Promising Angela (8 page)

Her reaction to him replayed in her mind, and remorse struck. She shouldn’t have barked at him like she had. Even if she were angry, she should have kept a rein on her tongue. She knew she hadn’t spoken in a way pleasing to God.

Releasing a deep sigh, she contemplated digging her cell phone from her purse and calling him to apologize. Experiences from her past stung her memory. Some of what Ben intimated—her penchant for flirting—was accurate. She’d done so many foolish things. The inability to change them now brought a rush of frustration. Would she pay forever for the mistakes of her past? Although the desire to apologize was strong, the desire to protect herself from further condemnation won out. She didn’t reach for her phone.

But she did add Ben’s name to her list. At the bottom.

Ben leaned back in his chair and bit down on the inside of his cheeks to keep from laughing. Angela and three clients sorted a stack of clean recyclables, and the confusion of the activity was enough to make a grown man cry. Yet there she was, with her shining head of hair all tousled, directing the chaos as well as a traffic cop directed the noon rush.

“Now, Pete, plastic goes in the middle bin. See? This says plastic. Ketchup bottles are plastic. Yes, I know there’s a picture of a tomato on the front just like the one on that can, but see? We have to look at what’s under the picture. This is tin.” She clinked her fingernail against the can. “And this is plastic.” Thunking a finger against the bottle, she demonstrated the differences in the materials. “Do you understand? Now hold up, Jannie, we’re not going to start a band here!”

Ben could barely contain his laughter as each of the clients chose an item or two from the bins to
clink
and
thud
. Angela’s sweet laughter rang over the top of the noise. Finally she managed to convince everyone to put the “instruments” away and return to sorting. Her smile covered any hint of reprimand, and the clients each giggled, delivering friendly pats on Angela’s back to show their willingness to cooperate.

Ben shook his head. How far she’d come … Based on his observations of her first couple of weeks, he would never have imagined her ever settling in. Yet she had, and he realized it was largely due to her commitment to emulate Jesus. He’d observed her attentiveness in church and Sunday school, and her focus during her Bible reading on her break was nearly impenetrable.

Although they hadn’t spoken to one another except in passing since his visit to Elmwood Towers almost a week ago, he had continued to pray for her daily. Lifting her in prayer helped him feel connected to her even if she had pulled away.

The bell at the front door tinkled, announcing someone’s entrance. Ben shifted his gaze to the door and spotted the center’s owner, Philip Wilder, striding through. Philip paused beside the sorting table and visited with Angela for a moment. The beaming smile she aimed at him made Ben’s heart lurch. He’d missed having that smile turned in his direction.

Philip laughed at something, gave Angela’s arm a quick squeeze, and then walked to Ben’s desk. Leaning against the desk’s edge, he used his head to gesture toward the sorting table. “They’re having fun over there, aren’t they?”

Ben watched for another few seconds—long enough to see Pete try to put an empty butter tub on Angela’s head for a hat and Angela return the favor—before answering Philip. “Oh, yeah, but I think in the midst of their fun, they’re figuring out what needs to be done.”

Philip nodded, chuckling, his gaze on the group. “Yes. I’m glad now I followed Carrie’s recommendation. Angela’s placement is working out better than I had anticipated.”

Ben sent Philip a sharp look. “Placement? What do you mean by that?”

Philip gave a start. He jerked his gaze in Ben’s direction, and he pulled his lips into a grimace. “It doesn’t matter.” He turned away, seeming to concentrate on the group at the recycling table.

Curiosity got the best of Ben. He stood and rounded the desk to stand next to Philip. “No, really. What did you mean by placement? Our clients go into different placements, not our workers. Are you starting something new?”

Philip blew out a breath. “Ben, really, it’s not important.”

“It is to me.” Ben folded his arms across his chest and looked into Philip’s face, even though the other man kept his gaze averted. “If we’re starting some sort of new program, training people to work with the handicapped population, I’d like to know that. It will make a difference in how I evaluate their performances.”

Finally Philip faced Ben. “You won’t need to change how you evaluate performances. We aren’t turning into a training center for anyone other than the people with disabilities. I said ‘placement’ for Angela because she technically isn’t a hired employee.”

Ben’s eyebrows rose. “Isn’t hired? You mean, she’s unpaid—a volunteer?” His heart gave a lurch. If she were volunteering here, he’d been entirely too hard on her. He owed her a thank-you for her service, not criticism.

But Philip shook his head. “Not a volunteer. She’s here as … community service.”

Ben’s jaw dropped. Community service? A judge would make that determination, which meant Angela had broken some kind of law. He glanced quickly at Angela. She handed a cereal box to Jannie then nodded in approval when the other woman dropped it in the appropriate bin. She’d broken the law? He felt his stomach clench.

“What did she do?”

“That, my friend, is confidential.” Philip put his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Look, Ben, I wasn’t even supposed to let you know her employment here is temporary and court-dictated. I’d appreciate it if you would keep it to yourself. It could alter her relationships with the other employees as well as the clients.”

“But is it safe to have her here?” Ben hated himself for asking the question, yet he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

Philip released a low chuckle. “If it weren’t, she wouldn’t be here.” He pushed off from the desk. “Frankly, I think it’s done Angela a world of good to be part of the staff at New Beginnings. It’s given her a ‘new beginning’ of sorts, too. As I said earlier, it’s worked out better than I’d hoped. I call it a God-thing.”

Ben wasn’t so sure about that, but he wouldn’t argue with his boss. He nodded, but the thought tormented him the rest of the afternoon. Angela had broken the law and been given a sentence of community service.
What secret is she hiding?

“Pizza again!” Ben announced as he entered Kent’s apartment for their standard Friday night get-together.

Kent’s eyes lit up. He sniffed the air like a bloodhound. “Pep–peron–i and pep–pers?”

Ben laughed. “You know your pizza. Yep. Added peppers this time.” He carried the box to the living room and dropped it on the low table beside the couch. “Want to eat in front of the TV?”

Kent nodded and pushed the chair to the end of the table. With a low grunt, he managed to lean forward far enough to get hold of the remote control. Aiming the black box at the television, he pushed buttons until he located a baseball game. He crowed with excitement. “Home run!”

Ben headed to the kitchen to retrieve paper towels and get a grip on his emotions. Sorrow pressed his chest at Kent’s elation at watching the sport he’d once loved to play. Kent had been the champion home-run hitter on their junior high baseball team. His mother had taken down the trophy from the shelf in the family room, but Ben knew it was hidden somewhere in the house. He should ask for it, bring it over, and put it on top of the television. Kent might enjoy having it.

He handed a wad of paper towels to his cousin then sank down on the sofa. Although Kent was already munching, he lowered his head and offered a brief prayer of thanks before picking up a piece of pizza. He got as caught up in the game as Kent, cheering for the pitcher and booing when the ump made a poor call. At one point, the camera zoomed in on the scoreboard where, for a few seconds, the score disappeared and was replaced with the image of a pair of spectators—two women wearing baseball caps and waving banners.

Ben whistled and poked Kent with his elbow. “Hey, some pretty girls, huh? What do you think, Kent?”

Kent shook his head, scowling. “An–ge–la is … pretty.” He grinned. “She … is my … girlfriend. She visits … me.”

Ben fought the wave of worry that welled up. Keeping an intentionally light tone, he said, “Oh, yeah? When does she visit you?”

“Work. Home from … work.” Kent chomped down on another bite of pizza. “I see her … in lobby.”

The worry from earlier in the day magnified with this new information. Apparently she hadn’t heeded his warning about Kent’s misinterpretation of her intentions. Remembering how she’d spouted her intent to be friends with Kent, he felt his ire grow.
Stubborn woman! Can’t she listen to reason?
And now that he knew she’d been found guilty of a crime that warranted community service as a punishment, he was even more concerned about Kent spending time with her.

Since Angela hadn’t made Kent understand a relationship beyond friendship wasn’t possible, he was left with the difficult task of crushing his cousin. He took a deep breath, prayed for the right words, and tapped Kent’s arm.

“Hey, Kent?”

Kent pulled his gaze away from the television and offered a little grunt at the interruption of the game.

“I have to tell you something … about Angela.”

“An–ge–la?” The expectant look in his cousin’s eyes took Ben back fifteen years to seventh grade and the first all-school party. Kent had had a crush on Macie Warren, and he’d sent Ben over to see if she’d go with him to the party. Macie said no, and Ben had been faced with telling Kent the bad news. He could still see the eager hope in Kent’s eyes as he’d walked back from the giggling group of girls.

He swallowed. It was just as hard today as it had been back then. “You see, Kent, Angela is a real nice girl, but …” He took in another fortifying breath. “She really isn’t your girlfriend, is she?”

Kent began rocking in his wheelchair, his face tightening into a scowl.

Ben grabbed his arm to make him sit still.

Kent jerked loose, his scowl deepening. “An–ge–la is … my … girlfriend,” he spat the words.

Ben shook his head. “Your friend, Kent. Your friend, but not your girlfriend.”

Swinging his hand, Kent whacked the pizza box from the table. The remaining two pieces flew to the floor, one upside down. “You go!”

The anger tore at Ben’s heart. “Listen, Kent, I’m not trying to upset you, but—”

“Go! Go! Go!” Kent repeated the word at top volume, his face red, until his voice sounded hoarse.

Someone knocked on the door, and it swung open before Ben could get up. Kent’s resident caretaker rushed into the room. She seemed surprised to see Ben sitting on the couch. “What’s going on?”

“Go!” Kent yelled again, pointing a finger at Ben.

The caretaker crouched beside Kent’s wheelchair. “Kent, I’ll take Ben outside. You calm down, okay? When he’s outside, will you be all right?”

Kent nodded his head, his hair flopping. “Ben … go!”

The woman stood and grabbed Ben’s arm to escort him to the hallway. After closing the door, she said, “What happened in there? I haven’t seen Kent that upset in ages!”

Ben hung his head. “I told him something he didn’t want to hear.” His heart ached. His cousin’s fury spoke so clearly of the pain Ben had caused.

“Was it necessary to tell him?”

Ben nodded. “Yeah. I really believe it was.”

“Well, from past experience, I know it won’t take him long to calm down if we give him some space.” She sighed, looking toward the closed door. “I’ll stay here and listen. If it sounds as if he’s tearing the place apart, I’ll go right in. Otherwise, I’ll give him ten minutes or so then help clean up the mess he made.”

“Okay. Thanks for your help.” Ben shoved his hands into his pants pockets.

“Do you mind telling me what you said to get him so upset? I might be able to smooth the waters for you.”

“This woman who’s staying in Tower Two has given him the idea that she’s his girlfriend, and—”

“You mean Angela?”

Ben frowned. “You know her?” Just how often had Angela come around?

The caretaker nodded. “Yes. She’s great with Kent. She gets him talking, and they’ve taken long walks all over the grounds in the evenings. I’ve never seen her be anything but appropriate with him though.”