The tattered washcloth covered Jasmine’s forehead as she lay with her eyes closed. But she wouldn’t be able to rest for too long. Soon she’d have to get up and wrap the washcloth around fresh ice cubes. Even the ice in this hotel was cheap; it kept melting faster than any ice she’d ever used before.
This ice pack on her forehead wasn’t doing a thing, though. She still felt like she was going to faint, even though she was lying on this twin bed, which was covered with a hideous floral bedspread.
When was the last time she’d seen a bed with a bedspread? She was used to beds with silk duvets that were as soft as any cloud in the heavens. And sheets that were at least eight hundred thread count. She’d peeked at the sheets on this bed and she doubted that they had any thread count at all.
“Ohhh,” she moaned. Really, there was no way that she could stay here. But what was she going to do? Her children already saw this as an adventure, running from Mae Frances’s room to their own, which was connected to hers and Hosea’s. And then there was the fact that Jacqueline’s Hope would open tomorrow. She had to stay—at least for one night.
The hotel door opened then closed, but Jasmine didn’t move. And though no one spoke, she knew those were her husband’s heavy steps that she heard, then his calming presence that she felt standing over her.
The only thing was that this time not even Hosea could quiet her spirit. That little devil who from time to time stood on her shoulder was there again. Only this time he wasn’t encouraging her to do something she shouldn’t do. This time that little devil was laughing, cracking up, really. That devil was hootin’ and hollerin’ and tauntin’ her.
You’re in a Super 8. You’re in a Super 8.
Jasmine had no idea why, but she heard that mantra in her head for so long that she began to sing along.
“I’m in a Super 8. I’m in a Super 8.”
“Jasmine,” Hosea said as he sat down on the edge of the twin bed. “Darlin’, are you okay?”
Just that quickly, she’d forgotten that Hosea was there. It was official. Rachel had driven her to the brink of insanity. She needed to call her and congratulate her. Tell her she’d won.
As she tried to lift her head, the washcloth fell off, plopping down into her lap, and right away a water spot began to spread across the front of her white linen dress.
With tears in her eyes, she said, “Hosea, I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again. We can’t stay here.”
Hosea lifted the washcloth and tossed it onto the nightstand. “Come on, darlin’. Just like you haven’t always been saved, you haven’t always had money.”
“But I’ve had money for a long, long time now. And even when I didn’t”—she paused and her eyes did a slow scan around the room—“I had enough money not to stay in a place like this.”
“Well, this is all we got.” He stood and removed his watch from his wrist. “And the kids are lovin’ it.”
“Where are they?” Jasmine asked as she flopped back against the pillows. “Ouch!”
“What’s the matter?”
“This isn’t a mattress, it’s a cement block.”
Hosea chuckled. “Yeah, it is a little stiff and hard, isn’t it?”
“And we won’t even be able to sleep in the same bed,” Jasmine whined.
“Who said?” he asked before he turned around and climbed into the bed with her. “See, we’ll just snuggle like this . . . all . . . night . . . long.”
This was the first moment of peace that she’d felt since she’d landed in Arkansas. And if she could stay in Hosea’s arms, maybe she’d be able to handle this hotel.
“Where are the kids?” she whispered.
“With their Nama. She took them down to the pool.”
“So, then, we can stay here like this? For at least a little while?”
“For at least a long while,” he said, pulling her even closer.
The moment she closed her eyes, there was a banging on the door.
“Ugh!” Jasmine groaned. “Who is it?”
“Rachel!”
“What do you want?” Jasmine shouted.
“Can I come in? I need to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Jasmine!” Hosea glanced at her as he rolled out of the bed. “You can’t have a conversation while she’s standing in the hall.”
Jasmine wanted to ask Hosea why not. She never planned to let Rachel into any part of her life ever again. After the opening, she was going to (politely) ask Rachel to stay away from Jacqueline’s Hope and her and her family forever.
She knew Rachel would have no problem with that. Her sister . . . she stopped that thought again. Why in the world did she keep thinking of Rachel as her sister when they would never, ever have that kind of relationship?
When Hosea opened the door, Rachel rushed into the room, then she paused and glanced around the exact same way Jasmine had done about an hour before. And there it was again. That smirk.
“I hope you’re enjoying your accommodations.”
Jasmine sprang up from the bed. “You know what?”
“Ladies,” Hosea said, jumping between them. Turning to Rachel, he said, “You needed to talk to Jasmine?”
And then it was like Rachel just remembered her reason for returning to the hotel, and the smirk she wore vanished. Now her forehead was etched with deep lines.
“We have a little bit of a problem,” Rachel said as she lowered herself into a chair. It wobbled as if the four legs might not be even.
Jasmine said nothing; she just stood and crossed her arms.
“What’s up?” Hosea asked.
“Well,” Rachel began, “and please don’t think this is a trick or anything. My father—our father—and I had nothing to do with this.”
Now Jasmine’s frown matched Rachel’s. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. It’s my . . . our aunt Minnie.” She took a deep breath and blew it out. “She wants you to come ton—”
“No!”
“You have to, Jasmine.”
“The only things I have to do are stay black, pay taxes, die, and get the hell out of Smackover as soon as the center is open.”
“And you need to add one more thing to the list. You have to come to Aunt Minnie’s house for the family fish fry tonight.”
“No.”
“Or else they’re not going to give you the keys to Jacqueline’s Hope!” Rachel cried.
Jasmine had her lips poised to say no once again, but then she stopped and glared at Rachel. “Your family never intended to give me that building, did they?” Before Rachel could answer, Jasmine turned to Hosea. “Get the kids; we’re flying home now.”
“Wait, Jasmine.” Rachel jumped up. “I thought Jacqueline’s Hope was important to you.”
“You know it is!” Jasmine shouted. “And you’re using that against me.”
“I’m not. It’s my family who’s doing that. I mean, our family. I mean . . .” Rachel sank down onto the bed. “I told Daddy your rules, I really did,” she whispered. “But he wants to meet you, they all want to meet you,” she said, sounding like she was about to cry.
There were tears in Jasmine’s eyes, too, when she said, “But I don’t want to meet them. I don’t want to have anything to do with any of them.”
“Why not? They’re your family.”
“No.” Jasmine shook her head. “They’re not. And I don’t want them to be. Don’t any of you understand that?”
Hosea rested his arm on his wife’s shoulder. “Rachel, can you give us a moment, please?”
She glanced at Jasmine and nodded before she scurried toward the door. But before she stepped into the hallway, she said, “Please,” and then she closed the door behind her.
Slowly Jasmine lowered herself to the edge of the bed and Hosea knelt down in front of her. Using the tips of his fingers, he lifted her chin. He said nothing for a moment; all he did was use his thumb to wipe Jasmine’s tears away.
“I don’t want to go, Hosea,” she said so softly he could hardly hear her. “Not even for Jacqueline’s Hope. I can’t do it.”
“You can do it.”
“I know, I know,” Jasmine said, waving his words away. “I can do it with Jesus.”
He gave her a soft smile. “Yeah, Him, too. But you can do it with me, and the kids and Mae Frances. We’ll all be there with you.”
Jasmine thought for a moment, really considered it. But then she shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“My heart won’t let me” was what she said. But in her mind all she saw were images of her father, her real father. And she would never betray Charles Cox.
“You’ll still have the same heart. Only it’ll be bigger because it will be filled with more love from more people.”
More thought. More images. And again she said, “I can’t.”
Sitting next to her, he continued, “You know what I think?” He didn’t wait for her to respond. “I think somewhere deep inside, you do want to meet them.”
“You’re wrong.”
“You do want to get to know them.”
Her head kept shaking.
“Or else you wouldn’t have come here. Because you had to know that Simon was going to find a way to see you.”
“I thought he would stay away. I thought he would keep his word. He’s a pastor, isn’t he?”
Hosea nodded. “But before he was a pastor, he was a man. And a father.”
It didn’t take her any time to say, “He never wanted to be my father, so why should I want to be his daughter?”
“Well, maybe you need to tell him that. Maybe you need to tell him how you feel.”
She sat still, not moving her body, not moving her thoughts. Then she shook her head, and Hosea sighed.
“I’m going to check on the kids.”
Jasmine knew that was just his way of leaving her alone. As if her own thoughts could convince her to do what he could not. But no matter how long he stayed away, no matter how long she’d be alone, she wasn’t going to change her mind.
She’d get another center for Jacqueline’s Hope. She was sure of that. She didn’t need this one in Smackover. Jasmine stood and walked to the window. Usually, no matter where she was in the world, there was always a view. At home, she had Central Park. On vacation, snowcapped mountains or the endless wonder of the ocean. But this view right here was nothing but a parking lot filled with pickup trucks and motor homes.
And then there was the huge black SUV parked right in front with a woman leaning against it, staring at the hotel.
Jasmine took in Rachel for a little longer, and then she turned away.
A second later the door opened and Jacqueline and Zaya came bouncing in.
“Mama,” Jacqueline said, “we’re going to Auntie Rachel’s house. I’m gonna see Nia! Yay!”
She glared at Hosea. “We’re going home,” she told her daughter, even though her eyes were on her husband.
“No, we’re not,” Hosea said. “We’re going over to . . .” He paused. “We’re going to see . . . to meet Rachel’s family.”
Tears sprang to Jasmine’s eyes as her children cheered.
“Come on,” Hosea said, leading the children to the adjoining room. “Let’s change your clothes.” Looking over his shoulder, he added, “And you’ll be ready when we get back, too, right?”
She pressed her hands to her face and held back her sobs. She lay down on the bed and when Hosea came back into the room, she couldn’t hold back anymore. She cried when he told her that he, the children, and Mae Frances were going with Rachel.
When he stood at the door to leave, she asked him, “Why are you doing this?”
“Because of you. I know that this is what you want, but you can’t do it right now, so I’m going to stand in for you. And I’m going to save Jacqueline’s Hope at the same time.” He paused. “Are you sure?”
She nodded and then watched him walk out the door. And Jasmine had never felt so left behind.