Sins of the Mother (23 page)

Brian shook thoughts of Alexis away as the cab stopped in front of the hotel. He tossed a twenty to the driver, signaled that he didn’t want change, and jumped out of the car. There was no use pining away for Alexis; he’d put her on hold until this mission was accomplished.

As he moved toward the hotel, his plan began to take form: he’d start with this evening—order room service, call his friends about media contacts, go to bed early, sleep without regret. Then tomorrow, he would be at the center, first thing, and would begin this all over.

His head was down as he headed toward the elevator, his thoughts already on the room service menu.

And then he heard, “Brian.”

His first thought was that Jasmine had followed him; she’d caught a cab and trailed him, determined to have her way. The only thing—that wasn’t her voice. But it was a tone that he knew so well—the sound of an angel.

He turned around, not hoping, yet full of expectation. And every wish he’d ever made stood right in front of him.

He looked into the eyes of Alexis.

Three years of celibacy made them efficient, but still, this had to be some kind of record. For how quickly Brian and Alexis had stepped into the elevator, locked lips as the chamber ascended, stumbled through the eleventh-floor hallway, tripped
over unfamiliar furniture inside the suite, and then finally made their way into the bedroom. By the time they hit the sheets, they were naked, their clothes blazing a trail from the door to the bed.

It didn’t take more than four minutes.

Now they rested beneath the dampened sheets, holding hands in the dark.

“The truth is, Brian”—Alexis whispered, as if they were not alone and she didn’t want to be overheard—“I fought it all the way. I really didn’t want to come, but . . .” She paused and rolled over, still holding his hand, now facing him. “I had to be here.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “So you tracked me down because you love me so much.” He chuckled.

“It wasn’t hard to track you down,” she said, ignoring the love part of his statement. “I made one call to your favorite hotel.”

Now he dropped her hand and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. He closed his eyes . . . and then shuddered.

She looked up at him. Even in the dark, he could see her frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said, pushing aside thoughts of Jasmine that didn’t belong in his mind. “I’m just glad that you’re here. I need you, Alexis.”

They stayed that way, connected, just holding each other. Each with separate thoughts of what her trip to New York would mean.

And then his insides growled.

Alexis pushed herself up. “What was that?” she asked, feigning horror.

He clicked on the light and shrugged. “I guess I need to order room service.”

She laughed and jumped from the bed, not bothering to cover herself. “Order something for me. And call down to the bellman. Tell them to bring up my bag.”

His heart filled with love . . . and lust as his eyes followed her traipsing uninhibited toward the bathroom. Once she closed the door, he grabbed the phone. He needed to eat quick; he needed as much nourishment as he could get. Because he’d need his strength—to jump right back into the bed with the woman he loved.

I
T HAD BEEN A HARD
night.

Hosea had been pacing when Jasmine finally came home with Brian still in every part of her mind.

“Where’ve you been?” he’d asked.

She had stared for a second before she pushed past him and moved toward their bedroom.

“What? You’re just going to walk by without answering me?” he bellowed. “Where are you going now?”

She spun around and gave him her first words. “You have a lot of questions.”

The way he looked at her—with eyes packed with the same sorrow that was in hers—made her want to soften. But how could she when she knew what was really in his heart? When she knew that he wished her daughter was dead.

He released a soft sigh. “Jasmine, please don’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything,” she said, crossing her arms and tapping her foot as if she was already bored with their exchange. “I’m going to check on Zaya.”

“He’s fine,” Hosea said. “Mrs. Sloss called me when she couldn’t find you.”

Her arms dropped. “Why? What happened?” She turned toward the bedroom. “Is my baby okay?”

“Yes!” His shout stopped her. “Mrs. Sloss wanted to check on her daughter, and I told her to go on. She’ll be back in the morning.”

She exhaled, not even realizing that she’d been holding her breath.

Hosea said, “You don’t have to worry. I’ve been with him since she left. But I was worried about you.”

Jasmine rolled her eyes.

He said, “I called the center.”

She wondered if that’s what this was about. Had someone told him that she’d left with Brian?

He asked again, “So where were you?” His tone told her he desperately wanted to know.

Now she was sure—this
was
about Brian. It wasn’t like he had anything to worry about; it wasn’t Brian who had kept her out past dark.

After Brian had left her standing on the curb, she’d spent hours walking the streets of their neighborhood. Not that she had anywhere to go—she just hadn’t wanted to go home. She had no desire to be in the apartment if Jacqueline wasn’t there. All she really wanted to do was take Zaya and go away. Somewhere. Anywhere.

But since she was sure that Hosea was probably home, she’d just rambled through the streets, from one block to the next. First, across Central Park South past the Plaza Hotel and then up Fifth Avenue. From there, she made her way across Sixty-fifth and then down Madison. She walked and walked the same path, passing the same holiday-decorated stores, unfazed by the biting December wind.

Then darkness descended, and the wind bit
and
scratched. So she’d done what she had to do—she’d come home.

“I just want to know,” Hosea said, breaking through her thoughts, “where you were.”

It was anger that fueled her glare and her words, “I was out looking for
my
daughter.” Then she’d stomped into their bedroom.

She’d stood at the side of Zaya’s crib, staring at her sleeping son. When her legs tired, she perched on the edge of their bed and watched him from there. She sat in the dark until Hosea came into their bedroom.

“Jasmine, if we can’t talk to each other,” he said, sitting next to her, “then we definitely need to pray together.”

With just a slight twist of her body, she dismissed him. Without words, without a glance, she let him know that she had no intention of praying with him—and after the week she’d just had, she wasn’t even sure that she would pray without him.

Still, he stayed, until he realized that she wasn’t going to move. Then he’d stood and left her alone. After a time she’d gotten up and stripped, leaving her jogging suit in a pile right at the foot of the bed.

It wasn’t even nine o’clock when she’d closed her eyes and, after a slow mental review of the day, drifted to sleep.

But now she felt soft kisses on her cheek, and she snuggled deeper into the sheets.

Butterfly kisses,
she thought inside her dream. That’s what Jacqueline called them, when she would kiss and kiss Jasmine until she awakened.

Jacqueline. Butterfly kisses.

She wanted to keep her eyes closed, stay in that place, feel the kisses and her daughter so near.

She sighed, reveling in the realism; she could actually feel lips against her skin.

Her lids fluttered open.

And she looked into the eyes of her son. And her husband.

“Love Mama,” Zaya giggled as he leaned to kiss her again.

She fought to keep the smile on her face; she fought to keep her disappointment away.

“I love you, too, baby.” She lifted him from Hosea’s arms.

“Good morning.” Hosea spoke with a smile, as if he’d forgotten all the anger she’d hurled at him last night.

“Good morning.” She hugged and kissed Zaya, then wondered if she should do the same with Hosea. It was clear that he wasn’t holding a grudge, and she didn’t want to either . . . all she wanted was for Hosea to fight and not give up on their daughter.

Maybe he hasn’t,
she thought . . . she hoped.

That consideration made her look at him, smile, tell him with her eyes that she wasn’t as mad anymore.

Hosea slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him; together, they sat with Zaya between them. They watched their son pretend to read his book, pointing to each picture.

“Dog! Cat! El-phant!”

For a while, Jasmine smiled. Laughed even, as Zaya continued to read.

“Bear! Pig! Ga-raff!”

Then she remembered other Sundays. Mornings when Zaya and Jacqueline had joined them in bed, and the four Bushes had hung out before they prepared for church.

She wanted to cry, but the place where her tears came from had been sapped dry. So she just tucked herself back under the covers and rolled away from her husband and son.

“I’m going to take Zaya into Mrs. Sloss,” Hosea said after a few minutes. “I heard her come in about an hour ago.”

She closed her eyes and nodded.

Then, “I was thinking that we should go to both services today.”

Her eyes popped open, and she sat up just as quickly. “I’m not going to church!”

His stare showed every bit of his disapproval, but with a giggling, wiggling Zaya in his arms, he left the bedroom.

Jasmine stayed in place, pulling the duvet up high to her chin. She shook her head, almost amazed at his words. How could he think she would go to church? After that e-mail?

And what was she supposed to do once she got there? Pray? It wasn’t like her prayers—or Hosea’s—were being answered.

But the way Hosea walked back into the room let her know that he was ready for a fight.

“We need to go to church, Jasmine,” he said, sounding like the pastor talking to one of his parishioners.

The cover dropped from in front of her when she crossed her arms. “You need to go, but that church doesn’t have a single thing to do with me.”

“Since when?”

“Since someone snatched my daughter. Since those witches started sending around that e-mail.”

“That e-mail was started by one person, and how can we let anyone drive us away from where we’re supposed to be?”

She leaned back against the headboard, her stance stiff, suggesting she planned to stay that way for the long haul.

“Jasmine,” he began softly and slowly, “don’t turn your back on God; He didn’t have a thing to do with Jacqueline’s being abducted.”

“You know what? That’s what I wanted to believe. But if I listen to you and all the things you’ve ever said, then God has
everything
to do with this.”

“What?”

“You’re the one who’s always saying that God is sovereign, that He’s in charge of it all. Well, if that’s the case . . .” She held up her hands to indicate she’d just made
her
case.

“It’s not like that. God didn’t cause this; He allowed it to happen, but this isn’t because of Him, and it’s not what He wanted.”

“Well, I don’t know how you explain it, but let me tell you what I know . . . Jacqueline is missing . . . I want her back . . . I asked God to bring her back.” She stopped, tilted her head. “Is Jacquie in her bedroom?”

Hosea sat down next to her and lowered his head as if he was about to pray. “This is hard to explain if you’re dead set against hearing it, but don’t let your desire to understand what’s going on make you question God. You’re gonna have to figure out a way to trust Him. Whether you like or understand this, He’s in control. No matter what the reason or what the outcome, God’s got this, and He’ll win.”

Jasmine jumped up, needing to get far away from Hosea’s words. “Don’t preach to me! I’m not interested in understanding outcomes. And you can’t give me a single reason for a child to be taken from her mother.”

He nodded, agreeing. “You’re right—there is no
earthly
reason for this to happen.”

“Damn straight. And that’s why
I’m
going to keep fighting for
my
daughter. Because I love her! And the truth—I’m not going to depend on anyone . . . not you, and if God isn’t going to answer my prayers, then I don’t need Him either.”

He flinched, and a new sorrow glazed his eyes. For an instant, Jasmine was sorry that her words had hurt him so much. But she couldn’t help how she felt; she just had to speak the truth.

After a moment, “No matter what you think,” Hosea began so softly, she had to lean to hear him, “I love Jacqueline with a love that began before she was born. With a love”—he stopped, as if the thought of what he was about to say choked him—“with a love . . . as if she was mine. To me, she is. To
me, she came from me.” He looked right into her eyes. “So don’t you dare question my love for Jacquie. I’m going to keep fighting until she comes home. No matter what you think, no matter what you say.”

Jasmine blinked back tears.

Then Hosea added, “But no matter how long we look for Jacquie, we can’t forget that we have a son, and we have a life with our church and our family and friends. Even as we look for Jacquie, we have to keep living.”

Jasmine had softened, but now she was right back to being angry. “And how am I supposed to keep living when I can hardly breathe?” she wailed. “I’m not like you; I can’t be sad for two days and then—poof !—my sadness is gone. I can’t just move on.”

“But we can’t stop the rest of our lives either. We have to live beyond our grief.”

“So you want me to stop grieving?” she asked incredulously.

“I didn’t say that—”

She talked over him, “Because I didn’t know there was an expiration date on grief. It’s still right here,” she said, banging her fist against her chest. “Missing Jacquie, being scared for her, has settled right in the middle of me.”

He held out his hand to her; she cringed at first, not wanting any part of his touch. But then she let him take her hand and pull her down next to him.

He said, “I’m not saying not to grieve. I would never do that; everyone has to grieve in their own way, in their own time. But what I am saying is, let the grief fuel you. Let it move you to do everything to find Jacquie, but let it also move you to love your family more. Let it move you to love life more. Let it bring you up, not tear you down.”