Destiny's Daughters

by Gwynne Forster

  “No, actually, Mr. Brewington, I can’t understand how you could toy with my emotions this way. I don’t understand why you didn’t do the job I’m paying you quite handsomely to do by asking this woman some very basic questions that would have proven she isn’t my sister!”

  “But, Ms. Holmes, I assure you . . .”

  Jamilla interrupted him. “You assure me? You assure me that when I looked in this woman’s eyes and she thought I was a lunatic that I didn’t feel small enough to have to pole vault to get up on a curb? Or perhaps you assure me that my check for ten thousand dollars was money poorly spent?”

  “I promise you that I’ll continue on the case, and all the time that went into finding the wrong Clarissa Holmes will be credited to your account. Though if you read your contract, it clearly states that I make no promises. Everything I did and all the information I gave you was with the best intentions.”

  “You know what road is paved with good intentions, don’t you?” Jamilla replied angrily.

  “I would like very much to continue on the case, but that is clearly up to you.”

  “I’d like a refund in full.”

  Fred Brewington’s silence resonated through the ether. “I’m sorry, but I don’t give refunds. I’ve already agreed to continue on the case, putting forth as much effort as I did before, but there is no guarantee that your sisters are even alive. They could have changed their names. Moved out of the country, any number of scenarios.”

  Jamilla refused to listen to such gibberish. “Then I’ll see you in court!” Her finger found the OFF button.

  Rage suffocated her. She hadn’t been able to vent her anger and disappointment until now. She collapsed onto the pillow, with which moments before she’d made cute conversation.

  Time seemed to stand still. “Clarissa and Leticia—why can’t I find you? Why can’t I just open the phone book and you be there?”

  Suddenly, Jamilla sat up. The phone book? Why hadn’t she thought of that before? It was so simple that it just might work. She wiped her face with her fingertips and moved quickly to her office. She sat on the edge of the seat as she moved her work to the side. Her fingertips lightly glided across the keys before she touched the mouse to open the Web browser. She quickly navigated to the people search Web site. Her fingers trembled as she typed in Clarissa Holmes. The search resulted in ninety-four hits. None was thirty-three, but six were in Georgia with no age listed. Her heart began to pound as she searched for her credit card to pay for the service. She secretly prayed there’d be more than just the Clarissa Holmes who wasn’t her sister.

  How simple it had been to locate these women, even if it led nowhere. All the money she’d paid Brewington, and this was probably exactly what he’d done. She quickly entered the credit card information and there before her was the contact information for the six women. Two of the listings were for the Clarissa she’d met. But the other four weren’t. There before her were addresses and phone numbers. Though she knew she should have been elated, fear gripped her.

  Was she afraid of another failure? Or was it the fear of success? Meeting the wrong Clarissa brought to her mind the reality that she may never find her sisters or that she might find one or both of them, only to be rejected. She didn’t know which was worse.

  She entered Leticia’s name and it yielded seventeen matches. Tears began to stream down her cheeks and the names became distorted in front of her. Finding her sisters couldn’t possibly be this easy. If this information is available to her, then surely Fred Brewington had checked into each of these people. But had he? Could she be wasting her time? What else did she have to do? Time had been her best friend and worst enemy simultaneously. She’d had twenty-one years to think of and yearn for her sisters. Making up characteristics in her mind and believing their reunion to be a perfect blending of three bodies with one soul. Then on the other hand thirty-three years had past since they were together. With every moment of every day, they could be moving further and further apart until it would be impossible for them to find one another.

  Time was her most precious resource, so she’d better get to using it wisely.

  Chapter 13

  The grandfather clock bonged softly six times, announcing the evening hour. Jamilla had engrossed herself in the people’s search Web sites for hours, and she’d lost track of how much money she’d spent. Maxwell was due to arrive in an hour and he was never late. She’d said seven with the intention of being ready by six-thirty. She reluctantly got up from the desk, stretching. She’d found three women named Clarissa Holmes on four different Web sites who could quite possibly be her sister.

  All of the Leticias she’d found weren’t the right age. She wanted to take the time now to explore further, but she knew she needed to be at least almost ready when Maxwell arrived. As Jamilla ran up the stairs, she hummed the song made famous by Little Orphan Annie, “Tomorrow.” Did she consider herself an orphan?

  Jamilla stepped into her bedroom and moved to the closet, where she shed the clothes that had brought her across country. She needed to wash the miles off her. She stripped and stepped in the shower. She turned the water as hot as she could stand it and let it pelt her body. She wished she could wash away her woes as easily as the sweat.

  Though she wanted to stay under the hot water for hours, she washed and rinsed swiftly. She toweled dry and applied just enough makeup to give her face a little glow. She dressed in yellow slacks and a bright green top. She looked like an ad for a citrus drink.

  Just as she suspected, Maxwell rang the bell fifteen minutes early. She darted down the stairs and opened the door without looking through the peephole, something he always chastised her about. Her happiness at the sight of him surprised her. He looked handsome, and his smile invited her to his lips. She kissed him lightly and then said, “It’s really good to see you.”

  Maxwell stepped closer to her and hugged her. “You kinda pleasant on a brotha’s eyes yourself.”

  “Come on in.” Jamilla stepped to the side and he entered as his scent tickled her nose. “I’m just about ready to go.”

  “Good—I’m starving.” Maxwell sat deep into the sofa and crossed his legs. “I thought maybe you could stay over tonight.”

  Jamilla’s knee-jerk reaction was to say hell, no. I don’t even want to go now. I’ve found people who could be my sister. But instead she said, “I’d love to but I really need to be in my own space tomorrow morning so I can get an early start on writing.”

  Maxwell raised his left eyebrow and looked at her suspiciously. He knew she never hit a meaningful keystroke before six P.M. He didn’t know if she was blowing him off or she had something to do dealing with her sisters. Either way, he was disappointed. He’d thought after their short separation she’d want to make up with him. “You’re not going to get back out here until really late, then I’ll have to drive all the way back home.”

  Jamilla had been inserting her earrings as she stared in the mirror above the fireplace when she turned so suddenly the gold hoop flew from her ear across the room. “I asked you pointedly if you wanted to drive all the way out here, because I could very easily have met you.” Her voice rose with each word. “But how did you put it? I wouldn’t have asked if I minded.”

  “But as I drove here, I thought about it and decided that our time could be better spent if we weren’t in the car for four hours.”

  “I’m not staying at your place tonight,” Jamilla said flatly as she went in search of the earring. “Let’s just find someplace local.”

  “Whatever.” Maxwell didn’t try to hide his frustration or disappointment.

  “You know, we don’t have to go!” Jamilla snapped. “You asked me, remember?”

  “And if my memory serves me correctly, you said you were glad I did. You sure could act like it!”

  A shouting match was brewing, and this wasn’t what Maxwell wanted. His impotence dealing with Jamilla’s problems was getting next to him. He knew he couldn’t continue this much
longer no matter how much he loved her. He stared at her, seeking the right words, when she spoke.

  “Look, I’m sorry.” Jamilla moved the few steps to where he sat and knelt at his feet, taking his hands. “The truth is I’ve started more research. I found a Web site that gave me three potential people who can be Clarissa. I want to be here tomorrow morning so I can start it afresh.”

  Maxwell looked into her sad eyes and his heart melted. “Then how about I stay here?”

  Jamilla didn’t answer.

  “What, you don’t want to be with me at all?”

  “No, no. It’s not.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Jamilla sat on the floor and turned her back so she was leaning against the arm of the sofa. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m not buying that.”

  “I do want to be with you, but I just need space right now.”

  “You want your cake sitting pretty in the crystal-covered cake plate all the while you are chomping down on it with a big, cold glass of milk.” Maxwell failed at humor.

  “Yeah, I guess I do.” Jamilla turned to look at him. “Doesn’t work like that?”

  Maxwell threw his head back with a belly roll of a laugh before saying, “Not hardly.”

  “I want you to stay. But let’s not go all the way to Long Beach.” Jamilla smiled mischievously. “The drive back would be too long.”

  Maxwell sat up with a huge grin. “You know, we can order in.”

  Jamilla hit his knee playfully. “No, we can’t! I want beer.”

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “BJ’s finally opened. Let’s go there.”

  “Then get your purse, woman! What’re you waitin’ on? There’s a lager with my name on it.” Maxwell spanked her bottom as she lifted herself off the floor with ease.

  Jamilla felt light for the first time in days. She now looked forward to an evening with Maxwell followed by a long overdue night.

  As Jamilla grabbed her keys, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. For a split second she saw three people. All with her face.

  Chapter 14

  After three dark beers and a Bloody Mary, Jamilla had finally relaxed. She wasn’t thinking of anything or anyone except the here and now. The conversation had been light, and Maxwell made her laugh out loud several times. On the ride home she felt warm and tingly. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the prospects of the remainder of the evening that lay before her.

  Maxwell’s soft words broke her concentration. “It was so great to hear you laugh like you did tonight.”

  Jamilla smiled. “You have no idea how good it felt.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What for?”

  Jamilla turned and spoke deliberately. “You’re an amazing man—one I’m not really sure I deserve.”

  Maxwell took his eyes off the road for a moment and met her gaze. “Go on.”

  “I’ve been so absorbed in myself and this thing with my sisters that I’ve shut you out. The best I’ve offered you was a knife and fork when I came to a fully dressed table.” She waited a beat. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Baby, there’s nothing to be sorry for. I admit I’d rather have more of you, but I understand and I can wait. Not forever, but I can wait for a while.”

  “Maxwell,” she hesitated.

  “Yes?”

  “I love you.”

  He turned slightly. “I know.”

  Jamilla wanted to be at home now. The short ride from the restaurant took an eternity. As they turned into the condominium development, she said, “Park in the garage.”

  Maxwell jerked his head, turning to look at her. She’d never once offered him that option. He wanted to be nonchalant about it and struggled for the right thing to say. “Do you have the opener with you?”

  “I can use the keypad.”

  Maxwell smiled. Had things turned the corner for him? He didn’t want to do anything to ruin the moment, but he felt like he was skating on thin ice on a sunny day. “Okay, then the garage it is.”

  They made the circle and he realized he’d never approached her place from the back before. He wasn’t quite sure where to go. “Is it the third one from the end?”

  “Yes. Just stop right over there and I’ll hop out and open the door.”

  Maxwell obeyed. Jamilla pressed a few numbers on the lighted keypad and the door began to rise. Maxwell was impressed with the immaculate space before him with the painted floor and shelves lining both sides. Her Honda was parked to the right side, so he pulled in on the left. She met him at the driver’s door. As he opened the door, she stepped back so he could exit. As he stood she took his face into her hands and kissed him, long and deep.

  The motion surprised both of them. Maxwell leaned back on the car to steady himself. “Wow.”

  Embarrassed by her forwardness, Jamilla blushed. “I’m sorry, I guess it’s the alcohol.”

  “Girl, do you see me complaining?” Maxwell leaned down to kiss her again.

  This time she was a little more reserved. “I guess we should close the garage door before the neighbors start talking.”

  Maxwell didn’t take his eyes off her while she moved near the door that led into the house. “That might not be a bad idea.” He couldn’t stop smiling. He believed tonight Jamilla would give herself completely to him. Though this wasn’t the first time he’d have her body, he was reasonably sure it would be the first time he had her mind, maybe even her soul would come along for the ride. He’d waited for a very long time. This was their moment. He was going to relish every second of it.

  Jamilla turned and slipped the key into the lock and opened the door. She stepped inside and disabled the alarm. “Are you coming?”

  Maxwell stood transfixed. Jamilla’s liquid movements mesmerized him. He needed to get a hold of himself. He cleared his throat as he tried to speak. “Ah, yeah.”

  Maxwell followed her into the house. Jamilla removed her shoes and stepped to the cabinet that held the wineglasses. “Champagne or wine?”

  “Are we celebrating?”

  Jamilla threw her head back and laughed. “Then I guess it’s wine.”

  “I was just asking. Champagne would be wonderful.” Maxwell moved close to her, kissing her neck.

  She responded with a soft moan. “Would you get the wine and I’ll get us a snack.”

  “You’re all the snack I need,” he teased.

  Jamilla moved toward him and kissed him with more passion than she’d ever expressed. Something deep inside her seemed to be set free. She couldn’t explain why or what was happening, but she decided to flow with it. Their kisses became more passionate with each passing second. The wine forgotten, they moved into the living room and fell onto the couch, never breaking their embrace.

  Each kiss was more intense than the last, until the two of them were totally lost in their passion. Jamilla felt famished for love. Maxwell’s touch fanned the flames of her desire until she was fully engulfed. He lifted her from the couch and carried her up the stairs, never taking his lips from hers, as though she weighed nothing.

  As they fell onto the bed, she begged him to take her. Her request didn’t go unanswered. For the next hour and thirty-three minutes, Jamilla Holmes Dixon was taken to a new place—a place where no feelings of loneliness and abandonment dared try to enter. She allowed him to love her, and it felt wonderful.

  The two of them lay quietly as he planted small, light kisses on her shoulder. She curled up closer to him as she purred lightly. “Do you still want that wine?” he asked her softly.

  “I’d love some.” Jamilla reluctantly slid over to her own pillow to allow Maxwell freedom to retrieve the wine. “There’s some grapes and cheese in a plastic container on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator.”

  Maxwell leaned over to kiss her. “I’ll be right back. Keep my spot warm for me.”

  Jamilla only smiled as she watched his tight butt disappear down th
e stairs. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this free. What had happened? Or was something about to happen? She began to chastise herself for allowing Maxwell to distract her. She needed to be spending time on the Web site, searching for Clarissa Holmes. As she drew her fingers to her lips to touch where he had kissed her last, she realized that the information and the people it related to would be there in the morning.

  She slipped into the bathroom to freshen up while Maxwell prepared a little midnight snack. She decided to shower. She hadn’t meant to stay as long as she did, but when she finally turned off the water, fifteen minutes had passed. She quickly toweled her body and smoothed a fresh-scent aromatherapy lotion all over her body. She felt cool and refreshed.

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” she yelled out to Maxwell.

  “Take your time, baby. I’m just watching the end of the news.” Maxwell sounded content. “Would you like me to bring your wine in to you?”

  “No, I’ll really be out in a second.” Jamilla checked her reflection as she admired her naked, curvy body and smiled.

  As she stepped back into the bedroom, wearing only a smile, Maxwell whistled. “Dayum, girl! You going to get a brotha goin’ again.”

  Jamilla slipped between the sheets, which felt cool to her skin. “And the problem with that would be?” She laughed as she kissed him slightly on the lips and reached across him to the wineglass.

  “Do you want some strawberries?” He held the huge red fruit in the air above her head.

  “Drop it in . . .” Her attention was distracted as David Letterman ended his usual hilariously funny monologue by announcing his lineup of guests.

  “. . . and tonight it’s my pleasure to introduce to you Clarissa Holmes, a premiere jazz vocalist who will be appearing at Radio City tomorrow night.” Letterman’s words paralyzed Jamilla.

  The wineglass fell from her hands and the clear, cold liquid bled all over the sheets and comforter. Maxwell leapt from the bed and ran to the bathroom to grab a towel. “What’s wrong with you? Did you see another vision?”