whispered,
“Yes.” She told Imani what happened. “He cried with me, held me
tight, and I haven’t seen Parke since.”

“
It was going good until
the last part. I was hoping—no—pulling for Parke to be the one. Fly
to Paris for Thanksgiving, my treat. Maybe, you can meet a White
guy.”

“
There’s nothing wrong with
Black men, just Larry.”

“
Okay, tell me you aren’t
breaking bread with your family for the holidays?”

“
Nope.” Cheney beamed,
eying her suitcase. “I’m going on a trip with Grandma BB and an
African-American ski club.”

“
Whoa. I’m
going.”

“
Didn’t you hear me? It’s a
Black ski trip.”

“
Try and stop me from
coming! I’m on the next flight out.”
Click.

One day, she was going to have to
break the news to Imani that she wasn’t Black. Shaking her head,
Cheney was in a better mood. Soon, her thoughts returned to Parke.
He didn’t suffer from my loss. “The law says a woman has the right
to choose.”

The wind seemed to whisper in her ear.
The law is not made for a righteous man, but for the lawless,
disobedient, ungodly and for sinners. Read My Word in
1Timothy.

Trembling, Cheney swallowed. Lawless
and disobedient? She wouldn’t be if God had answered when she
prayed years ago, then things would be different. No Bible reading
for her tonight. She refused to give in to another sullen mood, so
she ran her bath water to relax. As she soaked in a hot
pineapple-and-strawberry foam bath, she dreamt.

The church’s garden was
expertly landscaped, flaunting a lush lawn. Large lilies, healthy
ferns, and rows of bright red impatiens stood at attention while
white roses chased a narrow path to a white gazebo. A warm sun
illuminating a cloudless sky blinked its pleasure at the
picturesque day, perfect for a noon wedding.

The groom was regal in his
black tuxedo tails. Layers of tulle hid the bride’s face while a
bright smile stretched across the groom’s handsome mocha features.
Jet-black, very wavy hair and a sculptured beard hinted of his
recent sprucing from a barber. A stout minister cleared his throat
as he peered over tiny reading glasses watching the groom gently
massage the bride’s hand.

“
Dearly beloved, we are
gathered here today,” the baritone voice boomed loud enough for a
crowded cathedral.

Family and friends
whispered as they sat watching two flower girls attempting to pull
petals off nearby flowers and place them in their baskets. Some
snickered.

“
Do you, Parke Jamieson
VII, take Cheyenne Reynolds to be your lawful wedded wife, to have
and to hold—”

Cheney fought the water until her eyes
popped open; her breathing labored. With unsteady hands, she added
hot water to the tub, but the chilly sensation kept seeping into
her soul. There was no Cheyenne Reynolds. “God, no. I cheated a man
out of his wife.” Killing her daughter had caused a trickle-down
effect.

***

Malcolm’s messages on Hallison’s voice
mail were bitter sweet—
I miss you, please call me, thinking
about you, hugs and kisses.
Replaying his last one, she closed
her eyes.
Hali, I would be honored if we could celebrate our
first Thanksgiving at my parents’ house. I’m thankful I’ve found a
woman who makes me so happy. Call me.