Sins of the Mother (19 page)

Alexis nodded. “I wondered the same thing. If this was one of Jasmine’s tricks, but with the police and the FBI involved . . . I don’t think so.” She sighed and repeated what Kyla had just said, “Not even Jasmine.”

Kyla said, “So Brian went to New York to help?”

Alexis didn’t say a word as she looked down at her paper plate. Even though they’d been talking for almost an hour, she’d taken only a single bite. She pushed her plate aside and the plastic legs of the chair scraped against the concrete as she shifted.

It was one of those eighty-degree December days when Los Angelenos came outside in droves while the rest of the country was under winter lockdown. But the high temperatures did little to warm Alexis, and as she thought of Brian and Jasmine and Jacqueline, she shivered. Finally, she said, “Yeah, that’s what he said. That he went to New York to help.”

Kyla leaned in close. “I know you’re not thinking that something’s up with Jasmine and Brian.”

Alexis shook her head. “No, not in
that
way.”

“Not in
any
way.” Kyla paused, waiting for Alexis to agree, but when she didn’t, Kyla continued. “I don’t get you sometimes. Brian loves you, and you love him. Why are you making everything so complicated?”

“I never said that I loved him.”

“You don’t have to.” Kyla waved her hand in the air, dismissing Alexis’s words. “It’s in what you do. You wouldn’t keep jumping into bed with him if you didn’t love the man.”

“Love has nothing to do with sex.”

“Maybe for other people, but we’re talking about you. And anyway, it’s not just the sex part. It’s all the other stuff that counts. Like what’s in your eyes whenever you talk about him.”

“You don’t see love,” Alexis insisted.

“You’re right, I see more than love. I see every emotion that ever existed when you talk about Brian. I see more than love—I see passion.”

“When did you become a romance novelist?” Alexis chuckled, but then she looked down, and then away, and then at the
next table. If what Kyla said was true, if her emotions shined in her eyes, she didn’t want her friend seeing into her soul right now. Because then Kyla would be able to see her sorrow. And she didn’t want anyone—not even her best friend—to see her weakness.

Kyla asked, “So why aren’t you in New York with Brian?”

“Because there’s no reason for me to be.”

“There’s no reason for you to support Brian?”

“No, there’s not. I’m not part of his life, especially not when it comes to this.”

Kyla’s eyes became slits, like she was deep in thought. “Are you staying away because of Jasmine?”

Alexis didn’t move. How could she tell Kyla that, yes, it was because of Jasmine? She could never say that aloud because it was ridiculous. It wasn’t like Jasmine had called Brian and said, Let’s get together. This was a heartbreaking situation that should have drawn everyone together.

But Alexis couldn’t help it—it bugged the mess out of her. No matter the reason, Brian had stopped his life, had made that cross-country trip . . . to be with Jasmine. It was absurd to be thinking this way; she knew that. But that’s what just the mention of Jasmine’s name did to her—it made her crazy.

As long as that woman was any part of any equation, it would never add up for her and Brian. She had worked hard to forgive Brian. But forgiving Brian
and
Jasmine? She didn’t have enough forgiveness inside of her for both of them.

“Don’t do this, Alex.” Kyla’s face was scrunched into a frown, as if she’d been studying her and had heard every word she’d thought. “Don’t let this situation destroy two families. Don’t let what’s happened to Jasmine and Hosea mess up your chances with Brian. If anything, he needs you way more now than before.”

Alexis was sure that God had put those words into Kyla’s
mouth; He had to have because those were the same sentiments He’d tried to engrave onto her heart every hour of last night. But she was about to tell Kyla what she’d told the Lord: there was no reason for her to be in New York with Brian because that would only make them look and feel like a couple. That would only give them hope, when there was no hope at all.

When Alexis stayed quiet, Kyla shook her head. “This makes me sad. All of it. That baby without her mother.” She raised her hand to her mouth, as if she was holding back a sob.

Alexis knew that Kyla was thinking about her own daughter, Nicole, who was a teenager now. And because Alexis knew the pain the mere thought caused Kyla, she could imagine Jasmine living this truth. Even though there wasn’t even a tiny part of her that liked Jasmine, Alexis couldn’t stop thinking about the little girl with Brian’s face. It made her heart ache.

Kyla said, “I just hope and pray that they find her.” She sighed. “This world . . . what is it coming to? God bless us all.” She locked her eyes on Alexis. “You really need to think about this,” she said, as if it was a command. “Brian needs you.”

“And he has me. Just like you, I’ll be praying for him.”

Kyla pressed her lips together like there was so much more she wanted to say, but instead she just rolled her eyes. Swinging her purse over her shoulder, she pushed back her chair. “Are you ready to go?” she asked, sounding like Alexis had gotten on every single nerve she had.

Alexis shrugged and followed Kyla through the maze of plastic white tables and chairs filled with lingering lunch patrons. She was not moved as Kyla stomped in front of her. Her friend would get over it. After all, Kyla should know that she was going to do the Christian thing—she was going to pray. It was prayers that Brian and Jacqueline needed now.

After she hugged Kyla good-bye, Alexis got into her car,
eased into the traffic, and said a prayer for Jacqueline, pleading with God to bring her home and to keep her safe in the meantime. As she turned onto Wilshire, she added Brian to the mix and prayed that God would give him peace with whatever happened.

When God placed Jasmine on her heart, Alexis didn’t say a word at first. But God wouldn’t go away. So she pulled her car to the curb. Turned off the engine, closed her eyes, and pondered the scripture that said we should love our enemies.

And once she let Matthew 5:44 settle on her heart, Alexis sent up a little prayer for Jasmine, too.

N
EW
Y
ORK
, N
EW
Y
ORK

D
ECEMBER
2009

A
WEEK
. A
ND THIS WAS
the first morning that the water wasn’t seasoned with Jasmine’s tears. She tilted her head beneath the shower’s spray and then did something that always brought pain—she closed her eyes.

Though today, she wasn’t afraid of the images that waited behind her lids. She knew for sure that all she would see would be happiness and glee. She’d see Jacqueline playing, laughing. And when Jasmine inhaled, her nostrils even filled with the slight scent of baby powder.

Despair was still with her; it was the marrow inside her bones. But now her misery was wrapped inside hope.

Hope.

Because of Brian.

Leisurely, she replayed every second of that part of yesterday,
just as she’d been doing all night. In the video inside her mind, she again watched Brian stride into the room, saw him stand tall, felt the hope he brought right in with him.

A rush of cool air assaulted her, disrupting her daydream, making her eyes open wide.

“You scared me,” she said to Hosea, who was standing at the open door. She turned off the shower and then stepped into the towel that he held up for her.

“I was just checking on you,” he said.

She felt him watching as she moved toward the sink and grabbed her toothbrush.

He said, “I was surprised . . . I didn’t expect you to be up.”

She nodded but said nothing as she looked at her husband through the mirror. She understood his words—in the last week, she’d spent more hours in bed than out. She’d lain in her bed with Zaya, waiting for the good news to come.

But after yesterday, she realized there was no need to lie and wait; she needed to become part of the solution. She needed to be active in Jacqueline’s rescue.

After she rinsed her mouth she glanced up, and in the mirror’s reflection she saw Hosea, still there, looking at her with a smile. On his face, she saw
his
hope, but it wasn’t the kind of hope that she needed. His hope was all about her—getting up, getting better, getting ready to take care of Zaya. His hope had nothing to do with Jacqueline.

She said, “I’m going to ride with you to the center. I wanna do something to help.”

“Are you sure?” His frown was slight. “After yesterday . . .”

She wanted to tell him that yesterday wasn’t today. At the beginning of yesterday, there was no Brian. But she said, “It was just a shock to see that flyer, but I’m fine now. I don’t want to just sit around and wait anymore.”

When he wrapped his arms around her from behind, she
almost smiled. Especially when she thought about the other arms that had held her. The arms of the man who looked so much like Jacqueline.

Hosea said, “I’ll take you over. I’ve got to stop at the precinct . . .”

Jasmine knew what that was about—her husband was keeping Detective Cohen away from her by going to see the man himself just about every day.

He continued, “And then I’ll head to work at the church after that.”

Work?
How could he do anything except look for Jacqueline? How could he go on as if life was normal? Even Brian had given up everything for her and Jacqueline.

“You don’t have to take me,” she said, ducking from his embrace. “I don’t mind catching a cab.”

“No, I want to,” he said as he shrugged off his bathrobe. “What about Zaya?”

His question made her pause. Should she take Zaya with her?

She said, “He can stay here. With Mrs. Sloss. But I don’t want her to take him out. Not anywhere.”

“Okay.” He nodded with a smile, as if she had taken the first step in a twelve-step program. “He’ll stay here, inside, with Mrs. Sloss . . . today.” Before he stepped into the shower, he added, “I’m glad you’re getting out.”

She didn’t bother to tell him that she was glad, too. Because if she said a word, she was sure that her husband would be able to see the real reason behind the little bit of joy that she’d found.

Instead, she rushed to her closet and stood in the middle of the walk-in space. She had to pick the right outfit for her first day at the center.

• • •

Jasmine’s hand trembled as she held the doorknob. She didn’t move for a moment, just said a quick prayer before she pushed the door open. Her eyes scanned the room, searching, then settling. Her heavenly request had been answered.

Brian was there. In the back . . . just waiting for her.

Well, maybe not waiting. But he was there, sitting at the same desk where she’d been sitting yesterday.

That was a sign.

For the first time since Jacqueline had disappeared, Jasmine’s lips spread into an easy smile. All she wanted to do was dash across the room, but eyes were watching. So she edged inside, into the middle of the chatter, and forced herself to take slow steps.

“It’s good to see you,” Malik said.

“You just saw me yesterday.”

“What? I can’t be glad two days in a row?” He kissed her cheek. “I’ve gotta run, but you’ll be cool here with Keith, right?”

She nodded, her eyes on Brian. Malik followed her gaze, and when he turned back to her, he had a slight frown. “Be careful,” was all that he said before he kissed her again and walked out the door.

She didn’t know what her godbrother was warning her about, but she didn’t care. All she wanted to do was get to Brian. But first, she had to get past Mrs. Whittingham.

“We’ve received quite a few calls this morning,” the woman said, speaking as if they were friends. “I have so much hope.”

Next it was Keith who blocked her path. “Hosea didn’t tell me you were coming,” he said. “I would’ve met you downstairs.”

“I wanted to come by, help a little.” She snuck a quick glance toward Brian. “I was thinking I could do something—like stuff envelopes.”

“Well, here,” Keith said as he led her back to exactly where she wanted to be. “That’s what Brian’s doing.”

At the mention of his name, Brian turned around. She held her breath as he gazed at her—his eyes moved up, then down, and she was ready for his perusal. Her outfit was casual—just skinny black jeans and an oversize winter-white turtleneck. But it was the knee-high stiletto boots that took the outfit to chic, and Jasmine knew she looked good. A nanosecond later, when Brian smiled, she knew she looked good to him, too.

“Jasmine’s going to stuff some envelopes with you,” Keith said. Then, to Jasmine, he asked, “Do you need anything? Do you want me to sit back here with you?”

Brian spoke up, “I’ll take care of her, Keith.”

It was just the tips of Brian’s fingers that touched Jasmine’s elbow as he guided her to a chair, but the earth shook from the electrical bolt that shot through her at the moment of contact. It took focus now for Jasmine to place one foot in front of the other until she settled into her seat.

She was still smiling, but then she looked at the flyers stacked in front of her, and every good thing she was feeling went away with the image of her smiling daughter under the word
MISSING
.

Like before, sadness overwhelmed her. But right next to her sorrow, she now had hope.

After a deep breath, she turned to Brian. “So all we’re doing is stuffing these flyers into envelopes?”

He nodded. “Like Hosea said, we’re using lots of technology”—with his thumb, he pointed over his shoulder to the computers—“but I decided to hang here with the old-fashioned stuff.”

“Okay.” But her hands rested like stone in her lap. She couldn’t move. Not with Jacqueline’s picture staring right into her eyes.

Brian scooted his chair a bit closer. “I have an idea,” he said casually, though he snatched the stack of flyers away from her view. “I’ll fold and all you have to do is stuff.” He grinned. “Deal?”

With a release of breath that sounded like a sob, she nodded. She so wanted to be here, doing something for Jacqueline. She so needed to be here, sitting next to the man who had shaped Jacqueline. But she wasn’t sure how long she would last if she had to keep looking at that photo . . . under that word.