Catch Me Twice

by Charmaine Pauls

  Glancing over her shoulder at the taxi idling in our driveway, I finally find my voice. “Can I help you?”

  She brushes a strand of her perfectly styled bob behind her ear. Her words are soft-spoken, uncertain, as she says with a faint accent, “I was told Jake Basson lives here. Yes?”

  I frown and look at Nancy, who’s standing like a statue with her wine in her hand. “That’s right. I’m Kristi, his wife.”

  The olive tone of her skin turns darker over her high cheekbones. “I’m Jasmine.” She lifts the bundle in her arms toward me. “And this is his baby.”

  Chapter 21

  Kristi

  She may as well have punched the wind from my stomach. Gasping, I take a step back. Nancy stands frozen, her wide eyes fixed on the strikingly beautiful woman with the slanted eyes and slim frame. The cry of the baby pulls me back to my senses.

  Placing a palm on my suddenly sweaty nape, I step aside. “You better come inside.”

  She picks up the suitcase, balancing the baby in one arm. “Can someone please get the taxi?”

  Get the taxi? I blink. Nothing makes sense right now. “What?”

  “I don’t have enough money,” she says, the flush on her face deepening.

  “Oh.” I look between the woman and her baby. Jake’s baby. Ignoring the painful twist of my insides, I grapple for words. “Yes. Of course. I, um…”

  Nancy’s hand on my arm is a calm touch that grounds me, her sympathetic voice a beacon of reason when I can’t think. “Shall I get Jake?”

  “Yes.” I swallow away the dryness of my mouth. “Please.”

  As she scurries away, the glass still in her hand, I look around the lounge that misses furniture. We haven’t had time to buy sofas yet. We haven’t had time, my mind screams as I battle to come to grips with what’s happening.

  “I…” I point toward the hallway door. “There are chairs in the kitchen.”

  Jasmine drops the suitcase. “He’s hungry. I have to feed him.”

  Not knowing what to say, I hurry ahead to the kitchen. If I walk fast enough, can I run away from this? The crying stops abruptly. I turn. Jasmine has moved the elastic of her strapless dress down over one breast. The baby is latched on, making suckling noises.

  I point at a chair by the table. “Please sit down.”

  She takes a seat, smiling down at her baby.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  She lifts her dark eyes to me. “Water, please. If it’s not too much trouble.”

  “No, I mean, yes, of course not.” I fill a glass with water. “Ice?”

  “No, thank you.”

  I place the glass next to her on the table. My heart is beating so hard I’m sure she must be able to hear it. “I’m going to see where Jake is. I’ll be right back.”

  Escaping to the lounge, I stop in the doorframe. Jake is leaning through the open window of the taxi, handing the driver a bill from his wallet. Nancy stands next to him with Noah’s hand clasped in hers. Noah is holding his rugby ball under one arm. How vulnerable he looks. How easily his little heart can be broken if a father he barely got to know is ripped from his life.

  When Jake turns, our gazes clash. For a moment, neither of us moves. His expression is veiled. The only sign of emotion is the stormy darkness in his eyes. A hundred words must be passing between us, but their meaning is lost in the air. I can’t get enough of a grip on myself to make sense of anything.

  “Come on, big man,” Nancy says, shooting me a meaningful look. “Let’s go push you on the swing.” She ushers Noah toward the giant oak tree where Jake has fixed a swing to a branch.

  Jake holds my eyes as the heels of his shoes fall hard on the concrete path. He walks with purpose, strong and sure, climbing the three steps that put us on eye level. How can he be so unruffled? Stopping short of me, he stares at me for another moment with that hard, unreadable look. I’m plastered to the spot, my brain strangely shutting down. It’s only when he advances and I’m forced to make way for him that I move. Our shoulders bump when he passes, a small point of contact that feels like a violent eruption.

  “Where is she?” he asks without looking back at me.

  “In the kitchen.”

  He pauses in the hallway door. “Please give us a minute.”

  I nod, even if he can’t see it. Tears blur my vision as he steps through the frame and vanishes from sight. I’m not sure why I’m crying, if it’s the shock, hurt, or fear of the consequences, but squeezing my eyes shut doesn’t turn off the valve. The tears keep on leaking through my closed eyelids. I can’t let Noah see me like this.

  Rushing outside, I escape to the backyard. Blindly, I walk to the garden table under the apricot tree and lean with my palms on the top. I’m gulping in air as if I’ve run a marathon, my whole body shaking. On the table stands Nancy’s abandoned wine glass, a lipstick stain on the rim and condensation beading on the outside.

  How out of place the glass seems here in the empty backyard.

  Jake

  The woman in the kitchen is cuddling a baby at her chest. The edges of a blanket fall open like wrapping paper around a gift. A blue blanket. A boy. He’s the length of the forearm he rests on, his head so small it’ll fit in my palm. His cheeks hollow as his mouth works greedily, sucking on his mother’s breast, while his tiny fingers are folded around her forefinger. Looking away from her naked breast, I catch her tentative smile and gaze on me.

  “Hello, Jake.”

  Her voice is husky and slightly familiar. It rings a bell in the back of my mind. I can’t put my finger on it. I take a good look at her face—almond-shaped eyes, wide mouth, straight nose, sharp lines—but I can’t place her.

  “Do I know you?”

  Her smile broadens, turning into a gesture that seems both sensual and forgiving. “Don’t you recognize me?”

  “I’m afraid not. Enlighten me.”

  “Dubai. The Princess Club.”

  I look harder. She’s dressed in a strapless dress that falls to her ankles with a slit on the side. My gaze trails over her body for a clue. Slender, long legs. Toned arms. A little red birthmark on her shoulder. Fuck me. The wig. I didn’t recognize her without the Cleopatra hair and make-up.

  “I don’t know your name.”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “I never asked.”

  Her tone is patient, musical. Too familiar. “I told you many times.”

  “Remind me.”

  “Jasmine.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  She looks at the baby who’s fallen asleep on her breast. “His name is Ulis. He’s yours.”

  “He’s not.”

  “You fucked me, didn’t you?”

  “I used a condom.” Always. I learned my lesson the first time round with Kristi. Only a dumb bastard would make the same mistake twice.

  “Condoms break.”

  “I think I would’ve noticed.”

  “You were wasted.”

  “Never enough to not know what I was doing.” I never lose that much control. Not even when I was fucked or drunk.

  She looks away.

  I shove my hands in my pockets. “Where did you get my address?”

  “Ahmed.”

  “Ahmed gave it to you?” I doubt that very much. I sent him my new address to ship my personal belongings, but that play-it-by-the-rules, over-cautious dandy would never have given my address to anyone without my permission. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Fine. I stole it.”

  “You stole it? How?”

  “From the database at the club.”

  The owner, Izak has never been good at putting passwords on his computers. “How did you get here?”

  “I told Ahmed about the baby. He gave me the money for the flight ticket.”

  Bull-fucking-shit. Ahmed would’ve called me. Taking my phone from my pocket, I swipe the screen. “Fine. Let’s call him to let him know you arrived safely.”

  “No,” she c
ries, startling the baby. “Look, I didn’t know what else to do. You know the club rules. I can’t work there if I have a child. Your child.”

  “Stop bullshitting, Jasmine. You and I both know I never had a broken condom.”

  Biting her lip, she averts her eyes.

  I take a step closer. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Slowly, she meets my gaze again. “I punched holes in it.”

  “What?” The word is cold, measured.

  “I took it out of your wallet when you came in and asked for me, while you were at the bar, and stuck a needle through it. Several times.”

  Rage threatens to smother me. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

  She keeps on looking at me with her doe eyes and her lip caught between her teeth.

  I’m seething. “You tried to catch me.”

  “I love you.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I do! I always did. We have something, me and you, something no one else can give you.”

  She’s referring to the strangling, to the rough way I got off, until that last day. For Christ sake, I couldn’t even get it up. “You’re wrong.”

  Tears shimmer in her eyes. “Don’t say that.”

  “If you love me like you claim, you’d never have done something like that.”

  “Please, Jake. I have nowhere else to go.”

  I’m shaking inside. My future, the one I worked so hard for with Kristi, is falling apart at the seams. I feel it slip through my fingers as sure as regret for my past actions eats me alive.

  “I don’t know what else to do,” she whimpers.

  “Jake?”

  I fling around at the sound of Kristi’s voice. She’s standing in the door with her arms folded over her stomach, wearing that pretty sundress and the telltale signs of crying.

  Her gaze moves between Jasmine and me. “I don’t want to interrupt, but I have to grab some things for Noah.”

  I inhale deeply and exhale through my nostrils. Helplessly caught in this shit storm, I stand immobile as she takes Noah’s jungle cooler box from the cupboard. My heart jams into my ribs when she packs his water bottle and favorite spoon inside. Fuck. I know how much this must hurt for her. It’s one thing to know about my past, but another to have a prostitute I fucked in her house. In her home. With a baby. Kristi drops an apple and a mini packet of wholegrain cereal into the cooler box. Is she leaving me? Is she taking Noah away from me? My breathing speeds up like a train about to run off the tracks.

  “Wait here,” I say to Jasmine as Kristi leaves the room.

  I come to a dead stop in the corridor. She’s taking a pillow and stack of linen from the closet at the end of the hall. When she carries the pile through the door on the opposite side, I charge after her into the spare bedroom. If she thinks she’s sleeping here, she’s got another thing coming.

  Every breath I drag in hurts. “What are you doing?”

  She barely glances at me from pulling a fitted sheet over the mattress. “Making the bed.”

  “I can see that. Why?”

  She straightens. The pain in her eyes makes me want to howl. “For Jasmine, of course.”

  It takes a moment before the meaning sinks in. My relief is so great, my body sags. I have to brace a shoulder on the wall. “I was going to drive her to the hotel.”

  “With a newborn? With no money?”

  “I would’ve paid for the room.”

  “That baby is fragile, Jake. Do you have any idea how susceptible their undeveloped immune systems are to viruses and germs? A breeze outside and he’ll catch a cold, or worse, pneumonia.”

  “You’re right.” It floors me to say because Kristi’s hurt is my destruction. “It’s best if she sleeps over.”

  She grabs a flat sheet and shakes it out over the bed. “We can give her Noah’s crib for the baby.”

  “Why can’t the baby sleep with her in the bed?”

  “Too many risks. He can slip under the pillows or covers and suffocate. She can roll onto him in her sleep.”

  “What about Noah?”

  “He’s sleeping at Nancy’s place tonight.” Straightening again, she rests her hands on her hips. Her voice cracks a little on the last word as she says, “It’s better like this.”

  She’s not going to Nancy’s place, sleeping in the spare room, or banishing me to the couch, but it doesn’t mean she’ll be here tomorrow. Kristi will take care of everyone like the night Gina took care of us after my father hit Kristi with his belt. She’ll cook dinner, make sure we’re all fed, put Noah’s needs first, and then she’ll leave. After everything I’ve subjected her to and now this, how can I blame her? My insides twist. Pain punches into my gut as sure as a physical blow. I thought I’d saved us, but my mistakes may still destroy everything I care about.

  “If you want to give Noah a kiss,” she says quietly, “you better catch Nancy before she leaves.”

  Dismissed. She may not say it in so many words, but she doesn’t want to look at my face. Pushing away from the wall, I grant her what she wants.

  Seeing Noah in his car seat in the back of Nancy’s car nearly kills me. I kiss him and give in to the urge to ruffle his hair.

  “You sure it’s not too much effort?” I ask.

  “Not at all. You go and deal with whatever you have to.”

  “I appreciate this.”

  “I’m not his godmother for nothing.”

  When I get back to the house, Kristi is frying steaks. Ulis lies in Noah’s old stroller in the kitchen, fast asleep.

  “Where’s Jasmine?”

  “Taking a shower.”

  My heart swells, aches, and then breaks for the woman who’ll take care of the baby of a woman I fucked several times, cooking for that very woman, so that said woman can have a shower.

  If I could, I’d chop off my arms and legs to take this away, but all I can offer are my hands. “What can I do to help?”

  Her voice is raw, like a chafed wound. “You can set the table.”

  We work in silence, pain drifting around us like toxic air, the innocent baby sleeping under a blue blanket a tangible reminder of the hurt that won’t lift. When I place a third place setting, Kristi stops me.

  “Jasmine is tired. I’ll take a tray to her room.”

  She dishes up steak, egg, and French fries, and loads the plate with a pitcher of ice tea on the tray. I would’ve offered to carry it, but how will Kristi feel about me being alone with an ex-lover in her bedroom? How does my wife feel about anything right now?

  Kristi comes back for the stroller, and then we’re alone. We eat in silence, both of us as stiff and upright as cardboard cutouts. I don’t taste the food I swallow. Eating is mechanical. The only reason I’m chomping down my dinner is not to insult Kristi’s efforts. I load the dishwasher while she leaves a note for Gina and Eddie, for now only letting them know we have a guest so they don’t get a fright running into her in the morning.

  When we finally go to our bedroom, I’m both relieved and filled with the worst kind of anticipation. I can’t wait to get the talk we need to have out of the way while simultaneously wanting to put it off for longer.

  Kristi kicks off her shoes and sits down on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped between her knees. I click the door shut and lean against it.

  Her gaze searches mine over the distance. Only a few strides separate us, but it feels like continents apart. Too far. I want to touch her, but I don’t dare. I want to confess, but she deserves to speak first.

  There’s a tremor to her voice when she finally asks, “Who is she?”

  This is going to hurt, but she also deserves the truth. “She used to work at The Princess Club in Dubai.”

  “Can the baby be yours?”

  “I never fucked anyone without a condom except for you. I didn’t lie about that.”

  “Is she lying then?”

  “She says she stole the rubber from my wallet and pierced it with a needle.”

  “Why
?” she cries on a gasp. “No, don’t answer that. I know why.”

  “She meant to catch me.”

  “So, there is a good chance you’re the father.”

  “I’m not taking anything at face value. I want a paternity test.”

  “And if you are?”

  Walking over slowly, I stop in front of her. “That’s a question for you to answer.”

  She frowns. “What do you mean?”

  I swallow and push the words from my throat. “Would you leave me?” Correction. She’d keep the house. “Would you want me to leave?”

  “Jake.” Her hand reaches for mine, her fingertips playing over the limb that hangs like dead weight at my side. “I love you. I made a commitment when I made my choice. If the baby is yours, we’ll handle it. Together. You can’t be a father to Noah and not to another child of yours. It won’t be easy. We’ll have to be honest with both children when they get older, but you’ll be a good daddy to him, just as you are to Noah, and no matter how hard it is or what history you have with Jasmine, she’ll be the mother of your child just as I am. She’ll need our support. I have no idea how we’re going to work out the logistics or what Jasmine’s plans are, if she wants to stay in town or go back to Dubai, but we’ll just have to take it day by day and handle each hurdle at its comes. If we all work hard, we can make it.”

  Her words knock my heart sideways in my chest. They are pure, angelic. Her sacrifice redefines beauty, and she’s the personification of it.

  Falling down on my knees, I brace my hands on either side of her body on the bed. “I don’t deserve you.”

  She cups my face. “You deserve love, just like everyone.”

  Not everyone. Some people act with selfish intentions. Not everyone acts in the other’s best interest. She’s giving me unconditional love. If I’ve ever doubted her love, she just gave me a declaration that, like her inner beauty, redefines the whole meaning of love. She’s one in a million. The only one. Mine.

  A possessive rush heats my gut. An obsessive need pulses in my lower region. I came too close to losing her. Again. Volatile emotions and a primitive compulsion to prove my claim on her fuse together into raw passion. Uncontrollable. My hands shake not only from the intensity of my desire but also from the force of controlling it as I flatten my palms on her knees.