Guilty of Love (27 page)

His intensity had scared her—no,
driven her crazy since their weekend getaway. She thought she was
ready, but she wasn’t. She even had the nerve to tell God He would
just have to understand the way she and Malcolm felt about each
other. If she didn’t sleep with Malcolm, another woman
would.

So God fixed her so that when the time
came, she freaked out like Malcolm had turned into Satan himself.
In the end, he suggested separate rooms, assuring her he was okay
with waiting. Days later, Hallison suggested some space which she
got until he coaxed her to attend a concert at Wabash Park with
him. She went through the motions of enjoying herself, but she felt
like a fool, a tease, and a backslider. Hallison sighed as her
intercom buzzed, interrupting her nagging thoughts.

“
Miss Dinkins, your two
o’clock appointment is here.”

Refocusing, Hallison answered the
receptionist who manned the front entrance, “Thanks, Sherri. Send
her in.”

Standing, she extended her hand to
welcome a stunning plus-sized African-American woman who gracefully
walked into her office, exuding self-confidence and an uncommon
friendliness. After a six-week extensive job search, interviewing,
and testing, Hallison was relieved to fill a job vacancy with a
qualified sistah.

“
Paula Silas, I’m Hallison
Dinkins, Director of Personnel.” They shook hands.

Hallison had already reviewed Paula’s
file. A Washington University MBA graduate, Paula was bilingual,
speaking fluent Chinese. She had been instrumental in her previous
employer’s merger with Asian entrepreneurs, wanting to invest in
the American consumer lending market. Paula had also worked in
consumer loans since college.

Bright eyes and a made-for-camera
smile graced a honey-colored, oval face that hinted of
sophistication. Paula had the prettiest features—even actress
Mo’nique would have to agree
.
Taking a seat, within minutes,
Hallison felt like she was chatting with an old girlfriend over
lunch instead of hiring an applicant.

“
I like your purple suit,
and that gold scarf really brings out the highlights in your hair,”
Hallison complimented.

Blushing, Paula fingered her layered
cut. “Funny, I was admiring your blue pinstripe suit. You’re
workin’ it with your height.”

“
Thank you. Now, this
meeting is just a formality because the bank’s vice president
highly recommended you. From the looks of your experience, business
acumen, and the glowing comments from your professional references,
you should be able to handle the chief credit manager position here
with ease. Welcome aboard.”

The woman closed her eyes and clutched
her fists before pumping one hand in the air. “Praise the Lord.
Thank you, Jesus, and Miss Dinkins,” Paula’s eyes twinkled as she
gave praise. “I knew this was my job. I knew it. God told me so
this morning.”

Not the “J” word. He didn’t have
anything to do with this. There goes any lunch, shopping
invitations, or girlfriend chats. Hallison sat with a plastic smile
without responding to Paula’s outburst. Inwardly, she rolled her
eyes.
God just won’t leave me alone.
“My secretary has your
paperwork to sign, if we agree on the starting salary of one
hundred twenty thousand dollars.”

Hallison avoided church people like
shoplifters dodged store security. A red flag should’ve gone up the
moment she saw her name. Silas was Apostle Paul’s preaching
companion. She wasn’t up for any sermonettes at work.

“
God is so good,” Paula’s
voice shook. “That’s the amount the Lord gave me.”

People who spent time in prayer made
Hallison uncomfortable, and shaking Paula’s outstretched hand was
unthinkable. She might try some type of “touch and appoint
handshake.” When Paula stood to leave, Hallison unbuttoned her
knee-length pinstripe coat jacket to keep her hands
busy.

“
Thank you, Miss Dinkins.
May God richly bless you.”

I surely hope not! That seems to be
the source of my troubles
. Hallison collapsed in her chair
after Paula floated out of her office, humming an old-time church
praise-and-worship song. “Way too many people are praying for me,
that’s what’s making it hard for me to do what I want.”

Jeremiah 3: “
Turn, O backsliding
children. For I am married unto you,”
seemed to crawl across
Hallison’s mind. It was a well recited verse in sanctified
churches. Hallison sulked, folding her arms. “Then divorce me,
God,” Hallison growled through clenched teeth. Why couldn’t God
understand that she didn’t want to be saved?

“
My thoughts are not your
thoughts, neither are your ways My ways. Isaiah
fifty-five.”

“
I’m going crazy,” Hallison
said out loud.

“
My sheep know My
voice.”

Parke had gotten the sign from God,
even if Cheney hadn’t. He could deal with her abortion as long as
it wasn’t his kid, but the barren part slapped him. She was no
longer a serious contender in his “possible workable relationship”
book.

When he considered calling other
female contacts, guilt punched him. What options did Cheney have?
I had nothing to do with that.
He refused to lose this mind
game.

It was Thanksgiving Day, and the
holiday went hand in hand with the three Jamieson brothers.
Hallison would be latched to Malcolm’s arm. His mother, no doubt,
would be cuddled next to his dad with her feet tucked under her,
dozing. His dad would alternate between watching her as she slept
and the football game.

And then there was Cameron. Parke
hadn’t seen his youngest brother in months, since the college
sophomore opted to stay in Boston and work the previous
summer.

Soft Christmas jazz filtered
throughout Parke’s house. Humming,
Jingle Bells
, he slipped
into a shirt as powerful images of Cheney’s vulnerability drowned
out the music. So what if he’d been avoiding her? “She can’t
advance my cause. I want a family.”

Shame stabbed his heart. “There’s
nothing I can do!” he shouted to an imaginary opponent. “I’m Parke
Kokumuo Jamieson VI. My destiny is to continue the African legacy.”
He had to erase Cheney from his memory, but what about his heart?
Pursuing her would be senseless. If only he would stop the battle
of wills with his heart.

She had determined her destiny.
Despite witnessing her misery, Parke’s seventh great-grandfather
had chosen the path for all first-born Jamieson men. Suddenly, a
misty black smoke covered his eyes. Glimpses of his past bed
partners faded in and out.

Faintly, Parke heard a
whimper. Children walked in front of him. If he tried to touch
them, they evaporated. Then Parke recognized himself slumping to
the ground, bawling pitifully. Jabs of severe pain pierced his
stomach, nausea crawled up his throat.

Whimpers increased to
moans as unbearable physical pain and unforgettable mental anguish
attacked him from all directions. An infant appeared. In his heart,
he knew it was his son, the next generation. Parke ached to hold
him, but the child vanished as an older version zoomed passed on a
tricycle. “Don’t leave!” but the boy faded away.

The child had grown to a
young man; tall and magnificently handsome, accepting his high
school diploma. Instead of bright eyes with hope for the future,
they scolded him for what could’ve been. It had been selfishly
snatched away all in the name of love.

Emotionally exhausted and
tormented, Parke saw himself old, bitter, lonely, and unforgiving.
There were no sons or grandkids or great-grandkids. He wanted out
of the nightmare, now! As requested, the scenes vanished as fast as
they had appeared.

Panting, Parke blinked and looked
around. Yes, he was still in his home. “What kind of torment was
that?” Dazed, his heart raced, his pulse pounded, and his hands
shook as he attempted to grip his car keys. When his phone rang, he
checked his caller ID. “I feel like I’ve just been to abortion hell
and back. I can’t deal with Annette’s witnessing right now.” Parke
raced out of his house as if the dream were chasing him.

A while later and almost sane again,
Parke arrived at his parents’ home.
It was only my mind playing
tricks on me
, he tried to convince himself. He scanned the
block as the scent of smoke from wood-burning fireplaces drifted
past his nostrils.

He was about to put his key into the
lock when an unprovoked image of Cheney flashed before his eyes.
Parke forcefully shoved it to the back of his mind and heart, and
went inside. The aroma of turkey, dressing, and baked goods
assaulted Parke’s senses. He rubbed his stomach before he was
tackled from behind and rammed into a wall.

“
Gotcha, man.”

Reacting swiftly, Parke managed to get
his brother in a bear hold. “Cameron, you’ll never get the upper
hand on me.”

“
PJ, I know you and Cameron
aren’t wrestling in my house! Take that horse play outside,”
Charlotte scolded humorously from the dining room.

The brothers exchanged mischievous
glances before Parke stepped back and examined his baby brother who
was his height, but thinner. Cameron Daniel Jamieson was the quiet
intellect of the family, winning more than two-hundred and
fifty-thousand dollars in college scholarships. He chose MIT in
Boston where he said the city seemed to have more college students
than residents and cab drivers than police cars.

His wavy black hair was cut in a
stylish fade, emphasizing his boyish look. He wore a large
gray-and-red MIT sweatshirt with baggy jeans.

“
Man, every time you come
home, you’re trouble,” Parke teased, hugging his brother, then
patting his shoulder.

“
What else are baby
brothers good for?” Cameron replied in a deep baritone that
contradicted his childish statement.

The front door opened again, and a
gust of wind swept Malcolm inside. He looked sinister, dressed in a
stylish camel-brown Indiana Jones hat, matching suede jacket, and
worn jeans. His dark sunglasses and beard added to his mysterious
demeanor.

Losing interest in Parke, Cameron
strolled over to Malcolm and lifted him inches in a bear
hug.

Grinning, Parke nodded to Malcolm.
“Hey, lookin’ good, bro. I can’t wait to see Hallison’s matching
ensemble. Where is she?”

Malcolm shrugged. His nostrils flared,
indicating he was determined not to say anything during the
standoff.

Cameron copied Parke’s stance. “I’ve
heard about Hallison all the way in Boston. Why didn’t you bring
her?”

Removing his shades, Malcolm’s scowl
deepened, conveying any discussion about his woman was forbidden.
“Not now, PJ, Cam.”

What was going on with the Jamieson
men? Parke had a bad dream while wide awake, and now Malcolm was
tightlipped about his inseparable woman. Before he could
interrogate, his parents interrupted.

Charlotte, arms opened wide and
wearing a bright smile, glided into the foyer. The elder Parke
eagerly followed, beaming proudly at his sons.

The brothers stopped their silent
communication, gracing their mother with soft kisses on her cheek,
and their dad with loud pats on the back and hearty
handshakes.

“
It’s good to see my boys
together again. Malcolm, where’s Hali? Is she meeting you here?”
Charlotte asked.

Parke wanted to know that, too. It was
a known fact among the Jamiesons that Malcolm and Hallison were not
only attached at the hip, but in their hearts.

“
She couldn’t make it,”
Malcolm answered, but didn’t explain.

“
Oh.” Charlotte looked
surprised as she looped her arm through Malcolm’s and led her
family to the dining room table, saying nothing else, but wearing
that I’ll-get-the-scoop-later expression.

After they blessed the food, Cameron
dominated the dinner conversation. When he bit into a homemade
roll, he licked his lips. “Mmm, I’ve missed your cooking,
Mama.”

“
We hadn’t noticed,” their
father joked, cramming a forkful of dressing in his mouth. “How are
your studies?”

“
Excellent.” Cameron turned
to Parke. “I thought Mama said you were stalking a neighbor.
Cheney, isn’t it?”

The mere mention of Cheney’s name made
Parke slightly uncomfortable. Images of what she suffered kept
sneaking into the corners of his mind. “Stalking is not my style.
We’ve clashed on several issues. Anyway, it’s over before anything
really started.”

The elder Parke didn’t hide his
disappointment. “Oh? I concluded something different when I
witnessed the battle of the sexes.”

“
We were just playing a
game, Dad,” Parke stated.

His dad had the nerve to sulk. “That’s
too bad, PJ. She seemed to pull your strings, and I loved her wit
that one time I met her. What a shame.”

Parke could no longer taste the
cranberry sauce and turkey. He was dumbfounded to think he could
dismiss Cheney from his family’s inquiries so easily.

“
Malcolm, where is Hali? I
was hoping Cam would have a chance to meet her,” Charlotte asked,
changing the subject.