Jack hits it off with Dean and Lyle, and after a companionable day on the river, he invites our small group over for a cookout. Jazz wears shorts, but I slip on a flowery sundress, a touch of femininity to soften my stark hairstyle.
Jack is waiting on his small front porch when we arrive. He’s told me a little about the arts and crafts-style house he bought and renovated after his wife’s death, but his descriptions didn’t do it justice.
I hand him the log of goat cheese and box of crackers I picked up at the Local Market on the way over. “I love your home. You didn’t tell me it was so big.”
He blushes. “Because it’s way more than I need. But it was a good investment. If I ever decide to sell, I stand to make a huge profit.”
I kiss his cheek. “This is your dream home. Why would you ever want to sell it?”
“Because the house has so many idiosyncrasies—slanted floors and bowed walls. Not everyone will find that appealing.”
I take that everyone to mean me. “Maybe not, but I imagine most people find those features charming.”
He gives us the tour of the downstairs—a small foyer with a dining room to the left and living room to the right leading to a renovated kitchen with a family room addition on the back. The decor is handsome without being overly masculine with walls painted a rich khaki color.
“There aren’t many arts and crafts homes in Hope Springs,” he explains. “I’ve always particularly admired this one. The elderly lady who lived here before really let the place go. About two months after Jenna died, the woman’s family moved her to a nursing home and put the house on the market. I snatched it up, even though it needed a ton of work. The project was a welcome distraction during those dark days. I’ve done all the work myself.”
“You’re kidding? All of it?”
“Every last bit. I built the kitchen cabinets and updated the electrical and plumbing. A couple of my guys helped with some of the more labor-intensive projects. But mostly, it was all me.”
“I’m seriously impressed, Jack. The house really showcases your expertise as a builder.”
He beams. “I’m glad you approve.”
The other two couples arrive at the same time, their arms laden with food and drink. Katherine hands Jack a bouquet of zinnias and a bag of fresh tomatoes, purchases from the farmers market, and Cecily offers a tray of mini cheesecakes for dessert.
Our easy camaraderie from earlier continues throughout the evening. Jazz dances around the bluestone patio while the guys cook burgers on the grill and the girls set seven places at the rectangular umbrellaed table. During dinner, Jazz is visibly bored with grown-up talk, and when she falls asleep in my lap soon after she’s finished eating, Jack carries her upstairs to his guest bedroom.
Our guests linger until nearly ten o’clock. After we say goodnight to the foursome at the door, Jack dims the lights and turns on soft jazz music. Taking me in his arms, we dance in small circles in the center of the living room.
“Your G.I. Jane hairstyle is really turning me on. I could hardly take my eyes off of you all night.”
My cheeks warm. “I may have noticed.”
“I’m not sure I can make it until our date next weekend.”
I nestle my face in his neck. “Tell me about our date. Do you have anything special planned?”
He lets out a groan. “Do you need to ask? We’re going to have sex.”
I laugh. “That’s it? Just sex?”
“Not just, Stella. Sex will be the highlight. We’ll have it more than once in multiple positions.”
I nibble at his ear. “What will we do for food?”
“Food is not high up on the agenda. But, if you insist on eating, we’ll order a pizza. Or I’ll make you an omelet.” He glances toward the stairs. “Jazz is sound asleep. How about we have a quickie now?”
I draw away to look at him. “A quickie? We’ve waited this long, and you want to ruin it by having a quickie?”
“Damn straight,” he says with a maniacal grin.
“No!” I slap his chest. “We are not having a quickie. Besides, Jazz could wake up any minute. She’s in a strange place and she might be scared. I want to hear her if she calls me.”
As if on cue, Jazz’s faint voice drifts down from above. “See. I told you.”
“I’m consumed by lust.” He follows me to the stairs. “In the best interest of my health, I may have to refrain from seeing you until our date.”
Over my shoulder, as I climb the stairs, I toss back at him, “We work together, remember?”
“Right. In that case you better get used to this,” he says, and grabs a handful of my butt.
I let out a squeal and dart to the top of the stairs.
Down the hall in the guest bedroom, Jazz is sitting up in bed with tears streaming down her face. “Oh, honey.” I rush over to her, taking her in my arms. “What’s wrong?”
She sniffles. “I’m scared. When I woke up, I didn’t know where I was. I thought you’d left me.”
“No, sweetheart. I would never leave you. Are you ready to go home?”
She nods, chewing on her lower lip.
When Jack tries to pick her up, Jazz reaches for me instead, clinging to me like a baby koala on the way out to the car. After buckling her into her car seat, Jack kisses me goodnight, which ends up being more than a peck on the lips. When I feel eyes on us from the car, I reluctantly push him away.
On the way home, Jazz asks, “Are you and Jack getting married?
“I don’t know, Jazzy. Maybe one day. But we only just met. We’re still getting to know each other. Why do you ask?”
“I was wondering what would happen to me if you do.” In a hopeful voice, she adds, “You could adopt me and be my new mommy and daddy.”
“You already have a mommy and daddy,” I say to her reflection in the rearview mirror.
“But what if they never come back?”
“They’ll come back,” I say with more conviction than I feel.
Derrick has yet to reach out to me, even though he was due back from his fishing trip weeks ago. And I’ve heard nothing from Naomi in the six weeks she’s been gone. I have no clue when or if she’s coming back.
As much as I love Jazz, I’m not sure I’m ready to be a full-time parent. The truth is, I’m as sexually frustrated as Jack. I’ve finally fallen in love with the right man, and we can’t find any time to be alone. What if Naomi doesn’t ever come back? I can’t . . . I won’t turn Jazz over to child services to be placed in a foster home. I’ve never discussed it with Jack. Would he be willing to raise a child that’s not his? The situation causes me considerable anxiety, and I try my best not to think about it. But with each passing day with no word from Naomi, my concern mounts.
The counselors at last week’s bible camp got the kids excited about attending Sunday school, and Jazz is up bright and early the following morning, raring to go. After breakfast, we throw on casual dresses and set out on foot toward town. We’re halfway down the driveway when we see Naomi’s silver Honda speeding toward us. Naomi jumps out of the car, and when she drops to her knees to embrace her daughter, Jazz hides behind my legs.
Naomi stands to face me. “Stella.”
I nod at her. “Naomi.”
“What happened to your hair?”
“Opal has leukemia,” I say by way of explanation about my shaved head.
“Oh. That’s too bad,” she says in a manner that tells me she doesn’t care one way or another about Opal’s leukemia.
“How was Arizona?” I want her to know that I know where she’s been and what she’s been doing.
“Arizona was exactly what the doctor ordered. I feel like my old self again. Thank you for taking care of my child. I see you’ve succeeded in turning her against me, but that was a risk I had to take to get the help I needed.”
I hold my tongue. I won’t say all the things I need to say to this woman in front of Jazz. “We’re on our way to Sunday school. Why don’t you get settled? I’ll bring Jazz over afterward. Coincidentally, my mom’s visiting for a few days. She’s been staying in your suite. You’ll have to take the other one.”
“But . . .” She starts to protest and then clamps her lips shut.
I’m sure she’s thinking about the cleaning necessary to make the other suite habitable. But that’s not my problem. Jazz and I stroll off hand in hand down the driveway.
Jazz’s cheerful mood from earlier has disappeared, and she walks in silence to church. I should try to lift her spirits, but I can’t think of a single positive thing to say about her mother’s sudden return.
I drop Jazz at her classroom, grab a coffee from the fellowship hall, and find my way into a bible study geared for my age group. People stare, but no one comments on my bald head.
Jazz and I agreed we’d only go to Sunday school, but when I pick her up from her classroom, she begs me to take her to church. I recognize the stall tactic, and I go along with her without an argument. It would’ve been nice for Naomi to give us advance notice of her return, not only so I could prepare Jazz but so I could prepare myself.
On the way back to the farm, we stop in at the pharmacy and order grilled cheeses and chocolate shakes for lunch. Jazz, wearing the biggest mope face ever, doesn’t touch her food.
“Come on, Jazz, is it that bad?” I ask, taking a bite of my sandwich.
Her eyes fill with tears. “Why can’t I live with you? You make me food, and we do fun stuff together, and I’m never scared.”
A chill travels my spine. “Are you scared when you’re with your mom?”
Jazz nods as fat tears trickle down her cheeks.
Is this child in danger? Is Naomi abusive? Damn it! I wanna know where Derrick is in all this. “What does your mommy do that scares you?”
“She yells at me a lot, and sometimes when she’s sleeping, I can’t wake her up.”
“So . . .” I set my sandwich down on the plate and reach for Jazz’s hand. “Remember when I told you that your mom was sick inside, and she went away to get help so she’d feel better?”
“I remember,” she says, staring up at me with big round eyes.
“Well, the doctor sent her home because she’s better.” I have no idea if this is true. Is a six-year-old too young to have a cell phone? “I don’t think you’ll be scared anymore, but if you ever are, I want you to come find me. I’m usually at the cottage or in the main building. And there’s always a security man on patrol. You know, the guys we always wave at in the white truck with the blue lights on top?”
“Martin,” she says.
“That’s right. Martin is one of them. But there are a couple of others. If you ever need help, you flag one of them down. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I nudge her with my arm. “You’re not going to let that perfectly good chocolate milkshake go to waste, are you?”
She brings the straw to her lips, but she takes only a sip.
I try everything I can think of, but I can’t get her to eat. Finally, I give up and pay the bill, and we walk back to the farm in silence.
While I pack her things in her suitcase, Jazz sits on the end of the bed with her arms hugging her belly as though it aches. It’s nearly two o’clock by the time I walk Jazz over to the carriage house.
My heart sinks when Naomi swings open the door to her suite. A sheen of perspiration covers her face, and there’s a wild gleam in her eyes. I look past her into the room. Clothes are strewn across the floor and beds are unmade. She’s far from being well. How can I possibly leave this child alone with her?
I tighten my grip on Jazz’s hand. “Maybe it would be better if Jazz stays with me for a few more days. At least until you get settled.”
Naomi swipes her forehead with the back of her hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll be perfectly fine. Come on in, sweetheart.” She steps out of the way so Jazz can enter. “Let me finish cleaning the room, and we’ll go out for some fresh air.”
What has she been doing for the past three hours? I wonder.
Jazz removes her iPad from her suitcase and sits down on the edge of the mattress.
“Where’d you get that?” Naomi asks.
“Stella bought it for me when I was in the hospital,” Jazz answers without looking at her mother.
Naomi’s gaze shifts to me. “The hospital?”
“You’ve been gone a long time. We should talk. In private.” Brushing past Naomi, I kneel down in front of Jazz. “Your mommy and I are going downstairs for a minute. Will you be okay up here by yourself?”
“Whatever,” she says, and I can tell she doesn’t want me to go.
I follow Naomi down the stairs. When we reach the lounge, she turns to face me. “My child was in the hospital? How dare you keep that from me.”
“That’s so ridiculous, it’s laughable. You’re a narcissistic bitch, Naomi, who doesn’t deserve to have a kid as awesome as Jazz. Did you ever once consider my feelings? No! You just assumed I would be willing to take care of your daughter. Lucky for you, I adore Jazz. Otherwise I would’ve reported you to social services.”
There’s fear in her voice when she asks, “But you didn’t, did you?”
“Not yet. But I will if you give me reason to. It took the police forty-eight hours to locate you when Jazz came down with bacterial meningitis.” Naomi appears grief-stricken. “That’s right, Naomi. Bacterial meningitis. We had quite a time of it. I thought we might lose her.”
“I don’t understand. Why wasn’t I notified?”
“I suggest you ask your doctor in Arizona that question. He didn’t want to disrupt your therapy. Don’t get me wrong. I applaud you for seeking help. It’s your manner of going about it that I have a problem with. And where is your husband in all of this? Oh, that’s right. I forgot. He’s fly-fishing in Montana. Except that he’s been back from his little trip for weeks now.”
Naomi tenses. “You still don’t know, do you, Stella?”
I stop pacing and turn to face her. “Know what, Naomi?”
“You’re pathetic.”
“No! You’re the pathetic one.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of movement in the entryway. My mother’s blonde head as she’s exiting the front door. How much did she hear?
I step toward Naomi, getting close to her face. “I’m warning you, nothing better happen to that little girl up there,” I say, pointing at the ceiling.
“Or else what, Stella?”
“Or else you’ll have to answer to me.” It’s a stupid thing to say, but the only thing I can think of in the moment. Naomi isn’t afraid of me. She isn’t afraid of anyone, because everyone around here always caters to her needs.
I storm out of the carriage house, and with tears blurring my vision, I stride down to the lake. Dark clouds are building in over the mountain range. Is it supposed to storm? I don’t remember hearing the forecast.
I don’t see Mom, sitting on the pier, until I nearly trip over her. “Jeez, Mom,” I say, gripping her shoulder as I prevent myself from falling.
Craning her neck to look at me, she asks, “What on earth did you do to your hair? Wait. Let me guess. This has something to do with Opal’s leukemia. What exactly were you trying to prove by shaving your head?”
“I wasn’t trying to prove anything. I was trying to show Opal how much I love her.” I start back in the direction I came.
“You’re not only pathetic, Stella, you’re a fool,” she says to my retreating back.
I spin around. “So, you were eavesdropping.”
“Somebody has to save you from yourself. It certainly won’t be my brother or my mother.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? And why am I a fool?”
Tucking her long legs beneath her, she gracefully rises to her feet. “Being here has brought back so many wonderful memories of summers past. Jasmine used to grow wild along the side of our cottage. Billy loved that sweet smell. He said it was soft and delicate like me.”
The song lyrics come crashing back to me.
Jasmine, sweet as a summer blossom,
Wherever you go,
Whoever you’re with,
You’ll always be in my heart,
My Jasmine, my love.
My voice is barely audible. “You’re Jasmine.”
Mom’s face is grim. “I am . . . I was . . . Whatever.”
Thoughts race through my mind. None of them make much sense. “I don’t understand. Why would Naomi name her child after Billy’s old lover?”
Mom shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“I’m sure it’s a coincidence. Naomi’s married to Derrick. He’s Jazz’s father.”
“Stella, please. I can’t believe you haven’t figured this out yet. I knew the minute I saw Jazz. She has Billy’s eyes. Billy is Jazz’s father.”
I shake my head to clear it, to allow this revelation to sink in. “Are you saying Jazz is my half sister?”
“It appears so.”
The possibility has always been there, lurking at the corners of my mind, but I was too afraid to hope for fear of the letdown if it proved not to be true. I’m so tired of the secrets and the lies. I glare at Mom. “Why are you still here?”
“I keep asking myself the same question. I figure I’ll know when it’s time to leave.”
“No one wants you here, Mom. Do us all a favor. Come down off your weed cloud and get on the next plane back to New York.”
I start off again toward the cottage, but Mom grabs me by the arm, holding me back. “Please, Stella. I want to work things out, not only with you but with Brian and Opal.”
“I remember that day in New York, Mom, when we saw Opal on the street. She came all that way to see us, and you were so rude to her. Your own mother? I don’t blame Opal if she never forgives you.”
“You wouldn’t understand this, Stella, having never experienced that kind of betrayal. When my family turned their backs on me, I cut them out of my heart and my mind. I admit I was hard on Opal. She tried to make things right. At least in the beginning. But Brian taking Billy’s side hurt me to the core.” Mom’s chin quivers, and she pauses for a minute to collect herself. “Our stepfather, Robert, was a lousy husband and father. He spent much of his time on the golf course, and there were often rumors about other women. As a result, Brian was extremely overprotective of our mother and me. He always had my back. Until he didn’t. Until he turned on me.”
Mom’s admission tugs at my heartstrings. “I imagine that was difficult for you.”
“I want to put the past behind me and make things right. Unfortunately, neither Opal nor Brian will see me. Will you talk to them for me, Stella?”
Anger pulses through me. “No way! You’re on your own here, Mom. You all have used me as a pawn against one another long enough.”