Maybe this was all just an illusion.
Silly questions, of course, but now she felt like she had to question everything. Because clearly life wasn’t what it seemed. What had been real was not. Not anymore.
That was all she could think about. For the last two days. Since Mae Frances had appeared at Serena’s door and explained that Hosea had called and told her what was going on. Then Mae Frances, Serena, and Jasmine had talked. Well, it was more like Mae Frances and Serena talked and Jasmine just listened as they both told her the same thing.
“You have to have the test. You have to know.”
The two of them had talked to her well into the morning hours, though it didn’t really take all that time. Jasmine had been convinced before Mae Frances had shown up. Really, she’d probably made her decision before she even got on the plane to Pensacola.
So, the next morning she’d made the call to Rachel—with Mae Frances’s help, of course, since Jasmine had deleted Rachel’s number with the expectation that she’d never again in this life speak to Rachel Jackson Adams. But that, along with so much in her life, wasn’t true. And so Mae Frances had called one of her connections, gotten Rachel’s number, and Jasmine had made the call.
“I’ll do the test,” she’d said to Rachel without even saying hello. “But I’m not going through any trouble. We’ll do it in New York and you’ll pay for it.”
Then Jasmine hung up. She hadn’t been sure how Rachel would respond, and if Rachel had never contacted her again, that would’ve been fine. Jasmine would have gone on with her life, knowing that Rachel had made it all up.
But about an hour after she’d ended the call, Jasmine had received a text from Rachel with a place to meet yesterday morning.
And Jasmine had shown up. Because she just had to know.
The tap on her shoulder made her jump inches off the chaise and she twisted around. “Oh my gosh! You scared me, Hosea.”
“I don’t know why; I called you three times.”
She looked up at her husband and he leaned down, softly kissing her forehead.
She said, “My mind was . . .”
He finished her sentence for her. “In another place. I understand.”
After a few minutes of silence, she said, “I wish I’d never taken that test.”
“Why?” He eased down onto the chaise, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with her.
“Because what difference does it make now? My mother and father are dead, so there’s really no need to stir up something when I know all the way down to my soul that my father was my father. He raised me, took care of me, loved me. If I wasn’t his daughter, then he was a damn good actor.”
“And nothing will change that, darlin’. Whether you carry his DNA or not, he’s still your father.”
“That’s my point. So what is the purpose of knowing any of this?”
“Because you have questions. And all questions deserve to be answered.”
“Maybe these are questions that I don’t need to have and answers that I don’t need to know.”
“No, you need to know . . . because if you hadn’t taken the test, every night when you laid your head down on your pillow you would wonder.”
“No matter what happens with this test, I’m going to wonder. Like, why did Rachel’s father even think that he could be my father? What happened between him and my mother? Did anything ever really happen with them? Did he even know my mother or is he a liar like his daughter?”
Hosea was silent for a moment, nodding his head just a bit as he considered Jasmine’s questions. “You need to know the answers to all of that. You need to know for family’s sake.”
Now, she was thoughtful. “These results could show that I have no family. I might end up not knowing who I am.”
“Well, if you forget, I’ll tell you—you’re Jasmine Cox Larson Bush,” he said, emphasizing each syllable the way Jasmine did when she introduced herself.
But while Hosea smiled, Jasmine didn’t. “We may need to take out the Cox and I may end up putting something in there . . . like Jackson.” She shuddered. “Jasmine Jackson.” Shaking her head, she added, “That sounds ridiculous. Too close to Jermaine Jackson.”
Hosea chuckled.
“I’m serious, babe. A name like Jackson . . . what’s special about that?”
“What’s wrong with Jackson?”
“Who important ever had the last name Jackson?”
“Well, I could ask you the same thing about Cox.”
“You might not know anyone named Cox, and that would make the name special enough. But Jackson? No one special was ever named Jackson.”
“What about Andrew Jackson?”
“He doesn’t count. He was white.”
“But he was the president. That’s pretty special.”
“He doesn’t count,” she repeated. “No one even remembers him. People remember folks like Jesse Jackson and his son, Junior. And we know what kind of Jacksons they turned out to be.”
“Well what about Mahalia Jackson or Maynard Jackson?”
Jasmine paused for a moment, then nodded.
“And then, you can always tell people you’re related to Curtis Jackson.”
She frowned.
Hosea answered her question before she asked. “You know him as Fifty Cent.”
“Ugh! See what I’m sayin’?”
Hosea chuckled. “Come on, darlin’. None of this is important. No matter how the test comes back today, let me tell you who you are.” He took her hands into his and kissed her fingertips. “You are a woman who loves God, you are my wife, and you are the mother of the two most amazing children on earth. And I’m not just saying that about Jacquie and Zaya. That’s a scientific fact.”
“Oh, really? There was some kind of test done that proved this?”
“No, but if there were a test, that would be the result.”
She smiled, but then she thought about Hosea’s words—test, result—and her smile faded away.
He pulled her into his arms, letting her rest her head against his chest. “The most important thing you need to know today is that I love you with everything in me. And I will be with you on this entire journey, no matter where the road leads.”
Before she could thank Hosea for being in her life, before she could thank God for blessing her with this man, the doorbell rang.
And Jasmine shook. “Oh my God.” She pressed her hand against her chest because she was sure her heart was about to pound its way out. “That must be the courier . . . with the results.”
“No,” Hosea said, squeezing her hand, “because the concierge would have called to let him up.”
Together they stood and Hosea made his way to the front door. When he disappeared into the foyer, Jasmine squeezed her eyelids together. “Please, Father God. Please, Father God. Please, Father God.” She didn’t think she needed to say anything else. God knew the desires of her heart; and didn’t the Bible say that He would give her what her heart wanted? Well, what she wanted was to be who she always was.
When she opened her eyes, Mae Frances stood in front of her. “Good morning,” she sang as if this was somehow the cheeriest day of the year. “How are you this glorious morning, Jasmine Larson?”
“I’m good,” she said, breathing once again. “Just a little anxious. I thought you were the courier.”
“So is Rawanda here yet?”
“No.” Jasmine shook her head.
“What time is she coming?” Mae Frances asked.
“I texted her this morning and told her that the results were going to be here at three.”
Hosea said, “I thought you said they’d be here before noon.”
“Yes, but I didn’t want Rachel here when they came. I’m going to need some time—without her.” She glanced down at her watch. “It’s almost noon now. I thought the courier would be here.”
Mae Frances slipped a padded package from her purse and held out the envelope to Jasmine.
Hosea moved
to Jasmine’s side as they both frowned. Jasmine asked, “What’s that?”
“The test results you’re waiting for.”
“You went down to the clinic to get them?” Jasmine didn’t give her friend a chance to respond. “Why? And why would they give them to you?”
“I didn’t go down there. When I walked in, the courier was in the lobby on his way up and your doorman told him to give me this package since I was coming up here.”
“He’s not supposed to do that!”
Mae Frances twisted her lips. “Stanley knows me. He knew me before you even moved into this building.”
Jasmine had no time to listen to how Mae Frances knew yet another person. Instead, her eyes were on the package her friend held. “Did you open it? Do you know the results?”
“Who do you think I am, Jasmine Larson? I wouldn’t get in your business like that.”
If this were any other time, Jasmine would have had all kinds of retorts for Mae Frances. But this wasn’t any other time. This was now, and all Jasmine could do was stare at the package, which Mae Frances still held.
Mae Frances added, “Only you need to open this envelope.”
Her hands were shaking, her knees were trembling as Jasmine reached for the news that could change her life. But as her fingers touched the envelope, Mae Frances pulled it back. “What about Rachel?” Mae Frances asked.
That question made Jasmine quiver more. When was the last time Mae Frances called Rachel by her given name? If this was that serious to Mae Frances, then Jasmine just wanted to cry.
Mae Frances finished with, “I think she needs to be here.”
“I don’t want her here!” Jasmine snapped. She left out that she didn’t even want Mae Frances or Hosea there. She wanted to open this by herself, to have a private moment of celebration or complete sorrow. Whichever it was, she really wanted to be alone. But she knew that would never happen; these two would never leave her alone for this. So, all Jasmine said was, “Please, Mae Frances. Please give that to me.”
Just as Mae Frances handed her the envelope, the doorbell rang again and Jasmine paused. Who was invading their space now?
Without a word, Hosea rushed to the door and Jasmine and Mae Frances stood, staring at one another. Seconds later, Hosea walked back into the living room, followed by Rachel.
Jasmine’s eyes widened. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for the results.”
“I told you they were coming at three.”
“And that’s why I’m here early, because I know how you are.” Her eyes moved to Jasmine’s hands. “Are those the results?” When Jasmine didn’t answer, Rachel crossed her arms. “Have you opened it yet?” she asked like she had a major attitude.
Jasmine wondered why Rachel was upset. No matter the results, her life wasn’t going to change too much. Either Jasmine wasn’t her sister and they could go back to being enemies, or she was and that would be the biggest blessing Rachel would ever receive, while Jasmine would know for sure that she was cursed.
Jasmine shook her head. “I was just getting ready to open it.”
Rachel poked out her lips. “Then do it!” she said, like she was in charge.
Jasmine took her eyes away from Rachel and glanced at Mae Frances, and then turned to Hosea, who gave her a reassuring nod. All three kept their eyes on her and for a moment, Jasmine wanted to tear the package to shreds so they would never know. But, with hands that were still shaking, she ripped it open.
She took her time unfolding the single trifold paper and read the words slowly, so she could understand completely.
It was difficult to read everything, the way her body quaked. But still she took in every word, every letter.
The results were in and there was no mistake.
Her knees could no longer hold her upright and she collapsed, wilting to the floor.
“Jasmine!”
She heard her name called, but she didn’t want to open her eyes.
“Jasmine!”
With a deep breath, she did what she didn’t want to do. She opened her eyes. And stared into the eyes of Rachel Jackson Adams . . . her sister.
Chapter
12
Rachel
Rachel released a long sigh as the Houston skyline came into view. She’d been out of it from the moment the car service had dropped her off at JFK and now she just longed to see her children. This was the first time she’d allowed her mind to think of anything other than Jasmine since she’d left New York.
Rachel had known in her heart that Jasmine was her sister. She’d known the minute Jasmine confirmed her mother’s name. But now she knew. There was a 99.9 percent probability that Jasmine Cox Larson Bush was indeed her half sister.
Rachel finally managed to smile when she recalled Jasmine’s desperate look at Hosea as she said, “But there’s a point one percent chance that I’m not.” Even Mae Frances had looked at Jasmine with pity when she’d said that.
Under regular circumstances Rachel would have been offended. Did Jasmine not want to be related to her that bad? But again she remembered that Jasmine’s whole world had been turned upside down. That’s why Rachel had quietly told everyone good-bye, with the promise to be in touch after Jasmine had time to process the news. She eased out of the house without any fanfare, without any theatrics. She knew Jasmine would never be the same again and that was tough.
Fifteen minutes later, Rachel had just made it to baggage claim when she heard someone calling her name. She looked up to see her husband. She’d called Lester on the way to the airport and despite her attempts to tell him she was fine, Rachel guessed he could hear in her voice that she wasn’t.
“Hey, honey,” she said, leaning in and kissing Lester before he took her in a comforting hug.
“Hi. How was your flight?” he replied.
“It was okay. Just seemed longer than normal.”
Lester stood back and examined her. “Are you sure you’re okay? I’ve been worried sick because you don’t sound okay.”
Rachel handed her husband her bag, then said, “Yeah, I am. It’s Jasmine who I’m worried about.”
“Well, it’s been a few hours since you’ve seen her. Do you want to call and check on her?”
Rachel thought about it for a minute. Did she want to call her sister? If she was worried about Jonathan or David, she’d blow up their phones until she knew they were okay. But she and Jasmine weren’t there. A small pang filled her heart when she wondered, given their history, if she and Jasmine would ever be there.
“No,” she finally said. “I’m gonna give her a little time.”
Lester didn’t say anything more as he took her hand and led her into the short-term parking garage. They’d talked over the phone and had agreed that they’d go straight to her dad’s from the airport.
On the drive to her father’s house, Rachel rode in silence. Lester caressed her hand, squeezed it at just the right time. He’d asked her again if she was okay and then, thankfully, had left her to her thoughts.
It had taken thirty minutes to get to her father’s house, but now that they were here, standing on his front porch, Rachel still didn’t know what to say.
Her stepmother met her at the front door, a nervous look on her face. Rachel had called and told Brenda that she was on her way. She didn’t tell her why she was coming, but given all the questions Rachel asked about what kind of mood Simon was in and how he was feeling, she knew Brenda had an idea of what this conversation was about.
“Hey. How are you?” Brenda said.
“I’m fine.”
Her hands were clutched over her chest as if she knew the answer to the lingering question.
“Well, your dad’s inside,” Brenda said. “I told him you were coming by because he was trying to go for a walk. I played it down, though. I didn’t mention . . .”
It’s like she couldn’t even bring herself to finish the sentence. Rachel nodded her understanding as she stepped inside the li
ving room.
“Hey, Ms. Brenda,” Lester said, kissing Brenda on the cheek. She closed the door behind them and the three of them made their way back into the den.
“Hey, baby girl,” Simon said from his favorite rickety recliner, watching his favorite show, Sanford & Son. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Hey, Daddy,” Rachel said. She leaned down and quickly hugged her father.
He lowered his feet off the ottoman.
“Um, what’s going on?” he asked, studying her.
“I can’t hug you?” She tried to fake a smile.
“Yes. Now, what’s going on?”
“I just wanted to come by and talk to you.”
Simon studied her harder, like he was looking through her. Then he glanced over at Lester, then at Brenda, and then he picked up the remote and turned the TV off.
“You talked to Jasmine.” It was a declaration. Not a question. Dang, her dad was good.
“I did,” Rachel said, easing onto the sofa across from her dad. “At first she thought the idea of you being her father was ridiculous.”
Simon nodded. “That’s understandable, and it may be hard for her to process, but if I could talk to her, I could convince her to have the test and then we could know for sure.”
Rachel swallowed, trying to gather her words. “We know for sure, Daddy. We had a test done so that we could know.”
Simon fell back in his chair.
“So?” he asked.
Rachel’s hand went up and Lester took it to give her strength to continue.
“Well, it turns out you aren’t as senile as we thought,” she said, trying to manage a laugh, but it came out as a muffled cry. Rachel swallowed her words, composed herself, and said, “Jasmine is your daughter.”
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