Guilty of Love

by Pat Simmons

  In no time, Cheney understood how foster parents became attached. Once Kami left, the cycle would begin again. She glanced at Parke who was watching her. He stretched out an arm to welcome her in his embrace. Cheney’s heart sank. She scooted close to them and buried her head into Parke’s shoulder.

  “What’s the matter, sweetheart, good or bad news?”

  Lifting her head, Cheney’s saw the tenderness in his face. “For me, bad news.”

  Immediately on alert, Parke stiffened. “Why?”

  “The more I spend time with you, the deeper I fall for you.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?”

  “This is as close to having a baby as I’ll ever get.” She pointed to Kami. “Parke the seventh won’t come through me.”

  Loosening his arm around Kami, Parke guided Cheney’s chin closer to his mouth, whispering, “If you’re in deep, then I’ve got you right where I want you. I’m not going to let you dig out.” Parke gave Cheney a thorough kiss, commanding her to surrender.

  Cheney felt herself drifting away into a blissful existence until a sharp pain forced her to break away. Her tormenting scream caused Parke’s lids to flutter open, and his eyes bulge. Kami’s small fingers had gripped Cheney’s cheek. Red streaks marred Cheney’s once flawless skin.

  Kami’s usual blank expression transformed into a game face—hateful stare, and a pout—designed to instill fear into the fiercest beast. “Mine,” she spat out, hugging Parke.

  ***

  Parke jumped up with Kami clinging to his shirt. “Cheney,” he cried. He was furious as her face welted and bled. How could this little baby lash out like a wild animal? Bonding with Kami was important, but Parke would protect Cheney at all costs. She had suffered enough emotional abuse at the hands of a man. No one, not even a small child, would hurt her again. Fuming, he reached out and touched her face. “Let me see, baby.”

  His nostrils flared as he grimaced. Turning to the toddler in his arms, Parke gave her his own game face. “Kami, don’t you ever touch Cheney again. She’s mine.” He pointed to his chest. Parke recalled his pre-service training emphasizing no corporal punishment. He raised his hand and tapped Kami three times on her tiny hand.

  There was no reaction. She was accustomed to abuse. Kami expected it, emotionally and physically. Evidently she built a resistance against it. The child’s response reinforced what Parke already knew from training class. Cheney wandered into the kitchen and returned with a towel pressed against her face. He couldn’t decipher her mood. Since her scream of agony, she hadn’t said a word.

  Cheney reached for the toddler. “Let me have her, Parke.” Her voice was soft, gentle, and non-threatening.

  Kami resisted. Cheney cooed the child’s name over and over until the toddler went willingly. She sat and gently cuddled Kami on her lap. She rocked back and forth, whispering, “I’m yours, too, Kami. Cheney loves you, and I’m yours, too.”

  Parke wanted to embrace them, but he knew Cheney would have to handle Kami when he wasn’t around, so he let her deal with it in her own way. Despite what she thought of herself, the woman had strong maternal qualities. Cheney would be his wife. She was a fighter, and every strong Jamieson woman had to know how to fight for what she wanted and believed in. Parke hated Larry for cheating Cheney out of bearing her own children.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  “What about Aruba, or another island for our honeymoon?” Hallison asked Malcolm as she flipped through pages of a thick bridal magazine. He seemed more focus on the curls in her hair than the pictures.

  Wedding planner, Sara Duffy’s eyes sparkled as she watched them. “Ah, true love. I can spot it anywhere. Aruba is known for island magic.”

  Malcolm stroked his beard, listening. “I believe in Hali magic.”

  “Is your young man always so focused?” The older pump woman with a slight gap between her front teeth asked.

  Looking at Malcolm under the hood of her lashes, Hallison answered, “Always.” She brought two fingers to her lips then touched Malcolm’s. His hand held her fingers in place. “Keep that up woman, and we’ll elope.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Jamieson,” Sara interjected, chuckling. “I’m focused on your spending your money and giving you two a fairy tale wedding.”

  “By all means, Mrs. Duffy, do whatever it takes to make my baby happy.”

  Once they were done with their appointment, they met her mother for lunch. The discussion was lively and food delicious, but after they finished, Addison prayed for them. “You two still got time to come to Jesus.” Then she hugged them.

  Inwardly, Hallison cringed while Malcolm hugged Addison back, whispering, “I’m not against prayer, so please continue to pray for us.”

  “Don’t think I’m not, young man. When I pray, I believe God.” She winked.

  ***

  Cheney and Kami had settled into a nightly routine and understanding. Kami would splash around in her bubble bath. After she was in her pj’s that Parke bought her, Cheney would read her funny bedtime stories, compliments of Mrs. Beacon.

  When Kami became frustrated, she would pinch Cheney on her arm or legs. Learning was a slow process. If Parke didn’t stop by, he would call nightly and speak to Kami, assuring her he was still around.

  Monday night around midnight, Cheney’s phone startled her out of a restful sleep. She answered before the ringing woke Kami. “Hello?”

  “This is Beverly Thom, the on-call placement coordinator. I’ve got an emergency situation with a brother and sister. They’re in a patrol car. Can you accept them?”

  Cheney’s head started spinning. “What can you tell me about them?”

  “Sasha is an eleven-year-old girl. She told police her stepfather fondled and attempted to rape her. When her thirteen-year-old brother, Dre, found out, he went ballistic, severely beating the stepdad with a brick. Can you handle them?”

  “I’ll try.” Climbing out of bed, Cheney quickly dressed and washed her face. Walking downstairs, she peeked through her shutters every five minutes.

  At twelve-fifty, a police cruiser parked in front of her home. Two officers got out and coaxed the brother and sister to her door. As one officer introduced them, the honey-colored girl wore the same frightened expression as Kami had the first time. Her brother appeared to be older than thirteen. His eyes held an angry, cold stare, his mouth stretched into a line of defiance, and his arms folded in a challenge.

  Cheney ushered the officers and the children inside, thinking this was going to be a long night. She hoped Kami would sleep straight through. Soon, Parke barged in the door. On cue, Kami scooted down the stairs, rubbing her eyes before racing toward him.

  Scooping her up, he marched to Cheney. “What’s going on? You okay?” he asked, almost breathless. She nodded as he embraced her tightly, feeling his heart pound wildly against her face. “I was doing my usual nightly drive-by before heading home when I saw the police car and the lights on and—”

  The tall, gray-haired officer who looked days from retiring, stepped forward and cleared his throat. “You are?” authority was implied in two words.

  Parke placed Kami on her feet despite her protest, but kept his arm around Cheney. “I’m Parke Jamieson. I’m the foster care parent assisting Miss Reynolds.”

  The rookie officer’s eyes hinted there was more to Parke’s story. “That name sounds familiar. Do you have any outstanding warrants?”

  “Of course not, but I’m sure you’ll check. You’ve probably seen my name listed somewhere as a storyteller or as a broker.”

  Rocking on his heels, the rookie tilted his head, squinting. “Maybe.”

  When the phone rang, Cheney didn’t have to guess who was on the other end. After explaining to Mrs. Beacon about her new arrivals and Parke’s presence, her neighbor agreed not to change out of her skimpy night attire into something more appropriate and come over. Cheney said good-bye and returned to her unexpected guests.

  Sasha hid behind her broth
er. Dre kept his arms folded in a protective stance, daring anybody to touch them. Cheney fought to keep her eyes open. She knew Sasha and Dre had to be exhausted. She made a mental note to stock up on different size pajamas for these emergency cases.

  “If everything is under control, we’re leaving, but we’re a 9-1-1 call away,” the older cop advised, casting a warning glance at Dre before walking out the door. His young cadet followed, but not without lifting a brow to confirm what his partner had said.

  Parke reached out to touch the brother and sister, but Sasha jumped back. Dre snarled like an attack dog, allowing Cheney a glimpse of his aggressive behavior. Parke didn’t back down. “It’s okay. Are you two hungry?”

  “I’ll go make coffee and hot chocolate,” Cheney offered, dragging her bare feet across the living room floor to the kitchen. It was going to be a very long night.

  By the time she returned with four mugs on a tray, Kami was sound asleep in Parke’s arms. Dre and Sasha were huddled together in the corner on the edge of her sofa. She offered both hot chocolate. They accepted only after their stomachs growled.

  “Dre and Sasha, I know it’s been a very long evening. If you want to talk, then we can stay up all night,” Cheney said, sipping her black coffee. “If you’re sleepy, I have warm beds upstairs for you to try and get some rest. If you want to cry, I’ll cry with you.” At least this time, her guests came on a Friday night.

  ***

  Parke sat back observing Cheney reach out to the siblings. The training sessions they attended were right. These two didn’t look like they were on the verge of trusting anybody for the rest of their lifetime. Cheney was patient. Parke was so proud of her. She had taken her role as a foster parent seriously and was accepting some unpredictable emergency cases. She needs to rethink this, though. At least traditional cases would knock at your door between nine and five, Parke thought.

  He was convinced Cheney didn’t miss out by not having children of her own. Kids seeking temporary shelter would benefit. After a long rebellious time, Sasha eventually accepted Cheney’s embrace as they cried together.

  Parke stood and went into Cheney’s kitchen to prepare everyone a snack. He returned to the living room with a platter of food to feed about ten people. Since taking in Kami, he kept Cheney’s pantry stocked for emergencies like tonight.

  Dre wasn’t shy as he alternated between eating two ham-and-cheese sandwiches and pacing Cheney’s hardwood floor. “I’ll never go back there. My mother can have that nasty old man. Mama should’ve listened when Sasha told her the first time,” he fussed, ripping meat from its sandwich. Getting seasick from Dre’s movement, Parke joined him pacing and let him talk until the boy ran out of steam.

  “If you or any other man tries to touch my sister again, I’ll kill you.” Dre’s expression and body language suggested he wasn’t bluffing.

  “What your stepfather did is not the norm. You have a right to be angry. You did the right thing to protect your sister, man,” Parke reassured the teenager.

  Dre looked shocked. “That’s not what my mother said.”

  Finally, Dre agreed to engage in a man-to-man talk with Parke. His demand was his sister would remain in his sight. After four hours of discussion and sniffing, Cheney carried a sleepy Kami upstairs to bed with Dre and Sasha dragging behind.

  Parke knew he would have to go purchase jeans, sweats, and other clothing for their new arrivals. “I hate to go,” Parke uttered when Cheney returned. “I can sleep on the couch in case you need me. I’m worried about leaving you alone with Dre agitated.”

  “Didn’t you know I’m a new millennium woman and I can handle anything?” Cheney attempted a smirk.

  “Really?” Parke lifted his brow. “Good, then you can handle me and all the love I have. You’re my woman now, and I’m not letting you do this alone.”

  Cheney relaxed her head against his chest. He didn’t know if she was content with him being there or too tired to stand. His fingers combed through her wavy hair with gentle strokes.

  “I shook from the bottle today.” Cheney bashfully looked at him.

  “And?”

  “It said you would prove your love for me.”

  “I will.”

  “It’s not a question of me handling your love. Do I deserve it?”

  Parke placed soft kisses on Cheney’s face. “Baby, I’m only going to say Larry’s name one last time. He didn’t deserve you, your love, or your heart. ”

  “I wish I could forget about Larry.”

  “Trust me, you will,” Parke advised before leaving.

  ***

  Parke couldn’t sleep. He would love to have five minutes alone with Larry. “I could do damage in three.” He frowned at his thoughts. He wasn’t a violent person, but he wanted Cheney happy. He was also worried about her with the late-night arrivals. He dialed her number. “How are you and your house guests?”

  “Everybody’s sleeping,” she whispered in a husky voice, “and I was dreaming about this warm, good-looking, and good-smelling man, but you woke me up.” Click.

  That’s all he needed to know. Rolling over, Parke drifted into sleep, smiling.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  “If you want to know how everybody’s doing, then come over and find out,” Cheney warned Parke after his third morning call. So about one in the afternoon, he did just that. Mrs. Beacon had already introduced herself before leaving for her Salsa class.

  “We had a setback last night,” Cheney revealed as she greeted Parke at the door.

  “Uh-oh. Who?” Parke asked, groaning.

  “Kami. I think it was too much excitement,” she whispered.

  Juggling pizzas, cinnamon sticks, and liters of sodas, Parke planted a hard kiss on Cheney’s lips as he came inside. “Do I want to know?”

  Kami bolted out of the kitchen, heading straight for his legs. “Whoa.” He steadied himself. “That girl is getting stronger every day,” he said, continuing toward her kitchen.

  Cheney bent down and scooped up the little terror. “You can give him a hug once he puts the food down. Okay?” Cheney nodded yes for Kami to mimic, and the child did.

  In the kitchen, Parke spoke to the teenagers before strolling out with his arms stretched out to hug Cheney. “Wait a minute, Kami. I need to hug Cheney first, remember?” Their embrace was brief. “You look pretty.”

  Cheney closed her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “I love it when you wear your hair down. It softens your already beautiful features.”

  “Thank you, again,” she said, blushing. Something she hadn’t done as much since the first few months with Larry.

  “I love you,” he added, then squatted for Kami to plant a juicy kiss on his cheek.

  “Pizza.” Kami clapped her hands. “Sodie.”

  “Ask Dre if he will pour you a cup,” he said. Like an unwound toy, Kami took off. Alone, Parke looked at her. “Okay, now tell me what happened last night.”

  Cheney rested her forehead against his. “This morning I went into their room to check on Sasha. Poor thing was crying in her sleep, so I lay down and gathered her to me, holding and rocking her. Basically, I was just trying to comfort her. We dozed off.”

  They walked back into her living room, ignoring Kami’s cries, Dre’s yelling, and Sasha’s whining as they argued in the kitchen about which bottle of soda to open.

  “Next thing we know, Kami’s biting Sasha’s leg, yelling, ‘Cheney mine.’ Sasha screamed, and Dre barged through the door ready for battle.”

  “We’re going to have to talk to the counselor about her aggressive outbursts.” Relaxing his frown, Parke massaged her cheek. “On a lighter note, if I had known Dre was a one-man army, I would’ve gotten a good night’s sleep instead of worrying.”

  “You’d leave protecting your woman to a thirteen-year-old?”

  “A new millennium woman can handle anything,” Parke reminded her.

  She playfully latched on to his lips, subjecting him to a stirring kiss wh
en someone patted her leg and tugged on Parke’s pants. They opened their eyes. It was Kami. “At least she didn’t scratch or bite me,” Cheney whispered, then joined the children in the kitchen while Parke went to his vehicle and retrieved bags of clothes for the siblings. Soon enough, everyone was stuffed with pizza.

  “Dre, Sasha, you can call home, only if it won’t upset you,” Cheney offered, waiting for their reaction. It didn’t take long.

  Anger flashed across Dre’s once content face. “Nah. Do I have to?”

  Sasha’s eyes were riveted on her brother. She remained silent.

  “No,” Parke answered, gathering trash.

  Collecting plates, Cheney loaded the dishwasher. “Hey, why don’t you go next door? Grandma BB should be back by now. Don’t tell her I let you two know that she was almost arrested, wrestling for the last PlayStation at Target.” Cheney’s mouth stretched into a slow grin. “I think she’s been practicing on it.”

  Dre tried his best to act unfazed, toying with the invitation.

  “It’s okay, Dre. You two are safe there. Go on, you’re not in a prison,” Parke encouraged. “When was the last time you played?”

  A frown held back Dre’s smile. When Sasha nudged him, he practically knocked over his chair pushing back from the table. “I guess we can go and check it out. C’mon.”

  “First, try on your new clothes,” Parke ordered.

  “Nah, that’s all right,” Dre said, shrugging as he grabbed his sister. When Kami protested, he took her hand, too. Hesitantly, the trio headed for the door as Cheney and Parke exchanged cautious looks.

  Sunday night when the siblings were still at Cheney’s house, she called Wilma to find out what arrangement should be made about school. Wilma informed her if it wasn’t a burden, she could take them back to their old school, and Cheney agreed. She would have to leave earlier in the mornings.