Ben swallowed his pizza, a lump in his throat making it difficult. If only Kent had known the Lord, he would have sought comfort in prayer rather than in drugs. Ben understood why Kent had turned to alcohol and drug use. The pain of losing a father was a pain too heavy to bear without help. Kent had found his “help” in the most hurtful way available. And it couldn’t be changed now. Ben just had to pray that somehow God would use Kent’s disability for someone’s good.
He leaned forward and tapped Kent’s bony knee. “Hey, want to go down to the workout room?”
Kent’s eyes lit up. “Go … pump iron.”
Ben nodded. “Yep. Let me throw this stuff away.” He reached for the empty pizza box and crumpled napkins.
“No!” The word burst out, anger twisting Kent’s face. “My apartment. I … clean up.”
Ben raised his hands in surrender, a smart-alecky grin on his face. “Yes, sir! You clean up, sir!” He did his best private-to-sergeant imitation.
The anger faded as quickly as it had flared. Kent laughed. Calm again, he said, “You cook … I clean up.”
Ben remained seated on the edge of the sofa as Kent gathered the napkins and stacked them in the pizza box. He battled to close the lid, and Ben grabbed his own knees to keep from helping. Ben knew Kent needed to exercise every bit of independence. No matter how hard it was to watch his cousin struggle, he wouldn’t interfere.
Finally, after a few frustrated grunts, Kent managed to get the lid closed, trapping the napkins inside. With a triumphant grin, he placed the box in his lap then wheeled his chair to the kitchenette and dropped the box into the waste can.
Spinning around, he crowed, “Ready … to pump … iron!”
“Got your key?”
Kent patted his jeans pocket.
“Then let’s go.” Ben opened the apartment door and waited until Kent rolled through before giving it a slam. He poked Kent on the shoulder. “Wanna race?”
Kent’s determined scowl reminded Ben of when they were twelve and Ben had issued a challenge. Ben knew Kent remembered little of those days—the overdose had stolen the majority of his memory—but Ben remembered. He knew Kent would lean forward, stick the tip of his tongue out between his lips, and squint at the finish line—in this case, the elevator doors.
“Okay,” Ben said, getting into position with a hand on his knee. “Ready, get set … and go!”
Ben could have won easily, but he deliberately stayed one pace behind the wheelchair. Kent’s raucous hoot of satisfaction was all the reward he needed.
“Awwww!” Ben feigned disgust, slapping his thigh. “You got me again.”
Kent pointed at him with both index fingers, his face creased in a huge smile. “I got you…. I got you….”
Ben thumped his cousin’s shoulder. “Way to go, man.” He poked the elevator down button then crossed his arms, pretending to mope. “Well, I’ll get you in the workout room. You won’t lift more weight than me.”
With sparkling eyes, Kent shook his head and raised his fists as if showcasing his muscles. “I will … beat you.”
The elevator doors slid open. Ben gave Kent’s wheelchair a push. “We’ll just see about that.” As they rode toward the lobby, suddenly Ben wondered about Angela. Would she still be down there? He hoped not. If she looked at Kent the way she looked at the clients of New Beginnings, Ben was fearful of how he would react.
four
“Amen.”
Angela added her voice to the others who echoed the close of the final prayer. The naturalness of the act gave her a feeling of warmth and acceptance she wanted to savor. Lifting her face to meet Ben’s gaze, she smiled.
“I really enjoyed the service, Ben. You were right—this is a great church.”
Ben’s shoulders lifted in a shrug, shifting his tie. He smoothed it back into place as he said, “The Holy Spirit is here. You can sense it.”
“Yes, you can.” Angela allowed her gaze to sweep around the room, observing the small groups of chatting congregants. Despite the simplicity of the block building and the essence of grease that lingered in the air, no one seemed in a rush to leave. All appeared at home and comfortable in the makeshift sanctuary.
And although several people had welcomed her this morning with smiles and handshakes, no one had startled at her name. No one pointed or whispered, as she had feared. She couldn’t deny being relieved about that. Even though Carrie had prompted her to join a church immediately upon her return from rehab, she had hesitated out of worry. If people recognized her, they might steer clear of her based on her past mistakes. The humiliation of her arrest still hung like a chain around her neck. Being reminded of it by people’s reactions added another link to the chain.
But no one had left her feeling uncomfortable this morning. She felt at ease and eager to be a part of the church family. Turning a slow circle, she sought faces from Sunday school, trying to recall names. She hoped the opportunity for friendship existed among the singles her age. Her drug-abuse counselor had encouraged her to form new friendships with people who were not a part of the “partying” scene. She would be more likely to remain clean if she stayed away from users. Of course she had Carrie, but she didn’t want to rely on Carrie too much. As a newlywed, Carrie needed her time with Rocky. And Angela needed to broaden her horizons.
“Are you ready to go?” Ben looked down at her, a soft smile in his eyes.
She liked his Sunday face—contented, open. Sometimes at work she got the feeling he didn’t quite trust her. Her heart raced as she realized how much less he would trust her if he knew about her past. Even though she knew total honesty was important in any relationship, she still hoped he’d never find out. The open friendliness would surely whisk away, and she wasn’t sure how she would handle that.
They slipped from between the rows of folding chairs that served in place of wooden pews and ambled toward the foyer area, which would have been where the cash register sat when the building served as a restaurant. “I really liked the focus verse from this morning,” Angela commented then frowned, pressing her memory. “What was the reference?” She stopped and consulted the printed program an usher had offered when she’d come in.
“Ephesians 1:4,” Ben said. A grin twitched his cheek as he watched her open her Bible and search for Ephesians. “Here.”
He took the Bible, opened it to the right place, and then handed it back.
“Thanks.” Angela grimaced. “I guess I need to get some of those little tab things with the names of the books to guide me.”
“No, don’t do that.” Ben shook his head. “You’ll always use the tabs then and never learn to find them for yourself. Try memorizing the order of the books instead.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll try that.” Lowering her gaze to the open Bible, she slid her finger to verse four and read aloud. “‘For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight.’” With a sigh, she closed the Bible and hugged it to her chest. “I never really thought about His creating us to be holy before Him.”
Ben smiled. “Well, we are created in His image, after all. Sin messes that up though. That’s why God sent His Son, Jesus, to die for our sins. It is through His sacrifice that we can be cleansed from all unrighteousness. He makes us holy once again.”
Angela blinked at him, awed by his knowledge. “Wow—you’ve been a Christian a long time, haven’t you?”
Ben smiled. “A few years.”
“Oh, I hope I’m as smart as you someday!”
He released a light laugh. “Well, Angela, one thing you’ll find out.” He put his hand on her back to guide her toward the door. “No matter where you are in your Christian journey, there’s still a lot to learn.”
Angela nodded. Carrie had said pretty much the same thing. That’s why it was important to attend church, for the opportunity to continually grow. They left the air-conditioned building and walked across the balmy parking lot to Ben’s truck. “I have a lot to learn in many ar
eas, I’m afraid,” she said.
He opened the door for her. “What areas?”
Angela climbed in then waited for him to settle behind the steering wheel before answering his question. “Well, for instance, you … I was so surprised to see you at Elmwood Towers yesterday after work. I didn’t know you had a cousin who lived there.”
Ben shot her a sharp look. “How did you know I was visiting my cousin?”
Angela waved good-bye to a couple of people as the truck pulled out of the parking lot. She looked back at Ben. “My aunt—Eileen Cassidy, remember? She told me your cousin lives there.”
Ben nodded, his lips set in a grim line. Then he took a deep breath, and his expression cleared. “I really like your aunt. She’s a spunky lady with a big heart. On which side of the family is she related?”
Rebuffed, Angela explained her family tree, but beneath her words her thoughts raced. Why did Ben change the subject when I asked about his cousin? Could it be he’s shamed by what his cousin did? Her heart twisted painfully in her chest. If he could be ashamed of his very own cousin, he would certainly feel even more animosity toward a stranger. She carefully guarded her words as Ben drove the familiar streets toward her family’s estate.
It was best that Ben never found out that she had been arrested for drug use.
Ben battled guilt as he listened to Angela, her voice halting at times, share about her relationship with Eileen Cassidy. He hadn’t switched gears out of anger, but he suspected by her quiet demeanor she felt as though he were angry. Protectiveness toward Kent welled up again.
Kent had suffered so much rejection since the drug overdose. His own mother and sister had little to do with him, furious at him for wasting his life. His friends had all abandoned him. What good was he to them, trapped in a wheelchair, unable to join them in their parties? Even strangers on the street shied away from him. Ben knew how much those rejections hurt Kent, and he wouldn’t willingly put Kent in the line of fire for more pain.
Angela’s discomfort around the clients at New Beginnings made it clear how she’d react to Kent—and Kent wasn’t stupid. He recognized when people avoided him. Despite his other handicaps, he was still fully capable of feeling. The less Angela knew about Kent, the better. Ben would not give her the opportunity to hurt his cousin.
He stopped the truck along the curb and shifted into park. He looked at Angela, and the yearning he’d seen in her eyes last Friday, right before he invited her to church, was there again. It took him back, and he found himself opening his mouth and blurting out a second invitation.
“Did you catch the announcement about the potluck dinner before the evening service? If you’d like, I can swing by and pick you up.”
Angela’s gaze shot to her lap. She clenched her fingers on her Bible. “Potluck … That means everybody brings food, right?”
Ben chuckled. “Well, yeah. Then we all share it.”
She took a deep breath, her gaze still down. “I’d probably better not, then.”
What was bothering her now? Determined to make up for his earlier evasiveness, he assumed a teasing tone. “Why? Don’t you eat?”
She turned her face slightly to look at him. Worry and uncertainty showed in her eyes. “I—I can’t bring anything.”
He could make no sense of that comment. “Why not?”
A huge breath huffed out, and she flipped her hands outward. “I can’t cook!”
Ben burst out laughing. “You’re kidding, right?”
She glared at him.
His laughter died. “You really can’t cook? But—you’re what—twenty-one, twenty-two?”
“Twenty-three,” she said grimly. “And I know how pathetic it is, but …” She paused, biting down on her lower lip for a moment. Finally she sighed and admitted, “Ben, I never had to do much of anything in the way of chores while growing up. We’ve always had servants. Mother said menial chores were beneath us, and Dad insisted that’s what he paid the maid and cook to do. So, I just haven’t learned.”
Ben stared in amazement. Her comments sure explained a lot about her standoffish behavior at work. But never having chores was beyond the scope of his understanding. He and his sister had been responsible for household duties from an early age. Especially after Dad died, Mom had depended on them to help out. And now that he was grown, he appreciated it. He lived alone, but he could take care of himself, cleaning house, doing laundry, cooking—and not just dumping soup from a can—real cooking.
“Well …” He scratched his head. “I tell you what. I’ll bring the covered dish and you just … come.”
Her jaw dropped. “You can cook?”
He managed to swallow his laughter. “Yeah. I make a mean enchilada casserole with chilies and onions and lots of gooey cheese. Sound good?” He was amazed how important it had become to put her at ease.
Her lips quivered into a weak smile. “It does sound good, but …” She tipped her head, her curls spilling across her shoulder and catching the afternoon sun. “Are you sure it’s okay to go and not bring anything?”
He grabbed the steering wheel with both hands before one sneaked out and captured one of those spiraling curls. “Perfectly okay. So … do you want to go?”
A full smile lit her face. “Yes, I do. Thank you.”
Ben nodded. “Okay then. I’ll be back a little before six. See you then.”
She thanked him again and scooted out of the truck. He watched her bounce up the walk, swinging her purse. She paused on the porch, turned around, waved, and then disappeared inside.
Ben sat at the curb for a few minutes, drinking in the ostentation of the brick and mortar two-story house. He’d been in too much of a rush this morning to really look at it, but at close examination, it was incredible. Pillars extended from the bricked porch floor to the second-story roof. At least three chimneys stretched toward the sky. The garage behind it could easily hold four vehicles. He craned his neck, his eyes widening. Was that a pool house?
He shook his head, curiosity overflowing. A huge house, servants, the silver rocket … Why was someone who obviously had no need to work filling a minimum-wage position at New Beginnings? There was more to Angela Fisher than met the eye. Suddenly Ben was determined to get to the bottom of her secrets. Maybe this evening would help shed a little light on things….
five
Angela glanced up from the dishwashing station when she heard the tinkle of the bell announce a visitor. She looked toward the door, and an involuntary gasp accompanied the tensing of her body. The visitor was hers—Officer Brighton. He held a brown paper bag at his side. Angela’s heart flip-flopped in her chest.
“Angela? Are the cups done?”
Angela, flustered, turned back to Steve. The man pointed to the cups stacked in the dishwashing tray. She gave a quick glance at the cups lined up in the plastic tray and pushed her lips into a smile.
“You did a great job, Steve. You filled all the slots. Now can you check to be sure all of the cups are upside down? Remember, we don’t want them to fill up with water.”
Steve beamed. “I will check.”
“Thanks.” She gave his back a pat, her gaze on the officer who remained just inside the door, scanning the room. A movement to her left captured her attention—Ben leaving his desk to welcome the visitor. Angela began inching away from the dishwashing area. “Steve, you check those cups; then you can start on the silverware, okay?”
“Okay, Angela!”
Angela paused long enough to make sure Steve would follow her directions, and then she darted across the room and cut in front of Ben, bringing him to halt. She offered what she hoped was a natural smile. “It’s okay, Ben; it’s for me. I’ll get it.”
Ben scowled briefly, glancing at the officer, but he nodded and returned to his desk.
Angela hurried to Officer Brighton. Weaving her fingers together, she pressed her hands against her jumping stomach. “Hello. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
The man glanced at h
is wristwatch, his face impassive. “The records we have indicate you are entitled to a midafternoon break. Is this not the case?”
“Yes, I do have a midafternoon break, so I could be free for a few minutes.” Angela shot a nervous look over her shoulder. Sure enough, Ben was watching.
“Very well, then.” He lifted the paper bag. “Take this, and—”
Angela slipped her hand through the officer’s elbow to interrupt him. “Come with me.” She guided him to the break area where tall partitions shielded them from view.
He frowned and pulled loose the moment they rounded the corner. “Miss Fisher, I—”
“I know why you’re here.” Angela blinked rapidly as nervousness churned her middle. She lowered her voice to whisper. “It’s the random drug test, right?”
He nodded. Holding out the bag again, he boomed, “If you will just—”
Angela whammed her finger against her lips. “Shhh!” She darted to the partition and peeked out. Everyone appeared busy except Ben, who peered in the direction of the partitions with a puzzled frown on his face. She zipped back to the officer.
“Officer Brighton, the only person who knows I’m here on community service is the owner. I—I don’t want the others to know. Especially—” She stopped herself before she blurted out Ben’s name. Why is it so important for him not to know? Her heart pattered. She knew why. His friendship had become very important to her in the short amount of time she’d known him. She didn’t want him to be disappointed in her.
She clasped her hands beneath her chin and gave her best pleading look. “Please, can’t we do this later? I promise I won’t leave work. You can pick me up and take me wherever you need to get the test, but I just can’t do this here.”
“Miss Fisher, the purpose of a random test is—”
“I know, I know, to catch me off guard, which you’ve certainly done.” A nervous giggle burst out, which she muffled by clapping her hand over her mouth. When she felt she had control, she leaned toward the officer and lowered her voice to a rasping, fervent whisper. “But I won’t be any less off guard at five thirty. Oh, please, don’t make me do this here!”
Promising Angela Page 3
