***
The next morning, Peter woke up earlier than usual, determined to make the drive to Houston to see Angel before heading to work. He looked up the address Mrs. Fuentes had given him and realized he had quite a long drive ahead of him. Better get to it.
He wasn’t sure what he would do, actually. All Peter really wanted was just a glimpse of Angel. It would be too early to wake her, but maybe, just maybe, he would catch her leaving for work. Then he would summon the courage to speak to her—to explain, to apologize.
If he made it there. Peter glanced at the clock once again. Seven thirteen a.m.
As he plodded along through traffic toward Houston, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had made a mistake in judgment by attempting this feat so early in the day. Not only would it cause him to be late for work, he’d barely have time to say two words to Angel, if he did happen to locate her at home.
And yet something wouldn’t let him turn the car around. On he went, through mounds of traffic. By the time he reached River Oaks, the sun had been up for quite some time. Peter glanced at his watch and groaned. He should be starting his rounds right about now. He made a quick call to explain his tardiness and thankfully found a sympathetic ear on the other end of the call. Thank You, Lord.
As Peter pulled into Angel’s subdivision, a revelation came to him. All of this time he had been thinking of Angel as poverty-stricken. It had never occurred to him she hailed from a well-to-do family. But the homes in this subdivision were certainly nicer than he had anticipated. A sense of dread seemed to fill him almost immediately. If she was from a wealthy family, why would she be interested in a trash collector?
He very nearly turned the car around. Only one thing prevented it. Rob’s sermon yesterday morning had struck a nerve. One passage, in particular, had forced Peter to take a look at his own shortcomings and weigh them against his actions over the past several months. The verse from Proverbs had stayed with him—all through the night, in fact. “A man's pride brings him low, but a man of lowly spirit gains honor.”
For months Peter had claimed to avoid his father’s brand of pride—the sort that puffed itself up. Instead, he had, without even realizing it, substituted his own version. “Anything that causes you to focus on yourself is pride,” Rob had preached. “Arrogance is one form, yes, but one form only. Thinking too little of yourself is another. Anything that places your eyes on yourself could be labeled pride.”
Interesting revelation. And here he sat, facing the very truth of those words. This time, the truth carried a sting he had not expected. Laying aside all pride meant it shouldn’t make any difference—whether he worked as a trash collector or a well-paid talent agent. It also shouldn’t matter if Angel came from a life of poverty or a life of luxury. If God had truly brought them together, the only real concerns were issues of the heart.
Even now, his heart felt as if it would burst inside him each time he thought about Angel. What was it he had said to Rob, just a few short days ago? The woman I have in mind for my wife will be ministry-oriented. She’ll be sweet and kind and have a heart for the down and out. She’ll be someone who lives to help people, not steal from them.”
“I see your dilemma,” Rob had responded. “The girl you’ve described is nothing like that.”
Peter shook his head in disbelief. “How wrong could I be?”
He pulled his car to a stop in front of a white brick house with manicured yard and began to pray for the courage to face the woman he had waited for all of his life.
***
Angel pulled her car into the parking lot at Tennyson Towers. She had come with one purpose in mind—to wait on Peter Campbell. She would sit in her car until the trash truck arrived. Then she would do what she had longed to do for days. She would offer him an apology and an explanation. Then she would ask if they could start over again—from the very beginning. He would forgive her and, for old time’s sake, she would take him to lunch at the same little diner he had introduced her to that first day. Then she would ask him to go with her to the feeding center, where she would meet with the director and begin her next story. Peter would assist her.
Yes, she certainly had every detail worked out. Except one. How to find Peter. Now that might be a bit of a problem. She waited awhile long, glancing at her watch on occasion. Nine thirty-two a.m. Probably a little early. No matter. She would sit here as long as it took.
Angel pulled a stick of gum out of the wrapper and folded it in half before popping it in her mouth. Then she turned on the radio. A talk show? No thanks. I need something that will keep me awake. She yawned and switched stations. When the strain of a familiar love song filled the car, she leaned back against the seat and relaxed.
Why do I still dream of you? Why are you the one I long for?”
Her heart immediately felt as if it would overflow. Lord, I know I don’t know Peter very well, but you’ve brought us together for some reason. Don’t let me lose him now. Please, Lord.
She carefully walked back through every time she had seen Peter Campbell over the past week, smiling with each memory.
His face as he reached to help her out of the dumpster—nearly angelic.
His smile as she ordered enough food for two, maybe even three, people at the diner.
His look of compassion as he laid out the gospel message while she waited for her brother’s car to arrive.
His wide-eyed stare as she entered his home dressed in that new black dress.
His look of sheer terror and confusion as she ran from the office on the fourth floor.
All of these surfaced, and more. Angel pushed down the emotions that accompanied these memories, forcing herself not to cry as she thought about what a good man he had turned out to be. I was so wrong about him, but I’ll make it up to him. I will.
Her reflections slowed and memories of yesterday’s meeting at church surfaced. In spite of her heavy workload at KPRC, Angel had another project in mind. She would soon head up a Bible study on the book of James. In preparation, God had revealed so many things to her from His Word.
She reached for her Bible and opened it to what was rapidly becoming one of her favorite chapters in the Bible, the first chapter of James. Angel couldn’t help but smile as she read, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”
The past week had certainly tried her patience. She had nearly given up on several occasions. But perseverance was finishing its work and she was rapidly on her way to becoming complete.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Peter summoned up the courage to knock on the front door of the Fuentes home, but no one answered. For some time he stood there, waiting. His heart nearly broke as he climbed back into his car and leaned his head against the steering wheel. Would he and Angel ever see each other again or was he just trying to force the Lord’s hand? As he turned the key in the ignition, Peter analyzed the situation a bit more clearly. He had wasted a trip into the city and had risked his job in the process.
All the way back to Galveston, Peter prayed God would show him what his next move should be. If any.
***
10:26 a.m.
Angel squirmed as she continued to wait. A very full bladder kept her from relaxing. In fact, it kept her from doing anything except bouncing up and down on the seat as she attempted to avoid the inevitable. Finally, when she could take it no more, she climbed out of the car and headed toward the building.
A chill ran up her spine as she opened the back door of Tennyson Towers. To think, just a few short days ago she had fled through this very door. On that day this place had terrified her. Today it seemed just an ordinary office complex.
Angel’s heels clicked as she made her way across the lobby. She entered the ladies room and quickly headed for a stall. Once finished, she gave her appearance a once-over in t
he mirror. “Hmmm.” She pulled a tube of lipstick out of her purse and touched up her lips. She stepped back and took a look at herself.
Today’s apparel was quite different from anything she had worn last week. A tailored tan suit complemented her dark hair and a cream colored blouse looked almost white against her tanned skin. She had swept her hair up with a clip and carefully applied makeup and nail polish. She wore a silver necklace with a delicate cross pendant around her neck—a gift from her parents last Christmas. Today Angel wasn’t playing a part. Today, she was just herself.
As she turned to leave, the bathroom door opened and a woman shuffled inside with a mop in her hands. “Oh, excuse me Honey, I didn’t know anyone was in here.” The older woman turned, then turned back and gazed at her curiously. “Hey, aren’t you. . .?”
Angel clutched her purse with her left hand and extended her right. “We’ve never been properly introduced. My name is Angel Fuentes.”
“The Voice of the Angels.” The older woman grinned. “I saw you on the news. We all did.” She paused as she gave Angel a funny look. “Answered a lot of questions in my mind, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“I’m glad,” Angel said. “I suppose we do need to talk, don’t we.”
“Yes. Well, I thought it was you,” Mabel said, “but to be honest, you look so different all done up like that, I hardly knew you. Quite a difference from the girl I met last week.”
Angel’s hand trembled a little as Mabel clutched it. “I owe you an apology,” she said. “I’m really sorry I couldn’t tell you who I was. You see, I –”
“Don’t say another word.” Mabel put both hands in the air in mock despair. “You don’t owe me a thing. In fact, we probably all owe you. If you hadn’t stopped those guys upstairs, who knows what might have become of all of us.”
Angel shrugged. “I wasn’t trying to be deceptive, especially not to you.”
“Oh, forget it, Hon. I might be old, but I still love a little adventure.” She grinned like a schoolgirl. “What brings you back out here today? Not more bad news, I hope.”
“Oh no. Nothing like that,” Angel explained. “You see, I, uh, well…”
“Another escapade?” Mabel’s eyes lit up.
Angel shrugged. “Of a different sort, maybe. You see, there’s this guy. I met him last week.”
“Ooo! A romantic adventure! Well, out with it, Kid. I don’t have all day.” Mabel leaned against the counter and listened as Angel shared the story of how Peter had found her that very first day. The older woman nodded several times as the story continued, adding an occasional tidbit of wisdom. When the whole story was finished, she patted Angel on the back. “I just have one question for you, Honey. What in the world are you doing in here talking to this old lady when you could be out there, making things right with the man of your dreams?”
Angel glanced at her watch once again. Eleven fourteen a.m. “Oh no!” She gave Mabel a quick hug, then raced from the bathroom, back out into the lobby. Through the glass door she could see the dumpster in the back parking lot. She made her way outside and sprinted over to see if it had been emptied.
Full.
Angel fought to catch her breath. She looked up as she heard Mabel’s voice. “Didn’t miss him, did you?”
“No. Thank goodness.”
“Well, why don’t you wait over here on the bench? I was just about to take my lunch break.” She waved a paper bag. “How does ham and cheese on wheat sound to you?”
“Great,” Angel acknowledged. “I’m starving.” She trotted along behind Mabel, grateful for the familiar comfort of the bench.
They sat and had a good long conversation. Mabel shared her views on love, on youth and on faith. Angel listened carefully, nibbling all the while on the much-needed sandwich. When she glanced at her watch again, she was surprised to see how quickly the time had flown. 12:33 p.m. “Well, I hate to cut this short, but I’ve got a 1:00 appointment.” She stood to her feet and stretched, suddenly realizing just how tired she was. The events of the past week were catching up with her.
“You’re going to miss him, Honey!” Mabel said with a pout.
Angel shrugged. “I don’t know what else to do. I’m supposed to meet with the director at the feeding center at 1:00. I’m working on a new story for the station.”
“Well, I’ll be praying for you, then.” Mabel stood and wrapped loving arms around her. “In the meantime, I’d better get myself back in there and get to work before they can me.” She waved as she made her way back toward the building. “See you on the television.”
Angel waved her response, then quickly finished the sandwich and swallowed down a couple of potato chips. With a sigh, she wadded up the paper bag and napkin. She walked toward the familiar dumpster with trash in hand, deep in thought. Angel tossed the bag over the top of the dumpster and turned to walk back to the car, her mind reeling.
She tried to open the door, but found it locked. Oh, I forgot…. She fished around in her pocket for the keys. Where did I put them, again? They were right here, in my…
…hand. They were in my hand. I had them in my hand with the bag. And now the bag is. . .
She looked back at dumpster defeated. Don’t tell me. She slapped herself in the head and leaned against the car.
“I’ll have to call Nardo again. He’ll come and get me.” But how? Her cell phone sat on the front seat in plain view. Locked in.
“Looks like I have no choice.” Angel groaned as she made her way toward the dumpster once again. She muttered to herself all the way. She recoiled at the foul odor coming from inside.
An opening on the back side of the dumpster beckoned. At least she wouldn’t have to climb over this time. Maybe she could just lean inside a bit and have a peek. Surely the keys would reveal themselves.
Angel leaned in, in, in. . .and quickly found herself dangling over the edge by her mid-section. She wiggled her way inside, pinching her nose and squealing all the way. “This is so gross!” She let out a scream as he hand grasped something slimy. Chinese food. Sweet and sour sauce covered her hand. She rubbed it against her thigh, leaving a dark stain on her jeans. Then she pressed forward in the quest for her keys.
Angel heard voices as people walked by and quickly slid the side panel closed, hoping not to be discovered. I’ll get out of here on my own. As soon as I can find those keys, that is. The minutes ticked away as she grabbed at anything and everything that even resembled a silver key. Finally she located them. Under her left foot. She must have accidentally stepped on the panic button because, from across the parking lot, her car alarm began to go off. Angel quickly grabbed the remote and pressed the button. Unfortunately, the keys slipped through her fingers and plummeted downward again. They went down somewhere between the Chinese food and an open container of yogurt.
She stuck one hand down, down, down and grasped for them once again. This time she held them with a vengeance and snapped the alarm off. She then waded back over to the side of the dumpster and pulled at the panel to open it.
It wouldn’t budge.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Peter prayed all the way to Galveston. “Every time I turn around, I think I’m doing Your Will, Lord, but then things don’t turn out the way I think they’re going to. Am I completely off-base?”
He felt almost sick as he thought about Angel. His misconceptions of her had caused a huge rift between them, one that might never be mended. And yet it must be mended. He knew in his heart that meeting her had been no accident. Surely the Lord had a bigger plan. Peter’s heart wouldn’t hurt this badly, otherwise.
Determined not to let this morning’s loss ruin his day, he arrived at work and climbed aboard the trash truck. Back to work, as usual. As he turned onto the familiar stretch of The Strand, his thoughts shifted to the relationship with his father once again. He struggled with the fact that so much time had elapsed and he still hadn’t worked up the courage to approach his dad for a heart to heart discussion about th
eir relationship.
But he would do that tonight. The relationship with his father could be mended. Would be mended.
But the relationship with Angel…
That would take an act of God.
***
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Angel tugged again and again at the metal panel until her strength was given out. Frustrated, she stood to grasp the top rim. “Looks like I’m going to have to get out of here the hard way.” As she pulled herself up, she heard the sickening sound of brakes squealing, coupled with an engine’s roar. “No!” The shriek of grinding metal came next. Suddenly the dumpster jolted. Angel thought her heart would lurch from her chest as she peered over the edge of the dumpster and found herself face to face with the trash truck once again. “No! Peter! Peter, stop!” She screamed as loudly as she could, but the noises below kept him from looking her way.
She caught his attention just as the monstrous contraption tipped forward. Peter’s eyes grew large as they locked into hers and his mouth flew open. The dumpster stopped immediately and began to rock back and forth, seemingly suspended in space. Angel lost her grip on the edge and lurched backward. The keys flew out of her hand once again.
Iron thrashed against iron. She heard it all and instinctively knew what would come next. The arms released the dumpster. It hit the ground with a thud and she quickly found herself immersed in garbage from toe to eyebrow. She let out a sigh and began to pick chow-mein noodles out of her hair.
“Angel?” Peter’s voice rang out from the parking lot. “Angel, I’m so sorry.” Are you okay?
She groaned and leaned back against the edge of the dumpster in defeat. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”
He leaped over the top of the dumpster and flattened a tub of sweet and sour sauce with his backside as he landed. It sprayed everywhere. Angel couldn’t help but laugh.
Texas Weddings (Books Five and Six): Angel Incognito & Deep in the Heart of Mayhem Page 14
