By the time Sunday afternoon arrived, he’d have his answers. No matter what it took.
nine
Ben trotted across the parking area to catch Angela before she climbed behind the wheel of the silver rocket. Amazing how fast she could move through the muggy August heat on those high-heeled strappy shoes.
“Whew, I caught you!” He came to a halt beside the driver’s door and grabbed the frame before she could pull it closed.
“Did you need something?”
The apprehension in her gaze troubled him, but he pushed the feeling aside. “Yeah. I wondered if you had lunch plans.”
She shrugged. “Not really. Why?”
“Want to go somewhere?” He shrugged, too, feeling as tongue-tied as a nervous teenager. “Grab a bite with me?”
She looked at him for a long time, her expression puzzled, while he squirmed under the silent perusal. Finally she sighed. “I should probably call Aunt Eileen and make sure it’s okay.”
He waved a hand. “That’s fine. I’ll wait.” He turned his back and pretended not to listen to the one-sided conversation.
“Aunt Eileen? Hi, I just wondered if it would be okay if I didn’t come back to the apartment for lunch…. I’m not sure. Ben asked if I’d like to get something with him. No, it probably won’t be too late.” She laughed softly, causing fresh sweat to break out under his arms. Why did he wish she’d use that soft tone with him? “Sure, I can be quiet when I come in. I know you and Roscoe like your Sunday afternoon nap. Okay, see you soon. Bye.”
He turned around in time to see her snap the phone closed, smiling to herself. When she looked up and met his gaze, her smile faded. “Where did you want to go?”
The need to bring the smile back hit him hard. He reminded himself of the purpose of this lunch. “I like that little submarine shop on Fourth and Main. Have you been there?” He knew it wasn’t fancy, but the high backs on the booths provided a small measure of privacy. And they had a mean cherry cheesecake—perfect comfort food.
She shrugged again, the curls that fell across her shoulders bouncing with the movement. “That’s fine. I’ll meet you there.” Without another word, she closed her door and started the engine.
He stepped back to allow her passage then jogged to his truck. He chuckled to himself as he turned the key in the ignition. If she drove as quickly as she walked, she’d be there long before he was. Fortunately, he was able to pass a vehicle and fall in behind her. They pulled between slanting white lines and got out at the same time.
He double-stepped past her to open the door to the sub shop. The sweet rush of air-conditioning carried a yeasty smell that made Ben’s stomach writhe in desire. He noticed Angela draw in a deep breath, too.
They placed their orders at the serving counter, and then he carried their tray of sandwiches, chips, and drinks to a booth tucked in the corner. The sun glared on the large plate-glass window, but the vent overhead whirred, promising to keep them cool.
Ben waited until Angela slid in on one side, tucking her skirt underneath her in a feminine manner. He put the tray down and sat across from her, careful to keep his big feet well back. Once he was settled, he said, “Would you like me to pray?”
She nodded in reply, and he closed his eyes and offered a short blessing. He handed her the paper-wrapped sandwich marked “turkey/provolone” and took the one with “roast beef/cheddar” written on the wrapper. They each opened a small bag of chips and began munching.
After allowing her time to take a few bites, Ben rested his elbows on the edge of the table and said, “So have you lived in Petersburg your whole life?”
Angela blotted her lips with her napkin. “Yes, I was born here.” She took another bite.
“Is it a good place to grow up?”
She swallowed, blotted again, and answered, “I suppose. I don’t have anything to compare it with. Where did you grow up?”
“A half hour south of here, in Liberal.”
“What brought you to Petersburg?”
Ben realized he was getting sidetracked. Again. His intention was to find out about Angela, not for Angela to find out about him. But he couldn’t be rude and not answer. He gave her the shortened version. “A job and Elmwood Towers.”
At her confused look, he laughed and expanded the information. “I heard about the assisted-living apartments at Elmwood Towers and applied for Kent to move into one. When I helped him move in, I met your aunt Eileen, who told me Philip Wilder was looking for a new manager since she’d given up the position to be a resident caretaker at the Towers.” He shrugged. “It was just the kind of job I wanted, and my degree in social services qualified me. God worked it all out.”
She nodded slowly.
“Do you have a college degree?”
Her face pinched as though the question pained her, and she set her sandwich down, smoothing the paper wrapper flat against the table. “Yes, I do. But it isn’t in social services.” She didn’t offer further explanation.
Ben headed in another direction, one he was certain would open up the door to understanding. “I haven’t seen your friend for a while.”
She tipped her head. “Friend?”
“Yeah. The man who visited you a couple of weeks ago … I didn’t catch his name.”
Immediately she lowered her gaze, tucking her lower lip between her teeth. He knew he’d hit upon a tender spot.
“Is your relationship with him … significant?” His heart pounded while he waited for a response. But he assured himself the thudding evidenced the depth of his curiosity, nothing more.
Without looking up, she said, “Significant but short-term.”
The cryptic reply only increased his interest in the subject. He forced a light chuckle. “You know that already, huh?”
She flashed a quick look at him. “Yes. I know that.” Sighing, she pushed her food away and raised her chin to meet his gaze directly. “Ben, what’s your motive for inviting me here?”
He felt heat climb his neck. If he answered honestly, she’d no doubt run out the door. But he couldn’t lie to her and say he had no reason. Words wouldn’t form on his tongue. He sat in tense silence, feeling trapped beneath her gaze.
After several long seconds, she released another, regret-filled sigh. “I know what you’re trying to get me to tell you. And to be perfectly honest, I’m tired of sneaking around. You want the truth, Ben? Here it is …”
Angela saw Ben’s shoulders stiffen, and it furthered her belief that he’d simply been sitting there, information tucked neatly away, waiting for her to confirm what he already knew. Okay, Lord, here I go….
She continued, deliberately keeping her gaze fixed on Ben’s penetrating blue eyes. “That man who came to see me isn’t a boyfriend. He isn’t even a friend. He’s my court-appointed probation officer. He came that day to administer a random drug test. I will have at least three more of them before my sentence is up. I have to submit to them because I was convicted of illegal drug use.”
Ben’s eyebrows shot so high they almost became part of his short-cropped hairline. He did a good job of looking surprised; she’d give him that.
“I was given a one-year sentence, part of which was a requirement to go to a rehabilitation center. I’ve been through drug rehab, but I have to serve ten months of community service. I’m doing that at New Beginnings.” Her mouth felt dry. She lifted her soda cup and took a drink. Ben remained silent, his face unreadable, as she continued.
“You want more truth? My life was hardly lily-white before I got caught. I’ve done a lot of stupid things, starting in high school. Drinking, skipping school, and—as you’ve already figured out—enjoying the company of men.”
Ben’s neck blotched red, and she felt her own face flood with fire as she recognized his interpretation of her confession. She leaned forward. “I never did anything. I wasn’t that stupid! But I teased a lot. Enjoyed it, too—the power of it.” She released a rueful laugh. “Between my mama’s good looks and my dad
dy’s money, there weren’t too many boys who weren’t interested in spending time with me.”
The shame of her past hit again, shrinking her into the seat. She lowered her gaze. “I got my college degree in art history just because I knew it was something that would irritate my dad. He thought it was a waste of time and money. And he was right, because I have no desire to do anything with it. But at least when he was ranting at me, he wasn’t ignoring me.”
She shrugged, shifting her gaze to peer out the window at the sunshiny day. Watching two sparrows battle over a crumb on the sidewalk, she finished. “And that’s why I started using the drugs. I thought maybe Dad would—I don’t know—rescue me. That’s all I really wanted—a dad to rescue me.”
Ben didn’t say anything in response. After a few moments of silence, she looked at him. The censure in his eyes stung like a lash. She dropped her gaze to the tabletop so she wouldn’t have to see his expression. But it burned in her memory.
Eyes downcast, she finished in a hoarse whisper. “So there you have it, Ben. All my ugly secrets.” Suddenly a wave of courage washed over her. Although she had no desire to be subjected to his disdain, she needed him to see her face when she spoke the final truth. She lifted her face and met his steely gaze.
“But you know what? The drug use finally got me what I wanted—Someone to rescue me. Only it wasn’t my dad who did it, it was my Father. God rescued me, Ben. I met His Son, and I invited Him into my heart. I’ve got Him now, and even though I made a total mess of things, He loves me anyway. And I won’t ever let Him down by doing something so stupid as abusing my body again.”
Ben still didn’t say anything. There was something indefinable lurking behind his blue-eyed gaze. Disappointment, certainly, but something else. Something deeper. Suddenly Angela didn’t want to pursue it.
“Thank you for the sandwich, but I’ve got to go.” Her dignity in shreds, she slipped from the booth and ran out of the restaurant. As she pulled away from the curb, she saw Ben, still in the booth, staring outward. She blinked to clear the tears from her vision and forced her gaze forward.
Back at the apartment, she nearly ran through the foyer, her heels clicking a rapid tempo against the tile floor. Two residents called hello from the seating area. She raised a hand in a quick wave and charged into the elevator without pausing to chat. She held her breath, her chest so tight she thought she might explode. Not until she’d sealed herself in Aunt Eileen’s apartment did she finally release the air she’d been holding.
And tears followed. Rivers of tears accompanied by huge, gulping sobs that doubled her over. She collapsed on the sofa, curled into a ball, and let the torrent run its course. Not since her first night in drug rehab had she cried this hard. She wasn’t even sure why she was crying; she just knew the emotions couldn’t be held back.
When the tears were spent, she stumbled to the bathroom and used several tissues to clean her face and blow her nose. Her head ached, and she fumbled around in the medicine cabinet until she located a bottle of aspirin. When she’d swallowed two of them with some water, she wandered back into the hallway.
Aunt Eileen’s door was cracked open, and through the slit she spotted her aunt’s bare feet sticking out from under a light blanket. Roscoe, at the end of the bed, raised his head and peered at her with round, yellow eyes. He offered a short
meow, yawned, and lay back down.
Carefully she pulled the door all the way closed, relieved she hadn’t wakened her aunt. Back in the living room, she curled in the recliner. Ben’s face—with shocked disapproval in his eyes—appeared once more in her memory. Not even when she’d told him the good that had come of her drug abuse conviction, not even when she’d promised to never use drugs again, had his expression cleared.
Her head throbbed, and she massaged her temples. Closing her eyes, she whispered aloud, “Oh, Jesus, please replace Ben’s face with Yours in my head. Remind me that You’ve forgiven me. Remind me that You love me unconditionally.”
Another spurt of tears accompanied the simple prayer. But they weren’t tears of anguish. They were tears of gratitude. Because Jesus answered.
ten
Ben remained in the booth, too stunned to get up. Only dimly aware of the chatter of other patrons, the hum of the air-conditioning, and the slow-moving traffic on the street outside the window, he sat replaying Angela’s words.
She’d used drugs.
She’d been through drug abuse rehabilitation.
She’d said she wouldn’t abuse her body that way again.
He shook his head. Oh, yes, she would. How many times had Kent gone through rehab? At least three. And every time he returned to the crutch of drug use. He was drug free now, but not from choice. He simply no longer had access to people who could provide drugs to him.
Except for Angela.
A part of Ben wanted to kick himself for even thinking Angela might provide drugs to Kent, yet the greater part of him—the part that had learned to protect his cousin—overrode the other. If Angela had used drugs in the past, she knew how to get them. If she knew how to get them, she knew how to share them.
He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and fingers, trying to ignore the memory of her pleading eyes as she’d told him of her acceptance of Christ into her heart. Evidence of growth had been seen in the past weeks, especially since she’d begun attending church regularly. She certainly had the pull of God on her heart. But …
Ben hung his head, his chest tightening with the knowledge of how hard the tug of drugs could be. Hadn’t he seen it with Kent? Kent had struggled against it, had vowed to give it up, had remained drug free for weeks, even months, at a time … but always, always, he’d gone back to the old habit.
It wasn’t as if Ben believed drugs were stronger than God. He knew better. But he wasn’t sure Angela was strong enough in her new faith to resist the habit. With wooden movements, he piled the half-eaten sandwiches and crumpled chips wrappers on the tray and carried it to the trash can.
When he got in his truck, he realized he didn’t want to go home. The empty apartment held no appeal. He considered driving to Elmwood Towers and seeing if Kent wanted to go for a ride, but the fear of running into Angela made him nix that idea. Starting his engine, he pulled into the street and drove aimlessly. By force of habit, he turned on familiar streets and ended up at New Beginnings.
To his surprise, Philip’s motorcycle sat in the parking area behind the warehouselike building. Curious, he pulled in next to the cycle and entered the building through the back door.
Philip looked up from his desk when Ben slammed the door. His face creased into a puzzled frown. “Hey, what are you doing here on a Sunday afternoon?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing.” Ben dropped into the plastic chair facing his boss’s desk. “Since when do you work on Sundays?”
Philip released a low chuckle and leaned back in his chair. He linked his fingers behind his head and rocked slightly, yawning. “I don’t. But my lovely wife had a brainstorm about a fund-raising carnival for the winter Special Olympics, and I needed to check my schedule to see where it could be penciled in.”
Ben glanced at the desk calendar in the middle of Philip’s messy desk. Every square inch held scribbled reminders. “I assume you discovered you aren’t available?”
Another chuckle. “I discovered I’m a busy man—as if I didn’t already know it.” He rocked in his chair, its squeaky springs loud in the quiet room. “So what are you doing here? I’m pretty sure Marin didn’t give you any ideas to pursue.”
Ben offered a small grin. “No, although I’ll help in whatever way I can. I’m hoping Kent will participate in the winter Olympics basketball game, and maybe some of the wheelchair races in next summer’s Special Olympics.”
“That’d be great,” Philip said. He brought his arms down and draped his elbows on the chair arms. “Angela mentioned he’s been visiting the weight room at the Towers, and he’s gone walking with her
in the evenings after it has cooled down a bit. Sounds as if he’s getting out a lot more.”
The reminder of Angela spending time with Kent brought a new stab of worry. “Hey, Philip, I’m glad I caught you here. I need to talk to you about Angela.” He paused, his gaze swinging through the empty building. It seemed sad and almost lonely with the normally busy stations devoid of clients and absent of Angela’s bright hair and beaming smile. Turning back to Philip, he said, “She told me today why she’s in community service.”
Philip nodded, one eyebrow quirked. “I’m not surprised. I wondered how long she’d be able to keep it from you.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk, and fiddled with a pen. “I’ve gotten the impression pleasing you has become pretty important to Angela—and not just because you’re her supervisor.”
Ben pulled his lips into a scowl. “If she’d like to please me, she should stay away from Kent.”
Philip’s hand stilled on the pen. “Has she mistreated Kent in some way?”
“As far as I know, she hasn’t,” Ben answered truthfully. “But that doesn’t mean she won’t.”
Philip shook his head hard, a teasing grin twitching. He began rolling the pen beneath his palms. “You’re going to have to elaborate on that comment. You just lost me.”
Ben puffed his cheeks and blew. “She’s an addict, Philip. She uses drugs.”
“She was a drug user. Past tense.” Philip’s calm rejoinder did little to reassure Ben.
“I’m not so sure past tense exists when it comes to the addiction of drug use.” Ben’s heart clenched with his statement. He wished so much it weren’t true.
“So you’re saying Angela’s profession of faith is fake?”
Ben looked sharply at Philip. “Her profession of faith has nothing to do with it.”
“Ben!” A brief huff of laughter burst out. “It has everything to do with it.”
Unable to find the words to express his thoughts, Ben sat silently.
Promising Angela Page 7