Keeping Jahleel (Loving All Wrong #1.5)

by S. Ann Cole

  I wore an ankle-length, sleeveless white dress that Jahleel had bought specifically for this occasion. My hair a riot of stubborn curls around my face as usual. Conservativeness appeased his parents, he’d told me, even though he was casual in white jeans, white long-sleeved thermal tee, and white Jordan sandals. The early morning sun bounced off the inconsistent waves of his hair, and his now clean-shaved face seemed to glow somehow. Was that glow happiness?

  He stopped at a yacht I estimated to be around a hundred feet, with KINGSTON slapped in bold letters on the side. Turning to us, he bent to lift up Claire in his arms, kissed her on the cheek, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my lips.

  “Greatest commandment?”

  My eyes went heavenward.

  While we got dressed this morning, he’d briefed me on some of the basic Christian laws that his parents may or may not ask to test me, telling me it was imperative that all people, sinner or non-sinner, knew the greatest commanded of all. He’d taught me some other stuff about being fallen from grace and all that, but if I claimed to remember any of it, I’d be lying.

  However, I did remember the greatest commandment, since it was so “imperative.” “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, and soul. And the second, love your neighbor as yourself.”

  “Guess we’re ready, then,” he said, nodding in approval, looking more like a couth, urbane man and less of the pronouns-and-”ing”-eating rebel we both knew he was. “As I said, you don’t have to worry about my parents. They’re perfect. So annoyingly perfect you’ll be begging for some antagonism.”

  Felicity pulled my lips in a smile as I leaned in for a better, longer kiss. He took it as I gave it. I loved him so.

  Apparently bored with our tongue-locking, Claire rubbed her eyes and fussed. “Daddy, when are we going out on the water like you said?”

  Jahleel chuckled and broke away, flicking one of Claire’s pigtails. “Now, bad girl.”

  Turning back to the yacht, he carefully jumped down on the boat with Claire on his side. Once safely there, he lowered Claire down beside him and twisted around to help me down, but I was already leaping on my own.

  He scowled at me when I landed, and I flashed him a chuffed grin and flipped my hair. “I’m a ‘badass,’ remember?”

  “You could’ve hurt your ankles, Sassy,” he worried, wrapping one long arm around my waist and clasping Claire’s hand with the other as we entered the boat.

  “Awww,” I teased, laughing. “You’re worried about my ankles.”

  Claire broke free just then and bolted off into the opulently designed yacht, screaming, “Kwissy!”

  She spoke so perfectly well, but still mispronounced people’s names. Kids were unfathomable.

  Ahead of us in the belly of the boat, Krissy was crouched down with her arms open wide, and Claire ran smacking right into her, blabbing on about a whole jumble of things.

  Sitting at a dinner table on the left of the room were two famous faces of Christianity, Mr. and Mrs. Kingston, along with a way-too-pretty man I knew to be Jahleel’s adopted brother, Trey.

  They all stared in our direction, and Jahleel tightened his arm around my waist to remind me he was right there.

  This was where I should smile and say my greetings to everyone, but I was too distracted by what was on Krissy’s head. She was sporting one of the ‘JK’s Babe’ ball-caps the fans were wearing outside the club the night before.

  Was she doing this to exacerbate my psyche, or to make fun of Jahleel? No idea, but either way, I didn’t like her wearing that hat, knowing he’d chosen her over me before. For all I knew, this was to rub it in my face, telling me she was JK’s Babe.

  As if realizing where my thoughts were, Jahleel squeezed his fingers into my waist and prompted my feet into action, propelling me over to his parents.

  “Mom, Dad,” he said when we reached up to them. “You wanted to meet her, so here she is. Saskia Day. My fiancée.”

  Too-Pretty Trey snorted, and the father shot him a look of reproof.

  “What?” Trey laughed bitterly. “The word fiancée just sounds awfully funny coming from this man’s mouth. Don’t you think?”

  Too-Pretty Trey was, well, way too pretty. He had healthy, long blond hair which was parted in the center and flowed down the sides of his face, going far beyond shoulders. His skin and complexion were unbelievably unblemished, not even a freckle. But he needed more flesh on his bones. He wasn’t hot or fierce or anything like that, just ridiculously pretty for a man.

  Jahleel ignored his brother’s remark.

  To move on from the one-sided bicker, I stuck my hand out to the father. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kingston.”

  Mr. Kingston looked at my hand, his gold gaze traveling up the length of my arm, taking in the myriads of tattoos there. He was an older version of Jahleel. Exact eyes, hair, and bone structure. Jahleel stole his looks right from his dad.

  When he just stared at my ink, my neck burned with embarrassment. He didn’t like me. Nor my tattoos. He probably thought I was a rebel or a spoiled super star who did drugs and made orgy sex tapes.

  As I lowered my rejected hand, he stood up, towering over me with his impressive height, and suddenly hauled me in for a bear hug.

  “Child, we don’t shake hands in this family. We hug. Tight.” Then he kissed me on both cheeks. “Nice to finally meet you, Saskia. The one who was strong enough to take my stubborn boy down. This is one prayer answered, praises be to God. My next prayer is to get him to be a part of our ministry.”

  A smile was all I gave him, as I had no idea what to say to that.

  The mum, a modest beauty with brown shoulder length-hair and brown eyes, the perfect complement to her husband, stood up too and enveloped me into a tight hug, whispering softly in my ear, “Thank you. So much.”

  Breaking the embrace, she pulled me off to side, Jahleel watching us with a curious frown.

  “That boy,” Mrs. Kingston said, indicating her son, “I love him. And all I’ve ever wanted was for him to be happy. But every time I looked into his eyes, all I ever saw was worry, confusion, lost, rebellion, and stubbornness. And I’ve prayed and prayed and prayed so fervently for him.

  “Since you, all those things been eradicated from his eyes. He’s no longer worried or confused or lost. He no longer has a reason to rebel and be stubborn. Because it seems he’s found his answer to all his questions. You. And now he’s glowing. And that…that gives me and his father so much joy, more than he’ll ever know. So, thank you. And please, keep him in this place that he is. Keep him. Don’t let him go. He’s a good son. And I’m sure he’ll be a good husband.”

  By the time she was done talking, her eyes were watering, and I was at a loss for words.

  “I love your son. Very much,” I told her, swallowing.

  Sniffling, she nodded appreciatively, then mumbled an “excuse me” and tottered off.

  “Everything okay with her?” Jahleel asked me when I got back to where he and his father were talking in mumbles.

  “I guess so.”

  “Happy tears, I’m sure,” the father filled in, giving me an older, friendlier version of Jahleel’s crooked smile.

  At the feel of my dress being tugged, I glanced down and found Claire reaching her arms up to me, bouncing. I stooped down and lifted her up, shifting her to my side, and she rest her head down on my shoulder, twirling one of my curls around her finger. Just like her father would.

  Jahleel studied us with a frown.

  Father Kingston grinned.

  Too-Pretty Trey rolled his eyes.

  Then Krissy materialized next to Jahleel, tugging on the visor of her ball-cap and grinning up at Jahleel.

  Shaking his head, Jahleel leaned down and kissed her nose, then snagged the cap off her head, turned and put it on Claire’s head.

  “You’re my babe,” he told Claire with a conspiratorial wink.

  If I said that didn’t sting a little, I’d be lying. Plus the loo
k Krissy gave me didn’t help. She seemed to be avoiding me at all cost, noticeably giving me a wide berth.

  “Hey, dude!” she protested. “I paid eight-five bucks for that hat. So either you gimme my hat back, or pay for it. And for you, it’s ninety-five.”

  “Eighty-five bucks?” Jahleel exclaimed. “You gotta be kiddin’ me.”

  Krissy shrugged. “Yeah. And they’re selling like crazy. Every chick wants to be ‘JK’s Babe’ it seems.”

  Jahleel tipped his chin to Too-Pretty Trey, asking, “You the one selling these? Word’s that some supposed brother of mine is selling them on Ebay.”

  Too-Pretty Trey blinked at Jahleel, and for a moment it looked as if he’d stopped breathing. His lips parted, but nothing came out.

  Krissy and Mr. Kingston stared at Jahleel with their mouths hanging open.

  I had absolutely no clue what was happening. Why everyone seemed so shocked. I felt Mrs. Kingston sidle up next to me.

  Too-Pretty Trey closed his mouth, then opened it again, then cleared his throat, finally answering, “Of course not. I’m a man of God; I have no time for such frivolousness.”

  Jahleel reached over to the fruit basket on the table and plucked up a handful of grapes, popping one into his mouth. “Well, you might as well have been the one behind it. That schmuck’s making a killin’ at eighty-five bucks a cap.”

  Schmuck? Since when did this bloke use words like schmuck? Ah, his parents were here. The mouth filter was on.

  Sitting up straighter in his seat, looking eager to converse with his brother, Too-Pretty Trey put in, “You can find and sue whoever it is, you know. This is illegal.”

  Popping another grape in his mouth, Jahleel shrugged. “If I cared, yeah, I probably would. But for all I know, the person behind this has a family member suffering from some terminable illness and they need the cash. And if my name can help them make a few quick bucks, I don’t really care.”

  He turned and tried to take the cap off Claire’s head, but she squealed in protest and clung to it. “No, Daddy! I’m you’re babe, remember?”

  We all laughed at this while Jahleel left the cap on and told her, “Sure, bad girl.”

  Retrieving his wallet from his back pocket, he withdrew a hundred dollar bill and passed it to Krissy. “Fifty bucks. No way am I payin’ ninety-five bucks for that.”

  Krissy snatched the bill from him, stretching it between her fingers. “It doesn’t really matter, hot stuff. Because the change is mine, too.”

  “You just got married to a billionaire and you’re still tryna rip me off?”

  “Every dollar counts,” she sang, waving the bill in his face before stuffing it in her pocket.

  “Where’s your mogul anyway?”

  His question came easily, with no hint of underlying jealousy, nothing like he was still in lust with her. And that gave me renewed assurance. What he’d felt for Krissy was now a thing of the past. I was his future.

  I met his parents, they liked me, and I was fucking delirious with happiness. Everything was going to be alright. Bob Marley said so.

  “He’s in Korea,” Krissy replied. “He said he won’t able to make it today…”

  No longer threatened, I blocked out their conversation and turned to Mrs. Kingston, who was smiling from ear to ear as she stared at her son.

  “What was all that about with Trey?” I pried.

  Without taking her glossy eyes off Jahleel, she replied, “Since he was eleven, he has never spoken a single word to Trey. He fully excluded Trey from his life and pretended he didn’t exist. Until now…”

  “Oh,” was all I could think to say.

  Shifting her gaze to me now, she whispered, “Like I said, thank you.”

  This woman thought I saved her son, when in fact, he was the one who saved me. From death.

  If she only knew.

  A couple of hours later, I was more relaxed than I’ve been in a long while. Everyone was getting along so well that the breakfast cruise turned in to lunch cruise also.

  Well, everyone except Krissy, of course. She made the effort to steer clear of me without making their parents any wiser. Not a word to me.

  Fine by me. Didn’t faze me at all. As long as we were both clear on who Jahleel belonged to. Besides, I was sure she wouldn’t want her parents to know of the incestuous affair that went down with them.

  Jahleel’s parents were indeed the nicest people I’d ever met. One would expect them to be judgmental and uppity, but they weren’t. They just accepted me as I was. And the conversations, surprisingly, never once steered to religion. They were simply ordinary people who talked and laughed about ordinary things. No Jesus-died-on-the-cross or repent-before-it’s-too-late conversations at all.

  The cruise had simmered down to a calm ease, and we were all replete and torpid from the copious amount of food we’d eaten. Claire was fast asleep on my lap, and Jahleel was in a deep conversation with his brother whom he reportedly hadn’t spoken to since he was eleven. I jotted down a mental reminder to ask him about that.

  “Why don’t you go set her down in one of the rooms?” Mrs. Kingston suggested, pointing to Claire.

  “That is actually a great idea,” I said, laughing. “Because my arms killing me. She’s a lot heavier than she looks.”

  “Oh, tell me about,” Mr. Kingston pitches in. “And just she loves to nag at people to lift her up.”

  Smiling, I peered down at her and gently brushed away a wisp of her brown hair that escaped her loose pigtails, hanging down the side of her face. Her long lashes whispered against her cheek, her little chest rising and falling as she breathed a tad laboriously with a slight wheeze.

  I’d learned from her father that she was troubled with asthma, and that her harshest attack was when he’d rushed to the hospital the night we were out in the gazebo.

  Her hair was as rich, healthy, and perfect as Jahleel’s, and not a single feature on her face wasn’t from him.

  I think I was falling in love with her.

  Jahleel once told me he wanted our daughter to look like me. But I sent a little invocation up to God that our daughter, like Claire here, would be the spitting image of him. Our sons, too.

  In the looks department, he won by a mighty long shot.

  My fiancé was a fucking fireman. Not a fireman who outs fire. But a flaming fireman who was on fire.

  Realizing I’d gotten carried away with my thoughts mid-conversation with the Kingstons while staring down at Claire, I glanced up and found Mr. and Mrs. Kingston watching me watch Claire.

  Mumbling an “excuse me,” I stood up awkwardly with Claire and went down to the lower deck to find a room.

  Navigating into the first bedroom in sight, I relieved myself of the weighty little girl, setting her down on the narrow bed inside.

  Claire mumbled something about wanting to swing the jungle gym with Brian—whoever that was—as she rolled over and curled up in fetus form, her thumb going straight into her mouth.

  I smiled big at that, because her thumb sucking reminded me of my sister, Timberly, when she was younger.

  Yep, I was definitely falling in love with her. But her mother despised me.

  Eh, who cares, right?

  As I toed off my sandals and made to lay down beside Claire to steal a catnap before going back outside, Krissy came into the room, making an effort to close the door without a sound.

  What now?

  This girl has caused me much misery, and if she came in here to push me further, it was going to get ugly, I swear to God, because I wasn’t running this time.

  As Bitchy Sassy opened her mouth, Krissy’s hands shot up as she said, “I just wanna talk to you, okay?”

  Her voice was hushed. Either she didn’t want to wake Claire or she didn’t want the others to hear us.

  Arms folding across my chest, I waited. Attitude in effect. Ready to put up a fight. Her and her best friend has caused enough damage already.

  “The reason why I haven’t said anythin
g to you since you came is because JK warned me to steer clear of you. He was serious. And he’s rarely that threatening with me. So I avoided you.”

  “Have you?” I asked sardonically. “You’re here in front me, aren’t you?”

  “That’s because I think this is stupid and juvenile!” she hissed. “You’re getting married to my brother—which, by the way, means you’re gonna be my sister—and I’m not supposed to talk to you? You’re grown. I’m grown. I’m not gonna dance around you all the time like we’re flipping sophomores.”

  “I’m getting married to your ink brother,” I reminded her. “We’ll never be bloody sisters. You’re a manipulative and selfish bitch. Just like you knew exactly what you were doing when you wore that ball cap.”

  She snorted. “I wore that hat to screw with JK. I don’t know if you’ve realized it—maybe because you’re already infamous—but JK’s one of the most famous faces right now, and I’m fucking proud of him. I’ve always been. That ball cap had absolutely nothing to do with you. Nothing.”

  Denying me the chance to retort, she went on, “I know what I did that night was wrong and selfish of me. I didn’t consider the ripple effects it would’ve caused. And in the end, I hurt him, you, the man I love more than anything, and myself. I’m sorry for all of it, and if you can’t forgive me and forget it, that’s your bad shit. In case you didn’t know, I loved him first. He didn’t love me back.

  “He treated me like his naive kid sister. And by the time he started loving me, it was too late. I was loving someone else, my husband. And I still love JK, with every part of me. But I love my husband more. So I chose my husband.

  “It’s over and done with, the past is the past and it can never be undone. You have him now and he’s head over heels in love with you. I know him better than anyone, and trust me, the love he has for you right now far surpasses whatever bullshit love he ever thought he had for me. He never would’ve loved me this much. His love for me was obligatory. You, he loves you because he can’t fucking help it.