Sins of the Mother (17 page)

Then her office door opened. And Brian walked in.

They stared at each other for a moment before Alexis simply said, “Gotta go, Kyla.” She added, “Business,” so that Kyla wouldn’t call her back.

Even after she hung up, Alexis didn’t move. She stayed in place, studying Brian.

The look on his face forced her to ask, “What’s wrong?”

There was nothing close to a swagger in his steps as he moved slowly toward her. Taking her hand, he pulled her up from the chair and into his arms.

Alexis went along with him. She stayed within his embrace, feeling that their time for holding each other like this was coming to an end. That was why she didn’t pull back right away.

But when he did, his voice was soft. “I’m sorry about . . . this morning. It was just . . . I got . . .”

“That call,” she finished for him.

He nodded. “I didn’t want to tell you, but I promised myself, there would be no more lies, no more secrets between us.”

She breathed, a bit relieved, though she was still nervous about what he had to say.

“The call,” Brian continued, “was from New York. The FBI.”

Her deepening frown made him tell the story quickly. She could feel the changing expressions on her face—from shock to horror and then suddenly to suspicion. When he finished, she asked, “Brian, you don’t think . . .” She paused, not even able to imagine what she was about to say. But this was Jasmine’s daughter, after all. So she asked, “You don’t think Jasmine had anything to do with this, do you?”

Now it was his expression that metamorphosed from confusion to shock and then to something Alexis couldn’t decipher—disappointment, maybe.

He frowned. “No! She didn’t . . . how could you . . . why would you even think that?”

She shook her head, not wanting to go through the long list of reasons, beginning with Jasmine’s being a liar and a cheat. She held up her hands. “I’m sorry.” She paused and directed the conversation back to the child. “How long has Jacqueline been missing?”

“Since Friday.”

“Wow!” Alexis tried to imagine what that would be like, not having your child for four days. In that moment, she felt compassion for her enemy.

He said, “I’m just afraid the longer . . .” He stopped, but in her mind Alexis finished the sentence for him.

The longer she’s gone, the less of a chance of her coming home.

She turned toward the couch. “So what are they doing to find her?”

Brian shrugged as he lowered himself next to her. He sat close, so close that their knees touched. She wanted to back away but didn’t.

“I don’t know exactly,” Brian said. “I didn’t get to ask a lot of questions.”

The sadness in his voice made her take his hand. “I wish you had told me this morning.”

He looked down to where their fingers were entwined. Kept his gaze there as he said, “I wanted to, but I was shocked. I needed some time to think it through.” He looked up and into her eyes. “And truthfully, I was afraid. Not just for Jacquie. I was thinking about us.”

She frowned.

“Alex, I don’t know. I don’t understand the draw. I don’t have any kind of a relationship with her, but”—he sucked in air—“I have to go. To New York. I have to see what I can do.”

It took Alexis a moment to understand what he had said, what he meant. Then, slowly, she slipped her hand away from his and inched away, putting space between them. She found the right words to say. “Of course. You have to go. Definitely.” A big breath before the finale. “She’s your daughter.”

His eyes searched her face as if he wanted to see if her words were the truth. “I don’t know what I can do,” Brian explained. “But . . .”

She nodded and inhaled before she asked, “Have you . . . spoken to . . . Jasmine?”

He shook his head. “No, I didn’t call her or Hosea,” he said, as if he wanted to remind Alexis that Jasmine had a husband. “I’m not even sure if I’ll contact them when I get to New York. I’m not sure what I’ll do. It’s not like I think I’ll really be able to help.” He paused. “I just have to be there,” he said, before
he took Alexis’s hand back into his. “I’ll be gone for only a couple of days, Alex. I’ll go, find out what’s happening. And really, prayerfully, maybe she’ll be home before my plane even lands in New York.”

“That would be wonderful,” she said, even though she drew away from him again.

He watched her slide across the couch. She’d moved only inches, but it felt like miles. “I don’t want to lose you again, Alexis.”

She stood, walked to the window, putting even more distance between them.

He said, “Can you . . . can we just put what we started on hold until I come back?”

It took an effort to face him, but she did. She knew that there was only one word he wanted to hear, but she didn’t have “yes” anywhere inside of her. What she did have was, “You shouldn’t even be thinking about us right now. Just go to New York.” She lowered her eyes; she had to before she added, “Go to Jasmine.”

Time moved on, and when she lifted her eyes, they were already filled with tears. Brian moved across the office toward her, slowly, as if he knew he had to savor these last moments. He held her, and she hugged him back, knowing this time would be their last.

She closed her eyes when he kissed her forehead. Nodded when he said, “I’ll call you,” and just stayed in place, even minutes after he’d left her alone.

At least, this time, there would be no temptation to follow him. No risk of falling into bed again. No chance of rekindling their love. Because if Jasmine was in his life, in any capacity, there was no room for her.

This time, Alexis was sure. This time, it was over.

N
EW
Y
ORK
, N
EW
Y
ORK

D
ECEMBER
2009

I
T WAS THE SAME DREAM
.

Jasmine snuggled deeper into her pillow as the blurred edges of the vision faded and the image became clear.

Brian.

At first, she saw only his face, wearing the smile that had lured her all those years ago. Slowly, he stepped closer, and as he did, she could see more: his neck, his chest, and, finally, his hand holding on to their daughter.

“Here she is, Jasmine,” he said. “I brought our little girl home.”

She ran in slow motion, her arms propelling her forward until she reached them. First, she grabbed Jacqueline. Lifted her and swung her around before she drowned her in kisses. And then, she turned to Brian. “Thank you,” she whispered, before their lips met in a soft and gentle bond. The kiss of everlasting lovers.

Her moan was long and deep, and in her sleep, Jasmine stretched. Her eyes fluttered, then slowly opened. And the first thing she saw was the picture of Jacqueline. She’d moved her school photo from the living room into the bedroom.

It had been a dream, the same one she’d had over and over for the last forty-eight hours, ever since Detective Cohen had told them about Brian.

She’d been so sure when the detective had said Brian’s name that Jacqueline was safe. But when she’d asked, “When can I see my daughter?” the detective had shaken his head and held up his hands.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Bush, but according to the agents, Doctor Lewis doesn’t know where your daughter is.”

It felt like she’d been punched in the gut, the way the hope (that had been there for only a moment) was sucked right out of her. She’d collapsed, feeling like she’d lost Jacqueline all over again.

Then things got worse. The next day, Dale told them that while Hosea had passed the polygraph, Jasmine’s results were not as clear.

“It’s a bit confusing,” Dale had said, his eyebrows bunched together. “They found deception in even your baseline questions. But like I said, these things are not one hundred percent.”

“So what does that mean?” Hosea had asked.

“Of course they’re out there full force looking for Jacquie, but since Jasmine can’t be ruled out, they’ll probably have more questions for the two of you.”

He spoke to both of them, but Jasmine knew this nightmare was all about her. How could the polygraph not show her complete innocence? It felt like the world was spinning against her; nothing was the way it was supposed to be.

At least she had Hosea and Zaya. Hosea kept her strong; Zaya kept her sane. Without the two of them, she would have already given up.

Jasmine lifted her head a bit to peek at her son in the crib just a few feet away. Yesterday, Hosea had said that he needed sleep and that he couldn’t get it with the toddler in their bed. But Jasmine had no intention of letting Zaya too far from her sight. So she’d rolled his crib into their bedroom and hadn’t closed her eyes for more than fifteen minutes at a time since.

Jasmine pushed herself up, trying to see Zaya. She sprang up, dashed to his bed, drew back the blanket, and released a toe-curling scream.

“Zaya!”

A new someone—or maybe it was the same someone—had snuck into their bedroom and taken her son, too!

“Zaya!” she cried again.

“Ms. Jasmine, Ms. Jasmine.” Mrs. Sloss rushed into the bedroom. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice as frantic as Jasmine’s.

“Zaya! My baby. He’s gone!”

“No, Ms. Jasmine.” The nanny shook her head wildly. “He woke up.” She spoke so quickly, her English sounded more like Spanish. “And I took him. Didn’t want to disturb you.”

Distress had deafened her. Jasmine cried, “Zaya,” as she leaned on the crib for strength. She closed her eyes and trembled; there was no way she could live now.

Then she heard his giggles.

“See, Ms. Jasmine.” Mrs. Sloss rocked Zaya in her arms. “He’s fine. He was—”

Before she could finish, Jasmine snatched her son from the woman’s arms. “Don’t you ever take him away from me again!”
Jasmine screamed, not noticing that Zaya’s giggles had stopped or that her son now looked at her with wide eyes and a trembling lower lip.

“Love Mama,” he whispered.

But neither Mrs. Sloss nor Jasmine heard him.

The nanny said, “Ms. Jasmine, I was only trying to—”

“I don’t care what you were trying to do. Never take him out of this room! Not unless I tell you to.”

Now Zaya was screaming as loud as his mother.

“What’s going on?” Hosea rushed into the bedroom.

Jasmine pointed an accusing finger toward Mrs. Sloss. “She took my baby!”

“No, no,” was all Mrs. Sloss said.

“Yes, you did.” Jasmine’s voice had quieted a bit, but not Zaya’s.

Hosea coaxed Mrs. Sloss out of the room before he turned to his wife. “Calm down, sweetheart.” He placed his hands on Jasmine’s shoulders. “You’re upsetting Zaya.”

“I don’t care! I’m keeping him safe,” she screamed.

“Jasmine,” Hosea whispered. “Jasmine,” he kept saying over and over, softly and soothingly, until her cries—and Zaya’s—began to subside.

When she finally sat down on the bed, Hosea said, “Let me take him.”

It still took a bit more persuading for Jasmine to open her arms and hand her son to his father. Her eyes stayed with the pair as Hosea backed away from her. At the door, he said, “I’m just going to take him to his room.” Before she could protest, he added, “He’s going to be right down the hall. I’m here, you’re here, Mrs. Sloss is here. He’s safe.”

Then they were gone.

The only way she could stay and not run after Hosea was by taking deep breaths—in and out. But really, how did she
know that Zaya would be safe? Hadn’t she thought Jacqueline was safe when she had been taken?

Her tears began all over again.

Hosea returned and held her as she cried. “What are we going to do?” Jasmine asked her husband. “I can’t go on like this. I can’t go on without Jacquie.”

“I know,” Hosea said, pulling her closer. “But we have to keep it together. We have to take care of Zaya while we look for Jacquie.”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Jasmine shrugged away from his hold. “That’s why I didn’t want him to leave—”

Hosea shook his head. “No, sweetheart. We have to take care of him, not make him a prisoner. You haven’t let him out of this house in a week.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. I’m just doing what I have to do. What do you want from me?”

“I want Zaya’s life to be as normal as possible. He has to sense the tension, but I want him to feel safe and loved like he felt before . . . before this happened.”

“That’s impossible,” Jasmine said, anger replacing her sadness for the moment. “None of us will ever be normal again. Not until we find Jacquie.”

“I understand what you’re saying—for you and me. But for Zaya . . . come on, Jasmine. He’s going to be fine, but not if we don’t find a way to give him his life back.”

She understood what Hosea meant, but she didn’t know how to make things normal with her son when life was so abnormal without her daughter.

She paced in front of him. “I’m scared, Hosea,” she said. “Tomorrow will be a week, and . . .” Her head bowed with fresh tears. She had no idea how she’d survived these days, but she was certain that she wouldn’t be able to survive many more.

He said, “We have to think about Zaya.”

“And forget about Jacquie?” she asked, amazed at his words.

“Of course not. It’s just that we’re responsible for Zaya, too.”

Jasmine shook her head. Hosea may have been listening, but he wasn’t hearing her. Didn’t he realize that everything she was doing now, she was doing for Zaya?

Hosea said, “I need you to do something for me.” Her eyes questioned him. “Get dressed. I want to show you something I’ve been working on.”

Days had passed since she had last left the apartment, and her intention, really, was never to again leave.

But then Hosea added, “This is about Jacquie,” and she couldn’t get dressed fast enough. She would go anywhere, do anything, at just the mention of Jacqueline’s name.

It was hard enough thinking about Jacqueline. Wondering if she was scared, if she was cold, if she was calling for her mama and her dad.

Now Jasmine had to worry about Zaya, too. She couldn’t believe that she’d let Hosea convince her to leave their son at home. He kept saying that Zaya would be safe inside the secure building, behind the locked apartment door, with Mrs. Sloss watching him every second.