Like Slow Sweet Molasses (39 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Angela
ate very little at lunch choked up with feelings of remorse at being such a
coward in the face of love. After saying good-byes to Goldie, she wandered
aimlessly through the mall entombed in her sorrows, hunting for a way to get
her life back on track. Her mind was a trash can of discarded ideas. Not one
supported any reason why Chance should forgive her loser mentality. She had to
show herself worthy and able to accept his chosen profession regardless of how
scared she was of him dying on her. Today’s society saw innocent people die
every day for innocuous reasons like being in the wrong place at the wrong
time. That’s not the way she wanted to live her life—running from love.

Growing
fatigued of ambling without a destination in mind, she sat in the atrium;
surprised she'd walked the entire mall and was back where she started. The
bustling grove of shoppers paid scant attention to her as she selected one from
the crowd to create a story in her mind based on their expression. She deduced
those appearing to be teens to early twenties and early to mid-fifties wore the
happiest expressions of all. While the mid-age shoppers took to the task like
it was a chore. Luckily, none knew she secretly analyzed them.

Just
slouching on a bench got her nowhere when a couple joined her and eagerly
reviewed what she gathered were airline tickets. She looked over their
shoulders without deciphering the destination. Angela envied the way they
kissed and cooed their way from the front cover to the back of an island pictured
travel envelope. The lovers solved her problem without saying a word.

Her
purse turned up no cell phone when she tore up the insides searching. She
sprang up craning for a phone bank. The mall directory sent her in high gear to
the customer service area near the food court. Angela made a call securing two
one-way tickets to a location the reservationist determined was half-way
between Chicago and New Orleans, shaking slightly in anticipation of what
Chance’s reply to the invitation would be. One way to find out and that was to
call him.

She
dialed his cell. It went to voicemail. His home number rang and rang. Things
looked pretty dismal. Angela came to the only logical conclusion: he avoided
her. Sadly, she called the one remaining number capable of putting her in
contact with him. The fact the phone went unanswered was troubling to Angela
because Mrs. Thatcher’s understanding of their burgeoning relationship, thus
far, was unbiased. Angela denied her emotions the luxury of shutting down
choosing instead to mount another attack once she reached the house.

Pumped
and refusing to backslide, a pool of self-pity was a place she no longer wanted
to reside.

The
doorbell rang in alarming succession causing Angela to wonder if her mother
misjudged and should have rented a hall for the party. Their friends and
colleagues came in record numbers to pay homage to Lee in his period of
recovery. The gaiety drifting into her room declared the party’s success. She
was all set to make her appearance when her phone rang.

“Hello.”
She knew the caller’s identity before hearing the voice. “Hi, Keitha.”

“We
have a signed lease.”

“Already?”

“You
sound disappointed, Angela.”

“No,
no. Only surprised it went so fast. We posted three days ago.”

“It’s
a three month lease with the option to re-sign if all REGS are met or even to
buy at the end of the period.”

“That’s
great.” Her voice lacked enthusiasm.

“I’ll
keep you informed. Congratulations. Bye, Angela.”

“Bye,
Keitha.”

This
was supposed to be a joyous time for Angela, having her investment turn a
profit in such a short period of time. But, conflicted is what she was. Another
unforeseen complication that was just one more square peg in her round hole of
a life. Her plan was to get back in Chance’s good graces and being without a
place to reside put a crimp in her strategy.

Angela’s
finger kept time with the bouncy melody as she tapped Chance’s number in the
receiver. “I’m not giving up, love. I’ll keep trying until I reach you,” she
confided to the constant ring as she finally hung up.

Her
courtesy appearance demanded she put forth a good impression and be on her best
behavior as was required of the hosts’ offspring. One more touch of wine
lipstick topped with a smear of clear gloss and she practiced a happy face in
the mirror, the winning one she was able to produce over and over until it
became second nature. The smile held its place on her lips as she whisked out
of her room to descend the stairs, careful not to disturb the garland crusted
banister.

The
party was in full swing when she got downstairs curtailing the need to do
anything more than the occasional nod. She smiled and nodded her way to the
buffet. Voices raised in conversation over the disc jockey’s prattle got louder
when the music started again. Angela nibbled pickled okra from the relish tray
laughing inside as her intuition came true. Dancers started with a step or two
of a hip-hop dance that twitched back in time to the comfortable steps of their
younger days. There was no way anyone presently gyrating on the dance floor failed
to be in touch with their youthful alter-ego. This time she scanned the table,
plate in hand, for dishes she liked when a hand on her elbow stayed her. She
knew without turning whose it was and what he wanted.

Angela
faced her father.

“Your
turn,” he announced, moving backwards and forward with chugging steps.

“Daddy,
no-o-o.”

He
took her plate. “It’s easy.”

“I’ll
show you,” they said together, Angela intimating having heard that before.

“You
shouldn’t get so stimulated…right after a massive heart attack less than a
month ago. Remember?”

The
volume increased and Lee leaned in to say, “All the more reason to enjoy my
second chance at life. I could have been dead and gone.”

Angela
saw the truth in his statement, again, rethinking her impromptu decision to
leave New Orleans. “I know. Tomorrows aren’t promised.”

Her
feet shuffled, her arms seesawed front and back and laughter bubbled up and out
as Lee danced her into the center of the crowd to demonstrate their prowess at
doing the Train. Angela’s robust laughter mingled with the dozens of other
voices engaged in excited chatter. Here she was—doing exactly what she said she
wouldn’t do—and loving it.

Two
or three long songs of the marathon kind played keeping her occupied for what
seemed like hours. When she was finally able to disengage from the festivities,
she fixed a plate and sneaked back upstairs to make another stab at contacting
Chance. The first things to come off, once she entered her room, were her heels
in favor of faux fur-lined slippers. The robe protected her slinky red velvet,
off the shoulder long sleeved dress from any tidbits likely to fall as she ate.
Angela set her plate on the desk to rehearse her “take me back” speech.

No
matter what she said sounded desperate.

The
phone left its base like a jack-in-the-box. Once again, she was unsuccessful.
Only this time, his safety rather than his reaction to her scared rabbit run
was responsible for her uneasiness. Why was she unable to reach him or Mrs.
Thatcher? Mostly, that’s what worried her. If only she had his family’s
telephone numbers.

She
tasted the fried turkey and Chance’s image the night he skulked in the darkness
near the store sprang in front of her eyes. It was time for her to admit to a
painful and well-learned lesson. It was better to know what went on with Chance
than to be in the dark and guessing.

“I
love him no matter the fright I feel.”

Her
overnight bag bounced on the mattress as she hurriedly packed a few necessities
and called for a taxi. Another call to change the tickets purchased earlier had
her a reserved first-class seat on the red-eye to New Orleans. Angela delivered
her uneaten plate of food to the kitchen where she spooned it into a
refrigerator dish to eat later. Dashing upstairs, she gathered her coat, purse
and bag to hightail it to the airport. All of her belongings set at the side
entrance ready for her speedy exit. Telling her parents about her spur-of-
the-moment trip had to wait to the last minute.

“Cookie?”
It was Connie toting an ice bucket for a refill. Her look said she missed
nothing.

“Oh,
hi, Mama.”

“Oh,
hi, Mama,” she mocked with no humor wrapped around the words. “Do I want to
hear what you have up your sleeve?”

A
horn blew outside and Angela chased down the sound to be sure it was for her.

“Spending
a couple of days with a friend. I’ll be back to celebrate Christmas with you
and Daddy.” Her hand rested at her back, fingers crossed.

“What
friend?”

“God,
Mama. Why the third degree?”

“Is
it someone we know? Someone you had lunch with today?”

How
could she answer without telling a bald-face lie. “It’s someone you know. I had
lunch with Goldie today.” Two unrelated sentences. Not exactly a lie.

The
horn sounded with more persistence this time and Angela opened the door to
acknowledge the driver.

“I’ve
got to tell Daddy. Be right back.” She rushed into the midst of the
party-goers, excused herself for interrupting his conversation and dragged him
to the side. “I’m staying at a friend’s for a couple of days and will be back
before Christmas.” She kissed his cheek. The horn blasted again and she
entreated, “May I borrow your cell?” He lifted it from the holder without any
objections and gave it to her.

“You’ve
told your mother?”

“Yes.
She’s in the kitchen getting ice.”

“Need
any money?” That question rated him another fatherly kiss.

“I’m
good.”

“Be
careful, Cookie.”

“I
will, Daddy. Now, go back to your shindig. Goodnight.” He followed her
exchanging knowing glances with Connie.

Angela
sailed from the room to grab her things, kissed her mother and flew down the
walk to her waiting taxi, feeling ashamed of the gray-area truths she told all
because of her dreaded reluctance to accept Chance’s career choice.

Meanwhile,
Chance drove back into the city after seeing his aunt safely to the coast where
cousins invited her to celebrate the holidays, and beat it to the airport for
his spontaneous mid-night run to Chicago. He mulled over the way Tina
criticized his spontaneity when she was there. This trip would get him off that
loser’s list. Angela loved him enough to free him to live his life as he saw
fit. He loved her more than enough to woo her and therefore, ease her mind
about concerns of his untimely demise.

His
run from long term parking to the departure gate saw unexpected obstacles such
as his badge setting off the metal detector. He cleared his armed off-duty
status with airport security and should have undergone a hand frisk but forgot
about the badge. Once he remedied that oversight, he zoomed down the fairway
hunting for his gate number, arriving in time to hear last call for his flight.

“His
cell rang as he handed over the ticket.

“Crap.
Who the—” His reaction changed once the screen identified the caller’s name.
Chance started down the concourse, anxious about the call at the witching hour
and answered, “Lee, has something happened to Angela?”

“
Chance,”
she exclaimed at hearing his voice. “
I’ve been so worried about you and Mrs.
Thatcher. I called your number all day.”

“Angel,
is everything alright?” He put his body in the curved entry of the concourse
that the baggage personnel used when handling wheelchairs and strollers to
clear the aisle.

“
No,”
she muttered. “
I miss you terribly and want to know if you’ll forgive my
cowardice?”
His silence was crushing. “
I love you, Chance. I don’t know
how I’ll manage knowing you’ll always be in harm’s way. One thing these last
days have taught me…I’d rather be there with you and have you near than be
apart and wonder how you’re doing.”

A
slow smile showed his white teeth. “I’m coming get you, Angel.”

“
No
need for we’ve pushed back from the gate and are experiencing some sort of a
delay at taxiing
.”

“What?”

“
I’m
on a plane as we speak,”
she boasted proudly, “
coming to you.”

“I
love you more than life itself, Angel.” His chest puffed. “You’ll never guess
where I am right now.” Chance realized he held up progress as the glassy eyed
flight attendant frowned his way.

“
You’re
right. But, I know where I want you to be when I touch down in two hours.
”
He laughed and the rarity of the sound heated her all over. “
What’s so
funny?”