Engaged to the Single Mom

by Lee Tobin McClain

  “True.” And Troy had heard a few rumors, come to think of it, about how awful Jeremy had been to his wife.

  “Not only that,” Dion said, “but I was on duty for the car crash he died in. He was dead drunk. We didn’t publicize that, and it was never in the paper—what would have been the point, when he was the only one involved, except to make his kids feel bad? But I can tell you it’s so. I have the police reports to prove it.”

  “Wow.” Jeremy, who’d had such potential, been a powerhouse of a football player, had died drunk. “So, what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that if Jeremy was drinking, he turned into an idiot. One who didn’t have the ability to control himself.”

  “Even to the point of forcing himself on a woman?” The thought of Jeremy doing that to Angelica tapped in to a primal kind of outrage, but Troy fought to stay calm, to think. “Would he go that far, just because he wanted her?”

  Dion shook his head. “It’s about rage, not desire. They drill that into us at the police academy.”

  “But why would he be mad at Angelica? It just doesn’t compute.” Slowly he shook his head. “But it doesn’t compute that she’s lying, either.”

  “He was mad at women, period. Remember the so-called jokes he used to tell?”

  “Yeah.” Troy turned his cane over and over in his hand. “I guess I didn’t spend much time with him once we were done with school.”

  “There could be another reason he kept his distance.” The sound of televised gunshots and war whoops punctuated Dion’s words. “He could have felt guilty about what he’d done.”

  “Getting her pregnant?”

  “By force.”

  Troy pounded his fist on his knee.

  “You have some apologizing to do.”

  Troy heaved out a sigh. “I screwed everything up.”

  “You might have, but pray Father God forgive you, and He will. Might even help you to make things right.”

  Troy nodded, staring down at the floor.

  “And pray fast,” Dion said. “Because there’s a lot of estrogen coming our way.”

  Troy looked out the window Dion was looking out of. Marching in a line toward them, arms linked, were seven or eight women, his sister, Daisy, included. Angelica was at the center, and she looked shell-shocked. The rest of the ladies just looked angry and determined.

  Man, was he in for it! But at least Angelica was still here.

  Just before the women got within earshot, Angelica pulled away. The other women gathered around her and seemed to be urging her forward, but she shook her head vehemently. Then she broke away from the women and climbed into his truck.

  Daisy marched over and yanked open the truck door. She and Angelica exchanged words, and then Angelica slid over to the passenger seat.

  Daisy climbed into the driver’s seat and they drove away, leaving clouds of dust behind them.

  It was a mark of how upset Troy was that he didn’t even care that his reckless sister was driving his vehicle.

  He just wanted to be in there with Angelica.

  The women watched her go and then headed toward the bunkhouse, looking more serious and less angry now.

  “You better go out there and face them,” Dion advised.

  Xavier pushed in between them to look out the window. “Those ladies look mad.”

  “I know. But they’re not mad at you, buddy.” He spoke the reassuring words automatically, but his mind wasn’t on Xavier. Mostly he wanted to know where Angelica had gone.

  As the women reached the bunkhouse, he went out the front door and stood on the porch, arms crossed.

  “You stay in here with me, Little Bit,” he heard Dion say behind him.

  The women stood in a line in front of Troy. “Come down here,” said a dark-skinned woman he’d never seen before.

  Troy used his cane to make his way halfway down the front steps.

  “You’ve hurt that girl something terrible,” Lou Ann said.

  The dark-skinned woman added, “You accused her of stuff she didn’t do.”

  “She’d never have cheated on you.”

  “I...yeah.” Troy sat down on the edge of the porch and let his head sink into his hands. He was only now realizing the enormity of what he’d done. He’d made a terrible mistake, maybe lost the best part of his life—Xavier and Angelica. He looked up. “Where’d Angelica go?”

  The women consulted and murmured among themselves for a couple of minutes. “We think she went out Highway 93,” Lou Ann said finally.

  Dion came out behind him, clapped a hand on his shoulder. “If you want to follow her, I can drive you. But not if you’re going to make a fool of yourself again.”

  “No promises. I’ve already been an idiot. But I want to tell her how sorry I am.”

  That seemed to make the women happy; there were a couple of approving nods. “Take him out there, Dion,” Lou Ann said, “but keep an eye on him.”

  * * *

  Angelica knelt at the white roadside cross. Jeremy Filmore was painted on the horizontal board; In loving memory on the vertical one.

  It wasn’t his grave, but this was where he’d had his fatal accident. Somehow it had seemed to make more sense to come here, to this place she’d driven by dozens of times, getting mad and hating him with each pass. Never before had she stopped, gotten out of the car and studied it.

  Now she saw the plastic flowers, the kids’ football, the baby shoe and picture that decorated the cross, all looking surprisingly new, given that he’d died almost five years ago.

  It reminded her that Jeremy had had a life, kids, people who loved him enough to keep up a memorial.

  How could he be loved when he’d done something so awful?

  Her legs went weak and she sank to her knees as regret overcame her. If only she hadn’t been drunk that night. If only he hadn’t. If only a friend had walked home with them. If only Troy had come out with her.

  She’d never understand the why of it, no way. Why had God let it happen, something so awful?

  She sat back and hugged her knees to her chest, aching as she remembered the years of hating herself, all the loose, ugly clothes she’d taken to wearing, scared of provoking unwanted male attention. Afraid of being the tramp Jeremy had accused her of being.

  “I wasted the best years of my life hating you!” she cried out, pounding the ground, as if Jeremy lay beneath the memorial, as if he could still feel pain. She wanted to hurt him as he’d hurt her. Wanted to make him feel ashamed and awful. Wanted him to lose the love of his life, the way she’d lost Troy, twice now.

  “Hey,” Daisy said, getting out of the truck. “You okay?”

  Angelica kept her eyes closed, her whole body tense as a coiled spring. “I hate him,” she said. “I can’t make myself stop hating him. I can’t forgive him. I thought I could, but I can’t.”

  Daisy knelt and put an arm around her. “He was awful. A complete jerk. No one deserves to be treated the way you were treated.”

  “I hate him, hate him, hate him! I want him to suffer like I did. I want him to lose everything.”

  “Can’t blame you there. Stinks that he lived in the community like a good person, and meanwhile, you felt like you had to leave.”

  “Yeah.”

  A breeze kicked up, and a few leaves fell around them. Fall was coming. Maybe it was already here.

  Something was tugging at her. She thought about the years since the assault. “I hurt a lot in the past seven years.”

  “I know you must have.”

  “But I also had Xavier and got closer to God and...and grew up. Where Jeremy...he must have always had this in the back of his mind, what he did.”

  “Nah.” Daisy let out a snort. “Guys like that are jerks. He didn’t suffer.
”

  “I think he did suffer. I think that’s one reason he drank so much.”

  “Don’t try to humanize him. It’s okay to hate the guy who assaulted you!”

  Angelica hugged Daisy; half laughing through her tears. “You’re wonderful. But I don’t actually think that it is okay to hate.”

  Daisy rolled her eyes. “Don’t go all holy on me.”

  “I’m not very holy at all.” Angelica shifted from her knees to a more comfortable sitting position. “I’ve always felt guilty myself, because I...” Tears rose to her eyes again. “Because I dressed up pretty and flirted with all the guys at the bar. Including Jeremy.” She could barely squeeze the words out past the lump in her throat.

  “Oh, give me a break. Men flirt every day and no woman commits assault on them. It wasn’t fair, what happened to you.” Daisy squeezed her shoulder. “And you totally didn’t deserve it.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  “No! You’d probably make different decisions today, and you’d probably see more red flags with Jeremy.” Daisy’s voice went into social-worker mode. “Our brains keep developing and learn from experience. But no way—no way—did you deserve to be raped. Whether you flirt or dress up or get drunk, no means no.” She squeezed Angelica’s shoulder. “And you have to forgive yourself for being a silly twenty-one-year-old.”

  Daisy’s words washed over her like a balm.

  If she could forgive herself—the way God forgave her—then maybe she could forgive Jeremy. And get on with her life.

  But it wasn’t easy. “I’m still mad at myself. And even though I’m figuring it out, I still feel pretty hostile toward Jeremy.”

  Daisy was weaving a handful of clovers into a long chain. “I have a terrible temper,” she said. “Pastor Ricky always tells me that forgiveness is a decision, not a feeling.”

  Forgiveness is a decision, not a feeling. The words echoed in her mind with the ring of truth.

  Behind them, a truck lumbered by, adding a whiff of diesel to the air.

  Forgiveness is a decision, not a feeling.

  Angelica reached out a finger to the baby shoe that hung on the crossbar. “I know, I’ve known all along, that God worked it for good by giving me Xavier.” She drew in a breath. “Okay. I forgive you, Jeremy.”

  “And yourself?” Daisy prompted.

  “I forgive...I forgive myself, too.”

  No fireworks exploded, and no church bells rang. But a tiny flower of peace took seed in Angelica’s heart. For now, it was enough.

  * * *

  “Now, don’t go ballistic,” Dion warned Troy. “I think I see Angelica and Daisy up there.”

  “Why are they out of the car on the highway?”

  “They’re by a roadside memorial.” Dion paused, then added, “For Jeremy Filmore.”

  Troy’s hands balled into fists as Dion slowed the truck to a crawl and drove slowly past Daisy and Angelica. “If this doesn’t show she’s got feelings for him—”

  “I’m sure she does have feelings.” Dion pulled the truck off the road and turned off the ignition. “Wouldn’t you hate the guy that did what he did?”

  “That’s not what I—” And Troy stopped. He was doing it again, being a jerk. He had to stop jumping to conclusions about Angelica, about how she felt and what she was doing. It wasn’t fair to her or to him or to Xavier.

  He sat there and watched while Daisy and Angelica held hands and prayed together. Man, his sister was a good person.

  And so was Angelica. Talking with Dion had confirmed what his heart had already suspected: No way would she cheat on him.

  He was a fool.

  Troy dropped his head into his hands. If Angelica was praying, he should do that, too. She was amazing, always plunging forward and trying to do the right thing, to make a change, to live the way she was supposed to despite the horrible circumstances life always seemed to be throwing at her.

  And he, what did he do?

  He got his feelings hurt and suffered a minor disability and he fell apart.

  He’d tried to fix her life and Xavier’s on his own, giving her a job, letting them live on his place, getting medical help, even the marriage proposal. Looking back, it seemed as if he’d been waving his arms around uselessly, acting like some comic-book hero, trying to fix problems way too big for him.

  For the first time in his life, he saw—just dimly—that there might be another way. The way that gave Dion his uncanny peacefulness. The way that made Angelica able to kneel by that jerk Jeremy’s memorial and pray, after all she’d suffered.

  He wanted, needed, that ability to let God in, to trust Him. Most of all, to ask Him for help. To recognize that he himself wasn’t God and that God could do better than he could on his own poor human strength.

  I’m sorry, God. Help me do better.

  It was a simple prayer, but when he lifted his head, he felt some kind of peace. And when he looked over at Dion, he saw his friend smile. “What do you say I take Daisy home so you and Angelica can have some time?” he asked.

  “That’s a good idea.”

  Troy got out of the truck then and limped over to the two women. When he got there, Daisy stood and studied his face. Then, nodding as if satisfied, she walked back toward Dion’s truck.

  Leaving Troy to kneel beside Angelica.

  She finished her prayer, turned and looked at him. Eyes full of wisdom but guarded against the pain he might inflict.

  He reached out hesitantly and touched her dark hair.

  She didn’t flinch away. Just studied his face.

  A car whizzed by behind them. Another. The sound faded away into the horizon, and quiet fell.

  He looked down at the cross for Jeremy. A man who’d done something so horrendous to the woman he loved. Reflexively his fist clenched. “I could kill him.”

  Angelica reached out and put her hand over his. “He’s gone. Leave it to God.” Her voice shook a little, and when he looked away from Jeremy’s cross and into her eyes, he saw that they were shiny with tears.

  One overflowed, rolled down her cheek. “You kicked us out. You didn’t believe me.”

  “I’m so sorry.” He relaxed his fist and reached out slowly to thumb the tears away. “I love you. I never stopped loving you. Can you forgive me?”

  There was a moment’s silence. Long enough for him to feel the cooling breeze against his back and smell the sweet, pungent zing of ozone. It was going to rain.

  “I don’t know.” She knelt there, her face still wet with tears, and studied him seriously. As though she was trying to read him. “I love you, too, Troy. But I can’t live with being distrusted, and I can’t live with someone who thinks I’m a bad person inside.”

  “You’re the best person I know!” The words burst out of him and he realized they were the exact truth. She’d gone through so much, and with such faith, and there was humility and wisdom and dignity in every move she made, every word she spoke. “Look, I screwed up, and I screwed up bad. I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Even that won’t be enough, but I want to try.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.” He touched her hand, tentatively, carefully. “I can’t guarantee I’ll never make another mistake, but I can guarantee it won’t be about who you are inside.”

  She didn’t look convinced.

  He blundered on. “Like, I tend to be jealous.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “No kidding. Right?”

  “It’s just, I know how incredible you are, and I see other men seeing it, and it makes me crazy.”

  Her lips tightened. “I’m not flattered by that, Troy. It’s not a good thing.”

  “I know. I’m willing to do whatever I need to do to fix this. Read self-help books. Get counseling. Join Di
on’s men’s group at church.”

  “That,” she said instantly. “That’s what you need. Other men to rein you in when you go all macho.”

  “I’ll call him tomorrow.” He took both of her hands in his. “Look, Angelica, I’m nowhere near as good of a person as you are. But I need you to know that I’ll do everything in my power to protect you and Xavier. I’ll take care of you and love you for the rest of my days. And I will never, ever tell you to leave again.”

  She looked steadily into his eyes as if she was reading him, judging him. And she had the right. She had to protect her son.

  Finally her face broke into a smile. “I’m not a better person than you are. I’ve made plenty of mistakes and I’m sure I’ll make more.”

  “Does this mean...” He trailed off, hardly daring to hope.

  To his shock, she laughed, a pure, joyous sound. “You caught me on the right day,” she said. “I’m on a forgiveness roll.”

  He took her face in his hands and was blown away by the sheer goodness of who she was. “I don’t deserve you. You’re...you’re amazing, inside and out. I...” He ran out of words. Way to go, Hinton. Smooth with the ladies, as always.

  She lifted her eyebrows, a tiny smile quirking the corner of her mouth. “Does this mean... What does this mean?”

  She looked at peace about whether he wanted to marry her or not, whether they had a future or not. She had that glow of faith. She’d always had it, but it glowed brighter now.

  He had so much to learn from her. And what could he, with his gimpy leg and his ignorant rages and his general guy immaturity, offer her?

  Little enough, but if he could ease her parenting burdens and listen to her problems and protect her from anyone—anyone!—who so much as looked sideways at her, he wanted to do it. Would devote his life to doing it.

  “It means,” he said, “that I want you to marry me. For real. Forever. I want to help you and support you and be Xavier’s dad. And I want it for the rest of our lives, through thickheadedness and illness and whatever else life throws at us. If you’ll have me.”

  She looked at him with love glowing in her eyes. “Of course I will.”