The Sapphire Pendant

by Dara Girard

  “What am I supposed to do when I see him? Am I supposed to pretend nothing’s happened? How about your mother who treats you with such contempt? Am I supposed to stand idly by and watch her mistreat you?”

  “Isn’t there anything in the Clifton past you wouldn’t want people to know?”

  “No. Nothing.” She took a step back, ready to leave.

  He reached out and pulled her to him. “Darling.”

  She closed her eyes, her heart responding to the tender word.

  “Please, try to understand. It may be a struggle at first, but you won’t need to be involved. I’ll handle everything.” He smoothed her hair then lightly stroked her face. With each gentle touch she felt herself weakening. “I’ll take care of things.”

  “You can’t handle this alone.”

  “With you by my side I won’t be alone.”

  “I want to be by your side, but I know that I will jeopardize your secrets.” Jessie lifted his hand and placed the ring in his palm, closing his fingers over it. “I can’t marry you.” She brought his hand to her lips. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t do this,” it was a quiet, primitive plea.

  I’m afraid. I’m afraid. I’ll fail you. She stared down at his hand unable to look at him. “I’m sorry,” she said again then opened the door.

  Syrah stood there with her hands balled into fists at her side. “Aunt

  Jessie you can’t leave ‘cause of me.”

  Jessie cupped her chin. “It’s not you, we’ll still be friends.”

  Her chin trembled. “It’s not the same. Please don’t leave.”

  Jessie felt tears sting her eyes, her heart constricted with a pain that was suffocating in its intensity. She ran out of the room.

  Syrah turned to her uncle, tears of anger and despair falling down her cheeks. “You have to make her come back.”

  Kenneth sat on the bed, forcing himself to breathe, though he felt as if Jessie had ripped out a vital organ, leaving him hollow. He gathered his pain and tucked it away. All that mattered now was Syrah. “I can’t.”

  “This is Grandma’s fault. She knows about Daddy and doesn’t care.”

  He covered his eyes. His mother knew? “Go tell Nathan that the party’s over.”

  “What about Aunt Jessie?” Syrah asked. When he didn’t reply, she turned and left, dragging her feet.

  A half hour later, Kenneth forced himself to come downstairs and found his mother clearing up napkins and used glasses on the coffee table. He had explained that straightening up was the job of the cleaning crew, but she never listened.

  “Did you know Ace had bruises on her back?” he asked her.

  She paused then continued to clean.

  “Tell me you didn’t know about it. Tell me that you didn’t know that her back is covered with bruises, just like mine. Tell me that this is all one huge surprise and that you’re heartbroken and sickened by it.” He swallowed, a part of him hoping she would.

  She kept her eyes lowered. “Kenneth—”

  He clenched his jaw. “You knew and you didn’t tell me? How could you have watched me take care of Eddie, knowing what he was doing to her?”

  “I didn’t want to believe it.”

  “You didn’t want to believe it and that meant it didn’t exist, right?” He rested his hands on the back of the couch and closed his eyes. “How does it feel to be there? To be in that comfortable shroud of denial?”

  “Try to understand, do.” His mother touched his arm in a fleeting gesture.

  He moved away, holding up his hands to fend her off. “Don’t touch me.” He took a deep breath. “Just explain to me why he’s still your favorite. Why you would do anything to protect him. I’m the one who pays for your holidays, buys you gifts, and never gets into trouble. I’m the one who loves you.” He lowered his voice. “I’d do anything for you.”

  “I’m proud of you, but Eddie has always been so lost. He’s never had your strengths or your talents.”

  “He has his own, which he’s never taken the time to develop. Did you know Jessie gave up her scholarship for him?”

  “He tries so hard, but he’s weak like I used to be. His heart is good.”

  Kenneth couldn’t believe what she was saying. “How can you compare yourself to him? He acts just like—” He couldn’t finish. “Why do you care about Eddie more than me?”

  Her eyes turned to stone. “Because you look like him. You look like that man who crushed my soul and left me as empty as a dried well. Oh, the joy I felt when you moved out cannot be shared.” Her lips tightened, her voice sharpened with bitterness. “Sometimes when I see that charming, handsome face of yours I want to slap it. It’s so cool, so deceptive. I watch the women throw themselves at you as I once had not knowing the evil behind your smile. You took me young and fed me with lies, all which I believed.”

  Kenneth picked up a glass and threw it against the wall. It shattered, falling to the floor like icicles. “You’re talking to me!” He pounded his chest, trying to break the hateful glare she directed at him. “I’m not him! I’m me, your son.”

  “You’ve even got his temper,” she sneered. “That blaze of anger that lashes out like a whip. I can see it in your face now.”

  He could feel it too. He could feel a white-hot fury storm up his back and tighten his hands into fists. He could not speak, the muscles in this throat constricting. To his mother he could never be anything but that man’s mirror, and there was no way to alter that.

  “A snake can’t escape its fate no matter how pretty it is,” she said.

  “But I’m still your son.”

  “You’re not my son! You’re the bastard of some teenage slut your father met before me. I only looked after you because I loved him. When I left him, I knew there was no one else for you. I was the only mother you knew. It was only Christian that I look after you. And I had to watch you succeed at everything my baby failed at...It was hard to pray to a god who was so unfair.”

  Kenneth stood still, afraid if he moved he’d collapse into dust. Breathe, breathe, breathe. “You’re not my mother?”

  Only she had ever heard that particular note of despair in his tone. He’d used it once before when he’d asked her why his daddy hated him. It reached through her painful memories and awakened her. The horrible realization of what she had done struck her full force. Her eyes widened. “Kenneth, I’m sorry.” She touched his hand.

  He leaped back as if she had burned him. His eyes darkened and his voice became as dangerous as a viper. “Never touch me again. Ever.” He spun on his heel and stormed into the kitchen. His stepfather stood near the door.

  “I’m not the enemy,” Charles said, taking in his son’s murderous glare. “Sit down.”

  “I can’t talk right now.”

  “Fine, then just listen.” He pulled out a chair and sat down. “I couldn’t help overhearing what your mother said.”

  His throat burned. “She’s not my mother.”

  “Be still.” Charles smoothed out his mustache. “I’ve always known about your father. I forced your mother to tell me about him one day when I discovered a letter he’d sent her.”

  Kenneth’s stormy expression didn’t change.

  “I met him. Yes.” He nodded. “Pierre Chevalier was an impressive figure. I let him talk about himself then gave him money to get out of our lives. That day I took claim of you. You became my son.” He wiped his glasses with a handkerchief. “I’ve seen you rage and I’ve seen you calm. I know you. You’re nothing like the man I met.” He placed the glasses back on his face. “Perhaps you have some similar facial characteristics, but that man had no heart, his eyes were soulless. In you I see a man haunted by shadows that don’t need to exist. You’re my son and I raised you to be compassionate and giving. I was glad when you moved out.”

  Kenneth turned away. “You too?”

  “Because your mother and your brother were not good for you. Eddie uses his past as an excuse for failure and your moth
er uses it as a crutch for guilt. It’s not right, but it’s the way it is.” His voice became firm. “You’re nothing like him.”

  “I have his hands,” Kenneth said, looking down at his own.

  “Funny, I always thought they looked like mine,” he said, resting his own large hands on the table.

  Kenneth sat down, acknowledging the similarity.

  Charles shifted awkwardly in his chair. “This is hard for a man to admit, but I think it’s something you need to know.” He cleared his throat. “Matilda is a beautiful woman, but that’s not the reason I married her. I took one look at you and wanted you as my own.”

  Kenneth glanced down, embarrassed by the sudden tears that moistened his eyes. “No, don’t say that.”

  Charles continued. “I wanted that fiery, intelligent young boy to carry my name. I knew he would make me proud. What I didn’t expect was that he’d make me love him like my own flesh and blood.”

  “Don’t,” Kenneth whispered in a choked voice. He held his hands together and continued to stare at the tabletop, hoping his father would stop so he wouldn’t embarrass them both.

  Charles grabbed his hands. “No matter your mother, no matter your father in the eyes of God and the law you belong to me. You are a Preston, claim it, own it, it is your right. The blood of the spirit flows mightier than the blood of the flesh and that’s what we have. A spiritual bonding.” His voice shook with feeling. “You are my son.”

  Kenneth shut his eyes. He wanted to speak, but his throat wouldn’t let words past.

  Charles understood the unspoken words. He squeezed Kenneth’s hands then stood.

  Once his father left the room, Kenneth rested his head on his arms and began to weep, his entire body aching from a pain so deep he didn’t know its cause. It clawed at his wounds and ripped at his scars. He continued to weep until the pain subsided, dissipating into a vow to continue to honor his father’s name, too make him proud. Soon he cried for what the vow would cost him—his heart, his love, his life. And on the other side of the wall, an old man cried with him.

  * * *

  Jack ducked as a potentially lethal high heel sailed by his head.

  Brooke glared at him. “How could you steal the wrong bracelet?!” she shrieked.

  He held up his hands in surrender. “It was the one she was wearing.”

  She tapped her foot with impatience. “Perhaps Stephanie was right and it wasn’t the same one.”

  “I told you I saw a girl wearing a similar bracelet at the ice cream shop. I think it was her. She must have switched them. I wasn’t really paying attention. I just took whatever she wore.”

  “Oh, shut up,” she snapped. “I wish you had warned me about your stupidity before I hired you.”

  Jack smoothed down his hair, letting the insult slide off him. “Watch it honey, I’m not the one in trouble here. You better hope she doesn’t open it.”

  Brooke narrowed her eyes. “That’s not your concern.”

  “Be careful. Luck only lasts for so long.”

  “Only idiots wait for luck. I make it myself.” She took off her other shoe and sat. She pulled her face into a pout. It wasn’t fair that there were so many obstacles to getting the bracelet back. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t earned it. She’d planned everything so well.

  “Why don’t you just ask for it back?”

  “Because I don’t like getting my hands dirty.” She’d learned early it was best to get other people to do your work for you. It was easier to come out clean that way. You can always lie afterwards. At least her psychological campaign was working with Rodney. Soon Nathan’s head would be on the chopping block and then they’d have to deal with something more.

  It was good to keep them busy. They might decide to sell, but no she wouldn’t give them that opportunity. She wanted them out—gone.

  “Too bad your ad didn’t work like Mrs. Ostick’s did.”

  She scowled. She wished people wouldn’t talk when she was thinking. “What about her?”

  “She’d lost her broach remember? Preston’s niece returned it to her.”

  Brooke jumped to her feet. “Shit!”

  Jack watched her wary unsure if he’d given her good news or bad.

  She swore again and stomped her foot. “God was giving me a sign and I completely missed it.” She pointed a finger at him. “Did you find anything else about Kenneth?”

  He rubbed his nose. He’d dug up dirt about Preston and found some things he didn’t think any man should have revealed. He’d make a lot more money through blackmail. “You know what you told me about him already sounded pretty explosive.”

  She tapped her foot.

  He cleared his throat. “Yes, I found some things,” he said vaguely. He quickly thought of a reason not to tell her. “But I promised Leticia I’d give it to her.”

  “Let me assure you that I can pay a lot more than some whore can.”

  “Do you want to blackmail him too?”

  “No. We’re going to write up a little story.” She trailed a finger along his jaw. “Try to remember back to your journalism days when you were fired for shady ethics.”

  Jack hesitated already reading her mind. “Preston’s a real respected person. I don’t think we need to take this to the papers.”

  Brooke fluttered her lashes. “I’m sorry. Did I ask for your opinion?”

  “How do you know The Journal will print it?”

  “Give them the right hook and they’ll print anything.”

  “Remember this is Randall County one of the richest counties in Maryland. We have an image to maintain and like to protect our own.”

  “Kenneth isn’t one of our own. They’ll print it and that will get the ball rolling. The other papers will follow like lemmings.”

  “You have no guarantee that—”

  “I will make sure that it’s in The Journal’s best interest to print the story. I know they enjoy their business. It would be very inconvenient if their advertising revenue suddenly dried up.”

  Jack still felt uneasy. “His dirt might fly out and hit you. I know about—”

  She began to smile. He knew that was a bad sign. “You’re beginning to get on my nerves,” she said softly.

  “I just—”

  Her smile widened. “I don’t want to hear your voice anymore. Just write. Don’t think, just write.” Her voice hardened. “And only what I tell you.”

  He sighed and nodded.

  She patted him on the cheek then turned. It was going to give Kenneth a one-two punch: one article to set him up and the other to knock him out.

  Chapter 27

  Kenneth stared at the computer screen, seeing nothing. A feminine voice broke into his thoughts. “You have a lovely office.”

  He turned to Olivia, he’d scheduled to take her to lunch, but he’d forgotten she was there. Of course, if he had been in his right mind, that would have been impossible. She was a painting of perfection. Her rich, dark hair was pulled back from her beautiful honey face. Her light red blouse shifted with every graceful movement. She was gracious in every thing she did, following all social etiquette.

  They were alike in many ways, which helped to create an instant affinity between them. They both knew the power of a mask and its many purposes. However, he could sense his mask cracking, years of wear causing fissures. He also wondered if he were losing his mind. Nothing could quell his haunting thoughts—words he could have said, things he could have done to stop Jasmine from leaving him. His mind had become his relentless tormentor and there weren’t enough Beethoven symphonies to drown it out.

  “Thank you,” he said absently.

  “I’ve really appreciated the time you’ve given me.”

  Their conversations were always like this: kind, cordial, empty. “It has been my pleasure.”

  He could feel Olivia watching him and see the family resemblance in her dark eyes. Or maybe he just imagined seeing Jasmine in her face. “What happened with Jessie?” she asked.
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  “I’m sure you’ve received an explanation.”

  Olivia moved her hand in an impatient motion. “But you love her and she loves you.”

  Then why did she leave? Why didn’t she trust him to take care of everything? Why didn’t she love him enough. “Livy, let’s say that you fell in love with a welder.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Okay.”

  “How would your family respond?”

  “They’d be horrified.”

  “But you love him, right?”

  “Yes, but I have to consider other factors like class distinction. We both know that can cause as much of a rift as culture. But you and Jessie don’t have that problem. You’re of the same culture and class status.”

  “But as you said there are other factors.”

  Olivia fell quiet, reading his eyes: love was not enough.

  Nathan burst into the room. He slammed the door behind him and stormed towards the desk. “We’ve got a problem.”

  His serious tone gave Kenneth no chance to tease him about his dramatic entrance. “What is it?”

  “Some files are missing.” He jangled change in his pocket. “Basically our receivable ones.”

  Kenneth swore.

  “What’s wrong?” Olivia asked baffled by the tension that had entered the room.

  “Sit down, Nate,” Kenneth ordered. “And stop jangling your change, you’re annoying me.”

  Nathan slid into a chair. “This could bankrupt us.”

  Olivia stared at them. Nathan looked like a man headed for the electric chair; Kenneth pensive. “Again, what’s going on?” she asked.

  “Our accounts receivable files are missing,” Kenneth explained.

  “Basically our lifeblood,” Nathan said.

  “That file provides us with a complete listing of our customers.”

  Olivia nodded. “And?”

  “And records of money owed are in these files.”

  “So with the file missing you can’t know who owes what,” she clarified. “Therefore you can’t send out bills.”

  Nathan again jangled change in his pocket. “Basically, we’re thrown on the mercy of our customers, like chickens at the mercy of a fox. I knew things were too good.”