Hazel nodded.
"It's nice that you guys are getting to spend time together as a family," Nadine said, smiling at Hazel and getting up. "Come on Jacob, remember you were hungry?"
Jacob looked torn between his hunger and the sandcastle. His hunger won out and he went to hold his mother's outstretched hand.
Wait! Hazel felt herself getting paranoid. What do you know? What do you mean it's nice to spend time as a family?
She didn't say that, though. She waved to Nadine and watched her as she walked down the sand, her son skipping beside her.
"What's wrong?" Curtis asked when she plopped herself down on the lounge chair beside him.
"Nothing. This is great!" Hazel said. "Though it is going to rain. Aren't you going to swim?"
Curtis slowly lifted his glasses and stared at her. "That response was too bright... What's wrong?"
Hazel watched Sebastian as he splashed in the shallow part of the sea and then she swallowed. "Does your father own a modeling studio called Fullham?"
Curtis' lips tightened. "He did. Why?"
"He slept with the models?" Hazel asked, her voice husky.
"I am sure he did," Curtis said, still looking at her with that expectant stillness. "Did you remember something, Hazel?"
"Yes, I went to an engagement party for Adele Myers in the St. Andrew Hills. He was there."
"He would be. He was the one who discovered Adele. She was one of their biggest models for years," Curtis said softly.
Hazel grimaced. "Well..." her voice trailed away. She was not brave enough to ask him what she really wanted to. Was she one of the models that his father slept with? Had she even been a model?
"Congrats," Curtis said in the long pause where she wrestled with herself. "You remembered something."
"Thanks, I think." Hazel cleared her throat. "Curtis, what do you think about me? I mean really think about me? I was a teenager when I got pregnant for a man I don't even remember being with."
She didn't want to say his father's name out loud. Besides, she couldn't remember being with him, so that wasn't a lie.
Curtis studied her and he didn't answer her for a long time. "You want honesty?"
"Yes," Hazel said, holding in her breath a bit. "I can handle it."
Curtis smiled grimly. "I think you are no longer a teenager and I am looking forward to knowing the woman you are now. Except for the marriage to a man who was old enough to be your great grandfather, you seem to be getting on okay."
Hazel winced. "I told you why I did that."
"And I understand to a point," Curtis said grimly, "but I am pretty sure you wouldn't have done it if you had your memories intact."
Hazel sighed. "Yes, I guess...I am pretty sure of that too."
She would have known that she got pregnant for Keith Decker; she could have understood why they had her child. Maybe at that time she would have had no other choice but to agree with them taking her baby? Maybe that was why Patricia was always vague when she asked her about it. Maybe that was why Kenzy always avoided telling her about that summer. It all made sense now. They were trying to protect her.
"I must have been out of my mind," she said out loud.
"That's probable," Curtis muttered. "Or maybe you don't want to remember because you did something that was terrible. Maybe you duped the guy, Sebastian's father."
Hazel winced. She remembered the lie she told about her name and her age. Was that what happened?
"Maybe I did," she said hoarsely and then leaned back in her chair, a wall of depression threatening to embrace her.
"What did your doctors say about your amnesia?" Curtis asked after a while.
"They said I have hysterical amnesia. One doctor told Patricia that I shouldn't force myself to remember. He said that my memories would come back when it was time for them to come back."
"Six years later that hasn't happened, has it?" Curtis asked skeptically.
"Not until I saw that picture with your father. Maybe I haven't been around the right things to jog my memory," Hazel said quietly.
She waited for him to react, maybe to come out and say, Aha, I knew seeing him would jog your memory, but Curtis just glanced at her.
"I hadn't thought of that."
"What's the use? All this quest to remember may be pointless." Her voice lacked enthusiasm.
"Until then we focus on the future," Curtis said, a determined tinge to his voice. "And I can see a dinner with you tomorrow night in your future."
"Thank you." Hazel looked at him gratefully. "If it weren't for you..."
"No thanks yet," Curtis said swiftly, "I am throwing you into the deep end of motherhood next week. I am going to Canada on a business trip. Blake and I have a project to complete there. You are going to get Sebastian for three solid weeks."
"That's good news," Hazel said giddily. "I am looking forward to that so much. Thank you."
Chapter Twelve
Anybody looking in on Monday night would have thought that they were a regular family enjoying some downtime together. Hazel had come over promptly at six as he had requested and Curtis carried home a selection of sumptuous meals from Rizzle. They had a new chef and he was outdoing himself; even Hazel was impressed. She moaned through the whole experience, which sent Sebastian into giggles.
Curtis watched them and smiled. It gave him a warm feeling when he saw them together. When Sebastian laughed, he threw his head back in an almost identical gesture as Hazel's. Already he was looking at her with hero worship, his little body always turning to her, his eyes yearning for her approval.
When Hazel had walked into the house, with her soft, feminine, petite self, she had added a different texture, scent and presence to the dwelling just by being there. Sebastian needed her around. It would be totally unfair to keep them apart based on the past--a past that Hazel didn't even remember.
He was happy with his decision to leave Sebastian with her for a while. They needed the time together to bond without him in the picture.
He glanced at her now in her tight pale blue jeans and her gray tank top. Her hair was done in a topknot; little curls had escaped her hair clip and defiantly framed her face, giving her an almost girlish look. She certainly didn't look as if she was the mother of a five year old son, soon to turn six in March.
She was listening closely to Sebastian while he told her about his day. There was a little smile playing around the corner of her mouth and a soft look in her eyes as she devoured her son’s features piece by piece, as if she wasn't sure that he was real. She didn't want to take her eyes off him for even a moment.
Curtis almost felt jealous at the concentration of her attention on the boy but he suppressed it. He wanted her to look at him with that sort of intensity. He wanted her to…what? Love him too. Just as he...
"Is it true, Dad?" Sebastian broke into his musings.
"Is what true?" Curtis asked, rousing himself with an effort.
"That you are going to Canada for three weeks?"
"Yes." Curtis nodded. "I am. I told you, didn't I?"
"But you didn't say three weeks...that is twenty-one days." Sebastian widened his eyes. "That's a long, long time."
Curtis ruffled his hair. "I'll be back in time for Christmas and you'll get to spend time with Hazel. I'll call you every day. We can video chat."
"Sure, Dad." Then a long pause. "I'll miss you. Are you sure that I can't come?"
"Yes." Curtis glanced at Hazel. She had tried not to wince when Sebastian asked that but he couldn't protect her from stuff like that. Sebastian was very close to him. They had never spent more than a week apart since he got him when he was a baby. Sebastian always protested every separation, even if he was spending time with his grandparents, whom he was quite used to.
"Hazel has a swimming pool," he said, hoping to dispel the fierce frown that Sebastian had over his brow.
But he only shrugged dejectedly over the swimming pool enticement.
"Can I paint at your house?" Se
bastian asked in a small voice.
Hazel looked surprised, "Like what kind of paint?"
"Pictures," Sebastian asked hesitantly.
Hazel nodded. "Sure." She glanced at him with a question in her eyes because Sebastian piped up after that. His little eyes gained back their sparkle, as if Hazel had handed him some sort of prize.
"May I be excused?" he asked eagerly.
"Yes. No more than an hour around your easel," Curtis warned him.
"Yes, Dad."
"What was that about?" Hazel turned to look at Curtis when Sebastian practically ran out of the room
"He's a budding artist," Curtis said. "My mother was the one who recognized it in him. He's really good. He doesn't just do stick people either. Nobody taught him anything and he knows how to do some pretty good stuff. My mom thinks he is a prodigy. He has been doing this since he was three. So I bought him the supplies. The whole works. He has his paintbrushes and his paint stuff and he can get pretty lost in it if you don't monitor him."
Hazel laughed. "That's amazing. Helen Benedict is a painter. Maybe he got it from her, because I don't think I have an artistic bone in my body."
Curtis nodded. "Well, if that talent is genetic, he has got it."
"Another way that my genes speak through him," Hazel said, shaking her head in amazement. "I am going to have to create an artist studio at my house. I know just the room for it. I'll have Mae Joy deal with it for me."
Curtis smiled. "If it is no trouble..."
"No trouble at all!" Hazel shook her head vigorously. "Mae Joy just finished decorating his room, mint green accent walls, pictures of cars, airplanes and other boyish things."
"He loves those too," Curtis said, "just not as much as his painting."
"That's a relief," Hazel sighed. "So tell me about your Canadian trip."
Curtis got up and started clearing the plates from the table. "You sound like you are going to miss me."
"If you want to think so," Hazel murmured, looking down at her nails and avoiding his gaze.
Curtis loaded the things into the dishwasher and wondered idly if she really would miss him. He told her about the reason for his trip, the business.
They moved to the living room with its high ceilings and comfy settees.
She told him about her desire to own a restaurant.
He told her that she was a rich woman and that she could do what she wanted.
"I may not be rich." Hazel looked at him, her eyes widened. "There are two more wills. I'll probably just have enough money to do my restaurant, if that. The lawyers haven't sorted out all of that yet."
Curtis looked at her. "That doesn't scare you, does it?"
"Nah," Hazel said, stretching sinuously on his settee, "I am used to being less than privileged and broke."
"Says the girl who went to Vernfield High. My parents are wealthy and they wouldn't think of sending me and my brothers to that expensive school."
"That was purely by necessity. I wasn't as academically inclined as my sisters and Patricia had no plans to send me to the inner-city for school." Hazel grinned. "It really was a nice school."
"And who has a grandfather that is richer than Midas." Curtis snorted. "Poor and underprivileged you are not."
"I keep forgetting that." Hazel clapped her hand on her forehead with an exaggerated look of horror on her face. "I am a Benedict now, aren't I? I could go begging my family if I am really down and out."
Curtis chuckled. She would never be down and out, not while he had the resources to ensure that she wasn't.
He liked her like this, completely relaxed. She looked like a fluffy kitten, unconsciously seductive. All he had to do was touch her and she would purr. He restrained his thoughts and stayed firmly on the settee across from her.
"What was it like being married to John Baron?" Curtis asked her.
"It was the same as being his companion. I read to him. He liked to hear about what was going on around the world. In the latter part of his life I read the Bible to him. I think it gave him some kind of reassurance. He'd get silent after a reading and look contemplative."
"Mmmm." Curtis leaned back in his chair.
"At the end of the day," Hazel said contemplatively, "it doesn't matter how much money you have or where you've been or what you did. When you are dying it all boils down to, ‘Did I have a good enough relationship with my Maker? What will be my ultimate destination when this all ends?’"
Curtis nodded. "So true. When did you become so wise?"
"Since I had a child as a teenager and lost all memory of his conception. I imagine having to give an account for a lost summer on Judgment Day. Even if I don't remember what I did, I have no excuse. The consequences will have to be faced. That is why I asked God to forgive me for whatever it is I did wrong. I now remember that I lied a lot." She closed her eyes tightly and then opened them. "I am genuinely sorry if I hurt anyone or did anything bad. The thought that I did haunts me sometimes."
Curtis sat frozen at her statement. He didn't know what to say after that passionate speech.
He got up instead, mostly because he needed to do something with himself before he said too much to Hazel.
"I am going to check on Sebastian. Want to see his bedtime ritual so that you are comfy next week?"
"Sure." Hazel jumped up from the settee, looking totally relieved that he had dropped the subject.
*****
Hazel's phone rang so early in the morning that when she looked out through her windows she could see that it was still dark outside. She answered it groggily.
"This is Hazel Decker…I mean Baron, er, Benedict...Brown."
The person on the other end cleared his throat. "Well Mrs. Baron, you have quite a few last names there. I am sure that you don't know me. I am Gabriel Freeman, representing Mrs. Gloria Baron."
"Gloria Baron?" Hazel asked groggily. "Who's that?"
"Technically she is Mr. Baron's fourth wife, the one after his third. They never divorced. So, in essence, Hazel, if I can call you that, you are not really Mr. Baron's wife at all."
Hazel groaned. She switched on the light and blinked rapidly to adjust her eyes to the glare.
"Okay," she said to Gabriel. He sounded he had delivered a stunning blow and was waiting for her to reel from it. "So I am not Hazel Baron."
"We would like you to know that we are suing for her legal share of his estate."
"Sue on," Hazel said sleepily.
"This is not a joking matter, Mrs. Baron," Gabriel said sternly.
Hazel rested back on her pillows. "I would not think it is. It’s three o’clock in the morning. Call the lawyers, not me. How did you get my number?"
"You are listed as next of kin on Mr. Baron's legal documents and it is simply not true. You are not related to him by marriage or otherwise. You have not been cohabiting with him for long enough to be considered a common law spouse either, ergo you are not entitled to any of his money."
Hazel sighed and closed her eyes. Through Gabriel's rant she was trying to figure out his accent and she had just gotten it: he was Canadian. Maybe Gloria Baron was Canadian too.
She needed to close her eyes, just for a moment. She needed to be alert but there was a heavy weight on her eyelids. She was sure that what Gabriel was telling her was important or was his name...Raphael... Uriel...Remiel, weren't there seven archangels? Who was she forgetting?
It was morning before she opened her eyes again with a start. The security buzzer was going off. Her cell phone had fallen to the side of the sheets. A little gap through her curtains showed her that it was an overcast day.
She glanced at the clock and gasped. It was nine o’clock! She had things to do. Mae Joy was probably the reason the security phone was ringing; she had some finishing touches to do on Sebastian's room.
She jumped up, answered the security call and told them to send Mae Joy in, and then she headed for the kitchen to put on the kettle. She needed tea, possibly something calming. She was going to h
ave to talk to the lawyers today. Maybe, just maybe, the phone call from the early that morning had been a prank call. It was possible. If it wasn't, Gabriel or whatever his name was would think her very rude; she had fallen asleep on him. She couldn't remember saying goodbye or really what else he had said apart from the fact that she was not really the fourth Mrs. Baron.
She was still in her negligee, a frothy pink girly piece that she had seen in a shop in Miami that had reminded her of some medieval princess gown with its high waist and rope like braids around the bosom.
"Morning Princess," Mae Joy said when she opened the front door for her.
"Morning Mae Joy. I see you didn't miss the point of the dress. I wanted to feel like a princess." Hazel smiled at her brightly. "What do you know about art rooms?"
"Nothing much," Mae Joy said, "but if you are asking because you want me to decorate one, I will know a lot in fifteen minutes."
Hazel smiled. "Okay. I need an art room. I was thinking the fourth guest room that opens onto the balcony. It has a lot of light. My son is an artist. And he is really good too. Well, as far as I know, but I am definitely biased. I saw a piece that he did last night and I am pretty blown away."
Mae Joy laughed. "Okay. Everybody is biased as far as their little ones are concerned. I am sure your parents said the same about your artwork as well. My mom used to make much over the fact that I had an eye for color coordination. She is the reason I am in this business."
Hazel paused; she wondered if she should tell Mae Joy that they were related. She decided against it as swiftly as it came to mind. Maybe some time in the future; maybe after she had confronted Miss Judd she would do it. She liked Mae Joy.
"Okay, I'll get to it then," Mae Joy said, heading up the stairs. "I have some stuff in the car. Will get that later."
Just Like Yesterday Page 9
