Sins of the Mother (27 page)

Even though she couldn’t see him, she could almost feel the distress she was sure was on his face.

“Jasmine was just calling about the posters. Remember, I told you about those color—”

Now she turned to him and held up her hand. “It wasn’t the phone call that made me decide to do this.” She put down the newspaper. “I hadn’t planned to stay too long anyway.”

“I know, but I thought you’d stay at least for the rest of the week, through the weekend.”

She looked down at her hands. “I have to get back to my business.”

He nodded but said, “I need you.”

Inside, she moaned and told herself that she had to go. She didn’t have the fortitude to be one-third of any kind of threesome. So she said nothing.

When he sighed and tossed his cell phone onto the bed, Alexis spoke up. “I’m sorry; when I got here on Saturday, I should have told you that I was going to be here for . . . just a few days.”

With slow steps, Brian closed the gap between them. “I understand.”

She nodded and then had a thought—maybe this didn’t have to be over. She asked, “Are you . . . going to stay?”

In the silence that followed, she had plenty of seconds to think. Was she really that selfish? Did she truly want him to leave behind New York . . . and his daughter?

Yes,
she admitted . . . and also admitted that she hated that part of herself. But she didn’t know how to live a life that included Jasmine.

While Brian stood in front of her silent, pondering, she had hope.

Until, “Yes, I’m staying. I have to.”

She exhaled and blew away all of her optimism.

When he took her in his arms and said, “It won’t be for much longer; we’re going to find Jacquie soon,” she had to press back tears. There was no reason to cry—this wasn’t about her.

She stepped away from him and, without acknowledging his words, said, “I need to get dressed, and then I’ll catch a cab . . .”

His eyes and mouth widened with surprise. “You’re leaving now?”

She nodded. “It’s best,” her voice quivered. “I already called. There’s a flight at two.”

This time, his embrace was tighter, and Alexis squeezed him back before she gently pushed him away and turned toward the bathroom. But she’d barely taken a step when he grabbed her arm, swung her around, and kissed her with the
passion of a man who’d known only one true love. Within seconds, he’d freed the belt of her bathrobe and she stood naked inside his arms. By the time they fell back onto the bed, Brian’s bathrobe had fallen away, too.

Now they were connected by more than their lips, but unlike the night when she’d arrived, this morning their lovemaking was slow. And sweet. And Alexis wondered if Brian knew what she knew—that this moment in time would soon be a memory that would have to last forever.

E
VEN WHEN
B
RIAN WALKED INTO
the center alone, Jasmine didn’t dare hope that every single one of those wishes she’d made in the last twenty-four hours had come true. Even when Brian shook hands with Keith, then moseyed back to where she sat, she still didn’t really breathe.

“Hey,” he said as he sat down.

She returned his greeting, and then with wide, innocent eyes, she looked around. “Where’s Alexis?”

The smile that he wore faded slowly as he folded a flyer. “She went back to L.A. last night.” Then, as if it was an afterthought, he added, “She said to tell you she’s still praying . . . she just had to get home.”

“Oh,” was all Jasmine said, because if she’d said any more, she would have been on her feet doing the Electric Slide. She’d been right! Brian had sent Alexis away, and it was all because of her.

But while her heart was having its own celebration, on the outside she remained calm. “We missed you yesterday,” she
said. When Brian kept his head down, she added, “Keith was setting up teams to go out and put up posters, and I was hoping that you and I could have gone together.”

Now he looked at her. “Are you sure you’re up to that?”

She nodded. “If I can do it with you.”

His head tilted a bit to the side. “What about doing it with Hosea?”

That question shocked her. “Ah . . . he’s . . . working . . . at church. He can’t just pick up and go out like that.”

He looked as if he didn’t believe her.

“I mean, he cares about Jacquie,” she further explained, “but he knows that the people here will do whatever’s necessary. And he has a life. So I want to go with you.”

It took Brian a moment to say, “Let’s finish up with these flyers. Then there are some follow-up calls I have to make, and I need to speak to Keith—”

“Anything you can talk about with me?”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to upset you. You didn’t sound good when I spoke to you yesterday.”

Because you weren’t here.

She wanted to tell him that she could talk to him about anything, especially Jacqueline. But she backed off.

Brian seemed a bit different today, not as easygoing and open as he’d been when he’d arrived a week ago. But it was just because of Alexis. It had to be tough on him, the way he’d probably thrown her out. After all, she couldn’t deny that Brian did care for Alexis. She could see it every time he jumped when Alexis said something or had a question. Even though Jasmine knew what was up with Alexis, Brian didn’t seem to know that he was being played. Alexis was just acting like a needy woman to get his attention. Jasmine had always hated females who used tricks . . . Alexis was proof that those tactics never worked.

Still, Jasmine knew she had work to do with Brian. Alexis was gone, but it would take a little bit of time for Brian to forget about her. And while he worked to get Alexis out of his system, she would be the shoulder he could cry on. She would be there for him, the way he was there for her.

From the corner of her eye, she peeked at Brian. Even now she had to inhale as his thick eyebrows bunched together like he was in deep thought—just like Jacqueline did when she was writing her name, or studying her numbers, or trying to color within the lines. And his profile—the small hook to his nose, his square jaw—and the rest of him, from the cinnamon tint of his skin to the walnut-brown color of his eyes, he’d given it all to Jacqueline.

Jasmine loved looking at him, and being close to him, and touching him. All she wanted to do right now was rest her head on his shoulder. Because when she was with him, they were both closer to Jacqueline.

She wanted to cry—fake tears so that he would hold her. But there would be plenty of time for that. Just as she waited for Jacqueline, she would wait for Brian.

And she had a feeling that she wouldn’t have to wait too long.

H
OSEA DRAGGED INTO THE APARTMENT
and rested for a moment at the front door. Every light in the front room was out, but he easily made his way through the dark.

He hadn’t planned to be out this late, but there were a lot of storefronts, and bus stops, and tree trunks between here and Long Island. And since yesterday, Hosea was sure that he’d seen every one of them.

Sinking onto the couch, he kicked off his shoes and massaged his feet. It had been the longest two days.

Mae Frances—and a friend of hers—had joined him on his journey to put up the new posters all over Brooklyn. Though he’d been focused on the posters, he’d spent many of those hours trying to figure out Mae Frances’s friend.

It had been a surprise when he’d gone to pick up Mae Frances and the man had walked out of the building with her. They were an odd couple: Mae Frances, so tall (almost six feet) and bundled inside her old mink; and the man, a good foot
shorter, wearing an Indiana Jones–style fedora and a trench coat that hung down to his ankles.

“This is my friend, Sonny,” Mae Frances had said simply when she stepped up to the car. “He’s going to help us.”

That was all she’d said. Hosea had wanted to ask a bunch of questions, but what did he need to know? Sonny was a friend who wanted to help. Lots of volunteers had come out.

But Sonny had a lot of questions for him. He sounded like the police, the way he interrogated him in his heavy Brooklyn accent: “So you don’t know anyone who would do this?” “Did you or your wife ever feel like you were being followed?” “Have you ever been threatened?”

After a while, Hosea had glanced at the man through the rearview mirror. “What’s up with all the questions?”

The man had stared right back at him. “I’m just curious. What . . . you don’t want to find your daughter?”

That tone, his attitude, had made Hosea want to stop his car and tell the man to walk back to Manhattan. But then he’d remembered—Sonny had come to help. He was, after all, a friend of Mae Frances. Maybe Sonny was just as eccentric—and crazy—as she was.

So they’d driven through Brooklyn, and it didn’t take long for Hosea to be glad that he had Mae Frances
and
Sonny with him.

But by the end of the day, Mae Frances had said that her legs ached; all the walking had been too much for her.

This morning, she’d told him, “I can’t do it again, but Sonny wants you to call him and let him know what time to be ready.”

Hosea never made that call.

Now he wondered if he should have taken Sonny up on his offer. Today, Hosea had worked alone, walking the streets of
the eastern part of Queens and some of Long Island. But he’d put up all three hundred of the signs that had been in his car.

He shook his head and wondered if any of this was even doing any good. Was Jacqueline still in New York? Was Jacqueline still . . .

He had to do it again: Unclench. Breathe in. Breathe out. Count.

Now he was fine.

He whispered, “Where are you, Jacquie?”

Often, he released that question into the atmosphere, hoping for some kind of cosmic connection, some supernatural force that would allow him to feel his daughter, see her thoughts, find her, and bring her home. It just had to happen, and soon—because each day that passed without her took a piece of him away. A piece that he wasn’t sure would ever grow back.

That thought of defeat made him roll off the couch, onto his knees. In the dark of his living room, he leaned against the couch and prayed, “Lord, I’ve never been a weak man, though that’s how the world may see me because I follow you. But I feel helplessly weak now. I know that You’re in charge and that this is part of Your divine plan, but Father, please bring our girl home. And in the meantime, hold her in Your arms. Protect her mind, protect her heart, protect every single part of her body.” The last words were barely out before a sob rose from his throat, and he paused to hold back the others building inside. He was a man; he was not supposed to cry. And what were tears going to do anyway?

Pain made its way to his brain, and he released a soft, “Argh!” Looking down, he saw his hands—clutched into tight fists, his fingernails tearing into his skin. With more words to God, he relaxed and stood.

Moving into Zaya’s room, he clicked on the light, and for
a nanosecond, panic rose in him at the sight of the empty space where Zaya’s crib had stood. But in the next instant, he remembered that Zaya’s crib was in their bedroom. When he entered his bedroom, he saw that he was right.

Only the soft glow from the moon that shined through sheer curtains illuminated the room. But the light shined right on Jasmine’s face as she held their son. Both were asleep, though only Zaya snored. Hosea stood still and cherished the moment.

It was only during these times, when Jasmine was with Zaya, that he saw any signs of happiness in her. As she slept she smiled, and Hosea wondered if she was dreaming about Jacqueline. Did she imagine their daughter home?

I’m going to bring her home, Jasmine,
he said to himself.
If she’s still alive, I will find her.

With a gentle tug, he pulled Zaya from Jasmine’s arms, and both sighed in their sleep. He tiptoed to the crib and put Zaya to rest. Jasmine remained on top of the covers, leaning back against the headboard. Shrugging from his jacket, he flung it across the chaise then crawled onto the bed. Sitting next to his wife, he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest. She opened her eyes for just a moment before she snuggled against him, her soft sounds of sleep resuming instantly.

He sighed with contentment as he held her and thought about the number of days that had passed when they’d hardly talked, and definitely hadn’t touched. He had to stop that now. There was no way he could allow this to destroy his family, especially since there was the chance that Jacqueline was . . .

No! He wouldn’t allow himself to finish that thought. At least not tonight. Tonight’s thoughts would be about love, not loss. Tonight, he would remember all the ways that God had
answered his prayers in the past—and the way God would answer him now.

“Hmmmm,” Jasmine moaned in her sleep.

Hosea closed his eyes and squeezed her tighter.

“Hmmmm,” she moaned again, and stroked his chest.

He smiled.

And then she whispered, “Brian!” wiping away every good thought that Hosea had.

“I’
M HER MOTHER
,” J
ASMINE EXCLAIMED
as if that should be explanation enough. “Keith, I can do more than just stuff a flyer inside an envelope. We can get kids to do that.”

“Yeah, but the phones?” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Jasmine sighed and looked around the center for someone to agree with her. Surely, if Brian had been there, he would have told Keith that she could handle the phones and much more. But Brian hadn’t arrived yet, and there was no need for her to wait when she wanted to take action.

“Keith,” she began, another strategy already in her mind. But before she could plead her case, Mrs. Whittingham waddled across the room to her rescue.

“Jasmine, Keith’s just concerned because most of the calls we get are from some really strange people.” Then Mrs. Whittingham turned to Keith. “But if Jasmine knows this, I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

Keith raised his hands in the air, surrendering, and motioned for Jasmine to take a seat at one of the tables with a phone.