by Pat Simmons
Cheney had fallen into another routine with Sasha and Dre. They cleaned their rooms without prompting and dressed without complaining. The counselor returned for a second evaluation within a week because of the severity of Sasha and Dre’s situation. “They’re adjusting well,” Wilma informed her.
On Saturday after lunch, everyone was in the kitchen about to bake cookies until Parke showed up. Kami raced to the door with Dre tagging along. Sasha was still uncomfortable around him, so she stayed at Cheney’s side. Kami’s giggles and loud talk, mixed with Dre’s excitement, filtered throughout the house.
Parke stepped into the kitchen with a bright smile and mischief written all over his face as he brushed his lips against the top of Cheney’s hair. “Hey, babe.”
“Hey. Why are you so happy? What are you up to?”
He whipped out five tickets. “The Cards vs. Cubs baseball game begins in two hours.”
Dre was standing behind Parke with praying hands, pleading. Kami was holding on to Parke’s free hand, sucking her thumb. Sasha wouldn’t meet Cheney’s eyes.
“We just took everything out to bake cookies, and the kids—”
“Unless you want the children to see how a man kisses the woman he loves, I suggest you agree,” he leaned closer, murmuring against her lips.
She hated when Parke got the upper-hand so she bit his bottom lip.
“Ouch!” Parke yelled, rubbing his lip. He looked around and all the children were laughing, even Sasha. He turned back to her and mouthed, “I’ll get you for that.”
Teasingly, Cheney lifted her brow and threw him a kiss. He makes me happy. God, thank You for Parke and the children.
Dre tapped Parke on his shoulder. “Ah, can you and Cheney get each other another time, so we can get to the game, man.”
Sharing a laugh before Cheney breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t know what Dre was like before, but she believed the game would allow him to be a kid again. Less than an hour later, everybody was settled in Parke’s Envoy. Parke reached across the seat and engulfed Cheney’s hand in his. She glanced in the backseat and smiled. Kami had mimicked them and latched onto Dre and Sasha.
Outside Busch Stadium, Parke purchased Cardinal red baseball caps and jerseys for everybody. Kami giggled as he swung her above his head, anchoring her legs on his shoulders. Dre’s eyes lit brightly as he idolized Parke’s playful nature. Sasha seemed less heavyhearted as she admired the new purchases, but she remained by Cheney’s side.
They were several feet away from the entrance when a petite, medium-brown-skinned woman decked out in a red Cardinal T-shirt, white shorts, and bright red lipstick yelled Parke’s name. He spun around and smiled at the gorgeous woman coming their way.
“Kelsi, it’s good seeing you.” His smile was weak. Clearly he was lying.
She stopped in front of him, eyed them and folded her arms. The woman was gearing up her Black sistah attitude—rolling her neck, hands on hips, and spitting daggers.
“I can’t say the same. No wonder you haven’t returned my calls. So this is the little family.” She snarled before balling her hands into fists and slapping them on her hips. The neck rolling came next. “You never mentioned them before we—”
Kami bent down swinging her arms and screaming, “Mine. Mine.”
Horrified, Kelsi stepped back. “You can have him, honey.” She twitched her nose and sauntered away into the crowd.
Sasha gripped Cheney’s hand tighter after the confrontation. Kami was now in Parke’s arms, smothering him with kisses; Dre was rubbing the make-believe hair on his chin, grinning. “Man, she sure was fine,” he said with his eyes on a retreating Kelsi.
Parke patted the teenager on the back before squeezing his neck. “Not as fine as Cheney.” He focused on her and mouthed, “Past trash and you know I love you.”
Cheney shivered; Kelsi’s drama didn’t faze her. She mouthed back, “I know.”
Inside the stadium, and sitting behind third base, Parke stuffed the kids with hot dogs, peanuts, and popcorn.
“We just ate at home,” she scolded Parke.
“I like hot dogs, Miss Cheney,” Sasha confessed with mustard smeared on her chin. Since the girl didn’t participate in their conversation frequently, Cheney shut her mouth and smiled.
During the seventh-inning stretch, they escorted the kids to the bathroom. When she and the girls stepped out of the ladies’ room, Dre and Parke were waiting by a concession stand. As Cheney approached them, a honey-colored sister cut off her path.
“Parke!” The woman waved, rotating her hips with each step.
Sasha whispered, “Oh no, not again.”
Cheney was thinking the same thing when Kami broke free from Cheney’s hand and charged toward Parke yelling, “Daddy, Daddy’s mine.”
The woman stopped in mid-strut with shock written all over her face. “You’ve been busy, Parke,” she said accusingly.
Scooping Kami up in his arms, he grinned. “Hey, Nyla, yeah, I have.”
“Well, she looks like you, you two-timer, unfaithful, slimy dog.” She stormed off.
Parke kissed Kami, mumbling, “You make a great bodyguard, girl.”
Two women within hours? Whew. Cheney’s head was spinning. Parke met her eyes held hers and held it in a trance. “We can’t change our past.”
Cheney nodded. “Boy, don’t I know.”
“Did you hear her call me Daddy?” He grinned like he had just given birth to her.
Ignoring him, Cheney rolled her eyes upward and walked ahead.
***
Parke knew it didn’t look good, but he loved beautiful women. He still did, which was why he had fallen in love with Cheney. A shocker, considering he fought the losing battle. The others were flings so he didn’t owe them an explanation. They needed to talk.
Once they were reseated and the game was underway, Parke turned to Cheney. “Those ladies were my past. Please don’t hold it against me.”
“How can I hold anything against you? You’re not holding my past against me.”
Yeah, it took him a while to come around, but the good thing was he did. Parke forced her to bite off a piece of his hot dog before sealing her lips with a kiss.
Dre nudged him in the side. “You two sure do kiss a lot.”
He pulled the baseball cap over Dre’s eyes. “Ah, eat your peanuts.”
One of Cubs’ outfielders hit a double and threatened to tie up the game, but the Cards came back in the bottom of the ninth with a three-run homer to win, seven to six.
Standing to leave, Parke gathered his crew. He hoped he wouldn’t run into any more of his lady friends. Just in case. Parke planned to keep Kami by his side. They filed in line with other fans to leave the ballpark.
Parke was preoccupied, thinking how Cheney’s dream of being a foster parent—even if it was limited to thirty days under her emergency care status—had become a reality, although it was cramping their dating time. What could he do about her guilt?
While waiting for a light to change at the corner of Broadway and Market Streets, Parke heard a familiar voice screamed his name. He cringed. He would recognize Annette’s voice anywhere, even in his sleep.
Dre clapped his hands and mumbled, “All right.”
As usual, she was expertly dressed in the red and white team colors with red sandals. The heels made her almost as tall as Cheney. Her shoulder-length brown hair matched her healthy caramel skin. She wore a bright smile and spoke in the softest, sweetest voice. She fell into his arms, hugging him for dear life.
When Cheney noticed Annette’s male companion smiling, she seemed to relax. Even Kami appeared calm. “Annette, believe it or not, I’m really glad to see you.”
She laughed and punched him in the arm. “Sure you are, liar.” Annette smiled at Kami as she reached out and rubbed the child’s arm. “What a beautiful little girl. Parke, I know you don’t have any kids, but she could pass as yours.”
Instead of Kami snarling, she leaned her head back agai
nst Parke’s shoulder as if she were shy. Parke tickled the toddler’s stomach. “This little monster is Kami, Cheney’s foster child, and I guess you can say mine, too.”
Kami stuck her tiny finger in Parke’s neck. “Mine.” She showed a toothy grin.
“She’s adorable,” Annette cooed before staring at Cheney.
It appeared Annette was gathering strength. No telling what was about to come out her mouth. Parke made the introductions.
Annette acted as if she was meeting a world-famous celebrity. “I’m sure you’re behind the change in this knucklehead.” She flung herself at Cheney and hugged her like she had known her for sixty years instead of sixty seconds.
The shock on Cheney’s face was priceless. She had no choice but to succumb to Annette’s hearty embrace.
Dre leaned over and whispered. “She’s fine, too. I’m going to have to hook up with you when I’m older.”
Embarrassed, Parke elbowed Dre into silence.
“You’re a very special woman who has entered Parke’s life. I feel it.” She leaned close to Cheney’s ear, but loud enough for him to hear. “Tie him down, honey. He’s a good man. He just needs Jesus in his life.” Annette gave him an award-winning smile.
“Since I don’t have Him in mine, I can’t help Parke,” Cheney explained.
“God has always been there. We find Him at different stages in our lives, but the most important thing is we find Him. You will,” Annette said convincingly, then moved on to Dre. “You sure are a handsome young man. Jesus loves you and so do I.” Dre didn’t look convinced. She gently held Sasha’s shoulders. “What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Sasha,” the girl uttered under her breath.
“That’s such a beautiful and classy name for a sweet and beautiful young lady. Jesus loves you, too.”
Making eye contact with Annette’s companion, Parke offered a handshake. “Parke Jamieson. Annette’s not only nosy, busy, and talkative, but she has taken on a rude quality and didn’t introduce you.”
“I’m Dyson Kidd. Nice to meet you, man. Annette said I had to meet you outside church territory, since you wouldn’t step foot inside ours.”
Not two church folks at one time on a street corner. Parke braced himself.
“Sorry, I’m just happy to see Parke. He’s cut ties with me ever since I decided to follow Jesus,” Annette explained as sadness filled her eyes.
“That’s not true. Cheney and the kids have been keepin’ me busy,” Parke argued.
“Not that busy,” Cheney instigated.
“Cheney, you’re supposed to be on my side.”
She gave him an indifferent shrug as Dyson pulled Annette closer. He recognized the look of love they exchanged. Parke was amused.
“Well, if a certain person hadn’t been avoiding me, maybe you would’ve met Minister Dyson Kidd,” Annette paused. “I’ve been inviting Parke to church, but he won’t come. Hopefully, Cheney, you can convince him and bring these lovely children.”
“Sorry, I’m not the one to convince anybody to attend church,” Cheney said.
Dyson interjected, “Please, be both our guests this Sunday.”
“Annette, we have plans with the kids, but thanks anyway. We better get these rugrats home,” Parke replied, checking his watch. It was one thing to end a conversation with her over the phone, but how could he get rid of her now?
“Do you mind if we pray for you before you leave?” Dyson asked.
He knew it! Parke would rather face more of his ex’s than Annette. Looking around, no one was paying them any attention, but Parke didn’t want to start a revival on the street corner. He was about to decline when Cheney softly answered, “Please.”
“Let’s join hands. Whatever you need, God’s got it.” Dyson bowed his head and closed his eyes. “Father, in the name of Jesus, we stand before You, thanking You…”
Making sure he had a strong grip on Kami’s small hands, Parke kept one eye open. Even Dre’s head was bowed. We’re standing on a street corner!
Dyson continued, “God, You know our requests before we ask, and You’re able to grant them. Draw us closer to Your great salvation and give us peace in Jesus’s name, Amen.”
“Amen,” Annette repeated.
The kids and Cheney echoed their Amens while Parke mumbled his.
After releasing hands, Annette gave Cheney a bear hug. “The Holy Ghost is telling me you need something from God. Whatever it is, it’s yours for the asking.”
A tear slid down Cheney’s face. Parke wanted to strangle Annette for upsetting her. After four tries, he was able to pull Annette and Cheney apart to go. Finally, back in his SUV, the children dozed within minutes as Cheney stared out the window. “Tired?”
Leaning her head against the headrest, she faced him, smiling. “Exhausted, but I had a great time. There’s a certain peace about Annette. I like her.”
“You would,” he said sarcastically. “Let’s get these rascals back to your house and in bed. I want us to talk for a few minutes.”
“Tonight?” Cheney’s voice slurred.
“Yeah, tonight. I need to explain about those women earlier.”
“No need. I knew you were a certified player.”
“I’m simply a good man who has been looking for a good woman who fit the profile.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Cheney’s eyelids drooped. She had taken in three kids and had a reason to be worn out. “Okay, another night, but I want you to go straight to bed, Miss Reynolds.”
Mouthing okay, she slowly closed her eyes.
Parke rubbed his thumb against her soft hand. She was beautiful. He turned his attention back to the highway and drove his sleeping cargo to Benton Street.
Around ten-thirty, Parke entered his quiet house, showered, and prepared for bed. He was knocked out as soon as his head hit the pillow. When the phone startled him out of his sleep, Parke hunted for his cordless and pushed Talk, “Yeah.”
“Sorry to wake you,” Cheney’s drowsy voice apologized.
Alarmed, Parke shot up in bed. “Please tell me nothing’s the matter.”
“Well, the on-call placement coordinator called. She’s bringing me a seven-year-old girl who’s the victim of neglect.”
“What?” Parke jumped out of bed, searching for his clothes. “I forbid it! You have enough kids.” He was furious, buttoning his shirt and missing holes. “I’m on my—”
Softly sobbing into the phone, Cheney mumbled, “I thought I was doing the right thing. I can’t turn any child away, but this is too much. Maybe this wasn’t God.”
“Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m on my way.” He disconnected, stressed. “This is not the answer and it’s going to stop, now, tonight.”
When Parke turned the corner, he realized he was only wearing one sock. Too bad, he wasn’t turning back. He stormed on Cheney’s porch moments before the social worker who was toting a little girl who looked like she hadn’t eaten a meal in weeks.
“I’m sorry for the confusion, but Cheney is about to break. She’s an excellent foster mother. However, she can’t handle any more emergency cases right now. Please find another home for this child tonight. I’m sorry.”
The social worker nodded. “I understand, but Miss Reynolds agreed. I’d hoped I could place this little one with foster parents instead of putting her in our residential home,” she explained, then returned to her car with the child.
Taking a deep, satisfying breath, Parke opened the door to find Cheney curled up on her sofa, dozing. He lifted her head, sat down, then replaced her head on his lap.
“Where is she?” Cheney asked, yawning.
“She’s going somewhere else tonight.” He paused. “Cheney?”
“Hmmm?”
“I love you, and I think you’re a special lady, but after three foster kids, I don’t think I’ll mind if it’s just you and me.”
Her lids fluttered opened. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, let me spoil you, pamper
you, and love you. Make you my priority.”
“You have to give up too much for me.”
Bending down, he brushed a kiss against her cheek. “Not more than what you’ve given up. You’re worth it, baby.”
“I guess it’s time for me to admit defeat. I thought the foster kids would help ease the guilt clinging to my insides, but it’s still there.” Cheney whimpered. “I’m becoming too attached to a temporary happiness. Maybe this wasn’t a sign from God.”
His eyes also watered. After weeks with Kami, Parke was attached, too. They only had one more week together. He hoped Annette was really praying for them because Cheney was searching for something he didn’t know how to give her.
Cheney sat up and looked him over. “Parke?”
“Yeah, baby?” he snuggled her closer.
“You only have on one sock.”
“I know.” One sock and a half of a brain for letting her do this foster parenting thing.
Chapter Thirty
The call came unexpectedly. Wilma Applewhite normally communicated with Cheney. So why was she calling Parke.
“I’m sorry to bother you on a Sunday morning, but it just hit me,” Wilma announced with just enough of frantic in her voice to cause panic.
“What?” Parke had the strangest feeling this wasn’t good news concerning Kami.
“There was a child by the same name as yours in our foster care system.”
“Was?” His voice faded as if his last breath escaped. He lowered to the bed, but nearly missed it. Confused, he wondered if someone had moved his bed. “Are you sure?”
“I’m pretty sure, but I’ll check the records once I get into my office tomorrow. I don’t know where the child is now or if he’s been adopted, or is still in our system.”
Closing his eyes, Parke didn’t know how to respond. Did he have a son out there? Uncertainty battled with joy and fear. In the end confusion reared its head. Maybe the vision he saw wasn’t about enduring an abortion. Maybe it was about a child he didn’t know existed, a first born son, his only son. “You’ll let me know for certain?”
