Promising Angela

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  “Give that to me right now!”

  Angela, making a demand.

  Mumbled voices answered. Their words were unclear, but the growling tones indicated anger.

  Ben stumbled forward, his heart pounding. The bouncing beam of the flashlight turned the trees into lunging monsters, but he kept going, determined to find Angela and protect her from—what? He didn’t know. He only knew he had to get to her quickly.

  The voices grew louder, an obvious argument ensuing. He let the sound guide him, his heart pounding harder with each step that brought him closer. He burst through several scrub bushes into a small clearing where a minuscule campfire sent out a weak flicker of light. Angela stood on one side of the fire; three people faced her from the other side. All four jumped and spun toward him as he charged onto the scene.

  “What’s going on here?” Ben swung the beam of the flashlight across the row of faces opposite Angela. He didn’t know any of them. They were young, teenagers probably.

  When they spotted Ben, one hollered, “Let’s go!” They took off through the trees.

  Ben started after them but changed his mind. He didn’t care about those boys. He’d come out here for Angela. Turning back, he saw her trot around the campfire and bend down to pick something up. The flashlight aimed at her, he approached, his brows crunched. “What is that?”

  She held it against her side for a moment, her face pale. Slowly she raised her hand, and Ben angled the flashlight beam on a plastic-wrapped bunch of crumpled brown leaves. Marijuana. Oh, Lord, no …

  He lifted his gaze from the packet to her face. Her wide eyes told everything he needed to know. He’d interrupted a drug deal.

  “Angela …” He shook his head, the disappointment sagging his shoulders. “How could you?”

  seventeen

  Angela took a stumbling step forward. The look of betrayal on his shadowed face stabbed her heart. “Ben! It isn’t what you think!”

  “What am I supposed to think?” he grated, his teeth clenched. “I come out here, worried about you, and I find you—I find you …” He released a groan.

  She grabbed his arm. “Ben, I didn’t come out here looking for drugs. I was just walking, thinking, trying to make sense of you and—” She stopped. There was no “you and me” where Ben and she were concerned. Drawing in a breath, she continued. “I saw the campfire, and I wondered who was here. I found those boys getting ready to make joints.”

  “So you decided to join them.”

  How his words stung! “No! Ben, listen to me. When I saw what they were doing, I tried to stop them.”

  Ben jerked his arm free, his gaze accusing. “I heard you asking for the marijuana, Angela. I heard you.”

  “Yes, I asked for it!”

  “Well, if you weren’t planning to use it, why did you ask them to give some to you?”

  Frustration welled. How could she make him understand? “I didn’t want them using it, making the same mistake I did, so I asked for it. Not for my use, but just to take it away! Ben, you have to believe me!”

  But he shook his head, backing away from her. “Once a drug user, always a drug user. You just couldn’t stay away from it.”

  His withdrawal hurt worse than anything she’d experienced before. Her chin quivered with the effort of holding back tears. What had she decided about Janine, Todd, and Alex? If they were her friends, they wouldn’t choose to hurt her. The same applied to Ben. He claimed to love her, yet all he did was hurt her. She couldn’t stay for one more minute in his presence.

  “Fine.” She shoved the packet of marijuana into her jacket pocket. “You don’t want to believe me? That’s fine. I’ve done everything I know to do to prove I’ve changed—to prove I’m not Kent and I won’t keep using drugs. But you don’t want to believe me! You’d rather go on thinking the worst, never taking a chance, never admitting that maybe—just maybe—you could be wrong.”

  Throwing her arms outward, she released a huff. “Okay, don’t believe me. Stephanie is right. It isn’t my problem, Ben, it’s yours. And you’re just going to have to deal with it.” She spun and headed for the trees.

  “Angela!”

  Ben’s angry voice didn’t slow her steps a bit.

  “Angela, it’s dark! You’ll get lost! Come back here!”

  “I got myself out here; I’ll get myself back!” She didn’t even turn around, just forged forward, her hands outstretched as she groped her way through the gray gloom. She heard Ben’s muffled voice, but she ignored him and continued her halting progress.

  Leaves crunched beneath her tennis shoes, the noise an assault to an otherwise peaceful night. She stomped along, determined to put as much space between herself and Ben as possible. Her chest ached with the desire to cry, but she set her chin and held the hurt inside. He’d made her cry for the last time. No more!

  After stumbling noisily forward for several minutes, she paused and listened. No footsteps followed her. Huffing from the effort of moving quickly through the dark, she leaned against a tree for a few moments of rest. She slipped her hands into her pockets, and she encountered the marijuana. The plastic bag crinkled beneath her palm, bringing a rush of memories.

  The remembrance of past times—filling her lungs with smoke, experiencing the sensation of floating, being part of a circle of acceptance—brought a flood of desire. Ben already thought she was a user; why not prove him right?

  It would be so easy to make a joint. The little squares of paper were scattered all over that area where she’d surprised the boys. She could sneak back there, circle around so Ben wouldn’t see. A few draws on a marijuana joint would wash away the pain Ben caused, wash away the feeling of failure, and carry her to a height of pleasure. Her fingers tightened on the packet as a war took place in her heart.

  Then she remembered another sensation of floating. Today, on the ropes, gliding from tree to tree while trusting Bruce and Ben to keep her safe. Bruce’s words filled her head. Let God hold you up. Dropping to her knees on the leaves, Angela lowered her head and poured out her heart to God. She begged Him to remove the desire for drugs once and for all. Then she thanked Him for the opportunity to prove her promise was sincere. Finally, her thoughts turned to Ben.

  “God, I don’t know what to do about Ben. I love him, but loving him hurts too much. You can take the desire for drugs away. Please take the desire for Ben away, too.” She remained on her knees for several more minutes, absorbing the peacefulness of one-on-one time with her heavenly Father. The chill from the ground made her shiver, and she rose clumsily to her feet. Raising her face to the star-studded sky, she whispered a “thank You” for God’s endless presence, and then she continued her progress toward camp. Before long, she spotted the glow of the bonfire and heard voices raised in song.

  There was one important thing left to do. Her heart pounding, she made her way out of the trees. She glanced over her shoulder. Ben was still back there somewhere. Her heart ached. As much as she still loved him, his actions had proven he would never trust her. Trying to win Ben’s approval was a losing battle—one she no longer had the energy to fight.

  “Good-bye, Ben,” she whispered, then walked slowly to the group gathered around the bonfire. She looked for Robyn and Stephanie and located Stephanie first. She worked her way through the group to Stephanie’s side and crouched beside her. Tapping the woman’s shoulder, she whispered, “Stephanie? I need to make a phone call. Could you come with me, please?”

  Without a word of question, Stephanie rose. The pair walked in silence to the dormitories.

  Ben made sure the small campfire was completely extinguished before turning back toward the group. His steps felt heavy, labored, and he knew it had nothing to do with the late hour and tiredness from a busy day. The weight of Angela’s betrayal wore him down. Once a drug user, always a drug user—isn’t that what he’d said? Yet seeing it proved true hurt more than he had imagined. His journey through the trees seemed to take hours—hours of painful reflection.
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  All of the pleasant images from the day now disappeared, replaced by the sight of Angela standing, shamefaced, with a packet of marijuana in her hand. He shook his head, a feeble attempt to clear the image from his memory, but it remained, permanently imbedded in his mind. And she had taken it with her—stuffed it in her jacket pocket and stormed away.

  He replayed that moment of her slipping the marijuana into her pocket over and over. If only he could change the scene. Why hadn’t he leaped forward, snatched the packet away from her, and flung it into the fire? Instead, he’d stood there stupidly and let her walk away with it. Which meant Angela was now in possession of marijuana.

  Drugs were in violation of camp rules—a cause for immediate dismissal. One word to the campground administrator, and Angela would be sent packing. More importantly, drug possession was a clear violation of her parole. If he contacted her parole officer, her community service would end immediately. She would serve the remainder of her sentence in a detention facility.

  His feet scuffed through dried leaves and pine needles as he moved forward, the beam of the flashlight bouncing ahead. He stared at the beam, his thoughts tumbling haphazardly through his confused mind. The remainder of the weekend would be less stressful for him if he didn’t have to see her. One word—just one word—and she’d be returned to Petersburg in disgrace. His chest contracted painfully. Could he do that to her even if it meant having the weekend free of her presence? What a price to pay for his own comfort.

  And if he told the administrator, Bruce would contact the authorities. Drugs were illegal. Bruce would be obligated to tell. Then Angela wouldn’t be at New Beginnings anymore.

  That wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing, he told himself. How much easier work would be if he didn’t have to see her, be tortured daily by the rush of love and desire that struck with every glimpse of her. Surely if she weren’t a part of his everyday routine, he would be able to free himself of the love that had grown for her. Or would he?

  The wavering flashlight beam swung back and forth, illuminating the path. His thoughts swung back and forth, illuminating nothing. Turn her in—it’s the right thing to do. Don’t turn her in—it’s a selfish thing to do.

  He wanted to do the right thing, but the right thing for whom? Turning her in would solve his own problem of having to see her every day. Not turning her in, while giving her a temporary reprieve, would only enable her to continue in drug use.

  So turning her in was right for both of them … wasn’t it?

  “Lord, what do I do?” He spoke the words aloud, his anguished thoughts causing his stomach to churn.

  Voices and soft laughter drifted through the evening air. He was nearly back to the bonfire. He had to make a decision.

  What if he left it to chance? His heart thudded at his own variation of Russian roulette. If he spotted Bruce first, he’d turn Angela over to him. If he spotted Angela first, he’d try to find another way to set things right.

  He reached the clearing where people were picking up napkins and crumpled Styrofoam cups, dashing the bonfire with water, and preparing to go back to the dormitories. He scanned the crowd, but he didn’t find Angela or Bruce. His heart picked up its tempo. Had she sneaked back to the dorms to make a marijuana cigarette? The smell would certainly alert everyone. He needed to find her, warn her.

  That impulse convinced him he didn’t want to turn her in. Although he knew it was wrong to keep secret what he’d discovered, a part of him wanted to give Angela one more chance. One more chance to do the right thing. His breath came in spurts out of his nose as he trotted past the groups moving slowly toward the dormitories.

  He prepared an ultimatum as he hurried to locate Angela. If she would give him the marijuana, he would dispose of it and keep it secret. But he would make sure she understood if she chose to purchase drugs again, she was on her own. He wouldn’t interfere a second time. This would be a one-shot deal. He hoped she’d take it.

  As he neared the dorms, beams from a pair of headlights appeared on the lane leading to the campsite. Ben’s steps slowed as the car rolled to a stop directly in front of the women’s dormitory. His heart skipped a beat when he recognized the insignia on the driver’s door. A sheriff’s vehicle.

  Someone had already discovered Angela had marijuana! So his ultimatum wouldn’t be offered after all. Relief and regret mingled in his chest. Though greatly relieved he hadn’t had to be the one to make the call, he regretted that it was necessary at all. If only he’d been wrong. If only she hadn’t gone looking for drugs tonight …

  He stopped, watching as the officer turned off the headlights and stepped out of his vehicle. “Hey, what’s going on?” someone behind him asked. The others had caught up and stood in small clusters on the grass outside the dorms.

  Ben didn’t answer. He wanted no role in Angela’s downfall.

  The sheriff, standing in the V of the open car door, rested his forearm on the top of the vehicle and called, “I’m looking for Angela Fisher.”

  A mumble of voices sounded behind Ben. His heart twisted in sympathy. How humiliating for her to be summoned this way. He longed to protect her, yet he knew he was powerless. She’d made her choice. Just like Kent, she’d have to suffer the consequences.

  The dormitory door opened, throwing a splash of light across the concrete sidewalk. The glint of gold in her tangled curls resembled a halo. “I’ve never been called an angel,” she’d said at supper the night before. Ben’s heart ached.

  He watched her straighten her shoulders, tossing her gilded curls. “I’m Angela.”

  eighteen

  The sheriff turned toward Angela as the crowd surged forward, curiosity driving them closer to the action. Whispered questions and suppositions floated through the throng, but Ben shut out those voices and concentrated on the sheriff.

  Angela met the man halfway between the car and the dormitory. A circle of light from an overhead lantern illuminated the pair, showing the sheriff’s stern expression and Angela’s pale face. She extended her hands toward him, palms up. Ben held his breath. Did she expect the sheriff to handcuff her? But then he saw that her hands weren’t empty. The bag of marijuana rested on her open palms.

  “Here you are.” Her voice was strong, carrying over the mutters behind him.

  Another flurry of voices broke out.

  “What is it?”

  “I think it’s some sort of drug.”

  “Where would she have gotten that?”

  Ben took a step forward, an attempt to block the voices behind him. He needed to hear the sheriff and Angela.

  The sheriff took the packet and turned it over in his hands, a scowl pinching his eyebrows. “Well, you were right. It certainly appears to be marijuana.”

  Ben’s jaw nearly dropped. Based on the sheriff’s words, Angela must have alerted him herself. But she wouldn’t have done that if—

  The sheriff continued. “Is this all of it?”

  Angela’s shoulder lifted in a slight shrug. “I don’t know if there was more. This is all they dropped.”

  “Dropped?”

  “Yes, sir. When the boys ran off, they left this behind. I just picked it up.”

  The sheriff reached into his breast pocket and removed a small pad and pencil. He flipped the pad open and looked at Angela. “How did you happen to join these boys?” The sheriff’s sharp tone made Ben cringe, but Angela straightened her shoulders and faced the man squarely.

  “I was taking a walk, doing some thinking. I had no idea anyone else was out there when I started my walk. I heard laughter and saw a fire. I was curious, so I approached them. It was just … coincidence.”

  “So you had no intention of using the drugs?”

  Angela’s gaze flitted briefly to the listening crowd. Her face looked pale, yet there was a calmness in her eyes that spoke of strength. “To be honest, sir, when I saw what they had, I was tempted. There was a time when I found a release in drugs. But I’m not that person anymore. I made a pro
mise to God that I would never use drugs again. I intend to keep that promise.”

  The sheriff gave a brusque nod. “And you don’t know who these boys are?”

  “No. This is my first time at Camp Fellowship. I’m from Petersburg, and I don’t know any of the local families.” Her face crunched for a moment, her head tipping to spill curls across her shoulder. “I got the impression from their behavior, though, that the boys had been at that location before. They seemed familiar with the area.”

  Ben felt his heart beat in his temples. Thinking of the campfire he’d extinguished, he realized Angela was right. The amount of ashes within the circle of rocks, and the scattering of old cans and bottles in the little clearing, indicated more than one party had taken place out there.

  “Could you find the clearing again, if need be?”

  “Yes, sir. I believe so.”

  Ben nodded. He could help.

  “Do you suppose you could give a description of the boys?” the sheriff asked.

  Angela’s face pinched into a thoughtful frown. “It was pretty dark, but I think I could. It might not be very accurate, though.”

  The swell of voices behind Ben started again, covering the descriptions Angela provided while the sheriff wrote on the notepad. The sheriff finished his scribbling then looked at Angela again. “While I appreciate you calling this in, your past history does give me reason to question your lack of involvement.”

  Angela nodded, her head low. Ben’s heart ached at the dejected, shame-filled pose. It ached more when he realized he’d treated her just as the sheriff was now.

  The sheriff asked, “Were any other campers around who could substantiate your story?”

  Without a second thought, Ben stepped forward. “Sir.” He waited until the sheriff looked at him. Angela didn’t move. “I was out there, too.”

  The sheriff angled his pen against the pad. “You are?”