Dream Big, Stella!

by Ashley Farley

  I hold my tongue. I won’t say all the things I need to say to this woman in front of Jazz. “We’re on our way to Sunday school. Why don’t you get settled? I’ll bring Jazz over afterward. Coincidentally, my mom’s visiting for a few days. She’s been staying in your suite. You’ll have to take the other one.”

  “But . . .” She starts to protest and then clamps her lips shut.

  I’m sure she’s thinking about the cleaning necessary to make the other suite habitable. But that’s not my problem. Jazz and I stroll off hand in hand down the driveway.

  Jazz’s cheerful mood from earlier has disappeared, and she walks in silence to church. I should try to lift her spirits, but I can’t think of a single positive thing to say about her mother’s sudden return.

  I drop Jazz at her classroom, grab a coffee from the fellowship hall, and find my way into a bible study geared for my age group. People stare, but no one comments on my bald head.

  Jazz and I agreed we’d only go to Sunday school, but when I pick her up from her classroom, she begs me to take her to church. I recognize the stall tactic, and I go along with her without an argument. It would’ve been nice for Naomi to give us advance notice of her return, not only so I could prepare Jazz but so I could prepare myself.

  On the way back to the farm, we stop in at the pharmacy and order grilled cheeses and chocolate shakes for lunch. Jazz, wearing the biggest mope face ever, doesn’t touch her food.

  “Come on, Jazz, is it that bad?” I ask, taking a bite of my sandwich.

  Her eyes fill with tears. “Why can’t I live with you? You make me food, and we do fun stuff together, and I’m never scared.”

  A chill travels my spine. “Are you scared when you’re with your mom?”

  Jazz nods as fat tears trickle down her cheeks.

  Is this child in danger? Is Naomi abusive? Damn it! I wanna know where Derrick is in all this. “What does your mommy do that scares you?”

  “She yells at me a lot, and sometimes when she’s sleeping, I can’t wake her up.”

  “So . . .” I set my sandwich down on the plate and reach for Jazz’s hand. “Remember when I told you that your mom was sick inside, and she went away to get help so she’d feel better?”

  “I remember,” she says, staring up at me with big round eyes.

  “Well, the doctor sent her home because she’s better.” I have no idea if this is true. Is a six-year-old too young to have a cell phone? “I don’t think you’ll be scared anymore, but if you ever are, I want you to come find me. I’m usually at the cottage or in the main building. And there’s always a security man on patrol. You know, the guys we always wave at in the white truck with the blue lights on top?”

  “Martin,” she says.

  “That’s right. Martin is one of them. But there are a couple of others. If you ever need help, you flag one of them down. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I nudge her with my arm. “You’re not going to let that perfectly good chocolate milkshake go to waste, are you?”

  She brings the straw to her lips, but she takes only a sip.

  I try everything I can think of, but I can’t get her to eat. Finally, I give up and pay the bill, and we walk back to the farm in silence.

  While I pack her things in her suitcase, Jazz sits on the end of the bed with her arms hugging her belly as though it aches. It’s nearly two o’clock by the time I walk Jazz over to the carriage house.

  My heart sinks when Naomi swings open the door to her suite. A sheen of perspiration covers her face, and there’s a wild gleam in her eyes. I look past her into the room. Clothes are strewn across the floor and beds are unmade. She’s far from being well. How can I possibly leave this child alone with her?

  I tighten my grip on Jazz’s hand. “Maybe it would be better if Jazz stays with me for a few more days. At least until you get settled.”

  Naomi swipes her forehead with the back of her hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll be perfectly fine. Come on in, sweetheart.” She steps out of the way so Jazz can enter. “Let me finish cleaning the room, and we’ll go out for some fresh air.”

  What has she been doing for the past three hours? I wonder.

  Jazz removes her iPad from her suitcase and sits down on the edge of the mattress.

  “Where’d you get that?” Naomi asks.

  “Stella bought it for me when I was in the hospital,” Jazz answers without looking at her mother.

  Naomi’s gaze shifts to me. “The hospital?”

  “You’ve been gone a long time. We should talk. In private.” Brushing past Naomi, I kneel down in front of Jazz. “Your mommy and I are going downstairs for a minute. Will you be okay up here by yourself?”

  “Whatever,” she says, and I can tell she doesn’t want me to go.

  I follow Naomi down the stairs. When we reach the lounge, she turns to face me. “My child was in the hospital? How dare you keep that from me.”

  “That’s so ridiculous, it’s laughable. You’re a narcissistic bitch, Naomi, who doesn’t deserve to have a kid as awesome as Jazz. Did you ever once consider my feelings? No! You just assumed I would be willing to take care of your daughter. Lucky for you, I adore Jazz. Otherwise I would’ve reported you to social services.”

  There’s fear in her voice when she asks, “But you didn’t, did you?”

  “Not yet. But I will if you give me reason to. It took the police forty-eight hours to locate you when Jazz came down with bacterial meningitis.” Naomi appears grief-stricken. “That’s right, Naomi. Bacterial meningitis. We had quite a time of it. I thought we might lose her.”

  “I don’t understand. Why wasn’t I notified?”

  “I suggest you ask your doctor in Arizona that question. He didn’t want to disrupt your therapy. Don’t get me wrong. I applaud you for seeking help. It’s your manner of going about it that I have a problem with. And where is your husband in all of this? Oh, that’s right. I forgot. He’s fly-fishing in Montana. Except that he’s been back from his little trip for weeks now.”

  Naomi tenses. “You still don’t know, do you, Stella?”

  I stop pacing and turn to face her. “Know what, Naomi?”

  “You’re pathetic.”

  “No! You’re the pathetic one.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of movement in the entryway. My mother’s blonde head as she’s exiting the front door. How much did she hear?

  I step toward Naomi, getting close to her face. “I’m warning you, nothing better happen to that little girl up there,” I say, pointing at the ceiling.

  “Or else what, Stella?”

  “Or else you’ll have to answer to me.” It’s a stupid thing to say, but the only thing I can think of in the moment. Naomi isn’t afraid of me. She isn’t afraid of anyone, because everyone around here always caters to her needs.

  I storm out of the carriage house, and with tears blurring my vision, I stride down to the lake. Dark clouds are building in over the mountain range. Is it supposed to storm? I don’t remember hearing the forecast.

  I don’t see Mom, sitting on the pier, until I nearly trip over her. “Jeez, Mom,” I say, gripping her shoulder as I prevent myself from falling.

  Craning her neck to look at me, she asks, “What on earth did you do to your hair? Wait. Let me guess. This has something to do with Opal’s leukemia. What exactly were you trying to prove by shaving your head?”

  “I wasn’t trying to prove anything. I was trying to show Opal how much I love her.” I start back in the direction I came.

  “You’re not only pathetic, Stella, you’re a fool,” she says to my retreating back.

  I spin around. “So, you were eavesdropping.”

  “Somebody has to save you from yourself. It certainly won’t be my brother or my mother.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? And why am I a fool?”

  Tucking her long legs beneath her, she gracefully rises to her feet. “Being here has brought back so many w
onderful memories of summers past. Jasmine used to grow wild along the side of our cottage. Billy loved that sweet smell. He said it was soft and delicate like me.”

  The song lyrics come crashing back to me.

  Jasmine, sweet as a summer blossom,

  Wherever you go,

  Whoever you’re with,

  You’ll always be in my heart,

  My Jasmine, my love.

  My voice is barely audible. “You’re Jasmine.”

  Mom’s face is grim. “I am . . . I was . . . Whatever.”

  Thoughts race through my mind. None of them make much sense. “I don’t understand. Why would Naomi name her child after Billy’s old lover?”

  Mom shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “I’m sure it’s a coincidence. Naomi’s married to Derrick. He’s Jazz’s father.”

  “Stella, please. I can’t believe you haven’t figured this out yet. I knew the minute I saw Jazz. She has Billy’s eyes. Billy is Jazz’s father.”

  I shake my head to clear it, to allow this revelation to sink in. “Are you saying Jazz is my half sister?”

  “It appears so.”

  The possibility has always been there, lurking at the corners of my mind, but I was too afraid to hope for fear of the letdown if it proved not to be true. I’m so tired of the secrets and the lies. I glare at Mom. “Why are you still here?”

  “I keep asking myself the same question. I figure I’ll know when it’s time to leave.”

  “No one wants you here, Mom. Do us all a favor. Come down off your weed cloud and get on the next plane back to New York.”

  I start off again toward the cottage, but Mom grabs me by the arm, holding me back. “Please, Stella. I want to work things out, not only with you but with Brian and Opal.”

  “I remember that day in New York, Mom, when we saw Opal on the street. She came all that way to see us, and you were so rude to her. Your own mother? I don’t blame Opal if she never forgives you.”

  “You wouldn’t understand this, Stella, having never experienced that kind of betrayal. When my family turned their backs on me, I cut them out of my heart and my mind. I admit I was hard on Opal. She tried to make things right. At least in the beginning. But Brian taking Billy’s side hurt me to the core.” Mom’s chin quivers, and she pauses for a minute to collect herself. “Our stepfather, Robert, was a lousy husband and father. He spent much of his time on the golf course, and there were often rumors about other women. As a result, Brian was extremely overprotective of our mother and me. He always had my back. Until he didn’t. Until he turned on me.”

  Mom’s admission tugs at my heartstrings. “I imagine that was difficult for you.”

  “I want to put the past behind me and make things right. Unfortunately, neither Opal nor Brian will see me. Will you talk to them for me, Stella?”

  Anger pulses through me. “No way! You’re on your own here, Mom. You all have used me as a pawn against one another long enough.”

  Thirty

  I click on Brian’s number as I’m marching back to the cottage. When he answers on the second ring, I blurt, “Why didn’t you tell me Jazz is my half sister?”

  He lets out a sigh. “How’d you find out?”

  “I’ll tell you how I didn’t find out. From you. You should’ve told me, Uncle Brian. Instead, I had to hear it from my mother, who claims she realized it the first time she saw Jazz.”

  “Then why didn’t she tell you? Hannah should’ve told you about your father a long time ago.”

  “I won’t argue with that.” I burst through the door of the cottage, but the small living room is confining, and I leave again. Ignoring the pitch-black sky, I head up toward the barn.

  “It doesn’t matter who did or didn’t tell me. The point is, I’ve been taking care of her all this time, and I should’ve known. By the way, Naomi’s back. She’s staying in the carriage house. Jazz is with her.”

  “How does Naomi seem?”

  I search for the right word. “Frazzled.”

  “Hmm. Not good, considering she just got out of rehab.”

  When the first raindrops begin to fall, I duck my head and keep walking. “I feel sorry for Jazz. She admitted she’s scared when she’s with her mother.”

  “Do you think Naomi is physically abusing Jazz?”

  “I honestly don’t know. Jazz told me that Naomi yells at her a lot, and sometimes when Naomi’s sleeping, Jazz can’t wake her up. But I was afraid to flat out ask Jazz if her mother hits her.”

  “Do you want me to come to the farm, Stella? You sound like you could use a friend.”

  “Friend? I hoped we could be friends, Brian. But now I’m not so sure. Friends are honest with each other. You’ve been anything but.”

  “I haven’t been dishonest with you, Stella. I’ve been following Billy’s wishes. I worried this would happen. I warned him I was too close to the situation. I tried to convince him to let one of my law partners handle his estate, but he would hear nothing of it.”

  I experience a new wave of anger, this time directed at Billy. The rest of them may have used me as a pawn, but Billy manipulated me. “Whatever. I can’t talk about this anymore. I gotta go.” I reach the barn and turn around, heading back to the cottage.

  “Wait! Before you hang up, I want to thank you for what you did yesterday. Shaving your hair. . . that’s something Billy would’ve done.”

  “Really? Because Opal says it’s something Mom would’ve done.”

  He laughs. “Maybe. But for different reasons. Hannah would’ve done it for the thrill. Or to get attention. Billy would’ve done it for the show of love.”

  I don’t know how to respond, so I say nothing, the sound of my heavy breathing filling the line.

  “I have something for you,” Brian says. “Something Billy asked me to give you when the time was right. Can I drop it off? I won’t stay long.”

  I’m intrigued, but I’m not in the mood to see Brian. “Not today. Maybe tomorrow. Call me.”

  I end the call and click on Jack’s number. When I hear his voice, I fight back the tears. “Something’s happened, and I really need to see you. Can you come over?”

  “I’ll be there in ten.”

  I’m relieved when he doesn’t ask questions. I need to see his reaction when I tell him Jazz is my sister.

  I’m nearing the cottage when the skies open up, and even though the rain pounds hard against my head and shoulders, I walk the rest of the way.

  Five minutes later, I’m standing inside the door, water dripping off my clothes and pooling onto the floor at my feet, when Jack arrives.

  “Stella. What is it? You’re scaring me.”

  “Billy is Jazz’s father. She’s my half sister.”

  I watch his face closely as disbelief transitions into confusion and then into that aha expression when everything makes sense. “You didn’t know, did you?”

  He narrows his eyes. “How would I have known?”

  “You knew Billy.”

  “But not that well. How did you find out?”

  “According to my mother, it’s quite apparent. Jazz has Billy’s eyes. Amber eyes are rare. Did you never notice them?”

  He thinks about this a minute. “I can’t say that I did.”

  The air conditioner kicks on, blowing cold air from the vent above my head. I begin to shake uncontrollably.

  “You’re freezing. We need to get you into some dry clothes.” Jack disappears into the bedroom.

  While he’s gone, I strip off all my clothes, dropping them in a wet mound at my feet. When he returns, I’m completely naked. He moves toward me with my bathrobe, but I snatch the garment from his hands and hurl it across the room. This is not how I imagined our first time together, but I can wait no longer. I’m all over Jack as I peel off his clothes. He takes me in his arms and kisses me. His skin warms me, and my shivers subside. He swoops me off my feet and carries me to the bed.

  Our hands press against flesh as we paw
at one another, desperate to get closer, to become one. When he enters me, his body consumes me, and I become whole. I’ve been on a long journey, working my way toward this man. I wasn’t born for Hannah or Billy. I was born to be with Jack. Our lovemaking is exquisite, raw passion coupled with our tender feelings for one another. We climax together, but he remains inside of me.

  “I’m absolutely certain I felt the earth move,” he says, burying his face in my neck.

  I laugh. “That was thunder.” I push his head up so I can see his face. “Did you mean what you said when you first saw my hair?”

  “About me loving you?” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Of course I meant it. I love you with my whole heart.”

  “And I love you too, Jack Snyder. I’ve never said that to a guy before. I’ve never been in love before. Please, don’t break my heart.”

  “You have nothing to worry about. I will treasure your beautiful heart.”

  As the storm rages outside, peace settles over me inside the cottage. We spend the rest of the afternoon and evening in bed, exploring each other’s bodies and sharing our deepest secrets. Around eight o’clock, when hunger gets the best of us, we’re forced to think about food. We’re rummaging through the contents of the refrigerator, me in my robe and Jack in his boxers, when there’s a loud knocking at the door.

  The worst of the storm, the thunder and lightning, has moved on, but rain continues to fall in sheets. “I wonder who’s out in this weather,” I say, wrapping my robe tighter as I cross the living room to the door.

  A wild-eyed and dripping-wet Naomi barges in. “Please tell me Jazz is with you.”

  Cold dread travels my spine. “I haven’t seen Jazz since I left the carriage house hours ago.” I catch a whiff of alcohol and notice her bloodshot eyes. “You’ve been drinking.”

  She wrings her hands. “It’s Cecily’s fault for leaving a bottle of wine in the refrigerator. The day has been so stressful. Facing ghosts, and Jazz has been difficult, complaining that she’d rather be with you. I just needed something to take the edge off.”