Forged by Fire (6 page)

Angel glanced at Gerald. She looked at first relieved, then confused and embarrassed. She leaped from Jordan's lap and ran blindly to her bed. She put the covers over her head and trembled uncontrollably. Jordan, angry that he had been interrupted, slapped Gerald full in the face. “Get out!” he roared. “I'm sick of lookin' at you! You and your mama and your stupid sister all make me sick!”

Gerald said nothing for a moment, but stared at Jordan with hatred and pain. His hands, clenched into tight, angry fists, threatened at any moment to explode with purple rage into Jordan's face. But he didn't want to give Jordan the satisfaction of knowing that he had hurt him, and he didn't want to endanger Angel. Jordan started to hit Gerald again, but the fire in the boy's eyes made him stop. Instead, he grabbed his coat suddenly and ran out.

Gerald went over to where Angel was still trembling beneath the covers and said gently, “Did he hurt you, Angel?”

She peeked out. “Is he gone?”

“Yes, probably to the bar on the corner. He's gone. Did he hurt you?” Gerald repeated.

“No, Gerald, he didn't hurt me, but he scares me so bad. Don't be late like that again, please.” Her eyes were dark with fear.

“I won't let him hurt you, Angel,” swore Gerald. “Guess what?” he said, trying to cheer her up. “I found us a Christmas tree. The man at the market said he'd give it to me. It's just a little one, but it's just right for me and you. Tomorrow, you can come with me to get it.”

“What about Jordan?” asked Angel fearfully.

“Don't you worry 'bout Jordan,” Gerald told Angel. His voice was tight and tense. “You got me now, you hear?”

Angel relaxed a bit, then took Gerald's strong hands into her small ones. She looked up at him, smiled, and replied softly, “I know you ain't happy here, Gerald. And I know that missin' Aunt Queen makes you feel cold and frozen. I know, 'cause even in Atlanta, I was always cold on the inside—always cold. But since you've been around, I finally feel like sunshine.”

Gerald smiled at her, and said gently, “Merry Christmas, Sunshine.”

G
ERALD AWOKE ON
Christmas morning thinking of Aunt Queen. Last year, she had stayed up all night, cooking the turkey, wrapping surprises and hiding them all over the house for Gerald to find. He sighed as he thought of how much his life had changed in just one year. Today, no smells of dressing and sauce and pie drifted to his room—only the strong silent smell of fear and secrets.

Gerald tried not to think about the past or even the future. He survived each day by dealing with necessities—going to school, looking out for Angel, and hating Jordan Sparks. Jordan was mean—he smacked Gerald on the back of his head if he got a C on his report card, he punched him on his arm if he spilled the milk, and he whacked him on his legs for not bringing him a beer fast enough. When Monique tried to speak up, he only laughed and said, “Shut up, woman! I'm gonna make that stupid boy of yours a man!” Gerald had learned to dodge and duck, but he wasn't always fast enough.

He couldn't understand why Monique stayed with
Jordan. He had asked her once, and her answer was more frightening than the question. It was the Friday before school started. Monique was laughing and dancing to a new song on the radio with Angel. Jordan wasn't home.

Angel looked relaxed and happier than he had seen her in a long time. She was a natural dancer—her petite frame and her long, graceful limbs made her movements seem as if they melted into the music.

Monique collapsed, laughing, onto the couch next to Gerald as the fast song ended and was replaced by a slow, haunting melody. Angel had forgotten their presence, and was moving, eyes closed, to the sweet rhythm of the song. Gerald glanced at Angel, and then at Monique.

“This is the first time I've seen Angel so happy, Monique.” (He still couldn't bring himself to call her Mama again.) “She's always so nervous and scared around Jordan.”

“Jordan loves that child, Gerald,” replied Monique defensively. “Do you know he goes to her room every single night when he gets home just to tuck her in and kiss her good night? Even if she's asleep, he goes in there and spends a few minutes with her. I can't figure out why she acts so scared and stupid all the time when he's around. It gets on my nerves!”

“Aren't you scared of him too, Monique?”

“No, baby, that ain't fear—that's respect. He's a man and I'm a woman. He's stronger and tougher and he takes care of me. It's okay if he gets a little rough sometimes.
That's just to show me who's boss, and to show me he loves me.”

Gerald, who had grown up with the strength and toughness of Aunt Queen, didn't think that Monique made much sense. He knew he should leave it alone, but he had to ask. “Monique, why don't we just leave Jordan? Me and you and Angel could be real happy—and we wouldn't have to be scared anymore.”

Monique, eyes flashing, mood destroyed, turned on Gerald. “You shut up with that kind of talk, you hear! Jordan took you in and buys you food and clothes and tries to be a good father to you and Angel! You better learn some respect, boy! Who you think you are?” She had stormed out of the room then, ripping the radio out of the socket, abruptly stopping Angel's dance.

That was the last time he had tried to talk to Monique about anything more complicated than homework or shoes or mashed potatoes. Angel was right—he felt cold inside. And on this Christmas morning, he felt cold outside as well. He slipped out of bed and shivered as his feet touched the cold floor, then he tiptoed to the window and saw that it had snowed. He smiled in spite of himself. Aunt Queen had loved snow on Christmas morning. The rest of the year she had no patience with it—but Christmas snow was magic snow, she always said.

Gerald wanted to show Angel. It didn't snow much in Atlanta, and she had never seen a fresh Christmas snowfall. He opened his door and was surprised to see Jordan
leaving the small room near the kitchen where Angel slept. Jordan didn't see Gerald—he just slipped into the room that he and Monique shared and closed the door quietly.

Gerald, fearful of what he might find, refusing to even imagine what he had discovered, raced across the cold floor and opened Angel's door. Her bed was empty. Huddled in a corner, shivering in her thin nightgown, clinging to an old doll's blanket, Angel was crying silently.

She looked up in fear when Gerald entered, and backed farther into the corner. “No!” she whispered. When she saw it was Gerald, she cried even harder.

“It's freezing in here, Angel,” said Gerald gently as he pulled the blanket off the bed and put it around her. He didn't ask her any questions. He handed her a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, and some socks from the box where Monique kept Angel's clothes. She dressed quietly and quickly and followed him to the front room where the small, thin tree stood decorated on the coffee table. With the blanket wrapped around both of them, they sat on the sofa in the darkness of that Christmas morning, silent and sorrowful.

Finally Gerald spoke. “It snowed last night. Come look.”

Angel looked with wonder at the sparkling snow. “Everything looks so
clean!
It's like all the bad stuff is covered up with shiny stuff,” she said, barely smiling.

“Aunt Queen used to say that Christmas snow was magic snow,” Gerald told her. “Make a wish, Angel.”

Angel squeezed her eyes tightly, held her breath, and whispered softly, “Please! Please! Please! Please! Please!”

“Angel,” Gerald said, gently interrupting her, “we gotta get help. We gotta tell somebody. We can't let him bother you anymore!”

“No!” she almost screamed. “He'll hurt Mama. He'll hurt you. He'll hurt me bad! He told me and I believe him. It's not so bad. He just... he just. . . talks to me.”

“I'm gonna tell, Angel,” Gerald insisted. “I gotta tell somebody.”

“Please don't, Gerald. If you do, I'll run away and hide in the snow. I'll say you're bad and you made it up!” Angel was almost hysterical.

“Okay, okay! Calm down. I won't say anything now, but I want you to sleep in my room. You can sleep in the other twin bed. We'll tell Monique that you're scared of the dark.”

“She won't care,” replied Angel, “but Jordan will be real mad.”

“I have an idea!” said Gerald suddenly. “But we have to work fast.”

Gerald ran to the area under the sink where Jordan kept his tools. He grabbed a screwdriver and a wrench and ran to Angel's room. Swiftly he wriggled under the bed. Mystified, Angel heard the sound of the tools on the metal frame of the small bed. Gerald emerged, grinning. In his hand were six screws and two bolts. He tossed them into his pocket and hurriedly replaced Jordan's tools just as Monique and Jordan emerged from their bedroom.

“I'll tell you later,” he whispered to Angel with a grin.

Monique smiled sleepily and said, “Merry Christmas, my babies. Did you see the snow?”

Angel gave Gerald one quick look. It was a pleading one. He sighed and shook his head just a bit to show her he would not tell—at least not yet, he thought. Angel smiled sweetly at Monique. “Merry Christmas, Mama! It's magic snow. Gerald told me so.”

Gerald glanced at Jordan, who seemed to be relaxed and enjoying the snow. Jordan looked at Angel and, in that gravelly voice that Gerald hated, said to her, “I got you a Christmas present, Angel.”

Angel looked surprised. Jordan had never bought her anything special, not even on her birthday. Monique scurried back into the bedroom, brought out the box that the last pair of Jordan's new shoes had come in and handed it to Angel with a grin. “Here, baby. Open it. Quick!”

Gerald could hear scratching coming from within the box. Angel opened it, and out popped a tiny ball of tawny fur, which landed in her lap. “A kitten!” screamed Angel with delight. “I'm going to name her Tiger!”

Gerald was glad to see Angel smiling again. But he knew that this happiness would not last. He glanced at Jordan and Monique. Monique was watching the snow. Jordan was watching Angel.

W
HEN JORDAN FOUND
out that Angel's bed was broken, he was angry and tried to fix it. But Jordan had no skill at fixing and repairing and he quickly gave up the task with a curse and a kick to the bed. He then tried to move Gerald's extra bed to Angel's room, but it wouldn't fit in the small corner room where she slept, so he gave up, swearing he would buy a new bed as soon as he got a little cash. Gerald and Angel giggled at Jordan behind his back, and Angel moved to the other twin bed in Gerald's room.

Angel was happy with Tiger the kitten and the safe sleeping arrangements. Gerald would read to her late at night, trying to remember the poems and stories that Aunt Queen had read to him. Sometimes they would hear Jordan coming in late from his job. His boots were always loud on the bare floor, but he never came into the room.

He still smacked Gerald around whenever he got the chance, but not as frequently as he used to. He had a new job which he liked, and was getting paid every week.
Monique was like a little butterfly. She fluttered around the house, trying to make sure Jordan was happy. Gerald wondered when Monique ever got a chance to be happy herself, or if she even thought about it. But he never asked.

She couldn't cook very well, so they ate a lot of fast food. Gerald missed Aunt Queen's home-cooked meals. He missed her home-cooked loving even more.

Tiger loved french fries. She would jump up on the table and eat them right out of the bag. However, she knew to stay away from Jordan, who would knock her off the table with a sweep of his arm, or kick her if she got in his way. Angel would grab the cat and hug her until she stopped shaking and began to purr again. She dressed the cat up in doll clothes, pulled her along the floor in a box, and even decorated her tail with ribbons. Tiger allowed it all without complaint, snuggling each night at the foot of Angel's bed.

When Angel got chicken pox, Tiger seemed to be pleased to have Angel home from school each day. Monique took two days off from work, mostly to watch the soaps, but she did open a can of chicken soup each day and give it to Angel. Angel hated chicken soup, so Tiger had great lunches.

On the third day, Monique had to go back to work. Gerald had already left for school. Angel was still asleep.

“I'll watch her,” Jordan growled carelessly.

“What about your job?” Monique inquired hesitantly.

“Don't you worry about my job, woman! You just do
yours! I said I'd watch the kid and that's what I'm gonna do! Now get to work!” Monique hurried out the door.

“She loves chicken soup!” she called to Jordan as she left.

When Angel woke up, she felt for the warm lump in the blanket called Tiger. The cat was gone. Angel felt itchy, but not as sick as at first. She hoped Mama had fixed peanut butter today. She was sick of soup.

Angel got up, went to the bathroom, and tried not to scratch her spots. “Tiger?” she called.
Where could she be hiding?
Angel thought.

Still concentrating on finding the cat, Angel didn't see Jordan until it was too late. He was sitting on her bed. She gasped and tried to run from the room, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her fiercely next to him.

“No, please, no, Jordan,” she begged. “Please don't. Oh, please don't.”

“Relax, girl. I ain't gonna hurt you. I just want to talk to you, to see how you feel.”

“I feel fine, Jordan. Now leave me alone! Please!”

“Now you just let me
see
how well you feel. How's that rash? Hold up your shirt and let me see.”

“No, Jordan! I don't want you to look at my rash. No!”

“I'm your daddy, girl. I'll look at your rash if I want to! How can I tell if you're getting better? Now take off that shirt!” Angel tearfully removed her T-shirt while Jordan watched. Her rash was very mild and the spots were already beginning to fade. He touched her back, and she tensed at the roughness of his fingers.