She just needs to hear more. So Jasmine told more, and the more she told, the more she expected her sister to jump up, cry foul, and demand that they fly to Houston right then to give Rachel the beatdown of her life.
But Serena just sat on the edge of the sofa, listening . . . and thinking. She said nothing, letting Jasmine get all the way to the end.
And then, there was silence.
With a frown that was much more about Serena’s reaction than the story itself, Jasmine said, “Isn’t this all crazy?” Maybe she needed to give Serena a hint of what she was supposed to say. “Can you believe Rachel?”
Now was the moment. Serena was supposed to scream out her righteous indignation. But still, all Serena gave her sister was silence.
Jasmine jumped up. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” she said as she stomped back and forth in front of the sofa. “Are you saying you believe her? Are you saying that Daddy wasn’t my daddy?”
“I haven’t said a word.” Serena held up her hands. “I was just listening.”
“But it’s the way you were listening. Like you believe . . .”
“So when are you going to have the test?” Serena asked.
Jasmine stopped moving and stared at her sister. But there was no anger in her eyes; it was almost as if Jasmine felt sorry for Serena. As if she were watching her sister lose her mind. “You know that’s ridiculous, right?”
Serena gave a half shrug, moving only one shoulder. “I’m just sayin’, why not have the test?”
“Why would I waste time and money on a lie?”
“I’m just thinking that you should have the test.”
“For. What. Purpose?”
“For the purpose of knowing for sure.”
“I know for sure.”
Serena’s eyes were filled with sadness as she glanced up at her sister and held her gaze.
Slowly Jasmine lowered herself back onto the sofa. “What? What do you know?”
This time Serena shrugged for real. “I don’t know anything. It’s just that this sounds surprising, but not crazy to me.”
“So you think we’re not sisters?”
“That’s not what I’m saying because no matter what, that bond can never be broken. And anyway, Rachel is saying that Mama was your mother, right? But . . .”
Jasmine swallowed hard, as if she were afraid to ask the next question. “Do you know something? You need to tell me.”
Now it was Serena’s turn to give a hard swallow, as if she wanted to hold back the words. Finally she said, “I’ve just been wondering for a long, long time.”
“About what? About me?”
“No, not you. About Mama. It kinda started when she passed away. Remember when Aunt Virginia came to LA for the funeral?”
Jasmine nodded.
“Well, right before she left, she gave me this box that she said belonged to Mama. And in there were a bunch of papers, like some old report cards and some letters and stuff like that.” When Jasmine frowned, Serena said, “And there was her birth certificate, too.”
“Okay.”
“Well, when Mama died, I thought she was forty-seven. But according to her birth certificate, she was only thirty-seven.”
Jasmine shrugged. “So? She lied about her age. That just makes me my mother’s child because I used to lie about my age all the time.”
“Yeah, but most people shave ten years off, not add ten years.”
Jasmine paused and thought about the numbers. “Well, that’s impossible anyway because I was twenty when Mama passed away. She couldn’t have been thirty-seven.” She waved her hand. “That birth certificate was wrong; they make mistakes like that all the time.”
“But it wasn’t just the birth certificate,” Serena said. “When I saw that, I started thinking about things I used to think about as a little girl. Like why we never knew any of Mama’s people.”
“We knew Aunt Virginia.”
“Yeah, but she was the only one. And she wasn’t really related to Mama. Remember we found that out? She was the lady who used to watch her when she was little, a friend of Mama’s mother.”
“Well, everyone else died.”
“That’s what Mama said.”
“And you don’t believe her?”
“It’s just that everybody died? Her mother, her father, her brothers, her sisters . . .”
“Mama was an only child.”
“That’s what Mama said.”
“I don’t know why this sounds strange to you. Lots of people have small families.”
“Yeah, small, but nonexistent? There has to be some relative left. Somebody. Someplace. Didn’t it ever bother you as a child that we only spent time with Daddy’s family?”
Jasmine answered her sister, but only in her head. That never bothered her because she never even wanted to spend time with her father’s people. So why in the world would she think about going to Alabama?
Serena said, “I just used to wonder where Mama’s family was. And once Mama died, it made me wonder even more. I wanted to ask Daddy about it, but I was only fifteen and I didn’t really know what to do.”
“So, why didn’t you say something later on?”
“I don’t know. I was just gonna let it all go away. But now . . .”
“Well, I don’t see what any of your questions have to do with me.”
Serena waited a moment before she said, “I went through those papers and I think this family has some secrets that were supposed to die with Mama and Daddy. But, for some reason, they’ve come alive now.”
“And you think the secret is that I’m a bastard child,” Jasmine said, as if she were accusing Serena.
“No, because you’re not. No matter what comes out of this, Charles Cox was your father. He loved you; he raised you; he was your daddy.”
“Exactly. He was my daddy. I was . . . I am his daughter.” And then a memory hit her. Of a time when she was about six, standing in the kitchen making cookies with her mother . . .
“When we finish, can we take some cookies to the baby?” Jasmine asked.
Doris Cox looked down at her daughter and smiled. “Your sister is too little to eat cookies. And anyway, these are for you ’cause you’re my extra-special baby.”
“But I’m not a baby anymore and you have a new baby.”
“Your sister is special, too. But you’ll always be extra special to me.” Then she kissed the top of Jasmine’s head. “You will always be my extra-special, very special Mama’s baby.”
“And I’m Daddy’s baby, too, right?”
Her mother smiled again. “Don’t tell anybody, but you’re Mama’s baby more. You’re Mama’s special gift from God . . .”
Over the years, her mother had often said those words—that she was a special gift from God—but to Jasmine those were just the loving sentiments of a wonderful mother who adored her firstborn. But could there be another reason behind those words?
“All I’m saying”—Serena’s words dragged Jasmine back to this place where she didn’t want to be—“is go ahead, have the test, let’s put this to rest.”
“An unnecessary waste of funds.”
“Then have them pay for it, but do it so you can have your questions answered.”
“I don’t have any questions.”
“Yes. You do. Or else you wouldn’t have gotten on a plane and flown three hours to see me for validation.”
Slowly, Jasmine closed her eyes and pushed back the new tears she felt forming. Of course, Serena was right. She did have questions and she hated that she did. But she had questions because she couldn’t figure out Rachel’s motive. And since she couldn’t figure that out, she had to face the fact that maybe Rachel had brought this absurdness to her because there was some semblance of truth in her story.
“Just do the DNA test,” Serena urged. Even though her voice was softer, her tone was more insistent.
In her head, Jasmine still said no, but in her heart, she knew she had to do it. She had to ge
t those questions answered. Those questions that she hadn’t allowed to seep from her heart, but those questions that had now been unleashed: How in the world could something like this even be possible? Was her life a total lie? If this was true, then her daddy wasn’t her daddy and her name wouldn’t even be Cox. So who would she be?
This time she couldn’t stop the tears that felt fiery hot as they seeped through her closed eyes. Just as she leaned her head back onto the sofa, there was a knock at the door.
“What in the world?” Serena said. “I haven’t had this many people come to my house in the last two years.”
She scurried across the living room and when she opened the door, Jasmine felt the force before she even opened her eyes.
“Jasmine Larson, I cannot believe you left New York without me.”
Mae Frances dumped her bag onto the sofa then held her arms open wide. “Come here,” she said. “You know I’m going to make this all better, right?”
Jasmine sat still for a moment, looking up at her friend. What was Mae Frances doing here? But then, she wasn’t really surprised. This was just who her best friend was.
She pushed herself up, walked a couple of feet, and by the time she collapsed into Mae Frances’s arms, she was sobbing once again.
Serena joined them and the two held Jasmine. They just stood there with their arms wrapped around her. And they just let her cry and cry until Jasmine couldn’t cry anymore.
Chapter
10
Rachel
If Rachel weren’t sitting there, witnessing this herself, she’d swear it was impossible. She fiddled with her purse strap, tapped her foot, then stood and paced nervously around the waiting room. Even though the room was adorned with contemporary furniture and a state-of-the-art television, it still felt cold and uninviting.
Rachel made her way over to the receptionist’s desk and tapped on the window.
“Yes, ma’am?” the receptionist asked, not bothering to hide her irritation.
“How much longer?” Rachel asked the woman.
The young woman pushed her cat-eye glasses up on her face and sneered, “Ma’am, like I told you the last three times you asked me in the past thirty minutes, it shouldn’t be much longer.”
Rachel gritted her teeth in an effort to stay calm. She wanted to school this girl on her customer service skills, but right now Rachel’s thoughts were focused on something much more important. Right now, she simply wanted to know what was happening on the other side of that door.
“Fine,” Rachel said, but the girl closed the window before she finished the word.
Rachel stood, taking in the surroundings. Her eyes stopped on the sign above the front door: DNA TECHNOLOGIES: WE HELP YOU GET TO THE TRUTH. That’s all she wanted. The truth.
Rachel still couldn’t believe she was here. That they were here. She turned just as the lobby doors opened.
“I simply detest public restrooms,” Mae Frances said as she wobbled her old frame back over to the chair in the corner. “I need to call up Ben and ask him to prescribe something for my bladder.”
Not that she cared about this old woman’s bladder, but Rachel asked anyway. “Who is Ben?”
“Carson. He’s a world-renowned doctor. Well, he wouldn’t be if I hadn’t helped him get into that good school. But now he done lost his mind, all on TV talking a whole buncha foolishness when he was trying to be president, so on second thought, I don’t think I’ll call.”
Rachel sighed. She had no desire to entertain this woman and her delusions. Granted, Mae Frances had proven she was well connected, but there was no way she knew all the people she claimed to know.
“Excuse me,” Rachel said, turning back to the receptionist’s window and tapping again.
The receptionist snatched the window open. “Yes?”
“Does it always take this long?”
The girl slammed her hand on her desk. “Look, lady!”
Rachel had had enough. She was exhausted and her tolerance level was past its limit. Jasmine had called her early yesterday, agreeing to take the test, so Rachel had taken the first flight out and come to New York. Jasmine was adamant that the test be done in New York and Rachel was adamant that she, Rachel, find the lab, just in case Jasmine got any bright ideas about paying someone off to get the results she wanted. Rachel had spent all yesterday doing that, had flown out the first thing this morning, and hadn’t even been to the hotel to drop her suitcase off. So she was not in the mood for this rude, nine-dollar-an-hour teenybopper.
“No, you look. Your job is to sit here and answer questions, and if I have a question, you need to answer it. You got one more time to snap at me before I lose my religion and show you what happens to disrespectful little twerps!”
Mae Frances spoke up before the girl could reply. “Rachelle, just come over here and have a seat. The girl doesn’t know any more than she’s already told you.”
Rachel’s nerves had reached their boiling point. She spun around to face Mae Frances. “My name is Rachel and tell me again why you’re even here? This has nothing to do with you.”
Mae Frances glared at Rachel for a minute before saying, “Little girl, you’re lucky I know Jesus now. And you need to be thanking Him that I am here because if I wasn’t, Jasmine Larson wouldn’t be here, either. The only reason she agreed to have this test is because I told her to. I could’ve told her that you really were a crackpot and if I had, you’d never have the answers you so desperately crave.”
Rachel inhaled, trying to calm herself. She didn’t need to be snapping at Mae Frances. When Jasmine had called her and agreed to the test, Rachel hadn’t even bothered to ask what had changed Jasmine’s mind. She should’ve known it was Mae Frances. Rachel didn’t know what kind of hold that woman had over Jasmine. After all, who in their right mind wanted to be best friends with Moses’s grandma? But at that very moment, Rachel was grateful for whatever Mae Frances had done. Jasmine was here and soon they’d know the truth. Soon they’d put this ridiculous notion of being sisters to rest.
“I’m sorry, Mae Frances,” Rachel said, genuinely apologetic. “I really appreciate you helping us get to the bottom of this.”
“Hmph” was all she replied.
“I mean, I’m just on edge. And I’m exhausted. I had to drop everything and get back to New York. I wish we could’ve done this in Houston. I already had a clinic set up to rush the results.”
“Chile, please, so you can have one of your hoodrat friends fix the test?” Mae Frances laughed.
This woman had better be glad she was dealing with a different Rachel now. Because back in the day . . . “Number one, I don’t have hoodrat friends,” Rachel said. “Anymore. And number two, I want to be Jasmine’s sister about as much as she wants to be mine.”
A small smirk crept up on Mae Frances’s face.
“What?” Rachel asked.
“I think you want the test to be positive.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Just a little. But the fact remains, you and Jasmine Larson act like sisters anyway. It wouldn’t surprise me none. Although it would be quite funny.”
“Whatever,” Rachel said as she went back to pacing.
“Don’t be mad at me because your poppa was a rolling stone.”
“He was not!”
Mae Frances chuckled. “Laying his hat at Jasmine Larson’s momma’s home.”
“Really, Mae Frances?” Rachel said, irritated. “Now, you’re biting off Temptation lyrics, trying to make jokes.”
“Actually, those are my lyrics. I gave them to Smokey Robinson one night when he—”
“Ugh,” Rachel said, shaking her head as she walked back over to the reception desk to demand some answers about what was taking so long. But before she could ask the receptionist again, the door swung open and Jasmine walked out. Her eyes were puffy, like she’d been crying and she looked . . . scared.
“Are you okay?” Rachel gently asked.
“Yes,” Jasmine
said. Rachel waited on some smart remark, some condescending comeback, but Jasmine said nothing as she pulled her sweater around her like she’d suddenly gotten a chill.
Jasmine swallowed, then her voice quivered as she said, “I’ve been done for a while. I just had to take a moment to myself.”
Rachel could only imagine how Jasmine was feeling and she knew now wasn’t the time to give her grief. “Jasmine, I’m sorry you have to go through this. I know we both just—”
“Look, you got your stupid DNA test,” Jasmine snapped, cutting her off. “They are rushing the results and will courier them over tomorrow, so tomorrow we can put an end to all of this foolishness and you can leave me alone.”
Rachel didn’t say anything, but only because she didn’t know what to say.
“Come on, Jasmine Larson,” Mae Frances said, appearing at Jasmine’s side. “The car is outside. Hosea has been blowing up my phone. He’s at the apartment.”
Jasmine nodded, then looked over at Rachel. “I’ll call you tomorrow when the courier arrives.”
“Can . . . can you wait so that we can open them together?”
Jasmine released a long sigh. “Fine, Rachel.”
Mae Frances took Jasmine’s arm. Rachel wanted to ask if all that was necessary since they’d only drawn a little blood, but the look in Jasmine’s eyes said she was in much more pain than a needle prick could ever deliver.
“Let’s get you home to your family,” Mae Frances said as she led Jasmine out of the lobby.
Rachel stood, watching them leave. Could I be her family? Rachel found herself wondering.
She shook off that thought. No sense driving herself crazy. One more day. Tomorrow, they’d know the truth.
Chapter
11
Jasmine
This view alone was worth a million dollars. At least that’s what the realtor had said when she first showed this apartment to Jasmine and Hosea all those years ago. It was this view that had made Jasmine beg with everything inside her. She’d told her husband she would never be able to live her life without living in this Central Park South apartment.
It had been a huge investment, but worth every million. There were so many days when Jasmine sat in the chaise in front of this massive window, stared at the park below, and found peace in the beauty of this man-made (with a lot of help from God) creation. But the solace that usually blanketed her when she spent a few moments taking in this view didn’t cover her today. Instead, as she gazed out at the park in its luscious summer glory, Jasmine’s mind filled with questions: Were the trees in the park really green? Were the people who strolled below Russian spies? Was this really Central Park? Was she even in New York?
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