Black Market Baby

by Tabra Jordan

  Topaz Publishing

  Reading Entertainment for the Entire Family

  Copyright© March 2012, Tabra Jordan

  Cover Art: Dawne Dominque Copyright September 2011

  Editor: Kase J. Reed

  Line Editor: Topaz Publishing

  ISBN: TPEB000000023

  WC: 6,704

  Genre: Inspirational, Mystery, Drama

  Topaz Publishing, LLC

  USA

  www.topazpublishingllc.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fiction or used fictitiously. All rights are reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form except when quoted briefly in reviews.

  This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part by any means without written permission from the publisher. Contact Topazpublishing@aol.com for further details.

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  Topaz Publishing, LLC

  Black Market Baby

  A Lifetime of Lies

  Jillian grew up in a wealthy and loving interracial family. All her life, she suffered with debilitating nightmares. During these dreams, Jillian is stolen from the safety of her crib. Something is awry. Jillian’s skin is much darker than her siblings; however, no one seems to notice or care.

  After six years of marriage, Jillian’s husband wants a child. How can she have a baby with thoughts of kidnapping looming in her mind? She needs closure, and she’ll go to any length to find the truth. Inspirational, Interracial, Christian Romance, Drama, Mystery. Tabra Jordan, http://www.topazpublishingllc.com Available in E-Book, and Kindle

  Thank you for buying a product of Topaz Publishing

  Quality Reading for the Entire Family

  Black Market Baby

  By

  Tabra Jordan

  CHAPTER ONE

  “I love you,” Jillian whispered, as she draped a red necktie around her husband’s neck. “You work too hard, Lake. You know—we really need to get away.”

  Lake fixed the collar on his white shirt. “It’s hard to believe you don’t have a job, and yet your social calendar is tighter than mine.”

  Jillian beamed. “Mother keeps me busy with garden parties, and tea parties. I swear, those women will celebrate anything.”

  “I know.” He smoothed his tie into place. “Secretly, your mother is a closet party animal.” A chortle rumbled in his chest. “She’ll find any reason to break out the champagne.”

  “Lake.” Lake always had a healthy dose of humor. But this time, Jillian saw sincerity in her husband’s emerald eyes.

  “Well it’s true.” He raised a brow. “Don’t deny it.”

  Pretending to be angry, Jillian marched to the window and opened the drapes. Immediately, the sunshine revealed their tousled and unmade bed. “Don’t ever let her hear you saying that. Mother is sensitive.”

  “Okay,” he teased, throwing his voice toward the window. “Mother Ester, you’re a lush, sweetheart. Go to rehab.”

  “Stop that!” Jillian shook her head. Delighted by her husband’s bad jokes, she gathered his terry robe from the floor.

  “All right.” Half dressed; Lake sat down on the lounger, and then pulled his wife upon his lap. She tumbled about him with a giggle. “You win,” he admitted, with a half-smile. “Try to relax today.” Lake placed his fingers beneath his wife’s chin and studied her weary face. “Are those bags under these beautiful brown eyes?”

  “I don’t have bags.” She pushed his hand away.

  “That’s enough. You’re staying home today. You need to rest.”

  Wringing her hands, Jillian became anxious. She turned from her husband’s suspicious gaze. “Mother isn’t working me too hard, Lake. It’s the dreams. They’ve come back.”

  “Oh, darling. I’m so sorry.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Just look at you. You’re a nervous wreck.”

  Jillian moved from her husband’s grasp and stood up. “I’ve been seeing the therapist, again.” She closed her long silk robe, and then turned off the lamp beside the bed.

  Appearing miffed, Lake got up and swaggered toward the bathroom. “I told you that woman was an impostor. You need professional help. I’m not paying her a mint just so you can wallow in and out of nightmares almost every night?”

  “I know, sweetheart.” With a hopeful glint, she turned to face her husband. “You’ve never had faith in Dr. Vega. But this time, we’re on to something. I think we know why I’m having these crazy nightmares.”

  Lake picked up his dress shoes, then sat down on the side of the bed. “It’s the same dream over and over. You dream some man is taking you from your crib, right?”

  “Yes, Lake. I keep dreaming some man is taking me from my bed.” Instinctively, she covered her nose. “He smells terrible. If I ever encountered that horrible odor, I’d remember. Mother assured me, I was well protected as an infant. I have no idea why I’m so petrified in those dreams.”

  “Perhaps the gardener heard you crying and came into the nursery.”

  “Jesus doesn’t scare me. Plus, he doesn’t smoke.”

  “So, there was smoke?” He slipped on his shoes and stood up.

  Jillian walked to the window. “Yes. I distinctly smelled smoke.”

  “Was there a fire, perhaps?” Lake reached on the bed for his belt.

  “No.” She stroked her forehead, then picked up her hair brush. “We’ve ruled that out. But, it was a strange odor—like burning rags. It’s an odor I just can’t forget.”

  “Honey.” Lake gently pushed Jillian onto her padded dressing chair. “I’m not saying that something didn’t happen to you. Apparently, you were very young. But right now, you’re fine. You’ve completed your degree, and you're learning about the firm. What more do you want?”

  Jillian widened her eyes. “None of my siblings suffer with these wild dreams. Why me?”

  “I don’t know.” Lake removed his blazer from a hanger and slipped his arm inside. “You have to admit, your sister is a certifiable nut. Sometimes mental illness is like that.”

  “Celeste is just spoiled rotten. She’s daddy’s favorite.”

  “Yeah.” Looking in the mirror, he ran his fingers through his neatly cropped brunette hair. “She looks like your dad—in drag. There’s no wonder he’s so taken with her.”

  “You kidder.” Lake was standing beside her; she pinched his slacks between her fingers and shook them. “You’re so mean today.” Jillian got up from her dressing table and folded her arms.

  “I’ve been in this family for six years,” he declared. “It takes a wacky sense of humor to survive around here. I have your dad for a boss, a mother-in-law who cares nothing for her liver, and a sister-in-law so spoiled, she can’t wipe her own golden butt.”

  “Darling. My parents are fantastic. And don’t you say another word about them.”

  “I’m just being mischievous, honey. Your family is okay. But, I really like your brother most of all.”

  “That’s because he introduced us. Right?”

  “Yeah. He did you a huge favor. Paid me to go out with his homely big sister.”

  “He did not.”

  “I know. But I love saying that.”

  Jillian grew quiet. “I do feel like the black sheep of the family.”

  “Don’t go there, Jillian. Sometimes, bi-racial children can take the dominate gene. There is nothing wrong with your being darker skinned. You have a smooth color, like a delicious dark caramel bite.”

  “Lake. Mother is Caucasian. Father is African American. I look nothing like my mother.” She picked up a
long strand of raven hair. “There is nothing blonde about this. Celeste’s hair is reddish blonde.”

  “Not today, honey.” He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “I’ve told you. There’s nothing wrong with the texture of your hair, or the color of your marvelous skin. I happen to love them—and I happen to love you.”

  “I’m not saying I want to be Caucasian, Lake. I’m saying I don’t feel as if I belong in this family. Something is wrong.”

  Using a roller, Lake removed fragments of lint from his slacks. “The dreams are affecting our lives aren’t they? Maybe you’re having them because you’re too scared to have children. Sweetie, you’ll be thirty soon. Your clock is ticking. Don’t you want children? You love children.”

  “I’m terrified something awful will happen to my child. The dreams could be an omen. Maybe someone will take him from his crib. You do understand, don’t you?”

  Lake lowered his gaze to meet hers. “If my wife is afraid to give me a son, something is wrong.”

  “Please don’t say that.” Jillian strolled to the walk-in closet. “I want to give you a son, but I’m so very frightened.” She pointed toward the doorway to their bedroom. “Don’t mind me, sweetheart. You’re going to be late for work.”

  Lake raised a brow. “Do I need to check on you today?”

  “I’ll be fine.” She pulled a dark suit from the closet and placed it on the bed. “I’ve got an appointment to see Dr. Vega this morning. She said, I’m having repressed memories. Please don’t get angry. No one else has been able to help me.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  At the country club, Jillian helped her mother prepare for a Cancer Research fundraiser. She straightened the lace tablecloth, then placed the pink pastel petit fours just so. Afterwards, she stepped aside to admire her handiwork.

  Ester, Jillian’s mother, placed a crystal punch bowl on the decorated table. “It’s going to be splendid,” she said, placing the ladle beside it.

  “Mother.” Jillian uncurled a vine of greenery. “You’re the best hostess. I think you missed your calling.”

  Ester gave her daughter a stern expression. “Are you suggesting I open a catering service, again? My dear. Please. I don’t do domestic.”

  “Mother.” Jillian arranged the soft pink napkins as she spoke. “May I ask you a question? I mean, if you have time.”

  “Sure.” Ester tugged at the neckline of her pink chiffon dress. “I’ve got a moment. What’s the matter? Not satisfied with your new stylist? I think she’s done a marvelous job.” She reached out and touched Jillian’s thick hair. “Your hair is full of body.”

  Jillian smiled. “No. it isn’t that.”

  “I know.” Ester placed her finger aside of her cheek. “Maria is not working out for you. Darling, she’s getting old now. You didn’t have to hire her. She was retiring. It isn’t her fault her arthritis acts up every now and then. Give her a few days off and she’ll be good as new.”

  “Mom. No. It isn’t about Maria. She’s fine.”

  “You’ve always been a sentimental one.” A blonde spiral inhibited Ester’s view. She blew the ringlet from her eye, then groomed her elegant updoo. “Honey, it was time for Maria to retire. She’s been around since you were a baby. You’ve developed an unhealthy attachment to her.”

  “Please. Mother. I have a question.” Jillian touched her mother’s shoulder.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. What were you saying, dear?”

  “I was asking if there was ever a fire in the nursery.”

  Ester gazed into her daughter’s large brown eyes. “No. Why would you ask such a thing?”

  “There is smoke—clothes must have been on fire.”

  “Oh,” Ester shunned, “you’re talking about those silly dreams, again.”

  “Mother. They aren’t silly. The dreams are trying to tell me something. If I can just piece it together I’ll…”

  “Well,” she added flippantly. “A few drinks should take care of that.”

  Jillian held her mother’s arm. Desperate to be heard, she looked into her slate blue eyes. “No. No more drinks. No more pills. I want to know the truth. Now, what happened in my nursery?”

  “Jillian please. You’re just like your father. This is hardly the time to discuss such matters.” She jerked her head forward. “Excuse me.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  That night, Jillian experienced the dream she’d had so many nights before. In the vision, the nursery was dark, but she recalled being contented. She played in her crib with hardly a care. Suddenly, someone was there. The scent of burning rags overcame her. A foul smelling hand clasped over her mouth—a hand so large, it covered her eyes and nose as well.

  Jillian reached out, tearing at the burning rags. Unable to free herself she flailed against the stranger. He bound her tightly. She tried to cry out, but her cries were muffled. Sticky duct tape was placed over her tiny mouth. Then, she heard the sound of a bag being unzipped. Her body was then stuffed inside. The zipper closed, then there was darkness. Soon, the bag was jostled about, as if someone was walking.

  How scared she was. Inside the bag, Jillian recalled sweating. The closed area was tight, and stifling. There was no air. How she needed air. Tears clouded her vision and her lungs ached. A constant flow of mucus inhibited every breath. Soon, the bag was wedged into a tight place and practically unzipped. Immediately, a cool breeze rushed inside. Above her head, there were flashes of bright light, and people were talking.

  For days, Jillian recalled being kept in a dark place. The stinky man had changed her diaper once or twice, and had given her a bottle. The milk was almost frozen; she struggled for the nourishment. She recalled being cold on the bare plastic mattress—so, so cold. No one was there. No one heard her cries.

  In the next room, there were loud voices—arguing, and blaring music. “Mommy is there,” she imagined, reaching toward the closed door. “I know mommy is there.”

  Unexpectedly, the door opened, and the room brightened. A woman dressed in dark clothing walked near the bed. She reached inside the crib to get Jillian. “Yes. She’s a healthy one,” she said. “Nice and plump, too.”

  “Who is this woman?” As the woman held her tightly, Jillian could not make out her face. “This is not mommy. No.” She pulled from the woman’s grasp. “I don’t want to go. No. I don’t want to go,” she whined.

  “Jillian,” Lake called, caressing his wife. “Darling. Please wake up.”

  Jillian opened her eyes. Her face was torn in anguish. Tears streamed down her cheek. “Help me, Lake. Please, help me.”

  Lake cradled Jillian against his bare chest. Her gown was soaking wet. He rocked her in the warmth of his arms, while she moaned and cried. “Baby,” he whispered softly. “My baby. It’s all a bad dream.”

  “I’m so frightened,” she said, her voice hardly audible. “So scared. So cold. So cold.”

  “L, let me get a blanket,” Lake stammered, and rose from the bed.

  “No,” she wailed, reaching out to him. “Don’t leave me! Please. Don’t. Don’t.”

  “Yes. I’ll stay.” As he held his wife, Lake stretched out his arm and touched the intercom with his fingertips. “Maria. I’m sorry to bother you, but Jillian needs a blanket.”

  “It is not a problem,” Maria replied through the system. “I will be right there.”

  Soon, there was a knock on the bedroom door. “May I come in?” Maria asked.

  “Maria.” Lake tossed the covers from his body. Wearing only his pajama bottoms, he reached for his robe. “Yes. Please come inside.”

  When Maria opened the door, Jillian was still trembling. “Here is the blanket.” While Lake wrapped the blanket around Jillian’s shoulders, Maria cast her gaze toward the floor.

  Lake tied the sash on his robe. “I’ll get you something to drink, sweetheart.” He walked past Maria, pausing briefly as he regarded her.

  Jillian sat up in bed, her eyes were wild and agitated. “Maria.”

  In respon
se to hearing her name, Maria turned. She raised her aging eyes to look upon Jillian, her employer. “Yes, Mrs. Fairchild.”

  “Come here.” Jillian patted the bed. “Sit down.”

  “I can not sit on your bed, Mrs. Fairchild.”

  “Yes. You will sit. You have known me all of my life. Is that not correct?”

  “Yes ma’am. I have.” Maria refused to look into Jillian’s face.

  “Tell me what happened in that nursery.”

  “Nothing happened in the nursery, ma’am.”

  “Stop lying to me! I’m a grown woman.” The tone of Jillian’s voice proved her desperation. “There are no boogie men under my bed. What I’m feeling is real. Now, tell me what happened there. Was there a fire? Were there firemen?”

  Maria averted her gaze. “No ma’am.”

  “There was a fire. I remembered the smoke filling my room. I remember that it was hard to breath. The fireman put something over my mouth and I couldn’t breathe.”

  “No ma’am. There was no fire in the nursery.” Maria stood up. “I am very tired, Mrs. Fairchild. You understand, don’t you?”

  Jillian became calm. She rested her head against the headboard. “Of course. I’m sorry. How selfish of me.”

  Lake’s footsteps padded softly in the carpeted hallway. He met Maria as she walked past. “How is she?”

  Maria shook her head and said nothing.

  “I’m so sorry,” Jillian whimpered. “I’ve been nothing but trouble.” She reached out for the juice Lake held in his hand. “You’ve married a crazy woman. I never meant to put you through this.”

  “Sweetheart. You’ve been having these dreams for years. Since we’ve been talking about having a child, they seem to have gotten worse. We’ve got to find the reasons for these nightmares.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The next morning, Jillian sat at the table holding a coffee mug. In her mind, she pondered her past. Life had been wonderful. But, somehow, she never felt a part of the family, though, no one treated her differently. After taking a sip of her drink, she rolled the warm cup in her hands.