Like Slow Sweet Molasses

by Like Slow Sweet Molasses

  Angela crawled quietly from the bed to search the darkness for her sleepwear. The feelings running rampart felt much like the earth abruptly disintegrating under her feet. She knew impact would be a killer. She sidled past him on her way to lick her wounds in private. Only his hand on her forearm stayed her. “Chance, please,” she wheezed humiliated.

  A snappy release allowed him to slip his tee over his head. Angela’s move came too late for she was once again his prisoner. She stood mortified. His conversation never ceased.

  “Tina, you can belittle my parenting skills later. For now, tell me what Kelsy’s done to force you to break your silent treatment?” He heard Angela’s sigh of relief and searched her eyes in the dimness as details froze the phone to his hand.

  Angela’d seen that look of fright on his face one time before—when he thought she’d die from her allergic reaction. He released her to pace the hallway pausing long enough to ram his fist into the wall. Chance flagged her off when she attempted to soothe his throbbing hand, using the same one to tousle his dark hair.

  “When did you last see her?” He shook the pain away. “Does she have cash or a credit card?”

  Angela got the gist of his troubles.

  “Wait, Tina! My other line is ringing!” Chance slapped her on hold to brusquely answer the new call. “Kelsy?” An empty hope sounded in his voice. “It’s Kelsy!” he said excitedly to Angela who gave him a timid smile. “Baby, are you alright?”

  His voice droned on as Angela, choosing to make herself ready for immediate departure for the airport, burglarized his private conversations. She tiptoed to place a supportive kiss on his cheek and left him to the business at hand of gleaning the information needed to formulate his plan of attack. Her traipse through the kitchen lasted long enough to start the coffee brewing as she now stood poised at the shower hearing music in the beat of the running water in the enclosure.

  “I’m sorry, Angel. I have to leave.” His voice startled her causing a chain reaction of the loving kind.

  Angela’s eyes zeroed in on his transmitting spears of desire through the bathroom mirror. She yearned for his embrace as reassurance of their mushrooming romance. Her body tingled as he started in her direction. The heat generated as the distance melted flushed her inside and out. His hand at her waist sizzled the skin clean through her nightshirt as he turned her to face him.

  Chance gathered Angela in his rock solid arms and sampled her sugary kisses. He savored them like he couldn’t get enough. “That’ll have to hold me until I get back.”

  “I’ll take you to the airport,” she mumbled, excitement building for his lips still pressed on hers.

  He kissed her lovingly.

  “No. I’ll take you to the hospital. Say my good-byes to your parents. From there I’ll take a taxi to the airport.”

  “Where is she, Chance?”

  “Right now she’s between Amarillo and Wichita Falls.” He felt like dismantling something as he grated, “On a bus.” Angela, reading the signs, rushed passed him and returned from the bedroom with a throw pillow she handed to him. Without a second thought, Chance popped the seam as easily as if he opened a bag of chips, tossing the innards helter-skelter.

  “You’re meeting her?”

  “Yes. In Wichita Falls. The police department there has been alerted and will be on the lookout for her at the bus depot. They are to detain her until I arrive.”

  “Detain her?” she exclaimed in horror.

  “She’s a sixteen year-old who needs to learn the consequences of her actions.” He was livid by this point.

  “Chance, she’s a child. To have her detained like a common criminal is cruel and inhumane punishment.” He cocked her a sneer. “You can’t be serious,” she pleaded humbly.

  “Angela, of course not. I…am…angry, mind you, but not the sadistic ass I appear to be at this moment.” He tapped under her chin as had become his habit instigating his cool down.

  Her body relaxed. “Are you all set? Your reservations are made?”

  “I have a four and a half hour flight from here to Amarillo with an open-end flight back home.”

  “Then you’re all set,” she soothed with his face cupped in her hands. “We’d better put a rush on things.” Next, she pulled his face down to hers to give him a comforting kiss, parted from him, shed her shirt and stepped into the shower.

  Chance imitating Angela, stripped and followed her into the hot, steamy mist.

  Angela broke into a wide grin at the sight of Lee sitting in a chair one day after regaining consciousness. “You’re up!” she exclaimed.

  “I am, but, you shouldn’t be. Where is he? Did you run him off?”

  Chance entered carrying a morning paper under one arm and a gigantic cup of designer coffee for Connie in time to see Angela flash a “be quiet” signal to Lee by forcefully snapping together the tips of her index fingers and thumbs. His roar drew all eyes to him. “I’m here, Lee.”

  “You’re early,” he sounded cross. To Angela he chastised, “Don’t you crab-claw me!”

  “Easy, Daddy.” She tipped over to rub the top of his head while planting a kiss to the spot. “Morning, Mama.” Angela pecked her mother’s cheek.

  Connie reclined on the divan under a blanket and smiled along with her cheery greeting. “Morning, Cookie. Brock.”

  “Good morning, Connie.” His tone was cautious and chipper which is the reason he experienced a pang of guilt. Here he was in the company of his new love and her family when his family needed him elsewhere.

  Angela witnessed the conflicting emotions shading his features and strolled over to unburden him. She relieved him of his packages prior to taking his hands in hers. “You need to get going.”

  “You’re right. I just hate leaving you.”

  “You’re not leaving me, Chance,” she corrected with genuine concern that left no question of her sincerity. “You’re rescuing Kelsy.”

  A provocative silence reminded him of their whereabouts coercing an explanation. “Folks, I have a teenage Angelaesque of my own who’s in the middle of a rebellious mutiny that only a father can squash. That’s why I’m rushing off.”

  Lee and Connie gazed in unabashed interest giving sly looks as Chance broke Angela’s hold to crush her to his chest. A longing sigh escaped the deepest caverns of his heart warning them of his feelings.

  “Another good sign about you,” Lee complimented Chance. “Go do what only a father can do;scold her, kiss her boo-boo, make whatever “it” is alright. We’ll look out for this one.”

  “Daddy, you’ve got that backwards. I’ll look out for you,” Angela said while wrapping Chance’s waist even tighter. “Be careful, okay?”

  “I will, Angel. You take care of you. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  The look she saw on his face heightened her guilt although no one in the room knew she was concocting a plan. “What does that mean?” she asked defensively.

  “What are you up to, Angela?” Her reaction enticed red flags to flap.

  “Time is precious, Lieutenant.”

  “Don’t use trick mirrors on me, Angel.” He plopped a juicy kiss on her mouth. “Subterfuge is what I combat for a living.”

  “That’s odd,” she countered. “I thought your field was forensics.”

  “As an officer of the law, I dabble where I’m needed.”

  She pushed off. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not being honest with me about what you do?”

  Old suspicions pawed their way into their midst. The touchy-feely session was over for both heard the fabric of their relationship rip. Whether irreparable or not, now was not the time to discover the truth. It was Connie who attempted to take away the sting.

  “Listen at you two. You’re both so deeply buried under a blanket of worry right now that you’re letting it control your emotions. Your relationship is young and needs nurturing. If it can’t withstand a little adversity at the start it’s doomed to suffer a quick demise.” Connie sat on
the edge of the couch real close to her husband. “Maybe that’s best.” Her words were pellets stinging their flesh as she reminisced of her own failed mixed relationship. “Or…if what you feel is love then it’s worth the fight.”

  Chance snatched Angela to the other side of the curtain out of the older couple’s view to ravage her lips. “I love you, Angela. Please, don’t shut me out.”

  Angela fought her conscience into submission. “We’ll discuss this at a more appropriate time, Chance. I love you, too and have confidence in my feelings for you.”

  His hand cupped the back of her head for one last succulent kiss before he disappeared out of the door and out of her sight. Knowing what was in store when she dared to part the curtain, Angela dotted her lips, smoothed her clothing and stepped out like someone on ice skates for the first time. Feigning ignorance to the reasons for their stares permitted her to set about tidying up which was really busy work to occupy her mind. Finally, tired of the oppressive silence she cut to the chase.

  “Mama, I’ll stay with Daddy while you go home to rest.”

  “It’s written all over your face, Cookie—that ebullient look love leaves behind,” Connie said. “This Brock Alexander must be some kind of man to break down the barriers erected around your heart.”

  “The amazing thing—he weakened my resolve on our very first meeting. He angered and impressed me all in one encounter.” Her parents grinned. “What?”

  “Can you weed out past hurts and not prejudge or resort to stereotyping?” her father asked.

  “Chance knows my not-so-stellar history in the love department. I’ve been brutally honest with him about the interactions surrounding those feelings.” She fluffed the pillow on the hospital bed. “It’s a gamble I’m willing to take. After all, I’m not getting any younger.”

  Lee and Connie fell out in a fit of laughter. Lee beckoned suddenly for the pillow on his bed, clutching it to his chest to buffer the pain once Angela brought it to him. His jovial attitude dwindled as his eyes took on that droopy, medicated look. He was on his way to a nap when the rattletrap noise of a rolling cart destroyed the peace.

  “Dr. Munso, it’s time for your vitals and a little walk down the hall.” The young nurse looked boldly at Angela and Connie, but, sort of skulked around looking Lee in his eyes.

  Lee, to his family’s surprise, made himself available without a grumble. Mother and daughter monitored the exchange in anticipation of an all out rescue of the modern-day Florence Nightingale. The nurse skillfully went about her duties while an assistant waited in the wings. It wasn’t long before the nurse’s assistant whisked Lee towards the door and out into the hallway.

  “Don’t either of you leave,” he ordered with a hand clamped to the rolling pole.

  “We’re coming, too,” Angela said hurrying behind.

  “No, Cookie, Sweetie. Daddy’s got to do this on his own.” He could see the gears turning in Angela’s head.

  “The plot thickens.”

  “I want to talk to you, Cookie.” The door slipped to a close under Angela’s observation.

  “I can tell I’m not going to like this.”

  “Your father and I think you should take your trip,” her mother began dubiously. “No need letting that money go to waste.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding, right, Mama?”

  “Do I look like I’m kidding? You need a break from reality.”

  Angela rolled her eyes and grumbled. “No way am I leaving here with things the way they are.”

  “Your daddy’s out of the woods.”

  “And I intend to see that he stays that way.” She negated any further argument by crossing her arms across her chest resembling a petulant child. Her mouth became a grim line as Connie glided towards her. They stood nose to nose.

  “St. Thomas’ warm sandy beaches are the solution to the problem you refuse to admit. You need time for yourself. The swiftest way to the Looney bin is to deny yourself the privilege of healing.”

  Angela snagged her mother’s hands to emphasize her point. “I have healed. Helping others helped me to heal.”

  “If that is the case, Angela…” she paused.

  Angela braced for her mother’s big and convincing finish.

  Connie proceeded, “Why did Dom’s visit unnerve you?”

  “Because he is a boil on my bottom, Mama, and shouldn’t have shown his face here. That’s why.” Angela struggled to hide her rising temper at the mention of her unfaithful ex’s name.

  Connie concluded driving her point straight into Angela’s entombed heart. “Brock admitted to me earlier that he has feelings for you. Then, later to your father that he loves you.” She led Angela to the sofa where they sat. Each mulled over the importance of their conversation. “Love is delicate, Cookie. If you don’t nurture it tenderly—it’s preordained to wither on the vine.”

  Bashfully, Angela admitted, “I really do think I love him, Mama.”

  “That’s precisely why you need time to put your feelings into perspective. Without any undue pressure to respond in a manner that counters your best interest.”

  “My best interest,” she repeated absently. “I actually thought I could get a partial, if not a full refund on my trip and use it to help defray some of the medical costs.”

  “We have everything covered. Don’t you worry about us. It’s a parent’s responsibility to look out for their child.”

  “You’re all I have. I can’t help but worry.” Angela relished the feel of her mother’s loving strokes up and down her arm.

  “That’s the primary reason for letting go of past hurts,” Connie encouraged. “Your father and I won’t always be around. You need to love again, Cookie. Only…let your heart dictate the pace. And it can’t do that if you’re mired in muck.”

  “So eloquently put,” Angela sarcastically stated, tempering her response at the look only a mother could give. It seemed to her everything lined up for a trip, just not the original one. “I’ll take a trip.” Her concession of defeat put a canyon-wide smile across her mother’s face.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Angela’s adrenaline whipped wilder than the Chicago winds she left behind a mere four hours ago. She looked up at the exterior of the glass building. The skyscraper in downtown Atlanta housed Harper Enterprises, the consulting firm owned by Philip Harperiski. She entered to glide through the sleek looking lobby to study the wall directory. As expected, the place sought was on one of the loftier floors. That spurred her to the golden elevator doors. Elevator music did nothing at all to lessen her agitation on the extended ride up. The bell dinged as the doors slowly parted to expose a set of floor to ceiling double wood doors adorned with an oversized bronze name plaque. The anteroom was elegantly furnished and manned by a cheerful receptionist who did a double take as Angela strutted forward exhibiting her natural grace and poise.

  “May I help you?”

  “I’m here to see Mr. Harperiski.”

  “Do you have an appointment?” She punctuated the question with a snap of her neck that flung blonde strands over her shoulder.

  “No, I don’t,” Angela admitted. “I’m sure he’ll want to see me if you just let him know I’m here.”

  “I’m sorry. You need to make an appointment.” The keys clicked as she checked his schedule on her monitor. “He’s available next week. I can work you in—”

  “That won’t do.” Angela batted down her generous offer, adamantly insisting on seeing him. “He’ll want to see me as soon as possible.” She offered supporting evidence. “Here’s his personal card.”

  The receptionist sat up and took notice. She rose from her chair holding the card like a rare find. “Wait here, please.” Her clipped quality insinuated an order before she vanished behind a second set of impressive doors.

  Like magic, Jason Harper appeared before her with a look that said he wasn’t at all happy to see her.

  “What are you doing here?” His tone was so abrasive the once confident door gu
ard turned skittish.

  “Certainly not to see you,” Angela quipped, eyes flashing dangerously. She saw him in tunnel vision due to the fact she was so outdone at his threatening-like manner. Yet, she couldn’t miss the amazement on the woman’s face as she pivoted to look from her boss back to her, a baffling recognition igniting in her eyes. “Remember, Jason. You sought me out. I can skip out of here and my life wouldn’t miss a beat.” Within seconds, she showed him the back of her throbbing head.

  “Wait!” he hollered.

  “Wait for what?” she screamed back, forgetting her home training and—social dictates. Angela glared at him reading in his miffed expression his resentment of her challenge.

  The receptionist, by this time, knew she was out of her league and charged to her desk to sound a surreptitious warning. “There’s a mad black woman in confrontation with Mr. Harper. Send security right away.”

  Overhearing the whispered SOS didn’t really surprise Angela. It was the depiction of her as a black woman who’d lost her ever-loving mind to madness by daring to respond in kind to someone else’s caustic tone that angered her. “Hardly necessary,” she said sweetly, not wanting to give either the satisfaction of knowing how incensed she was. “I’m leaving.”

  A troop of uniformed men stampeding down the hall met her looking as if they were more than capable of putting down a coup in a small foreign country. All of this for her—one lone black woman. How powerful is that she thought more than a little frightened by the attention her presence commanded. She had to pause for them to open up a hole that was just big enough for her to slip through on her way to the elevators, grateful no one accosted her.

  “Angela.”

  The voice she despised brought a rush of relief as the gap in the hall widened to permit her biological father through. He cut a dapper figure in his designer suit and leather wing-tips, spit and polished to a blinding gleam. The elevator bell pinged and she held the door delaying her escape.