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JASMINE
Amonth later…
Zeke and I decided to make it permanent, and we’ve moved in together. It’s been a wonderful adjustment. Zeke insisted that I decorate as I like. I added splashes of color here and there, hung a couple of pictures on the walls, and we’ve filled the living room wall with photos of the two of us, our friends, and our families.
Paris has been charged and is awaiting trial, along with Connor. Christie Madden has hired the best lawyers, but in the end, the evidence is so strong that the only option is to give a plea of guilty. Her best outcome is life in prison, with the possibility of parole in twenty-five years. Because of her family’s prominence, they need to place her in protective custody within the prison for her own safety.
In that time, I decided to go ahead with a DNA test to see if it matched Gregory Madden or Constance Jerrit. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, and it took me over a week to pluck up my courage to read the results. Zeke sat by my side, “No matter what, Lily and Austin Belfour are your parents. This is a look into your history,” he said. “They’re not here, and your parents are. Look at this as an opportunity to see where you came from.”
Surprisingly enough, I felt better. Gregory and Constance are a match and are my biological parents.
I’m still not sure how I feel about the inheritance. It’s not like I knew Gregory personally. Nick Davis got a copy of the results, and he asked me to return to his office for a meeting. We’re on our way over now. Zeke holds my hand all the way.
Nick greets us in the waiting area. “It’s good to see you again, Jasmine. Zeke, a pleasure.” He stretches out a hand to take Zeke’s.
“How are you doing, Mr. Davis?” I ask.
“I’m well. I’m more concerned with how you’re feeling,” Nick says. We walk with him to his office. “I can’t believe that Paris was responsible for Greg’s death.”
Zeke adds, “Don’t forget Constance.”
“Yes, of course. Unfortunately, I never got to meet your biological mother. I’m sure this has taken quite a toll on you.” Nick directs me to a chair, and Zeke takes the one next to me, while Nick sits across from us. Nick reaches for a folder and opens it to take out the documents. “This is the money your father wanted you to have. It’s deposited in this account.” He points to the form. “National Trust, and the bank manager is a friend of mine and will take care of you.”
“It feels weird taking this money. It seems tainted. So much blood spilled, two people gone, taken from their families and friends.” My eyes meet Nick’s. “This seems so wrong.” Zeke holds my hand tighter.
“There’s so much good you can do with this money. Think about your future. One day, you’ll have kids, and the money can go toward their education,” Nick says. “Greg would have loved to have been a grandfather.” Sadness fills his voice.
“It’s safe in the bank for now, baby. Leave it there. Take your time. Nothing has to change. We just keep going on as we are, and when it comes time, you’ll know what to do,” Zeke says.
“There’s one more thing.” Nick stands and goes to his desk, where he picks up a large book. As he gets closer, I see it’s a photo album. “This is from Christie. She isn’t ready to talk with you, and I’m not sure if she ever will be. But she accepts that Greg was your father and thinks you have the right to know about what kind of man he was. I added to it. I wrote out some stories and put them at the back.” He hands over the album fronted by a professional headshot of a very handsome Gregory Madden.
“Thank you.” It’s lame, but I can’t think of anything else to say. “Mr. Davis—”
“Nick, please,” he corrects.
“Nick. Do you think we can have lunch or something sometime soon?”
“Of course. Anytime.” He smiles a genuine, bright smile. I glance at Zeke, and he too has a grin on his face.
* * *
Zeke
This last month has been hectic. The arraignment for Paris and Connor didn’t go as they planned, and they’re being held without bail until trial. Jasmine was brokenhearted at the sight of Paris’s mother, Christie. She was staying strong and even in the wake of despair looked every bit the polished and professional wife of Gregory Madden.
Christie glanced over several times at us. She wasn’t angry. There was a profound sadness that was felt all the way to where we were sitting, across the room. Jasmine wanted to go over and speak with her. I advised her not to and to wait until Christie was in a better place. Jasmine reluctantly agreed, understanding the agony of a mother watching her only daughter be sent to prison for the death of her husband. This was too much to ask of anyone. Heartbreaking, in fact.
We’ve both returned to work. I went with Jasmine on her first day back. The kids missed her, and with the help of some other staff teachers, they had a welcome-back party for her.
Jasmine’s my love, my one and only. I only have to see her with her students to see her magic or lying in bed with me after we’ve made love to see her passion for life. A long time ago, I was given some great advice from my father when I first started dating. I didn’t get it then, but I totally do now. He said, “Love should be easy. They fit your life and you fit theirs. The blending of two people isn’t meant to smother either of you, but to hold each other up when you need it.”
Jasmine fits. We fit. It’s as simple as that. She loves the quiet of trekking through the forest for our hikes. She’s more excited than I’ve ever seen her while planning our camping getaway with the guys and their women, and we’re looking at houses near Caleb’s property for a place where she can have her garden.
With all the upheaval, I decided to surprise Jasmine with a visit from her parents. I called Austin a week ago and made the arrangements. We’re driving directly to the airport from Nick’s office to pick them up. Jasmine is so distracted with her own thoughts that she hasn’t caught on that we’re not going the direction of home.
“You’re very quiet, babe. Should I be worried?” I tease her and get a shy smile for my effort.
“This all could have been so different, you know. I could have had a sister. Someone to trade secrets with, have girly nights, that sort of thing. Instead, it’s just so messed up.”
