The Crossing

by Serita Ann Jakes

  The smiles and waves she now received from the neighbors as she fifteen-MPHed her way toward her parents’ house were a far cry from the reception her parents had received as the first biracial couple in the neighborhood—even after twelve years of ministry to the growing town of Conch Springs. A suburb of Dallas wasn’t exactly the most welcoming place on earth to set down roots in the late ’70s and early ’80s if you weren’t white and Republican, but Daddy had a call from God and had no intention of running away from white hoods and backwoods bullies. He was the bravest, smartest, holiest man Claudia knew.

  They’d weathered the threats, broken windows, and smashed-up mailboxes. Everything short of burning crosses. And here they were still. Standing proud and strong. Living well. Thirty-five years in this town and in ministry.

  Even though Claudia hadn’t come along for several years after her parents had arrived in Conch Springs, she had to admit a certain amount of pride when she thought about all the obstacles her parents had faced coming here and refusing to be ashamed of their relationship or Daddy’s heritage. Her mother was a paradox. Married to a black man and proud of it, but refusing to be honest about anything else that might draw criticism.

  The town had its bigots—some had even left the church after Daddy took over as pastor. But the ones who stayed—even reluctantly—came around pretty quickly. Daddy had a way of winning over skeptics. It was one of his gifts.

  Too bad Mother was the one standing on the porch looking like she had something on her mind.

  Claudia drew in a breath and prepared herself as she climbed out of the Tahoe and walked toward the porch. She smiled as five-year-old Emily rushed out of the house and skipped toward her. “Hey, sweetie,” she said, stopping halfway down the front walk and kneeling. “How was kindergarten today?”

  “Fun.” Emily shoved her backpack into Claudia’s hands. “Miss Grishem sent a note. It’s inside.”

  “Okay, hop in the car and buckle up.” Still smiling, she stood and focused on her mother, who stood in the threshold of the front door. “Thanks for picking her up.”

  “I didn’t mind. But Vic has been calling. He said you missed the appointment.”

  Alarm seized Claudia’s stomach. “He didn’t tell you what the meeting was about, did he?”

  She scowled in the way only Mother could, making Claudia feel small. “No, he didn’t. Although I don’t see why it’s such a secret. Are you pregnant again?”

  “No, Mother,” she said, wincing at the way her tone dropped, but resolute. “And I can’t tell you what the meeting was for. That’s between Vic and me.”

  But Mother would know soon enough. The night of the anniversary dinner, she would complain and protest as they asked her to trust them and not ask questions on the way to the four-star restaurant. Then she would realize there was a party given in her honor, and for an hour or two, she would smile and be so pleased. Then later, when the two of them were alone, she would pick it apart.

  “Did you tell Vic I called?”

  “Of course. But you better have a good excuse for missing that meeting—whatever it was about. He’s pretty upset.”

  “I have a good reason and that’s also between Vic and me.”

  Her mother gave a shrug of her slim shoulders. “Fine. Keep your secrets. I best get inside and tend to your daddy’s dinner. You know he likes it on time.” The implication being, of course, that Claudia might not care about her husband, but her mother would not disappoint hers.

  Everything in Claudia wanted to blurt out fifteen years’ worth of reminders, but instead, she met her mother’s gaze with the appropriate amount of humility and bit her tongue.

  “Bye, Mama. Thanks again.”

  Claudia remained where she stood on the walk between the driveway and front porch until the door shut, then with a sigh, turned toward her waiting daughter.

  Fat raindrops splattered over the hood of her SUV. Thunder rumbled overhead fifteen minutes later as she pulled into the driveway of the forty-year-old split-level home she and Vic had purchased the year Emily was born. She’d loved it back then, but now, even after her remodel of the kitchen and addition of a master bedroom, it didn’t feel like home anymore. She couldn’t explain the unrest, just that it felt like her whole body was jittery, tickly, like all she wanted to do was make it stop, but everything she did made it worse.

  The sky moved again. Claudia hoped a gentle thunderstorm was on its way. Maybe she’d sleep tonight.

  She frowned at the sight of Victor’s Camry and shot a glance at the clock. So he’d decided not to go back to work today. That was a surprise, considering how hard he’d been working lately with DA Slattery’s pending retirement. She glanced in the rearview mirror. “Looks like Daddy’s home early, Emmy.”

  “Yay!” The little girl’s enthusiastic response brought a smile to Claudia’s face. If anyone understood daddy hero worship, she did.

  Claudia slid the car into park and glanced over her shoulder at Emily. “Don’t forget your backpack.”

  “I won’t!” Her tiny body looked even tinier against the massive Tahoe door as she reached for the handle.

  “Wait for me to help you out.”

  Emmy scrunched her nose, looking exactly like Vic when he was trying to form his closing arguments. “I can do it.” Before Claudia could stop her, Emmy pushed open the mammoth door with a grunt and slid out.

  “Be careful, Emily!” Honestly, sometimes the child’s independence nearly gave Claudia a heart attack.

  Shaking her head, she grabbed her shoes from the back floorboard and her purse from the seat next to her. Her gaze fell on the Camry as she walked past. She reached out her hand and felt the hood. Still warm. He hadn’t been home long. Claudia couldn’t remember the last time Vic had come home early.

  Guilt slammed across her heart. Would she ever stop letting everyone down?

  Casio

  “Dear Jesus, please make him stop.”

  The voice sliced through Casio’s rage, and he stopped short, as though something otherworldly stayed his hand, this close to smashing his two-thousand-dollar entertainment system into a million pieces. For the first time, Casio Hightower took stock of his surroundings. The broken glass, destroyed TV—a forty-seven-inch LG flat screen. What the …?

  Harper lay curled in a fetal position, her body shaking with silent sobs.

  “Oh, my …” He took an engulfing breath. “God, what did I do?”

  He swiped a pool of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and knelt down beside the woman he loved.

  If only she hadn’t turned down his proposal.

  Her lip was split and bleeding. He was the worst kind of monster.

  She put up her hand to shield her face, and a diamond sparkled from the engagement ring he’d forced onto her finger. Slowly he reached out. She gasped and shriveled before him. “Don’t …,” she pleaded.

  “It’s okay. I’m done.” He lifted her hand and gently removed the ring. “I’m sorry. Honey, I’m so sorry. Forgive me.”

  “C-can I go?”

  Nodding, Casio sat back, knees up, arms and fingers clasped loosely around his legs. Weak, tired … so sorry, he watched her scoot away from him and stand up slowly, painfully. She grabbed her purse from the kitchen counter and stumbled to the door.

  Lying back, he closed his eyes, replaying the stupid, mean, vile things he’d said and done to the woman he thought he’d spend the rest of his life loving. Frustration pushed through his throat as a groan. He hadn’t had a flashback of the night on the bus in months. But tonight, he couldn’t stop seeing the man in the mask, all the blood on the floor of the bus. BJ Remington’s death. It had to have been caused by seeing Claudia again. Rehashing those events had triggered this craziness.

  Shame washed over him. He knew there was no way to free himself from the guilt that clenched his gut, nauseating him with the memory of his hand slamming into the woman he loved. She’d taken him back before when he’d gotten a little rough, but t
he fear in her eyes, the blood—no way would she walk through those doors again. Not even to pick up her things.

  Weary, he shoved to his feet and started the process of cleaning up the mess. Harper knew how much he loved her. They’d been through too much together for her to just walk away. She’d be back and he would get help this time, so that he could cope with the anger that built up in him.

  When the phone rang a few hours later, he’d barely finished the cleanup. “Yeah?”

  “Hey, man, it’s Bob down at the station.”

  He sighed, resigned. At least they’d done him the courtesy of not showing up at his door with cuffs and a warrant.

  “We have a situation.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  If she’d gone to the hospital and she was pretty beat up, the doctors would have called it in.

  “Harper says you raped and beat her. We might not be able to make this go away. They’re calling in a special investigator from Dallas to look into her allegations against you.”

  Rape? That’s not the way he remembered their lovemaking. Things had gotten rough later, but he hadn’t forced her. The very thought grated on him. He’d never had to force a woman to be with him. He struggled to keep his voice calm.

  “When do you want me in?”

  “In the morning. Nine o’clock.”

  After the call, he stood in the middle of the room, feeling it spin around him a million miles an hour. Harper’s betrayal smashed against him, harder than any blow he’d landed on her.

  His boots crunched over a pile of broken glass he’d forgotten to sweep up, and he made his way to the bathroom. He washed his hands and stopped, staring at himself in the mirror. The memory of her face, already beginning to bruise, shoved into his mind. The scrapes on his knuckles were telltale—open-and-shut case. That couldn’t happen. As much as he cared about Harper and hadn’t meant to go that far, his job on the force was all he had, and he couldn’t let this incident rob him of the rest of his life. He staggered into the kitchen and glanced around.

  Victor

  A suspicious mind came naturally to Vic. After all, he’d been raised by his mother in a rough part of Dallas, and his job depended upon him being suspicious.

  He dumped Emmy’s half-full glass of water from dinner and set it in the dishwasher. A rueful smile touched his lips. Half-full. Maybe that was his problem. A suspicious assistant district attorney with optimist tendencies. No wonder he was always in a state of turmoil. At least where Claudia was concerned.

  She had looked good coming home a few hours ago when he’d met her and Emmy at the door. Almost too good in her snug jeans and the low-cut blouse he’d never seen before. He tried not to step in on household things. He knew she’d always done well with the budget, but lately new things were showing up all the time. An ADA in the state of Texas didn’t make anything close to the six figures he could make in private practice—especially defense.

  When Claudia missed appointments like she had today, he couldn’t help but worry. He thought back to their predinner conversation, right after she’d sent Emmy to put away her backpack.

  “So, where were you?” he’d asked, trying to keep his voice even, unthreatening.

  She had glanced at him sharply as though she might snap, but he decided to diffuse the situation before an argument ensued.

  “I was worried.”

  She expelled a heavy breath. “I had another panic attack,” she said. “Only this one was really bad. I got stuck at the tracks and then I couldn’t move even after the train was gone. Someone called the police, and lucky for me, Casio Hightower was the one who came. He got me off the road and sat with me while I calmed down.” Her shaky smile touched his compassion. “I took a few puffs of his cigarette to calm me down.”

  He shoved down his jealousy at the thought of Claudia and the police officer sharing a cigarette. When he stepped forward, she moved into his arms.

  The rest of the evening had gone smoothly, but Victor sensed a deep unsettling in his wife. He hated how helpless he was to do anything about it. How could he be so good at putting away bad guys and so bad at making his wife happy?

  “Hey, look at you, cooking and doing the dishes too. How’d I get so lucky?”

  Vic looked up to find Claudia standing in the doorway, wearing a pair of yoga pants and a strappy top that hugged her figure and made him want to forget the dishes and carry her upstairs. “Emmy all tucked in?”

  She nodded, walking into the kitchen. She plopped her hands onto her curvy hips. “Go relax. You’ve done enough. I’ll finish up here.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Thank you, honey.” He transferred the dishtowel from his shoulder to hers and pressed a kiss to her cheek. The faint smell of smoke still clung to her hair. “Claude?”

  “Yeah?” She angled her gaze to him as she plunged her hands into the soapy water. Her beautiful brown eyes were wide and innocent, but her body had tensed in such a way that he knew, from two years with this virtual stranger, they could easily go from friendly banter to an argument in no time flat.

  “Never mind. I’ll meet you in the living room when you’re finished and we can watch a movie or something. Whatever you want.”

  “Sounds fine. I won’t be long.”

  The AC kicked on, sending a blast through the vent as he walked by. He stopped and let the semicool air dry the sweat glistening on his skin from the warm kitchen. “Did you call the air-conditioning people?” he asked.

  Claudia let out a long breath. “No. I forgot. I’ll do it tomorrow.”

  “It’s just that Indian summer is in full swing.” He tried to keep his tone light. “The weather guy on Channel Ten said no relief from the heat for at least five days.”

  “I said I’ll call tomorrow. Okay?” She kept her gaze fixed to her task.

  “I didn’t mean to sound critical.” Vic walked back to the sink and slipped his arms around her, unwilling to let go of the ease of the afternoon and evening.

  She sighed and set down the baked beans pan she’d been scrubbing. She tilted her head, inviting him. “I know you didn’t. I’m sorry, baby. It’s just been a rotten day.”

  He buried his face in her neck.

  Turning in his arms, she slid her soapy hands around his neck. Victor leaned his head back and studied her face. The emptiness in her eyes stole his passion. He knew she would do her duty, but her heart and her mind wouldn’t be engaged in their lovemaking. Her indifference chafed his ego.

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I have some work to do.”

  Her expression changed only by a fraction, then she turned back to the sink.

  Vic wandered into the living room. He missed Claudia. His Claudia. The funny, sexy partner he’d had for the first five years of his marriage. He caught a glimpse of her every now and then, but eventually that vacant look returned, and his Claudia went away.

  As he dropped onto the couch, his mind took him back to the day they’d met. The day his life had gone from empty to full. He had walked into her dad’s office to discuss a church robbery case where Pastor King was to testify. Claudia had worked as her dad’s assistant back then, and the moment he saw her at the desk, smiling as she spoke on the phone, he was a goner. Her smile still made him weak.

  He only wished he could help her find her joy again.

  Two

  The flashing red glow of the crossing lights reflects off the ceiling of the bus. I hear the kids panicking around me. Oh, how I wish I could make my body move. I’d reassure them that everything will be okay. Claudia is leaning over me. “BJ?” she says, her voice thick, as though she’s swallowing back tears. “Don’t worry. He’s gone. You’ll be okay. The ambulance is coming. I hear it. Please hang on.”

  She’s lying next to me. In the blood I feel pumping from my body.

  “Who am I going to talk to if you’re not here?” she whispers.

  “Shh,” I say, but the word never quite leaves my lips. Why
won’t my body do what I tell it? Am I paralyzed or just that close to leaving this body of flesh, bone, and blood?

  I’m cold, so cold I should be shivering, but I don’t think I am. Claudia is pressed up against me, but I can’t feel her body’s heat.

  I try to focus on the first time I spoke to Claudia—just over two years ago. My first day as the new English teacher. Two minutes past class time, I had rushed into the closest bathroom, my overwrought nerves getting the better of me. I barely noticed her and almost knocked her down in my hurry.

  When I exited the stall, Claudia was still there. Her eyes clouded with concern. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, went to the sink, and rinsed my mouth. When I raised up, she pressed some paper towels into my hands.

  “I’m sorry. I made you late to class,” I said.

  She shrugged. “I was late anyway.” Her eyes perused me. “You’re new, aren’t you?”

  Then I realized she thought I was a student. My face went hot, and I was too embarrassed by my behavior to tell her I was actually a teacher, so I just nodded.

  “If you need directions to your first class, just ask.”

  “You know what?” I said, dipping into my purse for breath strips, “I actually could use directions. I’m headed to sophomore English Lit. Can you point the way?”

  She grinned. “I can do better than that. That’s where I’m going too. We’re getting a new teacher. The last one didn’t get along with the new principal and decided to retire.”

  She put air quotes around “retire.” I wasn’t sure why and didn’t ask because I realized it was time to pony up. Besides, I didn’t think gossiping with a student was very professional. Although over the next two years, Claudia and I shared plenty of gossip.

  “Listen, I appreciate your kindness more than I can say.” I swallowed hard as we headed for the door. “I’m actually not a student. I’m the new English teacher.”

  Her eyes got bigger than they already were. “What are you, one of those geniuses who went to college early?”