by Dara Girard
Kenneth’s color deepened. “You’re not going to find anything. I’m a pretty dull guy.”
“So at what time did you tuck in your date the other night?”
“She was just a favor.” He didn’t know why he felt the need to explain. “Her parents are family friends and want her introduced to the right people.”
That gave her an idea. “Speaking of people, you haven’t seen my sisters in a long time.”
“I’ve seen them both recently.”
“Oh. Well, how would you like to come over for dinner sometime?”
He turned to her, suspicious. “Why?”
“Because it’s a nice thing to do.”
He looked back at the road. “I know that, but why are you asking me in particular?”
She stirred uneasily in her seat. “I want to thank you.”
“You already have.”
“I mean formally. I’m not too bad a cook…or, if you want, Teresa could cook an excellent pepper-pot stew.”
Kenneth tightened his grip around the steering wheel. He had a wild desire to say yes, just to shock her, but he knew she was up to something. After falling for a number of her pranks, he knew the pattern. “It’s a nice offer, but I’m really busy at the moment.”
“Of course,” she said, attempting to appear nonchalant. Inside, she was burning like a lit oil spill. He was turning her down, rejecting her like a bad credit card. She felt like crawling out the door and scraping her pride off the road. He probably never would turn Deborah down, or Tracy, or the infant he took to the Ashford mansion. “You could have just said no, instead of offering a lame excuse that you’re busy. We’re not friends, so you don’t have to use your nice-guy act with me.”
“Nice-guy act?” He smiled blandly. “Now, what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I, unlike most people, know the truth.”
He rubbed his chin, trying to loosen his tightening jaw. “And what would that be?”
“That you’re a fake. That you’re hiding the real you under a I. You play the game all other guys play, but you disguise it so cleverly. You use people—”
He changed gears with more force than necessary. “I’ve never used anyone.”
“You used me.”
He softly swore, but kept his voice level. “Look, you’ve got it all wrong. You always have.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
He stared at her, incredulous. “You’re the one who brought it up.”
“Will you please look at the road?”
He did, glancing up at the street sign. “Aw, hell, I’m going the wrong way.” Again he made a sudden U-turn.
“Do you always drive like this?” She held onto the door handles, her knuckles pale from strain.
“Only with you in the car.”
“I’m glad to know I have such an effect on you. I’d probably crash into a tree on purpose.”
“Jasmine—”
“Don’t call me that!”
“Why not? It’s your name, isn’t it?” He paused. “It’s a beautiful name.”
She laughed without humor. “Yes, my father had a sense of humor.”
“What’s wrong with being called Jasmine?”
“How would you like me to call you—”
“Don’t,” he warned, knowing the name that was on her lips.
It took an extra amount of restraint not to call him Kenny, the name for which he had given two boys bloody noses. No one could figure out why it bothered him so much.
“Then you understand,” she said.
“Fine, then. Jessie, we need to talk—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That’s because you enjoy being angry with me. You don’t want to know the truth.”
“The truth is that you hurt me like no one ever has, and you betrayed me.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “That’s all I need to know.”
Kenneth stared ahead at the smooth surface of the road until flashes of stars fell between his eyes. He squinted. Oh, hell, he wasn’t breathing again. He took a deep breath. Many thoughts crashed in his mind, but he couldn’t find the words to express them. They always came to the edge of discussing what had happened, but somehow she always pushed it to a standstill. It lingered between them like the scent of a rotten dish, at times faint, but still hanging in the air to be remembered.
* * *
They spent the rest of the drive in silence. Kenneth turned on the radio, but neither listened to the soothing sound of the steel pan filling the air, too wrapped in their own thoughts to care. He dropped her off in front of her house, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, determined not to say another word.
“Thank you,” she grumbled, opening the door.
She broke his resolve with those two words. Though they were spoken reluctantly, he felt that maybe he had a chance to redeem himself. He grabbed her hand.
Jessie’s first instinct was to pull away, but she didn’t. She looked down at his hand and wondered if she had suffered a concussion, something to explain the strange fluttering in her stomach and heart. She turned to him, her eyes questioning.
“I know I’m asking too much of you, but one day—it doesn’t matter when—just one day, would you allow me to explain what happened?”
She opened her mouth to say no, that no excuse he gave would make her forgive him, but instead of a cutting remark, she found herself nodding. His face split into a brilliant grin—his special grin.
“That doesn’t mean I’ll believe you,” she said.
He let her hand go, and just as quickly as the smile had come, it disappeared. “And don’t expect me not to know you’re up to something.”
She winked with teasing malice. “It gives me a strange pleasure to know I can still make you nervous.”
“Don’t think I won’t figure it out.”
“I’ll let you do that.”
Jessie didn’t know why his suspicion annoyed her. She got out of the car and walked up the porch steps of the house she shared with her sisters. Her calm demeanor hid the anger inside. How dare he be so confident that she was up to something! Okay, so she was up to something, but he had no right to suspect her.
Both Michelle and Teresa met her at the door as Kenneth’s car wheels accelerated, kicking up gravel.
“Wendy called me and told me what happened,” Michelle said.
“We brought your car home,” Teresa added.
Jessie nodded, then winced. “Thanks.”
“Are you all right?” She put her arm around Jessie’s shoulders.
Jessie shut the door, feeling suddenly drained. “I’m fine.” Why couldn’t she have had a romantic accident, like getting hit by a car while saving a child’s life, instead of getting knocked out by a tennis ball?
“So, how did it go with Prince Charming?” Teresa asked.
“It didn’t go anywhere. I asked him over for dinner, but he refused.” That fact still stung.
Michelle laughed. “He was probably afraid you would poison him.”
“Michelle!” Teresa scolded.
“Well, at least you got his attention,” she said, leading her sister into the kitchen. “I have to say…that was very clever of you.”
Jessie scowled. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“I know. That’s what makes it so perfect.” She gently pushed her into a chair. “Wendy told me that he carried you off the court into the shade of a maple tree. She said it all looked very romantic. I’m sure you would have enjoyed it too.” She grinned maliciously. “Had you been conscious.”
Chapter 6
The shower’s hot water stung his skin without mercy. Kenneth stuck his head under the rush and closed his eyes in a fruitless attempt to douse his temper—or whatever it was that made blood rush to his brain and other parts of his anatomy. Damn that woman! She was taunting him, and she was the only woman who could. It didn’t make sense.
He shut off the shower and grabbed a large
towel. He wrapped it around his waist, then went to the mirror and wiped off the condensation. He stared at his reflection through the haze. She thought he was a fraud; she was too close to the truth. He turned away and turned off the lights.
He toweled himself dry, threw the towel in the direction of his bed, then watched it slide off and land on the floor. He went to his dresser and began to change. For all he had accomplished, there were certain things he could never change. No amount of money could alter his past. That fact still bothered him. Once dressed, he went downstairs to his desk.
He just wanted a chance to explain, but he knew there was no excuse that would make her forgive him for first standing her up on prom night, and then seeing him with another girl on the same evening. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell her why; he wasn’t sure he could trust her. He wasn’t sure he wanted to trust her. He sat at his desk, burying his face in his hands when the memories came back, as they always did, unwanted guests of his battered conscience.
He remembered the pale peach walls of the high school, and resting against them as security passed. He had successfully avoided them and found Jessie at her locker before the class bell rang.
“We need to talk,” he had said.
Her hair was short at the time, and she had worn a baggy tracksuit. Her eyes, once so lively, were dark. “Leave me alone.”
He had grabbed her wrist, desperately hoping she would give him a chance to explain, hoping that he could miraculously come up with the perfect word or statement that would make her stay. “Jas, please don’t go. Give me a chance to—”
“Let me go, or I’ll hurt you,” she had warned.
He had wanted her to hurt him, to pound his chest and get all the anger out of her, so that he would get a chance to explain. But her eyes had blazed with such anger that he had known it was hopeless. He had released her wrist and watched her run down the hall, wiping away tears with the back of her hand.
He let his hands fall to the desk and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the memories to fade away, as they always did.
The doorbell rang while he was reading Business Week. He ignored it, focusing on Beethoven’s heavy piano concerto blasting from his speakers. It was the only music that was able to drive certain thoughts from his mind.
The doorbell rang again.
He turned down the volume and went to the door. “Who is it?” he asked, seeing nothing but a small blue cap through the peephole.
“It’s me, Uncle Ken,” a soft voice replied.
He opened the door and stared down at his ten-year-old niece. She stood on the doorstep with a huge green backpack and a suitcase with a handle that was threatening to break. The suitcase itself was being held together by packing tape stretched twice around the middle. His eyebrows shot up. “Ace, what are you doing here?”
She lifted her suitcase and went inside. She was a sturdy-looking kid with a proud heart-shaped face and sharp brown eyes, which she hid under a blue baseball cap—today turned backwards. “I came for a visit.”
Kenneth shut the door behind her and scratched his head. “Your father didn’t call to tell me that he was sending you.”
“Well…that’s what I’m here to talk about.”
“I see.” He took the suitcase from her; the handle immediately ripped and the bag fell to the ground. Kenneth pushed it against the wall with his foot. “Are you hungry?”
“A little.”
“Come on, then.”
Fortunately, his housekeeper kept his fridge full, so he was able to make her a chicken sandwich and lemonade. He put the food in front of her, sat down and waited for her to explain. When she didn’t say anything, he spoke. “Okay, what’s going on?”
Ace avoided his gaze. “Yum. This sandwich is very good, Uncle.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He rested his forearms on the table, prepared to stay there until he got the entire story. “A year has passed by, and I’m still waiting.”
Ace reluctantly put the sandwich down. “All right. I admit it. I ran away.”
It wasn’t the first time, but she had never run to him before. Her father lived in Georgia, which was quite a distance from this Maryland town. “How did you get here?”
“Greyhound.”
“They just let a kid take the Greyhound across states?”
Ace shrugged. “Hey, as long as you have the money, they don’t ask questions. From there, I took a taxi.”
“Where did you get the money?”
She took a bite of her sandwich and chewed for a moment. “I saved. I had a job.”
“Doing what? What kind of job would they give you?”
“Retrieving stolen items.”
Kenneth stared at her for a moment, hoping he had misunderstood her. “What?”
Ace licked her lips. “Promise you won’t get mad.”
He sighed. He must have spent all his anger today. “Just tell me.”
Her words came out slowly. “You know how people, when they lose things, they’ll put up reward money?”
He nodded.
“I figured that if I returned their things to them, I’d get the reward money, but I’d have to steal it first.”
Kenneth covered his face and groaned.
“You aren’t angry, are you?”
“Strangely, no.”
“I gave it all back,” she said, after a relieved sigh. “I just took little things, like jewelry and pets. Pets were the easiest, because animals like me.”
Kenneth rested his chin in his hand. “Business is closed permanently now, right? Nobody’s dog is suddenly going to go missing?”
She lifted her sandwich and took a large bite. “Nope. Now that I’m here, I’m fine. I’m really glad to see you.” She smiled, looking like a chipmunk with its cheeks filled with nuts. “I’m—”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”
She swallowed. “Dad does.”
“Well, I’m not talking about your dad. I don’t want you to.”
“I’ll do anything you say,” she promised. “I am really glad to see you.”
“I know, little dove.” He patted her cheek. “I’m glad to see you too, but your dad’s probably worried about you.”
Her smile quickly disappeared, like a passing wind. “Nah, I left him a note.”
“How long were you planning to visit?”
“Not long. Perhaps five years or so. Then I can get a real job and move out.”
Kenneth fell back in his chair, as if a boxer had hit him with a mighty punch. He wouldn’t overreact. He would have a mild stroke, maybe a heart attack, but he wouldn’t overreact. “You mean you’ve come here to stay?”
“Just till I’m grown,” she assured him. “I won’t be any trouble, I promise.”
“What’s wrong with home?” He knew the answer, but asked anyway.
Ace’s serious eyes grew hard, making her look much older. “Because I hate it there. Anyway, Dad doesn’t want me. I was a mistake, remember?”
Kenneth stood to get something to drink, his mouth suddenly dry. “Your father wasn’t thinking when he said that.”
“That’s because he was drunk,” she spat out in a bitter tone. “He’s always drunk.”
Kenneth banged his cup against the counter, annoyed that it was plastic. He felt like shattering something. His younger brother had a serious alcohol problem, but no one could seem to get through to him. He shook his head. “Ace, I’m a busy man. I don’t know what to do with kids.” He poured his drink and took a healthy swallow.
She came over to him and touched his sleeve. “I won’t be any trouble. I don’t eat much, and I’m clean, and I’ll help out. I’ll be so good, you won’t even know I’m here.” She looked up. Her eyes pleaded with him.
Kenneth stared out the window, shaking his head. He loved her, but she wasn’t his. He remembered the first time he’d held her, felt the soft curls on her head and looked at her tiny brown eyes, hoping the world would be kind. He’d wanted her, but couldn’t ha
ve her, and as time passed, he knew it had been for the best. He had been young and struggling, and hadn’t had much to offer.
Now he had the money, but not the time or the temperament. He couldn’t be a father. What if he unintentionally hurt her? He would never forgive himself. But he couldn’t send her back right away. He needed to think of something.
She tugged on his sleeve again. “Please don’t make me go back.” Her voice shook, but she steadied it. “I came all this way. Please.”
He took off her hat. Her hair needed to be washed. Her jeans hung over her shoes, and her shirt smelled musky, like it hadn’t been washed in a while. He cupped her chin and stared into her face. His voice lowered. “It got really bad, huh?”
“Dad sprained his ankle because he was so drunk that he tripped over his slippers and fell down the stairs.” She covered her mouth and laughed, but it wasn’t a beautiful sound; it attacked Kenneth’s ears like nails against a chalkboard. He knew her pain and the terrible demon that trapped them both.
“Well, you won’t see me doing that,” he replied grimly. “For now, you can stay here. But I can’t tell you that it will be fun.”
Ace nodded. “I’m glad I’m here. I hate my dad.”
“No. Don’t say that.” Her words were like a lost echo in his mind.
“Why not? It’s true.”
“Because it hurts your spirit.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” He gave her back her hat. “And you’re here because you’re visiting me. Nobody needs to know you ran away.”
“Okay.”
“Why don’t you take a shower before going to bed?”
Ace backed away from him, embarrassed. “I must smell pretty gross, huh?”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “We all smell gross once in a while, but don’t wash your hair yet. When Ms. Rose comes, she can help you with that.”
Kenneth showed her where she would stay and the toiletries. When she was ready for bed, he tucked her in. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m so glad I’m here with you.”
He held her close for a moment, inhaling the clean scent of Ivory soap, wishing he could repeat the same sentiments. If only he could offer her more than her father did. He loved his niece, but she posed a problem: a painful reminder of things he couldn’t change, a reminder of a past that would always haunt him. And the possibility that he might not be good for her. He kissed her forehead. “Go to sleep.”