Promising Angela (7 page)

He drew in a breath. “Let’s go sit down, huh?”

A brief, puzzled scowl creased her forehead, but she turned toward the seating arrangement in the large lobby. Her jeweled flip-flops softly smacked her heels as she walked in front of him. She sat at one end of the sofa, and Ben chose the other end.

Facing her, he said, “I wanted to talk to you about Kent.”

She settled in the corner and tucked her feet beside her. Her elbow on the back of the sofa, she rested her cheek against her fist. “What about him?”

“Well …” Ben scratched his head. “He said something kind of—worrisome—after you left yesterday evening. I wondered if you could shed any light on it.”

Her shoulder lifted in a graceful shrug. “What did he say?”

“That you were his girlfriend.”

She flashed a smile that lit her eyes. “Oh, that’s really sweet.”

Sweet? Ben frowned. “To be honest, Angela, it concerns me.”

“Why should it?”

Could she really not understand the problem here? Surely she hadn’t deliberately set out to mislead Kent. “Did you do something to give him the idea you would be his girlfriend?”

She sat upright, planting her fist against the sofa cushion between them. “What do you mean, did I ‘do’ something?”

The defensiveness took Ben by surprise. “There’s no need to get angry. But you have to understand, while Kent’s muscles and mind don’t necessarily work like any typical male, his feelings are very much ‘normal.’”

“I’m aware of that.”

Her words snapped out on a harsh note Ben hadn’t heard from her before. His own tone took a firmer quality. “Look, Angela, you can’t—”

“I can’t what? Talk to him? Be friends with him?”

Ben took a deep breath. This wasn’t going very well. “You have to be careful. Kent’s been hurt—a lot. Rejection is hard on him. If he thinks you’re his girlfriend when you’re really only—”

“Leading him on?” She leaned forward, her face inches from his, and nearly snarled. “That’s what you think, isn’t it?”

Ben hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt. “Well, I—”

Flopping back into the corner of the couch, she flipped her hands outward. “Great, just great. I work so hard at getting over my apprehensions about being around the handicapped, and the first time I feel truly comfortable with someone, I get accused of being a tease.”

Ben listened, but he got the impression she was talking to herself more than him.

Before he could say anything, she swung around to face him again.

“If you want the truth, Ben, I do like Kent. I think he’s a pretty nice guy. Great sense of humor, and I can tell he tries hard to do the best he can with what he’s got to work with. I admire that. But as for being his girlfriend, no, I didn’t tell him I’d be his girlfriend, and I didn’t flirt with him. I’m sorry if he got that impression, and I’ll try to kindly set him straight when I see him next.”

She pointed a finger at his chest. “Because I will see him again. I consider him a friend, and more than that, he reminds me that ‘there but for the grace of God, go I.’”

Ben crunched his brows downward. “What do you mean by that?”

Her face flooded with pink, and she shot to her feet. “Never mind. You just remember what else I said. I’m going to be friends with Kent, and you can’t stop me!”

Ben sat in openmouthed silence as she thundered to the elevators, her flip-flops smacking the tiled floor. She jabbed the elevator button, stood with crossed arms while staring at the silver doors, and then shot through the opening without a backward glance.

Angela stomped down the hallway that led to Aunt Eileen’s apartment. Who did he think he was, accusing her of leading Kent on? Wasn’t he the one who’d put in her evaluation that she needed to loosen up around the clients, to be more natural? Well, what had she done? She’d loosened up, treated Kent like she would any other male she encountered on the street, and now that was wrong, too!

Banging through the apartment door, she bellowed, “I’m back!” She gave the door a slam that probably echoed throughout the entire building.

Roscoe zipped out from under the end table and dashed down the hallway, yellow fur on end and tail puffed to twice its normal size.

Aunt Eileen appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. The knot on the scarf she’d tied around her head stuck straight up like a bow. Beneath the scarf, her wrinkled face crunched in worry. “Angela, what’s with the fireworks?”

Angela stormed from one end of the living room to the other, fists raised, emitting growls of frustration. Aunt Eileen captured her on the second pass and pushed her into the recliner. When she would have jumped to her feet, Aunt Eileen stood in front of her and crossed her arms, feet widespread.

“Uh-uh. Sit.”

The firm look on her aunt’s face held her in the chair. She slumped back, popped up the footrest, and crossed her ankles. “Fine. I’ll sit.”

Aunt Eileen gave her one more puzzled scowl before sitting on the arm of the couch. “All right. Spill it.”

Angela huffed. “That … Ben!”

A smirk twisted Aunt Eileen’s lips. “Oh.”

Angela huffed louder. “No, not ‘oh.’ At least not like you said it.” Kicking the footrest down, she sat up, put her elbows on her knees, and covered her face. “Why can’t I ever do things right?”

“Wait a minute. Back up.” Aunt Eileen grabbed one of Angela’s hands and pulled it down. “What didn’t you do right?”

A grunt of frustration found its way from Angela’s chest. “Might be easier to make a list of what I have done right. It would take me all of—oh, three seconds—to name it off.” She jabbed one finger in the air. “Coming here while Mom and Dad are away—that’s about all I can think of that I’ve done right.”

Although she’d promised to sit, she bounced to her feet again. “But done wrong? Oh, boy, can I list those! Hosted all those parties with the sole intention of rattling Dad’s cage so he’d pay some attention to me. Ended up with guests who liked using stuff the policemen frown about.” She thumped her own forehead with the butt of her hand. “Used the stuff myself. Duh! What is that—three things not done right?”

She began ticking off offenses on her fingers. “Then there’s not only using but getting caught, getting sent to rehab, getting sent to community service at a place where I have to relate to people who are completely different than me—and doing it very badly.”

“Hold up there.” Aunt Eileen remained perched, her gaze pinned to Angela’s face. “Why do you think you’ve done badly? Philip says you’re working well there.”

Angela stared at her aunt. “He said that?”

Aunt Eileen nodded, the knot on her head bobbing. “Yes, he did. He’s pleased with your progress.”

“Huh!” Angela thought about that for a moment, but then Ben’s evaluation ran through her mind, bringing another scowl. “Well, according to Ben—who is my direct supervisor—I’m not doing things right.” Once more, she began to pace.

Aunt Eileen reached out and grabbed her hand, bringing her to a halt. “Sweet girl, sit down. Please.”

With a long sigh, Angela sank back into the recliner.

“Now.” Aunt Eileen slid from the armrest to the couch seat. “Tell me exactly what happened downstairs with Ben. You weren’t down there more than five minutes. He couldn’t have possibly picked you apart in that short amount of time.”

Oh, Angela only wished that statement weren’t true. She felt tears gather in her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to control them. “Ben told me Kent said I was his girlfriend.”

Aunt Eileen smiled, giving a wink and nod. “Ah, I can see why Kent would want that. You’re a very pretty girl.”

Angela brushed the comment aside. She didn’t feel pretty right now. “He didn’t seem happy about it. He asked me what I was doing with Kent—like I’d been flirting with him.” She pressed her palms to her chest. “I know I’ve been a flirt in the past, Aunt Eileen. I did a lot of things that weren’t right before I became a Christian, but I’m trying so hard to change, to let people know Jesus is in my heart now.”

“Of course you are.” Aunt Eileen patted Angela’s arm. “I’ve seen it.”

She lowered her hands to her lap, twisting her fingers together. “I thought Ben knew it, that he saw it, but I guess not. I just want to be friends with Kent. I’d like to be friends with Ben, but I don’t think he really trusts me. All he sees is this dumb woman who can’t relax around people with handicaps. And I just don’t see the point of trying if all I’m going to do is fail!”

Her voice fell silent, and Aunt Eileen remained quiet, too, her lips puckered in a thoughtful expression. Roscoe peeked from the hallway, his tail twitching, then made three running leaps to land beside Aunt Eileen’s hip. He coiled into a ball and began to purr, his motor a soothing sound.

Angela sighed, her emotions spent. “Aunt Eileen, I’m so … alone. Mom and Dad are never around. My sisters … They’ve got their own lives. I’m staying away from my old friends so I don’t get myself into trouble, but I really miss them. I miss the fun we used to have. Well, some of the fun. And what scares me is—when Ben accused me of coming on to Kent, I realized the old Angela is still hiding somewhere inside. What if she comes back? What if the need for friendship and fun takes me right back to where I was before?”

“That
won’t
happen.”

Angela laughed. Her aunt’s adamant retort was encouraging, but she wasn’t sure it was realistic. “How can you be sure?”

“Because you aren’t the way you were before.” Aunt Eileen leaned over the armrest of the sofa to clasp Angela’s hand. “When you asked Jesus into your heart, He washed you clean. He made you holy. Now you just have to walk like you believe it.”

“You mean, I should always be holy? I should never make mistakes?” Angela’s heart gave a nervous double beat with that idea. If she were supposed to be free of mistakes, she had a long way to go.

“Now, I didn’t say that. Unfortunately, we’re humans, and humans aren’t perfect.” Aunt Eileen paused, her forehead creased in thought. “No, what I mean is you shouldn’t spend your time worrying about what mistakes you might make. You should concentrate on two things. First, you aren’t alone anymore. The Holy Spirit is with you, helping you be strong when you feel weak. When you’re tempted, you just ask for help, and help will come. The Bible says we’ll never be tested beyond our ability to resist. So remember that.

“And second, you’ve got me. I know I’m no young hipster, and it’s not the same as having friends your age to hang up on—”

Angela burst out laughing. “Hang out with, Aunt Eileen!”

The older woman gave a tug on Angela’s hand. “All right, all right, so I don’t even know the terminology. But I’m here. I love you, and anytime you need something, you can come to me.”

Angela thought her heart might melt. The tears returned. “Oh, Aunt Eileen, thank you. I love you, too.”

“But just keep this in mind.” Aunt Eileen’s voice took on a stern undertone. “You don’t have to depend on me. If there’s a lesson I’ve learned well over the years, it’s that there is One who will never abandon me, never turn a deaf ear, never refuse me comfort, and He’s Jesus. Lean on Him, sweet girl, and you’ll be fine.”

Angela laid her head against the backrest of the old recliner and sighed. “How did you learn all this, Aunt Eileen? How do I get to be as—as comfortable with Jesus as you are?”

A smile lit her aunt’s eyes. “Why, same way as with any relationship. Time. Think about your first days at New Beginnings. It was awkward, wasn’t it?”

Angela nodded. She had been certain she wouldn’t last ten minutes, let alone ten months.

“But what happened?” Aunt Eileen smiled, offering a wink. “You got to know the clients. You formed a relationship with them. And then the awkwardness slowly went away. That’s the way it is with Jesus, too. You gotta talk to Him—get to know Him.”

Angela nodded, nibbling her lower lip. Prayer … Carrie had said that, too. Reading the Bible every day and praying were important things for growing in the Christian walk.

She stood. “Aunt Eileen, I’m going to my room now. I–I’m going to do a little talking with Jesus.”

Angela rose from her knees at the side of the little bed in her temporary bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, she released a contented sigh. Aunt Eileen was right—talking to Jesus did make a person feel better. She raised her gaze to the ceiling and added a quick postscript. “I’ll talk with You again soon. Count on it.”

She rustled around in the half-unpacked suitcase at the end of the bed and located a pad of paper and pen. A list … While praying, she’d gotten the idea of forming a list of Christian friends who could be a support to her. She knew she shouldn’t spend time with her old crowd. That could prove to be unwholesome. But somehow she needed to replace those relationships. Replacing them with Christian people seemed a wise thing to do.

Flipping the pad open, she wrote Christian Support System at the top of the page then began plugging in names. Aunt Eileen’s name came first, followed by Carrie and her husband Rocky. Her boss, Philip, came next. And then her hand paused, the pen nib against the paper. Should she include Ben? He was a Christian, and he’d been a support up until that morning when he’d frustrated her so badly.