Like Slow Sweet Molasses (21 page)

She
caught sight of the gate number cognizant only a few steps remained before she
reached her concourse. Thinking rationally and almost breathing normally,
Angela started out again. There was no way she was going to miss that plane. It
was time to use some of the tenacity inherited from her parents to accomplish
this personal feat. The only one, besides her parents, she could count on was
herself. Her journey would end as it begun: all alone.

“Connie?”

“Who’s
calling?”

Chance
couldn’t place the funny sound in her voice. “It’s Brock Alexander. Angela’s
friend.”

His
mind wistfully skipped backwards to the night of his departure—the night he
failed, again, to be honest with Angela about his business. The cameras
monitoring his home’s exterior captured her distressed attempt at seeking him
out the other day. Somehow, he knew he’d let her down when she most needed him.

He
replayed the scene one more time as he talked.

“Of
course, I remember you, Brock,”
she cut into his introduction, her tone a little bit on the
breathy side.

“May
I speak to Lee?” He preferred to talk to Lee to lessen the concern he knew
Connie would feel when she realized Angela was missing.

“He’s
unavailable.”
She tried in vain to stifle a sob.

He
mistook her sadness for impatience and rushed to explain.

“I’ll
get right to the point. My aunt is worried about Angela.” He struggled for the
proper words but blurted out his concern. “She hasn’t been seen in two days.
I’ve been out of town. Otherwise, I would have—” Chance absently stroked at the
four days’ worth of growth on his face. “Have you heard from her, Connie?”

“
She’s
here, Brock. In Chicago.”
Connie pulled herself together, a burdensome sigh
hinting at what was to come.
“Lee’s had a massive heart attack.”

“Oh,”
he groaned. “Sorry to hear that. He is going to be all right?”

“It’s
touch and go.”

“What
can I do, Connie?” He felt helpless to ease her pain.

“There’s
nothing anyone can do at the moment. We’re on hold praying he’ll respond to
treatment.”

“How’s
she taking it?” He knew that was a stupid question.

“She
hasn’t left his side since getting here. She won’t eat. She only nods off a few
minutes at a time.”

Chance
heard her immense anguish.

“Angela’s
guilt is governing and overruling her common sense.”

“I
don’t understand,” he said confused. “What has she done to be guilty about?”
Angela’s mother searched for the proper answer while he gathered she was unsure
of how much information was too much for his ears. “I know about Philip
Harperiski.”

“She
told you?”
she gushed in
shock.

“I’ve
met both he and his son.”

“What?”
Her irritation mounted.

“We
met with them a few days ago. They came to New Orleans and forced a meeting.
She didn’t feel comfortable going alone and asked me to accompany her,” he
explained. “I did.”

“She
never said a word.”

“Connie,
may I speak to her?”

A
deafening silence blossomed as the two people desperately tried to make sense
of all that was happening in Angela’s life, unraveling it at the seams. Connie
spoke up, at last.

“I
wish you would. Perhaps, she’ll listen to you.”
Her pace quickened.
“Lee’s mother,
the only grandmother Angela’s ever known, just left the hospital. Even she
couldn’t get through to her.”

He
heard her puffing as she talked.

“I’m
almost there.”

Connie
entered the room, swiped the curtain aside and addressed Angela. “Cookie?”
Angela’s face lifted. “Telephone.”

Angela
had no use for telephones as was evident when she returned to her previous
posture, forehead on the hand that clutched her father’s.

“It’s
Brock.” Her mother attempted to bribe her to the phone.
“Angela’s in a very
uncooperative state and refuses to talk. I’m sorry, Brock.”

If
he closed his eyes, he could see her keeping vigil over Lee.

Connie
moved into the hallway.
“Jason Harper is partly responsible for the way
she’s beating up on herself.”

He
listened attentively at the mention of Angela’s half-brother’s name. “What was
that bastard doing there?” His slip of the tongue punctuated his anger. “Sorry,
Connie.”

“He
had the gall to call her like he was a long-lost relative offering support. Do
you know what he said to her?”
She seethed.

Anger
transmitted on the line. Chance could almost feel her upset.

“She
said he said,”
she inhaled deeply,
“‘she’d better act quickly before she loses two
fathers.’”
Another sigh disrupted the transmission.
“Wasn’t that a cruel
thing to say? I still can’t figure out how he found out about Lee or for that
matter, how he knew Angela was in town.”

“I’m
coming to Chicago on the next thing flying, Connie,” he announced. Then seeking
her permission, “If that’s okay with you.”

“Lee
doesn’t give his private cell number to just anyone, Brock. That tells me
something about the impression you made on him.”
She encouraged him.
“Get here as
soon as you can.”

“Thanks,
Connie.”

Chance
hung up, stumped as to why Angela never returned his calls. She left him
several messages, one marked urgent, which he didn’t get the chance to return
right away. He did, however, attempt to contact her as soon as he returned from
the field but to no avail. It was almost impossible to put his regrets into
perspective for his mind always landed on the trust issue. Could she believe
him insincere in his admission of interest? She ignored his repeated messages
and refused to speak to him on the phone.

“I’m
screwed,” he bashed himself all the time throwing a change of clothing into his
grip. Red eyes in his haggard face burned from the lack of sleep. The hairs
bristling on his jaws begged for a trim. Minor infractions when he thought
about the possibility of Angela booting him out of her life. Chance hightailed
it out of his loft to blaze a trail to her. Perhaps, she’d forgive him if he
humbled himself and begged for mercy, in person. That’s exactly what he planned
to do.

Angela’s
walk, minus her usual pep, just managed to get her back to the waiting area
with Connie’s coffee request. She had to pass through the space to access ICU
where her father lay fighting for his life. Her unfocussed eyes strayed into
the room as she closed in on the receptionist’s desk. Chance set his sights on
her and all he desired was to wipe away her pain. He stood in preparation to
make his presence known when a figure seated closer blocked him and called to
her.

She
stared in stunned recognition and Chance saw her blink in disbelief. The
enormous cup slid from her hand as she whirled for a fast getaway. Her erratic
behavior spurred him into action as he chased the man chasing her. She dived
into the stairwell. By the time Chance arrived, she fervently fought to
disengage herself from her captor and blasted the man for his behavior,
promptly gaining her release.

Chance
propped the stairwell door open making his presence hard to ignore.

The
man spoke to him while pointing a staying finger at her. “Are you passing
through or not?”

Chance’s
computer brain broke the man’s statistics down like a science problem. He was
inches taller than Angela but lacked Chance’s stature and build. He appeared
physically fit as proven by his sprint to reach her and extremely condescending
in the way he held Angela at bay with his pointer finger. She looked from him
to the man and back to him as if not quite sure what to do. Chance, realizing
he’d never seen her so indecisive, took his lead from her.

“Leave,
Mister, if you don’t want to pass.”

“No,
Dom.” Angela found her voice. “You leave.”

Chance
watched in silence as the scene played out.

“Not
before we talk, Love.”

Love?

“Don’t
call me that ever again.” She trembled with rage. “You shouldn’t be here at
all. What were you thinking?”

“I
received word during my conference at the university about Lee’s
hospitalization. I came to lend my support.”

“You’ve
no right to be here,” she complained. He moved closer to her forcing her hand.
“Go back to your tramp.”

Ah-ha.

“That’s
not nice. Nor is it characteristic of you,” he scolded.

She
scowled at him.

“Why
are you still here?” This question he slung at Chance. “This is a private
conversation.”

“Angel?”
He played his hand without addressing the man he assumed was her ex-husband.

Angela’s
laugh bordered on hysterics as she deciphered the shock on Dom’s face. “You
don’t think you’re the only equal opportunity lover, do you?” She became aware
of the way Chance tensed before letting the iron door slip to a close with him
on the other side. Her eyes teared.

“Guess
you hurt his feelings.”

“Forget
you, Dominick!”

Angela
trotted down six flights of stairs as a way of escaping her ex. Too many people
with too many demands on her contributed to her current state of mind. She
exited into the emergency room waiting area and dashed straight out the
automatic doors almost colliding with a wheeled gurney. The freezing night air
rattled her bones as she sought a cubby hole near the entrance to block
Chicago’s whipping wind.

While
she beat herself up downstairs, Chance reined in his temper by cleaning up the
mess she left with a wad of paper towels swiped from the men’s room. That
little distraction was just what he needed. Manual labor had a way of taking
the edge off whatever troubles he had. Since his tinker toys weren’t around
what better alternative than scrubbing floors. Connie called to him as he put
the clean towel down to rid the floor of the excess moisture.

They
met half-way in the middle of the room.

“Sorry
to take so long in coming. I got the page but Lee had an episode.” She gulped
in a breath. “He’s awake!”

Connie
confiscated his hands in a tremendous show of excitement and relief, jerking
back from the sticky, wet paper. She thanked him for the clean moistened
towelette he produced.

“I’m
glad to hear that.” His voice relayed other emotions.

Connie
picked up on a problem. “Have you seen Cookie? She left to get me a cup—” It
came to her what he did and she glanced at her own hands. “My coffee?”

He
shook his head.

“That’s
what happened when she saw you?”

He
heard the suspicious concern in her voice. “That’s what happened when she
saw…Dom.” This time the breath Connie caught hung in her throat for a spell
causing a coughing fit. He didn’t know if it was appropriate to slap her on the
back or what. So, he asked, “Are you alright?”