Dawn’s Harbor (Indigo Love Spectrum) Page 2

  She gripped his shoulder and shook him desperately. There was no response. He seemed to have drifted back off into unconsciousness. Fighting against the familiar wave of despair, Jasmine tried to think. If she went and told the nurses now, what good would it do? Who would believe her? The nursing staff in general treated her as if she were invisible unless something needed cleaning.

  It occurred to her that maybe if she stayed a little longer and continued to talk he would return. It was a long shot, but definitely worth a try.

  She sat back in the chair. “I think the little girl’s name is Morgan, at least that’s what I heard the other kids call her. She’s very pretty. She has long, curly black hair and the biggest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. She looks…she looks kind of the way I would imagine Dawn would look if she’d lived to be six or seven.”

  “Eerie,” he said.

  Jasmine’s heart pounded with relief and exhilaration upon hearing his response, but she didn’t trust it to last. As much as she wanted to change the subject, she continued out of fear of losing him.

  “It is eerie, and I’m not sure I like it,” she said.

  His eyes shimmered. “Signs, you have to…read the signs…may be a reason why this is happening. Divine inter…inter—”

  “Divine intervention?” she interrupted his stammering. “I don’t see anything divine about it. I think it’s cruel. Dawn is gone and now I have to see her in some stranger’s child.”

  Noah attempted a smile. “Maybe it’s a sign that Dawn forgives you…wants you to move on.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it?” His voice became stronger and clearer. “What happened to your daughter…was a tragedy, but it was an accident. You can’t bring her back…have to forgive yourself…go on. No point being alive if you don’t.”

  “She wasn’t my daughter. She was my niece,” Jasmine replied sharply. “And if you’re going to remember every detail of my whining sessions at least get the facts straight.”

  He chuckled. “No need to get hostile.”

  “I’m not hostile. I just don’t enjoy talking about this and I can’t imagine why you do. It’s crazy for me to go on and on about myself when you obviously have your own health issues that need to be dealt with.”

  A silence fell over the room as Jasmine became even more aware of the intensity of his strange, mesmerizing stare. His eyes were like smoky cut glass with dazzling beams of sunlight piercing through, both unsettling and alluring at the same time.

  “You’re right,” Noah said slowly. “Don’t remember much.”

  Jasmine evaded his gaze and stared at the window. The shadowy residue of night had faded from the curtains. Daylight was rapidly approaching and she knew she had to leave before someone came in and questioned her awkward presence in the room. Yet she hesitated, trapped between her own desire to just walk out and never look back, and the urge to tell the nurse for his own good, whether he wanted her to or not. He didn’t seem capable of preventing the latter, since he had made no attempt to sit up or even change positions.

  “Need your help,” Noah said.

  “I hope you’re going to ask me to get the nurse before I leave.”

  “No. Not that.” His voice was barely a whisper now. “Please, just listen. Need you to call somebody for me. I remember his number….”

  How could he remember something as specific as a telephone number and little else, she wondered, but she picked up a pen and a notepad from the nightstand, realizing for the first time that there was no telephone in the room. She almost laughed. Of course there wasn’t a phone, a person in a coma would have no need for one. He gave her a number and she wrote it down.

  “Know this sounds crazy,” Noah whispered urgently, “but I’m…in danger. Call Aaron. Please. Tell him I have to see him…soon.”

  He’s delirious, Jasmine thought. “Is that it? You don’t want me to say anything else?”

  “No.”

  She sighed. “Whatever you want. Goodbye, Noah, and good luck.” She moved quickly to the door, still feeling the smoldering heat from his eyes.

  “Jasmine,” he said.

  She paused without looking back.

  “The kid next door…be friendly. Dawn might like it.”

  * * *

  By the time Jasmine had made the tedious journey on the foul-smelling elevator to the twelfth floor and her Brooklyn apartment, she realized that the number he had given her wasn’t even a local one and the charge was going to be her responsibility. She dialed anyway, half expecting it would be incorrect or that no one would even answer. It rang. She waited.

  “Hello,” a voice responded. It was masculine with a touch of a foreign accent she couldn’t quite place.

  “Am I speaking to Aaron?”

  “Yes.”

  “My name is…” She hesitated. What difference does it make what my name is?

  “Your name is…?” he repeated.

  Irritated, she ignored the question. “I have a message from Noah. He wants you to come see him as soon as possible.”

  There was a slight pause. “Message received. Thank you,” he said.

  She heard the phone click on the other end. That was it. No questions asked…nothing. She shook her head and put the receiver down. What was all the mystery about? Who was Aaron anyway? Were the two involved in a same sex relationship? The thought disturbed her more than it should have. But it couldn’t possibly be true, because even though Noah had seen her in a most unattractive light, there was something about the way he looked at her that conveyed with no uncertainty that he was a man who had, and always would, appreciate women.

  Is any of this supposed to matter? Jasmine thought. As soon as he reconnects with his past, he won’t even remember me. Why should he?

  She glared at the clock. It was almost seven A.M. and normally she would have been showered and peacefully tucked into the cocoon of her bed. She had just started her preparations when a familiar sound made her stop. She heard the apartment door next to hers open, followed by a deafening blast of hip-hop music. The door slammed shut again, muffling the music, but it was still loud. A few minutes later she heard someone brushing against her door, then the familiar child’s voice talking to her family of dolls as if she really expected them to answer back.

  School was out for the summer; it was way too early for children to be up and out of the house. She had a good mind to walk next door and tell the mother that she should be taking better care of her daughter. It was something she definitely would have done in the distant past, but instead Jasmine leaned against the door listening.

  “I want to stay with you, Daddy.” The child’s tone of voice was high-pitched, pleading. Then it quickly deepened into a mock imitation of a man’s voice. “I’m sorry, princess, but you just can’t go with me. There’s no place for little girls up here.”

  Jasmine quietly slid the bolt and chain mechanism down, unlocking the door and opening it slightly. The child looked wide-eyed up at her from her cross-legged position on the floor. Her hair was in a messy ponytail and she wore a wrinkled green T-shirt that was much too big, and grimy, untied sneakers. She held a doll in each hand. One of them was a tiny naked girl and the other, a shabby-looking Ken.

  “Hello,” Jasmine said.

  The girl studied her anxiously. “I’m not being bad.”

  “Of course you’re not, but wouldn’t it be more fun if you played in your room instead of in the hall?”

  “But I don’t have a room.”

  “Well, I’m sure your mother would like it better if you at least played inside your own apartment.”

  “She yells at me when I’m there. And there’s too many of them.”

  “Too many of who?” Jasmine asked.

  “Too many kids.”

  The answer amused Jasmine a little, even though the child didn’t realize it.

  “You mean you have too many brothers and sisters?”

  The big dark eyes lowered as she avoided eye cont
act. “They’re not my brothers and sisters. They’re just kids. The social lady said I have to stay with them because my daddy’s dead and Grandma’s sick.”

  Jasmine sighed. Another foster child case. She knew all too well what that was like. She didn’t want to remember her own early years spent being shuttled back and forth from one foster family to another, and finally being placed in a state-run facility for orphans. The memory was too painful, so she didn’t pursue it.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Morgan.”

  “Princess Morgan, that’s very pretty. I like it.”

  Morgan’s face brightened. “My daddy named me. He called me a princess, too.”

  “Your daddy was right. You are a princess.”

  “I like you,” Morgan said. Then she added anxiously, “You’re not really a crazy lady, are you?”

  Jasmine’s eyebrows rose. “A crazy lady? What makes you think that?”

  “Oh…I know you’re not. It’s Tasha and Bobby. They said that you’re crazy and ugly ’cause your hair looks funny and you don’t talk to people and stuff.”

  Jasmine flinched. So she had never been invisible to the so-called neighbors after all. She took a deep breath and swallowed her pride. She was, after all, talking to a child, and children were usually tactless but sincere. “Who are Tasha and Bobby?”

  “The kids,” Morgan replied. “They’re really mean and I hate them. Tasha looks like a gorilla and she’s got bumps all over her face and ugly hair, and Bobby’s lots bigger than me, but he wets the bed like a baby.”

  “I know how you feel, Morgan, but you shouldn’t hate them. Tasha and Bobby don’t know any better. They don’t realize it’s not right to say nasty things about people they don’t even know. I’m glad you’re so much smarter.”

  Morgan beamed. “When I lived with Grandma I was in second grade already…and I’m only six. But when I came here, I had to go to first with the babies again ’cause nobody thinks I’m smart.”

  Jasmine was seeing too much of her past in the child—a past she so desperately wanted to forget. Though part of her wanted to invite Morgan in and continue the conversation, she knew she was not ready. The logical choice was to retreat.

  “It doesn’t matter if other people don’t think you’re smart, as long as you know it yourself. Well, I have things to do. Goodbye, Morgan. Have fun playing with your dolls.”

  She struggled to ignore the child’s disappointed look because it made her feel cold and heartless; still, it was not her problem. She was only one person and she couldn’t be expected to bleed over and over again for the millions of children around the world who felt unloved and insecure.

  “Bye,” Morgan said.

  Jasmine took a deep breath behind the closed door. However, it did not block out the mechanical sounds of Morgan’s chatter, which had resumed as though never interrupted.

  “I know there’s not s’posed to be little girls up there, Daddy, but couldn’t you just ask God for me? Maybe He might change His mind.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Noah was drifting in and out of reality. There was no one in the room to keep him focused, and his brain seemed to be detached from the rest of his body. In his mind, he was walking out of the room and moving in a direction where he felt totally relaxed and at peace. The place was very familiar with brilliant sunlight in a clear blue sky.

  He could hear palm trees gently rustling in the warm island breeze and the melody of frothy waves caressing the sandy shore as he strolled hand in hand with a woman who had a distinctly mesmerizing voice, but strangely enough, possessed two alternating faces. The first face reflected an almost surreal beauty with sea-foam eyes, porcelain skin and golden sun-kissed hair; then the face evolved into another with equally stunning, but more natural, beauty with gold-flecked brown eyes, raven black hair and a creamy, caramel-colored complexion.

  He felt serenity and peace all around him, until the wind suddenly shifted and grew malevolent. The sky darkened and the waves surged forward with storm-tossed fury. The woman beside him became faceless and vanished into the swollen sea. He distinctly heard the sharp cracking of gunfire, followed by moans and cries, voices and explosions. He heard his name being called by many people. But he did not listen; instead, he ran, half-crouching, half crawling, toward the distant mountains, hoping they would conceal him.

  Footsteps echoed from far off, and the visions dissolved into a vaporous haze. Alarmed, he remembered where he was and stared at the grayish white ceiling of the room. He quickly closed his eyes. The footsteps grew nearer. They were different, unlike the whispery, hurried ones he associated with Jasmine, or the dutiful stride of the nurses. These footsteps were brisk, purposeful and they were coming into his room. Relief flooded over him. Jasmine had kept her word. How could he have doubted her?

  “Well, look who’s back,” Aaron said, towering over him. “It’s about time.”

  Noah laughed. He wasn’t sure why, but he did.

  Aaron pulled up the chair and sat down. “Do you remember anything?”

  “I remember you,” Noah said.

  “From where?”

  Noah hesitated. “Israel.”

  “You were never in Israel that I know of,” Aaron said bluntly. “But if you really do remember me, then you must remember more.”

  Noah’s voice tightened with frustration and impatience. “I remember my name and a woman named Jasmine. She’s the one who called you.”

  Aaron stood up again and paced around as though deep in thought. “It’s okay,” he said finally. “It might take some time, but I’m sure your memory will come back.”

  “Jasmine told me that I was in an accident. Can you explain the rest?”

  “I will, but later. The most important thing is to get you out of here and back to Mariel’s place as soon as possible.”

  “Who’s Mariel?”

  “Your mother.”

  There was another long silence. Obviously if this Mariel was his mother, he certainly should remember her. He tried to conjure up an image but his mind drew a blank. Intense anger that he’d been trying to deny bubbled over, and the tall brooding man looming over him became the target for it.

  “Any fool should remember his own mother,” he snapped, “but the simple fact is I don’t! Do I have a wife, too? Kids? Are they dead?” The mounting rage increased. “Why are you looking at me like that? Tell me more.”

  Aaron didn’t even blink. He pulled the chair up closer and sat down again. “Noah, calm down. I know this is tough, but you’re just going to have to trust me. I can’t tell you anything more until you are back home and—”

  “Well, I can’t just get up and walk out of here,” Noah interrupted.

  “Just let me finish. I’m taking care of all the arrangements. You don’t have to do anything except continue to play dead for at least today. You will be out of this place by tomorrow.”

  Noah stared directly into Aaron’s eyes. They were as focused and unyielding as his own disturbingly selective memory recalled them to be. He was just going to have to rely on a gut sense of friendship and loyalty, even though he couldn’t remember when and how the bond had been forged. In either case, the “playing dead” part wasn’t going to be that difficult because he had been out of the coma for some time and no one realized it. Now, uncertain about what lay ahead of him, he wondered if he had made a mistake in asking Jasmine to call Aaron.

  “Where is home?” he asked quietly, resigned. “You can tell me that, can’t you?”

  “Right now home is in South Carolina.”

  At that point, Noah shut down mentally. Whatever had to be done would be done. He didn’t want to hear Aaron’s voice or his silence anymore. The only voice he wanted to listen to was Jasmine’s, and it didn’t matter that she was only the cleaning woman with no connection to his past. He wanted to shield himself with her existence. He wanted to continue to block out everything he didn’t remember from his own life because her life seemed a lot more tangible and
possibly salvageable. He wanted to see her smile.

  In a flash, he recalled the vision he’d had earlier, and it dawned on him that the second woman’s face had been Jasmine’s without the unkempt braids. They had been replaced by dark, shining ripples of hair, and she had been radiantly happy.

  * * *

  Jasmine could not sleep. Normally, regardless of daylight and other outside stimuli, it took her about fifteen minutes after tumbling into bed to blank out the world. Not this time. She tossed and turned, feeling the steamy effects of the mid-June heat wave. She found herself staring intensely at the flaking paint on the ceiling and then at the window. Not even one tiny breeze stirred the filmy yellow curtains. The traffic down below seemed amplified a hundred times.

  “Shut up!” she yelled, seizing the pillow and pulling it over her face.

  It didn’t help. In her mind she kept playing over and over again what had happened a few hours ago. That moment when Noah had ceased to be her sounding board and become a real person. She was happy for him—or was she? He would eventually rediscover his life, barring any setbacks, and he would return to it. She, on the other hand, had spent months exposing herself to him. If he had retained even half of what she had revealed, the humiliation would be unbearable. She never wanted to see him again. The thought echoed in her mind as she finally drifted into a fitful, dream-plagued sleep.

  It was late in the evening. She was nine years old, waiting in a busy bus terminal, hanging on to the hot, sticky hand of her three-year-old sister Natalie, who had a bad cold and was alternating between crying, whining and coughing. Jasmine was trying not to cry herself. Their mother had told them to sit on the benches with the luggage while she went around the corner to the ladies’ room, but she had been gone for a very long time.

  “I want Mommy,” Natalie whined.

  “We have to wait here ’cause someone might steal the suitcases,” Jasmine said for the tenth time. Natalie started crying loudly.

  Jasmine wanted to slap her, but knew it would only make things worse. “Shut up! She’s gonna be back soon.”

  Natalie’s coughing was worse. Jasmine was not only scared but angry as well because she didn’t think it was right to be getting on a bus and traveling far away with a sick kid. Her mother’s ideas were always crazy. Why couldn’t she be more like the mom of her best friend Lisa? Lisa was probably home in bed asleep in her own room right now. She would wake up in the morning and her mother would be there to take care of her and her little brothers.