A House Divided Page 10

  “The best part of my day,” he said, kissing them both on the head. He crossed over to his wife and leaned down and kissed her, to the giggles of their daughters. “How’s my favorite girl?” he said against her lips.

  Kimberly cupped the back of his head. “Better now,” she said and smiled.

  Rowan’s dark brows drew together. He sat down next to Kimberly. “What’s wrong? Is it the campaign?”

  “No, just a little worried about my mother.” She ignored his slight groan. His ambivalent feelings about her mother were no secret between them.

  “The storm?”

  She nodded. “The lines are down, and I can’t reach her.”

  “She’s a tough one. I’m sure she’s fine.”

  Kimberly offered a vague smile. “You’re probably right.”

  He patted her hand, placed a quick kiss on her cheek, and stood. “I’m going to take a shower. How about we go out to dinner tonight? I know the girls would love it, and you could use it.”

  “You know me so well.”

  “Great. Give me a half hour.” He walked out.

  Meeting Rowan had changed her life on so many levels. They met nearly fifteen years earlier while she worked at a small law firm that handled violations of civil liberty. It had been the path of her brother, Kyle, that she had followed, mostly because she believed in justice and partly because, with her brother gone, it was her hope that if she picked up his mantle, perhaps she would finally earn her mother’s love.

  She often wondered, and maybe now more than ever, how different her life would be if Kyle had not been killed. Would she have chosen the life of her mother—socialite and wife—or would she still have followed in his political footsteps?

  Although she was only in second grade at the time of the accident, she would never forget the emptiness that filled the house like an unwanted guest after his death.

  Kyle was much older than she was, and she often heard herself referred to as a “change of life baby.” But to Kyle, the age difference didn’t matter. He never dismissed her or made her feel that she was in the way. More often than not, he took her everywhere that was feasible and sat with her at night before bedtime and talked with her about his plans to change the world, emphasizing that she could, too.

  “Our family is a family of privilege,” he’d said one night during their talks.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means, pumpkin, that we are a little different from a lot of other families. We have money and position in our community. And because of that, people tend to listen to what we say, and we have the money to make a difference in people’s lives who are not as lucky as we are.”

  She frowned as she tried to grasp what her brother told her. “Are we different from Ms. Claudia and Sage, and Hy and Rose?”

  She seemed to remember an odd look in his eyes that made her palm his cheek, the secret “handshake” they shared if something was wrong. He held her hand against his cheek.

  “Yes, we’re different. So it’s important that we do good things with our privilege. We have a responsibility.”

  “Should we give our money away to those people, like Ms. Claudia?”

  Kyle laughed. “Not exactly. But we can use our money to help. And we can use our voice to talk about what is important for all people. That’s why I want to run for office, so that I can work to help people.”

  “Me too!”

  He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Maybe one day you will. But right now”—he pulled the sheet up to her chin—“I want you to get some sleep.”

  She yawned. “Can I have some water?”

  “I’ll ask Ms. Claudia to bring it to you.”

  “Okay.”

  He kissed her again and left.

  That was the last time she saw her brother. He went out that night to an event but never made it home.

  “Ready?”

  Kimberly blinked to see her husband standing in front of her.

  “Oh, goodness. Daydreaming.” She forced a smile and stood.

  “About?”

  She shrugged slightly and slid her arms around his waist. “A little melancholy. Thinking about my brother for some reason.”

  Rowan hugged her. “It’s good that you haven’t forgotten him and that you’re keeping his dream alive. He would be proud of you. I know I am.”

  She lifted her head and looked into his dark-blue eyes. “I love you.”

  “Keep that kind of talk up and we’ll never make it to dinner.” He stroked the cleft in her chin, then took her hand. “Girls! We’re ready. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  “Good morning,” Gail greeted as Kimberly entered the office.

  “Morning.” She stopped at Gail’s desk. “Haven’t been able to reach anybody back home.”

  Gail’s expression softened. “Oh, yes, the storm. Hopefully, everything will be up and running today. I heard on the news this morning that the storm had passed.”

  “I know. A lot of damage.”

  “I’m sure your mom is fine.”

  Kimberly pushed out a sigh. “Anyway, I guess a silver lining is that it has slowed Zoie Crawford down for a minute.”

  Gail laughed. “But you know reporters. They always find a way.”

  Kimberly groaned. “Unfortunately.”

  * * *

  Zoie slowly opened her eyes. The first thing she noticed was the silence. The rain and howling winds had ended. She stretched her long limbs beneath the patterned sheets and turned her head to see Jackson fast asleep in the overstuffed armchair by the window.

  The prior evening resurfaced in her head, but she was still unsure what had gone wrong so quickly. The pull between them had been unmistakable, the brief kiss a prelude to more until the clarion call to come and eat put what she thought was a temporary hold on what was to come.

  When she’d returned to her room with their dinner and his dry clothes, the atmosphere was decidedly cool. Jackson’s entire demeanor had changed from hot and ready to standoffish and all business, as if what had transpired between them only moments earlier had never happened.

  “Did I do something?” she asked in confusion.

  Jackson didn’t look directly at her. “No. You didn’t do anything.”

  She dropped the clothes on the bed and set down the hurricane lamp. “So why do I feel like I left one person in the room and came back to find someone else?”

  Jackson looked at her in the dimness. His voice was low. “Z, as much as I want to reclaim every inch of you, we gotta be real. Jumping into bed isn’t going to fix what we broke. You’re going to be back here for a while . . . let’s take it slow . . . see what happens. If you really want to.”

  Her back stiffened. Her brows rose and fell. “Wow.” She never felt so stupid. She lifted her chin. “Hey, you’re right. Bad storms do things to folks.” She snorted a laugh. “Anyway, here’s your bowl of stew. It’s pretty good.” She placed it on the blanket.

  “Thanks. Z, look—”

  She held up her hand. “If you’re going to give me the ‘let me explain,’ don’t. I’m a big girl, and what you said makes perfect sense. So let’s move on.”

  Jackson slowly nodded his head.

  They spent the rest of the evening in the semi-dark room, reading Claudia’s journal and letters by the lamplight. Many of the notes talked about her baby girl, Kimberly, and the good life she would have and how she prayed for forgiveness.

  “I have to agree with you, Zoie; there is definitely more to this. What that is I’m not sure.” He paused. “If I didn’t know better,” he said slowly, “I would believe that your grandmother had another child—Kimberly.”

  Zoie’s heart felt like it stopped. In the back of her mind, she thought the same crazy thing. “I’ve been scared to say that out loud,” she confessed. “But it doesn’t make sense.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Crazy.”

  “It would explain Nana’s attachment to the family if she gave her child to the Maitland
s to raise,” she said, tentatively easing down a dark road. “It would mean she would be doing for her child exactly what her parents had done for her. I guess . . .”

  “Things were different for us back then. We’re talking about the fifties in the South.”

  “I know. I mean, I get it on some level, but my heart won’t accept that. Not Nana. She drilled into us the importance of family.”

  “If the sketchy time frame is near correct, your grandfather was dead by then.”

  “Meaning that if Nana had another child, it was by someone we know nothing about.” She vigorously shook her head. “Nana having a child by some unnamed man and then giving her over to another family to raise while she what . . . pretended to be the housekeeper! I can’t wrap my mind around it, Jax. I mean, if I do, then everything I’ve been told and felt and believed about my grandmother is a lie. She’s not the woman I thought she was.”

  She moved away from him and paced the dimly lit room, then suddenly stopped. “If any of this craziness is true, that would make Kimberly Graham my aunt. An aunt who was raised as and clearly believes she’s a white woman. Damnit, that sounds like some mess out of Imitation of Life. She shook her head. “No. Can’t process that.”

  “Then I guess this is where your investigative skills come in. If it’s there, you’ll find it. If you want to. But if you do go down that path, there might not be a way to come back from it.”

  “Maybe that’s what my Aunt Sage meant when she said to leave it alone.” She was quiet for a moment. She looked at him. “But I can’t.”

  * * *

  Jackson shifted his position in the chair and groaned. His eyes flickered open, and his gaze landed on Zoie, who sat on the side of her bed.

  “Hey,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep. He rotated his neck and groaned again.

  “You could have slept in the bed, you know.”

  “Yeah, right. We know where that would have gone.” He yawned, stretched, and stood. He turned around and went to the window and opened the shutters. The room flooded with light.

  Fallen branches and debris covered the front yard, but the sky was crystal clear. He could feel the rising heat through the window.

  Zoie got up and joined him at the window. “What a mess. Oh no! The garden.” She scrambled around for her shoes.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “If you run into anyone on the way, act like you just got here,” she said, looking up at him from tying her sneakers. “No point in putting ideas in their heads.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like something going on between us that isn’t,” she said, with more bite than she intended. She saw him flinch slightly, but she didn’t care. He’d led her to believe that maybe there was a chance of reconciliation, and she’d been foolish enough to open her heart to the possibility. Then the moment of truth arrived, and he jammed on the brakes. Fine. Jackson Fuller was not the reason she’d returned to New Orleans, and he certainly wouldn’t be the reason she stayed.

  Zoie opened her bedroom door, and much like they’d done in their early days together, they tiptoed down the hallway to the stairs, concentrating hard to avoid the telltale squeaky floor planks.

  Fortunately, her mother and aunts were not up and about. Zoie stopped in the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, then they went out back.

  Miraculously, there was not as much destruction as she’d imagined. The tarp had held, and only minimal damage was done to several tomato vines. The grounds, however, remained saturated, and that did not bode well for the vegetables.

  “I have no idea what to do about all the water,” she said, looking out at the rows of vegetables that lined the garden.

  “Well, if Louisiana holds true to form, it will be hot enough to dry out this water in no time.” Jackson gingerly walked along the rows, testing the sturdiness of the root vegetables and the vines. “I think you’re in good shape. Your grandmother had a really good drainage system. The entire plot is angled for runoff. What we do now is get rid of any debris and walk as carefully as possible so we don’t pack down the wet soil. Anything that’s ready, we need to go ahead and harvest.”

  Zoie stared at him in wide-eyed amazement. “Wait.” She propped her hand on her hip. She pointed the index finger of her free hand at him. “Since when do you know so much about gardening?”

  He chuckled and shrugged. “Just know stuff.”

  “Really? Just know stuff?”

  He hesitated. “Alright. I didn’t want to say anything, but when I heard that your grandmother had gone into business . . . I stopped by. We talked, and she gave me a tour. I asked a bunch of questions, and she was happy to answer every one.”

  Zoie didn’t know what to say or think, and worse, she didn’t know how to feel about Jackson remaining connected to her family without her.

  “Oh” was all she could manage. A part of her was jealous of the time Jackson and her grandmother had shared, and another part was guilty because she hadn’t been there for her grandmother when she was dying.

  “Her big dream was turning this all over to you.”

  Now she really felt guilty. “So . . . will you help me . . . with the garden?”

  When he smiled at her, the butterflies in her belly broke free.

  “No problem.”

  She remembered to breathe. “Great. We should get something to eat first.”

  “I do have a favor to ask.”

  “What?”

  “Give me a lift to see about my car?”

  “Oh, God.” She slapped the heel of her palm against her forehead. “Your car! I totally forgot. We should do that first. Let’s get some food. Hopefully whatever is in the freezer didn’t defrost and spoil.” She breezed around him and walked back to the house.

  When they reached the kitchen, three pairs of gray-green eyes landed on them in a combination of surprise and suspicion.

  “That you, Jackson?” Hyacinth exclaimed.

  He grinned. “In the flesh.” He walked over to where she was seated and kissed her cheek.

  “Always liked that boy,” Hyacinth said.

  “I didn’t hear you come in.” Sage looked Jackson up and down and offered her cheek for a kiss.

  Jackson sidestepped the statement and kissed her cheek, then stepped over to Rose and did the same.

  “How are you, Ms. Rose?”

  “Maybe not as good as you,” she said softly and winked.

  He squeezed her shoulder and took a seat at the table.

  “Checked on the garden. Jackson is going to help me clean up.”

  “Hmm.” Sage murmured. “You planning on spending time here, young man?”

  Jackson cleared his throat and shot Zoie a quick look. “Only to help out. I do have a business to run,” he added.

  “That’s your project up the road,” Rose stated. “The Horizon Housing Complex.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Good thing you doing for the community,” Sage said. “Poor folks need housing too.”

  Zoie listened in silence. She’d been so wrapped up in her own issues that she hadn’t really registered or asked any questions about what Jackson was involved in, but clearly her family was aware and thought highly of him as a result. Had she always been so self-absorbed?

  Jackson’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from his back pocket.

  Zoie watched his expression when he looked at his phone.

  Jackson glanced up. “Excuse me.”

  Zoie could hear him talking as he walked away but couldn’t make out the words. What she did know was that it was definitely a woman. She’d know that look anywhere.

  CHAPTER 11

  “Hey,” Jackson said into the phone.

  “I’ve been so worried,” Lena said on a breath. “Where are you? Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Everything’s fine. I had some car trouble, trying to be superman,” he tried to joke.

  “What kind of car trouble? Do you need me to pick you up? Where are you?” she
asked again.

  He tried to keep his voice light. “Missed the road and drove off into a ditch.”

  “What! Oh my God. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. Really. Actually, I’m heading over to see what condition the car is in now.”

  “Heading over from where?”

  “I’m here at the Bennett’s house.”

  Silence.

  “Oh,” she finally said. “What are you doing there?”

  Even as the words flowed from his lips, he knew he was doing a piss-poor job of explaining. He wasn’t exactly lying to her, but the guilt of what almost happened danced in his head.

  “So . . . you spent the night there? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “Listen, it’s no big deal. I’m lucky someone was home.”

  “Humph, I’m sure.” She paused. “Is Zoie still there, too?”

  “Yes, she is. You know she came back for the funeral.”

  “Extend my condolences to her.”

  “I will.”

  “Jackson . . . I’m not generally the possessive or jealous type. I don’t want to be that kind of woman. But you and Zoie−”

  “Babe, nothing is going on with me and Zoie. We were a long time ago.” That much was true.

  She sighed into the phone, and he could almost see the expression of doubt on her face, the look of worry in her eyes. Lena knew all about him and Zoie. When they got together and he saw that the relationship was getting serious on her part, he was upfront with her. He tried to make it clear that he’d been rocked by their breakup and that it would take him a while to wrap his mind around being that involved again. But Lena was willing to hang in there. She literally nursed his heart and spirit back to health. With Zoie living hundreds of miles away, the idea of reconciliation was not on the table. But Zoie was back, and feelings he’d thought were dead and buried were being dug up by the hour.

  “When will you be home?”

  “As soon as I can. Gonna take care of the car and check in with the team at the development site. Why don’t you come by tonight, or I can come to you?”

  “Let’s talk about it later. I’ve got to go. Staff meeting.”

  “I’ll call you.”

  “Sure.”