A Merry Little Christmas

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A Merry Little Christmas Page 18

by Melanie Schuster


  “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I turned the heat down. Since you’re from Atlanta, I thought you might be cold, I guess.”

  Angelique looked more intrigued than angry. “I’m from Atlanta? How long have I lived here?”

  “About eight months.”

  “Did I move up here by myself? Do I have a family in Atlanta?” she asked curiously.

  Suddenly Donnie’s heart turned over. Poor baby, she had no memory of anything about who she was and where she came from. “I’ll make you a deal. You let me take a shower and get dressed and I’ll tell you anything you want to know. How’s that?”

  She gave him a sly smile and stared at his long, strong legs and broad chest. “Well, if you just have to cover up that gorgeous body, I guess it’s okay.” She moved slowly toward him and licked her lips. “You don’t have to get dressed on my account, though. You can wear a lot less if you want.” By now she’d reached him and put her hands on his hips.

  Donnie found the strength to put his hands on her shoulders and gently guide her backward out of the room. “Cut that out. You’re not ready for what comes next.”

  “Because of a little bump on the head?” She pouted.

  “Yes! Yes, that’s right because of your head. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll make you a breakfast you’ll never forget and tell you anything you want to know,” he promised.

  When he finally emerged from the bedroom, he was attired similarly to Angelique in old baggy jeans, thick gray socks and a tattered Alpha sweatshirt. He walked down die hall and was stunned to smell something really appetizing coming from the kitchen. To his utter surprise and gratitude, he found Angelique putting crisp bacon on a layer of paper towels to drain. There was an aromatic smell of coffee mixed with the sweet smell of the maple-cured bacon. She then turned her attention to the thick slices of bread on the counter, dipping each one into an egg mixture to prepare it for French toast. The table was already set for two and the scene was one of total domestic tranquillity. The snow continued to rage, but inside it was like being in a fairy tale.

  “Angel, what is all this? I told you I was going to fix breakfast.”

  “I know you did but I wanted to surprise you. Why can I remember how to cook but I can’t remember anything else? Isn’t this weird?” She didn’t seem very concerned though, as she continued to work until the French toast was laid neatly on the grill.

  After the excellent repast, they sat facing each other across the table. Jordan and Pippen had long since given up on getting a handout and were asleep in the laundry room. Angelique looked quizzically at Donnie. “I thought you said it was March.”

  Donnie confirmed that it was indeed March.

  “I never knew it could snow this late in the year,” Angelique said She stared out the window, enthralled by what she saw. “It’s so pretty!”

  “That’s because you grew up in Georgia, baby. If you grew up here like I did you wouldn’t think it was so cute. And you’d be used to it—it’s not unusual for us to get a big dump of snow right before spring.”

  Angelique sipped the last of her coffee and looked at Donnie with a smile in her eyes. “Okay, I fed you. Now I’m going to clean up the kitchen and then you’re going to tell me who I am.”

  Donnie insisted on cleaning the kitchen and further insisted that Angelique lie down while he did it. He made a fire for her in the living room and she curled up on the sofa, enjoying the fragrant fire and the feeling of being cared for. When she woke up she was cuddled up in Donnie’s lap and he was asleep, with his long legs stretched out in front of him. She was warm and relaxed and perfectly content to stay where she was forever. There was something about being with this big, handsome man that eased all her fears and made her happy. She began to stroke his face softly, tracing his thick eyebrows, his high, defined cheekbones and his beautiful lips. His eyes opened slowly and locked on hers. They didn’t speak; they just stared into each other’s eyes. They were lost in each other, bound together in a long, timeless moment that spoke more loudly that any words could.

  “How long have we been married?” Angelique whispered. “Not very long. We got married on Valentine’s Day,” he answered. He didn’t really want to talk, but he knew it was a better idea than the alternative, which was to take her into the bedroom and make love to her until she screamed his name without stopping.

  “Did we have a big wedding? Was my family there? What about my family, anyway—do I have parents?”

  Donnie settled her more comfortably in his arms and began talking. “We eloped. Got married in Vegas on Valentine’s Day,” he said in a soft voice. “You’re from Atlanta. You have a mother named Lillian and a stepfather named Bill Williams. His nickname is Bump and he’s a famous jazz musician. Your mother is very beautiful and very sweet and your stepfather is a card. He’s one of the funniest men I ever met. He’s also my sister’s godfather; he’s been a friend of our family for a long time. You have four brothers and all of them are older than you. Clay is the oldest, then Martin and Malcolm, who are identical twins. Marcus is the youngest. All your brothers are married and you have a bunch of nieces and nephews. You’re the baby of the family and the only girl.” He rubbed his cheek against her soft, fragrant hair.

  “Four brothers,” she said with wonder. “What happened to my father? Are he and my mother divorced?”

  “No, baby, your father died when you were a little girl,” he said gently. “My mother died when I was a baby, so that’s something we have in common. I’m also the youngest in my family.” He proceeded to give her the Cochran family history.

  Angelique was fascinated by everything he told her. “How did we meet? Was it love at first sight?”

  Donnie laughed and assured her that it was nothing of the kind. “We met years ago when your brother Clay started dating my sister Benita. Everyone calls her Bennie except for me and my brothers and her husband. Anyway, the first time I saw you I thought you were beautiful and you thought I was a jerk and that was about it. We never got along, especially after you sabotaged Benita’s wedding shower,” he said carelessly.

  “After I what?” Angelique looked horrified and Donnie wished he’d never brought it up. “What did I do to her shower? Tell me, I need to know.”

  Hesitantly, Donnie told her that she had invited all of her brother’s old girlfriends to the shower, instead of inviting real guests. “It was just a prank, Angel, and it turned out fine. Benita’s so cool, she just made friends with everybody and it wasn’t a bad thing, not at all.”

  Angelique wasn’t buying it, though. “I don’t care what you say, Donnie, that was a horrible thing to do. I must be a terrible person,” she said quietly. “Your family must hate me.”

  “Angel, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you that. You may have tried to disrupt Benita’s shower, but you more than made up for it when she and Clay were separated.”

  “They were separated? Why?” she asked, wiping away moisture from her eyes.

  “It’s another long story. When she was pregnant with their first child she had to go to California on business. While she was out there a drunk driver hit the car she was riding in. She was terribly injured and she lost the baby and she and Clay blamed themselves for it. They were so eaten up with guilt that they stayed away from each other for months until you got them back together,” he told her.

  “I did? So maybe I’m not so bad after all?” She sounded so humble and hesitant that she won Donnie’s heart all over again.

  “Baby, you’re wonderful. My family loves you, especially my father. He calls you Babydoll and he thinks you’re spunky. He always liked you, especially after the shower incident; he thought it was funny as hell because he wasn’t too crazy about Benita marrying Clay.”

  Angelique’s eyes got big when he related this. “Does he like Clay now? He’s not still mad at him, is he?”

  Donnie said no. “No, my dad respects Clay and, in his own way, he loves him. Benita is happy, which is all that matters
to him. And she and Clay have some beautiful kids, so that makes him happy, too. My father used to be really possessive of Benita; she was his oldest and his only girl. Clay had to let him know what time it was and Pop had to deal with it.”

  He continued to hold her closely and nuzzle her cheek and neck as he spoke. “My nieces and nephews all love you. You’re wonderful,” he whispered and kissed her forehead, her cheeks and her chin.

  “So I moved to Michigan about eight months ago. Why did I come here?” She sat up a little so she could better see his face. “Was it because I missed you so much and wanted to be with you?”

  Donnie smiled at the eagerness in her voice. “Your cousin Paris Deveraux is doing an internship with our company because we’re partnered and all our executives train with both companies. So she’s up here now. And the man you were working for, Alan Jandrewski, moved back home to Detroit and you came with him. You and Paris were sharing a house before we got married,” he told her.

  Something about the way he said A.J.’s name made Angelique ask if she and this man had been involved. “No,” Donnie said emphatically. “You’re just good friends.”

  The familiar yearning for her took over him once again, engulfing his body in fiery sensation. He wanted her so bad, it was a physical ache, but he forced himself to behave. They couldn’t continue to hug and kiss like this if he was to keep the promise he made to himself not to touch her until her amnesia was gone. As if a brilliant idea had just occurred to him, he said, “Hey, we’d better call your cousin Paris and let her know what happened to you.”

  He gently placed her on the sofa and reached for the cordless phone on the coffee table. When he didn’t get a dial tone, he raised an eyebrow. “I wonder if the lines are down. I’d better go check.” He left the room and came back shortly, reporting that all the phones were dead. “So it’s cell phones or nothing.”

  Angelique nodded and patted the seat next to her on the sofa. “Well, so much for that. Come sit down and let’s talk some more,” she said in the seductive voice that was beginning to drive him nuts every time her heard it.

  “Better idea: let’s watch TV and find out what’s happening with the storm.” He picked up the remote and pointed it at the big flat-screen TV and tossed her the TV Guide.

  “Let’s watch a movie instead,” Angelique said. “Something hot and sexy. I’ll read the listings to you.” She opened the book and started to read out loud. She read slowly and haltingly, hesitating over each syllable and stumbling like she couldn’t see the words. She stopped and rubbed her hand across her eyes. “Wow. I must have hit my head harder than I thought.”

  Donnie was staring at her with concern in his eyes. “Well, the print’s really small in that. Here, try this,” he said, handing her an Ebony magazine.

  She smiled her thanks and tossed the offending Guide aside. “This is better,” she agreed and started reading again with the same results. This time her face puckered in concern and she stared helplessly at Donnie. “I think I’m going to go lie down for a while. My eyes are really bothering me, I guess.”

  Donnie agreed that a nap would be the best thing and he waited until she disappeared down the hall. He picked up his cell phone and hit the speed dial for Paris’s cell and was relieved when she answered.

  “Paris? This is Donnie and I wanted you to know that Angelique had a little accident last night. No, no, she’s fine, I think. She got bopped in the head with a hockey puck at Joe Louis Arena and she doesn’t really remember anything but the doctor says that it’s fairly normal in these cases. No, she’s not freaking out, she’s having a ball, actually. I just wanted to let you know what was going on.”

  After her chatty response, Donnie asked her the question that was uppermost in his mind “Paris, Angel tried to read something out loud and it was... well, it was like she couldn’t read very well. Do you know anything about that?” Paris was silent for a long moment, a moment during which Donnie’s anxiety built. Finally she started to speak.

  “Okay, pal, it’s time you knew this. Are you sitting down? If you aren’t, get a seat because this’ll take a minute.” In a short time she’d told him everything he needed to know.

  When Donnie got off the phone, he sat on the sofa and stared straight ahead, his eyes focused on nothing. He was still trying to process the information he’d been given. Paris had told him of Angelique’s severe dyslexia and he was both humbled and amazed by what he’d heard. Some things were beginning to click into place like the cylinders in a combination lock; he was beginning to understand a lot more about his wife. Now he could understand why she’d had such a giant chip on her shoulder, why she’d been so angry so much of the time. Some of the things Paris told him had appalled him, like the part about Angelique being sent away to boarding school. Some things had amazed him, as he realized the extent of her ability to cope.

  Paris had explained some of the things Angelique did to compensate for her reading ability. “Well, she’s very good with numbers, for one thing. But please, whatever you do, don’t call her Rainman. That’s what they used to call her in school and she doesn’t think it’s funny at all. She drives that Saab because it has OnStar, the system where your car talks to you. It gives her a lot more confidence driving because she knows she can call OnStar and get directions and roadside assistance and stuff. She has trouble with directions, that’s why she wears the silver bracelet on one arm and the gold one on the other, to help her remember right and left.” Her words left him stunned, but she had some advice for him, too.

  “The thing is, Donnie, Angel is very intelligent, but deep down inside she really thinks she’s stupid. Dyslexia means she learns differently, that her mind just works differently. Just try to imagine how your life would be if you couldn’t read very well. What kind of limitations would that put on you? But Angel always figures out a way to do something, she’s very determined and creative. Just don’t feel sorry for her or start treating her like she’s helpless, because she’s not. She’s unique.”

  Donnie lost track of time as he thought about what Paris had told him. Angelique was truly one of a kind. His admiration for her grew even more profound as he considered the impact the dyslexia had on her life. Suddenly it dawned on him where he could get more information and he hit the speed dial for Warren’s number.

  Warren answered the phone, sounding like he really didn’t want to be bothered. “What do you want, Cochran? I’m having a snow day with my sweetheart and it was very romantic until you called,” he complained.

  “Sorry about that, man.” He rapidly explained about Angelique’s bump on the head and his subsequent discovery that she was dyslexic. “I just need some more information about it, Warren. I feel really stupid but I don’t know a whole lot about dyslexia.”

  Warren was not only a medical doctor, he was a Ph.D. and head of the department of neurolinguistics in the College of Medicine at Wayne State University. His department specialized in the branch of linguistics that studied the relationship between language and the various functions of the nervous system. Developing teaching methodologies for learning disabilities like dyslexia was a part of that. Warren listened to Donnie’s concerns and told him he could get him some information. “As soon as the weather lets up we’ll get together and talk. In the meantime, you be good to Angel. I told you she was special and this proves it.”

  “Thanks for the information, Warren. And don’t worry about Angel and me. I know how special she is and I plan to let her know, too.”

  Warren pressed the end button on his cell phone and rejoined Lisette in her cozy kitchen. When he had attempted to leave the night before, she had insisted he stay, due to the terrible weather. And he had agreed as long as he stayed in her guest room, to her great disappointment. He stood in the doorway a moment and watched her work. She was making him a special dish her mother made often, a Senegalese dish called Chicken Yassa. She looked up from her work and gave him the radiant smile that never failed to make him melt inside.


  “Hello, my darling. Have you come to watch me?”

  He returned her smile and walked over to sit at the wooden table. “Honey, I never get tired of watching you, you know that. But I have to talk to you about something.” He told her what Donnie had related to him over the phone and waited for her response.

  “Oh, poor Angel. What a strange way for him to find out her deepest secret.” She sighed. “I knew about her dyslexia; she told me about it not too long after we met. She was so afraid he wouldn’t want her if he knew she was dyslexic. She really believes that it affects her intellect, not just her learning. I hope he has sense enough to treat her gently. If he were to make her feel bad because of this, I would... I would...”

  Warren interrupted her tirade to assure her that Donnie would do no such thing. “He told me last night, before her accident, that he loves her. He wants her happiness above anything, Lisette. He’ll be good to her.”

  Lisette’s eyes lit up and she left the counter and wrapped her arms around Warren’s neck, then sat down in his lap. “Oh, that’s wonderful.” She sighed. “Now they can be as happy as we are.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t see how,” he replied as he bent his eager mouth to her willing lips.

  When Angelique awoke, she felt odd. The pain in her head was almost gone and she felt refreshed but curiously disoriented. For some reason she was feeling uneasy and strange and she couldn’t figure out why. She looked around the room at the pictures she saw displayed and it suddenly hit her. She held up her left hand and stared at it. Everything was becoming clearer to her. She scooted up so her back was against the headboard and sat there deep in thought. That’s the way Donnie found her when he came to see how she was doing. He sat down on the side of the bed and looked at her troubled face.

  “Hey, there. You look deep in thought. What is it, Angel?” She returned his look of concern with a bleak expression. “We’re not really married are we?”

 

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