The Wiseman Revelation (The Wiseman Series Book 2)

by Hightower, R. C.

  3) Woman in Pillay’s office

  He stared at the words, tapping the end of his pen on the pad, trying to connect the items. He drew a line between the second and third lines, trying to find any physical similarities. The woman across the street today had a small frame and very dark hair, cut short.

  The woman in Dr. Pillay’s office looked different. Her hair had been dyed a reddish brown, but the roots were dark. She was vaguely attractive in a plastic sort of way. High eyebrows, round cheeks, puffy lips. Cosmetic surgery? Botox? And she had been more formidable than the woman on the sidewalk. Taller, broader.

  He recalled the look on her face when she’d called out “William?” She’d seemed… startled? Relieved? Excited?

  Langston sat at his computer, bypassed Bronze Leaf’s firewall, and logged into the system as Dana. A few keystrokes later, Dr. Pillay’s calendar appeared. He scrolled to December 21. Dr. Pillay had had two meetings that day. One had been an early morning conference call. The other had been at two o’ clock with someone named Antoinette Grayson. While most of the people on Dr. Pillay’s calendar had contact information, the notes for Antoinette were blank.

  He checked Bronze Leaf’s directory for her name, but nothing came up, so he logged out. He visited LifeCorp’s website and trolled around for a while, but neither Antoinette’s name nor photo appeared in any of the links.

  As he typed her name into the Internet search bar, an alarm on his phone went off. He jumped so hard his knees hit the underside of his desk. He checked his phone and saw the reminder that Jade should be home by now. Rubbing his knee, he limped to the bedroom and checked himself out in the mirror. He pulled at the hem of his shirt and stuck out his chest.

  “Okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  He picked up the bouquet and walked downstairs to Jade’s apartment.

  “Hey, Langston,” she said when she opened the door. “Come on in.”

  Jade had the fireplace going, and the apartment was filled with the aroma of oranges and cloves. Her Christmas tree had been adorned with woodland creature ornaments and white lights.

  “Nice tree.”

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  “I know you’re probably packing to see your sister, but I wanted to give you these to thank you for taking me to the hospital last night.”

  “I love daisies! Thank you.” Jade took the flowers and hugged him.

  Langston momentarily stiffened in surprise when she wrapped her arms around his waist, but quickly remembered his etiquette and returned the hug, enjoying the contact. It occurred to him that it had been a very long time since a girl had touched him like this. He wanted to hold on to her for a long time, but when she let go, he followed suit.

  Jade’s apartment was set up similar to his with an open kitchen and a large marble island separating it from the living room. He followed her into the kitchen where she put the flowers in a vase and filled it with water.

  “Oh.” Langston fished in his pocket for the little packets of plant food and placed them on the counter. “The lady at the flower shop said to use this.”

  “Thanks,” Jade said, picking up one of the packets and using a pair of kitchen scissors to open it. She emptied the packet of plant food in the vase and moved the bouquet up and down to agitate the water. “I’m glad you came by.” She pushed a paper bag toward him. “I was going to bring this up to you. Hope you like soup.”

  Langston peeked in the bag and saw two large containers and a loaf of bread. “I do.”

  Jade leaned against the countertop. “Good. One is wild mushroom and the other is vegetable and rice. They were the specials at Butters today. The bread is cheese garlic chive. Put it in the oven at 350 for ten minutes.”

  “Did you make it?”

  She flipped her dark hair playfully. “Yes, indeed, and you should be happy to know I didn’t catch anything on fire this time.” They laughed. “I figured you wouldn’t want to worry about dinner today.”

  “This is really thoughtful. I appreciate it.”

  They smiled at each other.

  “How’s your arm?” Jade asked.

  “My wrist is a little tender, but nothing I can’t handle. My shoulder itches like crazy though.”

  Jade nodded and turned on the kettle. “I was about to make chai. Would you like some?”

  “Sounds good. Thanks.”

  Langston sat on a bar stool and studied Jade as she got out all of her tea accoutrements. She wore a red sweater dress that reminded him of Lieutenant Uhura from Star Trek.

  Freaking awesome, he thought.

  Nat King Cole’s “The Christmas Song” wafted from the living room, and Langston enjoyed the cozy lyrics of chestnuts roasting over an open fire. Jade sprinkled several types of crushed spices into two tea strainers. He watched her work contentedly until she placed two steaming, fragrant mugs on the island.

  He wanted to tell her how amazing he thought she was, but instead asked, “What does your family usually do at Christmas?”

  Jade’s spoon tapped against the inside of her mug as she stirred. “We used to check out my grandmom from the nursing home and take her to her church’s Nativity program. On Christmas Eve the entire family would come over—there’re a lot of us, so it’s noisy—and we’d get to open just one present. We’d all gather around the big screen and watch a National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation and A Christmas Story double feature.” Jade tapped the spoon on the edge of the cup and laid it on the counter. “My Aunt Teresa would drink too much wine and go on a rant about women’s equality and how ‘men ain’t worth two pennies,’ and my Uncle Lee would make his case for celebrating Kwanzaa, which everyone would ignore.”

  Langston laughed. “Sounds fun.”

  “It was.” Jade pressed her lips together and looked into her tea. “It was.”

  Langston knew she was thinking about her mom. “What did you do last year?”

  Jade was quiet so long, he thought she wasn’t going to answer.

  “We tried,” she said simply, not taking her eyes off the tea.

  Langston wanted to tell her she wasn’t alone. Every year, he mourned the loss of family, too: a biological mother and father he’d never known.

  “Do you believe in heaven?” he asked.

  She nodded, looking at him. “Yes. I know this doesn’t sound very Christian, but at the moment, believing in heaven doesn’t make me feel any better. I just want my mom back.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really. I’m just looking forward to seeing my cute little niece and seeing the rest of my crazy family.”

  “You’re going to have a great time.”

  She smiled at him sadly, bringing her cup to her lips and sipping. “I do believe I’ve depressed myself. Let’s talk about something else, anything else.”

  Langston cleared his throat, remembering the biking competition. “Hey, do you know that guy, G. Hunter?”

  Jade pursed her lips in thought. “The guy on the power bar commercial?”

  “No, the one on the energy drink ad… and the body spray commercial... and the protein powder commercial.”

  “Purple hair?”

  “Yep.”

  “Skateboarder, right?”

  “BMX.”

  She shrugged. “I was close.”

  Langston shifted in his seat. “What do you think of him?”

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  Langston bit his bottom lip. “Is that, you know, what girls like? What you like?” He wished he could have sucked the words back in his mouth as soon as she looked at him. “I mean, I’m just curious.”

  She cocked her head to the side, studying him. “You think that’s what I want?”

  Langston lifted his shoulder. “People seem to like him.”

  “Yeah, he really seems to like himself quite a bit. He’s nice-looking, but I don’t see how he gets through doorways with a head that big.” She picked up her spoon and stirred her tea again, not breaking eye c
ontact.

  He looked down, self-consciously, into his mug.

  “I remember seeing you at the mailboxes when I first moved in,” she said. “When you smiled at me, I thought your dimples were adorable.” She touched his cheek. “You know, you have sort of a sexy, nerd thing going on, and I like that much better than some meathead riding a bike.” Her full lips curved into a smile.

  Langston’s fingers closed around hers, and he pulled her around the island. He leaned toward Jade, kissing her tentatively. When she didn’t pull away, he slid his right arm around her, deepening the kiss. His deprived body practically shouted at him for more. Jade broke the kiss suddenly and looked down. The side of her dress was gaping open.

  “Did you unzip my dress?”

  Langston stared. “No.”

  She zipped it back up. “Weird. That zipper has never done that before.”

  Langston leaned in for another kiss when movement behind Jade caught his attention. Three potholders were rising off the counter. What the hell? They hovered for a moment before floating to the left.

  “What?” Jade asked, starting to turn around.

  Langston leaned in quickly, their lips contacting a little harder than he intended. He kissed her, hands on her waist, and turned her slightly so that the floating potholders remained at her back. Langston kept his eyes open, following the potholders that were making their way out of the kitchen and into the living room.

  Stop, stop, stop, Langston thought at the multicolored squares floating over the couch. In his concentration, Langston’s lips had stopped moving, and Jade pulled away.

  “What is it?” she asked, turning to follow his gaze.

  Langston snatched his arms from around her, and the potholders fell to the floor. Jade turned back to Langston. “What?”

  Langston pointed to the area where the potholders had floated before forcing his hand back to his side. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

  He walked out of the kitchen and then back in. He grabbed the paper bag, walked out again only to do an about-face and walk back in again. He gave her a quick kiss. “Thanks for the soup.” He left the apartment and shut the door behind him. Then he opened the door, stuck his head in, and called, “Sorry about the tea. Um, Merry Christmas.”

  Langston bypassed the elevators and ran upstairs. His willful denial couldn’t take anymore. His car keys, his office door, the gun, Jade’s zipper, the potholders.

  He was making things move, and he didn’t know how or why.

  Chapter Seven

  This Christmas, Langston’s mother Khone was hosting dinner at her house with her book club friends and Langston joined them. Betty, JoAnne, Ruth, Catherine, and Denise had moved their friendly argument of who was the greatest 20th century author to the living room for the gift exchange. Langston politely excused himself from the conversation and walked down the hall. He found his mom in the kitchen.

  She hadn’t bothered to turn on the overhead light and was silhouetted by the lone incandescent over the sink. Khone was a small Laotian woman, swinging her slight hips and humming along with “Feliz Navidad” playing on the old radio on the counter.

  “Hey, Mom,” he said from the doorway. “Need some help?”

  Khone finished loading the dishwasher with drinking glasses. “No, honey. I just wanted to get a few of these dishes out of the way.”

  He walked in and gave her a side hug because her hands were dripping from rinsing the dishes. “Dinner was great.”

  “Thank you.” She closed the dishwasher and wiped her hands on a kitchen towel. “You know I always enjoy making dinner for my Langy-poo.” She reached out and pinched his rear.

  Langston jumped. “Mom!”

  She laughed.

  Langston felt his face grow warm and was thankful for his chestnut skin and the dim lighting. He rubbed his right butt cheek. Even when it was just the two of them, Langston found her teasing profoundly embarrassing.

  “I forgot the gravy boat,” she said, pointing to the countertop beside Langston. “Hand it to me?”

  Langston reached out with his left hand and cringed. His eyes darted to his mother before he turned slightly and picked it up with his right hand. Khone narrowed her eyes at him, slowly accepting the piece of china and placing it in the sink.

  He leaned onto the counter, trying to look casual. He’d managed dinner alright, telling her that the scar on his forehead was from a windblown umbrella. However, if his mother’s expression was any indication, now the jig was up.

  Khone reached for Langston. “What’s the matter with your arm?”

  He turned away slightly. “Nothing.”

  “Something’s wrong.” She tugged on his left arm. “Let me see.”

  “Ow!”

  “What did you do?” she demanded loudly. She often fussed at him for injuring himself. “Did an umbrella do that too?”

  “I… hurt it playing basketball.”

  She attempted to pull up his sweater sleeve and he grabbed his cuff. “Basketball? You’re not good at sports! Why were you playing basketball? You’re a smart boy. You should have been at the computer!” They wrestled with his sleeve until she smacked his hand. “Let me see.”

  Langston stopped fighting and allowed her to find the bandage on his upper arm. She stood on her tiptoes, picking at the tape. Langston pulled away before she saw the wound.

  “It’s nothing. Just a little cut.”

  She pointed at him before turning away. “You hurt yourself when you try sports.”

  He shrugged. “I know.”

  Khone dug in the refrigerator and extracted half a cheesecake. She cut an abundant slice and gave it to him. “Here.”

  “I’m full.”

  “It will make you feel better.” She gave him a fork. “Sit. Eat.”

  He sat, feeling queasy at the prospect of eating one more bite of food. Khone patted his back as he methodically pierced the top of the cheesecake with his fork.

  “I don’t know why you try sports,” Khone said. “They’re not good for you.”

  “I know.” Langston heard the sound of gift wrapping tearing in the living room.

  “Sounds like they’ve already started opening their gifts,” Khone said.

  “Do you want to go open yours?”

  She shook her head. “In a minute.”

  Langston looked at the new crosshatch pattern on top of his pie slice. “I’ve… started having that dream again.”

  “What dream?”

  Langston looked at her. What dream? The nightmare had plagued him several times a month during his childhood. They’d had an entire routine. Khone would hold a cool washcloth on his forehead until he calmed from crying. Then he’d change out of his sweaty pajamas, and she’d bring him “the sweet drink”—decaf coffee with malted milk powder. Afterwards, she’d hold him as he drifted off to sleep, if he slept at all, for the rest of the night.

  Langston waited for a more appropriate response from her, but she didn’t say anything else. “The nightmare, Mom. You know the one.”

  Khone stopped rubbing his back and cleared her throat. “You said you’d stopped having it.”

  “I thought I had.”

  Langston heard Catherine’s voice wafting down the hall, followed by laughter.

  “Everybody’s opening gifts now,” Khone said. “You should go to the den. I got you something I think you’re going to like.”

  “I will, but I need to ask you about this first.”

  “I spent a lot of time picking out your gift. Now go in there and see what it is.”

  “It’s that woman again. The one on the floor who bleeds and screams, remember?” Langston tapped the edge of his plate with his fingernail. “I feel like I know her… or knew her. Is that weird?”

  “Fine, I’ll tell you. It’s a new flat screen television. The man at the store said it was the best.”

  Why is she talking about my present? “The nightmare, Mom. It’s back. Don’t you have anything to say about it?” />
  Khone raised her arms in a what-are-you-gonna-do sort of way. “It’s just a dream. It can’t hurt you.”

  Langston wasn’t so sure. He remembered how panic-stricken she used to look when he described his nightmare. She would hold him close, humming, as he sipped his sweet drink, but all the while, Langston could feel her heart racing.

  “Do you think it has something to do with my childhood?” he asked. “I mean, before you adopted me?”

  Khone turned on the kettle, then walked to the sink and started washing a plate. He watched her reflection in the window over the sink, but couldn’t make out her expression.

  “I don’t think talking about it will make it any better. Try to think of something happy. Eat your cheesecake.”

  Langston scraped the fork along the topping, creating tiny, creamy mounds against the tines. “I think there’s something wrong with me.”

  Khone froze. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with you.”

  “There must be.”

  Khone rinsed off the plate, put it in the drainer, and wiped her hands again. “Betty says Lunesta helps her sleep. Maybe you should try it.”

  “I don’t need a sleep aid.” Langston got up and leaned against the counter so he could see his mother who still hadn’t turned away from the sink, even though she was out of dishes to wash. “Are you sure you’ve told me everything about my birth parents?”

  Khone faced him. “You know we don’t know about your father.”

  “My mother then.”

  “I’ve told you everything. There is nothing else.”

  The kettle on the stove whistled. Khone moved it off the hot burner and placed several mugs on a tray.

  “Tell me again,” Langston said.

  “Honey…”

  “Tell me again, please.”

  She pointed to a cabinet. He grabbed a box of hot chocolate and handed it to her.

  She sounded exasperated. “As you already know, Celeste lived in North Carolina. She was fifteen and pregnant. The boy ran off, and she chose to have a closed adoption. The end.”

  “And you met her, right? You met her when you came to get me.”

  Khone nodded.

  “How did she seem? Normal?”

  She emptied a packet into each mug. “Normal enough for a scared teen giving away her baby.”