The door opened and Yolanda entered. She took hold of her grandmother from behind and dragged her away. In Yolanda’s strong grip, her grandmother settled.
Cerise hesitated. To leave them like this was wrong, but to stay was even worse.
Yolanda led her grandmother to bed. “Go, child. Go as far as you can, and don’t come back here. Leave these things for us to bury.”
Cerise gave her grandmother one last look, then fled into the hall. She ran into Osiris on the stairway. He’d dressed in his boatman uniform per her request.
“You ready?” he asked.
On impulse, she flung her arms around his waist. “I love you,” she said.
He chuckled and patted her back. “That young man loves you more, so let’s go. Where’re your things?”
She motioned toward the landing. “Downstairs.”
***
“This is an incredible piece,” Sullivan craned his neck backward toward the newly assembled glass. “I don’t know how you do it.”
Andre laughed. “Very carefully.”
“It’s going to be … huge. You say the room is really large?”
“Enormous. There’s more than enough room for it.” Andre pounded his friend’s back. “I will have to have you to hang it, you know.”
Sullivan peered one eye his way. “You don’t pay me enough for that.” A visible shudder moved across his shoulders.
“No, but you’ll go anyway.”
Sullivan’s face showed his doubts, so Andre let the subject go. He wouldn’t push it. He could always take Tanner instead, but Sullivan was a better choice. Sullivan, Frankie, Pierson, Kennedy, and Huang.
“It’s months away from being completed anyhow,” Andre said. “There’s the central glass to make, and the smaller pieces surrounding it.” By then he could convince him. He hoped.
“Still, it’s magnificent.”
And heavy and time consuming and incredibly expensive. Andre turned his back on the work and headed for his office. He seated himself at his desk and trailed his fingers over the blueprints. They were on schedule. Might even be finished early, which was ideal. This was one headache he’d be glad to be rid of.
Thoughts of the fixture brought Cerise into his mind. What had happened since he’d gone? Had she read anything in the Bible at all? Or had the ease of staying as she was kept her stagnant in the same fears and shadows of the past? Because that’s what usually happened. Changing was hard, and though you intended to do it, often the power to continue fell short.
He’d prayed for her, and for himself. He had to keep trusting God. God had worked out everything so far. He wouldn’t fail.
Andre made a notation on the side of the blueprint and moved to his computer screen. The final design of the fixture revolved in virtual reality. He clicked a button that lit it up from the inside and leaned back. It was perfect, or it would be. It was everything he’d planned, the precise symbol to forever end the Delacroix legacy.
End or begin? Alter. That was a better word. Again, change. Change that name into something good, something appreciated.
A knock at the door brought his head up. The slender brunette framed in the opening brushed a curl off her neck. “You had a phone call while you were gone.” She crossed the room, the legs of her slacks swishing together, and dropped a square paper beneath his nose. It fluttered into place. “Something you aren’t telling me?” she asked.
He read her note twice before looking up at her. “This is it?” He turned the paper over as if there was more, but there wasn’t.
“Yes, the caller said to meet there at two.”
“The caller who?”
Who had called? No way he was meeting some random stranger anywhere at two, and especially not there. What would a psychiatric care facility need with any type of glass?
The brunette’s lips twisted into a sly grin. “Let’s say she said you’d been waiting a long time for her.”
Andre jolted upright. “She?”
“MmmHmm.”
He leaped from his chair. Half an hour. He had thirty minutes to get there. He patted his pocket for his phone and keys.
“Wait, is this the new love of your life?” the brunette asked.
He dashed for the door, not answering, and down the stairs.
“She’s in a nut house?” The question followed him into the lot. Not until he was on the freeway did he address it.
Why did she want to meet him there? The answer rose up immediately and stared him in the face. Her mother. She’d indicated she wasn’t well. Yet why ask him to come there today? Maybe she didn’t have a ride. She could have taken a cab from the dock and dismissed it, especially if she was going to stay for a while. It could be that simple.
The facility sprawled on several acres of land at the end of a tree-lined drive. It was peaceful-looking. Green grass dotted with white concrete benches decorated a small garden alongside the entrance.
His stomach flipped and flopped. He parked and shut off his car, but postponed his exit. He shouldn’t be nervous. After all these weeks of wondering, here she was. She’d come back to him.
But what would she be like? They’d had only one night together, what felt like so long ago. Would the change in environment work against them, the lack of the house, lack of confined space? What if things were awkward?
Trust. The word rose again, and he embraced it. This wasn’t about history, ancient curses, or her grandmother’s hate. This was about him and her seeing if what had been forged between them could really stand the test of all that had been thrown at it and survive. He had to believe it could.
Andre left his car, and one foot in front of the other headed for the entrance. Crumbled asphalt swept against the curb skittered beneath his shoes. He stepped onto the sidewalk and headed toward the front doors. The lobby was clean and quiet, pristine. Not what he expected. But then, he wasn’t sure what he expected.
A young girl sat behind a desk situated directly in front of him. She smiled bright, exposing perfect, white teeth. “Can I help you?”
Unsure who to ask for, he stumbled.
“Sir?”
A voice from behind called his name. “Andre.”
Spinning on one heel, he scanned the corridor for her face and his heart squeezed. “Cerise.”
She walked toward him, her heels clicking on the tile, her hair perfectly arranged. Her eyes were moist and her lip trembled, but a smile rested there. She stretched out a hand and took hold of his, working their fingers together. “I want you to meet someone,” she said.
The beat of his heart grew slow, ponderous. He pulled in a breath. She turned around and tugged him forward. He followed for a few feet, then pulled to a stop. “Cerise, what is this?”
She took his other hand in hers. “I did what you said. I read the book of John.”
He heard the disbelief in his own voice. “You did?”
She laughed, a musical sound. “You doubt me?”
“No, but …”
“And I prayed,” she said. “It’s all so simple.”
He studied her. She was happy, peaceful. He should have confidence in that. A slant of light pressed through the window glass into a square on the floor at their feet.
“Cerise, I …”
She cut him off. “I need you do something for me, something that will heal a shattered heart.”
His mouth dry, he didn’t speak. He owed this to her, and to his father for bringing them together. But what exactly was she expecting to happen? Wouldn’t his presence only bring pain?
“I don’t know,” he said softly. “I don’t want to hurt her.”
“But don’t you see?” Cerise asked. “Jesus didn’t simply rise from the dead and disappear. He comforted his followers. He spoke to Mary because she was upset, so she’d know it was Him.”
She had read then. His heart lightened.
He’d never considered that part of the story. She was right. Jesus wanted his disciples to know He was alive. But the d
ifference stood stark in his head. That was the Savior, who really was alive. “I am not my dad, and I won’t pretend to be him,” he said.
“I’m not asking you to. But seeing you, knowing a piece of him is still alive will be enough.”
“You can’t know that.” Why he argued with her when they were here and she was so resolute seemed pointless.
Again, she laughed. “How is it I have to convince you not to be afraid?”
He blew out a breath. “Point taken. But tell me this first. Are you doing this for her or for yourself?”
Cerise never batted an eye. “For us, Andre, so we can put it behind us.”
CHAPTER 9
“Mother, I’ve brought you a visitor.” Cerise touched her mother’s shoulder, causing her to look up.
“A visitor?” Strands of her brown hair fluttered around her face.
Cerise smiled. She looked well today, and that was promising. “Yes.” Cerise took her mother’s hands. So small and delicate. “I want you to meet the man I told you about.”
“The glassmaker?”
“The glassmaker. But I have to tell you something else first, before he comes in.”
Her mother’s brow wrinkled.
The open living area they were seated in was sparsely populated at the moment. A handful of patients sat in various places, quietly reading or playing games. But there had been times when she’d visited and someone became unruly. That was always upsetting and today, wouldn’t be good. She’d prayed for quiet, for everything to happen in tranquility.
“Mom, don’t be upset. Promise me.”
Her mother’s gentle smile creased what was still a lovely face. “How can I be upset if I don’t know what you’ll say?”
“Well, because this man is Levi’s son.”
At Levi’s name, her mother’s face reformed. Her eyes moistened and a certain shakiness came to her lips. “Levi has a son?”
Cerise stroked her mom’s fingers. “Yes. His name is Andre, and he’s come to see you.” Cerise looked behind and found Andre’s gaze. She jerked her chin for him to come forward.
She’d never seen him as afraid as he’d been in the corridor, and she’d known by his expression that maybe she hadn’t handled this correctly. He had wanted to see her first, to have some reunion, and instead, she’d sprung this on him.
Andre’s footsteps moved across the floor, and he paused a few feet away. Her mother twisted her neck toward him and a cry escaped – a sort of choking gasp. Yanking her hands from Cerise’s grasp, she stood to her feet. One trembling hand rose to his face.
Andre made no move, or attempt to stop her, but stood there, silent.
“You are like him,” she said, “and I had thought him dead and gone.” Her voice broke at the end and a sob escaped, shoulders shivering, she bowed her head and cried.
Cerise went to rise, but Andre motioned her in place. He gathered her mother against him, his arms around her back.
“He … was … so beautiful,” she said between breaths. “He said we’d marry, but Del had asked for us to come for the weekend. Couldn’t we do that first? One weekend. We’d have so much fun …” She raised her face. “Say it,” she whispered.
By his expression, Andre obviously had no idea what she was asking. He glanced at Cerise.
“Mom, what is it you want him to say?”
“I love you,” her mother breathed. “Say you love me.”
Cerise rose and came up behind her, but her mom jerked away. “No, I’m not crazy. I just want to hear the words again. Give me this.”
Andre dropped his hands to his sides and stepped back. “I’m not him. I never knew him.”
Her mother’s eyes drew together and she pursed her lips.
“I’ve been told I look like him but not much else until recently.”
Her mother spun on her heel. “How did you find him? You searched? How?”
Cerise wadded her hands at her waist. “I didn’t find him. Grandmother did.”
At mention of her grandmother, her mom spat in the floor. “Hateful woman. Never did a good thing in her life.” She stretched her hand toward his arm and curled her fingers around it. “I don’t blame him for trying to move on, but …” Wistfulness came into her voice. “He never forgot me?” The question was spoken in a miniscule voice, one mixed with skepticism and hope.
“My mother says he didn’t”
“Your mother.” At the mention of her, Cerise’s mom relaxed. “I must sit,” she said. “Please, would you?” She waved toward the chairs.
Andre seated himself opposite her, but Cerise took up a stance behind him, one hand laid on his shoulder. Her mother noticed, her expression changing yet again.
“Who is she?” she asked, her gaze focused on the pair of them.
“A wonderful woman who loved a man who never forgot the girl he left behind.”
Tears held in her mom’s lashes. “When he died, I died with him. I couldn’t look Del in the eye because he gloated over it, practically beamed that Levi was gone. And I collapsed, which made him angry. He threw me against the wall, broke my collarbone.” She touched it, as if the pain lingered.
Her voice became a growl. “‘He’s dead. There’s nothing left of your lover.’ That’s what he said to me.”
“Why?” Cerise asked. “They were friends. Why did he hate Levi?”
Her mother shrugged. “His success? His ability to draw people to him? That he had me.” Her eyes drifted past them.
“Do you think Father …”
“Was responsible?” her mom finished. “Of course, he was responsible. Del wished Levi gone for years; his actual death only confirmed that. But did he cause it? I don’t know.”
Andre’s discomfort communicated itself through the palm of her hand. Cerise glanced down at him. He was definitely agitated. He drummed his fingers in a synchronous rhythm on his knee.
He probably didn’t want to talk about this. She hadn’t thought of what all might be said. But then, why would this be so upsetting? He’d said he hadn’t known his father.
Cerise returned her eyes to her mother’s face. “Mom, there is more,” she said.
Her mother’s face softened, and the tears dried on her face.
Andre rose from the chair and walked over to her mother. Taking one of her hands, he pulled her up. He dug in his pocket and extracted an object. “Cerise said to give you this. She said coming from me it’d mean more, and I confess I have no idea why.” He pressed it in her palm.
She stared down at the amber stone and inhaled sharp. “You found it,” she said.
He shook his head. “Not me. Cerise.”
“In your old bedroom,” Cerise supplied. “Grandmother said it belonged to Adelaide Delacroix.”
“Adelaide? Oh, no, dear. That was another.” Her mother turned the stone over in her palm. “A rumor mostly, something about blessings and saints. No one ever saw it.”
“But she said you wore this once …” Confused, Cerise faltered.
“This one, yes. When Del found out what it was, he threatened to destroy it, so I hid it away. Then, when I left the island, no one knew where it was, and so it stayed behind.” Her mother held the stone up and light glinted through it, refracting on the walls and the floor of the room.
“Wait. What was it?” Cerise asked. “Why would he want it destroyed? Isn’t it expensive?”
Her mother lowered it into her palm. “Expensive? Maybe it holds some value, I don’t know. As to what it is, it’s a simple piece of glass.”
“Glass?”
“Yes,” her mother replied. She looked at Andre, and taking hold of his hand, laid it in his palm. She folded his fingers over it. “You should have it.”
“Me? I can’t.”
Her mother smiled. “Do you love my daughter, Andre Garner?”
Andre shifted his stance. “Yes, ma’am. Very much.”
“Then things have come back to where they ought to be,” she replied. “I regret nothing in my life t
o give her that.” She tapped his closed fist.
“Mom, why should he have the stone? You’ve asked for it before. I thought you’d want it for yourself.”
Her mother detached herself from them both and returned to her chair. “No. Not now. Now, it should be his.”
“Why?” Cerise asked again.
Her mother’s answer sent them both backward into a seat.
“Because his father made it.”
***
“She lied,” Cerise hissed. “I can’t believe she lied to me. All those times she’d talk about Levi, her words were degrading. ‘He had no career, no money to support a wife. Think of how your mother would have lived without the Delacroix dollars.’ That’s what she said. And no, I didn’t fully believe her. He’d obviously loved my mother. I saw her heartache too strong every time I visited to believe otherwise. But still I thought the Delacroix were rich, and Levi Garner was not.”
Andre let Cerise rant, his mind going several places at once. They’d left her mother and moved outside into the garden, taking seat on a bench beneath a young oak tree.
“Sure, I knew she didn’t like Levi,” Cerise continued. “And you’d think that’d tip me off. But no … not even then did I wake up.” She fisted her hands. “I was so stupid.”
She stomped her foot in saying it, and he laughed.
“What’s funny about this? Nothing’s funny. Your father made that, and it’s … it’s …”
“Amazing?” he finished.
She scowled at him. “You’re still laughing.”
He cupped her chin. “Because I’ve never seen you so out of control.”
She inhaled at that and a smile crawled on her face. “I am out of control. Aren’t I?” She sighed. “How many other things has she said that weren’t true? All I’ve known is now smoke and mirrors?”
Andre cleared his throat. “There’s something else she lied about.”
Cerise hooked her fingers around the rounded edge of the bench, looking as if without it she’d fall. “I’m not sure I can take much more.”
“But this is good. Well, in the sense that truth is better than fiction.”
Glass Page 9
