“Do you remember the Pittsburgh Phone Booth Baby? On June 9, 1968 a baby girl was abandoned in this very phone booth. A passerby discovered her and delivered her to the hospital, where it was determined that she was healthy, and approximately 48 hours old. If you know any details that would help this family discover the identity of this baby’s parents, please contact us. We appreciate your help.”
She left her cell phone number but no name. She enlarged the size of the font to as big as she could fit on one page. She printed it out, grabbed a roll of tape from the kitchen drawer and jumped in her car.
* * *
That evening, Jasmine called her mother. She purposely omitted discussing the fact that she’d reopened the Phone Booth Baby case by taping her mini-poster inside the phone booth where her mom had been abandoned. It was a long shot anyway, considering Leslie was now in her late forties. Even if Leslie’s birth mother had come back to the phone booth every year on the anniversary of Leslie’s birth, or the date she’d abandoned her there, it probably would’ve only lasted a few years. A decade, at most. Not over forty-five years. But still, it was worth a try. She was leaving it in God’s hands. If it was God’s will for this mother to find her long-lost daughter, maybe God would use this poster as a way to make it happen.
But there were plenty of other things to talk about with her mom.
“So, I now have over twenty-five photos of Dax wearing my male fashions, three different outfits. We went to the top of Outlook Point on Mt. Washington.”
“Oh, my. I can just picture the backdrop. The whole city.”
“Yes, the setting was fantastic. I literally took hundreds of photos and it took me forever to whittle them down. I’m sure I probably eliminated some good ones but I’m happy with the ones I ended up with for my portfolio.”
“Well, he’s very photogenic.”
“Mmmm.”
“And very handsome.”
Jasmine laughed. “You noticed that, did you?”
Her mom chuckled. “Yes, I did.”
“I’ve got some other news, speaking of Dax.”
Her mom’s voice was smooth with a hint of humor as she said, “Oh really? What could that possibly be?”
“We’re official. We’re together. I mean, dating.”
“I wondered! Congratulations, sweetheart. He seems like a very nice guy.”
“He is. I mean, he amazes me each time I talk to him. He had the most horrible upbringing, but he’s formed himself into a good man, despite all odds. He knows more about the Bible than I do, and he has better instincts about prayer and meditation, even though I’ve grown up as a Christian. I guess he knows what the other side of life is like, the non-Christian life, unlike me. And he likes this better, you know?”
“That’s wonderful. I didn’t know he had such a strong faith. All I could tell when we were in New York was that he cares for you, deeply. He took care of you during your injury and he sacrificed his job to make sure you were safe and taken care of. You can tell from how he looks at you that he cares about you. In my book, he’s a keeper.”
Jasmine sighed. “Yeah, the only thing is, of course, the distance. Why couldn’t I have met him when I’d first gone to college instead of two days before I was leaving? Doesn’t seem fair.”
“God probably has His reasons.”
“Have you ever had a long-distance relationship?”
“Not really.”
“I mean, if we were long-term and committed, we’d be making plans together. But I’m doing my job search. I’ll go anywhere for a good job in the fashion industry. What does that mean to him? I doubt if there’s anything for me in Ithaca. Would I expect him to move for me if I got a job, say in New York City?”
“Whoa, way too early, honey. Take it a day at a time. Figure out if you like each other and get along before making plans to move him to another city.”
Jasmine groaned. “It’s so hard.”
“Maybe one of God’s lessons in this one is the old saying, let go and let God. We’re not always in complete control of our lives. We need to be patient and let things unfold along with God’s will.”
“Hmmm. Patience is not one of my strong suits.”
She laughed. “Yes, I’ve noticed.”
They wandered back to the subject of the photo shoot. “So Mom, I have the men’s fashions part of my portfolio covered now. But I don’t want to be limited. I’m versatile. I want to show my women’s fashions, and I even have some new ideas for children’s designs.”
“Okay, good. That would increase your employment opportunities.”
“I can pull out the women’s garments I designed and sewed for Senior Seminar. I think they’re still good indications of my skill level. But I need someone to model them for me. Someone tall, slim, who moves well.”
“I think I know just the candidate.”
“Who?”
“Emma. Jeremy’s wife.”
Jasmine gasped. “Yes! She’d be perfect. She’s so pretty and she fits the bill. With that mountain of hair, she’ll be stunning in photos.”
“Come on down to Pawleys and do the photo shoot on the beach! It’ll be a great contrast to Dax’s city shots.”
“Wait. I’m having a brainstorm. If I take a few days, a week, to design and sew a couple children’s outfits, I could have Stella model those. I could knock out both in the same trip.”
“Great idea.”
“I’ll call Marianne to get Stella’s measurements, and I’ll call Emma for hers. We’ll set something up in four, five days or so.”
“Wow.”
“Hey, I have to move on this to get those projects back to the employers who requested them. And, another benefit is we could celebrate your birthday while I’m there.”
Leslie laughed. “True, that would be wonderful.”
“Okay, it’s all set, then. I’ll get busy with alterations of Emma’s garments, and designing and creating Stella’s clothes. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Bye, honey.”
* * *
The next four days were jam-packed with preparations for the remaining photo shoots. During a phone conversation, Emma graciously agreed to do the photo shoot and was looking forward to it. Armed with Emma’s measurements, Jasmine altered the clothes she’d made for her Senior Seminar so they would fit her step-sister-in-law perfectly. Then she turned her focus to Stella’s designs. Marianne was thrilled that Jasmine wanted to include her daughter in the project and she knew five-year-old Stella would be excited as well.
Jasmine pulled back from her table. What relation would Stella be to her? She had to do the math. Her mom had married Hank, so he was her stepfather. Hank had a daughter, Marianne and a son, Jeremy. They would be her step-siblings. Jeremy was married to Emma, who was her step-sister-in-law, and Marianne’s daughter, Stella would be her step-niece.
Whew. Extended families got complicated. But all she had to do was drop the “step” on each of these people. She loved them all enough to consider them family, and they loved her too, and never failed to show it. That was all that mattered.
Dax called while she was drawing designs for Stella. “Hi … sweetie.” He said it like he was trying it on for size, this new affection-based nicknaming, seeing how it would roll off the tongue.
She wasn’t going to laugh at him outright, but it was funny, in a sweet sort of way. “Hi … darling.”
He laughed. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I like it. Let’s come up with sweet little nicknames we like. Um, baby?”
“Nah. Sweetheart?”
Jasmine shrugged. “It’s okay. Loverboy?”
“Not sure.”
“I don’t know. I’m coming up empty here.”
He made a tsking sound, then changed the subject. “What are you doing?”
“Working on designs for Stella. I’ve got a deadline now.” She told him about her plan to travel to Pawleys Island, armed with the altered garments for Emma, and newly designed garments for Stella
, and do their photoshoots on the beach. “So, I can get both of them in the same trip, and then my portfolio will be complete.”
“For the stills. You still have to do the videos, right?”
Jasmine exhaled a bunch of air. “Oh, my gosh. I totally forgot about the videos. Dang it! Why didn’t we do video of you when you were here?”
“I guess we both forgot about it.”
“Well, good excuse to see each other again. Want to hit the road?”
“But you’ll be going south.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Here’s an idea. Put all three of your models together in one video. We could do the video while we’re at the beach.”
An unbidden smile crept onto her face. “Did you say, we?”
“Sure.”
“You’d come all the way to Pawleys Island to help me with the video?”
“Of course. I mean, I want to see you. I’ve never been to the beach. You need to make a video with me in it. Why not kill three birds with one stone?”
Her heart lightened so much, she felt giddy. “If you were here I’d kiss you so hard, you wouldn’t know what hit you.”
“Hold that thought. I’ll look forward to it.”
They quickly put together plans. Jasmine would kick butt on Stella’s garments, Dax would drive to Pittsburgh, then together they’d drive to Pawleys, arriving in time for Leslie’s birthday. When she hung up, she got to work. Nothing like a deadline to force productivity.
Chapter Eleven
The car was packed, all the garments in their bags hanging in the back seat. She was just waiting for Dax. Her excitement at seeing him again was intense. Maybe absence did make the heart grow fonder, but ever since they’d moved into a dating status, her thoughts were consumed by him. When she was busy working, or when she was relaxing, her mind turned to him. What was he doing? How was he feeling? Was he thinking about her? Did he miss her? She yearned for a more normal relationship where they could actually see each other without all this intense effort. But meanwhile, she was determined to enjoy it as it was.
Work on that patience thing that her mom had talked about.
To pass time, she flipped open her laptop and accessed her social media. On Twitter, she posted a tweet about her upcoming trip to the beach and reposted a photo of the ocean behind the Old Gray Barn that she’d first posted a few months ago when she was there for Jeremy and Emma’s wedding.
On Facebook, she paged through her Newsfeed, seeing what her friends were up to. Another one of her classmates had found a job and was moving to California. She was happy for her, but urgently hoped that she’d have a job announcement to post, sooner rather than later.
As she paged through, she realized how much people were using Facebook now to spread messages for help to an extremely large audience. If a post went viral, it could reach hundreds of thousands, if not millions of people. Here was one about a lost child in Connecticut. Here was one from a teacher proving to her students how invasive the internet could be to their privacy, by how many hits the post would get. Here was one from a daughter: “If this post gets a million views, my father says he’ll quit smoking.”
Jasmine shook her head. She remembered fondly when Facebook consisted solely of her friends’ news. Now it was like a community bulletin board with ads and requests for help. Only, the community was the whole world.
Then it dawned on her. What if she used Facebook and Twitter to help her with the Phone Booth Baby search? She’d gone to the trouble of posting a sign in the phone booth itself. How many people would that reach? Ten? Fifty? A hundred? Compared to the international reach of social media. What’s the chance that her birth grandmother would see the post? Or at the very least, someone with information to share that would take her a step further in her stalled investigation.
She’d do it. What could it hurt? She wouldn’t give her cell phone number. She’d just ask anyone with knowledge to comment on the post, or send her a private message. Maybe it would generate leads. She wouldn’t have to follow up on them unless she wanted to.
Her mind made up, she pulled up the mini-poster she’d created, copied the wording and pasted it in a Facebook post. She made some minor revisions, added “Please Share” and released it to cyberspace. Then, she went to Twitter, and since it was restricted to so few characters, she tweeted a link to her Facebook post.
Done. If God wanted to lead someone to her, all she’d done was help Him along. God helps those who help themselves, wasn’t that a Bible verse? She wasn’t sure, but the philosophy was sound.
The doorbell rang and Jasmine screamed. She ran downstairs and there he was, on her doorstep. Her magnificent, heart-stopping boyfriend, here to pick her up for a couples’ trip to the beach. She jumped up and fortunately he was ready for her — he held out his arms and caught her, and lowering his head, kissed his greeting.
“You look great,” he murmured between breaths.
“You do, too.”
Finally he placed her on her feet.
“I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too. My first trip to a beach …”
“Your first ever?” she interrupted. “That’s a little hard to believe.”
He considered that, his lip curling in concentration. “When have you been to the beach, I mean, before your mother moved there?”
“Every year! We’d take a family vacation and every summer we’d pick a different beach. All the way down the coast, we hit beach towns in Maryland, Delaware, Virginia, North and South Carolina, and down into Florida. Every summer of my entire childhood, we spent looking for the world’s most perfect beaches. We …” Then she stopped, abruptly. How much of an idiot was she? “Oh Dax, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot that you didn’t have that …”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I am so inconsiderate. Of course you didn’t get to travel much as a kid. If at all. And since becoming an adult, you’ve been focused on school and work. I’m sorry.”
He gave a grim smile and took her hands in his own. “Seriously, it’s fine.”
“Have you ever gone on vacation? Ever?”
He shrugged. “Sort of? I remember a couple group outings to an amusement park. About a dozen kids in the foster system got to go, and I was picked a few times. Man, it was fun. A bunch of ten- or eleven-year-olds racing around the park from one ride to another. The counselors knew they couldn’t keep tabs on us so they just gave us hourly checkpoints. If we didn’t show up, we’d have to sit in the bus for an hour, so of course we made sure we were there. Those were fun days. Once we stayed in a hotel. Swam in a pool, ate in the restaurant. That was fun.” He grinned at her.
She reached up and put her hands on his cheeks. “Awww, you poor thing!”
But he took her hands and pulled them away. “No.” His voice was firm, intense. She’d never heard that tone from him before. “Don’t feel sorry for me. You asked me a question, I answered it. I don’t want your pity.”
Her eyes popped wider. “I’m sorry.”
He huffed a frustrated breath. “No, don’t apologize. I’m just trying to draw a line in the sand here. Don’t pity me because of my childhood. Don’t feel sorry for me or give me a different expectation because I didn’t have parents. That’s not helpful to me or anyone. I don’t want you to like me just because I’m different. I don’t want to be different.”
She could see what she’d done. She’d victimized him, she’d felt sorry for him. How could he be her boyfriend — her partner, her equal — if she did that? “But Dax, you are different from anyone I’ve ever met. And I’m not talking because of your childhood. I’m talking about now.”
The stone-tight tension in his face started to fade as he looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“You’re a good man. You’re thoughtful and considerate. You’d give the shirt off your back to someone in need. And you’re smart and wise. You have a great outlook on life, and a strong faith in God. These are all very attractive
qualities in you. I apologize for feeling sorry for you before. I won’t do it again. I promise.”
He gave her one firm nod, squared his shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Good.”
“But it does explain to me why you’ve never been to the beach. So, let’s call this trip to Pawleys Island your first beach vacation. We’ll make it great. You’ll of course stay beachfront, at my mom and Hank’s house, you’ll eat great meals either that my mom cooks, or we can eat in the awesome restaurant inside Tom and Marianne’s beachfront inn. Tom and Marianne,” she reminded him, “are Hank’s daughter and son-in-law. They own the Seaside Inn and it has a wonderful dining room where they cook three meals a day from scratch for their guests. We’ll walk the beach, we’ll swim … I hope you brought a swimsuit?”
He nodded.
“And since you’re just doing the video with me, you’ll have time to relax while I’m doing Emma’s and Stella’s photo shoots.”
“I can help you.”
“You enjoy the beach. I absolutely love the beach — any beach — but particularly Pawleys Island. It’s … it’s like a little slice of my own personal heaven. I’m the happiest there. It’s relaxing and it’s soothing, and even my problems seem less important when I’m there. I want you to discover that, too.”
“Well, if you put it that way, I’m game. I’m in a vacation frame of mind.”
They packed their stuff in her car, and he slid behind the wheel and they took off. It was about a five-hour drive, but since Dax had already driven five hours today getting to Pittsburgh from Ithaca, they didn’t plan to arrive until evening. That was all right. As far as Jasmine was concerned, her “working vacation” had started the minute he’d shown up on her doorstep.
They talked about everything. More stories from her childhood, more stories from his. They hit potentially taboo topics like politics and religion, and found that although they had some differences, their core beliefs were fundamentally similar. They talked about food and sports and hobbies and TV shows and books. Jasmine had never met a guy who was simultaneously immensely masculine, and incredibly easy to talk to. In her experience, the he-men she was generally attracted to physically, were quiet and reserved. She usually had to carry the ball of the conversation because they ran out of topics to converse on quickly. The guys she’d known who were fun and talkative and entertaining — she had no physical attraction to. They were either gay, or they were straight, yet slightly feminine.
Bridge to Fruition Page 12
