Read Guilty of Love Online

Authors: Pat Simmons

Tags: #inspirational romance, #christian romance, #family relationships, #africanamerican romance, #love romance, #foster parenting, #abortion and guilt feelings, #guilt and shame, #genealogy research, #happiness at last

Guilty of Love (31 page)


Did you know that when I
was expressing my feelings passionately during lovemaking, it
wasn’t love, but lust and fornication? Hell is filled with
fornicators. That blew my mind. Once I stopped skipping over
passages in the Bible and earnestly took a long look at what was
written, my life didn’t reflect Christ. I had been foolin’
myself.”

Why was she discussing what happened
in her bedroom? That abortion dream or whatever he experienced was
wild enough. This conversation was becoming exhausting and making
him nauseated. “I can see you’ve been studying. Don’t worry about
me.”


Is it wrong to worry about
people you care about and to keep my friends from the pit of
hell?”

Parke’s thoughts drifted to Cheney. He
had to get rid of Annette and her church talk. After giving some
lame excuse, they ended the call. Two hours later, he stood erect
in a military stance outside Cheney’s front door and knocked. He
smiled at the remnants of his ice roses on her porch. He was
dressed in a black full-length leather coat, gloves, a turtleneck,
pleated pants, and leather boots. Parke felt like he was on a
mission impossible.

It was time to turn the
impossibilities into possibilities. For good luck, Parke splashed
on some Black Suede cologne his mother had given him for Christmas.
The decision to intimidate, impress, and melt Cheney’s heart had
been made. Today he would go in for the kill.
Look out, Cheney
Reynolds, you’re now under attack.

Cheney’s eyes sparkled when she opened
the door. She tried to disguise her delight at seeing him by
twisting her lips in annoyance. Leaning against the doorframe, she
lifted a brow. “Mr. Jamieson, what are you doing here?”


Merry Christmas, I came to
deliver your gifts.” If Cheney liked his new look, she didn’t
comment as she continued her scrutiny.


I didn’t know I was on
your list.”

He moved forward, locking eyes with
her in a showdown stare. “You are my list, and everything I want
for Christmas,” he confessed in a husky voice.


Umm-hmm. What’s with the
new
Matrix
look?” She stroked her chin. “I like the new
goatee. You’re living dangerously now, or you’re trying to look
it.”


I’ve been thinking
dangerously, and it involves you and me.” He held up his hand. “And
don’t say there is no you and me.”


I won’t.”

He grinned triumphantly. “Good,
because beginning today I’m that man who can build you up, support
your goals, and who will love you despite past mistakes.” His voice
softened. “And fulfill the dreams you thought were
lost.”


You can’t replace what
I’ve lost.”


I’ll die trying,
Cheney.”

She intrigued him when she resisted.
Her strength complemented his male might. With a sly grin, he
removed his leather gloves. He reached inside his coat pocket and
withdrew two small gold foil-wrapped boxes. “Merry
Christmas.”

Her expression was priceless. She
looked truly surprised, hesitating before reaching for them. She
began to fumble with one box. “I don’t know what to
say.”

He took the liberty of putting his arm
around her shoulder, nudging her back, and inviting himself in.
“Say thank you.” He paused. “Say your heart is melting.”

Cheney didn’t respond, but her eyes
watered. Parke commanded his hands not to reach out to caress the
worry lines above her eyebrows as she bowed her head, fingering the
gold ribbons. “I didn’t get you anything.”


Then give me you,” he
whispered.


Stop flirting with me,”
she warned with a frown, but she couldn’t contain the bright smile
that peeped through.


See, that’s where I’m
having a problem. I can’t.” Parke removed his coat and plopped down
on the sofa. He stretched his arm across the back like he lived
there. “I’m not going anywhere until you open the box, even if it’s
next Christmas.”


That might give Grandma BB
a reason to load her shotgun.” They both laughed.

Eagerly, she opened one gift that
contained a dazzling tennis bracelet. She thanked him. It was the
other box that fascinated her as she pulled out a lotion-size
bottle, void of any rich, creamy, or sweet-smelling lotion.
Instead, tiny rolls of colorful paper were stuffed inside. Knitting
her brows together, she puckered her full lips. “A bottle. Thank
you?” she stuttered.


It’s part Christmas, part
Kwanzaa, and part commitment gift.” He gently shook the bottle.
“Here, take one out.”

Cheney fingered a lavender scroll. “Do
you stay awake all night and concoct these ideas, or is this a
sample from years of on-the-job training with other
women?”


These concoctions, as you
call them, are not stale or leftovers. No woman could’ve prepared
me for you. My motives are as original as you are unique.” He held
her stare.


O-okay. She untied a satin
ribbon holding the paper like a diploma. It was no bigger than half
the size of a business card. She unrolled the paper.
Happiness
is yours.


That’s one of fifty love
notes that represent all the wonderful emotions locked inside you.
I’ve got your key, baby.” He memorized a moment of surrender. “You
don’t have to go looking for whatever is in that bottle. I’ll bring
it to you. I love you, Cheney.”


When did you fall in love
with me, Parke? Last night?”


The evening at the
library, the makeshift picnic, the walk in the snow,
the—”

Cheney jumped up with the bottle in
one hand, balling her other hand in a tight fist. “Are you crazy?
What part of I am not the one do you not understand?” she yelled.
“I can’t have children,” she emphasized the last word. “Love with
me? My peace, dreams, and world died the day I allowed my baby to
be ripped from me.”

With measured slowness, Parke also
stood, using his inches to tower over her. He let her fume as she
slapped a hand against her hip, but he didn’t back down.


Did you put a baby in that
jar? That’s the only way you’ll get one from me.”

Grinning, he stepped closer. “Yes, as
a matter of fact, I did, more than one.”


I’ve lost my baby, but
clearly you’ve lost your mind.”


No, Cheney, I’ve found the
only woman who I can love.”


What about your bloodline?
I can’t believe you’re willing to give that up.”

Tenderly, Parke pulled her into a
non-threatening embrace. “I’ve already made reservations for you in
my life. I’m relinquishing my birthright to Malcolm. You don’t need
the foster kids. You’ve got me.”

Her jaw dropped. “I think you’re a
sensitive, foolish, and handsome man with a fascinating family
history, but I can’t mess up your life just because I messed up
mine.”

He tightened his hold. “You aren’t
going to push me away.” Cheney jerked out of his arms as if to
prove some type of point. He didn’t get it.


Who and what tribe is
going to stop me?”


Me.” He scowled. “If
you’re looking for a fight, you’ve met your match, baby.” Parke
reached for his leather coat and marched to the door, then glanced
over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in ten minutes. Dress for battle,
very warmly. The fight is on.”

 

***

 

Perplexed and amused, Cheney watched
Parke storm out of her door before she stomped upstairs to change.
Why do I put up with him?
she thought as she got dressed.
Because he puts up with you,
a small voice whispered. “Who
does he think he is?” she mumbled, not knowing what he had planned.
Inwardly, she enjoyed his challenges.

True to his word, Parke returned
minutes later, dressed in snow gear. After locking her door, Cheney
climbed into his Envoy, wearing so many clothes that the seat belt
barely accommodated her. She observed Parke as he steered his SUV,
no music, no conversation, just his stern expression, which she
found comical.


Where are we going?”
Cheney finally asked.


Forest Park,” he answered
without looking at her.

Soon, he parked in front of Art Hill
across from the art museum. The large hill was home to
snowboarders, sled riders, and anyone who enjoyed tumbling in the
snow. He opened his door, and walked around to Cheney’s side, all
without saying a word. When he released her seat belt, he gripped
the sides of her coat and lifted her out.

Without knowing what he had planned,
Cheney was suspicious. “Let me down!”

He ignored her outrage as he stomped
hard, carrying her to a tree. “This is your side, mine is over
there.” He pointed a few yards. Parke planted his hands on his
waist. “Whoever wins the fight, wins the other’s heart, totally.”
He marched away.

Were Paki and Elaine this focused,
headstrong and crazy romantic?
she wondered.


You have ten minutes to
stockpile your weapons. Remember, winner takes all.”

Was he serious? Cheney watched as
Parke rolled snowballs, then she hurriedly made her own pile. She
didn’t realize she had run out of time until the first snowball
whizzed by her head.

Laughter echoed through the air. “That
was just a warning. C’mon, sweetheart, give me all ya
got.”

Armed with two snowballs in each hand,
Cheney shot daggers. No, he didn’t almost hit her then call her
sweetheart. It was on
.
She launched snowballs like she was
loading a cannon.

He had hit her everywhere, but her
face, because she wasn’t ducking fast enough behind the tree. When
her competitive spirit kicked in, Cheney granted no mercy as she
aimed to wipe off Parke’s silly grin. Despite the cold temperature,
the snow, and standing in a park on Christmas Day, she was having a
ball. Out of nowhere, several preteens approached and offered
Cheney reinforcement. She grinned. “Sure, why not?”

Parke began running and ducking as one
snowball after another clobbered him until another group of kids
came to his rescue, attempting to even the score. As the crowd grew
to a mob-like proportion, he tried to signal a time-out. It didn’t
work. Failing to call a ceasefire, they met halfway, making
themselves targets.

Grabbing Cheney’s gloved hand; Parke
tugged her out of harm’s way. “We better get out of here before
they make us a pair of snowmen.” They dashed to the Envoy torpedoed
by snowballs. As Parke disarmed the alarm, she assumed they would
jump in and take off. Instead, he took his time opening her door
and lifted her onto the seat, shielding her from more blows. “The
battle is over, Cheney. It’s time to let it go. You’re no match for
the warrior. What I conquer, I keep.”


You didn’t conquer
me.”


Didn’t I?” Parke closed
his cold lips over hers. It wasn’t the same tender kiss he’d
bestowed on her the night she went ballistic after hearing Larry’s
name. Cheney should’ve taken issue with him then, but the gesture
was so comforting that she welcomed it. She heard the snowballs
hitting the door and Parke’s back, but that didn’t stop him from
branding her. When he pulled away, he whispered, “That should
convince you.”

Stunned and dazed, she didn’t respond.
On the ride home, Parke blasted the heat and filled the air with
musical instruments that tested the depths of love and passion
through high-pitched notes. Parke was becoming addictive and had
more strategies up his sleeves than Brian and checkers. She could
never predict his next move.

As he slowed in front of her house, he
silenced the music. “Merry Christmas. You’re going to have to
accept my love.”

His playfulness was gone, replaced
with serious brown eyes that were soft and inviting. Retreating,
Cheney admitted she had lost the battle. Her heart was settling
into a comfort zone. Expecting Parke’s comical antics, he showed
her his tenderness and gentleness, which were incredibly soothing.
Yes, he was beginning to melt the ice that covered her heart. She
smiled. “Merry Christmas, Parke.”

He stared at her lips. “If I walk you
to your door, I promise you, you’ll be kissed again.”

Giddy with anticipation, she raced out
of the vehicle. She heard Parke’s laugh fade as she jumped onto her
porch. Once inside, she tugged out of her snow gear and changed
clothes. She was in good spirits when she picked up the phone to
call her parents, and then realized they had left her a message.
Cheney, I called to invite you over for Christmas bunch, but I
see you aren’t there. Maybe next year.
She replayed the message
three times, she had heard. Punching in her parents’ number, her
mother answered. “Mom, I just got in, I can be there in about an
hour,” Cheney said hopeful. This would be their first Christmas
together since she returned home.


We all have eaten and are
on our way to the theater. We did get you presents. I’ll drop by
tomorrow. Got to go. The movie starts in thirty minutes,” Gayle
ended the call.

Cheney wiped away a lone tear. “Whew,
I must’ve been a witch five years ago.” She was so removed from her
family circle, with all the power God supposedly had, even He
couldn’t fix that. Cheney showered, dressed, and went next door to
have Christmas dinner with Mrs. Beacon.

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