The Sapphire Pendant (41 page)

A young woman came and took his arm. “Come on, Dad. They said we can see Mom now.”

The man patted Kenneth on the shoulder. “You take care of yourself, son. Remember what I said.”

“Thanks.” He ran a nervous hand over his chest, wishing he had something with which to cover himself. He brushed his chin then rubbed his hands together, trying to ease the tension that was building inside him. He hated hospitals. He hated the stale smell in the air, the hushed sound of rubber shoes against the tile floor, the crackling of a white coat as a doctor walked by.
 

He had been in so many, sitting in a hard chair holding on to various broken limbs while his mother tried to explain it away to hospital staff as a childhood antic. He rubbed his hands together until his palms began to burn. He hated the feeling of powerlessness. Cosmic irony was definitely afoot. Some celestial god was mocking him, showing him that for all his brilliance he was only a man full of weaknesses and that they knew what they were.

Jessie pinched him. “Breathe, Kenneth.”

He hadn’t realized he’d stopped. He took a deep breath that caused his entire body to shake.

“You can go outside if you wish.”

He felt embarrassed that his discomfort was so obvious. “I’m not leaving you here...unless you want me to go.”

“No, I’m glad you’re here.” She suddenly said, “Hold me.”

“What?”

Her voice grew urgent. “Hold me.”

He pulled her onto his lap and held her close.

“What are you two doing here?” Mrs. Ashford asked.

Kenneth held her tighter. “She had an accident.”

“Oh dear—”

“I’m sorry,” Jessie said in a small voice. “I don’t feel like talking.”

“Of course you don’t dear. I’ll stop by your house later to see how you are.” She walked away.

He watched her go then said in a low voice, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I won’t have you exposed because of me.”

He didn’t understand what she meant by that, but he didn’t understand her. She’d left with Syrah without telling him, yet used her body to cover his bruises. Why? He took her hand, surprised at how cold and clammy it felt. He watched as her eyes began to droop. “Jasmine.” He nudged her, trying to keep her awake. “Stay with me.”

Her eyes continued to close.

“You know Montey was right. You are a walking accident.”

She sent him a clear, hard glare before a nurse called them into a room. Once inside the examination room, one of the nurses handed Kenneth a large towel to give him warmth.

The doctor gave Jessie a tetanus shot, stitched her up, handed her pain medication and then sent her home.

Kenneth didn’t speak on the drive back.
 

She tugged on the green scrub top the hospital had given him. “Ever thought of being a doctor? You’d never want for patients.”

“Why did you leave without telling me?”

She chewed her lower lip. “I wasn’t thinking. I thought Syrah and I could have a sleepover with my sisters.”

“For how long?”

“It wasn’t going to be long. It was just an impulsive idea.” Jessie tried to smile. “Think of it. You get your house back for a few days—quiet and peaceful.”
 

He fell silent then asked, “Are you in pain?”

“Right now my foot is so numb, I forget it’s there.” She picked up the bottle of her pain pills and pretended to read it. “Have you spoken to Eddie?”

“No, not yet.”

She put her pills away.
 

“You’ll need your rest. I’ll take Syrah home with me.”

“She’s fine with me,” she said a little too quickly. “My sisters enjoy her.”

“Jasmine—”

She rested her head back and closed her eyes. “I’m tired. Can we talk later?”

He reached out and stroked her arm then sighed. “Of course.”

* * *

“Come on, Jessie,” Teresa pleaded as the doorbell rang. “Give the guy a chance. He’s been here every day for a week.”

“Tell him Syrah is with Denise,” Jessie said.

“He came here to see you.”

Jessie stared up at her from the couch. “I can’t see him.”

“Before you were ready to charge him with abuse.”

“I’d rather be angry with him than hurt him. I don’t want to tell him about his brother, but I can’t pretend I don’t know.”

Teresa looked helpless. “I’m running out of excuses.”

“You don’t need excuses, just one good reason.”

“Personally, I’m sick of this juvenile behavior,” Michelle said as the doorbell rang for the fifth time. She headed for the door.

“Mich, don’t!” Jessie ordered. It was too late, Michelle welcomed Kenneth inside. He entered the living room with an over stuffed picnic basket under his arm and a large yellow helium balloon with “Get Well” repeated in various languages.

He scanned her critically and beamed with approval. “Well, it’s nice to see you’re well enough to receive me.”

“Actually, I’ve been well enough for a while, I just didn’t want—” Michelle cut off her sentence by yanking Jessie’s hair as she walked past.

“Would you like anything?” Teresa asked.

“No, thanks,” Kenneth said. “I’m fine.”

The two sisters left the room.

Jessie sat up to show him how healthy she was. “So, what did you bring me?” she asked.

He sat down next to her. Jessie tried to ignore the inviting scent of his cologne or the comfort of being near him again.

“It’s my own first aid kit.” He opened the box. “First, Preston’s famous ginger muffins with marmalade.” He put a handful of green oval shaped leaves in her lap. “And leaves.”
 

“Leaves?”

“I thought since you were shut in, I should bring nature to you. Smell them.”

Jessie inhaled their fresh scent.
 

“Then I brought glow-in-the-dark stars. I’ll put them up on your bedroom ceiling so at night you can have the same view I have. See here?” He pointed to a diagram. “They show you how to put it up properly so you can see constellations and everything.”

“But there must be hundreds of tiny stars here,” Jessie protested.

“I guess it will take me a while to put them up then, huh?” His gaze traveled her face and searched her eyes. “That’s okay, I don’t mind.”

Her heart began to pound, silencing the warning bells in her mind. She didn’t remember leaning forward, brushing her lips with his.

The phone rang.

Jessie straightened. “I think I should get that.”
 

Kenneth held her hand, staying her. “One of your sisters will get it.”

She turned away, rubbing her forehead. “Kenneth, I—”

“Don’t think.” He brushed his lips against her cheek then drew her close and held her with a tenderness that broke through all her defenses. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. She inhaled his musky cologne and reveled in his warmth.
 

She took a deep breath, gathering strength. “Kenneth, I know how you got your bruises.”

He stiffened.

“And I’ve seen the same bruises on Syrah.”

She felt his heart accelerate. “No, you couldn’t have,” he said.

“I did. She was trying on a pair of pajamas in the closet and I saw them in the mirror.”

“But that would mean—” He shook his head. “No, no. He wouldn’t.” He drew away from her, his eyes like hollow pools, but she knew there were emotions running deep. “He wouldn’t touch her. We promised each other. We made a vow we’d never.” He shook his head again. “You’re mistaken Eddie—” He took a deep, steadying breath. “He drinks that’s all. I admit that’s a problem—”

“Denial won’t change the truth. She can’t go back to him.” She grabbed his hand, sensing him withdrawing from her, feeling the wall he was building against her. “You’re not alone on this. We’ll think of something.”

He rose. His face too composed, his body too relaxed. “I have to go,” he said in a neutral tone. “I’ll check on you later.”

“Kenneth—” She reached for him, but he moved out of reach.

“Wait!” Teresa cried, bursting into the room. She grabbed Kenneth’s arm and pushed him down. “Don’t go anywhere. Sit straight.” She adjusted his collar.

“Have you finally snapped?” Jessie asked.

“No.” Teresa tossed her a comb. “Fix your hair.”

“She’s finally gone nutty,” Jessie muttered to no one in particular.

Michelle came into the room carrying a tea tray with biscuits. “No she hasn’t,” she said, placing the tray on the table. “Our favorite aunt just called saying she’s stopping by.”

“But we don’t have a favorite aunt. Why are you using the porcelain tea set? We only use that when...” Realization struck her. “Not Aunt Yvette! Please tell me it’s not her.”

“I wish I could, but she feels that it is her duty to meet your fiancée.”

Jessie began biting her nails. “This is a disaster. He can’t handle this right now.”

Kenneth slapped her hand away from her mouth. “Aunt Yvette? That name sounds familiar.”

“It should,” Michelle said. “She’s our mother’s sister—the most obnoxious, condescending British Caribbean immigrant to touch American soil. With mother gone she thinks it’s her duty to lead us on the right path.”

“Kenneth doesn’t have to be here for this,” Jessie said, trying to pull him to his feet. “He’s hurting right now.”

“I’m okay,” he said.

“No, you’re not. Stop pretending.”

“He’ll be a help,” Michelle argued, pushing him back down.

“He’ll be in the way.”

“It will take the pressure off of us.”

“No it won’t. He’ll be riddled with questions.”

“Don’t I have a say in this?” Kenneth asked, trying to free himself from this strange tug of war.

“No,” they chorused.

He shrugged.

“Kenneth stays,” Michelle said, ending the argument.

Teresa rushed to the window when she heard a car drive up. “They’re here.”
 

Michelle paused. “They?”

“Yes, she brought Uncle Harmon...and Cousin Olivia.”

The three sisters groaned their sounds of despair followed by the doorbell.

Chapter 25

“What a surprise!” Teresa said, opening the door. She hugged her relations and welcomed them inside. Aunt Yvette took the main couch. She was a tall, thin woman who had a nose as long as her face. The sisters often wondered if it was solely made for the purpose of being condescending. She had small eyes under thick, heavy eyebrows. She did nothing to counteract this, wearing her gray-black hair in a firm bun behind her head.
 

Her daughter took another seat. Olivia was a paragon of beauty, grace, and intelligence, the absolute pride of her parents and the entire family on their mother’s side. She was a constant thorn to the Clifton sisters.

Uncle Harmon took a seat next to his wife. He was not a particularly handsome man, but he was successful and rich which made up for his features: a round jaw line and big round eyes like one would see in a stuffed toy. His primary job in life was to nod and agree with whatever his wife said, to which, after over thirty some years, he had become especially adept.

Aunt Yvette stared at Jessie. “Good God! What happened to your hair?”

Jessie raised her hand to her head. “Why? Did it go somewhere?”

“Don’t be cheeky.” She fixed her small eyes on Kenneth. “You must be the intended. I must say that your engagement came as a surprise.”

“It came as a surprise to all of us,” Teresa said.

“I don’t believe I was speaking to you.”

Teresa bit her lip.

“So let me see this ring I’ve heard so much about.”

Jessie held out her hand.

Aunt Yvette straightened, offended. “You can’t very well expect me to walk across the room. Come here. ”

Jessie walked over to her—exaggerating her limp—and held out her hand for inspection.

“Unusual, but exquisite nonetheless. You may sit down.”

Jessie restrained from curtsying.

Aunt Yvette glanced at the tea tray. “Where is the brown sugar? You are always supposed to have a selection of white and brown sugar at hand.”

“It’s right here, Aunty,” Teresa said, moving it from behind the cream.

“Much better. It must always be in view. To the greatest extent you should save your guests the effort of requesting anything.” She took her tea and sipped it.

“How are you keeping?” Teresa asked.

“Very well, thank you.”

Michelle spoke up. “What brings you into town?”
 

“Olivia is moving here.”

“She is?”

“Permanently?” Jessie asked, failing not to sound disappointed.

“Well, yes for the time being.” Aunt Yvette suddenly smiled. “And now that you are marrying this young man I am sure that you will be able to introduce her to all the right people.”

Kenneth returned her smile. “I’m not sure that I know all the right people.”

Aunt Yvette wagged a finger at him. “Oh, don’t be modest young man. I know all about you. You’re very successful and charitable and a Preston no less.” She turned to her husband. “Isn’t that advantageous, Harmon?”

Uncle Harmon nodded as if on cue. “Yes, dear.”

“How were you two introduced?”

Jessie groaned at her aunt’s short memory. “This is Kenneth Preston, Auntie. Remember? He used to live across the street.”