He was open and Jagger gasped for air. He reached for Saint’s hand that rested upon him. He held on, feeling like a wounded infant. He looked up to find Saint observing him with concern and possibly pity on his face. And he glowed…The smoke never touched one hair on the man’s head. He was framed in the fog as he stood there, shimmering like a damn star…
Saint slowly slid his hand away and helped him up.
“You okay, man?” he asked quietly as if nothing out the ordinary had happened.
“Yes,” was all Jagger could muster.
Saint slowly turned his back and disappeared back into the curtain of haze. Jagger assumed he’d returned to his desk. He steadied himself and waved about in the air, breathing a heavy sigh of relief when the mist once again cleared.
He wasn’t sure what to say or what had exactly happened. He simply knew he felt fear…and unbelievable rage because there was nothing he could do to stop it. He made his way back to the fallen chair, picked it up and slumped down in it, cupping his forehead, eyes closed. His heart beat so loud, he could hear it in his ears.
He could hear Saint typing on his computer. The clicking sound mingled with the now subdued hum of the music.
“So,” Saint said. “You let me know how and when you want to do it, and I’ll be there if you need me. Like I said, I’ll make sure Xenia is as well. She might be able to help Traci understand it a little better than we can, since she was once in her shoes. At this point, we have to kind of treat it like an intervention.”
Jagger opened his eyes and found Saint staring at him.
“If she is the one, and I suspect she is, she won’t leave you, Jagger. The woman for you won’t leave you because of this, Jagger. You have to trust me on this. I’ve been down this road, man.”
“Told my ex-wife.” Jagger looked down at his shoes and smirked. “Told ‘er and she didn’t believe me, said I was crazy and had post traumatic stress disorder from the military, and being around death so much. I never brought it up again…but then, after I found out my son wasn’t biologically mine, I…I…”
Saint clasped his hands together, looking serious. “You what, Jagger?”
Was this the same man? His voice was so soothing, so calming, like a soft lullaby. Just moments prior, Saint screamed at him so loud, he made the music when he’d first entered the room sound like a whisper. Now, he had this unbelievable calming affect ever since Jagger had his nervous breakdown, right there in his office. It was truly as if it almost never happened, like Saint had a huge eraser, and worked to move Jagger’s distress out of sight, and out of mind. His movements, everything about him made him relax. Jagger’s eyelids got heavier and heavier… He fought the sandman and stayed on task.
“I became angry, and…I’m not sure what happened, but she screamed. Any chance I had of getting her back, of fixing our marriage, was ruined at that moment. It’s like I turned into the incredible Hulk. Once the dust settled, our house had over eighteen holes punched clean through the walls. I did all of that in less than sixty seconds, to keep from touching her, from taking my anger out on her. I’m not a woman beater.” He looked at Saint, offering sincerity. “I saw that growing up. Always feared I’d turn out just like my old man…and in that instant, I felt for the first time I could understand how a man who loved a woman could hurt her. I never understood it before that, but at that moment…at that moment, I understood it completely. And I hated myself for understanding the temptation!” His voice wavered.
“And now you’re afraid that when you tell Traci, she will respond in the same fashion as your ex-wife.” Saint leaned back in his chair, stretched and placed his arms behind his head.
Jagger nodded, peering at the man in front of him. He got a slight whiff of his Saint’s cologne, and the scent of rain. He looked at the window. Yes, it had begun to sprinkle outside.
“It’s going to be okay, man…”
Jagger nodded again, not so sure, but wanting so desperately for Saint’s words and reassurance to be true. Regardless, he knew Saint was right. He was madly in love with Traci, and she deserved the truth, even if it cost him everything…
~***~
CHAPTER NINE
Xenia ran her fingers through Isis’ hair, keeping her close like a blanket that offered protection. She’d texted Saint, her nerves frazzled. He responded he was talking with Jagger and would be home soon. Hassani leaned against the couch where his grandfather sat, in their home. The man looked around, a proud smile on his face. Xenia had hated the man for years. Porsche, her sister, was the only one willing to have anything to do with him. Years had passed with no contact, and she was fine with that, until she looked in the damn man’s eyes and saw a tiny piece of her soul…
Dakarai walked into the room, gripping a messy peanut butter and honey sandwich.
That boy stays hungry. He just ate dinner. She grinned.
The boy’s mouth full, he looked at the man on the couch and said what had already been established during their meal.
“You Mommy’s daddy?”
“Dakarai, I already answered that earlier,” Xenia responded.
She hated when her child did that. It reminded her of Saint, the way he’d state the obvious and then launch into an attack. She knew something was getting ready to come out of that boy’s mouth that she didn’t like or want. Too much like his father…
“That’s right young man! I’m your grandfather,” he said with a smile.
“I already got a grandfather…” Dakarai took another messy bite of his sandwich; a sticky dollop of honey clung to the corner of his mouth as he chewed. “He live in Nork,” he said, his voice muffled from a large mouthful of soft wheat bread and sticky peanut butter.
“New York,” Xenia corrected softly.
“Well, now you have two!” Her father chuckled.
“If you Mommy’s daddy, why come, why come we never see you?” The little boy scratched his nose, leaving behind a breadcrumb. “I thought daddies are with their seeds? You can’t be no real daddy and not with seeds. That’s what my daddy says.”
Oh Lord Jesus!
Hassani remained quiet, much to her amazement. Xenia kept moving her fingers and Isis squirmed, as if warning her mother, if she kept this up, she was going to rub her poor little scalp raw, leaving her bald as an eagle.
“Uh…seeds?” her father questioned as he sunk uncomfortably on the couch, as if he were being swallowed by the damn thing.
“Yeah, that is what my daddy call us.” He pointed to his chest proudly. “He say, ‘Me, ’Sani and Isis is his seeds and when you plant seeds, you gotta be there and help ’em grow right ’cause if the flower end up without enough light or not enough water, it’s tha daddy fault.”
“Um, Dakarai, honey, that’s not exactly how your father explained it, but anyway, can you get your toys up in your room? It’s way past your bedtime anyway. So pick them up, wash your face and hands, and get in the bed after you’re finished.”
“Awwww, Mommy, I wanna—”
“Dakarai,” she warned with her tone, her eyes narrowed on him. The boy huffed, turned on his heels and made his way up the steps. “Hassani, you too.”
“Mommy! I didn’t do nothin’! Can’t I stay up a little longer? And I don’t have toys on my floor!”
“Well damn it, put some down there and pick ’em back up then! Now go!” She pointed toward the steps.
I’m losing it…
She saw the wounded look in her eldest son’s dark brown eyes, and it hurt her that she was the cause of it.
“Hassani, baby, come here.” The boy slowly rose from his seat on the arm of the couch and walked to her, his head down, looking glum. “Honey, Mommy is sorry she snapped at you.” She grabbed him and hugged tightly then released him and looked into his eyes. “It’s just been a long day. You’ve had dinner, got your book read for school, and you need to go to sleep. Look how late it is. Mommy just needs a few moments alone with your grandfather, okay? I will tuck you and your brother in af
ter he leaves.” She reached toward him and ran her hand over his tiny shoulder. Hassani nodded in understanding, turned away and went up the winding steps, back hunched, head low.
“So,” her father smiled at her as he ran his hands up and down his thighs, “thank you for having me over for dinner, Xenia. That was really nice of you…getting to meet your children. I appreciate it.”
She smiled weakly and nodded. “You’re welcome.”
“I can’t believe that…after all this time you didn’t even know where I lived.” His eyes seemed filled with despair. “Porsche never told you? I talk to her at least three times a month or so.”
“Daddy,” Xenia repositioned Isis on her lap, “I told my sister years ago to not tell me a single thing about you, and I meant that. I didn’t care where you lived. I was filled with so much anger toward you, and,” she hesitated, “I still am, but you’re here, so…” She shrugged, looking away from him.
“Well,” he said, his voice lowered. “I can understand that. I wasn’t a good father. I’ll be the first to admit that. But, I want to be back in your life, Xenia. Your brother, your sister, all three of you… I want my family back.”
Xenia scratched under her eye, trying to find her voice, trying to find the words. Her heart was still shut off and what scared her most was, as she sat there, she tried with all her might, to feel something, yet even the anger she harbored for so many years was no longer within her grasp at that moment. Something was happening. She’d turned to stone. She felt nothing at all but utter confusion. She sighed with relief as she heard the garage door closing.
Oh thank God…He’s home. A break from this craziness.
“Uh, Daddy, my husband just arrived. Looks like you’ll get a chance to finally meet him.”
Saint walked in, his eyes tired. A reddish sheen, as if they were drowning in pink lemonade, dulled their usual vibrancy. His hair was ruffled, looking like an accidental faux hawk. His light lavender shirt was slightly wrinkled and he looked like the world had uprooted, chased him down an alley and set its big ass right on his broad shoulders. He stopped short and looked into the living room. Blank. Dead. His gaze had no life. Placing his hand on his hip as he looked at her father, his expression remained unreadable. He didn’t look shocked, happy, or upset. He just stood there and glowered.
“Baby.” Xenia stood and her father followed suit, removing his hat once more and cradling it humbly in his brown hands over his groin. “This is my father.”
She waited for a response, and received none.
“He came to the show today—was out in the audience. I invited him over. He stayed for dinner, and we talked.”
Saint sneered. Coming to life, his nostrils flared and his lips drooped downward as he ran a palm across the slight stubble on his cheek.
What the hell! Why does he look like a growling dog?!
“Saint, did you hear me, honey?”
Saint ran his fingers through his hair and nodded, briefly turning away and looking to the ground as if he’d noticed a roach scurry by. “Yeah.” He walked toward her, swag in his step, keeping his eye on the man as he leaned in close and kissed Xenia on the cheek, then the top of Isis’ head.
“Where are my sons? Asleep, I presume?” he asked gruffly, still staring the man down.
“They just went to their rooms and should be in their beds by now.”
“Um, Saint, I’m Henry, Henry Donnellson.” Henry extended his hand, showing that warm, nurturing smile once again.
“Yeah, I know who you are...” Saint turned away from him and took his daughter from Xenia’s grip. He held the baby close, cradling her small head against his chest.
I can’t believe he is acting like this!
“Pleased to meet you,” her father added as he slowly lowered his arm back to his side after the obvious rejection.
“Wish I could say the same.”
“Saint!”
“No, it’s okay, Xenia,” her father said with a wave of his hand. “The man obviously loves you and he is just doing what a lot of husbands would do. He has probably been told bad things about me, so,” he shrugged, “I’m not surprised about this response. It’s an honest response.”
“Honesty…” Saint let the word drip off his tongue as he nestled his daughter in the crook of his neck, supporting her with his forearm. The baby seemed to fall asleep right in her father’s protective embrace. He ran his hand slowly up and down her back as she coo’ed, her eyes fluttering before giving in to the temptation of a sweet slumber. “Stop speaking about me in third person. I’m standing right here,” Saint barked.
Xenia shot him a death glare, and she meant it. They stared at one another until Saint cleared his throat, and slightly lowered his head.
“I apologize, Mr. Donnellson.” Saint sighed. “I just wasn’t expecting you and it’s been a rather difficult day.” He sighed as he delicately twirled a thick black strand of hair from Isis’ scalp. “I tell you what, let’s arrange to have dinner, all of us, sometime soon. My schedule will be a little less hectic and I’d like to sit down and chat with you.”
Xenia exhaled in relief as she crossed her arms and offered them both a smile.
“Oh, yes of course, I’d really like that and I accept your apology.” He extended his hand once more. Saint grasped it and Xenia watched as her husband’s face distorted, as if he smelled something rotten, something fermenting into a moldy, rancid thing discarded in a city dump.
“Well, okay, great.” Xenia nervously clasped her hands together, eager to break up whatever tension was mounting. “Daddy, let me walk you to the door and see you out.”
“Nice to meet you, Saint,”
Saint nodded and made his way toward the steps, disappearing without saying another word. A door opened seconds later it closed.
He must’ve put Isis in her crib and is going to tuck the boys in…
“He is nicer than that, Daddy. He must’ve had a really hard day.”
Her father threw up his hand and shook his head. “No, baby. It’s fine. The man reacted the way he should have.” He laughed. “I pop up on the scene and well, things like this happen. Hopefully, with time, he and I will get along just fine.”
Xenia had her doubts. Instead of focusing on her concerns, she offered a sweet nod in his direction, glanced up the stairwell then back at her father. They spoke for a few more minutes about nothing in particular, nothing that would cause an avalanche of emotion. Just ordinary, generic conversation topics that helped her stay detached.
“I’ll be in touch, Daddy. We will have a big dinner soon to talk more, as Saint suggested—better than the Cobb salads I whipped together at the last minute,” Xenia said as she stood at the front door, her father beyond the threshold with their vast front yard as his backdrop.
Smells like rain…
“It was delicious and thank you. I look forward to getting to know your family, Xenia. Your children, my grandchildren, are just perfect. And, your husband, well,” he grinned from ear to ear, “I had no idea you were married to someone so well to do!” He rocked back on his heels, his smile growing increasingly wider. He slid his hands in his pockets as he took another gander at the big house with its marble floors and expensive craftsmanship.
I’m glad Porsche kept that to herself…but I have a hard time believing he didn’t know who Saint was…
She knew her father better than that. Despite the years that had passed with no contact, she knew the man well. She didn’t get her nosiness out of thin air; she inherited it honestly and it had its perks. It made her great at her job but her father had a reputation for knowing things sometimes before anyone else on the block did, a knack she used to admire until she discovered it was being utilized to terrorize others versus uplift them. Being still a child, she’d given him a pass. After all, if he didn’t keep his finger on the pulse and on the trigger, it may have cost him his life.
“Well, he works hard, and he gets compensated for that. We both do.”
&nbs
p; “Of course…well, give me a call.” He leaned in close to her and hugged her briefly before making his way to his car and driving off. Xenia closed the large double front doors. The house suddenly seemed cold and lonely. She rubbed her arms and headed swiftly up the staircase, too tired to fight with Saint about his behavior but knew he would have the nerve to get smart as soon he looked into her eyes…
~***~
Twenty minutes later…
“I don’t like him.” Saint marched out the shower, a thick black towel wrapped around his waist and his body still damp. He focused on Xenia as she sat at the vanity, glancing lazily in the mirror. She hooked her finger in the heel of her shiny black peep-toe platforms and let the shoes fall to the floor with a thud. She ran a hand over her reddened feet and massaged first one, then the other, feeling at the end of her tether after this emotional day.
“Saint, you’re being silly. You haven’t even really met the man. But,” she shrugged, weariness bearing down on her, “I don’t like him much either. But I’m trying to be an adult about this. You know, I’ve been thinking about the kids regarding him. It was ironic. It isn’t fair for them to not have both of their grandfathers in their life if that is what he wants. Just because I’ve got issues with him doesn’t mean they have to suffer because of it.”
“If you don’t trust him, then why should I trust him around our family?”
“Then why did you invite him to dinner?” Bite was in her tone. He wasn’t trying to upset her, but after dealing with Jagger’s volatile behavior and coming home and seeing that man standing there, he’d had enough excitement and surprises to last him a long while. Still, there was no need for the two to argue. None of this was their fault
“I don’t know what it is.” He flung the towel onto the bed, exposing his semi-erect manhood. “It’s just something about him.” Grabbing his deodorant, he applied it liberally beneath each arm.
“You’re just tainted from what I’ve told you about him, just like he said. I can’t say I blame you, but at least give him a chance first before you make up your own opinion. The man could’ve changed.” She slumped on her seat, her heart just not in the words—and they both knew it. Xenia was selling a bill of goods, and he wasn’t buying. Nevertheless, he continued to listen. “…And you look terrible! What the heck happened at work tonight?” She stood and entered the bathroom, keeping the door wide open as they continued their dialogue. For a few moments, he observed her remove her clothing then slid under the covers, butt naked, his muscles tense, and feeling fatigued beyond belief.
Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father Page 25