Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Abigail, Abigail!”
Darvey.
I ran to the door, undid the chain and lock, and opened it. There stood Darvey, Delia Travers and a police officer.
Darvey stepped toward me and grabbed my shoulders. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I was in the shower. I heard glass breaking and locked myself in the bathroom.”
Delia and the policeman eased passed us and searched the apartment. The officer had his hand on his gun. I held onto Darvey when I realized my legs were shaking.
“Come here.” Darvey walked me over to the couch. “Come sit down.”
“What are you doing here?” I sat down and adjusted my robe so I didn’t flash anybody.
“Delia and I heard it on the police scanner. I recognized your address so we came over.”
“Who called the police?”
“Your neighbor, I think.”
“Everything’s clear,” the uniformed man declared as he came back in the room.
Delia followed. “Somebody threw a brick through the bedroom window.”
A second police officer stepped through the front door. “Nothing outside.”
“You got an evidence bag?” the guy who had searched the house asked.
“In the car. I’ll go get it.”
Later Delia and I cleaned up glass in my bedroom. She had asked Darvey to find some cardboard to cover up the window.
“We’ll stay here tonight in case they come back,” she said as she emptied the dust pan into the trash can. Glass settled at the bottom. The concern was whoever had thrown the brick had been standing at my window. As heavy as the brick was, there was no way it could have gone through the glass like it did otherwise. In fact, Delia had surmised whoever had done it had actually pounded on the glass.
“Delia,” I began. “Look, I’d rather Scott not know about this.”
“How would he know unless you told him?”
“Bryant’s been keeping an eye on me. I appreciate the care, but,” I shrugged. “Scott gets all overprotective, and I think the police here can make sure I’m okay.”
Delia’s eyes narrowed. She tapped her finger against her chin in thought. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, but I also don’t want Agent McIntyre so worried about you that he can’t do his job in Tennessee. Let me see what I can do.”
“Thanks. Do you guys want to use my bed? I can sleep on the couch.” This was my way of finding out how involved Delia and Darvey were.
“Nah. We’ll take the couch.”
I looked up from a piece of glass I had just pinched between my finger and thumb.
“He lets me sleep on top, so no worries there.” Her left eyelid lowered in a subtle wink.
I burst out laughing as Darvey walked into the bedroom with a square piece of cardboard and a roll of masking tape in his hand.
“Hey,” he greeted us as I laughed harder. “What?”
“Nothing. You want some help?” Delia, who had been kneeling on the floor, straightened and waggled her eyebrows at me before she walked over to the window.
I picked up the trashcan, pan, and broom as I stifled a yawn. From the other room, my cell phone rang. Who would be calling in the middle of the night?
I read caller I.D. on the screen.
Scott.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he responded back. “You okay?”
Had Bryant already spilled the beans? “Yeah.”
“Were you asleep?”
“No.” I waited for him to get to it. How would he approach the subject? ‘Bryant told me someone broke your window tonight’ or maybe ‘You see what happens when you volunteer at that center? Somebody tried to kill you tonight.’
“I miss you.”
The warmth of his voice reverberated in my ear, and my breath caught. I wasn’t expecting that.
“What are you wearing right now?”
My mouth fell open.
“Abigail?”
“Yes?”
“You sure you’re okay?”
I made an affirmative sound.
“I’m sorry if I woke you up. You’re in bed, aren’t you?”
I rubbed the goose bumps on my arms. “Err. No. I got in late from work.”
His velvet voice morphed into annoyance. “Don’t tell me you were out by yourself at one o’clock in the morning.”
“I’m fine, Scott. Really.”
“Abigail, I don’t like you to take chances like you do.”
“I’m sorry, Scott. I’ll try to do better. I really will.”
Silence.
“Did something happen?”
“No. Everything is fine. I’m safe. I’m fine.” I was such a lousy liar. I hoped Delia would do what she said she would and not let Bryant say anything about tonight. “Are you coming to see me?” I tried to keep the desperation from my voice. I didn’t want him to know what happened, but I wanted him here anyway. I missed his arms around me.
“No, Abigail.” His tone was heavy, tired.
“I miss you,” I confessed.
“I…can’t go back there. To Clavania.”
“What do you mean you can’t come back here?”
“Abigail,” Scott breathed a lungful of air through the phone. “That place. It’s like poison to me. I can’t go back there. Not yet.”
I blinked my eyes several times against the stinging.
“Sweetheart, I know you can’t appreciate what it was like for me there.”
I tried to. I considered how terrible it must have been to sleep outside and to be in danger. To be cold and homeless and always waiting for someone to kill you.
Still. I was scared. Someone had thrown a brick through my window. Someone may have even watched me undress in my bedroom. I shivered.
“I understand, Scott. I do.” But I didn’t. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. “I have to go. It’s late.”
“I’ll call you. Tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
****
By mid-afternoon the next day, I stood in front of the eleven to fourteen year old crowd in negotiations. They were doing their ‘I’m too cool for school’ routine. I noted that Angel was among the crowd.
“Look, guys, if you just get your homework done, I’ll let you go to the gym and shoot some b-ball.”
The eyes didn’t quite roll, but close. What? B-ball wasn’t the cool term anymore? Geez, trying to keep up with the lingo of the hood was harder than passing my CPA exam.
When bribery didn’t work, my next course of action was bitchery. I closed my eyes to slits and sneered at them. “You either get to your homework, or I’ll assign you the next two chapters as well. And you can just stay in here and stare at your open books until your mamas come pick you up at five.”
Sighs of resignation echoed off the walls. Books opened, and pens scribbled.
Sweet.
They earned their playtime after I chose four students at random and approved their work. As the teens and tweens filed from the room, I called to Angel. He didn’t stop, so I caught up with him, and steered him back to empty room B. Under my hand, his shoulders were stiff.
“So, Angel, I had a visit with your grandma.” I patted him on the back, gently pushing him into the room, and leaned against the door jamb.
“She told me.”
“She thinks you’re getting into some trouble.”
No response.
“Where do you go on the nights you’re not at home?”
His dark eyes snapped at me. “None of yo’ business, white lady.”
I returned his stare determined I was not going to be the first to look away. “I took one of your pictures to a friend of mine who works in a gallery. She thinks you’ve got some talent.”
“I don’t do that shit no more.”
My fingers itched to grab some soap and stick it in his mouth. “Why not?”
He puffed up his chest. “‘Cause that’s what fags do. I ain’t no fag. I’m a man.”
His man/boy pride was so strong, I thought about reaching out to touch it. Instead, I stepped toward him. “What makes you a man, Angel? Hurting people? Throwing bricks through windows?”
“I didn’t do nothing.”
“You know what Shakespeare says about a man? ‘How noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel.’”
The young man pushed past me. I watched as he strode down the hall and entered the door of the gym. Later I cornered him in the equipment closet as he was putting away the basketballs. I folded my arms and blocked the door.
He glared at me snorting like a bull ready to charge.
“You’ve got talent. I believe in you. I think you could be the next Picasso.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I want to see you beat the odds and make it for your granny. Man, she loves you, and she wants a life for you that won’t end up in prison or doped up at the bottom of a garbage can. You’ve got a chance, here. Please let me take a couple more of your pictures to the museum. My friend Minnie who works there really likes the abstracts I took her.”
His eyes narrowed. Should he trust me? That’s what he was thinking. I knew it.
I reached forward and grabbed his hand. “Please, Angel. I won’t do this unless you say okay.”
He flicked my hand away. “Okay,” he groused. “But don’t tell nobody. And I don’t want no stocking sniffing around Granny’s house neither.”
That was his way of saying he did not want Minnie coming into the hood. “Okay. But I can come by and get a couple more prints, right?”
His nostrils flared. “I’ve gotta go.”
I smiled, gripped the knob behind me, and backed open the door. I had pushed as much as I thought I could get away with.
As had been my routine, I went to the candle company, worked a few hours, and was pulling in front of my apartment building late. Darvey had arranged for a police car to cruise the complex around eleven each night so I had timed my arrival to coincide with that event. I sent good thoughts to Darvey when I passed the cruiser and parked in my usual spot. Glancing back, my feet stumbled as I caught sight of a formidable and familiar figure in black leather leaning against his motorcycle.
Scott.
What was he doing here? How could he possibly be here? I turned and ran toward him. His face breaking into a wide grin, he shouldered a duffel and opened his arms as he met me.
“I can’t believe it.” I squeezed him in my enthusiasm and lifted my head to kiss him. “What are you doing here?” I asked against his lips.
“Come on. Let’s get inside. I just drove, like, fourteen hours and parts of me are in agony.”
I laughed. Scott was here. He had actually come to Clavania. I couldn’t believe it. Arm in arm we walked toward my apartment. Inside, I turned on the light and took his bag.
“This is wonderful. Do you want to sit down?”
“Actually, what I’d really like is a shower.” He rubbed his backside and grimaced. “Do you mind?”
Not a bit. A shower sounded great.
The next morning when I awoke, a heavy arm pinned me against the mattress. Lifting it, I slipped from the bed. We hadn’t gotten around to discussing why he was here. But he was here. Had Bryant told him about the brick? I glanced at the cardboard-covered window. I really wished the maintenance guy had gotten to that yesterday. If Scott noticed it, I’d have a hard time not telling him what happened. Quietly I entered the bathroom and shut the door. By the time I got out of the shower, Scott was wearing a pair of sweat pants and leaning against my counter as coffee brewed.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself. Want a cup of coffee?”
I liked this set-up. Gorgeous and sweet guy with no shirt waiting on me. “Sure. How are your parts this morning?”
“Still sore.”
I reached into my purse lying on the table and pulled out a bottle of Tylenol. “Here. This will help.” I handed it to him.
“Thanks.” He set the bottle down without opening it. Pouring coffee in a cup, he handed it to me.
I sipped. Oh, I loved this man. He had already added milk and Splenda. I loved how observant he was.
“What happened to your bedroom window?”
Or not.
“Just a little accident. The maintenance guy is supposed to fix it in the next day or two.”
He watched me. I sipped from my cup and opened the fridge. I wasn’t a big breakfast eater, but I needed a diversion. No. I needed for Scott to have a diversion. “Can I scramble you some eggs? Or fried? I can even do sunny side up. I learned that at Waffle Mania.”
Scott tilted his head, crossed his arms and ankles. Oh, crud. I was about to be interrogated.
He didn’t ask me any questions. He didn’t say anything. Just studied me like I was a piece of leftover cake he had just found in my fridge. Should he eat me or throw me out?
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Staring at me.”
“I’m waiting on you to tell me about the window.”
“Well, I’m not going to. It happened. I’m getting it fixed. End of story.” With a pan on the heated stove, I cracked two eggs and dropped them in the skillet.
“I’m going for a run,” he said walking from the kitchen.
“What about your eggs?”
“Save them for me. I’ll be back in forty minutes.”
Later that morning Scott called my cell phone and asked me out to lunch. I hedged because I had been working through lunch so I could get to the community center sooner.
“I’m on east side of the city. It’s not convenient.”
“You’re still at the candle makers, right? I can meet you there.”
I sighed not wanting to hear a lecture about where I’d been spending my flex time. “I’m not taking lunch today. I leave at two to go to the center. You can meet me there for a late lunch.”
“You get there about two-thirty?”
“Yes.”
“See you then.”
I pressed the end button after he hung up. Hmm. What was going on with Scott McIntyre? Had he just been telling me this town was poison to him? What had changed?
When I arrived at the center, Scott was already there in the middle of a basketball game between the middle and high school kids. With a whistle in his mouth, he interrupted the game and made the sign for traveling against the red team. Warmth spread through me. He looked so natural on the court, like he had been reffing b-ball games here for years. I leaned against the jamb and watched.
“Where’d you find him?”
I glanced back at Paula. She followed his movement among the young players.
“In court. The courthouse kind of court.”
She made this throaty sound of appreciation.
“Honey, if I could find something like that in the courthouse kind of court, I might just go get myself arrested.”
I heard myself give a girly sigh. “Yeah.”
“He brought you some lunch. It’s in Mr. Harvey’s office. Come on.”
With a last look at Scott, I allowed Paula to drag me down the hall. In a few moments, I was sitting in front of Mr. Harvey’s desk biting into a turkey club sandwich and listening to Paula and Lola talk about how good-looking Scott was. I smiled. They had been kind to Eli, had asked his help in small jobs here and there, but they had never commented on his looks. Clean the boy up and listen to them go on about him. I shoved the rest of the sandwich in my mouth and picked up the cup of iced tea Scott had brought along with my food. They seemed in no hurry, but I knew if they were in the office, there were unsupervised children in the building. Never a good thing.
Chapter Sixteen
I worked with the girls that afternoon helping them balance made up bank accounts on a program I had found on the Internet. Mr. Harvey thought my being a CPA lent itself well to teaching this life skill. I didn’t talk to Scott until five w
hen my duties were finished, but a few times I’d seen him stick his head in the door and wave at me. I didn’t know if he was checking up on me or just greeting me as he went from one place to the next. He appeared as I walked down the hall to find him.
“Hey.” He fell into step beside me with his jacket flung across one shoulder. I glanced at his exposed arms. I never tired of seeing them. I had gotten so used to seeing him in long sleeves that to see him in a T-shirt was a turn-on. “Ready to go?”
My eyes traveled from arms to face. He was different, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Where’s your motorcycle?”
“In your living room. I hope you don’t mind. I put towels on the floor.”
“How’d you get here?”
“Cab.” He nudged my shoulder with his. “Can I have a ride home?”
“I’m not going home. I have to go back to the candle company and make up my time tonight.”
We walked onto the parking lot lit by street lights and the glow of the setting sun. I grabbed his hand. “Come here. I want to show you something.”
Guiding him to the metal plaque next to the door which commemorated the heroic acts of Eli the night of the fire, I turned to him in expectation.
“What do you think?”
He turned on his heel and headed to my car.
I caught up with him and unlocked the doors. His eyes were lowered, his shoulders tense as he stood on the other side of the car. When we were sitting inside, I asked him again.
“I think it needs to be removed.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because Eli didn’t give his life. It’s a lie, and it’s an embarrassment.”
“It does not negate the courageous act.”
“The courageous act doesn’t need a plaque. Every kid in this neighborhood acts courageously by going to school, taking care of their families, taking the long way home to avoid the bangers, not giving up. I chose to be in a temporary situation. They don’t have a choice.”
“You chose to save people in a burning building. You had a choice.”
“Look. It’s over. Can we forget about it?”
I let it drop and drove toward the entrance ramp of the interstate. By the time I pulled into the parking lot of the candle company, Scott had relaxed. The office was usually deserted after five, so I was glad to have him there for company. He surfed the web on one of the office computers while I ran numbers on my laptop. By ten that night, I was stepping around his motorcycle in the middle of my living room and setting Chinese take-out on the table. When we sat down across from each other, it hit me.
Unforgettable Heroes Boxed Set Page 79