Promising Angela

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  “K–ent.”

  “Kent …” Angela took an involuntary step backward. Ben’s cousin. The one who suffered brain damage after a drug overdose. Sweat broke out all over her body. Swallowing, she forced her lips into another smile. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

  He nodded. “I see you … later.” Without another word, he caught the rubber of his wheels and gave a push, rolling in the direction of the lobby.

  She stood for a long time, looking after him. Sympathy brought tears to her eyes. Despite the beard that covered the lower portion of his face and the dullness of his eyes, she could tell he was a handsome man. His arms showed evidence of strength, although his legs seemed thin beneath the loose denim of his jeans and his hands had appeared clumsy. To think he had been hale and healthy, and a foolish choice had wrought this permanent change.

  Then another thought struck. Although initially uncertain, she had slipped into an easy conversation with him. Time with the clients at New Beginnings was obviously making a change in her heart. She hummed again as she headed for the outside doors. She hoped she’d see Kent again, and she’d be sure to give him a big hello when she did.

  Ben balanced three boxes of Chinese takeout in one hand and pressed the handicap button with the other. Pizza last week, Chinese this week. Both were favorites of Kent’s, so Ben alternated between the two, throwing in the occasional deli sandwich. The doors to Tower Three opened, inviting his entry, and he shifted the items into both hands as he passed through.

  He headed toward the elevators, but a tinkling laugh caught his attention. Shifting his gaze to the lobby, he spotted the unmistakable curly auburn hair of Angela Fisher. And next to her, in his wheelchair, sat none other than his cousin Kent.

  Kent sniffed the air. He shifted in his chair, searching, and his face broke into a huge smile. “Ben! My … friend!”

  Ben moved on shaky legs toward the pair. “Hey, Kent.” His gaze met Angela’s. Her cheeks sported a pink blush. “Angela.”

  “Hi, Ben.” She rose, her fingers linking in a now-familiar gesture of uncertainty. “I see you brought supper. Kent said you would.”

  Ben’s gaze bounced between the pair. “Yeah. It’s our Friday routine.”

  “That’s what he said.” With a light giggle, she added, “And here I thought you were this great cook. But you only bring Kent takeout.” She nudged Kent’s shoulder. “Is that because you’re afraid he’ll try to poison you?”

  Kent’s raucous laughter filled the room.

  Uncertain how much longer his rubbery legs would hold him up, Ben moved to the sofa and leaned against the back. Angela … and Kent … chatting. Teasing. At ease. He’d been so afraid of letting her meet his cousin, yet it appeared they were very comfortable with one another. The wonder of the moment was more than Ben could comprehend.

  She pointed to the cartons in his hands. “At least it looks like you brought something good.”

  “Chinese,” Ben contributed, then felt like an idiot. Of course it’s Chinese. What else would go into these little white boxes with the red squiggle on the side?

  Angela’s smile swung in Kent’s direction. “What’s your favorite Chinese food?”

  “Beef … and broc … broc …” Kent made a horrible face then spat, “Broc’li!”

  Angela laughed softly and gave Kent’s arm a pat. “Wonderful choice. You get your protein and your vegetable that way.”

  Kent beamed while Ben stared in amazement. Angela—teasing with Kent. He hadn’t realized how much she had changed in her brief weeks at New Beginnings.

  “Well.” Angela stepped around the sofa. “I’ll go and let you two eat. I’ll see you later, okay, Kent?”

  Kent nodded his shaggy head, his eyes glowing. “I … see you later … An–ge–la.”

  “Bye, Ben.” And she slipped out the door.

  Ben stared after her, the cartons in his hands nearly forgotten.

  “Ben.”

  Ben shook his head, trying to pull his scattered thoughts together. Angela was visiting with Kent like she’d visit with … anybody. He wished she’d stuck around a little longer and visited with him.

  “Ben!”

  The sharp note of frustration in his cousin’s voice finally caught Ben’s full attention. He turned to Kent. “Yeah?”

  Kent pointed at the cartons. “I am … hun–gry.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” Ben straightened and adjusted his hands for a better grip. Walking alongside Kent’s wheelchair as they headed for the elevators, he said, “How long have you known Angela?”

  Kent’s shoulders raised in a brief shrug.

  “But she’s your friend, huh?”

  Kent’s smile turned knowing. “An–ge–la … is pretty.”

  Ben swallowed. “Yeah …”

  “She is my … girl–friend.”

  Ben felt as though a rock fell from his chest to his stomach. Apparently Angela had been too at ease with Kent. Remembering times when he’d witnessed her flirtatious behavior, he wondered if she’d exercised some of that with Kent. If so, Kent wouldn’t understand Angela was only playing.

  He had a big problem on his hands, and it wasn’t juggling Chinese food cartons.

  seven

  Ben awakened early Saturday with a headache. He knew he wasn’t sick—unless it was sick with worry. Pictures of Angela with Kent had tormented his dreams, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until he’d settled the issue of Kent referring to Angela as his girlfriend.

  He threw back his sheets and headed for the kitchen, planning his morning. She was staying at Elmwood Towers with her aunt. After breakfast he’d drive over and talk to her, make her understand she had to be careful where Kent was concerned. Sure, he wanted her to be relaxed and open around those with handicaps, but flirting with them was a completely different thing. The clients had to learn boundaries for behavior. Apparently Angela needed the same lesson.

  He ate his scrambled eggs and toast as slowly as possible and extended his shower. No sense in arriving at the Cassidy apartment too early. Angela probably slept in on Saturday mornings. After the shower, he read the newspaper and even watched a few cartoons before deciding it was late enough to go.

  Dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a solid blue polo shirt—a step up from his normal summer’s day-off attire of athletic shorts and T-shirt—he drove across town. He found a parking spot in the visitors’ area and walked briskly through the courtyard to Tower Two. The air-conditioned lobby felt good after his brief walk in the Kansas summer heat. Crossing to the panel of intercom buttons, he located the one for the Cassidy apartment and buzzed. After only a few seconds, a crackly voice came through the speaker.

  “This is Eileen.”

  He leaned forward and spoke into the microphone. “Eileen, this is Ben. I wondered if I could visit with Angela.”

  “Just a minute.”

  The thwip indicated the intercom flipped off. Minutes passed while he stood beside the row of buttons, alternately adjusting his collar and tugging the legs of his cargo shorts. Maybe I should have run an iron over the twill….

  “Ben?”

  He’d expected a voice from the intercom, not from behind him. He spun around, banging his elbow on the wall.

  “Whoops.” A smile teased the corners of Angela’s lips. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “No problem.” He rubbed his elbow and took a step toward her. She’d done something different with her hair—pulled it up in a rubber band where it spilled out like a fountain of shining curls on the top of her head. He liked it. “I didn’t expect you to come down. I could’ve come up.”

  Her smile grew. “No, you couldn’t. Aunt Eileen is mopping floors, and she didn’t want you to see her in her mopping clothes.”

  “Oh, okay. And you aren’t helping?”

  Angela sighed. “She won’t let me. She says guests aren’t supposed to clean.”

  “Yeah, Eileen can be pretty stubborn.”

  “I’ll say!”r />
  His gaze flicked over her outfit. Although less dressy than what she wore to work each day, she still looked nice in the flowered skirt that fell just above the knee and bright yellow tank top. Not something one would wear to mop floors, he supposed.

  “What did you need?” She brought him back to the task at hand.

  He drew in a breath. “Let’s go sit down, huh?”

  A brief, puzzled scowl creased her forehead, but she turned toward the seating arrangement in the large lobby. Her jeweled flip-flops softly smacked her heels as she walked in front of him. She sat at one end of the sofa, and Ben chose the other end.

  Facing her, he said, “I wanted to talk to you about Kent.”

  She settled in the corner and tucked her feet beside her. Her elbow on the back of the sofa, she rested her cheek against her fist. “What about him?”

  “Well …” Ben scratched his head. “He said something kind of—worrisome—after you left yesterday evening. I wondered if you could shed any light on it.”

  Her shoulder lifted in a graceful shrug. “What did he say?”

  “That you were his girlfriend.”

  She flashed a smile that lit her eyes. “Oh, that’s really sweet.”

  Sweet? Ben frowned. “To be honest, Angela, it concerns me.”

  “Why should it?”

  Could she really not understand the problem here? Surely she hadn’t deliberately set out to mislead Kent. “Did you do something to give him the idea you would be his girlfriend?”

  She sat upright, planting her fist against the sofa cushion between them. “What do you mean, did I ‘do’ something?”

  The defensiveness took Ben by surprise. “There’s no need to get angry. But you have to understand, while Kent’s muscles and mind don’t necessarily work like any typical male, his feelings are very much ‘normal.’”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  Her words snapped out on a harsh note Ben hadn’t heard from her before. His own tone took a firmer quality. “Look, Angela, you can’t—”

  “I can’t what? Talk to him? Be friends with him?”

  Ben took a deep breath. This wasn’t going very well. “You have to be careful. Kent’s been hurt—a lot. Rejection is hard on him. If he thinks you’re his girlfriend when you’re really only—”

  “Leading him on?” She leaned forward, her face inches from his, and nearly snarled. “That’s what you think, isn’t it?”

  Ben hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt. “Well, I—”

  Flopping back into the corner of the couch, she flipped her hands outward. “Great, just great. I work so hard at getting over my apprehensions about being around the handicapped, and the first time I feel truly comfortable with someone, I get accused of being a tease.”

  Ben listened, but he got the impression she was talking to herself more than him.

  Before he could say anything, she swung around to face him again.

  “If you want the truth, Ben, I do like Kent. I think he’s a pretty nice guy. Great sense of humor, and I can tell he tries hard to do the best he can with what he’s got to work with. I admire that. But as for being his girlfriend, no, I didn’t tell him I’d be his girlfriend, and I didn’t flirt with him. I’m sorry if he got that impression, and I’ll try to kindly set him straight when I see him next.”

  She pointed a finger at his chest. “Because I will see him again. I consider him a friend, and more than that, he reminds me that ‘there but for the grace of God, go I.’”

  Ben crunched his brows downward. “What do you mean by that?”

  Her face flooded with pink, and she shot to her feet. “Never mind. You just remember what else I said. I’m going to be friends with Kent, and you can’t stop me!”

  Ben sat in openmouthed silence as she thundered to the elevators, her flip-flops smacking the tiled floor. She jabbed the elevator button, stood with crossed arms while staring at the silver doors, and then shot through the opening without a backward glance.

  Angela stomped down the hallway that led to Aunt Eileen’s apartment. Who did he think he was, accusing her of leading Kent on? Wasn’t he the one who’d put in her evaluation that she needed to loosen up around the clients, to be more natural? Well, what had she done? She’d loosened up, treated Kent like she would any other male she encountered on the street, and now that was wrong, too!

  Banging through the apartment door, she bellowed, “I’m back!” She gave the door a slam that probably echoed throughout the entire building.

  Roscoe zipped out from under the end table and dashed down the hallway, yellow fur on end and tail puffed to twice its normal size.

  Aunt Eileen appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. The knot on the scarf she’d tied around her head stuck straight up like a bow. Beneath the scarf, her wrinkled face crunched in worry. “Angela, what’s with the fireworks?”

  Angela stormed from one end of the living room to the other, fists raised, emitting growls of frustration. Aunt Eileen captured her on the second pass and pushed her into the recliner. When she would have jumped to her feet, Aunt Eileen stood in front of her and crossed her arms, feet widespread.

  “Uh-uh. Sit.”

  The firm look on her aunt’s face held her in the chair. She slumped back, popped up the footrest, and crossed her ankles. “Fine. I’ll sit.”

  Aunt Eileen gave her one more puzzled scowl before sitting on the arm of the couch. “All right. Spill it.”

  Angela huffed. “That … Ben!”

  A smirk twisted Aunt Eileen’s lips. “Oh.”

  Angela huffed louder. “No, not ‘oh.’ At least not like you said it.” Kicking the footrest down, she sat up, put her elbows on her knees, and covered her face. “Why can’t I ever do things right?”

  “Wait a minute. Back up.” Aunt Eileen grabbed one of Angela’s hands and pulled it down. “What didn’t you do right?”

  A grunt of frustration found its way from Angela’s chest. “Might be easier to make a list of what I have done right. It would take me all of—oh, three seconds—to name it off.” She jabbed one finger in the air. “Coming here while Mom and Dad are away—that’s about all I can think of that I’ve done right.”

  Although she’d promised to sit, she bounced to her feet again. “But done wrong? Oh, boy, can I list those! Hosted all those parties with the sole intention of rattling Dad’s cage so he’d pay some attention to me. Ended up with guests who liked using stuff the policemen frown about.” She thumped her own forehead with the butt of her hand. “Used the stuff myself. Duh! What is that—three things not done right?”

  She began ticking off offenses on her fingers. “Then there’s not only using but getting caught, getting sent to rehab, getting sent to community service at a place where I have to relate to people who are completely different than me—and doing it very badly.”

  “Hold up there.” Aunt Eileen remained perched, her gaze pinned to Angela’s face. “Why do you think you’ve done badly? Philip says you’re working well there.”

  Angela stared at her aunt. “He said that?”

  Aunt Eileen nodded, the knot on her head bobbing. “Yes, he did. He’s pleased with your progress.”

  “Huh!” Angela thought about that for a moment, but then Ben’s evaluation ran through her mind, bringing another scowl. “Well, according to Ben—who is my direct supervisor—I’m not doing things right.” Once more, she began to pace.

  Aunt Eileen reached out and grabbed her hand, bringing her to a halt. “Sweet girl, sit down. Please.”

  With a long sigh, Angela sank back into the recliner.

  “Now.” Aunt Eileen slid from the armrest to the couch seat. “Tell me exactly what happened downstairs with Ben. You weren’t down there more than five minutes. He couldn’t have possibly picked you apart in that short amount of time.”

  Oh, Angela only wished that statement weren’t true. She felt tears gather in her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to control them. “Ben told me Kent sai
d I was his girlfriend.”

  Aunt Eileen smiled, giving a wink and nod. “Ah, I can see why Kent would want that. You’re a very pretty girl.”

  Angela brushed the comment aside. She didn’t feel pretty right now. “He didn’t seem happy about it. He asked me what I was doing with Kent—like I’d been flirting with him.” She pressed her palms to her chest. “I know I’ve been a flirt in the past, Aunt Eileen. I did a lot of things that weren’t right before I became a Christian, but I’m trying so hard to change, to let people know Jesus is in my heart now.”

  “Of course you are.” Aunt Eileen patted Angela’s arm. “I’ve seen it.”

  She lowered her hands to her lap, twisting her fingers together. “I thought Ben knew it, that he saw it, but I guess not. I just want to be friends with Kent. I’d like to be friends with Ben, but I don’t think he really trusts me. All he sees is this dumb woman who can’t relax around people with handicaps. And I just don’t see the point of trying if all I’m going to do is fail!”

  Her voice fell silent, and Aunt Eileen remained quiet, too, her lips puckered in a thoughtful expression. Roscoe peeked from the hallway, his tail twitching, then made three running leaps to land beside Aunt Eileen’s hip. He coiled into a ball and began to purr, his motor a soothing sound.

  Angela sighed, her emotions spent. “Aunt Eileen, I’m so … alone. Mom and Dad are never around. My sisters … They’ve got their own lives. I’m staying away from my old friends so I don’t get myself into trouble, but I really miss them. I miss the fun we used to have. Well, some of the fun. And what scares me is—when Ben accused me of coming on to Kent, I realized the old Angela is still hiding somewhere inside. What if she comes back? What if the need for friendship and fun takes me right back to where I was before?”

  “That won’t happen.”

  Angela laughed. Her aunt’s adamant retort was encouraging, but she wasn’t sure it was realistic. “How can you be sure?”

  “Because you aren’t the way you were before.” Aunt Eileen leaned over the armrest of the sofa to clasp Angela’s hand. “When you asked Jesus into your heart, He washed you clean. He made you holy. Now you just have to walk like you believe it.”