The Sea of Aaron

by Kymberly Hunt

  “You should have called me anyway. Did you get back to Cates?”

  “No, I didn’t. I kind of had mixed feelings about it.” She stopped. “Aaron, you don’t seem very surprised to hear about Carolyn’s suicide.”

  “I’m not.” He pushed his empty plate aside. “And I’m glad you didn’t return that call. Don’t. I’ll check out the Cates woman tomorrow.”

  “Are you saying you knew what happened to Carolyn before I got the—” she started, but was interrupted because he stood up and reached for her hand, bringing her to her feet. His arms entwined around her waist, their lips met, her heart pounded, and she was a goner.

  Nearly two hours later, she lay in bed with her head against his chest, his arm looped around her. “I’m sorry about earlier,” Aaron whispered, his voice like a rumble in her ear. “I should have answered you.”

  “You’re forgiven this time,” Valerie said, toying with the dog tag around his neck. “What I want to know is who told you about Carolyn, and why I have the feeling that you’re worried that someone might still be pursuing me because of that stupid money?”

  “A contact told me about Carolyn,” he answered. “And I’m 95 percent positive that you’re not in any danger.”

  “Uh-oh. I know 95 percent isn’t good enough for you.” She traced her finger carefully over his scar.

  “You don’t have anything to worry about,” Aaron said, brushing her hand lightly aside.

  Gathering the blankets around her, Valerie sat up straight. The finality in his voice hinted that the discussion was over and this irked her. She was not about to be placated as if she were a completely helpless child convinced that Daddy could protect her from everything—like her mother, who had always looked to her husband as if he were God Himself.

  “I’m the one who will decide what I have to worry about.” She clutched the blankets tighter. “Do you think Martha Cates is dangerous?”

  “No. But she was the last and only person to visit Carolyn in prison. I don’t want you to do anything with the information she gave you. At least not until everything about her checks out.”

  Valerie sighed. His logic couldn’t be refuted. It definitely made sense, and it certainly wasn’t that she was thrilled about getting back to the woman anyway. She glanced at Aaron, whose expression in the darkened room seemed unreadable

  “But if Cates is clean, are you planning to call her at some point?” he asked.

  “I don’t want to.” She slid closer to him again. “But at the same time, I don’t feel right about keeping the money. I’ve never felt right about it, and in some ways I’d be happy to give it away.”

  “Gordon Allard wanted you to have it,” Aaron said.

  “Yes, but that’s going on the assumption that he didn’t know he had a grandson.”

  “Suppose he really was a bigot and deliberately shut the kid out?”

  Valerie sighed for the hundredth time. “And then turned around and gave the inheritance to an unrelated black woman? Look, I know that there are some things you can never really know about another person, but I honestly don’t believe he would do such a thing. If his granddaughter believed him to be a racist, it was probably due to her disagreements with him over some of the seamy characters she associated with. What parent would have nice things to say about their child associating with criminals, no matter what race they were?”

  Aaron said nothing. He had moved over on his side with his back to her, and as she leaned over to look, she noticed his eyes were closed. She nudged him.

  “Aaron Weiss, you better not be sleeping when I’m talking to you.”

  She could see that the corner of his mouth was turned up ever so slightly, prompting her to tickle him under the chin because she knew he hated that gesture. He responded by slapping her hand away.

  She laughed and suddenly remembered her odd feeling earlier in the day. “Just one more question and I promise I’ll let you sleep. Before you got here, did you by any chance have someone watching me, playing bodyguard?”

  “Do you think I did?” He sounded amused.

  “I wouldn’t put it past you. And this morning I had the strangest feeling that I was being followed.”

  “Valerie, you worry entirely too much. Not only that, but you’re getting paranoid.”

  “What? How dare you of all people, Mr. Cloak and Dagger, call me paranoid.” She seized her pillow and whumped him on the side of the face.

  He laughed and her own laughter quickly blended with his. He then turned around and took her in his arms again.

  “Now what? I thought you were tired.”

  “How could I possibly be tired? The night is still young and my wife is still beautiful.”

  Chapter 16

  The information on Carolyn Allard and Martha Cates did check out. Carolyn had given birth to a son eleven years ago and had promptly turned him over to the care of her then-boyfriend’s mother after the two had broken up. There was nothing suspicious about Carolyn’s death, either. It was confirmed that she had deliberately hanged herself in her jail cell, using a dress sash as a noose. She had not been considered high risk, and therefore had not been placed under suicide watch. Other than negligence by the prison guards, there was nothing left to be said.

  As far as Mrs. Cates was concerned, the woman was a widow, a harmless sixty-year-old, church-going grandmother on disability, who owned a house and was raising her grandchild because her wayward son was incarcerated long term on several drug trafficking charges. The grandmother did not have much in the way of money, but neither she nor the child were in danger of starving, and they weren’t totally on public assistance, either.

  Satisfied that Valerie was completely safe, Aaron didn’t bother to report the details to her and hoped she wouldn’t ask him about it. In his opinion, getting involved with a whining stranger was an unnecessary nuisance. It would be best if she just forgot about Martha Cates and her grandkid. The two would survive. Besides, with such a nefarious background, the kid was probably going to end up behind bars like both his parents, and that being the case, Gordon Allard wouldn’t have bequeathed him anything anyway.

  Aaron had also had Valerie’s landline phone number changed to an unlisted one, so Mrs. Cates wouldn’t be able to reach her, should she get the notion to call again.

  Over breakfast, a mere two hours before he was planning to fly out of JFK to cement the Comoros Island airfreight deal, Valerie mentioned it.

  “Aaron, what about the Allard case?”

  “Everything checked out.” He rose and placed his coffee mug in the sink.

  “Then Carolyn definitely committed suicide, and she really does have a son?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you couldn’t have just told me, instead of making me ask?”

  The aggravation in her voice was clear, but he had neither the time nor patience to deal with her attitude now.

  “Let’s not make an issue of it. We can talk about this when I get back.”

  Valerie bit her lip, visibly censoring what she wanted to say. “And when do you think you’ll be back?”

  “Three days tops.”

  Yes, she was definitely displeased, and while it would be nice to make amends, there wasn’t enough time.

  Resigned, she took hold of his gray silk tie and drew him close. “Have a good trip,” she said.

  He kissed her, picked up his briefcase, and left.

  ***

  Hours later, while sitting at a table in a crowded fast food eatery listening to Jasmine reprimand her four-year-old stepson, Valerie found herself feeling disgruntled. They had just gotten back from the Meadowlands after seeing a matinee performance of the Ice Capades, a show which Morgan, the well-mannered older child, had enjoyed. But it had obviously not been pleasing to Diego, who’d kept Jasmine constantly up and down during the performances.

  “Diego, for the last time, I said no.” Jasmine grasped the wayward child by the hood of his jacket and tugged him back to the seat. “You wa
nted a chocolate shake, and you haven’t even finished that. You’re not getting strawberry.”

  “Why can’t I?” Diego demanded, his eyebrows knitted furiously over his angelic face. The boy was child-model gorgeous with longish blond, curly hair and aqua-colored eyes. However, that ethereal beauty could be deceptive, like right now. For once, Valerie wished Jasmine would give him a good swat on his cherubic backside. It was a good thing she and Noah had a well-trained nanny to help take care of the kid. Unfortunately, she was currently off on vacation.

  “So where did you say Aaron went?” Jasmine asked, once she had Diego seated.

  Valerie closed her purse as Diego’s hand ventured toward it. “Comoros, or something like that. He ends up in places I never even knew existed.”

  Jasmine smiled mockingly. “Oh, I believe Noah said something to me about that deal. At least you can be thankful that this is just something to do with Avian International freight and not…um, some military thing.”

  “I’m not exactly complaining, but he could have waited. I mean, we’ve only been together for two days since he got back from Belize and there is so much to do right here. How does he expect me to go around checking out real estate without him? He’s going to have to be happy with the choice, too, and so far I haven’t seen anything that even remotely suggests us.”

  “My mom can have a house built for you,” Morgan piped up. “She’s a really good architect.”

  “Of course she can, sweetie,” Valerie said, affectionately fingering one of the girl’s long braids. “But building a house from the ground up takes a lot of time.”

  Jasmine beamed at her daughter. “I’m glad someone appreciates my talent.”

  Valerie’s thoughts flickered back to Aaron. Everything had been near perfect with them as long as they stayed in the bedroom and didn’t talk too much. She didn’t like the implications of this. She definitely didn’t want the purely physical to become the defining characteristic of their relationship. Yet she was realizing already that she was going to have to carefully pick her battles with him and time them appropriately.

  “I have to go to the baf room,” Diego announced abruptly in a half-whispered monotone, while scooping off the pickle, onions, and most of the ketchup from his cheeseburger and smearing it on the table. “I have to go to the baf room!” He shouted loudly the second time, so loudly that strangers turned to look at them and Jasmine’s face flushed.

  “I’ll take him,” Morgan volunteered quickly. She got up and tugged the sleeve of the younger one, who glowered and trotted off with her as proudly and arrogantly as a peacock. Jasmine breathed a sigh of relief and dutifully began cleaning up Diego’s mess.

  “He’s having one of his bratty days,” she said apologetically.

  One? Valerie thought but didn’t say. She didn’t feel like rubbing it in, but Jasmine’s attempts to discipline the kid were totally ineffective. Even Jasmine’s nine-year-old daughter handled him better. “Maybe you should be a bit more firm,” she suggested

  “I’m trying, but it’s hard. I don’t want to have to spank him.”

  Valerie shook her head. “I don’t know, Jas…and you’re expecting another.”

  “Must you remind me?” Jasmine rolled her eyes. “Hopefully number three will be a lot calmer than number two. D worries me sometimes.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t worry too much. I mean, he’s only four, and kids do outgrow phases.”

  Valerie had been waiting for this slot when she and her friend were alone, out of the range of little ears, so they could have an adult discussion, but suddenly her own trifling issues with her new husband had diminished. Aaron was, after all, just being Aaron, and she was becoming more aware that Jasmine’s life wasn’t completely idyllic, either. How easy was it to be a stepmother to a little boy whose biological mother had died under very troubling and traumatic circumstances? She shuddered to think about it.

  “I still want a wedding reception for you two,” Jasmine said, breaking the silence. “How about at Renaissance Hall?”

  “Good place,” Valerie agreed. “Might be difficult to get Aaron to cooperate, though.”

  “Maybe Noah can talk him into it.”

  “We’ll see. But that can wait. Right now, I’m still trying to figure out what I should do with the Allard money.”

  Jasmine shrugged. “How about investing it in Avian stock? Business is booming and because our guys are behind it, it’s not likely to go belly-up anytime soon.”

  Valerie smiled. “Good idea. But I still can’t help thinking about other, less materialistic options.”

  She went on to tell Jasmine very briefly about Carolyn and her surviving son, just as Morgan and Diego returned.

  “That’s a tough one,” Jasmine said. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’ve been wanting to visit an old patient of mine in Nanuet anyway, so I think I just might call her tonight to let her know I’m coming tomorrow. While I’m in Rockland County I’ll pay Mrs. Cates a visit as well.”

  “Speaking of calling, what’s with your home phone?” Jasmine asked. “I tried to call you several times this morning and was told that your number was disconnected.”

  Chapter 17

  Valerie got out of her car and carefully navigated the walkway. She had called Martha Cates twenty minutes ago, hoping she wouldn’t be up to the visit, but that had not been the case. Martha was definitely at home and eagerly waiting.

  “I’m surprised but so glad to see you,” Martha said, opening the door for her to enter. “I never dreamed you’d come. I appreciate it. I really do because I know most people wouldn’t.”

  “Apparently I’m a little crazier than most people,” Valerie said wryly. “As you know, I was a friend of Mr. Allard’s. Because of that, I couldn’t get his grandson off my mind.”

  Martha did not look anything like Valerie had pictured her. She was short, round, and much younger-looking than her sixty years. Her brown-skinned face was smooth and unmarred by the passage of time.

  “Brandon’s in school right now, so we can chat. He doesn’t know anything about this. And I want to make sure that you know this has nothing to do with me. I don’t want anything for myself.”

  Valerie nodded and accepted a seat on the couch in the modest, neat living room, which boasted a fireplace that probably had not been used in years. On the mantle were dozens of photographs. A well-worn Bible and Bible-based literature covered the coffee table.

  “I want to do the right thing,” Valerie said. “But before I make a decision, I need to know some things about your grandson.”

  “Of course. Brandon is nothing like my children.” She shook her head. “I hate to say it, but every one of them went bad. Not my grandson. I guess God has a way of working things out. He’s the best child I ever raised. He loves going with me to church. He gets good grades in school, and he doesn’t run all over the street getting in trouble like most of the kids in the neighborhood.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that,” Valerie said, wondering how much Martha was exaggerating. “Could I see some pictures of him?”

  “Sure.” From the piano, Martha removed what was obviously a recent school picture. “I don’t mean to say that Brandon is an angel,” she continued, as though trying to read Valerie’s thoughts. “I mean, he is a boy, and he does get into mischief from time to time, but it’s just small things.”

  Valerie didn’t hear a word she’d said because her heart nearly skipped a beat when she looked at the photo. Brandon, a bespectacled mocha-complexioned boy with curly, dark brown hair, bore a very marked and uncanny resemblance to the late Gordon Allard. There was no way anyone could have ever said that he wasn’t an Allard grandchild. He looked smart—introspective without appearing nerdish.

  “He’s quite handsome,” she said.

  Martha beamed. “He gets good grades in school, but he really likes history and math, and he loves to read.”

  This struck her, too, because Mr. Allard was definitely a reader an
d a history buff. “Mrs. Cates,” she said slowly, “how did Brandon take his mother’s death?”

  There was a silence for a moment. “Um, I still have a hard time talking about this. He was sad, but he didn’t have much of a reaction at all. You see, the last time Carolyn actually came to see Brandon he was five years old.” Noting Valerie’s disturbed expression, Martha continued. “She was ashamed of her life. She told me she didn’t want to mess him up. She did keep in contact with me, though.”

  Valerie felt sadness for Carolyn again, wondering why she had gotten to the point of suicide when a good lawyer probably would have been able to get the more serious charges against her dropped.

  “In her last moments,” Martha’s voice quavered, “Carolyn just wanted to do something right for her son.”

  Valerie stood up and replaced the picture on the mantle. “We can probably have a trust set up for Brandon. But I just want you to know that Carolyn was wrong about her grandfather. Brandon’s color would not have been an issue. If he had been allowed to know him, he would have loved him and given him the inheritance himself.”

  “I really appreciate this…I mean, whatever you choose to give Brandon. Thank God there are some people still left on this earth who aren’t self-serving and greedy.”

  Valerie wondered how unselfish she would have been if she hadn’t married a wealthy man. “You’ll be hearing from me again, after my lawyer has sorted out the details.”

  “May I have your number?” Martha asked.

  “I thought you already had it,” Valerie said.

  Martha looked embarrassed. “I remember you told me not to call you, but I kind of did once and the line was disconnected.”

  Aaron, Valerie thought, recalling that Jasmine had mentioned something similar about not being able to reach her home phone. The master protector had changed her number without even telling her. “Let’s just keep things the way they are,” she said to Martha. “I promise I’ll get back to you.”

  Chapter 18