Jamilla was on her feet and standing in front of the television, willing the commercials to end. Maxwell looked up at her, confused, as he mopped up the mess the spilled wine had made.
She turned suddenly and yelled, “Did you hear what he just said?”
“I was kinda into you at the moment.” Maxwell tried to make a joke. “I wasn’t paying attention. What did he say?”
Jamilla bordered on hysteria. “Oh my God! He said his guest tonight is Clarissa Holmes!”
Maxwell stared at her in disbelief. “Are you sure he said that?”
“Of course I’m sure!”
“Wait a minute. You don’t think this is the Clarissa, do you?”
“It has to be. That’s why I’ve felt like this all evening.”
“What do you mean?”
Jamilla moved to where Maxwell stood and grabbed his hands. “I’ve felt free all evening. I had no idea what was going on, but I knew something had either just happened or was about to.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t, either. I just knew in my heart everything was about to change. Please God, let her be the first act.”
“Baby, please don’t do this to yourself. I can’t stand to see you get all excited only to be disappointed again.”
“You act like you don’t believe me, and besides, I’m not doing anything to myself.” Jamilla pulled away. “I know what I heard.”
“Baby, it’s not a matter of believing you. Do you know the chances of that Clarissa Holmes being your sister?”
“If you don’t believe this with me, then you can just get the hell out of my house. I won’t stand for you or anyone else to step on my dreams.”
“I’m not stepping on your dreams—I’m just trying to stop you from being hurt.”
“You’re a little late for that.” Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. “I’ve been hurting for twenty-one years. Hell, my hurt is full grown.”
“I’m so sorry, baby. Let’s just pull the sheets off the bed and then sit and wait to see who this Clarissa Holmes is. And if she is your sister, then I’ll have you on the next plane to New York.”
“You promise?”
“Promise.”
Chapter 15
“Why is it taking so long for this damn commercial to be over?”
Jamilla went into the closet to retrieve a nightshirt. They had removed the soiled sheets and replaced them with fresh ones. Maxwell had refilled their wineglasses and they were now empty. Clarissa Holmes still hadn’t made her debut on the David Letterman show.
“You say that during each commercial, you know,” Maxwell called after her as he poured more wine in each glass. “It’s always this way—the person you want to see is last.”
Wearing a hot-pink nightshirt that had Nightie Night embroidered across the chest, Jamilla returned to the bench at the foot of the bed next to Maxwell. “Isn’t it the star who’s usually last?”
“Only if that’s who you’re waiting to see.” He laughed and kissed her on the shoulder.
“What if this is my sister?”
Maxwell pulled back slightly and pondered her question for a moment. “How will you know if it is or isn’t?”
“Oh, I’ll know.”
“Okay, I’m about to say something that might get me hurt or worse, but I gotta say it.” Maxwell stood and walked a few steps toward the television. “You thought the other Clarissa was your sister, so do you think that your wanting it to be so will cloud your judgment?”
A very serious look found its way to Jamilla’s face. She did want to hit him and would have if he hadn’t been correct. She’d wanted the Clarissa she met to be her sister so badly that she’d ignored all the signs that told her otherwise. “I’m hoping I learned something from that experience. And I feel differently this time.”
“Different how?”
“I can’t explain it. But the word that comes to mind is ‘free.’ I feel free to love. To love you, to even love myself, and that just happened in the past twenty-four hours.”
David Letterman appeared on the screen again and Maxwell hit the MUTE button so they could hear. He made jokes about the guest who appeared just before the last commercial break. Jamilla’s pulse beat so hard she could feel the blood rushing through her body. Something inside of her told her that she was about to see her sister for the first time.
Maxwell grabbed her hand and gave it a little light squeeze. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I just want them to get on with it.”
David Letterman began talking about the brilliant jazz vocals of the up-and-coming star Clarissa Holmes. He talked about how she’d been a foster child from birth until she graduated from high school. She was known as the singing waitress at a popular national restaurant when a real record producer heard her.
“Say her age,” Jamilla whispered.
Maxwell held her hand a little tighter.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to introduce for the first time on national television the jazz stylings of Clarissa Holmes.” Thunderous applause rose from the audience as the camera switched to the band.
Jamilla’s grip on Maxwell’s hand was so tight his fingers grew numb. She began to blink back tears as she stared into her own face on the television screen.
Maxwell softly said, “I’ll be damned.”
Jamilla began to cry in earnest as Clarissa’s smooth, sexy voice filled the air around her. Her dreams of twenty-one years had finally taken wings. Her planets had aligned. “Oh Happy Days” played in her heart.
Her mind quickly calculated the chances of this ever happening. She absolutely never watched David Letterman, and Maxwell had never spent the night at her place. “Is it really her? Is that my sister I’m looking at on the screen?” she asked Maxwell, never taking her eyes off the television.
“Since you’re sitting here next to me, that woman could only be your twin, or I guess I should say, your triplet.” Maxwell looked at her again and then back at the television. “She even moves her body the way you do.”
“Oh my God, it is her, isn’t it?” Jamilla was trying to make the rampage of emotion cease.
Maxwell laughed. “Let me say this so you really believe me. That woman looks identical to you.”
“I’ve got to get to New York. You promised me you’d help.” Jamilla spoke so fast her words tripped over one another. “Do you think I can get on a flight tonight?”
“Whoa, whoa. Slow down.” Maxwell pulled lightly on her arm. “Of course I’ll help you, but there’s no way we can get on a flight tonight. It’s already after midnight.”
“Then I want to be on the first flight in the morning.” Jamilla ran to her closet to retrieve the overnight bag that she hadn’t unpacked from her trip to see the other Clarissa. “I’m already packed.”
Maxwell laughed as he watched her run around the room frantically. She wasn’t doing anything except burning energy. “Come sit down and listen to your sister sing. She’s really great.”
“I want to be where she is, and that means we need to make preparations. I need a ticket and a hotel room. We have no time to sit and watch television,” she yelled.
“Okay, okay, let’s get your laptop,” Maxwell placated her. “If I make all of the arrangements will you promise you’ll sit down and enjoy this?”
“The only promise I can make you right now is that when my sister is on the stage at Radio City Music Hall tomorrow night, I’ll be sitting right there watching her.”
Chapter 16
Clarissa bowed to booming applause and cheers as the audience appreciated her performance. David stood and walked to meet her center stage. He leaned over and kissed her cheek as he shook her hand. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he pulled back as he pointed to her, “Clarissa Holmes.” The applause rose again as the screen broke away to commercial.
With both hands on her mouth Jamilla sat staring at a car racing toward her on the screen, but she only saw the beautiful woman with the vo
ice of an angel that had plug the hole in her soul. Maxwell slipped his arm over her shoulder and she spontaneously fell into it. The tears rushed forth, but this time they lightened her heart.
Maxwell search for words to fit the moment, but decided silence would serve them both best. He held her a little tighter as she folded deeper into his arms. He whispered a little prayer of gratitude for the miracle he’d been allowed to witness. The three commercials seemed to drag on for hours when in reality only a minute and half had passed.
Jamilla sat up quickly as David Letterman reappeared.
“We’re almost out of time, but I want to ask Clarissa where we can hear more of her wonderfully unique jazz styling?” David said as he smiled admiringly at his grinning guest..
Clarissa beamed as she explained her debut at the Radio City Music Hall at eight o’clock. She turned to look at the camera when she said, “I promise an unforgettable evening.”
She didn’t know how true her words were.
“Will you take us out with another number?” David asked as the audience cheered.
“I’d loved to.” Clarissa stood and moved fluidly toward the band as they began playing “Get Here,” the tune made popular by Oleta Adams.
Jamilla leapt her feet. She couldn’t believe the song Clarissa had chosen. It was her favorite tune. She’d played the track so much she’d had to replace the CD. She turned to say something, anything, to Maxwell but there were no words. She only pointed at the screen.
Maxwell gently took her hand and said, “I know baby. Come sit and enjoy it.”
As Clarissa began to belt out the words the screen divided and the credits began rolling. Jamilla realized what an amazing talent her sister was. They’d each been blessed with artistic gifts. She wondered what gift Leticia possessed. Lord, please let me—us—find Leticia. She stared at the screen willing Clarissa to remain there forever or at least until she left for New York. Her wish didn’t come true as the local car dealer proclaiming the end of the month clearance sale.
Maxwell picked up the remote control and hit the power button. The screen faded to black. Jamilla still stared it in silence. He touched her lightly on her left bare left thigh. “If I hadn’t been here to witness this, I wouldn’t have believed it.”
Still staring straight ahead Jamilla quietly asked, “Am I a little less insane to you now?”
“I’ve never thought you were insane.” Maxwell grabbed her hand. “Just real determined, actually the word obsessed comes to mind.”
“I knew I’d find her—them—us. I don’t know what I’m saying. But we have to get ready.” She turned to him with the enthusiasm of a three-year-old with the prospect of going to visit Mickey Mouse. “You promised me you’d help me.”
“That I did.” Maxwell stood, squeezing her hand said, “Mill, I’m so happy for you.”
Jamilla stood throwing her arms around his neck. “Me too.”
“I tell you what, you go into that closet of yours and pull out your best concert going outfit and some travel clothes and I’ll be back in two seconds.” Maxwell kissed her on the forehead before he turned and walked quickly toward the stairs.
Jamilla watched as he disappeared around the corner as he descended the stairs. She wrapped her arms around herself trying to imagine what it was going to feel like when she was face to face with her other third.
Time must have stood still because Maxwell seemed to return instantly as he took the stairs two at a time with laptop in hand. She hadn’t moved from the spot where she stood when he’d left. She wasn’t quite sure what to do next. He’d left her with instructions but now she couldn’t remember what they were.
“Come sit with me.” Maxwell rescued her.
With a touch of a button the wireless machine came to life. In silence Maxwell navigated to the Orbitz web site. After he’d entered the origin, destination and date to travel he turned and asked, “How long are you going to stay?”
Jamilla thought for a minute before saying, “I don’t know.” Panic attached itself to her heart and refused to let go. She hadn’t had the time to think about what would happen if Clarissa weren’t happy to see her.
Maxwell recognized the fear in her eyes. “Baby, it’s going to be fine. We’ll give you a couple of days and if you need to extend it you can.”
“Okay,” was all she could manage.
“You can be on this seven o’clock flight out of LAX. “Maxwell tapped lightly on the screen. “That’s the only flight that will get you there so you don’t have to rush to make the concert.”
Jamilla peeped over his shoulder. “Nothing out of Ontario?”
“Not that would get you there in time.”
“Then I need to get ready. I’ll have to be at LAX by five.” Jamilla stole a glance at the clock on the nightstand. “That’s only four hours from now and it takes an hour and change to get there.”
“Let me help you pack, so we can get a couple hours sleep.”
“Sleep?” Jamilla stood quickly. “I’ll never be able to sleep!”
Maxwell knew better than to try to convince her that she’d be much better when she met her sister if she got at least a little rest, so he counted with, “Okay, then we get you packed and you come lay in a brotha’s arms for a few minutes before you’re off to New York and your long awaited reunion.”
Jamilla started to protest, but didn’t have a good argument. She moved to the closet and retrieved her suitcase and placed in on the bed. She quickly removed the items from her trip to Atlanta, tossing them into the hamper. She smiled as she thought how quickly the tide had turned. Less than forty-eight hours before she’d stared disappointment and anguish in the face. Now she knew no one would be stopping her from meeting at least one of her sisters.
Maxwell watched her with admiration and awe as she moved about the room gathering things from drawers before she returned to the closet. “How do you think I should dress for the concert?”
“Well, it is New York.” Maxwell stood and moved to the closet door. “It not like here, so I’d go more to the dressy.”
“You’re probably right.” Jamilla pulled a white pants suit from the rack. “What about this?”
“Wow that is nice. Is it skirt or pants?
Jamilla lifted the sheer panel on the garment. “It’s pants but this makes it look like a floor length skirt. It moves quite elegantly. It’s one of my favorite outfits.”
“I’d love to see you in it.” Maxwell teased. “But yes, it will do quite nicely for your first meeting with your sister. Though I don’t think it would really matter if you were a bag lady.”
“I hope you’re right.” Butterflies took up flight in Jamilla’s stomach. “There’s the possibility she won’t want to have anything to do with me, you know.”
Maxwell stared wondering if there was a right response. He decided there wasn’t. “What are you going to travel in?”
“Why didn’t you answer me?” Jamilla wasn’t angry—she was exhausted. “You believe it too, don’t you?”
“I believe that you’ve never given up hope and always kept the faith. Now it has paid of.” Maxwell moved inside the closet until he was standing directly in front of Jamilla. “Don’t be disappointed if it takes some time for the sister thing to kick in. But I can guarantee you when Clarissa gets to know you it will be like you’ve never been apart.”
Jamilla’s response was a warm hug that seemed to penetrate every cell in her body. “I think you’re right, we should try to rest at least for a few minutes before I go to the airport.” She hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Will you drive me?”
Maxwell kissed her lightly on the lips “Nothing would make me happier.”
“You know that means you’ll have to pick me up too.”
“I know.” Maxwell stepped back and smiled. “Finally, you’re letting me be your man.”
Jamilla laughed and it felt so good. She liked the way it felt-letting Maxwell be her man. She quickly gathered two pairs of shoes, dres
s slacks and jeans. As she pulled two shirts from the hangers the last song Clarissa sang replayed in her head. It was as though she’d sent a telepathic message to Jamilla. Get Here! Wow.
Just before Jamilla zipped the suitcase she checked the cosmetic bag to make sure everything she needed for her trip was in place. She was ready. Now all she had to do was wait. She’d waited twenty-one years, what was a few more hours—an eternity.
THE JOURNEY
Gwynne Forster
Chapter 1
Clarissa Holmes Medford awoke earlier that usual that Saturday morning, got up, dragged herself through the house to the front porch, and plopped down in the swing. The swing was the one thing in the house that she loved and enjoyed, and that was because it wasn’t soiled, cracked, or broken. Practically everything else that she and Josh Medford, her husband, owned was worthless. She went to the back porch, pumped a glass of water, brushed her teeth with most of the baking soda that remained in the box, rinsed her mouth, and went back to the swing.
For fifteen years, Josh Medford had been promising her running water, an indoor toilet, and something other than a tin washtub in which to bathe. As she sat there, pushing the swing with her foot, she wondered for the nth time whether the two sisters she never knew fared better in life that she did. She hadn’t learned much in the segregated, ill-equipped, and poorly staffed schools she attended, but she had her high-school diploma, and nobody could take that from her. Hopefully, her two sisters had at least that much.
Clarissa gazed at the breaking sky and the streaks of red creeping through the gray as the sun signaled its awakening. Her second foster mother had loved to watch the sun rise and set and would hold Clarissa in her lap and tell her tales of the sun and its magic. She regarded those as the happiest days of her life, maybe the only truly happy ones. In three of her other five foster homes, she’d had wretched excuses for mothers, and while two of those foster mothers hadn’t mistreated her, neither had they spared her a kiss or a hug. Two months after her eighteenth birthday, she married Josh Medford, believing his promise of love, affection, and a better life.
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