by Sally John
Sam told her that it shouldn’t. Liv had concerns about all the energy she had wrapped up in the event.
Oh, well.
And then, suddenly, there she was. Jasmyn spotted her across the street, on the corner.
Manda Smith. There was no mistaking her.
Jasmyn’s heart thumped in triple time, all but closing up her throat.
Except for the facts that the woman was not sitting at a table or wearing a purple V-neck sweater, Jasmyn was looking in a mirror.
The woman stepped off the curb and headed toward the coffee shop. She wore fitted jeans and a collared white shirt under a dark blue vest. Her hair was pulled back and up, ends fanning out on top of her head. Her stride was confident. Dangly silver earrings swung.
Understanding flashed through Jasmyn, a zigzag of light in her mind, a boom of thunder that rattled her from head to toe.
Her life would never, ever be the same again.
Waiting for her destiny to enter the shop and look around for her seemed a stupid plan. Jasmyn bolted from her seat and out the door.
Fifty-Eight
Keagan watched from inside a friend’s barbershop, across the street and north of the coffee shop.
He needed a haircut anyway.
Even from half a block’s distance he could tell that Jasmyn’s friend Quinn had not exaggerated about the resemblance. If no one noticed that Manda Smith was about five foot four and not five two, she could use Jasmyn’s ID and board a plane, no questions asked.
The women met on the sidewalk. They seemed to hesitate before speaking, before shaking hands. Then they went into the coffee shop, Manda Smith leading the way. He guessed she was the take-charge type. Assertive. A woman who drove big rigs up and down the coast would require a good dose of moxie.
He ran his hand down his face. Prejudging Manda Smith was uncalled for. He had done further research that indicated she was an upstanding citizen.
He knew the names of her high school and college, that her degree was in business. He knew her political persuasion, the church she married in, her husband’s history, their kids’ names and birth dates. He knew their address.
He knew the maiden name of Carlos Anibal’s widow and that she was sixty-five, lived in a guest house on the Smiths’ property, still helped with the business, and belonged to a Portuguese community club. He knew when the parents of Carlos Anibal had died.
He knew Anibal Cargo was a reputable firm. No one involved with it had a criminal record.
So what was his problem?
Jasmyn Albright.
He could have done without the hug at the airport, without the hours spent giving her a safe space to unravel. Being with her, up close, watching her go from discombobulated to calm to resolved had ratcheted up his attraction to her.
He hadn’t even wanted to tell her goodbye, but it was obvious he was the one to escort her to the airport. One thing led to another. He responded. Despite what sweet, impassioned Inez insisted, Keagan was not a knight in shining armor, waiting in the wings to rescue damsels in distress.
Later, he and Liv researched Manda Smith. After that, he researched some more. Not to rescue Jasmyn, but simply because he liked to solve puzzles.
He rubbed his forehead. Yeah, right.
But it was true. As a kid, he was obsessed with puzzles of all kinds: words, numbers, jigsaw, mechanical, why the neighbor grew strange plants in his basement. Even during his crazy teen years, he did not lose interest. His grandfather finally outfitted a corner in the garage where he could be up at all hours and not disturb his grandmother, a light sleeper.
As an adult, he submitted to officers who ensured he excelled at the whole business of puzzle solving: assess a situation and resolve it. As a DEA agent, his life and others’ depended on that ability.
It wasn’t something that left one’s system like the flu.
He smirked to himself now. The phrase was Amy’s, her response to his anger about his inability to slow his brain that ran too often in overdrive.
And what would she tell him in this situation? How would the woman he had loved so deeply—and who surprisingly had loved him so deeply in return—how would she explain his infatuation with Jasmyn?
With a start he realized that was an easy one.
Jasmyn is one of the good ones, caring and giving no matter how crazy her world gets. And you know what, Sean? That’s perfectly all right. Six years is long enough to grieve. She would huff and roll her eyes. Get a life already.
The past faded from his mind. Through the coffee shop window he saw the indistinct figures of Jasmyn and the twin stranger.
Jasmyn Annabelle Albright.
He’d been unprepared for her. He’d been blindsided. Why her? Why now? What if this newfound family did nothing but propel her back to the Midwest? What if she bought that restaurant and got on with life?
What if… He locked his jaw, willing the questions to stop.
Heart puzzles were the worst.
Fifty-Nine
“Unbelievable.” Manda Smith shook her head.
“Yeah.” Jasmyn shook her head.
They had not said much beyond those two words since meeting out on the sidewalk. The woman—her sister, there was no doubt about it—had chuckled. Well, we don’t need name tags. Jasmyn had smiled. They shook hands.
Which had felt odd to Jasmyn. Wouldn’t sisters— She swallowed the lump in her throat. She was making too much of things.
Now, seated at the table, ignoring their coffee, they stared at each other.
“Wow.” Manda chuckled again, a quick humming sound from her throat, her mouth closed. Her voice was lower than Jasmyn’s, almost raspy. “I seem to have lost my vocabulary.”
“Yeah.” Jasmyn smiled. “Me too.”
“You have dimples.”
“My mom’s. You have brown eyes.”
Her smile was smaller too, a barely noticeable stretch of lips. “My dad’s. Unfortunately, I look like him. I mean, he wasn’t pretty. At least I don’t have his shoulders. Is your mom still around?”
The lump rolled up again in Jasmyn’s throat. Manda didn’t have a clue.
Quinn had kept mum with Manda about the possibility that her father might have met Jasmyn’s mother at the restaurant where she worked. Still, given the timing of his presence in Illinois, on the interstate that ran past Jasmyn’s hometown, hadn’t Manda begun to put two and two together?
Jasmyn said, “She died three years ago. I never knew my dad. Not even his name.”
“That’s a tough one.”
“It was okay. Kids teased, though. You know how that goes. I survived. So, you grew up in San Diego?” Jasmyn backpedaled, away from the topic of parents. “It’s totally amazing here.”
It was Manda’s age. If she had appeared years younger than Jasmyn, then she might have introduced the subject. But she guessed they were around the same age, too close. Jasmyn lost her nerve. She simply could not say point-blank that Manda’s father must have cheated on Manda’s mother thirty-six years ago.
“I’ve seen a lot of the States, especially west of the Mississippi, but San Diego is still my favorite place. Actually, when I was a teenager, I hung out at Seaside Village beach. My husband and I used to come here before kids. That’s why I knew Jitters. Is the ice-cream shop still around?”
“Nonna’s Ice Cream Parlor. It’s past the library.”
“That’s it. Quinn said you’re on vacation. How did you land in Seaside Village? It’s kind of out of the way.”
Jasmyn dove into the details of how she had arrived. The verbal fire hydrant switched on. She covered her work, her mother’s death, the tornado, car theft, and Casa de Vida. Her throat kept closing up. Her voice warbled, but she pressed on, wanting to avoid what was uppermost in her mind and yet wanting to know more.
Manda listened politely. Her eyes were spaced further apart than Jasmyn’s. Her nose was slightly wider. Her teeth were the straight version produced only by braces. She gestured a lot when
she talked, tapped her nails on the table and mug when not talking. Her nails were salon manicured, painted the color Piper had put on Inez’s nails. What was it? Burnt sienna. The in shade for fall.
Overall, Manda seemed more…finished than Jasmyn. It showed in her appearance, but more in airy things like confidence and contentment. She would have handled a tornado better. She wouldn’t have chosen a studio apartment. She wouldn’t have run away.
Jasmyn asked Manda about her work and family. Manda talked about tuna fishing. About driving a semi. That she was an only child. About how her husband was better with business details and such a great Mr. Mom with their two kids, a boy, six, and a girl, four. They had hired another driver so Mr. Mom could work in the office and be with the kids when Manda was out of town.
Jasmyn could not get enough. She was dying of thirst, and Manda offered only a trickle of water.
Manda checked her watch. “I have to deliver a load of office furniture in Las Vegas by six. I should go.” She moved her cup aside and folded her hands on top of the table. “Look, Jasmyn. You seem like a nice person. You’re probably thinking my dad could be your dad because we look alike and he stopped in a restaurant twenty miles from your hometown X number of years ago, but I’m not going down that road. Sorry. Too many potholes.”
Jasmyn opened her mouth and closed it. She nodded. “I just…” Her voice croaked. Nothing else came out.
“I mean, maybe it’s possible. But he’s dead and this would kill my mother. How old are you?”
She cleared her throat. “Thirty-five. Thirty-six in January.”
“I’ll be thirty-six next week. Which would mean— Well, you do the math. If he was cheating on Mom while she was pregnant—” She inhaled sharply. Her jaw set as if she gritted her teeth.
Jasmyn realized that Manda had indeed begun to put two and two together. And she had come up with four.
It was Jasmyn’s last chance.
She swallowed the lump. “I’m sorry, Manda, but what he did is not my fault. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just wish I could fill in the blanks of my heritage.”
“And what would you do with that information?”
“Nothing except feel like I wasn’t such a freak. I don’t look like my mom except for the dimples and eye color. She was tall and blond. She worked in that truck stop you tried to find. My middle name is Annabelle.”
Manda stared, apparently speechless.
“My boss saw the name on your truck.”
She shut her eyes now.
“My mother claimed she did not know his name, but I think that was a lie. It was easier to pretend he was not a real person. She could simply move on. We all could.”
“Okay.” Her tone revealed nothing.
“What was his name?”
She gawked at her now. “You don’t know his name?”
“No.”
“Any search engine would have taken you there with ‘Anibal Cargo.’ ” She pronounced it ah-na-ble. “You didn’t look online?”
“No. I didn’t want to fill my head with things that might not be true.”
Manda’s jaw slackened. She exhaled. “Carlos Anibal.”
Carlos Anibal. Carlos Anibal. The sound was more exotic than Jasmyn had imagined. She always figured he would be a Joe or Bob or Dan, a Jones or Miller or Wilson. “And did you know his parents?”
“Yeah. They were around until after I got married. Joaquin and Lorena.”
Joaquin and Lorena. Her grandparents!
“Joaquin’s parents emigrated from Portugal, around 1918 I think. I don’t remember exactly. Carlos and Roselo.”
Great-grandparents. Jasmyn smiled to herself, deep inside where it wouldn’t scare Manda off. “What was your dad like?”
Manda looked out the window, quiet for a moment. “He was confident. A hard worker. He started driving a truck when he was seventeen. He grew the company into a huge success, and not because he was a nice guy. He was fair with clients but a royal pain as a boss. He hated fishing.” She turned toward Jasmyn. “He was unfaithful to my mother when I was thirteen. They almost divorced. I doubt that was the only time. I mean, he did long hauls for twenty-five years. Pretty easy to hook up with someone else when you’re basically gone four out of every six weeks.”
“When did he stop driving?”
“After that incident. She gave him an ultimatum. He hired more drivers and worked in the office.”
“He drove to Chicago all those years?”
“No. He built up a territory on the coast and gave up that run.”
“When?”
“I don’t know exactly. It was before I was born.”
“So…” Jasmyn hadn’t felt the bubble of hope until now, as it popped. “Then he might not have known that Jerri Albright was pregnant.”
“Or he did and he bailed.” She sighed. “I loved my father. We were friends. He taught me everything about the business. I’m a good driver because he was a good driver. But given his history, I don’t know what he would have done if he had known.”
“When you drove to Chicago, you were following a diary of his?”
“It’s more of a list. He liked to keep track of places he visited. A quirk of his.”
“Are there dates in it? Like exactly when before you were born he was last in Chicago?”
“That would be in the manifest.” She paused, lost in thought. “I think we still have them from back then, buried somewhere in the garage. I can’t promise when I’ll get to them— I’m sorry, but I have to say this. My mom is taking Dad’s death badly. I hope you won’t contact her?”
Jasmyn sat back, surprised. “I wouldn’t do that.”
They stared at each other.
“No, I believe you wouldn’t. Thank you.” Manda scooted her chair from the table. “I really have to go. Maybe someday we can…” She shrugged.
Jasmyn stood with her and smiled. “Maybe.”
Manda returned her smile and they shook hands.
“Did you ever want a brother or a sister?” Jasmyn asked.
“Nope. Guess I was having too good a time being the one and only. Take care.”
“You too.”
As Manda hurried to the door, Jasmyn sank back into her chair. Her legs weren’t quite ready to carry her to the door, let alone down the street.
Well, she had wanted a brother or a sister. Not that it mattered now. She had one and did not even know her phone number or email address. They hadn’t been offered, and after Manda told her not to contact her mother, Jasmyn wasn’t asking. It was clear they were going nowhere.
That last smile of Manda’s? The tip of her nose had tilted, her brows rose up just a bit. It was the same smile Jasmyn gave customers who changed their order umpteen times and then asked for the moon.
Sure. No problem. Maybe someday we can… Do what? Exchange contact information? Send Christmas cards—
“Hey.” Manda stood beside her. “I just wanted to tell you something about my dad. For all his macho posturing, he liked gardening. He spent a lot of time taking care of our yard.” She paused, as if deciding whether to go on or not, and then she took a breath. “The whole back fence was lined with jasmine.” With a quick nod, she scurried off again.
Jasmyn’s chest felt as if a whole rack of barbecued ribs had gone down the wrong pipe.
Sixty
After Manda left the coffee shop a second time, Jasmyn sat for several minutes, waiting for the pain in her chest to clear.
Carlos Anibal apparently liked the jasmine plant.
Jasmyn Annabelle’s mother had chosen her name well. Purposefully.
Which meant…
Honestly? It probably meant very little except Jerri knew a lot more about Jasmyn’s father than she had admitted.
A loud banging on the window caught her attention.
On the other side, Chad grinned at her. He made senseless sweeping gestures. She shrugged. He put his palm against the pane, mouthed Wait, and walked toward the door.
; Like she was going somewhere? Breathing was still an issue.
Chad plunked a large shopping bag on the table and disappeared behind it as he sat down. “How’d it go?”
“How’d what go?”
He peeked around the corner of the bag. “Oh, dear. That bad?”
Jasmyn’s forehead hurt, as if the skin were all knitted into furrows. “I’ll be fine.”
“PDA alert!” he called out. “PDA!”
“What?”
Before the word was out of her mouth, he was at her side and pulling her up into his arms. “Public Demonstration of Affection.”
The hug felt awkward. Her head was buried in his shoulder, but she knew people must be watching after his announcement. He held on to her tightly, until it began to feel like exactly what she needed.
“But,” he murmured, “I don’t do public display of tears.”
“Me neither.” She disengaged herself and wiped her eyes with her sweater sleeves. “I did once, in front of my smashed-up house. Got my picture in the newspaper in five counties. It was awesome.”
“Oh, Jazzie.” He pointed to the bag. “This will cheer you up.”
She looked inside and saw rubbery material, black with a wide streak of pink. “A wetsuit?” She lifted the thick, bulky suit out partway.
“My sister’s. I recalled this morning that she had left one at home. She’s taller than you, so it might be a bit long, but it should suffice for today. We never did get to our surfing lesson. I don’t know where the time went. You’ll probably be winging your way back to Illinois soon, so we better hop to it. As in right now. Seriously, the surf’s up, dude.”
“Chad, the tag is still on this suit.”
“What can I say? My sister bought it and never used it. She takes wastefulness to new heights. I suppose all we Rutherfords have that habit. I hope you won’t hold it against me.” He exaggerated a sad face. “Mildred does.”
Jasmyn giggled.
“That’s better.” He smiled and looked somber at the same time, as only handsome Chadwick could. “You know, Jasmyn, the biological family is not all it’s cracked up to be. Which explains my presence at the Casa. We’re family without being family.”