A House Divided

by Donna Hill

  “Boys! Heaven helps us. Not yet.” He chuckled. “So tell me.”

  As she told her husband about Lexi’s revelation and the motherly advice she had offered their daughter, she realized, even as her heart was breaking, that this was her life, the life she’d built with this man who worshipped the ground that their daughters walked on. She would do nothing to ever jeopardize that, no matter the cost to her.

  * * *

  After Rowan left for work and the girls were off to school, Kimberly made her decision and called Zoie. She sat in her bedroom with the journals and the photograph in front of her while she listened to the phone ring on the other end.

  When she heard Zoie’s voice, for a moment she froze and debated about hanging up. But the next phone call, because there would be one, would be no different.

  “Good morning. This is Kimberly Graham.”

  “Good morning. I don’t know if I was expecting to hear from you, to be honest.”

  “Not much of anything is what we expected, is it?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “I . . . read everything.”

  “And . . . do you believe me now?”

  “Funny, a part of me believed you when we met at the gala. I always felt . . . different,” she slowly confessed. “And I was closer to Claudia than my own mother, but I always attributed it to my mother being a cold and distant person and nothing more. Claudia and I used to joke about having eyes of the same color, but as a kid, I didn’t make much of it.” She sighed heavily. “I don’t know why my mother and father did what they did all those years ago, and maybe I never will. It was a different time, and we’ve all paid a price because of it. I’ve built a life, a good life with a man I love and children whom I adore beyond reason. I won’t lose that. I can’t.”

  “What are you telling me?”

  “I’m telling you that if you go ahead with exposing the past of my family and my connection to yours, I will use everything in my power to ruin you, your newspaper, and your family.”

  Zoie heaved a sigh of disappointment. “For some bizarre reason, I thought way in the back of my mind that you would find a way to rise above the debris your family caused and speak out about who they are and who you really are. I’d stupidly hoped that you might find a corner in your heart to care about your real mother, the woman who gave birth to you, the woman who spent her life believing that you were dead. You talk about family, you glorify family . . . that is your family. I am your family, too.”

  “You don’t understand,” Kimberly said softly. “I don’t expect you to.”

  “I understand more than you think. Thank you for calling.”

  Kimberly listened to the dead silence and slowly put down the phone. She stared out of the window.

  CHAPTER 30

  When Zoie got off the plane in New Orleans, she was surprised to actually feel happy to be back. As she drove through the familiar streets on her way from the airport, she was overcome by the bittersweetness of it all.

  The past couple of months had been life-altering on so many levels—from the loss of her grandmother to the finding of a half sister, the opening of long-closed doors between herself and her mother, and, most important, slowly coming to terms with what family really meant.

  Miranda’s wise words still resonated in her soul. She’d spent so many years being angry and hurt and lashing out that she never gave anyone a chance to love her or allow herself to fully love anyone in return. That was a huge void that hadn’t been filled.

  She’d thought a great deal about her grandmother on her flight home. In the beginning, when the will was read, the first thing she worried about was her job—her life and how she was going to be affected. Never once did she really bother to try to understand why her grandmother had written her will the way she did. But now she was slowly beginning to understand. The task was not to keep the business going. That was only a small part. What her grandmother really wanted was for Zoie to do what she’d been unable to do, and the only way that could happen was to force Zoie to stay, force her to do what she did best: search for answers.

  When she pulled up to the house and eased along the driveway, she noticed one of the packing company trucks parked along the side of the house. She parked, took her carry-on from the trunk, and went inside.

  The kitchen was bustling with activity. Her mother, Aunt Sage, and even Aunt Hyacinth were busy sorting the fruits and vegetables and packing them. What really surprised her was when Jackson walked in from the back door to announce that one more box of corn and a box of green peppers were needed for this shipment.

  Jackson stopped short when he saw Zoie. All eyes turned in her direction.

  “Welcome back,” Sage greeted. “Might as well just put that bag right on down and get to work. We behind schedule.”

  Rose smiled. “Welcome home.”

  “I always did like that Jackson fella,” Hyacinth said with a wide grin.

  “Hey, Zoie,” Jackson said softly.

  “Hey . . . everybody.” She cleared her throat and willed her heart to stop hammering her chest. She tore her gaze away from Jackson. “So what do you need me to do?”

  In no time, Zoie found herself fully entwined in the shenanigans of her family. While they worked, they tossed raucous stories back and forth about their uppity neighbors, local marital scandals, and just plain juicy gossip. Zoie could hardly believe the saucy language her upstanding, church-going aunts and mother used, but they were quick to beg baby Jesus’ forgiveness for the things that fell out of their mouths.

  As she looked around at the joy on the faces of her family while they worked, a new revelation hit her—this was why her grandmother had started her business. It wasn’t only to make money and serve the community; it was to build a bond between her daughters and now Zoie. She was a part of this intricate web that her grandmother had spun. In order for it to succeed, they all had to work together instead of against each other. And then there was Jackson. Somehow, Nana had managed to factor him into her plan as well.

  “The last of the boxes are stacked in the shed, ready for pickup tomorrow,” Jackson said, reentering the kitchen and wiping his forehead with a paper towel. He placed the clipboard on the kitchen counter.

  Aunt Sage poured glasses of sweet tea. She handed one to Jackson.

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “You always been a big help ’round here,” Sage said.

  “Sure have. We definitely make use of your muscle,” Rose added.

  Jackson finished off his sweet tea in three long swallows. He set down the glass. “Anytime. Glad to help.” He took a quick look around. “I gotta be going.”

  “Why don’t you stay for dinner?” Rose asked.

  “Thank you, but maybe some other time.” He snatched a quick look at Zoie. “Y’all have a good evening.” He headed for the door.

  Aunt Hyacinth kicked Zoie under the table, and she yelped. “Go walk that boy to the door, chile, ’fore he get away.”

  “What?”

  “You heard her,” Sage said.

  “Go,” her mother added.

  Zoie huffed, untied her apron, tossed it over the back of a chair, then hurried after Jackson. He was opening the door to his car by the time she got outside.

  “Jackson!”

  He stopped and slowly straightened as she approached. “Did I forget something?”

  “No.” She leaned on her right leg and stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “Um, thanks for all that back there.”

  “No need for thanks. I helped your grandmother and promised her I would help your aunts.” He started to open the door.

  “Wait.”

  “What is it, Zoie?” he said, sounding mildly frustrated. “You were pretty clear last time we spoke. So . . . what’s changed?”

  She paused a moment and then looked him right in the eyes. “I have.”

  He nodded. “Good. I’m glad to hear that. Look, I really have to go. Maybe we can talk another time. Not n
ow.” This time he opened the door, and Zoie had to take a step back to let him get in.

  Zoie watched the car until it reached the corner, signaled, and turned. She had some ridiculous hope that, like in a TV movie, he would come to his senses, stop the car, jump out, and run back to her. She turned and went back inside.

  Her aunts were gone from the kitchen, leaving her mother to clean up and get dinner started.

  “Can I help with anything?”

  “You can get this floor swept and take that bag of garbage out back for me.” She washed down the table and returned all the table items—shakers, napkin holder, and knife rack—to their rightful places.

  Zoie got the broom from the closet next to the door and began to sweep.

  “You gonna tell me what happened in New York?”

  Zoie looked up from her sweeping. “I’ve been trying to think of a way to tell you.”

  Rose’s lids lowered over her eyes. Her lips pinched. She took a breath and looked at her daughter. “Only way to tell me is just to tell me.” She pulled out a chair from under the table and sat down. “What’s she like? When is she going to come see me?”

  Zoie leaned on the broom for a moment. “I met her . . .” Slowly and with as much care as she could, she told her mother everything—from the moment she met Kimberly for the first time at the gala, to the meeting at her office, up to and including their final phone conversation. Her mother’s eyes continued to cloud over, but she didn’t shed a tear. She was stoic as she listened to this daughter talk about the daughter she never knew and maybe never would.

  “You said she has twins,” Rose said in a faraway voice.

  “Hmm-umm.”

  “What are they like?”

  Zoie smiled. “They’re twelve. Beautiful girls. Identical. They look more like their father.”

  “So she really was passing all these years. Always thought that was some mess that you read about. Never thought it would be something to happen in my own family.” She looked off. “I can’t blame her, though. It’s not a choice that she made. She didn’t know the difference.”

  “But she knows now. She knows the truth now.”

  Rose looked at her daughter with sad but accepting eyes. “We all have to live with the choices we make, Zoie. She will have to live with hers.”

  “It’s just not right.”

  “One of the millions of things that aren’t right with the world. But you can’t set yourself up to fix them. What’s important now is that you’re home. You’re here with me, and maybe we have a chance to fix some of the things that are wrong in the world, our world.” Her gentle smile lit her eyes with hope. She folded her hands together on top of the table. “When you went away to school in New York, it was like history repeating itself.” Her brows drew together. “Families torn apart—for different reasons, but torn apart nonetheless. I know I made it hard for you to stay. I held on so tight because I was terrified of losing another child. I held on so tight that you didn’t have any choice but to break free.” She leaned forward and implored Zoie with her eyes and the passion in her voice. “It wasn’t to control you or run your life, baby. I was scared. But my fear ran you off anyway. Then I resented you for going, leaving me. But you’re back now. We got a chance now.”

  “And Aunt Sage and Aunt Hyacinth resented you.”

  Rose nodded.

  “They thought you got rewarded with the great education and the good life in New York as payment for what you’d done.”

  “I lived with their scorn for years.” She blinked away fresh tears. “But when you came home, when you found the truth, a new world opened between me and my sisters. We haven’t talked, really talked to each other about how we feel, in years. We laugh now, tease each other, and reminisce without recrimination.”

  “I remember,” Zoie began slowly, “when I was little and Daddy was still here. There was always laughter in the house.”

  “Humph.” She smiled a sad smile. “You father had charm. I have to give him that. He had a way about him that made even the most mundane activity seem like a major celebratory event. When he left me, he took the laughter with him. He was the buffer between me and Sage and Hy. With him gone, the walls were down, and there was nothing to keep us from going at each other. Not even Mama.”

  “Why did he leave?”

  “Wanted something different than me, I suppose. Just one day said he couldn’t do this anymore. Packed a bag and walked out.”

  Zoie took a moment to let that sink in. In her mind her father’s leaving was “the great mystery.” When in fact he’d done what many men have done since the beginning of time—he simply walked out. “I think part of me was always looking for him,” Zoie said thoughtfully. “And at the same time, I was scared of finding him because he might leave me again.” She thought about her and Jackson, and how she worked so hard to push him away before he left on his own.

  Rose opened her arms. “Come on and help me get dinner together, girl. Let me see if you learned anything in New York.” She stood, and for the first time in longer than Zoie could remember, she stepped into her mother’s embrace.

  CHAPTER 31

  Jackson walked out onto his back deck and stretched out on the lounger. He hadn’t expected to see Zoie, and it had unsettled him more than he realized. It took all of his willpower to drive away when what he really wanted to do was pull her into his car, drive away, and keep going.

  Maybe he should have stayed to listen to what she had to say. But that would have only complicated things. He knew what he had to do in order to keep the development on track. He couldn’t risk allowing Zoie’s passion for her cause to outweigh his.

  Their Plan C was already in motion. Lennox had set up the accelerated schedule, and the whole crew was on board. He had a meeting in the morning with his banker to discuss refinancing his home if it came to that.

  His cell phone chirped. He picked it up to see a text from Lena.

  I’M OUT FRONT. CAN WE TALK?

  Lena? She was the last person he expected to hear from.

  COMING.

  He got up from the lounger and strode to the front of the house, while trying to imagine how this impromptu appearance was going to go down. He paused a moment, then pulled the door open.

  “Hey,” he greeted with an edge of hesitation.

  Lena stepped up onto the porch. “Hi.”

  Jackson stepped aside and held the door. “Come on in.”

  Lena walked passed him and stopped in the entryway as if this was her first time in his house.

  “I was out back.” Jackson came around her and led the way outside. “Can I get you anything? Something to drink?”

  “Um, water is fine.” She sat primly on the edge of a chair.

  Jackson’s brows flicked in surprise. Lena was always up for a cold brew or a glass of wine. He shrugged opened the cooler and took out a bottle of water and handed it to her.

  “Thanks.” She shook off the excess water that clung to the bottle, twisted off the top, and took a swallow.

  Jackson sat on the side of the lounge chair, facing her, with his arms resting on his thighs. His long fingers wrapped around a bottle of beer.

  “There’s no other way to put this, Jackson. I’m pregnant.”

  “Say what?” The bottle clattered to the ground and rolled under the table, spewing a trail of beer and foam in its wake. He held up his hand and angled his head to the side as he spoke. “You and me, we always had safe sex. It was our understanding.” He leaned forward and his gaze burned into her. “So . . . explain this to me.”

  Lena lifted her chin. “I don’t know how it happened other than the way all babies are conceived.”

  Jackson felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. He inhaled deeply, ran a hand across his face, and shut his eyes. “I . . . don’t believe this,” he muttered and pushed to his feet. He paced. “So how far along?” he asked with more calm than he felt.

  “Eight weeks.”

  He did some quick menta
l calculations and figured it must have happened the last time they were together before the breakup. He faced Lena, who looked like she would burst into tears if a strong wind blew. His heart softened.

  Jackson went to her and sat beside her. He put his arm around her and drew her close, resting his chin on her head. “We’ll get through this.”

  “I’m sorry, Jackson. I didn’t mean for this to happen. We had a plan. This wasn’t it.”

  He sputtered a laugh. “True.” His thoughts were in total disarray, and he didn’t want to say or commit to anything sparked by pure emotion. He needed time to think.

  “Look, um, I haven’t had dinner. Stay. We’ll eat, talk and try to figure some things out. Okay?”

  She swiped at her eyes and sniffed. “Okay.”

  * * *

  Lena moved around in his kitchen the way she’d always done—like she belonged there. Gone was the tentative woman of an hour earlier. She knew where everything was and what he liked.

  They worked easily and efficiently together, shelling and seasoning jumbo shrimp and slicing tomatoes and cucumbers for the salad.

  While they worked, neither of them talked about the elephant in the room. Instead, they idly chatted about the new restaurant in town, his sister’s new job with the museum, movies, and news headlines. It was almost like it used to be—easy and worry free—but it wasn’t. They’d crossed a threshold into a new reality.

  Lena took the bowl of shrimp out back while Jackson prepared the grill.

  “Grill should be hot enough in a few minutes,” Jackson said as he closed the lid.

  “Jackson.” Lena put the bowl on the table. She walked up next to him and placed her hand on his forearm. “I know all this . . . is a shock. It was to me, too.” She paused when he faced her. “I want you to know that I don’t expect you to . . . marry me. It’s not why I told you. I have no problem doing this on my own. I have a great job, and excellent benefits. Family, friends.” She offered a tight smile.