A Blessing & a Curse

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

  Rachel climbed into the driver’s seat. “You know what, Mae Frances? I’m not going to let your negativity ruin this day. This is all about Jacqueline’s Hope.”

  Mae Frances gave her a sideways glance but didn’t respond.

  “So, the center is downtown,” Rachel began as they pulled out onto the main highway. “You’ll be happy to know they’ve installed a stoplight right in front of the center, so it’s sort of a local attraction now.”

  “Did you say a stoplight?” Jasmine asked, leaning forward like she hadn’t heard right.

  “That’s what she said,” Mae Frances said, chuckling. “Lord, and I thought Galveston was country.”

  “We’re close to bigger towns. El Dorado is right up the road. Camden is the other way, so it’s not like we’re isolated,” Rachel continued. She pointed out the passenger window. “That field is where I used to spend my summers with my cousins, tipping cows.”

  “Tipping cows?” Serena asked. “What does that mean?”

  “I know this is gonna sound crazy,” Rachel answered. “But when a cow sleeps standing up, and you tip them over while they’re still sleeping, they can’t get back up.”

  Every eye in the truck was on Rachel.

  “And why in the world would you do that?” Jasmine finally asked.

  “Yeah, is that supposed to be fun?” Serena added.

  Rachel shrugged. “It was funny to us.”

  “I ought to call PETA on you right now,” Mae Frances said.

  “Call them, because I’m sure they’d like to know how many mongrels died for that coat of yours,” Rachel shot back.

  “Look here . . .”

  “Okay, okay. Sorry. I was just messing around,” Rachel said, quickly trying to diffuse everything. She showed them a few more landmarks, shared a few more stories, and then pulled into a small grocery store. “I’m going to grab a few bottled waters. Do you all want anything?”

  “I need to pick up a couple of things for the hotel. Some juice and snacks for the kids for later tonight and then tomorrow,” Jasmine said, following her inside. It was amazing the transformation Serena was able to perform. Granted, Jasmine hadn’t agreed to see Simon, but emotionally, she did seem to be in a much better place.

  “Hello, ladies,” a friendly voice greeted them as they walked in the store. “Welcome to Steve’s.”

  “Hi,” Rachel said.

  Jasmine leaned in and whispered, “Is everyone always this friendly?”

  “All the time. I know you guys don’t even make eye contact in New York, let alone speak.” Rachel laughed.

  They gathered a few things and made their way up to the counter.

  “Are y’all here for the Jackson Family Reunion?” the clerk asked as she started ringing up their items.

  “We are,” Rachel said. “We’re Ruby Jackson’s nieces.” Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel saw Jasmine tense up.

  “Oh, I just adore Miss Ruby. I think I remember you. You’re Simon’s girl, right?”

  Rachel nodded.

  “Yeah, I used to have the biggest crush on your brother David when y’all came here for the summer. Tell him Veronica Andrews said hi.”

  “I sure will.”

  Veronica finished ringing everything up and said, “Your total is thirty-six seventy-nine. Will you be paying now or later?”

  “What?” Jasmine asked, speaking for the first time since they’d stepped to the counter.

  Veronica frowned. “I said: will you be paying now or later?”

  “You mean we have an option?” Jasmine asked in disbelief.

  Rachel shook her head as she removed two twenties from her wallet. “You’ll have to excuse her. She’s from New York City. She doesn’t know a thing about the honor system.”

  “I sure don’t. Because if you ask a New Yorker are they paying next week, they’ll say yes and you’ll never see them again.”

  “Which is exactly why I like my small-town living,” Veronica said as she handed Rachel her change.

  As soon as they were back in the car, Jasmine started telling Mae Frances and Serena about the “unbelievable honor system.” Rachel was happy to see her focused on something other than the drama with her father. Jasmine was actually laughing and smiling. But as they turned onto Main Street, and the center came into view, Rachel could only pray that Jasmine’s good mood would last.

  Chapter

  25

  Jasmine

  When the tires of Rachel’s SUV rolled over the dirt-covered space that looked like it was supposed to be a parking lot, Jasmine frowned. And when Rachel pulled the truck to a complete stop, turned off the engine, and glanced at Jasmine through the rearview mirror, Jasmine said, “What? You’re making a U-turn or something?”

  “No.” Rachel pushed open her door. “This is it. This is Jacqueline’s Hope.”

  From the front seat, Mae Frances leaned her head back and filled the car with her laughter. “Lawd, be an architect, and put this building back together again.”

  Jasmine would’ve laughed, too, if she weren’t in shock. Slowly, she slid out of the car, walked around to the other side, then moved next to Serena. The sisters stood like twins, with their mouths open in perfectly shaped Os and their eyes wide.

  “What is this?” Jasmine asked, her gaze still on the dilapidated building.

  “I told you, this is Jacqueline’s Hope.” Rachel pointed to a sign that hung high above the door and looked like it had been written in crayon. “We’re going to have a real sign put up next week; this was all that we could get on such short notice.”

  Jasmine shook her head. She knew it; she knew that this had been nothing but a trick to get her down to Arkansas. Why in the world had she ever trusted Rachel?

  When she found her words, Jasmine snapped, “I cannot believe this. I can’t believe you played me like this.”

  “What?” Rachel asked, her expression and her tone indicating she had no idea where Jasmine’s rage was coming from.

  “I can’t believe that you would make a joke out of something that’s so important to me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “This!” Jasmine shouted, pointing to the weather-worn, aged building with bars covering the windows.

  “This is the building that belongs to my aunt Ruby and she was kind enough to let us have it for free because she believes in your foundation and . . .” Rachel ended there as if she’d spoken a full sentence.

  “It’s nothing but a run-down warehouse.”

  “It’s the old Piggly Wiggly.”

  “And what the hell is Piggly Wiggly?”

  “You can’t be that bougie, Jasmine.” Rachel folded her arms. “Every black person in America knows that Piggly Wiggly is a grocery store.”

  “Well, whatever it was . . . that was . . . this building isn’t fit for my foundation. The Department of Health probably won’t even let us go in there.”

  With a glare, Rachel said, “We can go in.” Her neck moved with every syllable. “I’ve been working in there for the past week, and I can’t believe you’re so ungrateful.”

  “And why would I be grateful for this?”

  “Yeah, Rolita,” Mae Frances said, finally stepping out of the car. “How is Jasmine Larson supposed to feel good about this? This building’s got to be one hundred years old!”

  “No, Mae Frances,” Rachel said with a stiff smile. “One hundred years old—that would be the mutt that you carry around and wear as a coat.” Then she glanced at Jasmine, shook her head, whipped around, and marched toward the building.

  “You don’t want to test me, little girl,” Mae Frances grumbled as she stomped behind Rachel. “The last person who insulted me was Stephen Curry, and once I told LeBron about that, you saw what happened,” Mae Frances fussed. She was still muttering as she walked into the building behind Rachel, and the door closed on the rest of her words.

  Jasmine hadn’t taken a step away from the car. “I cannot believe this,” she said to Se
rena. “I can’t believe Rachel would try to make a fool out of me with my own foundation.”

  “I don’t think she would do that,” Serena said.

  “She’s always trying to do that. From the moment I met her, she’s tried to one-up me, tried to bring me down. She’s jealous and envious and wishes she were me. Usually I can smell her tricks coming, but I didn’t see this one at all.”

  “Why would she do that now?” Serena asked. “She’s trying to get you to accept her and her family. It wouldn’t make sense for her to do something crazy like that.”

  “It wouldn’t make sense to you because you have a brain.” With her forefinger, Jasmine tapped her temple. “Rachel doesn’t have one of these. So she can’t make sense of anything.”

  “Well, we should at least go inside.”

  “Why?”

  “Because everyone will be here soon, and maybe we can figure out what we’ll say to them.” Serena paused. “That sign says Jacqueline’s Hope, and you’re the spokesperson so you’re gonna have to make this work somehow.”

  “Ugh!” Jasmine growled. But she knew Serena was right, so she moved across the parking lot, kicking up dust along the way, thinking that it was a good thing that she had those Protect Your Pumps on her red bottoms, and thinking about all the things she could say to the people who were on their way. Then she thought about all the ways she could kill Rachel for even doing this.

  Then, she stepped inside and she paused.

  Her eyes scanned the huge open room, which was freshly painted bright yellow. But the smell of the paint didn’t bother her; how could it? Not when she took in the ten desks neatly lined up and evenly spaced, all polished to a high gloss. Black executive chairs sat behind each one and every desk was set up so that someone could sit down and get right to work. There were telephones on every desk, pads and pencils, too. Along one of the walls there was a long table holding four computers. Above the computers was a whiteboard with three names listed. And on the adjacent wall, there were three framed photos and above the pictures were the words WALL OF HOPE.

  Jasmine slowly walked toward that wall. “Oh, my goodness,” she said, pressing her hand against her chest. “Are these children missing?” she asked no one in particular.

  Rachel came to her side. “Yes, these three are the ones we were able to find out about in the two weeks it took for us to put this together.”

  “We’ve got to bring them home.” Then Jasmine turned to face Rachel. “I can’t believe you did all this in a week.”

  Rachel gave Jasmine a small nod and said, “Did you see the wall over here?”

  Jasmine turned to where Rachel pointed. There were more gold letters: WALL OF FAITH. Jasmine frowned as she stepped closer to the dozens of framed photos on that wall. Pictures of children she recognized. Pictures of children who’d been found and returned home.

  Rachel explained: “I know you don’t have a Wall of Faith in your other centers, but I thought of this because Jacqueline’s Hope has helped to bring so many children home and I want people to know that. I want people to know that with faith, we can move the children from that wall”—she pointed to the Wall of Hope—“to this one.”

  Jasmine looked from one wall to the next, then she fully faced Rachel. Before she could think about it, she pulled Rachel into her arms, holding her, squeezing her. But, after a couple of seconds, she took two giant steps back as if she realized that she’d just gotten a little caught up.

  “Uh . . . thank you, Rachel.” Jasmine lowered her eyes. When she looked up, she added, “Really, thank you so much.”

  Rachel smirked. “You’re welcome. But while you’re saying thank you, can you say you’re sorry for what you said to me when we were standing out there?”

  “But you’ve got to admit . . .”

  “Can I just get an apology?” She held her hand up to her ear.

  Not even a millisecond passed. Jasmine said, “I’m sorry.”

  “And you’ll never judge a book by its cover again?”

  “I won’t. But you have to admit it looks pretty raggedy out there.”

  “Yeah, Rawanda, I mean, you can at least plant some flowers. Put a couple of plastic ones into the ground. No one will notice.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes at Mae Frances, but this time she was smiling when she faced Jasmine again. “We are going to get the outside cleaned up, but it was more important to get this all done now. For the opening.”

  “Okay.” Jasmine looked around again. “Wow!” she said. “I’m just so overwhelmed. Thank you again for doing this.”

  Just as she said that, she heard chatter behind her and in walked Jacqueline and Nia, their heads close together as if they were sharing secrets. They were followed by Jordan; Lewis; Rachel’s baby girl, Brooklyn; and Zaya. Hosea and Lester pulled up the rear.

  “Look at this,” Hosea said, stepping over to Jasmine as he continued to scan the space. “It’s set up so people can get right to work.”

  “My wife did the dang thing, didn’t she?” Lester said, his chest swelling a bit. Then he reached his hand out. “You must be Serena; nice to meet you.”

  “Oh, I should’ve introduced you two,” Rachel said, but then she turned to the door. “There’s Mayor Bruce,” she said, pointing to a big-bellied man. “Jasmine, I need to introduce you.”

  She grabbed Jasmine’s hand as if that was the most natural thing in the world to do and led her to the door. As they got closer, Rachel said, “No wisecracks. He’s only the mayor part-time.”

  Jasmine took in the man who was wearing a pair of dress pants, a short-sleeve white shirt, and suspenders. “A part-time mayor?”

  “Yeah! You’d be part-time, too, if you only earned three hundred dollars a month.”

  “That’s it? So what does he do when he’s not being the mayor?”

  Right before they stepped up to the mayor, Rachel said, “He’s the manager over at the new Piggly Wiggly.” Then she greeted the mayor and wrapped him in an embrace.

  It took everything in her power to hold back her laugh, but Jasmine did it as she held her hand out toward the mayor; he swiped it away. “We don’t do handshakes in these parts.” He laughed and his whole body shook. “We believe in hugging.” He wrapped his arms around her, lifted her a couple of inches off the floor, jiggled her around a little, then planted her back on her feet. “We’re so honored to have you here, little lady,” Mayor Bruce said.

  Jasmine felt as if she’d just gotten off a roller coaster. It took a couple of moments to regain her balance once her stilettos were back on the floor.

  The mayor said, “No one cares about our kids, certainly not down here. With this here Jacquie’s Hope, we’ll be able to take care of our own.”

  Jasmine didn’t even bother to correct him.

  Two councilmen stepped through the door and from that moment, Jasmine was caught up in a whirlwind of introductions as Rachel took her from one person to the next. The room was festive, filled with chatter and laughter; it was a celebration.

  As she met the guests, everyone thanked her, told her how they’d made donations of five, ten, twenty dollars. And as they thanked her, Jasmine thanked them all back.

  By the time Rachel told Jasmine that the program was going to start, Jasmine was beaming. She was ready to get this center open.

  “You’ll have a few more interviews after we speak, but we want to start the official part of the program now,” Rachel said.

  Jasmine whispered the signal to Mae Frances, “It’s time,” and Mae Frances led the children to one of the rooms in the back of the center, since Jasmine never liked talking about the reason for the foundation in front of Jacqueline.

  Once they were out of the room, Jasmine, Hosea, Rachel, and Lester gathered in the corner behind the podium that had been set up. They were surrounded by several of the city’s dignitaries. One of the city councilmen spoke first, next came the mayor, and finally, Rachel stepped up to the podium.

  “I really want to thank everyo
ne not only for coming out today, but for supporting me as we put this center together. Jacqueline’s Hope is really important for our children and I’m so glad we now have this center here in this town that’s so close to my heart. I’m not going to take all the time talking because I want you to hear from the person who started Jacqueline’s Hope.” She turned to Jasmine. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to my . . .” Rachel cleared her throat. “Introduce you to Jasmine Cox Larson Bush.”

  Jasmine stepped forward, hesitated for a moment, and gave Rachel a halfhearted embrace. Turning to the crowd, Jasmine said, “I want to add my own gratitude to Rachel’s and thank you all so much for coming to the opening of Jacqueline’s Hope.

  “This foundation means so much to me. Back in 2010, I had the worst experience of my life. My daughter was kidnapped, and for days, I didn’t know if she was dead or alive.”

  The group was stone silent now, listening to her words.

  “But I held on to hope. That was all I had. Just hope and the Lord. My hope came from deep inside of me. And thank God He put that hope there because my husband and I and our family received very little support from the outside. When it’s our children who are missing, there is little media support.”

  “Amen!” the mayor shouted and held up his hand as if he were about to testify.

  “When it’s our children it may seem as if no one cares.”

  “That’s right!”

  “But we care!” Jasmine stated, as she got worked up. “We have to care. And we have to do everything we can to bring our babies home. I never gave up hope. No matter how dark it looked, I never did.” She paused. “And my baby came home!”

  It was as if they were in church. Because the people started dancing and shouting, all in step as if they heard some kind of organ music. They did their praise dances and when Jasmine glanced at her husband, he was dancing, too.

  She laughed and joined in.

  Some shouted and some raised their hands to the heavens.

  Through the hallelujahs and amens that rang out, Jasmine continued, “My baby is right back there . . .”