Guilty of Love (21 page)

“
Why did he run away?” a
young girl asked.

“
Because he wanted to be
free,” Parke replied simply before exciting the kids with a belly
laugh. He knew how to turn the gory details of slavery into comical
adventures. “They never did catch Paris. You know why?”

“
Why?” the children
screamed.

“
Because Paris had lots of
disguises, including hats. He wore preacher’s clothes, women’s,
even the bad guys—patroller’s clothes. He made dummy slaves from
scarecrows to trick catchers.”

“
What did he eat?” one boy
shouted.

“
Fruit from the
trees.”

“
What did he drink?”
another boy asked.

“
Milk from
cows.”

“
Where did he sleep?” the
first young girl demanded.

“
High in the trees or deep
in the caves,” Parke whispered. Searching the crowd, he winked at
Cheney. Blushing, she bewitched him speechless. He cleared his
throat. “Paris traveled near back roads and made animal sounds to
scare away his enemies.”

“
Did patrollers ever catch
him?” Cheney quizzed.

“
Yeah,” the children
pressed him.

“
Nope. Although he wasn’t
born free, he died free seventy years later. My research shows he
had five sons.” He bowed. “The end.”

***

Cheney wasn’t surprised that Parke
received a hearty applause. With more patience than Santa Claus, he
listened and answered each child’s questions. He didn’t miss a beat
as he followed her movements. Captivated, she absorbed his every
word. Her imagination painted a heroic scene of Paki and Elaine
escaping into the night.

He seemed to put his heart into
everything. At first, his sense of humor was exasperating. The man
had so many different sides to him. Cheney was beginning to look
forward to his visits. It was even entertaining when they argued
about anything.

She focused on Parke’s curly eyelashes
and mustache. He was handsome and intelligent.
He really
resembles Rick Fox
. Cheney sighed, toying with her right
earlobe. He deserves a woman who personifies an Elaine. Old
memories surfaced, piercing Cheney’s heart. Larry’s face popped up
like an unwanted weed.

Why is Parke staring at me?
Ignoring him, Cheney pulled a book from the shelf and scanned the
pages. Seconds later, she had the weirdest sensation of Parke’s
presence. Turning around, he was there.

“
Hi.” Parke’s smile was
inviting.

“
You were wonderful. You
held the children spellbound with Paris’s antics,” Cheney
praised.

“
Yeah, I’m told that
often.” Parke’s lips formed a crooked, mischievous
smile.

She felt like knocking that silly grin
off his face. “Too many compliments definitely go straight to your
head. Not you, the stories, Parkay.” The man was incorrigible, and
Cheney admitted to herself, she liked his
multi-personalities.

Later that night at home, she
reflected on how things were changing in her life, nothing drastic,
but subtle. Mrs. Beacon had become a surrogate mother, Parke an
ally, and she had gained greater respect from the employees she
supervised.

Although Cheney’s family was missing
from the picture, she would no longer beat herself up about it. She
accepted some mistakes couldn’t be corrected. When she mailed thank
you notes for the gifts she received at her housewarming, she
wasn’t surprised that no one in her family made an effort to
respond with a friendly call.

The saving grace was Rainey. Although,
they had hung out together, she called him from time to time and
spoke briefly. Her bitterness was fading, yet she wanted more.
During one of her lunches with Parke, in addition to blessing their
food, he asked God to bless her. Maybe God was starting to. What
was that scripture she thought of when she first moved back home?
With urgency, she wanted to read it. Maybe for once, Imani wasn’t
joking about sending her a Bible. Cheney didn’t own one and didn’t
know how to go about choosing one. She thought about Mrs. Beacon.
She was almost certain her neighbor wouldn’t look at one if it were
dropped on her doorstep like a Yellow Pages Book.

Going to her computer, Cheney signed
on, and Googled Revelation 3:17-18.

On a lazy Sunday afternoon, Parke
coerced Cheney to walk with him to the Whistle Stop for her
favorite weakness—a frozen custard.

“
I can’t believe how
everything is turning out for us.” Parke kicked at a
pebble.

“
What do you mean
us
? Parke, the earth revolves in space, not around you. The
only
us
is us walking to get this dessert.”

“
I see you’re in denial,”
Parke half-joked. Brick walls could be knocked down, but he could
only chip away at Cheney’s cement exterior one piece at a time. He
sensed her withdrawal, so he changed the subject. “I like your hair
down. It suits you. Have I ever told you how beautiful you
are?”

Cheney burst into laughter, elbowing
him in the side. “Am I supposed to return the compliment, or can I
keep it?”

That wasn’t the reaction Parke for
hoping for. He stopped in his tracks and she glanced over her
shoulder with a puzzled look.

“
What?”

“
You can have my car,
house, family, and stocks if we can call a truce.” Extending his
hand, he reached out to her. “Friends?”

She was slow to respond, but conceded
without an argument. “Friends.”

That was too easy. Parke stared. Had
she really agreed? It was one of those crickets chirping, sun
setting, and Cheney smiling moments. As her hair danced with the
wind, he caressed her soft fingers. Her sniffing was his undoing.
“I need a hug, woman.” Somehow, on a busy Ferguson Street, Parke
had touched Cheney, physically and maybe emotionally.

Those memories stayed with Parke the
next day when he arrived home and Malcolm was pulling up to the
curb.

“
Hey, PJ, where you been,
man?”

“
With my
neighbor.”

“
Is this the neighbor
you’re trying to get to our family night?” Parke nodded.
“Newsflash, bro. A neighbor lives next door. She’s at least ten
blocks away.”

“
Five.”

Malcolm smirked. “I stand
corrected.”

“
And I’ve got a problem
because Cheney doesn’t fit my profile.”

“
Then I suggest you either
alter your requirements or destroy them.”

***

Cheney waited for Imani to take her
first sip of cappuccino as they lunched at a café near the St.
Louis airport, then blurted out, “I’m scared.”

Imani didn’t swallow.
“Why?”

“
Parke held my hand, gave
me a hug, and told me I was beautiful—”

Her friend leaned forward. “And the
problem with that is?”

Cheney didn’t have an answer. “And I
bought a Bible.”

Giving Cheney her full attention,
Imani anchored her elbows on the table and rested her chin. “Am I
supposed to be shocked? Do you know how many houses have
one?”

“
Funny.” She smiled for no
reason.

“
It’s nice to have someone
to hold your hand, but what prompted you to go into a bookstore,
number one? And buy a Bible of all things.” Imani tapped two
fingers.

She shrugged, trying to pinpoint a
lightning strike moment. “I don’t know. I was with
Parke—”

“
Him, again.” Imani
snickered. “Okay, continue.”

“
We were at this eatery,
and Parke was scarfing down his sandwich when he remembered to
bless his food. He included me in his prayer to bless his
meal.”

“
So?” Imani picked the
lettuce off her chicken sandwich before taking a bite.

“
Well, when I asked him
why, his response was he had no idea.”

“
Maybe he’s a
Christian.”

Twisting her lips, Cheney poured extra
Ranch dressing her salad, thinking. “I don’t think he’s
not
a Christian.”

“
Good point. Sometimes you
can’t tell the difference. Look at me. I can hang with the best of
them when it comes to praying. Ask me about a scripture, and I’m
googling it. I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t steal that Gideon
Bible from my hotel room.”

Great minds think alike.
Without a Bible, Cheney had done the same thing. Not stealing one,
but Googling to find the answer. Was God talking to her?

“
Back to Prince Parke…”
Imani drew her mind back to their conversation.

“
He reminds me of
Larry.”

“
Girl, you better buy a new
pair of running shoes and take off.” Imani stood and checked her
watch. “My layover is about up. I better get back to the airport.
Stop fighting whatever is happening in your life, and start
praying.”

“
How can you give out
advice that you don’t follow?”

Brushing a kiss against Cheney’s
cheek, Imani grinned. “Easy. I haven’t been tortured for the past
five years.”

Imani’s words were still ringing in
Cheney’s head when she returned home after work. Another gospel
tract had appeared near her front door. This time she was reading
it when her doorbell rang and it was Parke.

“
What’s going on? Why are
you lugging that basket to my house?”

“
It’s filled with goodies
from Schnucks’ deli, fruits, cheeses, and finger sandwiches.”
Schnucks was a locally-owned chain of supermarkets. One was close
by. When she didn’t object, he busied himself, transforming her
small porch into a picnic area. Grinning wickedly, Parke teased,
“Suspicious, Miss Reynolds?”

Cheney folded her arms and leaned
against her doorframe. “Are you buttering me up for a big
investment pitch? Funny, you hardly mention stocks or bonds around
me.”

“
When I’m with you, shop
talk doesn’t come to mind. I’m more interested in our relaxed
atmosphere. We have easy conversation and unforgettable
moments.”

“
Parke, we
argue.”

“
I see it as we discuss,
you respond. I disagree with whatever you say. It’s unrehearsed.
I’m drawn to you, but you’re still pushing me away, but not as
hard.”

She didn’t offer a rebuttal as Parke
tapped his iPod and gospel music filled the air. He waited for her
to sit before reaching for her hand. He bowed his head. Since Parke
was quiet, Cheney assumed he was praying silently, so she bowed her
head.

“
I’m still not sure what to
say, God, except bless Cheney, me, and our food.”

She looked up. “Why do you keep doing
that? Asking God to bless me?”

“
Beats me, it seems as if
good things happen when I do. Personally, I think my friend has
bumped me up to the top of her prayer list. Annette leaves daily
scriptures on my phone. Plus, I know she’s behind the ridiculous
gospel tracts showing up at my door.”

“
Your friend is probably
hitting my house, too.” Cheney bit into her turkey sandwich. “I
wonder if Grandma BB has gotten any.” Her mind wandered as she
swallowed gulps of root beer as if she was dehydrated.

“
Maybe. It’s a good thing
you were home or I’d have camped out on your porch and ate the
whole basket.”

She held back a smile. “Greedy thing.
Grandma BB would’ve called the police.”

They laughed as a cool breeze danced
around them. Soon their food was gone.

“
Actually, Brian was
supposed to teach me how to play Spanish checkers, but something
happened. Since I’m done with the major house renovations, I’m
going to sign up for a cooking class.”

“
What happened with your
boyfriend?”

That was unexpected. She frowned. “Why
would you want to know about Larry?”

Parke bent his knee and rested his arm
on it as he stroked his chin. “I was referring to Brian, but I see
I have to deal with Larry’s ghost, too.”

Embarrassed, she experienced a ‘Want
to Get-A-way commercial’ moment.

“
Listen, I wasn’t going to
say anything—”

She punched him in the arm. “Shut up,
Parkay.” They laughed, then Cheney cleared her throat. “Back to
Brian, he says he
borrowed
his younger sister’s allowance
money to buy a video game, but he forgot to tell her. His memory
loss is costing him two weeks without the computer, phone, or
playing outside.”

He gagged on his sandwich. “Yikes. How
did you find out?”

“
His mother e-mailed me.”
Cheney chuckled.

“
I’m about to test the
waters,” Parke said, changing the mood. “You, Miss Reynolds,
mesmerize me. There’s a cooking school called The Chef’s Kitchen
not far from here that offers monthly cooking classes. I would be
honored to be your partner.”

That was sweet
, she thought.
“You’ve got so many facets to your personality—sometimes you’re
sweet, conceited most of the time, and confusing all the
time.”