Like Slow Sweet Molasses (45 page)

“You
like that?” he asked proudly, opening his door to exit.

“Very
much,” she lamented.

Angela
twisted in her seat to monitor his actions as he made the obligatory run in and
out of his aunt’s home. Chance’s rhythmic gait had him bypass the car as he
charged up the walk to her former home, knocked on the door and vanished into
the interior alive with children’s laughter that filtered over to them. An
incredulous openmouthed look dominated her face as she linked eyes with her
parents.

“What
is he doing?” she asked alarmed to which they simply stared. Throwing the seat
forward, she stood with one foot in and the other out of the car as she tried
to gauge his whereabouts. He appeared in the doorway, as if on cue, poked his
head out and flagged for her to come over. “You’ve lost your ever-loving mind,”
she accused, staying exactly where she was.

She
leaned into the interior with an excuse on her lips only to feel the sensation
of falling as she lost her balance. However, Angela never hit the ground.
Instead, she perched in Chance’s arms and endured, but, not quietly, as he
bodily carried her towards the house. Her obvious upset transmitted in the
stiff pose of her body draped across his arms. This experience brought tears to
her eyes for she was without recourse except for making a scene and humiliating
herself even further.

“Brock,
don’t you make another step.” Her order was urgent and succinct.

He
stopped dead in his tracks, alerted by the calling of his given name, and
offered up an explanation. “Your new tenant is a nice guy and agreed to let you
have a look inside.”

“Uh-hmmm,”
Lee grunted at their backs, his interruption a form of instigation.

“Put
me down.”

The
words barely vibrated the airwaves causing him to second guess his approach.
The last thing he wanted to do was alienate her. “I promise you it’s okay.”

“You
can’t just barge in on people because you happen to be their landlord,” she
educated him while squirming for her release.

Chance
held tight locking her against his solid chest in response to her antics.
“Would you feel better if he invited you in himself?”

“Why
would he do that?”

“Because
I told him it would mean a lot to you to see inside for old time sakes.”

Angela
knew Chance could wrangle that because he’d already been inside with the
strangers. One thing, though. She did want to see inside to put feelings to
rest in that she left in such a hurry when she departed the other day. It would
be nice to have a close-up look at the fabulous Christmas tree in the picture
window. Everything from this vantage point proved very tastefully done. There
was no way she could have presented a better display.

“Okay.
Call him out and I’ll talk for myself,” she bargained.

Connie’s
snicker broadcast her amusement.

“You
don’t think I should, Mama?”

“That’s
your decision, Cookie,” she strangled.

Chance
stood her on her own two feet and she watched him lope back into the house.
Again, he enticed her forward with a beckoning wave. This time she proceeded up
the walk extremely self-conscious about her shoeless state, flanked by her
parents on either side. The laughter heard a while ago minimized in volume
shrouding the atmosphere in a somber mood. Eventually, not one sound sneaked
out as they stood poised in the doorway a few feet from Chance.

“Welcome.
Come on in,” he invited playfully at her stunned expression.

“Where
is he?” Angela inquired.

Bashfully,
he answered, “You’re looking at him.” He grabbed her hand to prevent her
getaway and pulled her across the threshold.

Angela’s
eyes darted as far as the eye could see. Surely, they played tricks on her for
all the furniture in the place was hers. She inhaled and released a soothing
breath as her nostrils relished the scent of baked goods permeating the air.
Her look zoomed back to him. The answer to the question roiling around in her
head seemed a logical one. Yet, her brain refuted her conclusion.

“Why…would
you…do…this?” His fingers massaged hers, turning her knees to rubber.

“New
Orleans needs people like you, Angel, someone willing to lend a helping hand.”
He stepped closer. “Its children need you to champion their causes. To do that,
you need a place to live.”

“Oh.”
Not exactly what she wanted to hear. Angela tugged free, took a step back and
deigned to scan the faces in the room for reactions.

Chance
wasn’t through speaking. “But—I need you more.” Angela did that nose crinkle
thing he came to recognize indicated pure satisfaction.

He
waited. She stared.

In
an instant, her heart rejoiced with the idea he would go to so much trouble for
her. Her love for him took wings as she flew into his embrace. Angela’s clutch
of his waist spoke volumes. Her soft-spoken words elevated the contact. “I
guess it’s safe to say we’re now an “us”.

“Then,
that means you aren’t angry.” Chance heaved a blow. Her reply was a long, hard
kiss without regard to the audience gathered around them.

When
Angela and Chance’s eyes opened, and a little light filtered between their
bodies, Angela saw relief plain and clear on all the faces beaming their
approval. His family and hers—including Jason—were instrumental in putting more
than her place back together again. They also provided the expectation for new
and wonderful things to happen in the upcoming months.

Chanté
chanted. “One! Two! Three!”

“Surprise!”
They shouted in unison.

Angela’s
gratitude filled her to bursting as she ran around hugging each and every one
of her visitors. From that moment, laughter and good eats highlighted a
spectacular time well into the night. The loving couple beamed in contentment
as Chance leaned on the counter and enfolded Angela backwards into his chest.
He nestled his chin in her hair, activating his physical response to private
thoughts.

Angela
squirmed as she tossed a devious grin over her shoulder.

Now,
both scoped out the happenings across her living room as colored lights blinked
in syncopated fashion. The holiday spirit on exhibition was no match for the
thrill of their new love. Angela and Chance knew of no better gift than to see
the old year out in the company of loved ones. Molded together, neither could
anticipate a greater ecstasy than ringing in the New Year in each other’s arms
as Chance’s stealthy move slipped his trademark between his teeth.

The End

www.mickiesherwood.com

Author Bio:

Mickie
Sherwood is an author and novice photographer who takes nature pictures right
in her own backyard. She loves to engage in her favorite pastime which also
incites her creativity. Combine that aspect of her life with the enjoyment of
spending time with her family, and cruising vacations, and the development of
interesting characters who encounter intriguing circumstances is not very far
behind.

Red
Rose Publishing

Louisiana
Hot Sauce

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Hearts

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Slow Sweet Molasses