Guilty of Love (38 page)

“
Let’s join hands. Whatever
you need, God’s got it.” Dyson bowed his head and closed his eyes.
“Father, in the name of Jesus, we stand before You, thanking
You…”

Making sure he had a strong grip on
Kami’s small hands, Parke kept one eye open. Even Dre’s head was
bowed.
We’re standing on a street corner!

Dyson continued, “God, You know our
requests before we ask, and You’re able to grant them. Draw us
closer to Your great salvation and give us peace in Jesus’s name,
Amen.”

“
Amen,” Annette
repeated.

The kids and Cheney echoed their Amens
while Parke mumbled his.

After releasing hands, Annette gave
Cheney a bear hug. “The Holy Ghost is telling me you need something
from God. Whatever it is, it’s yours for the asking.”

A tear slid down Cheney’s face. Parke
wanted to strangle Annette for upsetting her. After four tries, he
was able to pull Annette and Cheney apart to go. Finally, back in
his SUV, the children dozed within minutes as Cheney stared out the
window. “Tired?”

Leaning her head against the headrest,
she faced him, smiling. “Exhausted, but I had a great time. There’s
a certain peace about Annette. I like her.”

“
You would,” he said
sarcastically. “Let’s get these rascals back to your house and in
bed. I want us to talk for a few minutes.”

“
Tonight?” Cheney’s voice
slurred.

“
Yeah, tonight. I need to
explain about those women earlier.”

“
No need. I knew you were a
certified player.”

“
I’m simply a good man who
has been looking for a good woman who fit the profile.”

“
Mmm-hmm.”

Cheney’s eyelids drooped. She had
taken in three kids and had a reason to be worn out. “Okay, another
night, but I want you to go straight to bed, Miss
Reynolds.”

Mouthing
okay
, she slowly
closed her eyes.

Parke rubbed his thumb against her
soft hand. She was beautiful. He turned his attention back to the
highway and drove his sleeping cargo to Benton Street.

Around ten-thirty, Parke entered his
quiet house, showered, and prepared for bed. He was knocked out as
soon as his head hit the pillow. When the phone startled him out of
his sleep, Parke hunted for his cordless and pushed Talk,
“Yeah.”

“
Sorry to wake you,”
Cheney’s drowsy voice apologized.

Alarmed, Parke shot up in bed. “Please
tell me nothing’s the matter.”

“
Well, the on-call
placement coordinator called. She’s bringing me a seven-year-old
girl who’s the victim of neglect.”

“
What?” Parke jumped out of
bed, searching for his clothes. “I forbid it! You have enough
kids.” He was furious, buttoning his shirt and missing holes. “I’m
on my—”

Softly sobbing into the phone, Cheney
mumbled, “I thought I was doing the right thing. I can’t turn any
child away, but this is too much. Maybe this wasn’t
God.”

“
Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m
on my way.” He disconnected, stressed. “This is not the answer and
it’s going to stop, now, tonight.”

When Parke turned the corner, he
realized he was only wearing one sock. Too bad, he wasn’t turning
back. He stormed on Cheney’s porch moments before the social worker
who was toting a little girl who looked like she hadn’t eaten a
meal in weeks.

“
I’m sorry for the
confusion, but Cheney is about to break. She’s an excellent foster
mother. However, she can’t handle any more emergency cases right
now. Please find another home for this child tonight. I’m
sorry.”

The social worker nodded. “I
understand, but Miss Reynolds agreed. I’d hoped I could place this
little one with foster parents instead of putting her in our
residential home,” she explained, then returned to her car with the
child.

Taking a deep, satisfying breath,
Parke opened the door to find Cheney curled up on her sofa, dozing.
He lifted her head, sat down, then replaced her head on his
lap.

“
Where is she?” Cheney
asked, yawning.

“
She’s going somewhere else
tonight.” He paused. “Cheney?”

“
Hmmm?”

“
I love you, and I think
you’re a special lady, but after three foster kids, I don’t think
I’ll mind if it’s just you and me.”

Her lids fluttered opened. “What are
you saying?”

“
I’m saying, let me spoil
you, pamper you, and love you. Make you my priority.”

“
You have to give up too
much for me.”

Bending down, he brushed a kiss
against her cheek. “Not more than what you’ve given up. You’re
worth it, baby.”

“
I guess it’s time for me
to admit defeat. I thought the foster kids would help ease the
guilt clinging to my insides, but it’s still there.” Cheney
whimpered. “I’m becoming too attached to a temporary happiness.
Maybe this wasn’t a sign from God.”

His eyes also watered. After weeks
with Kami, Parke was attached, too. They only had one more week
together. He hoped Annette was really praying for them because
Cheney was searching for something he didn’t know how to give
her.

Cheney sat up and looked him over.
“Parke?”

“
Yeah, baby?” he snuggled
her closer.

“
You only have on one
sock.”

“
I know.” One sock and a
half of a brain for letting her do this foster parenting
thing.

The call came unexpectedly. Wilma
Applewhite normally communicated with Cheney. So why was she
calling Parke.

“
I’m sorry to bother you on
a Sunday morning, but it just hit me,” Wilma announced with just
enough of frantic in her voice to cause panic.

“
What?” Parke had the
strangest feeling this wasn’t good news concerning Kami.

“
There was a child by the
same name as yours in our foster care system.”

“
Was?” His voice faded as
if his last breath escaped. He lowered to the bed, but nearly
missed it. Confused, he wondered if someone had moved his bed. “Are
you sure?”

“
I’m pretty sure, but I’ll
check the records once I get into my office tomorrow. I don’t know
where the child is now or if he’s been adopted, or is still in our
system.”

Closing his eyes, Parke didn’t know
how to respond. Did he have a son out there? Uncertainty battled
with joy and fear. In the end confusion reared its head. Maybe the
vision he saw wasn’t about enduring an abortion. Maybe it was about
a child he didn’t know existed, a first born son, his only son.
“You’ll let me know for certain?”

“
Of course,” Wilma assured
him before they said their good-byes.

Parke finished dressing for church,
but slower this time as his mind wandered. By the time he arrived
at Cheney’s house an hour later, all distractions were gone when
she opened her door.
Wow.
There stood a stunning replica of
a
Vogue
magazine model. He had never seen her look more
beautiful in a dress. Forget the call from Wilma. The moment was
all about Cheney Reynolds.

“
Wow,” he repeated aloud,
exhaling. He leaned against the step up to her foyer, placing his
right hand over his heart. “You slay me.”

Ignoring his dramatics, Cheney pouted
for a kiss. She wiggled her silky eyebrows, signaling her
impatience. Parke obliged. “Thanks, I needed that.”

“
Nervous?”

“
Hopeful.”

His woman
. Parke’s eyes danced
as he stroked his goatee. “Forget what they say about the woman in
red. You are sizzlin’ in black.” He jammed two fingers in his mouth
and a whistle escaped. Cheney glowed as spiral curls flowed down
her back. His eyes were glued to her sling-back pumps and black
sheer stockings hugging sculptured legs.

“
Where have you been hiding
that dress?”

“
It’s new. I wanted to look
nice.”

“
Done. You look more than
nice.” Even though the dress was inches below her knees—modest for
church—it hinted of her shapely places. Parke closed his eyes and
inhaled an unfamiliar scent. “Hmm, you smell very, very
good.”

“
You’re making me blush
with all this attention.” Cheney mouthed
thank you
. “You
look very handsome.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Thank
you.”

“
For what?”

“
For always caring about
the part of me I’ve buried so deep inside that only you’ve been
able to reach.” She sighed with the saddest expression. “Because of
you, I met your friend, Annette. I’m glad she invited us to
church.”

He disengaged himself from Cheney and
began to pace her living room, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Listen, I received the strangest call from Wilma this
morning.”

“
Wilma? Why did she call
you? What did she want?” Cheney frowned.

“
She asked me if I knew
there was a boy in foster care with a name the same as
mine.”

“
Oh.” Cheney searched for
the nearest chair and dropped down.

Parke couldn’t read her expression. “I
may
have a son somewhere. Or some woman gave her son my name
as a joke. Or some rejected lover decided to have a baby who could
be mine and gave him away as punishment. It’s all speculation on my
part. If this boy proves to be my son, I plan to take possession
immediately.”

“
I’m happy for you.” She
sniffed and leaned back into the chair. “This is all so strange. I
mean, I had an abortion, which sterilized me. I become a foster
parent to right my wrong. I meet this neighborhood
stalker—”

“
I’m a lover, baby, not a
stalker. You are my princess.” Parke smiled and sat in the twin
chair close to her.

She smiled back and counted out the
facts. “Anyway, for no reason, but to make me happy, you’ve been
there for me. Parke, I’ve never been surer about anything in my
life, except if my child had been born it would’ve been a girl. I
don’t think you need me to tell you. You know that child is yours.
I can’t explain it, Parke, but I know it.”

Without saying it, Parke did feel an
instant kinship. He just needed to find this boy, the mother, or
have a paternity test to prove it.

“
You’ll make a wonderful
father.”

“
You humble me. My desire
will always be to fulfill your needs, Cheney.” Her words had
touched his soul. Checking his watch, Parke sighed. “Let’s go
praise the Lord. Annette may already have the church van to pick us
up. When I told her we were coming, she started shouting
Hallelujah.” He didn’t mention that Annette told him she sensed
Cheney needed deliverance. Had Annette become a prophetess or
something? Deliverance from what?

“
Let me grab my purse. I’ll
be right back.” Cheney stood and hurried upstairs.

As Parke waited, he thought this was
supposed to be an ordinary Sunday, taking an exceptional woman to
an ordinary church, the day was proving to be interesting. The
previous night, they asked Mrs. Beacon to babysit. Parke didn’t
want the children to become restless, especially if he did.
“Church!” she had shrieked into the phone. “If no one’s dead, what
ya going for? Take those kids to the park for a picnic or to a
movie.”

After convincing Mrs. Beacon that
Cheney might enjoy it, she agreed.

Cheney returned with her purse and
Parke chanced another glimpse of the captivating creature. He was
tempted to take Mrs. Beacon’s advice to skip church, kidnap Cheney,
and get lost in her sweet kisses.
Not a bad idea,
he
thought.

Her heels clicked against the hardwood
floor as she walked across the room to answer the phone. “Hello?”
She laughed. “It’s Grandma BB. She says Kami’s tearing up her house
trying to get over here. She was looking out the window when you
came.”

Parke stretched out his hand. “I guess
we better stop next door.”

“
We’re on our way out the
door,” Cheney said, disconnecting.

“
You know, baby, we could
skip church and enjoy the day, just you and me.”

Cheney paused from locking her door.
“You don’t want to go?” She tried to hide it, but Parke heard the
disappointment in her voice.

Not really. I’d rather spend the
day alone with you.
Parke stuffed his hands in his pants
pockets. “Just kid—”

As they turned around, Cheney and
Parke stopped in mid-step. Dre, Sasha, and her neighbor, holding a
squirming Kami, posed picture-perfect on Mrs. Beacon’s
porch.

“
You look pretty, Miss
Cheney,” Sasha yelled, waving.

“
Yeah,” Dre agreed,
grinning. “You clean up real good. You look better than the chicks
at the baseball game.”

“
Remind me to have a
man-to-man talk with you later, Dre,” Parke warned.

“
If you stay here any
longer, you can play poker with us,” Mrs. Beacon offered with a
mischievous grin. Kami moved hysterically in her arms, screaming
his name. Her possessiveness always gave him an undeserved sense of
pride. “That’s my girl.” He crossed the lawn to receive her loving
hug and mushy kisses. Cheney followed.