Guilty of Love (44 page)

Her eyes pleaded with him. “I know how
special your love is, but it isn’t enough anymore,” her voice
faded. “It’s hard to explain, but before I walked to the altar, God
showed me myself burning in flames. It was either I make a choice
then, or never. I chose then on Sunday.”

“
I can protect you. I’d
never let anything happen to you, baby.” Malcolm jammed his fists
on his waist. “Hallison, I’m not feelin’ I need God to direct what
I say and do, but I sure do need you. Again, I’m asking you, do you
love me?”

She looked away, not responding.
Malcolm knew he was a good person who truly loved her. The man
upstairs could appreciate that. When she remained quiet, Malcolm
nodded. He had his answer. He turned toward her office door to
leave when he heard a faint, “Yes.”

Malcolm swung around, not realizing he
had been holding his breath. “Then this is not over.” He believed
Hallison was worth fighting for, even if the competition was
God.

***

Sometimes Parke didn’t know how to
pray, and what to pray for, but the Reynolds were at the top of his
list. After Cheney’s tearful reunion with Gayle, he prayed the
other family members would follow.

“
Parke Jamieson,” a deep
voice on the other end of the phone stated when he
answered.

“
Yes?” Parke lifted his
brow. The voice wasn’t familiar, but the tone alerted him to be on
guard.

“
I’m Dr. Roland Reynolds,
my daughter’s pitiful father. I understand you’ve asked my daughter
to marry you.”

Parke nodded to himself, but didn’t
respond. He decided to the let the man dig himself out of his
hole.

“
I want to repair the
relationship with Cheney. I’m hoping you can help me with that,”
the strong, confident voice dissolved to a humble plea.

Thirty minutes later after listening
to the man’s unbelievable story, Parke ended the call saying, “Do
you mind if I pray for you, Roland?”

“
Please.”

“
In the name of Jesus, I
come before You on Roland’s behalf. I worship You for the power of
Your blood that can not only wash away our sins, but our
guilt.”

Summer was a memory, but the second
week in October was perfect for a fall outdoor wedding. Mrs.
Beacon’s back yard was the backdrop, professionally landscaped with
a rock garden, a miniature waterfall cascading into a goldfish
pond, and stone benches lining a brick walkway to a common
ground.

“
Parke couldn’t have gotten
a better bride,” Imani told Cheney, standing in her bridesmaid’s
dress. “Who knows, maybe Captain Rogers and I might be next. The
first time I was young and stupid. Now I’m mature and smart. Like
you, I’m not going to let a good man—White or Black—get
away.”

“
Imani, all of us aren’t
engaged.” Cheney tilted her head toward Hallison.

“
Oops, sorry.”

“
That’s all right. I’m so
happy for both of you,” Hallison said tearfully.

“
I know this can’t be easy
for you,” Cheney said, hugging her new friend.

“
No, it’s not. Every day I
try to fall out of love with Malcolm. I’m praying that by walking
away, God will send him back into my life a changed and
spirit-filled man.”

“
Right now he’s not only a
thorn in your side, but everybody else’s, too,” Cheney said. “He’s
mentioned several times losing you is not his definition of being a
Christian, and the world has gone crazy except for him.”

While Imani styled Cheney’s hair,
Cheney reflected on what had been altered in her life. Her
relationship with her mother was on the road to recovery. They
spoke every morning and prayed, lunched together, and set aside a
church girls’ night out with Addison and Hallison. Charlotte
Jamieson attended from time to time, and of course, Mrs. Beacon
told tales about her mystery caller who was part of a children’s
evangelistic ministry. Then, there was Parke.
Her Parke.
At
first, he irritated her. Now he was like a touch of spice to a
bland dish.

“
Imani, you promised to
come to church with me when I return from my honeymoon,” Cheney
reminded her.

“
Of course, you’ll be
another person whose coat tails I can ride on for
prayer.”

“
Sorry, you’re going to
have to get it for yourself this time.”

***

Parke stood regal, gazing at the
emotions playing across Cheney’s face as she stepped toward him.
This afternoon, the Jamieson clan, Cheney’s mother, Dre, and Sasha
along with their paternal grandmother sat in attendance to witness
the nuptials. “We’re finally getting a daughter-in-law,” had been
his parents’ words.

During the last months, Cheney smiled
more with her eyes, enticing him with the lift of her brow. Their
once charged combative encounters were replaced with quiet time,
relaxing or studying scriptures. His heart did its thing again,
fluttering at the sight of her. She was more than gorgeous. How
could he have thought differently?

His bride was beautiful. Cheney was
magnificently dressed in a long-sleeve, pearl-white satin gown with
a long, flowing train, sprinkled with white pearls and translucent
beads. Her headdress was Chantilly lace mixed with
pearls.

“
Who gives this woman
away?” Pastor Scott asked.

Expecting Cheney’s mother to respond,
she was surprised to see Roland Reynolds walking into the garden,
announcing his presence. “I do.”

Cheney’s shocked expression would
always be etched in his mind. Over the months, unbeknownst to
Cheney, Roland was trying to get closer to God. The big shock was
learning that Roland had distanced himself from Cheney not because
of her abortion, but because of his guilt twenty years
earlier.

“
Parke, I love my daughter,
but I hate myself. I was the hit-and-run driver who killed Henry
Beacon. When I found out that Cheney moved next door, I went crazy
and used whatever method necessary not to visit, even if I hurt my
baby girl in the process. I couldn’t face Mrs. Beacon knowing what
I did.”

Roland had been drinking.
The following day when he read in the newspaper about the accident
and learned there were no witnesses, “I kept quiet to keep my
reputation intact and my secret buried. When Cheney moved back to
Missouri, I couldn’t believe how fate would lead her next door to
my past.”

It wasn’t easy to withhold that
information from Cheney, but Roland pleaded with him to wait until
after the wedding to tell Cheney and Mrs. Beacon, who was sure to
lynch him before he could turn himself in to the authorities. Parke
had come to accept that being saved didn’t mean everything would
fall in place, as Hallison was learning.

Hearing Pastor Scott’s prompting,
Parke recited his vows, understanding the importance his heritage
and responsibility were to future generations, biologically or
adopted.

“
Cheney, I stand before you
knowing we belonged to each other long before we knew it. I promise
my faithfulness, undying love, and friendship. Baby, I will cherish
you above all riches. You are my treasure. I will keep you safe and
securely close to my heart. I love you and will honor your position
beside me, always lifting you up as my best part, not a
counterpart, until death do us part.”

Her misty eyes matched his, but a
sniff behind him made Parke glance over his shoulder at Malcolm who
was stone faced. Parke ached for him.

Cheney stepped into Parke’s space. Her
manicured nails touched his hand. She scanned his face as if
memorizing his features. Closing her eyes, she inhaled his cologne,
smiling. Cheney was branding him as hers.

Bowing her head, he heard Cheney pray
before reciting her vows. “Parke Kokumuo Jamieson VI, it’s so hard
to find words to describe what I’m feeling today. I’ll be forever
grateful that you walked out of my dreams and into my life. You’ve
given me unwavering love, friendship, and humor.” They smiled,
blinking back tears. “I want to give you abundant, overflowing,
endless happiness, my love, and submission so that you will never
regret asking me to be your wife. I promise to honor you and listen
to you when you speak and when you don’t. I promise to be faithful
to your needs and desires, and to love you until my last
breath.”

As Pastor Scott pronounced them man
and wife, a gentle breeze stirred the trees, sprinkling autumn
leaves for showers of blessings.

Parke climbed out of bed without
disturbing his wife of six months, two weeks, and twelve hours. He
couldn’t resist stroking her shiny curls. He whispered “I love you”
close to her ear. She didn’t stir.

The house was quiet, his house that
had become theirs. Imani purchased Cheney’s because she was the
only one Mrs. Beacon agreed not to harass. On the other hand, Imani
felt her home would be safe when she was away because Mrs. Beacon
was better than a guard dog.

He looked out the bedroom’s French
doors. This was Parke’s favorite time of the morning when random
spears of light from the sky hinted of the day’s possibilities.
Another day the Lord had made. What would God show him
today?

Folding his arms, he glanced back at
his bed. White netting hung loosely over eight-foot bedposts,
creating an exotic ambience fit for his queen. The image of Cheney
snuggled under their satin comforter completed Parke’s mystic
musing. Over the months, Parke watched as Cheney had transformed
his bachelor bedroom into a cozy honeymoon suite where they played
hide and seek, enjoyed sunsets, and indulged each other with
breakfast in bed
.
Life couldn’t be better.

An early riser, Parke used this time
to pray, mediate, and thank God for the woman He sent into his
life. He monitored Cheney’s even breathing. She was fast asleep. He
thought about their small garden wedding, which Cheney said she had
dreamed about. Everything was perfect except the tension between
Malcolm and Hallison, which was thicker than their wedding cake,
and the whereabouts of the boy who could be his son.

His weekly ritual included calling
Wilma and his private investigator for anything new. Surely, he
didn’t just fall off the face of the earth.

His parents embraced his new religion
with skepticism, but were ecstatic about Cheney becoming his wife.
Malcolm was growing more rebellious about the whole idea of God and
church, but Parke knew that prayer does change things.

Cheney moaned. He was at her bedside
in seconds. Then she smiled in her sleep. Good, she wasn’t in pain
like the previous nights. He returned to his spot at the window.
Parke loved watching her. He had memorized her unique sounds,
amusing expressions, and routine positions. “C’mon, baby, it’s
about time you scoot to my side of the bed and rub that expanding
stomach of yours,” he coaxed in a hushed voice.

Within seconds, she did as Parke
predicted. Grinning with satisfaction, he stretched, sat in a chair
next to the window, and folded his hands behind his head. He closed
his eyes, remembering the doctor’s diagnosis.

“
Mrs. Jamieson, I have your
files in front of me. I’ve examined you myself. You’re infertile.
The symptoms you’re experiencing are possibly associated with
fatigue and the stress of a new marriage.”

Parke didn’t care for
Doctor Kufu’s attitude or advice. Parke reached for Cheney’s hand
across the examining table. “Baby, we’ll see what God
says.”

Doctor Kufu smirked. “Suit
yourself,” he mumbled as he left the room.

That night, they prayed
until God spoke, instructing them to find another doctor. A day
later, they met a childlike physician, fresh out of residency who
confirmed Cheney’s pregnancy, but warned there might be
complications if she carried to full term. Doctor Cates had the
nerve to suggest an abortion, saying the pregnancy would be too
risky. Again, they prayed and God told them to believe.

Now, Cheney was beginning her second
trimester with a Jamieson growing inside. They would keep their
faith in God despite Cheney’s spotting last week. Tears filled
Parke’s eyes. Would they have a boy or a girl? Who would the tiny
creature look like?

“
Daddy,” a shrieking voice
echoed throughout the house.

He stood and tiptoed out of their
room, racing down the hall. Like clockwork, Kami woke at the same
time every morning, even on the weekends. The child terror went
ballistic with her new foster parents, tearing up their house,
wetting the bed, and staying up all night. The parents admitted
defeat after two weeks. That was the third set of foster parents
since leaving Cheney’s.

Without any hesitation, Cheney and
Parke took her back. Soon, Kami Fields would become a Jamieson,
before her baby brother or sister was born. Dre and Sasha were
excited about the baby and had come to visit a few times. They were
adjusting well with their grandmother.

Parke returned to his room just as
Cheney’s lids fluttered.

“
Good morning,” Cheney
greeted in a dreamlike state.

Parke kneeled on the floor, facing his
wife. “Hi, sweetheart.”