Chapter 46
Dead flies cause the ointment of the apothecary to send forth a stinking savor: so doth a little folly him that is in reputation for wisdom and honor.
—Ecclesiastes 10:1
After Paris got home from her meeting with Darius, she called her father and asked him over. Andrew was gone; he’d left to go play golf as soon as he came home from church. So she and her father would be perfectly free to say whatever they wanted or needed.
She opened the door and gave her father a hug. They then went to the den.
“Daddy, I don’t want to play games or beat around the bush. So I’m going to get straight to the point.”
“That’s fine. I like getting straight to the point. That also means that I can get back home in time to catch my basketball game that starts in about an hour. So what’s up? You and Andrew still having problems?”
“No, this isn’t about me and Andrew. It’s about you and Jasmine.”
“Jasmine? Jasmine who?”
“Jasmine, the little girl that needed the bone marrow transplant,” Paris said.
“Why are we talking about her? If you’ll recall, you didn’t care to take part in the donor process. But as it was, things turned out just fine without you.” Lawrence angled his body more squarely her way as he touched his fingers together like he was clapping with them.
“We’re talking about her because I know the truth.”
Lawrence chuckled and scooted back a little on the couch. “The truth about what, Paris? You’re making no sense at all.”
“Oh, stop it, Daddy! Just stop it! No one is here but you and me. Drop the act. We don’t have time to play around. Look, I know that Jasmine is your daughter, okay?”
Lawrence’s smile instantly fell as he drew his head back as in shock. “My daughter? Now you’re really talking crazy talk.”
Paris picked up a magazine off the coffee table, retrieved a photo she’d put there earlier, and handed it to him.
“What is this?” he asked.
“What does it look like, Daddy?”
He continued to gaze down at the photo. “Well, it looks like Imani and some girl that I don’t know. Is this a friend of Imani’s? What?”
“Does that little girl, that you say you don’t know, look like anybody that you do know?”
“Not really. Why? Should she?”
“Daddy, look at how much she and Imani favor. Look at their eyes. They have identical eyes.”
“Okay, so they favor, according to you,” Lawrence said, setting the picture on top of the magazine. “What’s the big deal?”
Paris reached over and picked up the picture. “The big deal is that this girl on the picture with Imani is the girl that Imani matched and was a bone marrow donor for. That’s the big deal.”
Paris watched as the coloring literally seemed to drain from her father’s face. “Where did you get this? How do you happen to have a picture with my daughter and that little girl? How!”
“I have it, Daddy, because I took Imani to see her, and I took this picture of the two of them together. That’s how I happen to have it.”
Lawrence jumped to his feet. “You did what!”
Paris stood as well. “I took Imani to meet her.”
“Who told you to do that?”
“I didn’t need anybody to tell me I could do it. I told myself. You knew Imani wanted to meet her. You knew how much meeting her meant to her.”
“Yeah, and I told Imani I would arrange something at the end of the year.”
“Why, Daddy?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you want to wait until the end of the year to let my sister meet the person whose life she saved?” Paris took a step back from her father. “Why?”
“I do not believe you did that! You went behind my back and deliberately defied my wishes! You’re practically sabotaging everything I’m trying to do, Paris!”
“Taking Imani to see Jasmine doesn’t hurt you nor will it affect your reelection campaign. But you were definitely hurting Imani by keeping her away like you were doing.”
Lawrence shook his head. “So you decided you knew what was best and took my daughter to do something I said I didn’t want her doing. You completely disregarded my authority as her parent and just decided you’d . . .” He nodded his head. “And just how did you happen to find out where she was in the first place?”
“Why won’t you say her name? It’s Jasmine, Daddy. Jasmine. Her name is Jasmine Noble. And I’m not going to tell you where I got the information.” Paris said it like a scared yet defiant twelve-year-old.
Lawrence nodded. “Oh, you don’t have to tell me. I know how you got it. You were snooping around in our house again, weren’t you?”
“You’re just trying to shift the attention away from the real truth and what we ought to be discussing.”
He looked at her with a cold stare. “And what truth is that, Paris? You think you know so much. What truth might that be?”
“The truth that you are the father. You’re actually Jasmine’s father.”
“Humph! And exactly how did you come up with that? From some stupid photo you took? Because you say Imani and that girl favor? Do you know how often white folks say that all black folks look alike?”
“Stop denying the truth. Just admit it.”
“Admit what? I want to know how you’ve come to this asinine conclusion that I’m that child’s father.” Lawrence folded his arms. “That’s what I want to know.”
“Imani happened to be a match for her. Imani and Jasmine favor . . . a lot.”
“And? That’s it? That’s all you have to be saying something crazy like this? The fact that my daughter turned out to be a match for that little girl. And because of that, all of a sudden I’m supposed to be that child’s father? That’s your brilliant deduction, Sherlock Holmes?”
“Look at her, Daddy.” Paris flicked the photo at her father’s face. “Look at her! Look at her and tell me she’s not your child.”
“Stop flicking that thing in my face. I don’t need to look at it again. I saw it.”
“Did you know that Jessica Noble died?”
Lawrence stopped, unfolded his arm, and looked at Paris. “She died? When did she die? Who told you that? From where did you hear that?”
“Oh, so you’re going to tell me that you didn’t know? You really want me to believe you didn’t know Jessica had died, the mother of the little girl that you went all out for in order to find her a donor?”
“I promise you: I didn’t know. Why would I? This is my first time hearing this.” He sat down on the couch and appeared visibly and honestly shaken.
Maybe he really didn’t know. Paris sat down beside him. It hurt her to see him shaken in this way. “You really didn’t know, did you? So nobody told you?”
He shook his head. “No.” He then looked up at her. “But there really would be no reason for me to have been told. I only met this woman once, and it was only after I started the campaign to help get a bone marrow donor for her daughter. I promise you, Paris: That was my first time ever laying eyes on that woman. And it was only that one time.”
Paris gazed at the picture as she spoke. “I heard that she died about a week after her daughter went home. They say she died on her daughter’s birthday.”
Lawrence looked over at Paris. “Who told you all of this?”
“Someone in the know of what’s going on told me.” Paris didn’t dare reveal her source. She knew how her father felt about Darius. After Darius told her, she’d checked on the Internet, doing a search on Jessica Noble’s name, and verified she had indeed passed away. “I also hear that Jasmine is with Gabrielle Mercedes now.”
Lawrence frowned. “She’s what?”
“She’s with Gabrielle Mercedes-used-to-be-Booker. Gabrielle has her now.”
“Why would she have her?”
“I don’t know, Daddy. I was thinking you would know enough to possibly shed some light on things. Maybe your investigative folks can find out why she has her. But I’ll tell you this. I don’t care how much you deny it. I believe Jasmine is your child. And I’ll be doggone if I’m going to let my half sister be raised by someone like that woman! So if you’re not going to do anything to save Jasmine from Gabrielle, then I’m not going to just sit around and do nothing, hoping for the best.”
“I’m telling you, Paris. I didn’t have an affair, a one-night stand, or anything else with Jessica Noble. I’ve never had sex with her a day in my life. I’m telling you: You’re barking up the wrong tree. This doesn’t concern us. We need to stay out of it.”
Paris smiled. “Well, I’m going to do the right thing for Jasmine. If Gabrielle has custody of her right now, as I hear that she does, then it sounds to me like Jasmine doesn’t have anyone to take her in. Therefore, I’m going to see about getting her.”
Lawrence grabbed his daughter up by her shoulders. “I’m telling you, as your father, you need to stay out of this. Leave it alone, Paris. Let this go.”
Paris broke from her father’s grasp. “I’m not going to let that beautiful child be raised by the likes of Gabrielle Booker, oh, excuse me, I mean Gabrielle Mercedes. Jasmine would be better off with us. I’m married; Gabrielle is not. I have a college degree; Gabrielle doesn’t. I can raise Jasmine up with the finer things of life the way I’m sure she’s already accustomed to. Gabrielle doesn’t have what we have. Jasmine needs someone who knows culture. Gabrielle doesn’t know which fork to use when. I can introduce Jasmine to a world of beauty pageants and glitter, if she’s interested.”
“What about Andrew? Have you discussed this with him?”
“Not yet,” Paris said. “But unlike you, who won’t step up to the plate, even though it may mean your daughter will end up with someone substandard like Gabrielle, Andrew has a kind and good heart. And you can deny that she’s your child until the cows come home. But in my heart, I know the truth. Andrew and I have been praying to have a family. Maybe this is God’s answer to our prayer. Maybe God wants us to start our family by adopting Jasmine.”
Lawrence rubbed the side of his head. “Let it go, Paris. Don’t open this up. I can’t afford a fight like this, not now. You know the media takes things and blows it up. They’ll have a field day if you go after this child. For me, please, leave it alone.”
“Daddy, all of my life, I’ve been selfish. I’ve only thought about what was best for me. Well, for the first time in my life, I’m not going to think about only me. I’m going to do something for someone else. Whether Jasmine is your child or not: She still needs a good home. Andrew and I can give her that home right here with us.”
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Lawrence said. “I’m telling you: You don’t know. So I’m asking you . . . begging you actually, as your father, leave it alone.”
“Well, Daddy, you need to get going. I have a lot to do.” She escorted her father to the door. “Kiss Mom for me when you get home.” She pecked his cheek.