Bridge to Fruition

by Laurie Larsen

  The excitement in her heart popped to bursting level. This was big. This was exciting. And she’d be driving to New York tomorrow.

  She would have to stop by Blair Talent Agency. She would just have to.

  After a restless night’s sleep, Jasmine called her mother. She wasn’t sure how to tell her about her discoveries. Based on past conversations on the topic, she couldn’t expect her to be excited about the news. But maybe Leslie would surprise her.

  Sticking first to an update on her interview and travel plans, Leslie was thrilled and supportive, wishing her the best and knowing she would be successful.

  Then, “Also, Mom, I have another item on my To Do list to accomplish while I’m up there.” She launched into the story of the Facebook post that went viral, and the contact from Fran Chambers. When she started telling her Fran’s connection to the teenaged mother of a baby in Pittsburgh, Leslie stopped her. “Jasmine. I don’t like where this is going. Don’t tell me you’ve been researching the story of my birth. Please don’t tell me that, when I told you expressly that I didn’t want you to.”

  Jasmine hesitated. “Mom, I …”

  “Your job search is your priority right now. Getting your career started. That needs your full attention. Not some fifty year old newspaper clippings and your unhealthy fascination with them.”

  “I’m still doing my job search. Obviously. I have an interview in two days.”

  “But you are now distracted. This is a big break for you, Jas. Don’t blow it because you’re scatterbrained about this other thing.”

  This other thing? “Mom, you’re acting like this is just an irrelevant little diversion. This is our family history. This is important, too.”

  “No. It’s not our family history. Your grandparents are the ones who took me in when I was a few days old, and raised me as their very own. I have no interest or desire in knowing what happened with me before that. It doesn’t matter.”

  “But I do …”

  “But you shouldn’t. Forget about it. Concentrate on your job search.”

  “She looks just like you.”

  The words hung out there, unanswered. Jasmine held her breath.

  “What?” The syllable dripped with chill.

  “I found her, Mom.”

  A brushing sound came over the line. Jasmine could picture her mom rubbing her hands over her eyes as she dealt with this new nugget of information. “Jasmine …,” it was tired and resigned.

  “I know the whole story about your mother, and her decision to abandon you, and what she did next. And I have a fairly good idea of where she is now.”

  “Jasmine, I can’t. I just can’t. This isn’t right.”

  “Why? Aren’t you in the slightest bit interested in hearing …?”

  “No. My parents, Adele and Ken Somers of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, were two loving and generous and giving people who made me their own. It would be disrespectful to them to do this. They didn’t care about the circumstances of my birth. They just loved me, unconditionally. I won’t disrespect them by digging up history long buried. Where it belongs.”

  “Mommy,” Jasmine murmured. She hardly ever called her that pet name anymore, but it held meaning to them both. A mother/daughter bond was a strong thing, but especially a mother/only child bond.

  “Jas, I can’t do this. I resent the fact that you threw this on me, against my wishes. I have enough going on in my life right now. This is the absolute last thing I need.” Jasmine could tell she wanted to wrap up the phone call, pronto. “You have a safe drive, and call me when you get to New York. I wish you nothing but the best, honey, I do. But you’ve thrown me for a loop here, and I’ve got to think about this. Okay?”

  “Okay, Mom. Listen, I didn’t mean to hurt you. But this isn’t just your family story. It’s mine, too. This is my grandmother we’re talking about.”

  “What about your Grandma Somers?”

  “Yes! I love Grandma Somers. Tracking down your birth mother doesn’t impact how I feel about Grandma Somers at all. Why does one have to impact the other?”

  Leslie released a loud sigh. Then, a long pause. “I’m conflicted with this, honey. I feel like you betrayed me with this. I asked you to drop it and you went on, regardless. Now we have this … person to deal with. Whether I want it or not. I need to pray about it.”

  * * *

  Late the next afternoon, Jasmine stood in the center of Grand Central Station, and couldn’t resist a Mary Tyler Moore moment. She dipped her head back, stretched her arms out and twirled in a circle. She smiled big and laughed out loud and figured that anyone looking would take note for twenty seconds or less, shrug their shoulders and move on. New York. It was an enigma.

  She gazed up at the constellation mural painting on the vast ceiling. She remembered the Pegasus from a fifth grade fieldtrip. It had made an impression on her, and after the tour through the train station, she had come home and sought out the constellation in the night sky. She’d actually found it, or thought she had, and at any given chance, she and her mom would locate the flying horse made up of stars. Here in the station, she made her way to the wall and stepped around the perimeter, her head up, watching the mural.

  She came to a stop under the horse and almost bumped into the solid chest of a male someone. “Excuse me,” she said and darted her gaze straight into … Dax’s startled gaze. He’d been walking with his head up, too. They burst into laughter and he pulled her into his arms. She breathed in deep and buried herself in his scent of soap and sunshine.

  “Here we are,” he said softly.

  “Here we are.” She’d always been one to rush ahead prematurely, and she’d always had to school herself to take one step at a time. To let things happen as they were supposed to happen. To be patient, and not to push.

  But there was something about this moment, standing in each other’s arms in New York City on the eve of an important job interview, which could lead to permanent employment and certainly a geographic move, with this man. This particular man, no other. “I’m glad you’re here with me.” Which was true, but boy, was it an understatement. She felt certain that it would have to be Dax, not anyone else. In her mind’s eye she could picture their lives together falling into place. They move to New York, they both secure careers here, they get married, they ponder if the city is a place to raise a family.

  “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

  She laughed out loud. Yep, way ahead of herself. They were here. She’d live in that moment and not get crazy. “Let’s find our hotel.”

  They made their way, battling city traffic, directions and taxis. Close to two hours later, they received their keycard from their hotel clerk. “Enjoy your stay.”

  “Thanks,” said Jasmine and stared at the single keycard. She glanced over at Dax. He had noticed too, and was looking at the card in her hand. “Umm, I just got one room.”

  He gave her an odd look, but she didn’t know how to interpret it. It was sort of an eyebrow twitch, lopsided smile turned grimace. “Let’s go find it.”

  They took the elevator to the fourteenth floor, following the number signs till they came to it. Dax took the card and opened the door. They pulled their luggage in and looked. It was small, as many New York hotel rooms were, but it was nicely appointed and had everything they needed. Including two double beds.

  She sighed. “Can we not make the beds a weird thing?”

  He smiled. “Of course. It doesn’t have to be weird.”

  She held out a hand and he took it. She led him to the bed and they sat. “I have something to tell you. It’s an embarrassing subject to talk about, but I’m thinking it’s time. Dax, I’m …” she took a deep breath and blew it out, then pushed the words out in a huff, “I’m a virgin.”

  He nodded like it wasn’t the most unexpected thing in the world. But he didn’t say anything.

  “I’ve always wanted to wait until my wedding night to have sex with my husband. It’s important to me. But I gotta tell yo
u, it wasn’t easy to stay a virgin through college. My sorority sisters teased me, saying I was the World’s Oldest Living Virgin. But it was just my thing, you know?”

  He squeezed her hands and his lips curled into a small smile. “I understand.”

  “I want to be with you. But not like that. I’m not ready. You know?”

  He nodded. Then he kissed her, a kiss that started soft and gentle but evolved to a breathtaking, heart racing joining of lips and tongues. She pulled back from him and studied his face. “So, this news is … okay with you?”

  “Okay? Of course it’s okay. It’s great. It’s fantastic.”

  She shook her head. She’d never encountered this reaction before. Not that she’d had this conversation a hundred times, but during the few relationships she’d had in college, she’d run into the need to explain. And in those cases, the guy’s response was more an irritated rolling of the eyes, not a passionate kiss and the word fantastic. “Really? Why?” Then it dawned on her and she blurted it out before she considered better, “Are you a virgin, too?”

  He laughed. “No, no I’m not. I made some mistakes – big ones – before I learned about Christ. By then, I’d already done some things that now, I’m no longer proud of. Some things that I can’t undo – one of them was having sex with a woman who wasn’t my wife. A woman I wasn’t even in love with or committed to. But that’s the thing with Jesus. He took all our sins and paid the ultimate price for them. No matter what I did before, He loves me and He forgives me. He paid the price for what I did wrong. Now, I want to live my life to honor Him. To glorify Him. It’s not easy, and I still make mistakes every day. But He and I are going down the path together.”

  His thumb began rubbing her hand as he held her hands in both of his. “I’d been praying for God to lead me to the kind of woman I need. Someone who’s already living the kind of life I aspire to. Someone to help guide me as a Christian, and yet someone I could fall in love with. That’s when I met you. I believe God led you to me. This news? This is just confirmation that God has answered my prayer. Not only did he introduce us, not only are you a beautiful, sexy, talented woman. But you lead your life as God would have us live.”

  Her heart was pounding with the weight of his words. “Dax, I think you are giving me way too much credit. I am not perfect. Not by a long shot.”

  “Of course you’re not! You’re human. You make mistakes and God forgives you for those, too. But don’t you see? You live a moral life. You’re saving yourself for your wedding night, and that’s exactly what God asks of us all. You’re putting that into practice. I know it wasn’t easy. But regardless, you’re doing it. I support you in that.”

  A weight was starting to lift from her shoulders with the understanding of what he was saying. They would be partners in her celibacy. So many times she’d had to say no in the face of temptation, because of her decision to remain a virgin. So many times she’d had to watch a boyfriend walk away because she didn’t provide him with the carnal pleasures that he felt came with the territory of a steady relationship. So many times she’d felt guilty for her decision, while knowing in her heart that she’d done the right thing.

  So many nights she sat alone, wondering if there was a man out there for her, someone who was physically attractive to her, who she could build a future with, whose primary goal wasn’t to change her mind – to convince her to give up her virtue before she was ready. And as her birthdays went by, with each passing year, she was convinced that unless she married straight out of college – like her mom did – there was very little chance that she’d find that man. Or, that she’d continue to consider her virginity a priority.

  But Dax was the whole package. A gorgeous, sexy man she was physically attracted to, with the heart of a Christian and the beliefs to go along with it.

  She threw herself into his arms and he pulled her close, stroking her hair. “I want to be intimate with you. I want us to kiss and hold and touch each other. I just don’t want us to have intercourse. I don’t want to have to reject you either. But I’m confused about how far to let it go until we stop.”

  He nodded. “I understand what you’re saying. And I don’t want that to be an issue in our relationship. So, you leave that to me, okay? I will never push the envelope with you. I will never push you beyond your limits.”

  “And you can …?” She had no idea how to verbalize it since she never had to before. She huffed in frustration. She felt like such a naïve imbecile. “Um, I heard that guys get to a certain point in making out where they can’t stop themselves, you know? It’s physically impossible.”

  He shook his head. “That’s bull. We can always stop. Don’t believe it.”

  She gave him a shy smile, her heart pounding.

  Her happiness was off the charts. She was so glad they’d had this difficult conversation. She said a silent prayer of thanks to God for bringing this man into her life.

  “So,” Dax said, drawing the syllable out, “we share a bed tonight and sleep in each other’s arms?

  She tilted her head back and smiled. “You bet.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  After an hour spent testing out Dax’s claim that taking passion to a certain limit, then putting the brakes on was a physical possibility, they left the hotel and hit the streets. They wandered around, taking note of their surroundings. Jasmine took out her phone, activated the GPS app and typed in the street address of her interview tomorrow. She had chosen the hotel because of its fairly close proximity to the interview, because she didn’t want to rely on public transportation to get there. And once the car was parked in the hotel’s parking garage, she didn’t want to touch it again. If … no, when she ended up moving to New York permanently, she’d already decided she wouldn’t bring a car. She’d become a true New Yorker and learn the subways, the bus lines and become a pro at hailing cabs.

  The interview was about five blocks away and they walked there and back easily. Because repetition would help her remember in the morning, they walked it one more time. Then they stepped into a tiny Italian restaurant next to the office of Henderson-Cloy and shared an antipasto salad and a pizza.

  Back on the street, they blended into pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk and got the hang of aggressively stepping off the curb when the Walk light popped on, regardless of cars coming. They’d stop. Pedestrians had the right of way, and if they waited for all the cars to slide through, they’d never get across the street.

  Jasmine plugged another address into her GPS and started following the directions.

  “Where are you testing out now?”

  Jasmine stepped out of the flow of foot traffic and pulled him out, too. They ducked into the doorway opening of a skyscraper on their block. “This one is just my curiosity. I found out my birth grandmother’s name and business address.”

  Dax’s mouth opened and he stared, silent. “You did?”

  “Yes, and I know you said I should leave well enough alone. And I already know my mother does not approve of this research I’ve done. But I’m this close and I just have to at least check it out, you know?”

  He leaned against the wall and gestured his hands to her. “Tell me.”

  She went through the entire course of events, starting with the phone conversation with Fran, and ending with the Google research she’d done. She pulled up Google Images on her phone and showed him a close-up of Crystal.

  He stared, his eyes widening. He reached a hand up and ran it down his face. “My gosh.”

  “She’s a carbon copy of my mom, right?”

  He nodded. “Alarmingly so. Wow.” She watched the wheels turn in his head. “So, your mother doesn’t want you to find her. This woman – has she given you any indication that she wanted to be found? Do you have any idea how she would react if you confronted her?”

  “Well, confront is a strong word. I mean, I wouldn’t go storming in there and demand an explanation from my birth grandmother. But, to answer your question, no. She’s shown n
o sign of trying to locate the daughter she gave up. She’s built her own life here in New York. She’s in the theater business. She was an actress, then an agent. She’s represented lots of big name Broadway performers over the years. She’s somewhat of a legend.” She let her gaze drift back to the petite blonde beauty on her phone. “Although one interesting thing is that I don’t believe she ever got married, and it doesn’t appear that she ever had any children.”

  He met eyes with her and raised his eyebrows.

  “Maybe she was so affected by giving up my mother that she couldn’t go through it again.”

  He shrugged. “Or maybe she never wanted kids to begin with. Maybe she never fell in love. You don’t know.”

  “True. But isn’t that an even better reason to meet her? To talk with her and ask her these questions?”

  He shook his head, a fierce shake. “No. I could see maybe writing her a letter. Maybe. Send it snail mail so she could ignore it if she wanted to. But nothing as demanding as an email, a phone call, or God forbid, a face-to-face visit. I just have a feeling that she wouldn’t want that.”

  “Okay. But it couldn’t hurt to just wander by her office, could it? She’s probably not in there anyway. I imagine she’s at least partially retired, if not fully.”

  He dipped his head, his chin hitting his chest but his eyes keeping contact with hers. An unspoken challenge.

  “Dax, I’m this close. I’d regret it if I didn’t go. Are you going with me? Because if not, I’m going anyway.”

  His mouth screwed into a frustrated frown. “Hardheaded women.”

  They followed the directions coming from the phone. Blair Talent Agency was located eight blocks north and two blocks west of Henderson-Cloy. After a moderate walk, they arrived. It was housed in a nondescript sky scraper, but once inside the front door, a brass plate, about a foot square, engraved with “Blair Talent Agency” was attached to the marble wall. The offices were located on the seventh floor.