Guilty of Love (29 page)

Yeah, right.
Cheney closed her
eyes. “So how many numbers did you get?” she queried, eyeing her
own collection.

“
I’m wounded,” he said.
“Now my buddies? They compared numbers like they were checking
lottery tickets. If I met someone who was special and beautiful,
then the trip was worth it. If not, it served as a diversion from
work.”

Cheney’s suspicious nature kicked in.
“Mmm. C’mon, Ray, not even one or two? You know honesty is the best
ingredient to beginning a relationship.”

“
None,” he repeated. “I
didn’t go to Niagara Falls to amass women’s numbers like my
friends, Fred Hanes, Larry Thimes, and—”

“
Did you say Larry, Larry
Thimes?”

“
Yes. I didn’t really know
him, but he’s a friend of my cousin’s. Both are attorneys. Fred
mentioned Larry was looking for Miss Right. Now that brotha was on
a mission.” Raymond grunted. “The way he was scrutinizing the
babes, I thought he was interviewing for a corporate position. I
heard he broke two engage—”

How about adding a broken heart to
his list?
Cheney reacted without thinking and hit the END
button. She didn’t care if Raymond wasn’t responsible for her pain.
He was the messenger, and she had heard enough. “Five long
years…thousands of miles away, and I still can’t escape Larry’s
name, memory, or his betrayal.”

Now that she thought about it ...
Cheney had shrugged off the Larry sighting on the slopes as her
imagination. Then on the dance floor, except that man wore a beard
and was thicker. She brushed it off. The probability of them being
at the same place at the same time after five years was close to
none.
Did he know I was there and avoided me?
What a missed
opportunity. I could’ve slapped him, kicked him, and cursed him
out—just one time and then repented like Imani. She grinned. A
hypocritical Christian wasn’t a bad thing.

Grabbing her cordless phone, she
couldn’t punch in Imani’s cell number fast enough. She didn’t care
if her friend was in the air or just landed, she had to talk to
her.

“
Hey, girl,” Imani
answered, giggling. “Can I call you back? Captain Rogers and I were
just goin—”

“
Cancel it,” Cheney
snapped.

“
What?”

“
I need to talk to you
now.”

“
Okay, hold on.” Imani
covered up the phone. A muffled male voice in the background didn’t
seem pleased with the change of plans. A few seconds later, she
returned to the conversation. “Okay, girl, you caused me to miss a
free meal with the handsome captain. This better be a medical
emergency, or that you’re in jail and need bond money.”

Cheney released her floodgate and
became hysterical with hate, revenge, and anger. “Did you know
Larry Thimes was at the ski resort? I could’ve eaten him
alive.”

“
Yeah, I knew,” Imani
answered calmly.

“
What! You saw him? Why
didn’t you tell me? How could you not?”

“
No need. I took care of
him.”

“
What do you mean?” Cheney
stopped pacing the floor. “If you didn’t strangle him, then you
couldn’t have done the job.”

“
I can’t believe I missed a
seafood feast at an outdoor Moroccan restaurant overlooking the
Mediterranean Sea to talk about that loser.”

“
Spill it, sister. What
aren’t you telling me?”

Imani sighed. “I hadn’t planned to say
anything, but yes, I saw the pompous attorney. Remember, you showed
me his picture when I came to North Carolina to help take care of
you while you were convalescing. Of course, he didn’t know who I
was, but he tried to woo me. He looked familiar, but as soon as he
introduced himself, bingo.”

“
And?”

“
We met in the bar for
drinks. I flirted so outrageously that I’m sure he expected a
pleasurable night.”

“
But?”

“
When we were outside the
door to his hotel room, I told him I had something for him. He was
stupid enough to tell me he wanted it, too.”

“
Get to the end.” Cheney
gritted her teeth and clenched her fists.

“
All right. Well, I slapped
him, twice. The second time I had your name written on my hand. Not
the chaste tap, but the sucker-slap-the-butthead hit.”

“
You what!”

“
Smacked the sucker, and
when he thought about retaliating, I told him, quote, ‘Touch me and
I’ll scream assault. Who do you think the police are going to
believe, a White woman or a Black man?’ End quote.”

Cheney fell back laughing. “No you
didn’t play the race card.”

“
I did. Now, I would like
to make that date tonight. We’ll talk later.”
Click.

With mixed emotions, Cheney collapsed
into a nearby chair. She wanted to cry tears of joy that Larry got
his just rewards, but mad for her missed opportunity to deliver the
blow. The phone interrupted a tantrum brewing. She answered it with
a bark. “Hello.”

“
Whoa, I was calling to get
my girl back. But you’re having a bad attitude day.”

“
I was never your girl.”
Cheney huffed.

“
Sorry, how about my
friend?”

“
Not now, Parke. It’s the
wrong time, and I’m the wrong person to joke with.”

“
Please don’t be angry with
me,” his voice filled with concern, “I’m sorry for acting like a
coward.”

“
It’s not about you,
Parke.”

“
Then, what’s
wrong?”

“
Larry—”

Click.
Cheney frowned at the
phone
. Is everybody crazy tonight, or is it just me?
Heated,
she wanted to get in the boxing ring with a worthy opponent, Laila
Ali. She would probably hold her own ‘til the ninth round,
pretending that Laila was Larry Thimes.

Instead, she balled her fists and
swiped the air at Larry’s nose, his luscious mouth, his prized sex
machine. Working up a sweat, Cheney concluded she needed to be more
constructive, so she began cleaning imaginary dirt from her
sparkling house. “Of all the places I could go, why there? Why
now?” Cheney pounded a fist against the wall. “Larry has a lot of
nerve looking for Miss Right when he’s the Master of
Wrong.”

The doorbell suspended her rampage.
She approached the living room, mocking a martial arts stance,
yelling, “Unless you’re Larry Thimes, now is not a good time for
company.” The chime stopped and pounding started.

Marching to the door, she flung it
open to see Parke. Cheney sighed. Her patience and all pleasantries
lay dormant as insanity reigned. “What are you doing
here?”

Parke cleared the doorway, uninvited.
“You’re here and upset, so now, I’m upset and I’m here.” He reached
for her hand. “I’m sorry for freaking out. Believe me, I care about
you. The hiatus proved that to me. What’s going on? Let me fight
your battles.”

Perplexed, Cheney stared at the scowl
on his face. “You’re an idiot. There is no apology necessary.
Although I missed your presence, I expected it. Grandma BB is a
good replacement. Believe
me.
I don’t need any help to fight
Larr—”

“
Where is he? I couldn’t
stop Larry from hurting you the first time, but it ain’t happening
again. If he’s here, then I’ll personally take him out.”

I’ve got a one-man militia in the
house,
Cheney thought. Parke was comical. She had a right to be
mad, but he came storming in her home like her personal secret
service detail ready to protect. Her battle was with bad memories.
Despite her anger, she wanted to laugh, but she was still too upset
to crack a smile, but her heart warmed because of his concerns.
“The jerk’s not here. Ooh, I wish he was. I was on the phone
—”

“
Hold it. Get your coat.
Let’s walk and talk.”

With no thought, Cheney gave in to his
request. Once the chilly air hit her face, she could feel her anger
subsiding. Bright, colorful lights and elaborate Christmas
decorations greeted her as Parke walked and waited for her to
speak. One block turned to several as Parke remained silent while
Cheney vented her frustration.

He pointed to a historic three story
house. “You know, I like how the owner outlined the house using
white lights,” he said, distracting her.

“
Hmm, I don’t know. I like
to see a lot of different colors flash on and off.”

He stopped and faced Cheney. “Feel
better? You had enough steam to blow up your house.”

Bowing her head in embarrassment, she
nodded. “Yes. Thanks for coming over.”

Thick snowflakes started to blanket
them as if someone had pushed a button. Parke put his arm around
her shoulder like they were old buddies. “Don’t you know I’m a
strong, fierce warrior who will fight all your battles, if you let
me?”

“
If I’m not happy, I don’t
want him to be happy. If I hurt, I want him to hurt…”

“
Let go. It’s time. Larry
should only be a memory, not a stronghold on your life.”

Cheney absorbed Parke’s wisdom.
Without realizing what she was doing, Cheney snuggled closer. “I’m
trying, but Raymond—”

“
Raymond who?”

“
Never mind.” Cheney looked
up at the night sky. “I agree I need a change in my life, a real
change, so I’ve decided to become a foster parent.”

Parke halted his steps. He smiled as
if something really wasn’t funny. “I can’t believe I’m going to say
this, but I think you need to pray long and hard on this one. It’s
a noble endeavor and a major responsibility. But I hope it’s for
all the right reasons. This is not the only answer to your
situation.”

“
It’s a sign from God. I
want kids so bad, I actually do see them, but if everything goes
well with my request to become a foster parent, then I’ll adopt.
This is a test case. I’ve got a lot of love to give. Plus, I have
the cutest rooms decorated for a boy and girl. I have to do this,”
she said trying to convince him. “But I need
references.”

“
This is
my
sign.”
Parke kissed her. “You don’t have to do this alone.” He squeezed
her shoulder. “I’m here for you.” He paused. “Let’s do this
together.”

“
Forget it.” She tried to
break away, but Parke’s grip was firm.

“
Foster kids are victims
like you. Their abuse could be physical, sexual, neglect, or even
drug addiction.”

“
I know,” Cheney whispered,
blinking rapidly to fight the snowflakes landing on her
lashes.

Wiping her lids, Parke softened his
look. “I believe your abortion was a form of sexual and mental
abuse.”

“
I’ve been living in hell.
No one around me knew except Imani, I have a strong suspicion my
family does, of course Larry, and God.”

He took a deep breath. “Don’t think
I’m crazy, but I experienced something that kinda freaked me out. I
can’t explain. It was so real that I had to surf the net to find
answers. The letters I read on this website confirmed that what I
felt was real.”

“
What are you talking
about?”

“
Where do I begin?” He
gathered his thoughts. “Shortly after you told me about the
abortion, I had the strangest dream. I experienced a physical pain
I guess similar to an abortion as well as the mental anguish. It
wasn’t funny either. My body was possessed.”

“
Parke, this isn’t story
time.”

“
Truth is stranger than
fiction. I’m telling you I was transported to a place where I could
see myself, and the consequences of my choices. Since experiencing
that dream, revelation, or whatever you want to call it, I started
researching abortions online. There were letters from young and
middle-aged women who had them.”

“
Women Who had Abortions
website,” Cheney whispered.

“
Yeah, Gargaro.com,
right?”

“
I’ve never posted a
letter. When I feel like no one understands what I’m going through,
or experienced, I read them, then the guilt resurrects
itself.”

“
That’s understandable
because I cried—for them, you, and our system that allows us to
discard precious cargo like trash. That experience—real or
imaginary—did something to me. I’m sorry I’ve stayed away when you
really needed me.”

It seemed like the snowfall wept
uncontrollably as Parke told his story. Cheney’s eyes misted. “You
don’t have to apologize.” For some unknown reason, his apology gave
Cheney hope that everything would work out in her life.

As a dusting of snow covered the
ground, Parke playfully steered them around a tree to track their
footprints in the snow, being silly. “C’mon, Miss Reynolds, let’s
turn back and get you home. You were so hot you could’ve melted the
snow.”

“
Was I that
bad?”

“
Yeah,” Parke answered
without making eye contact. “I see a change comin’.”

Back on Cheney’s porch, the old Parke
was back. He kneeled and scooped up a handful of snow, shaping it
just as she unlocked and opened her door.

“
Close your eyes,” he
commanded in a non-threatening whisper.