“Yes. I’m sorry for taking the call over your head that way, but we all try and talk to James when he calls. He’s down South right now with a family emergency, but he flies back from time to time to handle business here. Dixon’s Hair Affair has a Facebook page, and he’s been updating photos of the clients he’s been servicing there. Shandy updates photos here, so he thought it would be nice to showcase work being done in Georgia, too.”
“I have relatives in Georgia. Exactly where is he?”
“He’s in Augusta. He’s at a salon called Shear Heaven.”
“Hmmm, I’ll look him up the next time I’m down there. Unless he gets back here, first.”
“You should. He’s a really nice guy.”
“Turn it up!” yelled a client, pointing to the television.
The breaking news flooded the screen on WTHR News 13. Everyone’s eyes were glued to the unfolding scene. Bruce Kopp, poised at the news desk, followed the developing story.
“Look at ’em go!” said one client.
“Like they can outrun the police. And on the highway to boot!” said another patron.
“Hold your head still,” said Penny to Tawatha. Everyone’s attention was drawn to the screen.
“The driver has eluded officers for several miles now,” reported Kopp.
The women watched in horror and amazement as a blue Nissan Altima weaved in and out traffic, passing cars at rapid speed. The aerial view of the scene from Chopper 13 mesmerized everyone. Cars drifted to the side of the road to allow the offender and the cops space to continue their journey.
“I bet it’s some raunchy juveniles in a stolen car,” said an older woman. “Kids don’t value freedom worth nothing these days.”
“Oh!” The collective gasp came from everyone in the shop as the car hit a guardrail and spun around twice, landing in the opposite direction of the chase. The cops stopped as well. One police officer exited his vehicle, gun drawn, and raced toward the vehicle. He opened the door, and a leg propped out from the driver’s side. A young woman staggered from the car. She held her hands in surrender, tottering as if drunk.
Ignoring Penny’s admonishment, Tawatha leaned forward. A grounds crew arrived on the scene, and the cops seemed to give instructions to the woman, obviously in a drug-induced haze. Her disheveled appearance couldn’t conceal her identity. Tawatha knew Lasheera anywhere. The police officers yanked her hands behind her back, handcuffed her, and grazed her head as they put her in back of the cruiser.
A sick satisfaction overtook Tawatha as she said to no one in particular, “Pot, meet Kettle.”
Chapter 27
Aunjanue arrived home just after the CPS van parked in the driveway. She watched a man and woman get out of the van and knock on the front door. Frightened, she ran to them. Lake opened the door, anger etching his face.
“Sir, we are here from Child Protective Services to pick up Zion Anderson.” They gave Lake a court order drawn up earlier in the day. “Based on an anonymous hotline tip, reports from Zion’s school, and the unfolding news story, Zion is in an unsafe environment.”
“Who called the hotline?” Lake asked. His fury rose with each second. He did a visual sweep of the neighborhood and spotted Marvin’s car across the street.
“May we come in, sir? We have to do a home inspection and discuss the matter with you.”
Lake moved aside to let them in. Zion sat in the den area watching the unfolding news story about his mother. He looked up to see the uniformed man and woman enter the house, followed by Aunjanue. He ran to Aunjanue.
“Mom wrecked the car. It’s on the news,” said Zion, pointing to the story.
“Come with me a minute, Zion. Let’s go to your room while Uncle Lake chats with the man and woman here, okay?” Aunjanue took his hand and headed toward his room. Zion was twelve, but Lasheera accused her of babying him too much. Maybe she did. He’d grown taller and was almost her height, but he was her little brother who needed protection. She’d seen this scene unfold when Tawatha neglected her and her siblings, kept an unkempt apartment, and disappeared for days on end with men she hardly knew. CPS workers took them away for a while to live with Roberta, then returned them when Tawatha promised to straighten up her act. She would explain the routine to Zion to alleviate his fears. Given Lasheera’s background, she was sure Zion knew the custom. Lake stood back as the workers inspected the house. He’d gone on a cleaning spree earlier in the day, so incensed Lasheera left Zion by himself again. Had he not stopped by the house to pick up a few items to donate to Goodwill, Zion would have been home alone when CPS arrived. What’s going on with ’Sheer?
The workers scoured the rooms, noting the cleanliness of the place. They checked the refrigerator for food and inspected the home’s overall appearance. They joined Lake in the den area, where he stared into the backyard.
“Mr. Carvin, were you aware of a complaint lodged against your wife from a local pharmacy?”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“It appears your wife became indignant with a pharmacy tech at Walgreens after she wouldn’t refill an Ambien prescription.”
“My wife doesn’t take Ambien.”
“Apparently, she does. She demanded the prescription be refilled, even after it was discovered your wife had the wrong prescription.”
Lake recalled articles he’d read about Ambien. He even remembered Roberta taking them for a short time and how she abruptly stopped the meds because they made her jittery and disoriented. After all ’Sheer has been through with drugs, didn’t she have sense enough not to touch prescription drugs?
“So, you’re saying in addition to the fact my wife is sitting in jail right now, she’s also doing drugs?”
The male worker picked up the conversation. “A few days ago, your wife entered Walgreens with an empty bottle. She’d tried to scratch out the name on the bottle, but of course, prescriptions are identified by Rx numbers. When she couldn’t produce proper identification, an argument unfolded in front of Zion and several customers. The incident triggered the first round of allegations.”
“First round?”
“Mr. Carvin, are you aware your wife missed a visitation court date with Mr. Marvin Anderson,” the woman checked her notes, “three weeks ago on October 29th? This set a bench warrant for her arrest in motion. I’m surprised she wasn’t stopped before now. Mr. Anderson stopped by our office on the 30th to discuss the matter with us. He said he came by the house to see if things were okay, and she wouldn’t answer the door. He said her car was here, but she never came downstairs. He said Zion came to the window wearing shorts, a T-shirt, and a mismatched pair of sneakers. Zion wouldn’t let him; he also refused to say where his mother was at the time.”
Lake rubbed his head and clutched the side of the sofa. He wasn’t ready for the drama, lies, and deceit being hurled at him at once. There was no need to argue facts. He leaned forward.
“What steps do I need to take to rectify the situation?”
“We will remove Zion from the home temporarily. He will live with Mr. Anderson for a short time until our investigation continues.”
“He has to leave right now? Can’t you let him stay until after Thanksgiving? It’s only two days away. Please let him stay until then.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Carvin, but he has to come with us now.”
Lake walked up the stairs to Zion’s room. When he opened the door, he fought to keep his composure as he watched Aunjanue and Zion packing a small suitcase.
“Onnie, why are you packing his things?”
“I’ve been through this before. It’s temporary. Zion will be back with us in no time, Uncle Lake,” she said. She met his eyes, hoping he’d mimic the sham.
“You’ll get to spend a few days with your father and come back, okay?”
“I thought you said his wife died. He can’t cook, and he was hardly ever there when I visited. Do I have to go? And when will Mom get out of jail? This is dumb!” Zion kicked the plastic bucket of basket
balls in the floor. He picked up a ball and tossed it in the elevated goal in the bedroom.
Aunjanue patted a space on Zion’s bed. He joined her.
“Auntie ’Sheer is a little sick right now, so while you’re gone, we’re gonna help her get better.”
“She’s doing drugs again, isn’t she?”
“Zion, who said that about Lasheera?” asked Lake.
“I remember what things used to be like when I was younger. Grandma and my stepmom said Mom was a worthless crackhead and a homewrecker. Since Onnie said she’s sick, I want to know if she’s doing drugs again. She cursed out the lady in the drugstore real bad the other day. She’s not herself anymore.”
“Your mom isn’t doing drugs, Zion,” said Lake.
“She’s upset with everything going on with my mother. Remember I told you my mom is out of jail? Well, Auntie ’Sheer doesn’t want her to harm us. That’s why she’s been sleepy and distant.”
Zion took into account Aunjanue’s words. She hadn’t lied to him in the past, and he trusted her completely.
“I don’t want to go to my dad’s.”
“I bet you all will have a good Thanksgiving meal at Marvin’s mother’s house. You’ll probably get to see your other relatives, too.” “But I was supposed to play games with Hakeem. His mom said she was getting us Black Friday video games.”
“I’ll get you two games when you come back. I promise,” said Aunjanue. The conversation weighed on her as she fought back tears.
“I’ll do this, but you better get my games,” said Zion.
He got up and packed two more pairs of shoes.
Lake called Aunjanue outside the bedroom door. “Onnie, will you stay with Zion until I go back downstairs with CPS?”
She nodded. “He just packed shirts and pants. I’ll make sure he has everything else packed.”
Lake tromped down the stairs in disbelief. He wondered how things had spiraled out of control so quickly. One minute, they were a happy foursome; now they were strangers with a teenager holding them together. The doorbell rang as he reached the bottom step. He answered it, relieved to see Caleb and Stephanie.
“We came as soon as we saw the broadcast. Is there anything we can do?” Caleb asked.
Lake nodded his head toward the den area. Stephanie glanced in the den area, then the van.
“I’m in the middle of an issue right now. Please have a seat in the living room.”
Caleb took Stephanie’s hand as she wobbled toward the living room. She propped her swollen feet on the ottoman. She counted down the days when the baby would arrive.
“Babes, what do you think is going on here?” she asked.
“Whatever it is, it can’t be good with CPS involved,” said Caleb.
As they waited for Lake to wrap up his business, Caleb rubbed Stephanie’s feet.
Lake rejoined the caseworkers. “We’re making sure his suitcase is ready. Are you sure he’ll be back soon?”
“This is a mere formality. Depending on the investigation, he may be back in a week, or as long as a month or more.”
Aunjanue and Zion appeared in the den area. Zion puffed his chest in false bravado.
“Zion, your father is waiting outside. He will follow us to our office, and after signing paperwork, you’ll go home with him,” said the male caseworker.
Zion hugged Aunjanue and Lake. Aunjanue kept his suitcase with her as she lifted the Pullman handle. As she rolled his suitcase near the front door, she saw Caleb and Stephanie in the living room.
“Mr. Wilson, what are you and Ms. Stephanie doing here?”
“We came after we saw the news.”
She gave an appreciative head bow and continued outside with Zion. Everyone filed outside toward the van. By this time, the neighbors had gathered in their respective yards. Their dismal faces spoke volumes. Even Belinda Rosewood kept her distance, her eyes affixed on Zion. The male caseworker opened the door for Zion.
“I got it!” Zion slammed the door. He lowered the window for Aunjanue.
“You’ll be back soon, okay?”
“Coco Soul?” asked Zion.
Aunjanue obliged him with Coco Soul, the handshake they created after she joined the family. The caseworkers and neighbors watched them perform their intricate routine, starting with a scissor move and ending with two fist pounds. She turned away from him and ran inside. Stephanie waddled behind her as she held her stomach.
When they drove away, Marvin trailed the van and gave Lake a sneer as they turned from the subdivision.
“Lake, what’s going on?”
“Caleb, I don’t know. Man, I…”
“Listen, I’ll get Stephanie to take Aunjanue to our house, and we can get together to make arrangements to get Lasheera out of jail.”
Lake looked at his friend. “I’m not sure that I want to get her out.”
Chapter 28
“It feels like old times,” said Aruba to James.
“Is that good or bad?”
“We’ll know when everyone arrives in an hour.” She pulled a third pan of cornbread dressing from the oven and assembled it next to the other pitch-in items dropped off earlier in the day by relatives who had to work.
The Stanton Thanksgiving tradition, a rotation ritual amongst Lance’s siblings, was to take place at Lance’s this year. Because of Aruba’s suicide attempt, Darnella wanted to do a quiet dinner with their immediate family. Lance favored the tradition instead. This year Darnella and Lance would provide the meats and cornbread dressing, and the guests would bring sides, desserts, drinks, and ice.
“James, are all the tables ready for the children?” Aruba asked.
“Ready and dressed. I bought enough paper plates, cups, and cutlery to feed an army,” he said, holding up the turkey-decorated youth plates.
“Those are adorable.”
“Oh, I set the trash cans up in the room as well. Jerry has pick-up duty. He’ll supervise the younger children and make sure they don’t waste anything.”
Aruba followed James to the den area. Hours ago, he transformed the sitting area into a kiddie oasis complete with small tables, orange and brown tablecloths, and turkey centerpieces. The plates matched the décor. At least twenty children, ranging in ages from five to twelve, would sit near the dining room and eavesdrop on adult conversation as they did each year.
“I left more cups in my SUV. I’ll be right back,” said James.
He kissed Aruba’s cheek; she rubbed his back and waited for him to leave. Guilt prevented her from returning his affection. She still loved him, but couldn’t shake the thought that the last few months were a dream. Maybe I’m punishing myself too much. Would James be here if he didn’t care? James not only stepped up to the plate, but he owned it. She felt a sense of pride as she watched him conduct business from his home in Augusta. The man she believed in when she first married had come full circle, and it suited him. Still, a niggling voice convinced her at any moment, he might throw up the past in her face and remind her she married another man.
James flipped his trunk, gathered the bag of cups, and sat down in back of his truck. He’d avoided this moment for two months, but he couldn’t anymore. He’d gotten so caught up in helping Aruba, working at Shear Heaven, and monitoring multi-state affairs he’d skirted his longing inside. He made sure he was alone before powering up his iPhone. He had a few text messages from Shandy, Isaak, and Mitch. He’d attend to those later. He opened his Indy Beauty King email address and arranged all of Issak’s messages. He scrolled down to Issak’s message from two months ago marked urgent. He counted to ten and read Isaak’s message. The file contained two attachments. He took a few deep breaths, then opened the first attachment. He cried at the sight of her. Save a few shades, she and Jeremiah were undeniably siblings. Isaak, thorough with his investigation, said his daughter lived with a good family in Zionsville, Indiana. She attended private school, an outpouring of her adopted executive father and upper-level management mother’s incomes. No long
er Jameshia, she was now Hannah Reese. A straight-A student, she enjoyed hiking, arts and crafts, and bike riding. She loved to sing, act, and wanted to have a little brother someday. James wanted to see her, hug her, and if nothing more, hear the cadence of her voice.
“Dad, Mom said to bring the cups in. She’s thirsty and doesn’t want to wash any dishes before dinner,” Jeremiah shouted from the back door.
“I’ll be inside in a minute,” said James.
He kept the message marked new, and wondered how Aruba would feel about having a daughter.
Chapter 29
Aruba greeted the guests who arrived at two p.m., with Kinsey leading the way. Her other aunts, Mayella and Darshelle, followed closely behind. Her father’s sisters were an interesting brood. Kinsey, the sassy one, balanced her famous toasted coconut cake in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. Her faux fur color of choice this year was black. She air-kissed Aruba on both sides and continued to the kitchen. Thrice divorced, she loved to shop and watch the world on her massive wraparound porch while drinking scotch or gin. Mayella, the quiet one, quoted scriptures and kept to herself. She shrouded herself in plain dresses, opaque stockings, and polished loafers. Retired six years from the school system as a Home Economics teacher, she spent time in her garden and ministering to the community youth. Lance said she had separation anxiety from teaching because her conversations morphed into cooking and housekeeping tips. Mayella carried a sterilized pickle jar filled with ambrosia she immediately placed in the refrigerator. Darshelle. Well, she was…the different sister. Dressed in her customary overalls, plaid chambray shirt, and spit-shined midnight blue cowboy boots, she came empty-handed, patting her shirt pocket for Virginia Slims and a lighter. She didn’t do cooking, kids. men, or working for others. She ran a twenty-five acre farm in Warren County and only fellowshipped with the family during Thanksgiving and Christmas. Standing at six feet three inches, she intimidated men and women alike with her gruff voice and silky black hair, parted down the center and always braided in two large plaits that dusted her shoulders. She brushed past Aruba without acknowledgement and stood with her sisters.
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