Like Slow Sweet Molasses (30 page)

“We’re
an unlikely pair, Angela,” he conceded. “We’re both letting the indiscretions
of our past loves rule us. I confessed to not having a romp with Tina because
it’s true. I wanted to hear the same from you.”

“I
came to share the reasons for my absence with you today because I thought you
were the one person I could count on for understanding. I wanted to see you so
badly.”

“Here
I am, Angela.” He thumped his chest with the flat of his hand. Arms widespread
to receive her, “Come to me.”

“It’s
too late, Chance.” She climbed the stairs leaning heavily on the banister.
“Lock the door when you leave, please.”

Chance,
at a loss for words, watched her disappear into her bedroom and grimaced as the
ultra quietness in the house magnified the metal lock as it boomed into its
iron plate. He toured the charming first floor with his eyes planting the
memories in his heart a fraction behind the love that bloomed there for Angela.
One more wishful glance up the stairs, he retraced his steps, flicked off the
ceiling light, locked the knob and backed out of Angel’s place.

She
was privy to all of his movements after she departed because of his diligence
and hard work. The sight of his wistful looks as he prepared to leave her place
bruised her heart for she knew the depths of his joy when he spent time there
with her. The painful cracks in her heart attested to how much she loved and
would miss him. Racial differences was what she feared would be their downfall.
She never envisioned trust to be their stumbling block. Yet, there it
was—dismantling their future together, chasing him out of her life.

But,
Chance wasn’t so sure their future disintegrated as was proven by the
conversation he now engaged in with his aunt. His size elevens hadn’t crossed
the threshold into the kitchen before she jumped him with her take on things:
from Kelsy’s unruly behavior to Tina’s intrusive visit.

“If
you ask me,” she stepped behind the open door of the refrigerator, “Kelsy’s too
grown for her britches,” popping out with two cans of beer. One plopped in
front of him while she snapped the tab on the other and chugged a swig of the
ice cold brew.

His
roar of laughter lightened his heart and he felt hopeful again. So much so
until he reached over to kiss her forehead. “I can always count on you to cheer
me up, Aunt Belle.”

“Whew,”
she blew. “I took a chance running off at the mouth like that. She’s your
daughter and should have inherited some of your good manners. That Tina—”

“We’re
not going to malign Tina, Aunt Belle.”

“Malign
her my foot. She sets a bad example for that child if she doesn’t step in and
parent when needed. I don’t know how they live in Montana, but, like the cock
on the fence, Kelsy crowed tonight.”

He
had to admit the truth. “Yeah. I was surprised, too.” Chance debated telling
her the Tina story, his eyes shifting around the room when her astute eyes
plugged him.

“What?”

“Angela
had the bad fortune of running into Tina at my place today.”

“That
couldn’t have been good.”

“It
wasn’t,” he admitted. “Tina alluded to having an intimate relationship with me
while here.”

She
made the tsk-tsk sound. “That poor child didn’t fall for that, did she?”

“I
think she did,” he droned.

“Then,
you have to straighten that out.” An assumption occurred. A weathered finger
displaced the bubbles streaming down the cold can while her sharp eyes raked
him over. “You didn’t, did you?”

“Didn’t
what?” he asked for clarification, his eyes holding her hostage.

Bold
as she could be, Belle said, “Sleep with Tina.”

“Aunt
Belle,” he exclaimed. “I’m not in the habit of discussing my bedroom joys or
woes.”

Belle
impacted the conversation by thumping her can on the table. “Yes or no?”

“No.
Crap!
 
I’m not a school boy. You can’t
make me talk if I don’t want to,” he sniveled.

She
smiled a knowing smile. “You’re right.” The can twirled as she swished the last
dregs of beer for the guzzle. “So, how are we going to open Kelsy’s eyes to
becoming a little less judgmental?”

“My
plan is to plant that seed tomorrow. It’ll be our last day together and you can
believe I intend to put it to good use.”

“Is
Tina going?” she pried.

“No.”
He mocked that sly smile on her lips with a cocked brow.

“Angela?”

“No.”
He regurgitated the word, drained his can and crushed it flat. “We’re no longer
an item.” As her mouth opened to lambast him, he said, “That’s that, Aunt
Belle. I’m going to bed.” Chance felt her despondent vibe as he crossed the
kitchen and paused in the doorway. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

“I
know you love her.”

“I
know I do, too. Angela even knows that.” He strolled back to pat her hand.
“Sometimes it takes more than love to forge a lasting relationship. That glue
never did stick for us.” He traipsed heavily out of the kitchen. “Goodnight,
Aunt Belle.”

“I’m
not giving up on you two,” she called to his back.

“That’s
the spirit. Keep hope alive.”

Chapter Nineteen

Angela
sprawled across the bed all twisted up in the sheets and comforter after a
horrendous night’s sleep had her tossing and turning. A sharp twinge reminded
her of the tubing recently removed from her chest as she fitfully readjusted
her body to a more comfortable position. The hand applying pressure to the sore
spot fended off the pain of stretching to check the clock on the bedside table.
It was just a little after eight am the Friday after Thanksgiving Day which
meant she had six hours to pamper and soothe her battered body to be ready for
the school’s performance at the mall. Her obligation to the excursion, the
least of which was to perform with a small ensemble of teachers, also included
chaperoning the children during the outing. Today would be big a day in terms
of her surviving the drain on her energies that already bottomed out and she
hadn’t left the bed.

The
TV clicked on as she rolled over the remote lost under the bedcovers while
forcing herself to a sitting position. No sound encouraged her to look towards
the television in time to monitor Chance’s walk from the front of Mrs.
Thatcher’s house to hers. Her heart trembled in anticipation of his visit. He
bent, retrieved her morning paper, advanced up her walk and placed it at the
front door. Her heart tumbled when he did an about-face without creating any
disturbance other than cranking up and driving off. Angela fell back hiding her
disappointment by throwing her arms across her face. The pleasure derived at
the thought of him unable to stand being away from her for any period of time
was a hypocritical slap to her face. She dissolved into a puddle of self-pity.

On
cue, her phone rang. She let the answer machine get it.

“Mrs.
Munso. This is the clinic calling to check on your recovery in light of the
fact you signed yourself out against doctor’s recommendations. Please give us a
call if you encounter any complications.”

Sobbing
renewed her faith in self and cleansed the way to reconnecting with the drive
that propelled her to this point in her life. She needed no one to justify her
worth. Certainly, she knew this. After all, having no one’s feelings to
consider but her own worked well for her in the past. New Orleans sidetracked
her by tugging at her heartstrings. The richness of the culture enamored
her…magnetized her to its reviving qualities. She spent all of her intrinsic
resources to restoring hope and positively impacting as many young people as
crossed her path.

Angela
realized New Orleans, now, was the surging pulse in her blood. Therefore, her
choice to leave at the termination of her contract sucked all the life out of
her. It was like cutting off her nose to spite her face—a drastic and awfully
painful operation. In spite of that, she strengthened her resolve knowing the
move presented new opportunities to thrive.

The
fighter in her hedged closer to the surface rumbling right under the skin.
There wasn’t a scuffle won without grit and determination as her weapons. This
decision, made easier by last night’s exchange with Chance, exemplified the
lengths she would go to disavow her love for him. She’d be off to a new start
in two weeks time with Chance diminishing to a treasured memory.

For
now, he gained entrance to his home frowning at the clothes littering the
living area. Kelsy lay facedown on the sofa, a naked arm and leg dangling over
the edge prompting her father to reposition the throw cover. She snored
prettily drawing a smile from him because he knew she’d never believe it if he
told her. Kicking her things to make an aisle, he continued to the kitchen to
start the coffee for this morning’s breakfast he brought in. His once spotless
kitchen showed signs of mistreatment with dishes strewn from the counter to the
sink. Tina evidently forgot she left her maid in Montana and conveniently
contracted amnesia when it came to loading the dishwasher.

Chance
patiently cleaned the area and ran across Angela’s jelly exposed to the
elements. He did what he thought best with the open jar and tossed it in the
trash. That was a no brainer. Tossing away their future signified the decision
for what it was—absolutely idiotic. Angela’s image materialized, conjured up by
recall of their last time together right there in his kitchen. If he daydreamed
long enough he’d be able to see her curled in his chair. His eyes shifted back
to the present and to that same chair currently occupied by Tina, whose look of
condescension cast him even farther back in their realm of time.

He
introduced a conversation to thwart her attack. “Coffee’s ready. There’s a full
Big Easy breakfast for each of you.” Chance culminated his KP duties, poured a
cup of chicory coffee and took a seat at the table. He allowed her to study him
at her leisure. With Kelsy knocked out on the sofa a few feet away, he’d be
damned if he flushed their last day together down the toilet.

Tina
strolled towards him lacking the decency to cover-up in the presence of the
estranged ex-spouse. “No beignets?” she complained.

“Afraid
not.” He closed that subject to initiate another. “I’m taking Kelsy with me—”

“No,
you’re not. Did you conveniently forget? We’re leaving today,” she announced.

“Tina,
I won’t let you spoil what little time we have left.” His eyes fell to his cup
in hopes of curbing his tongue.

She
would hear none of what he said and was adamant in her disagreement. “Our plane
leaves at eight forty-five tonight. And that’s that.”

He
could spend his time arguing the point, thereby, upsetting Kelsy with their
normal routine. Or he could make good use of what time he had left with his
daughter. He sprang to his feet. “Kel?” He shook her by the foot. “Wake up,
Baby.”

“I
am awake, Dad. Listening to every word.”

“Then,
you heard your mother.” He stood next to the couch, pulled the cover from her
head and tweaked her cheek. “Get dressed. We have places to go before you
leave.” He glanced at Tina. “Just the two of us.”

“I’m
not staying in this cubby hole all day by myself while you and Kelsy have fun
on the town.”

“Tina,
you’re in walking distance of the French Quarters and the downtown CBD. The
carriages are running. So are the trolleys. There’s no limit to the number of
ways you can spend your time.”

“I’m
spending my time with you and our daughter whether you like it or not.”

He
grinned. “Suit yourself.” Looking at the clock on the microwave, he said,
“Hustle, ladies. We have a schedule to keep.” As an afterthought, “Dress
comfortably.”

Chance’s
pacing irritated rather than spurred them to dress faster. But, now he tooled
the Mustang Cobra onto the church lot, stealing glances at his passengers as he
continued on to the rear of the cathedral. He waited for the bombardment of
questions, noticing the lines grooved at the corners of Tina’s mouth. Her
mildly disguised look screamed for an explanation. Chance downshifted, pulled
into a parking spot in front of the mission center and cut the motor.
Three.
Two. One.

“Church?
We’re starting our morning at church?” she asked.

“Come
on, Tina. It’ll do you good.” He unfolded his frame from the driver’s seat to
stand beside the car, holding the seat forward for Kelsy to exit. Her
hesitation urged him to put her at ease. “Keep an open mind, Kel. That’s all I
ask.”

Kelsy
kept her mother in her sights and Chance knew she would imitate the behavior
exhibited by her. Wanting to nip that in the bud, he issued, “Tina, if you
prefer, you can wait in the sanctuary or I’ll call you a taxi.”

“You
should have told me your intentions, Brock.” Sour notes sounded in her tone.

“But,
you insisted.” His face broke into a grin. Tina stepped from the car
magnificently dressed in a winter white outfit proper for the ski lodge or
passing the time in some genteel fashion.