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“She certainly is. I can’t believe it’s been seven months since she was born.” Jasmine stretched her back.
“What are you making me for dinner?” he asked.
Jasmine stirred the pot. “Mom’s chicken noodle soup recipe.”
Bently nodded. There were so many memories clinging to even the simplest mention of their parents. Good and bad shadows lurking behind triggers of trauma past.
He cleared his throat. “You doing okay?”
She smiled. “I’m doing a lot better. I started to go to a group thing once a week. It’s really helping me deal with . . . everything.”
“You mean for single mothers?”
She shook her head, storm clouds dimming the light in her green eyes. “No, for survivors.”
“Oh. That’s good. If it’s helping you.” He shifted in his seat. Talking about the past was uncomfortable. He preferred to leave it where it belonged, and avoid the topic altogether. “You never told me who Zoey’s birth father is.”
She added a pinch of salt to the pot and stirred it again. “How are you doing?”
“One of these days, you’re going to have to tell me,” he pushed.
“Today isn’t that day,” she said firmly.
“I just want to make sure you and Zoey get the best in life. If I need to kick some deadbeat’s ass, I will,” he assured her.
Jasmine rolled her eyes. “It’s nothing like that. Just drop it, Bent.”
“Fine,” he grunted, turning his attention back to the sleeping bundle in his arms. Zoey had her mother’s almond-shaped eyes, but his niece’s were a stunning gray blue.
“You never answered my question,” she said, ladling some of the soup into a bowl and setting it on the table.
“Which one?”
“How are you doing?” she repeated.
“I’m fine.”
“You ever think about talking to someone about Mom and your dad?” she asked, making a bowl for herself.
“Why would I? They’re gone. Nothing to discuss anymore.” The smell of the savory soup wafted over to him. His mouth watered and his belly grumbled.
“Just because it’s over, doesn’t mean the wounds aren’t still there. Until you deal with them, they’ll fester.” Jasmine took the seat across from him.
“You been watching Oprah?”
“The therapist in the group told us that. It made a lot of sense to me.” Jasmine scowled.
He put his hand on his sister’s. “Look, I’m really happy this is working for you. But talking about shit I can’t change doesn’t do me any good.” In fact, it made him angry. He’d failed his mother, his sister, and his brother. He couldn’t protect them when they’d needed him most.
“Thank you, Bently. I know I haven’t gotten the chance to ever really say it. But you’ve always been there for me. You’re the only one who never ever left. I appreciate everything you do for me, and now Zoey.”
His throat grew tight. He didn’t deserve this. He could spend his entire life in servitude of his sister and it would never make up for the time he’d failed her so horrifically.
Turning his attention back to Zoey, he said, “Who could say no to this cutie? She’s the only girl who will ever have Uncle Bently tied around her finger.”
Zoey’s pink rosebud lips moved as if she was suckling in her sleep. Her little eyebrows frowned and then relaxed. Peace and calm swallowed him up as he held his niece. All was right in the world, at least for the moment.
Chapter 10
