But it was too late now. There had to be two dozen people in the room. A mixture of people: old and young, black and white. There was a man who looked like a college professor and several prim and proper women sitting around the large oak table, which was adorned with enough food to feed the entire Buffalo Soldiers army.
Major immediately began introducing me to people around the room.
“This is my brother, your uncle Dave,” he said, pointing to the professor. “This is Martha and Emerson, they are your godparents,” he continued, pointing to a couple sitting on the right side of the table.
For the next ten minutes it went like that, Major introducing people who were supposed to matter to me. I don’t think I remembered anybody’s name, and I hated how they were all studying me like I was some kind of special assignment. We’d just finished the last of the introductions when Elaine entered the room.
“You’re here!” she exclaimed, hugging me. “That is so wonderful. It is so great to see you. I’ve been anxiously waiting all day.” Then she walked over and hugged Malcolm. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you.” She turned back to me. “I trust you’ve had a chance to meet your family.” She didn’t give me time to reply before she said, “Come. Come,” as she took my arm. “I saved you a seat right next to me.”
I glanced back at Malcolm as she dragged me to the table. For the next hour while we dined on Peking duck and other dishes I had never heard of, I felt like I was in a whirlwind situation. I was bombarded with questions, showered with praise and doted on like a china doll. It all made me uneasy.
Malcolm, however, looked like he had been a part of their family his whole life. He laughed with them, cracked jokes, and fit right in.
Yeah, I definitely should have left him at home. No way would he be objective in this situation. And it’s not like I even knew how I wanted him to react. I just wanted him to do it with a clear mind.
Not that I didn’t want Malcolm to get to know my family; I paused as I realized that I had just thought of them as my family. I shook my head trying to come to terms with that new reality.
“So, Alicia,” the professor-looking man asked, “where did you go to college?”
“Dave, she goes by Jill,” Major said.
“Because Jill is my name,” I couldn’t help but add.
“Pardon me,” Dave corrected. “Jill. Where did you attend college?”
Major smiled at me. “Your uncle teaches eighteenth century World History and British Literature at Rice University.”
“I attended TSU for a while, but I didn’t finish,” I replied.
He looked unimpressed and Elaine stepped in.
“Our . . . Jill has had an eventful life that I’m sure one day she’ll be happy to share with us all,” Elaine said. “For now, let’s just enjoy this fine meal.”
That seemed to settle everyone and the conversation changed to more generic topics. Malcolm was telling some of the family members about his app when I looked down at my vibrating phone. My heart dropped when I saw, “Fort Bend County Sherriff” on the Caller ID.
“Please excuse me,” I said, scooting back from the table.
“Where are you going, dear?” Elaine asked.
“I have to answer this phone call.”
“We generally don’t bring our cell phones to the dinner table,” she said, a firm smile across her face.
“It is quite rude,” Dave mumbled with disgust.
“Give her a pass,” someone else at the table said. “It’s not like she grew up with any proper training.”
The way several people giggled in response made me angry, but I didn’t have time to deal with them, or my husband, who while he didn’t laugh, didn’t come to my defense either. I ignored all of them as I pressed the Talk button and stepped into the hall.
“Hello,” I said.
“Is this Jill Reed?” the voice on the other end asked.
“Yes, may I help you?”
“Mrs. Reed, we got your number from our database. We have a woman here who we believe is your mother.”
“Oh my God,” I said. “Where is here?”
“At the Sheriff’s office in Richmond.”
“Richmond?” I asked. That was at least thirty-five minutes from us.
“Is she all right?”
“We believe so. She is very disoriented. But we’re grateful that’s all she is.”
“What does that mean?”
“Would it be possible for you to come to the police station?”
I didn’t hesitate as I said, “I’m on my way.”
I was sure Elaine would be upset, but this mini family reunion would have to wait. My mother needed me. And I didn’t see how anything would ever change that fact.
Chapter 17
My heart raced as I jumped out of the car and bolted up the stairs to the Fort Bend Sheriff’s Department. The place was a bevy of activity, with drunks, hookers, and defiant-looking juvenile delinquents scattered about.
I looked to my right, then my left; when I noticed the reception desk, I darted over.
“Hello, my name is Jill Reed,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “I got a call that my mother, Connie Harrison, is here at the police station. Apparently, she was picked up by the cops.”
The officer at the front desk tapped the computer screen. “Yes, it looks like she’s in holding,” he said. “Please have a seat.”
“Holding? Why is she in holding? What happened?” The man was so casual as he spoke, but I was a frantic mess.
The officer pointed to a row of chairs on the other side of the room. “Ma’am, please have a seat and someone will be with you shortly.”
I felt Malcolm’s hand go to the small of my back. I’d left him in the parking lot and hadn’t even realized that he had caught up with me. “Babe, calm down. I’m sure she’s fine. We’ll get answers in a minute.”
My hands trembled in nervousness. My mother was probably dazed and confused and freaking out and all I could think was what in the world had she done to get arrested.
It seemed like an eternity before someone finally came out.
“Jill Reed?” the officer said.
“Yes, that’s me,” I said, jumping up.
“Come with me, please.”
The officer turned and led us down a long hallway. When we reached the end, he took us into a small conference room. “It seems your neighbors at 3007 South Gessner say your mother attempted to break in to their apartment. When they opened the door, she became agitated, saying they were in her apartment and that they’d killed her family. She has an identity bracelet on, which is registered to our district here in Richmond.”
I let out a heavy sigh. Aunt Marilyn had given my mother the bracelet so she must’ve had it registered to her address in Richmond. “My mother suffers from dementia,” I said. “She gets very confused. It’s the same apartment as ours. It’s just a different building.”
“I figured as much, but your mother was in a highly emotional state. To the point that we were concerned about her safety.” He looked down at his clipboard. “About thirty minutes ago, she was transported to Ben Taub Hospital.”
“She’s in the hospital? Why couldn’t they tell us that before we came here?”
The officer ignored my question and handed us a Post-it. “Here’s the information for the hospital. It doesn’t appear that your mother should be left alone. She really could’ve done some damage, or worse, gotten hurt. Your mother was so belligerent that the homeowners would’ve been well within their rights to protect their property.”
The thought of some panicked resident blasting a shotgun into my mother terrified me. Malcolm pulled me to him and hugged me. “Come on, babe. Let’s go to the hospital.”
“Thank you, officer. Is my mother going to face any charges?”
“No, I’ll do the paperwork to clear all of this up.” The officer flashed a chastising look. “But, Mrs. Reed, I suggest you do something, or this story could be ending very differ
ently.”
I nodded without replying.
Thirty minutes later we were at Ben Taub Hospital. After having been directed to my mother’s room, I found her fast asleep. Tears sprang to my eyes as I walked over and stroked her hair. The movement caused her to stir. Her eyes fluttered and she slowly looked up at me. A small smile formed.
“Jill?” she whispered.
“Yes, Mama, I’m here.”
“You’re always here. Thank God, you’re always here.” She shifted to get comfortable as she squeezed my hand tighter. “I think I got turned around. We don’t live in a nice neighborhood, Jill. That man was so mean. He cursed me and pushed me down.”
“But you’re okay now.”
She closed her eyes and I saw the slow rise and fall of her chest. “I’m always okay as long as I have you. I love you, Jill.”
I leaned in and kissed her on her forehead. “I love you, too, Mama.”
My husband shifted my daughter from one side of his chest to the other. She mumbled gibberish and briefly opened her eyes before closing them right back.
I took the keys out of his hand and opened the door. I knew he was irritated with having to leave the dinner and spend our evening at the hospital, but I didn’t know what else he expected me to do. Luckily, Mom was going to be fine and Malcolm took me home to get my car and a change of clothes so I could go back up to the hospital.
I unlocked the door, then made my way inside as he followed. I flipped the switch to turn the lights on.
“Let me warm Destiny’s bottle because I know she’s starving,” I said, heading over to the kitchen sink. I turned the faucet on and nothing happened. A sinking feeling immediately engulfed me.
“What’s up?” Malcolm said. “Are you going to warm her bottle?”
“I tried,” I said, turning to face him. “It looks like the water has been cut off.”
He released a string of curse words as he laid Destiny down on the sofa, then as if he needed to verify himself, he went over to the sink and tried to turn the faucet on.
“Damn it,” he said. “I thought we’d at least have until the end of the week.”
“I thought you said you made payment arrangements,” I said.
“I did,” he snapped. “I asked them to give me until Friday. They said because it was a rollover bill they couldn’t make any promises. It seems like they should give us some kind of warning,” he said, kicking the ottoman like it was the furniture’s fault.
I wanted to remind him that the warning had been the pink disconnection notice lying on the counter. Instead, I just said, “It’s okay, baby. I’ll just warm it in the microwave. This one time won’t kill her.”
“It’s not okay,” he yelled. “We’re in this place, struggling, and I’m sick of it,” he continued. “What kind of man am I when I can’t even keep the water on in my own damn house?”
“Malcolm, calm down, baby,” I said, reaching out to him. He jerked his arm away and I knew that his anger wasn’t directed at me. My husband had been trying hard, but he just couldn’t catch a break. “It’s okay, we’re going to be fine,” I told him.
He sat down at the kitchen table as I put Destiny’s bottle in the microwave. I had never seen my husband look so dejected. I waited for the beep, checked the heat of the bottle, then made my way back over to the sofa to pick Destiny up and take her to her swing.
“The water bill was ninety-three dollars. Ninety-three freaking dollars and we don’t have it. And we don’t even have anybody we can go borrow it from,” he said.
We had wiped out my mom’s social security check paying the other past due bills. It was not like she had much anyway. And Malcolm would die rather than ask his mother or siblings.
“We’ll figure something out,” I said.
“We just left a mansion and we come home to our water being shut off.” Malcolm released a pained laugh.
I weighed my words carefully as I said what I was totally against but didn’t know if it was what he wanted to hear. “Uh, Malcolm, I can’t ask them for any money.”
“Why not? They’re your family,” he protested, his voice filled with exasperation.
“Family that I just met,” I reminded him. My tone was low, like I was trying to reason with him. “You don’t want to ask your family and you’ve known them all your life. I can’t ask these people that I barely know.”
He inhaled, then let out a long slow breath. “I know that, babe. I know you would never feel comfortable, but . . .” He took a deep breath. “I understand. This is all just so frustrating.”
“We’ll figure something out, baby. We always do.” I sat on the sofa next to him and buried my head in the crevice of his arms as he held me tightly until we both dozed off from exhaustion.
I don’t know how long Malcolm and I had been asleep, but the sound of screaming caused us to jump up.
“What is that?” Malcolm asked.
Before I could reply, we heard a splatter of gunshots and both of us dove onto the floor. Malcolm scurried over to Destiny, snatched her out of her swing and used his body to completely shield her. The window in our front room shattered. My screams mixed with Destiny’s wailing.
We heard someone from outside yell, “Let’s go, he got the message!”
I don’t know how long we lay on the floor, but my heart raced in panic. Even Destiny had stopped hollering and was trembling in fear. After a few minutes, Malcolm scooted Destiny toward me. “Take her upstairs,” he whispered.
“Where are you going?”
He eased toward the window and looked outside. “The cops are here. It’s okay. They’re at the neighbor’s two doors down.” His shoulders slumped in relief.
I breathed a sigh of relief as I stood up. Destiny just stared at me wide-eyed, terror on her tiny face.
As I looked down at my baby girl, I knew my mother was right; this place was no longer safe and we needed to get the hell of out of here. I hugged my daughter tight and scurried up the stairs.
Chapter 18
My best friend paced back and forth across my living room floor like I was a lost cause.
“So, I just paid the water bill,” she said. “They said it should be back on in the next hour. I cannot have my bestie walking around with funky breath because she doesn’t even have water to brush her teeth. I can’t believe you didn’t borrow the money from me.”
“Because I already owe you a hundred dollars,” I replied, rubbing my temples, exasperated over the previous day’s events. Malcolm had given a statement to the police about what he heard but thank goodness, he didn’t actually see anything because the last thing we needed was someone trying to come and retaliate against us.
Cynthia waved me off as she continued. “I don’t care about that. I can’t believe someone shot your place up. My God,” she looked around frantically, “is it even safe to be here?” She peered at the wall over the sofa. “Holy cow, are those bullet holes?”
I nodded. Malcolm had discovered those this morning, three perfectly round holes. The police were supposed to be coming back later to retrieve the bullets.
“Yeah, Malcolm and I agreed we have to do something. Both the guy next door and the guy down the hall are into some illicit stuff and I am worried sick that we’re going to get caught in the crossfire,” I replied.
“You need to be looking for another place, pronto,” Cynthia said as she walked over to the window that we’d covered with a garbage bag the night before.
I said, “I know, but rent, deposit, moving expenses, it’s just too much.” Just the thought of all that made me want to cry.
Cynthia turned and looked at me. “Which brings me to my next point in this drama filled life of yours. You mean to tell me that your parents are stupid rich?”
I nodded.
She looked around my place. “And y’all living up in this . . .” I could tell that she was about to say something derogatory and caught herself. “This tiny place, dodging bullets,” she said.
“Th
is tiny place is our home,” I said, defensively.
“Home is where you make it. And you need to be upstairs packing so you can make your way out of here and find somewhere else to live. Anywhere else.”
“Where?” I huffed. “We can’t afford to move. We can’t afford anything.” Malcolm had gotten up first thing this morning and after using a bottled water I’d brought from work last week to wash up and brush his teeth, he’d gone back to the garage he used to work at to try and get them to hire him. I know that was killing him, but as he told me before he’d left, “staying here was killing him more.”
Cynthia waved my words away. “Girl, bye. I’m with Malcolm. You need to go claim what’s rightfully yours. Do you know how different your life would be if you had grown up with what you’re entitled to?”
Even though that thought had crossed my mind multiple times, I said, “I just feel funny about all of this. I don’t know these people.”
Cynthia plopped down on the sofa, then I guess she remembered the bullet holes and got up and moved to the chair on the other side of the room. “You don’t know them yet,” she said. “Get to know them. Obviously, they want you in their lives.”
I sighed. “I know, but I just feel like I need to take it slow.”
“Do you like living here?” she asked.
“Of course not,” I replied.
“Do you like working at Starbucks?” she asked.
“You know I don’t. I mean, ten years ago, I would’ve loved it. But I want a career.”
“Then, go work for your daddy. Shoot, it worked for Ivanka Trump. What does he do again?”
“He works in manufacturing and apparently supplies goods to discount stores all over the country. He also has a bunch of other investments.”
“Go work for his company. Start building a legacy for you and Destiny.”
I knew my best friend was right, but something about this whole situation wasn’t sitting right with me. My life could change, but I guess I felt like that would’ve been an admission of my mother’s wrongdoing.
The Stolen Daughter Page 9