Seeking Help
He timed his arrival to be while she would be working alone. She wouldn't be able to leave her post.
Her eyes filled with anger when she saw him. She seethed.
"Angel, I have to talk to you."
"We have nothing to talk about."
"I need help. Please."
"That's rich. You appear after all this time, and you want help." Her voice was low, hostile.
"Angel, I'm desperate. Give me half an hour, please. I'll explain everything."
She leaned back in her swivel chair and fixed her glare on him. "Coffee shop, one hour. You can have fifteen minutes."
She arrived promptly, still wearing her baleful stare. "This had better be good."
"Please, you're going to have trouble believing this. I didn't, even when it was happening to me. You have to listen to me, I don't know what else I can do."
Angel's expression had softened slightly. Perhaps she was just weary of carrying her anger, or perhaps she sensed his anguish.
"I need to know what happened in the house," he continued. "I need you to persuade your mother to tell you what really went on there."
Angel seemed surprised by the apparent change of subject. "I'm sorry?"
"The house. There's something there."
"Something . . . You mean it is haunted?" She sounded skeptical.
"I don't know. I just . . . I can't control myself there."
"Can't control what?"
"God, I don't even want to say, you're going to get up and walk out. You won't understand." He paused. She didn't contradict him, but he had to say it. "Sex. I haven't any restraint. It won't let me. You've felt it," he added as her face grew angry again. "You said as much. Think about it for a moment."
She frowned, but grew calmer. "Yeah," she said. "Maybe there was something. But that's crazy."
"I know it's crazy," responded Michael. "I told myself it was crazy for so long. I told myself I was just weak. I told myself I didn't deserve you, and I believed it. I couldn't see you, because I couldn't tell you what I was doing."
"How many were there?" she asked.
"I don't really think you want to know."
Now she seemed more hurt than angry. "I was just one of the collection?"
"No," he said emphatically, "no. Don't think that. I think if it hadn't been for the house, we would have taken things more slowly, but I'd like to believe we would have gotten there eventually. Now, how can I know what I would have felt for you, or what you would feel for me? I've really destroyed whatever chance we had."
"This is crazy," Angel repeated. "This is really crazy. What's even more crazy, though, is that I think I believe you."
"Listen," said Michael, "you know me by now. I almost screwed a sixteen-year-old girl. I've never done anything more difficult in my life than pushing her away. Can you imagine that of me?"
Angel pursed her lips, then slowly shook her head.
"And there's a certain church where I will never be made welcome."
Her eyes widened, then she grinned as she began to see the funny side. "Oh, no."
He nodded, and grinned ruefully. "The pastor's wife, no less."
She shook her head again, with amusement this time. Then she turned serious.
"I'll talk to my mother."
"Thanks. I still don't know what I will do, but perhaps she can help me to understand what is going on. And it's good to have someone to tell. I appreciate you letting me see you, after the way I've treated you."
"If what you're saying is even close to correct, it doesn't sound like you had much choice in the matter."
"I did," he argued. "I could have told you earlier. I could have avoided some situations." He considered mentioning the few encounters he had deliberately brought about, but decided that she had enough to deal with. They both did.
"What about us?" asked Angel.
He lowered his head. "I don't know. I'd like to think, if I can get through this, that we could . . ."
She reached out and took his hand. "I'd like to think so too. You've given me a lot to think through, and I'm not sure how I'll feel when it's all over. I'll tell you something, though. Your haunted house may have been responsible for some of our passion, but I don't regret anything that we did." She squeezed his hand, then dropped it, and stood to leave. "This time, call me."
"I will," he promised, his voice weak.