Bridge to Fruition

by Laurie Larsen

  “Of course! The fashion mogul.”

  Jasmine chuckled. “Yes, and I want to thank you. You evidently made an impression on your friend, Tessa. I got an interview request from Henderson-Cloy.”

  “Wow! That was fast. But hold on here. It wasn’t me who made an impression on Tessa. It was you. When I sent you her email address, you sent her your photos and video. When she reviewed them, she called me. She was raving. They evidently have an opening in their Broadway division. They are shorthanded and don’t have a huge budget. They need to hire a newbie without much experience – they can’t afford an established name right now. But it’s been so long since they’ve recruited straight out of college, they had no idea where to start. Then we placed your wonderful portfolio right into Tessa’s hands. If she could’ve kissed me long distance, she would’ve.”

  Jasmine felt faint. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I do! Tell them you’ll be there ASAP to interview. And tell them you’re the perfect one to fill their opening. In fact, you’ll barely need to tell them. Your photos speak for themselves. Good job, girl. The Big Apple is waiting for you.”

  Her head was spinning and she forced herself to sit down and think. Her eyes roamed over the email again. “Okay, whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. I should probably call Tessa. But her name’s nowhere on this email.”

  “Sure. Give her a call; maybe she’ll give you some pointers.”

  Jasmine gulped a deep breath. “Roxanne. Thank you. So much.”

  “Pay it forward, baby. Go forth and prosper. Meanwhile, I’ll go back to my sunbathing.”

  * * *

  The interview was set. Jasmine called Tessa, thanked her for the help, and listened to all kinds of tips about the company, the type of work, the interviewers, their expectations. Armed with all kinds of inside info, Jasmine scanned the internet to research Henderson-Cloy’s history, their clients, their products, their stock, their financials. She had the luxury of an inside contact, and if she weren’t successful in landing this job, with all this help, how could she ever succeed in landing a job with any other company?

  Her dad quizzed her at night with the flashcards she’d made with facts about the company and information provided by Tessa. She reviewed her own fashion projects and photos over and over until she could see them clearly with her eyes closed. She thought about her own goals and motivations for her career and put them into words, practicing them over and over until they made sense.

  “Finding a job is such hard work,” she lamented to her dad.

  “Yes, it is. But this one will be the hardest. Your first. Once you get your foot in the door and you gain experience, the next ones will be much easier.”

  Her dad insisted on her arriving in New York the day before the interview and he handed her his credit card to pay for her hotel room. “You don’t want to be stressed out from driving into the city, and going straight to your interview. Drive up the day before, get your bearings, review your notes. You’ll be much better prepared to put your best foot forward.”

  He was being such a gem, and he obviously wanted to help her succeed. “You might want to bring someone with you,” he suggested. “Someone to help you navigate and find your way. Also, there’s safety in numbers in the city.”

  That’s when it hit her. “Do you mind if I invite Dax to come with me? He’s in Ithaca, which is only a few hours away.”

  Dad turned his head, studied her for a moment. “That may not be a bad idea.”

  Jasmine’s heart warmed. Of course, she was an adult and didn’t need his permission to take Dax with her. On the other hand, she didn’t want to disappoint him by taking her boyfriend. Although Dad had made an immoral decision in his own life, she hoped he trusted her to make moral decisions in hers.

  She jumped up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Daddy.”

  He patted her cheek with his hand. “You’re going to knock it out of the park, sweetheart.”

  She called Dax and told him all the progress on preparing for her interview.

  “You sound ready. Good for you.”

  “So, I have a question for you. Would you be willing to come to New York with me?”

  “When?”

  “Day after tomorrow. You take a train into the city and I’ll meet you at Grand Central Station. We check into our hotel. Hang out, then spend the night. I go to my interview the next day.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “You can get off work?”

  “Tomorrow I’ll work on clearing my schedule.”

  Her heart jumped. “Great! I’ll be so glad to have you there. And, just so you know, my dad thought it was a good idea for you to go with me.”

  “Your private bodyguard.”

  “Yes. I’m safe with you.”

  “Hmmmm.”

  “Dax, when you get to the central terminal, look for the Pegasus constellation. I’ll be standing underneath it.”

  “The what?”

  “Grand Central has a historic mural painted on its ceiling. Look up for the flying horse. That’s our meeting point.”

  * * *

  At eight o’clock at night, six days after she’d sent a Private Message to Fran Chambers, the Private Message notification dinged. Jasmine had progressively obsessed over it for days, worked to put it out of her mind, determinedly ignored it, and finally, forgot all about it. Until it dinged.

  Then it all came flooding back.

  She pulled out her phone and read the message. “Yes, I know the girl who gave up the baby in Pittsburgh nearly fifty years ago. She was one of my best friends from high school.”

  Jasmine waited for a second message. There had to be one. Someone wouldn’t just write a cliffhanger like that and think that was the end of it.

  Evidently, Fran would.

  After a tortuous four-minute wait, Jasmine wrote, “I’d love to talk to you about this. Could I give you a call?”

  Fran responded with a phone number. Jasmine punched it into her cell. The “hello” on the other end sounded a little brittle.

  “Hi, Fran.” Jasmine’s heart was racing, resulting in a pounding in her ears that she hoped wouldn’t impede her hearing. “This is Jasmine Malone.”

  “So you would be Crystal’s granddaughter.”

  Jasmine gasped. This was happening. Her grandmother had a name. “Crystal? Crystal is her name?”

  “Yes.”

  A million thoughts ran through her head, leaving bits of coherency behind. This was the answer to the mystery. Or, the woman was a fraud, feeding her incorrect information. Or, there was more than one Phone Booth Baby in Pittsburgh, and this was the wrong one.

  Or, this was the answer to the mystery. How would she ever find out if she didn’t settle down and talk to this woman?

  “So, if you don’t mind, tell me the story of Crystal and her baby.”

  “We were sixteen. We were in the musical at school together. Crystal and I both loved theater, and we were both going to graduate from high school and go to New York to become professional actresses. I mean, that was our dream. Anyway, we had tried out for the high school musical, and we were in rehearsals. Two weeks before opening night, Crystal couldn’t hold back her tears onstage. The director forced her backstage and told her to get control of herself. I was worried about her, and followed her off. That’s when she told me. She was pregnant.”

  Jasmine exclaimed, “Sixteen?”

  “Yes. And we went to a conservative school in a time when that was frowned upon, to say the least. I asked her what she was going to do, and she had no idea. She didn’t want to tell her parents, but she was going to have to. There was no choice but to have the baby, and she couldn’t do it alone.

  “She was far enough along that her costumes weren’t going to fit. They could be altered, but it was about to become obvious. She’d hidden it for months. But she couldn’t hide it any longer. Ultimately, she told her parents and although they were not happy, they let her drop out of school till after the
baby was born. They told her from the beginning they would not allow her to keep the baby, and they would not raise her child. So Crystal had it in her mind that she’d have the baby, then give it up for adoption.

  “By the time the baby was born, her emotions had gotten a little twisted. When she went into labor, she was home alone. The baby was born about four hours later in the bathtub. That little girl had that baby all by herself. She never even called her parents for help.”

  “How awful.” Jasmine, at twenty two, couldn’t imagine doing that. Let alone when she was sixteen.

  “When her parents got home, Crystal’s mother broke down in tears. She wanted to comfort Crystal and help her take care of the baby. But her dad didn’t want to risk that the two women would get emotionally attached and want to keep her. He separated the women from the baby and took care of her himself, all night.”

  Jasmine brushed something from her cheek and was mildly surprised to see that tears covered them. She sniffed. This was her mother they were talking about – the baby in question. This poor, confused girl was her grandmother. Her heart was heavy and she felt just horrible for Crystal.

  “When the morning arrived, Crystal woke up and snuck into her parents’ room. She took the baby, wrapped her up and left before they even awoke. She walked to the bus stop and took the early bus into the city. She knew she couldn’t keep the baby; she couldn’t take care of her, and she didn’t want to. But she didn’t want her parents, her father particularly, to win on this one. Her parents had arranged to take the baby to the hospital and meet with the nuns and sign the baby over for adoption. But she wanted to take this matter into her own hands. It wasn’t smart, and it wasn’t right, but she did it her own way, not her parents’ way.

  “She got downtown and the baby woke up and started crying. She had no experience with babies, and had no idea what to do. She didn’t know how to feed her, or even what babies ate. I mean, she knew nothing, the poor child! She thought if she got the baby to the hospital, they’d help her. They wouldn’t let a baby die. But then it started raining. The baby, wrapped in a bath towel, was getting wet. Crystal looked around and saw a phone booth. She went in there and closed the door. It was shelter from the storm.

  “In that phone booth, is the first time she’d actually held her daughter, comforted her, sang her a song, talked to her, got her to stop crying. It was the first time she’d acted like a mother. The first time she felt like a mother. She knew she wouldn’t be a mother for long because she was too young, and didn’t have the means to raise this beautiful little girl. But there was something special about this little place. It’s where she and her daughter bonded.”

  Jasmine sobbed. She was crying openly.

  “Oh sweetie, don’t cry. It all turned out okay in the end, didn’t it?”

  Jasmine took a moment to pull herself together. “Yes.”

  “Your mother got adopted by a nice family, lived a good life?”

  “Yes, she did. She’s still happy and healthy and in love.”

  “Oh, that’s good to hear.”

  “Fran, thank you so much for telling me this story. Don’t take this the wrong way, but is it true? This isn’t a hoax, is it? I mean I guess if it was a hoax, you wouldn’t tell me, right?”

  Fran chortled. “I know exactly why you’re asking that. It’s a deceptive world out there, and you don’t know who you can trust. I know you don’t know me from Adam, but I swear to you that I’m telling you the truth. The Pittsburgh papers caught wind of the story and put Crystal’s baby in the spotlight for about a week. The Phone Booth Baby mystery. But I was the only one who knew, except of course for Crystal and her parents. And they sure weren’t going to say anything.

  “Crystal begged me not to say a word, and of course, I didn’t. It wasn’t my story to tell, not back then. In fact, I’ve never told a single living soul that story until right now.”

  “Why me?” Jasmine asked, then regretted her bold question. She owed her gratitude to this woman. If Fran hadn’t contacted her, she’d still be in the dark.

  “I just got a feeling. I’m only on Facebook once a week, when I go to the library. I don’t have internet where I live. Your post showed up on my Newsfeed and it was a blast from the past. I figured if it had broken the odds by reaching me, it must have been destined to reach me. I said a quick prayer to the Almighty and asked His guidance. I felt such an overwhelming sense of well-being, right away. That’s when I sent you the note. I felt like God wanted me to reach out to you. Of course, I didn’t see your response till my next weekly library visit. So here we are.

  “You probably wonder if you can trust me. If you can believe this story. I want to assure you, you can.”

  Jasmine took a shaky breath. It was a nice sentiment, but even scammers tell their victims that they can trust them.

  “Want to know why I say that, child?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Because sometimes I go by another name, other than Fran Chambers. I go by Sister Mary Francis.” Her words ended with laughter.

  “You’re a nun?” Jasmine exclaimed.

  “Yes, I am.”

  Jasmine laughed.

  “You can trust me.”

  They talked for several minutes about her nunship and her long career in the church. Retired now, she lived in a quiet little convent with other retired nuns, a very simple life, but one she treasured.

  “So, whatever happened to Crystal?” Jasmine asked, her curiosity in this amazing story mounting. Her family history.

  “She said a prayer over your mother, left her there in a basket and walked out. Never looked back. In fact, she went back to the bus station and took it straight to New York City.”

  “What? Why?”

  “She never spoke to her parents again. The way they handled the pregnancy and the delivery made her cut ties with them. She was unable to get over it. That day, she started a new phase of her life. She was done with who she was before. She started her new life.”

  Jasmine sat and thought about all she had heard. “Oh, my gosh, Fran, my head’s spinning with this revelation. It’s going to take me a while to absorb all this. It’s unbelievable. So, we know what happened after Crystal left her baby. Paul Mason came along, probably moments later, and found her, took her to the hospital. My grandparents adopted her a few days later. She had her happily ever after. A wonderful life.”

  Fran’s voice softened. “I’m so glad to hear that. I’m thankful for this revelation as well. We both have a reason to thank our Creator today.”

  Jasmine nodded. “So what was Crystal’s life like in New York?”

  Fran cleared her throat. “We stayed in touch for a little while. I haven’t actually talked to Crystal in decades. But she moved out there, finished high school, supported herself working odd jobs. Her love for the theater continued, and she was a very talented actress, so she managed to build up a resume in the theater. When I made my big life change and joined the convent, I lost touch with her.”

  “How old were you then?”

  “Two days after high school graduation – I was eighteen.”

  “Wow.” Jasmine imagined that was another story, but she was focused on this one first. This one that involved her own flesh and blood. Crystal was her mother’s mother. Jasmine’s grandmother. Then, “Is Crystal still alive?”

  “I don’t know for sure, dear. But I have no reason to believe she isn’t.”

  “Is she still in New York, do you know?”

  “I have no idea. But you could Google her, you know. I’m sure you’ll come up with hits. I believe she’s somewhat of a public figure.”

  Jasmine laughed. This retired nun in her sixties or seventies suggesting a Google search struck her as humorous.

  “Crystal Blair. Good luck, dear. It’s almost lights out for me. I need to go.”

  “Oh, Sister, thank you so, so much. I can’t tell you how much this means to me. God bless you and thank you.”

  Chapter Sixteen
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br />   The secret was revealed. The story of Crystal Blair consumed her, kept her awake that night, and made adrenaline pump through her veins. She stayed up late that night to research her birth grandmother and as Sister Mary Francis suspected, there was a lot of material out there. Her entire career was chronicled in various articles and news features across the internet. Crystal Blair had made a mark on the New York theater scene.

  Not necessarily as an actress. Yes, she had spent time on the stage, and doing her math, Jasmine calculated that Crystal had been a somewhat active actress from the time she was in her late teens, till her mid-twenties. At that point, she changed her focus to representing other actors. Over the next thirty years she became renowned for her very successful career as an agent to Broadway and off-Broadway stage actors. Scanning the list of clients, it was clear that she’d made a big difference for a lot of talented people.

  The articles over more recent dates were scarce. Nothing indicated Crystal’s death; however, she was probably retired or at the very least, slowed down. She did, however, still have an office address: Blair Talent Agency on Fifty Fourth Street. Jasmine wondered if she still went to work every day, or possibly stopped in to her namesake agency to check on the youngsters now running it.

  After reading every article about her grandmother presented by the Google search, Jasmine clicked on Images. The screen popped up at least twenty pictures of Crystal Blair. She leaned closer to the screen and studied them.

  They scanned at least forty years. A petite blonde, young Crystal was playing a role on stage, a profile view which made Jasmine catch her breath. Crystal could be Leslie’s twin.

  Another shot from the 1990’s after she’d moved into her agency career. She stood behind a podium giving a speech. The resemblance to her mother was remarkable.

  Jasmine opened a new window to pull up her Facebook account, and searched through for a picture of her mom. Finding a close-up shot, she dragged it and placed a picture of Crystal side by side.

  If there had been any doubt that Sister Mary Francis had made up this story, it was confirmed now. Crystal Blair was Leslie’s birth mother. Their physical similarities were uncanny.