by Sally John
She took it out, remembering that she had not turned up the ringer’s volume. There were texts and missed calls and voice mails, all from Quinn. What on earth? Not bothering to read or listen, she called her friend.
“Jasmyn! Don’t get on that plane! You’re not on it, are you?”
“What’s going on?”
“Are you on it?”
“No. I’m in line at the check-in—oh.” She spoke to a woman beside her who was pushing her bag against Jasmyn’s. The line had moved forward two steps. “Excuse me. Sorry.”
Quinn exhaled loudly. “Well, get out of line, hon. We need to talk.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously!”
“Do you know how long this line—”
“Albright, move this instant!”
Quinn could be bossy. In all the years of their friendship, it had been obvious that she was the leader of their pack of two. Jasmyn never minded. She did not care to be first in anything. And, if not for her friend, she might not have found the courage to try taco pizza, lip gloss, clogs, cross-country, or dinner with Nick Bloome. In all her bossiness, though, Quinn had only screamed at her once before, when the tornado touched down.
“Excuse me,” Jasmyn said to the impatient woman behind her and got out of line. “Okay, Quinn, I’m moving.”
“Sit down.”
“What?”
“Sit down.”
“There’s no place—How bad is this?”
“It’s not bad, it’s not—Well, it’s just something you need to know right now.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Is Danno okay?”
“He is fine. Everyone is fine. Find a place to sit already!”
“I’m finding.” Jasmyn eyed an occupied line of chairs and headed outdoors. She strode to a concrete bench under a palm tree. “Okay, I’m sitting.”
No sound came from the phone.
“Quinn, are you there?”
Jasmyn heard muffled noises, a hiccup, a soft crying sound.
“This afternoon…” Quinn’s voice trembled and then it trailed off.
Jasmyn felt some unknown boogeyman eat up the minutes, precious minutes she needed to stand in line, check her bag, go through security, and get on the plane.
She realized that, once again, she was not going to get on the plane.
Fifty-Two
San Diego Bay across from the airport offered the best and the most immediate respite.
Keagan drove straight to it, parked, and found a bench along the sidewalk. Water lapped at the large rocks that shored up the bayfront. To his left was the downtown skyline. Across the water, a navy helicopter lifted off from North Island. A sailboat drifted by.
He breathed in the salt air and willed his mind to slow, his heart rate to ease up. It took several minutes until he could no longer feel the presence of Jasmyn.
She was nothing like Amy had been. Petite, yes. Fun loving, well, yes, that too. Dimples. Check. Sparkling eyes, yes. Though different colors. But Amy had taken down drug dealers. Jasmyn wouldn’t be able to do that in a million years. Wouldn’t want to.
When Amy died, when she had been killed…
Keagan blinked the bay into view again.
The point was, he did not want to go down any road that led to entanglements which would, in one way or another, come apart, and that would then rip him apart. It was a good thing for Jasmyn to go home.
He admitted now, without reservation, that she intrigued him. That she touched him deep inside where nothing had touched for years. He assumed the place had closed up shop when Amy left.
Evidently not.
No matter. Life moved on, his life nothing like his parents’ lives, nothing like his grandparents’.
He imagined his grandmother, a woman as feisty as Liv, and smiled. She would tell him he missed out on too much because he was stubborn as a mule, and someday he would be sorry for cutting off his nose to spite his face. She liked her clichés.
Sorry, Gram, you got a freak for a grandson. Not your fault.
His phone rang. He considered not answering it.
But he always answered it. Owning a business and being committed to Liv dictated that he always answer it.
He pulled it from his back jeans pocket and saw Jasmyn’s name.
“Jasmyn?”
“Hi. Um…”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s…well, nothing. Not exactly. Except I’m not getting on the plane. Can you come get me?”
“Of course. Where?”
“Where you dropped me off?”
“Give me three minutes.”
“That’s all?”
“Yeah. I’m close by.”
Her intake was audible. “Okay,” she whispered as she exhaled.
Dimples, fun loving, bright blue-violet eyes.
He could almost hear his grandmother laughing.
Jasmyn sat on her large purple roll-along near the curb, her carry-on and handbag on the sidewalk at her feet. She squinted in the late afternoon sun.
Keagan parked and got out of the van.
She twisted her mouth into a semblance of a smile. It was the only movement she made.
Keagan shoved his sunglasses on top of his head and knelt before her, eye level. “What happened?”
“Well.” She bit her lip, her brows knitted.
“Are you sick?”
“No. I’m sorry. It’s just—We should go.”
“Where to?”
Her eyes went wide and she put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, no. Can’t I go back to Liv’s?”
“I’m sure you can. Is that what you want?”
She nodded and nodded, and then she nodded some more. Her eyes filled.
Tears were a no-brainer. He helped her stand and wrapped his arms around her. She fit neatly, as he knew she would.
She cried against him.
A traffic cop gazed at them, a half dozen cars down the curb. Keagan held up a finger. Give us a minute.
Or two or three…
“Jasmyn, what’s wrong?”
She looked up at him, nestled in his arms. “Nothing. Not really.” She wiped a hand across her face. “I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s kind of happy stuff. Crazy and weird but— Oh, Keagan. Quinn just told me I have a sister! A half sister, obviously. And she lives in San Diego! And I can meet her on Friday! Do you believe it? My whole entire life, I had no idea.”
It was Keagan’s turn to be dumbfounded. From what he knew, Jasmyn did not have family, no relatives whatsoever.
“See what I mean?” she said. “Where am I supposed to put that information?”
“Is it true?”
“It seems like it could be.” Her bottom lip quivered and her face crumpled.
He pulled her close again. “I guess you just cry till you get used to it.”
Fifty-Three
Keagan asked Jasmyn if she wanted to adjust to the bombshell of information before going to the Casa.
The Casa. Liv and everyone. What would they think? How could she explain things? Her cottage was clean and tidy, maybe even cleared of the borrowed furniture by now. How could she ask them to start over for her? “Should I go to a motel?”
He lifted her suitcase into the back of the van, shut its door, and turned to her. His chin lowered slightly. He waited, as if the answer were obvious.
She understood. “Mama Liv would have a cow.”
“Or at least another heart attack. How about a cup of tea?”
She expected a coffee shop, but he drove them to an out-of-the-way, hole-in-the-wall restaurant not far from the airport. He suggested she bring a sweater as the air was turning cool. She dug the Seaside Village Gym jacket out of her carry-on.
They sat outdoors, the only customers on a tiny white deck, beneath heaters attached to the awning above. Bay water lapped the other side of a low wall with windbreak windows. Their table was one of only a handful. Boats moored to a nearby
dock clinked softly. The waiter lit the fat candle inside a clear chimney on their table.
Keagan ordered tea and clam chowder and sourdough rolls for both of them. He winked at her. “No worries. They have to-go cartons.”
“Thanks.”
He nodded. “What can I do for you?”
“I don’t know.” She spread her arms. “This.”
He smiled and every angle on his face softened.
Jasmyn closed her eyes briefly, blocking the sight Keagan always kept under wraps.
Why had she called him and not Sam or Piper? True, they were at work, but—but Inez’s words echoed louder than any coherent thought. When we women need rescue, he always there for us. He is our knight. And she had been—she most definitely had been—in need of a rescue.
Her girlfriends, like Quinn on the phone, would have gone on and on, Oh my gosh and What if this…What if that and What are you going to do? They would not have swooped down in under five minutes and hugged her until she quieted inside and whisked her off to just what she needed, a gentle, peaceful place.
But all of that added up to overload. Not only was there the instant-family bombshell to absorb, there was the hug. The Hug. She added the capital H.
“I don’t have family either,” he said. “I was an only child. When I was twelve, my parents and I were in a car accident. They were killed. My mother’s parents raised me after that. They’ve been gone a long time. There was an uncle at some point. I think he died in upstate New York. I can’t imagine learning, out of the blue, that I have a half sibling who lives down the street.”
Add empathy to the Hug.
“I know. It’s like one of those goofy stories you read about online.”
“And don’t believe.”
“Exactly. What’s beyond discombobulated?”
He chuckled. “A dozen water balloons going splat?”
She smiled. “Right in front of me.”
“Want to tell me the whole goofy story?”
She heard Quinn’s voice again and her own constantly interrupting the words that made absolutely no sense. She needed to put it in some sort of order. The first thing Quinn had said was that Jasmyn had a sister. Jasmyn said that was impossible. Quinn said she didn’t think so. Jasmyn had actually argued with her before she heard anything else.
She looked at Keagan, trying to comprehend how she had gotten from bumping bags in the check-in line to drinking tea and watching the sky turn pink above the hilly peninsula behind Keagan’s shoulder.
“They lived there.” She pointed.
“Point Loma?”
“Yes. The grandfather was a Portuguese fisherman. He caught tuna. It was big business for decades. I read about it when Liv and I went to the Maritime Museum.” She leaned forward. “Now that I think about it, I could have actually seen a photograph of my grandfather there.”
“Your grandfather?”
She straightened. She was chasing so many rabbit trails. “This woman’s grandfather. This maybe-sister of mine, her grandfather.”
“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Keagan spoke gently. “Did Quinn meet her?”
“Yes. She walked into the Flying Pig today for a late lunch. Quinn did a double take. Danno did a double take. Mrs. Benson and Mr. Anderson did double takes. Nancy Standard—she was my sixth grade teacher—said, ‘Jasmyn! Holy Moses! When did you get back in town?’ ”
“Hmm.”
“Yeah. Quinn said we could pass for identical twins. No joke. This woman wondered what in the world was going on. Quinn told her about her ‘twin’ and they got to talking. Manda Smith. That’s her name. Manda Smith.” Jasmyn repeated the name slowly, feeling the new sounds in her mouth.
“You must not favor your mom or your grandparents then?”
“No, not at all. They were tall and blond. Mom was beautiful. Gramma called her a loser magnet. It’s not nice to say, but she was.” She scrunched her nose at the memory of the losers her mother dated. It was obvious why Jasmyn had always shied away from men and why she assumed her father was not a man she cared to meet. “I always figured I looked like my dad.” The tears stung again. “Manda said he died last year. It shouldn’t matter. It’s not like I met him or even have a clue if he was my dad.”
Keagan reached across the table and touched her hand briefly. “It matters and you do have clues. Quinn told you more, right?”
She nodded. “He grew up out here, on the water. His grandparents came over from Portugal to fish.” She stopped again. “Keagan, the first time I saw the ocean, I felt like I was home. Like something inside of me got settled.”
He tilted his head, as if he disagreed.
“I know. It’s one of those things no one could believe.”
“It’s not that. I had a friend who went to Scotland once, where her ancestors had come from. She basically said the same thing.”
“Really? Then maybe it’s not my imagination?”
He shrugged.
“Sorry. Another rabbit trail. I can’t focus.”
“It’s okay. What put Manda’s dad in proximity of your mother?”
She took a deep breath. “He was an over-the-road driver. He had his own trucking firm. For a time, he hauled things between here and Chicago. Manda’s a driver too. She and her husband run the company now. They cover the West Coast, but she had always wanted to follow her dad’s old route someday. He kept a detailed log of every town, restaurant, park, and rest stop he was at. So that’s what she was doing in Valley Oaks.”
“It’s in writing that he was in Valley Oaks?”
She shook her head. “He wrote the name of the truck stop on I-80, twenty miles from Valley Oaks. My mom worked there thirty-six years ago. Manda took the exit, but the place is gone. She got back on the interstate, saw the billboard advertising the Flying Pig, and took that exit. I guess she was hungry.”
“And she met Quinn and Danno.”
“Right.”
“Hmm.”
They sat in silence a few moments. Jasmyn picked apart a roll. Keagan dipped his spoon into his bowl of chowder.
“The guy stopped at the place your mother worked. We’re not quite into convincing evidence yet.”
“You never met my mother.”
He eyed her over his spoon.
She was glad not to see judgment. “Mom was eighteen and already had a reputation. It wasn’t a nice one. She pretty much kept it going until she died. People weren’t always accepting of us.”
He lowered his spoon. “I’m sorry.”
“The only thing she ever told me about him was that he was handsome and just passing through town. I should get over it.”
He winced.
“So I did. Old news. Anyway, Quinn and I agree that this guy stopping by where she worked could easily mean she got pregnant with me.”
“Did Quinn tell Manda all of this?”
“No. Goodness, no. She just showed Manda my picture and said she was sure I’d like to meet her. Quinn told her I was in Seaside Village and there was a coffee shop. Manda knew it and agreed to see me there on Friday. She didn’t want to exchange any contact information. At first she was all friendly and jabbered with Quinn about why she was there and where she was from. But the more they talked, she became a little standoffish. Although she gushed over Danno’s sauce.” Jasmyn couldn’t help but smile.
“Maybe you could make it for us sometime.”
“No way. He’s never given the correct recipe to anyone.”
“From what you’ve said, I think you’re special to him. I bet when he retires, he’ll give it to you. What did he think about all this?”
“Quinn said he ducked out while they were still talking and didn’t come back until after Manda had left.” She picked at her roll, shredding it to crumbs on a plate. “She could back out. Not show up at Jitters.”
“Or you could.”
Jasmyn looked at him. “No, I couldn’t. She’s my sister.”
“She’s a set of coincidences.”
Jasmyn shook her head. “Danno went looking for her semi. They don’t exactly fit in our lot. He found it, on a side road, on the edge of town. The road I used to take to the farm.” She wondered now if God had directed where the woman had parked. It was a silly thing. Another coincidence, that thing Liv said rarely happened.
Keagan took her hand, turned it over, and brushed crumbs from the palm. “And Danno saw the name of the trucking firm.”
“Yes. Anibal Cargo, El Cajon, California. A-N-I-B-A-L. He looked it up online. Nice website, he said. It gave the history, how Carlos Anibal got started by delivering his father’s tuna.”
“Then Manda’s story is true.”
“Yeah. The thing is, my mom said she never even knew the guy’s name or where he was from. She said she just picked ‘Annabelle’ out of a name book. She thought it was pretty.”
“Annabelle?”
“My middle name. Coincidence?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Fifty-Four
After Keagan’s heads-up phone call to say he was bringing Jasmyn home, Liv whooped in the privacy of her cottage. The explanation was a tad worrisome—a sister in San Diego?—but the bottom line was that she had been given more time to spend with Jasmyn.
After they arrived, Liv reined in her emotions. To some extent.
Her bear hug was probably a bit overdone. She effused too much about how her casa was still Jasmyn’s casa, that the sofa, table, and bed were still in place, that she had stocked the refrigerator with just a few items to tide Jasmyn through the night and morning, that they would figure out tomorrow, tomorrow.
At least she had stopped short of tucking the girl into bed. Mama Liv doling out that much smothery effort might send the wrong message. Like she was glad Jasmyn’s world had once again been turned upside down.
Jasmyn saw her to the door, clearly exhausted, clearly a jumble of emotions. “How do we pray?”
“Thanks and help.” Liv kissed her cheek. “Lots of unknowns, Jasmyn, dear, but they will become known in due time. Get some sleep.”
Outside, Liv kept her feet on the flagstones instead of dancing a jig. Jasmyn might be watching from the window. She rounded the corner of her cottage and saw Keagan in the shadows, leaning against the office door, his arms crossed.