A Merry Little Christmas (26 page)

He gently placed her on the sofa and reached for the cordless phone on the coffee table. When he didn’t get a dial tone, he raised an eyebrow. “I wonder if the lines are down. I’d better go check.” He left the room and came back shortly, reporting that all the phones were dead. “So it’s cell phones or nothing.”

Angelique nodded and patted the seat next to her on the sofa. “Well, so much for that. Come sit down and let’s talk some more,” she said in the seductive voice that was beginning to drive him nuts every time her heard it.

“Better idea: let’s watch TV and find out what’s happening with the storm.” He picked up the remote and pointed it at the big flat-screen TV and tossed her the
TV Guide.

“Let’s watch a movie instead,” Angelique said.
“Something hot and sexy.
I’ll read the listings to you.” She opened the book and started to read out loud. She read slowly and haltingly, hesitating over each syllable and stumbling like she couldn’t see the words. She stopped and rubbed her hand across her eyes. “Wow. I must have hit my head harder than I thought.”

Donnie was staring at her with concern in his eyes. “Well, the print’s really small in that. Here, try this,” he said, handing her an
Ebony
magazine.

She smiled her thanks and tossed the offending
Guide
aside. “This is better,” she a
greed and started reading again
with the same results. This time her face puckered in concern and she stared helplessly at Donnie. “I think I’m going to go lie down for a while. My eyes are really bothering me, I guess.”

Donnie agreed that a nap would be the best thing and he waited until she disappeared down the hall. He picked up his cell phone and hit the speed dial for Paris’s cell and was relieved when she answered.

“Paris? This is Donnie and I wanted you to know that Angelique had a little accident last night. No, no, she’s fine, I think. She got bopped in the head with a hockey puck at Joe Louis Arena and she doesn’t really remember anything but the doctor says that it’s fairly normal in these cases. No, she’s not freaking
out,
she’s having a ball, actually. I just wanted to let you know what was going on.”

After her chatty response, Donnie asked her the question that was uppermost in his mind “Paris, Angel tried to read something out loud and it was... well, it was like she couldn’t read
very well. Do you know anything about that?” Paris was silent for a long moment, a moment during which Donnie’s anxiety built
.
Finally she started to speak.

“Okay,
pal,
it’s time you knew this. Are you sitting down? If you aren’t
,
get a seat
because
this’ll take a minute.” In a short time she’d told him everything he needed to know.

When Donnie got off the phone, he sat on the sofa and stared straight ahead, his eyes focused on nothing. He was still trying to process the information he’d been given. Paris had told
him
of Angelique’s severe dyslexia and he was both humbled and amazed by what he’d heard. Some things were beginning to click into place like the cylinders in a combination lock; he was beginning to understand a lot more about his wife. Now he could understand why she’d had such a giant chip on her shoulder, why she’d been so angry so much of the time. Some of the things Paris told him had appalled him, like the part about Angelique being sent away to boarding school. Some things had amazed him, as he realized the extent of her ability to cope.

Paris had explained some of the things Angelique did to compensate for her reading ability. “Well, she’s very good with numbers, for one thing. But please, whatever you do, don’t call her
Rainman
. That’s what they used to call her in school and she doesn’t think it’s funny at all. She drives that Saab because it has
OnStar
, the system where your car talks to you. It gives her a lot more confidence driving because she knows she can call
OnStar
and get directions and roadside assistance and stuff.
She has trouble with directions
,
that’s
why she wears the silver bracelet on one arm and the gold one on the other, to help her remember right and left.” Her words left him stunned, but she had some advice for him, too.

“The thing is, Donnie, Angel is very intelligent, but deep down inside she really thinks she’s stupid. Dyslex
ia means she learns differently, that
her mind just works differently. Just try to imagine how your life would be if you couldn’t read very well. What kind of limitations would that put on you? But Angel always figures out a way to do something, she’s very determined and creative. Just don’t feel sorry for her or start treating her like she’s helpless, because she’s not. She’s unique.”

Donnie lost track of time as he thought about what Paris had told him. Angelique was truly one of a kind. His admiration for her grew even more profound as he considered the impact the dyslexia had on her life. Suddenly it dawned on
him
where he could get more information and he hit the speed dial for Warren’s number.

Warren answered the phone, sounding like he really didn’t want to be bothered. “What do you want, Cochran? I’m having a snow day with my sweetheart and it was very romantic until you called,” he complained.

“Sorry about that, man.” He rapidly explained about Angelique’s bump on the head and his subsequent discovery that she was dyslexic. “I just need some more information about it, Warren. I feel really stupid but I don’t know a whole lot about dyslexia.”

Warren was not only a medical
doctor,
he was a Ph.D. and head of the department of
neurolinguistics
in the College of Medicine at Wayne State University. His department
specialized in the branch of linguistics that studied the relationship between language and the various functions of the nervous system. Developing teaching methodologies for learning disabilities like dyslexia was a part of that. Warren listened to Donnie’s concerns and told him he could get him some information. “As soon as the weather lets up we’ll get together and talk. In the meantime, you be good to Angel. I told you she was special and this proves it.”

“Thanks for the information, Warren. And don’t worry about Angel and me. I know how special she is and I plan to let her know, too.”

Warren pressed the
end
button on his cell phone and rejoined Lisette in her cozy kitchen. When he had attempted to leave the night before, she had insisted he stay, due to the terrible weather. And he had agreed as long as he stayed in her guest room, to her great disappointment. He stood in the doorway a moment and watched her work. She was
making
hi
m a special dish her mother made often
, a Senegalese dish called Chicken
Yassa
. She looked up from her work and gave him the radiant smile that never failed to make him melt inside.

“Hello, my darling. Have you come to watch me?”

He returned her smile and walked over to sit at the wooden table. “Honey, I never get tired of watching you, you know that. But I have to talk to you about something.” He told her what Donnie had related to him over the phone and waited for her response.

“Oh, poor Angel.
What a strange way for him to find out her deepest secret.” She sighed. “I knew about her dyslexia; she told me about it not too long after we met. She was so afraid he wouldn’t want her if he knew she was dyslexic. She really believes that it affects her intellect, not just her learning. I hope he has sense enough to treat her gently. If he were to make her feel bad because of this, I would... I would...”

Warren interrupted her tirade to assure her that Donnie would do no such thing. “He told me last night, before her accident, that he loves her. He wants her happiness above anything, Lisette. He’ll be good to her.”

Lisette’s eyes lit up and she left the counter and wrapped her arms around Warren’s neck, then sat down in his lap. “Oh, that’s wonderful.” She sighed. “Now they can be as happy as we are.”

“Maybe, but I don’t see how,” he replied as he bent his eager mouth to her willing lips.

When Angelique awoke, she felt odd. The pain in her head was almost gone and she felt refreshed but curiously disoriented. For some reason she was feeling uneasy and strange and she couldn’t figure out why. She looked around the room at the pictures she saw displayed and it suddenly hit her. She held up her left hand and stared at it. Everything was becoming clearer to her. She scooted up so her back was against the headboard and sat there deep in thought. That’s the way Donnie found her when he came to see how she was doing. He sat down on the side of the bed and looked at her troubled face.

“Hey, there.
You look deep in thought. What is it, Angel?” She returned his look of concern with a bleak expression. “We’re not really married are we?”

Donnie almost fell off the bed. “What do you mean, we’re not married? Of course we’re married.”

“I don’t have a ring. There aren’t any pictures of me anywhere in this room, much less anywhere in the house. And we haven’t made love at all. We’re newlyweds, so you say, but you never put your hands on me. I think you’re lying to me.”

Donnie moved from his position to sit closer to Angelique. He held his hand out to her and she placed hers in it in a gesture of trust. “I’m not lying to you, Angel. We really are married; I have the certificate if you’d like to see it I don’t have as many pictures of you as I should, but that’s your fault,” he teased her. “You only like to take
pictures,
you don’t like to be in them. But I do have a picture of you.” Reaching over to the small chest that served as a nightstand, he opened the top drawer and took out a framed photograph and handed it to her.

She made a soft sound of surprise as she looked at a picture of her in a fantastic tangerine-colored dress. She was smiling brilliantly and looked beautiful and happy, even to her own eye. “Where was this taken?”

“This was from your brother Marcus’s wedding. You were the maid of honor,” he told her. “And as for us not making love, baby, you’ve been in an accident. What kind of husband would I be if I was pawing all over you before you had a chance to recover?”

Angelique finally put the picture on the nightstand. She looked deeply into Donnie’s eyes. “So it’s not because you don’t want to make love? Are you sure? I thought you just didn’t think I was sexy or something.”

Donnie laughed out loud and grabbed Angelique, pulling her into his embrace and rolling over so that she was on top of him.
“You, not sexy?
Oh, my God, I’ve been putting ice down my pants and taking cold showers and sleeping on the couch, anything I can think of to keep my hands off you. I’ve been going out of my mind from wanting you, baby.”

Angelique felt better from hearing his heartfelt words, but she still had one question. “But where is my wedding ring? I don’t have an engagement ring, either. Why is that, Donnie?”

Donnie hesitated only briefly. The things he’d just told her weren’t whole truths, but they were more truth than fiction. He cared about her more than he thought possible and he just couldn’t stand to have her look so bereft. Making
himself
another promise to make everything right as soon as possible, he sat up and gently set her aside so he could retrieve something else from the drawer by his bed. He took out a Tiffany box and handed it to Angelique. “It has to be sized, which is why you don’t have it on. But here you are, my dear.”

She opened the box to find an ornate wedding ring set in platinum with a huge center stone and an elaborate wraparound band. “Wow. Put it on me, please,” she said eagerly. He did as she asked and slid the ring on the proper finger, and, as he’d said, it was several sizes too big.

“See why it’s still in the box? We’ll get it fixed as soon as possible. Do you want to keep it on? You could put it on a chain or something.”

Angelique shook her head and put the ring back in its box with no reluctance. “No, I can wait. It’s beautiful, Donnie, thank you very much,” she said but without the exuberance he would have expected. Just then Jordan and Pippen started barking like mad. Donnie laughed and said the snowplows must be out. “Let’s go see what that racket is all about, it could just be their way of telling me they’re hungry.”

At the mention of food Angelique commented that she was hungry, too. “Can we have some soup?” she asked. “Some of that soup with hamburger.”

Donnie was delighted. “I think you’re starting to re
member things. I made you hambur
ger soup not too long ago,” he told her. “Do you remember anything else?”

“I’m not sure,” she replied. “Who is Evie?”

Chapter Sixteen

The next morning Angelique awoke to the sounds of Detroit digging itself out of a record-breaking snowstorm. She was warm and comfortable, although a little bit unhappy that her husband wasn’t in the bed with her. But on the other hand, it was probably better that he was gone. Angelique had suddenly remembered everything, every single detail of her life and their life together. It was just like Dr. Feinstein said: after a couple of days, her memory had returned. She should have been elated but she wasn’t. She was both happy and sad, an odd reaction. She was happy because during the br
ief time that she’d had amnesia
Donnie had
been so loving
,
and caring,
just what she wanted from him. She was sad because she had no doubt that as soon as he knew her memory was back, they’d return to
their
farce of a marriage and she’d be sleeping in Siberia, aka the guest room, once again.