Donnie said no. "No, my dad respects Clay and, in his own way, he loves him. Benita is happy, which is all that matters to him. And she and Clay have some beautiful kids, so that makes him happy, too. My father used to be really possessive of Benita; she was his oldest and his only girl. Clay had to let him know what time it was and Pop had to deal with it."
He continued to hold her closely and nuzzle her cheek and neck as he spoke. "My nieces and nephews all love you. You're wonderful," he whispered and kissed her forehead, her cheeks and her chin.
"So I moved to Michigan about eight months ago. Why did I come here?" She sat up a little so she could better see his face. "Was it because I missed you so much and wanted to be with you?"
Donnie smiled at the eagerness in her voice. "Your cousin Paris Deveraux is doing an internship with our company because we're partnered and all our executives train with both companies. So she's up here now. And the man you were working for, Alan Jandrewski, moved back home to Detroit and you came with him. You and Paris were sharing a house before we got married," he told her.
Something about the way he said A.J.'s name made Angelique ask if she and this man had been involved. "No," Donnie said emphatically. "You're just good friends."
The familiar yearning for her took over him once again, engulfing his body in fiery sensation. He wanted her so bad, it was a physical ache, but he forced himself to behave. They couldn't continue to hug and kiss like this if he was to keep the promise he made to himself not to touch her until her amnesia was gone. As if a brilliant idea had just occurred to him, he said, "Hey, we'd better call your cousin Paris and let her know what happened to you."
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 agreed 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. Dyslexia 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 him 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.