Melinda lowered her hand, but the black police officer took a warning step toward Jarret. “Back off, lover boy. This girl’s done had enough trouble for one day.” She grabbed Melinda by the arm and led her to the foyer.
Jarret followed them with his eyes. “But she’s got...” He glanced at me. “Who is she?”
“That’s Melinda, Mike’s underage girlfriend, who probably lied and denied their relationship.” I sighed with disgust.
He huffed, disbelief on his face. “She’s wearing a stolen artifact. We found that sapphire at the site. It’s probably part of a late 18th century necklace or an earring, judging by the... That’s Mike’s girlfriend?” He craned his neck to see through the windows in the doors that led to the foyer. “What is she, like twelve?”
“No, but she’s too young for Mike. Unfortunately, I think she denied knowing him. I wonder if I got anything with the pen recorder.” I looked at Roland. He shrugged. “I hope the pen worked.”
“You’re a free man, huh?” Roland said to Jarret.
Looking awkward and unsure, Jarret shook his head and shrugged.
“Good,” Roland said. “Let’s go. We can call Sean or Candice and see what they found out.”
CHAPTER 44
THE SAVORY AROMA of authentic Mexican food pervaded the house. Adeline carried two baskets of tamales to the patio table, which now sat in the formal dining room with both patio chairs and the swivel chair from the computer desk. I had Mitch and Sean carry it inside so there would be enough seating for the dinner party.
“Place looks great, Caitlyn.” Mitch sat on one of the barstools that I had the luck to find at a garage sale on the return trip from the ethnic foods store.
I pulled plates from a cupboard and set them near the tamales that still lay out on the counter. “Thanks, Mitch. Why don’t you help Victor with the lights?”
Victor had grumbled about the assignment of hanging the chili-pepper party lights, but Candice convinced him to do it. Having hung a string of them over the patio doors, they were now working on the dining room.
“You’re just trying to keep me from the tamales.” Mitch chuckled in his odd, expressionless way.
“Maybe she don’t like y’all watching her work,” Sean said. He sat hunched at the dinner table, his back to the patio doors, eating tortilla chips out of the bag instead of dumping them into the bowls like I had asked him to do.
Bobby sat at the table, facing Sean, babbling as he mindlessly grabbed chips from the bag. “... an’ we done seen them doing it, too, so when them neighbors come back to...”
“No, Sean, that would be you,” Mitch said. “You’re the one who always—”
Tired of Mitch referring to Sean’s obsession with me, I intentionally interrupted him. “Sean, are you going to dump those chips in the bowl before Bobby eats them all?” Sean had shown interest in Adeline, and maybe something would come of that.
“Sorry, Mrs. West,” Bobby said. “I won’t eat no more.” He skipped to the dining room and said something to Victor and Candice as they worked on hanging lights.
“So, when is the guest of honor scheduled to arrive?” Mitch stroked his scrubby beard, obviously dead set against helping. Even Bobby had helped by setting out pitchers of water.
I handed him a stack of red paper napkins. “Please put these around, one at each place.”
Mitch took them. As he slid off the barstool, Adeline came over and stole his seat. She leaned forward, her thick-lashed eyes sparkling with mischief. “Your life is going to be different from now on.”
I counted out forks and spoons, a thrill of anticipation stirring inside. After all he’d gone through, Jarret deserved this party. Yes, things would be different from now on.
“Different? What do you mean?”
“Now, you are one of the few. Making authentic tamales is a rare art. You’re like a member of a special club.” She gestured with her thin tan arm, her French-tipped fingernails glittering under the kitchen lights. “All these people here know you can make tamales and they’ll tell their friends. People will beg you to come to their parties. You are now an authentic-tamale cook.” She leaned forward again and shared a giggle with me.
“I could never have done it without you. I’m so glad we met. And I’m so-o-o glad you offered to help.” After leaving the police station yesterday, Roland, Jarret and I swung by Wright Investigators. Candice had been interviewing Adeline. She introduced us and we became instant friends. When Adeline’s Mexican heritage came out, I couldn’t believe it. The timing! Right when I’d decided to cook Jarret’s favorite food, Adeline came into my life.
“I love making tamales.” Adeline grabbed an empty basket and picked up one of the tamales that lay out on the counter.
“Who could love making tamales?”
It was exhausting. Yesterday, we had driven an hour to an ethnic store, where we bought strange ingredients like cornhusks, masa flour, and cumin seeds. Today, Adeline came over early. We had a pot of pork roast and another of chicken simmering on the stove all morning. Before long, savory smells filled the house and my stomach wouldn’t stop growling no matter how many snacks I ate. Then we soaked cornhusks and shredded meat, by hand, and made a strange dough out of lard and corn masa flour. Adeline made assembling the tamales in the cornhusks and rolling them up look effortless, but I never got the hang of it. It took forever.
Wanting to surprise Jarret, I was glad he decided to go to work. He said he needed to salvage his job and thought he could wrap up their project in one day. Roland went with him. He had specific instructions to keep Jarret from coming home for lunch and to give a warning call before they returned at the end of the day.
He’d called a few minutes ago.
My heart skipped a beat. They’d come home any minute now.
Everything was ready: sweet corn cake, Mexican rice, chicken taquitos—which Adeline called flautas—and tamales. I only had to dump the salsa and bean dip into bowls.
I scurried to the pantry to find what I needed.
“Get olives, too,” Adeline shouted. She took the bag of chips from Sean and dumped it into a big bowl. Sean said something, and the two of them laughed.
I stepped away from the pantry with an armful of jars: three different salsas, bean dip, and green olives. I stopped in the middle of the kitchen.
“Oh, you mean the black olives.” I spun around.
And there was Mitch! Lurking directly behind me. As we collided, the jars slipped from my grip and crashed to the floor.
“Oh, no!” I fell to my knees to clean up the mess. This couldn’t be happening. If only I wasn’t such a klutz. My heart wrenched. I was already behind in preparing the menu Nanny had given me.
My hand brushed a piece of glass and smarted. Ignoring it, I turned to grab one of the empty plastic grocery bags. “What a mess, what a mess,” I whispered, my voice strained. I scooped the bigger pieces of glass into the bag. “Oh, what a mess.”
Tears blurred my vision and streamed down my cheeks. My hands, my entire body trembled, and hopelessness raced through my mind. Nothing was working out. I’d already forgotten to pick up the drinks on Nanny’s list. The menu was too complicated. And now...
I moaned aloud.
“Hey, are you all right?”
Startled, I looked up.
Jarret stood over me with his head titled and one hand stuffed in the front pocket of his faded designer jeans. He crouched, the big ugly mess between us. “Let me get that.” He picked up a piece of glass and dropped it into the bag. “Hey, you’re bleeding.” I thought he meant my hand, but he stared at my knees.
I had knelt in the middle of the salsa and applesauce. And broken glass. Most of the red on my dress came from the salsa but—Oh! A patch of dark red.
“Blood,” I whispered, my mind numb with frustration.
He grabbed my arms and pulled me up. “Go take care of that. Get washed up. I’ll clean this. It’s no big deal.”
How could he be so nice? We
hadn’t spoken in days.
Still sniffling, I shuffled to my room and peeled off my wet, disgusting dress. After taking the fastest shower I could and sticking Band-Aids to my knee, I slipped into a clean dress and stood before the mirror.
The white, sleeveless sundress flattered my thin, shapeless figure. I hated that I’d picked the dress to look good for Jarret. Why should I have feelings for him? He wasn’t my type.
I returned to the kitchen as Jarret closed the door of the broom closet. The floor was spotless and completely dry. Only the dishtowel lay on the floor. Had he used it to finish up? A dishtowel? Why not a cleaning rag from under the sink? Still, he’d done this for me.
I stepped to the counter and stood in the exact spot where I had dropped the jars. “Thank you,” I whispered, so grateful I could burst.
He came up beside me and grabbed a notepad and pen from a drawer. “You need salsa and applesauce. What else?”
Melting at his kindness, my heart spiraled out of control. I loved him. I could no longer pretend I didn’t. Unable to control myself, I threw my arms around his neck and pressed my lips to his. Warmth. Longing. Love. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer. My heart pounded. A faint moan escaped me. I kissed him with a passion I never knew I had, the passion of a love too long suppressed.
A low voice came from the hall. We pulled away from each other. Jarret snatched the pen and leaned over the notepad. Mr. West came around the corner, holding a cell phone to his ear. He gave us a casual nod.
“So, what else do you need at the store?” Jarret appeared calm except for the base of his neck, which throbbed with the beating of his heart. He loved me too.
“Um, um...” I wiped my mouth, intensely aware of the impression of his kiss, and ran a hand through my hair. It wasn’t as easy for me to compose myself as it seemed to be for him.
He scribbled something on a scrap of paper and placed it in my hand.
“That’s my number. Call me when you think of what you need.” He gave me a slight smile and held my gaze until his father turned around from the refrigerator.
I nodded and watched Jarret leave through the side door, excitement, longing, and fear racing through my veins. And the conviction that my life would never be the same.
“Get a wet washcloth.” It was Candice’s voice.
I sat on the couch. Sean squatted nearby but jumped up at Candice’s order.
“Are you okay?” Candice sat beside me, deep concern in her Nancy Drew eyes. “I think you blacked out for a minute there.”
“Don’t worry about the mess.” Adeline sauntered from the dining room and spoke over the loveseat. She pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “I have Mitch cleaning it up.”
“Thanks a lot.” Mitch’s sarcastic voice came from the kitchen. “Just what I wanted to do. I get invited to a...”
“Mr. West uses plastic grocery bags...” Bobby’s voice also came from the kitchen. “... whenever he cleans up after Mrs. West’s accidents.” A cabinet door squeaked. Bobby must’ve been helping.
“And don’t worry about the salsa.” Adeline propped her hands on the back of the loveseat and grinned. “I sent Victor to the store.”
“Victor?” I smiled. Victor. I understood why Victor hated the abortion case. Several years ago, he’d tried to fight an abortion provider in Arizona. His own underage daughter had made a mistake and suffered greatly for it. The abortion provider won and, in the process, tore his family apart. Victor lost his wife and daughter through the destructive tactics of the abortion provider’s lawyers. He shared this with me one night while on a covert surveillance operation, during the long hours of waiting and watching in a dark van.
Sean returned with a washcloth and handed it to Candice. Sean. I never realized he’d a crush on me until last Friday, even after he kissed me on that undercover assignment. I had only thought he was a nice, sensitive, “slightly obsessed with investigative equipment” sort of guy.
Sean’s surfer-boy gaze flitted from me to Candice and then to Adeline. Adeline stepped around the loveseat and took him by the hand. “Come on, Sean, let’s give her some space.” She led him to the dining room.
“What happened there?” Candice pressed the washcloth to my forehead.
“I, well, when I dropped the salsa... I think I got my memory back.”
I remembered vividly our first kiss. I remembered what happened after, how Jarret had called me from the store and I tried to apologize for kissing him. He wouldn’t let me.
“You’re not gonna erase it. It happened. It was good. You like me and I like you.”
We didn’t kiss again the entire two weeks Selena and her family visited, but we did everything together.
“Your memory?” Candice said. “A particular memory?”
I realized I was smiling. “No, all of it.”
I remembered going to college with Roland, meeting Ling-si, and working that summer for Nanny at the West house. I remembered first laying eyes on Jarret when he dragged his luggage into the foyer, and his arrogant attitude. I remembered him coming home drunk and noticing me in the shadows of the foyer, then lying beside him in his bed, stroking his hair and singing to him.
How peaceful he had looked when he’d drifted off to sleep, peaceful like a sleeping lion. I’d felt sorry for him then, sorry that he seemed so sad, that he still mourned the loss of his mother, that he probably missed his twin brother, and maybe felt alone in the world. I made a personal commitment to treat him with kindness no matter how rude he might get. I hadn’t expected to fall in love with him, but over the days, that’s what happened. He brought me into the intimacy of his inner world and there I felt uniquely loved, needed, and special. There I wanted to remain.
My mind lingered on the memory of his proposal. He’d stopped my swing and dropped down on one knee. I first thought he needed to tie his shoe, but the nervousness in his eyes told me otherwise. As he proposed, my heart, mind, and body turned into a feather, so light I could have floated away.
Our engagement lasted one year, its length intensified by the few visits we shared: Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter holidays. I had returned to South Dakota University to complete my associate’s degree, and he’d gone back to Arizona to get his bachelor’s. We talked to each other and sent emails every day.
My parents weren’t comfortable with either my decision to marry Jarret or my career choice, but after many discussions, they supported me. We married last summer at St. Michael Church and held the wedding reception on the Wests’ property. It was beautiful. How could I have ever forgotten it?
“How do you feel? Do you want a drink of water?” Candice refolded the washcloth and pressed it to my forehead again.
I smiled and pushed the washcloth away. “I’m fine.” I was more than fine. I remembered it all! Every memory of every event of the past few years had returned to me.
“You like Victor, don’t you?”
“Caitlyn!” Candice shook her head, the look in her eyes saying she wanted to keep it secret. “I’m glad you’re feeling fine. I’ll get you something to drink.” She jumped up.
I laughed. Then the front door flew open. Jarret was home! Roland followed him into the house, gave me a nod, and headed to the dining room.
Jarret stepped into the living room and looked at me with a question in his eyes. “What’s with all the cars in the—”
His eyes shifted to Sean, who stood in the dining room sipping a drink. Roland came up to Sean and the two started talking.
“What’s he doing here?”
I got up. “My, but don’t I have a jealous husband.” Not sure how to tell him that my memory returned, I gave him a sly grin and sauntered to him. “Don’t you know I love you?”
I pulled him close and gave him a little kiss, contemplating how I had fallen in love with him twice. I gazed into his gorgeous brown eyes. He gazed back with love but also with the protective, jealous undertone that had always amused me.
“How was work tod
ay?” I asked.
“Ahhh...” He shook his head and broke away from my embrace. Then he gave Sean a narrow-eyed glance and scanned the red-pepper lights before returning his attention to me. “I got the project wrapped up. But, uh, they don’t want me coming back.”
“What?” My happy mood shattered. “Why? Are you fired?”
“On leave until they clear up the situation with the stolen artifacts.” He gazed at the red-pepper lights again and rubbed his unshaven chin.
Candice carried two wine glasses toward us and, judging by her knitted brows, she’d heard what he said. “What about the evidence against Mike? They found particles of that clay pot in his doctor bag.”
She handed a deep red, fragrant drink to Jarret and one to me. Adeline had called it “Jamaica” (pronounced ha-mike-ah) and said it was made from hibiscus flowers.
“Now that I think about it.” I glanced from Candice to Jarret. “I should’ve been suspicious from the start. It wasn’t a doctor’s visit, so it didn’t make sense for him to have the bag or to take it into the den. He only offered to examine me as an afterthought.”
Jarret’s eyes twitched. “He examined you?”
“Only the baby. I heard the baby’s heartbeat.” I rubbed his arm, feeling something of the excitement I’d felt then. “You should hear it. Come with me on my next baby appointment.”
His expression melted. “You want me to?”
“And Mike’s motive...” Candice said. “It’s a good thing you had that recording device. He completely spelled out his motive and his plan.” Her forehead wrinkled. “Why did you have that anyway? Did you suspect him?”
“No. I didn’t know he was coming over. I accidentally brought the pen home.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you did. And when Melinda finally told the truth—”
“Can you believe it?” Sean approached.
Jarret snatched my hand possessively. “I thought Melinda denied knowing Mike.”
“She did,” Sean said, “until she was told about the necklace, you know, that it was a stolen artifact. Boy, was she mad. Hell hath no fury...” He grinned and gave Jarret a look of camaraderie.
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