“Here,” Georgia said, offering Jacey the steaming cup. “Let’s see if this sleepytime tea is a marketing ploy or the real thing.”
“That sounds great,” Jacey said.
Jacey was still shaken by the dream, but she wasn’t afraid this time. She wasn’t frantic, which was new. Usually when she remembered something or had a nightmare about the flood, it frightened her and she tried to stop the memory. Tonight she was filled with curiosity for the first time since the accident. Instead of pushing the thoughts away, she embraced them. “I want to find the family,” Jacey said. “I want to see them.”
Georgia snapped her head around. She’d known this moment was coming. Jacey had never mentioned wanting to see the mother or the children after the flood. Georgia figured it was her mind protecting her again, or maybe the doctors and nurses had satisfied Jacey’s curiosity. Part of that was true. Georgia knew that deep down, Jacey knew something tragic had happened—but her subconscious was keeping her from pursuing the answers to her questions.
“Did you hear me?” Jacey asked.
“I did hear you,” Georgia said. “We’ll see what we can do.” Georgia made a mental note to go straight to Jacey’s neurologist’s office as soon as she got to work in a few hours to see what he thought about this new development. She liked Dr. Plauche. He was always very forthcoming and helpful when she asked questions about Jacey, while being careful at the same time to guard doctor/patient privacy.
Jacey sipped from her cup of tea. “Where should I start?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I feel different tonight, Georgie,” Jacey said. “I don’t know why I haven’t thought of this before. I should’ve reached out to them a long time ago. Maybe I’ll make some calls tomorrow.”
“Hmm,” Georgia mused, not entirely sure what advice to offer. “Maybe Colin can help? Biloxi is his neck of the woods.”
“That’s a great idea,” Jacey said. “I’m sure he will at least know where I should begin.”
“Right now, let’s focus on getting sleepy again,” Georgia said. She wanted to at least talk with Dr. Plauche before Jacey went full-fledged investigative reporter on her. “I have to be at work in four hours.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Jacey said. “I’m keeping you up. Go to bed. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
“Only if you go back to bed too.”
Jacey stood up. “Good night,” she said and headed to her bedroom.
Georgia smiled. “See you in the morning. You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” Jacey said. “I promise. I actually feel better than I have, emotionally, in a long time.”
Georgia retreated to her room. Jacey watched her close the bedroom door, then sat down at the desk in the living room and turned on the computer. She could get a jump start on locating Lillian and her children right now. She put her hand on the chair at the desk and stood there before pulling it back. A few times before she had sat at this same keyboard to search for answers about the flood, but for some reason, she always changed her mind. Something always kept her from plugging in the information. She knew even then, of course, that her subconscious was keeping her from looking—but she always justified it some other way. She told herself she was in a big hurry, or she reasoned she didn’t know the full names of the family on the roof—anything to keep herself from actually looking. She defended all those obstructions in her mind, knowing full well the journalist in her could have figured it out anytime she wanted. The difference was, tonight she was ready.
She looked at the desktop computer, slowly pulled back the chair, and sat down. There would be many stories online about a mother and four children who had been stranded on a roof for days in a flood. There would be pictures, articles, opinions, and human interest stories. Maybe even an interview with some of her fellow roof tenants.
Jacey looked at the search bar and pondered what to type. Finally, she wrote, “Mother and children stranded in flood, Biloxi, Mississippi.” The images popped up immediately. She recognized them! Picture after picture of the sweet family she’d shared that harrowing experience with filled up the computer screen. She looked at the sweet faces of the children and the captions underneath. Dewayne Jackson, nine years old; Derek Jackson, six years old; Devin Jackson, five years old; and Demarcus Jackson, three years old. Their mother, Lillian, age thirty, smiled down on them. Jacey saw the gold locket around Lillian’s neck and recognized it at once. It was the same locket she sometimes dreamed about. Of course it belonged to Lillian Jackson. They were beautiful children, and Jacey grinned at the picture. So happy, cheesing it up for the camera. Demarcus was smiling so big you could see his precious dimples. Colin had told Demarcus his dimples were so deep he needed a Q-tip to clean them. That had made the older boys and Lillian laugh. For some reason, looking at his face on the computer screen made Jacey want to cry.
Jacey scrolled down to find the story that accompanied the photograph. And then she saw it. The headline: “Mother and son die in boat crash after flood.” What? What was this? She slapped at the scroll bar with a shaky hand.
Thirty-year-old Lillian Jackson and her three-year-old son, Demarcus, were killed Saturday when their rescue boat collided with another. Also killed in the crash were . . .
Jacey stopped reading. Her heart hammered in her chest. “No,” she whispered. “No, no, no, no . . . ,” she repeated over and over, hoping the black-and-white words blaring on the screen would somehow rearrange themselves. But they didn’t change, and she read them again and again. She felt tears stinging her eyes, and she blinked as they blurred her vision.
The mother and son were being rescued from a three-day stint on their roof in rural Harrison County. They were passengers in a boat when they collided with another rescue boat on the rain-swollen river. The remaining children are being treated at a local hospital. No word on their conditions. An additional survivor is listed in serious but stable condition. Her identity hasn’t been released.
Jacey gripped the sides of the chair until her knuckles turned white. As she stared at the computer screen, the memories started to flood over her again. Things that had been hidden in the corners of her mind for so long suddenly leapt at her from every angle. Images, smells, sounds were as real to her on this night as they had been that evening. She closed her eyes and clung tightly to the chair. She could almost taste the murky water.
The men—no, the angels—who had come to rescue them said there were tornado warnings out, and two had already touched down nearby. “Jimmy,” Jacey whispered out loud. His name was Jimmy, and the other one was Dan. The men moved them carefully off the roof and into an aluminum boat with a small motor. They had to move quickly. The rain had started again, and it brought the crackling lightning and deafening thunder with it. The wind was picking up with every passing minute. Jacey wanted off of the roof, but she didn’t want to leave Colin.
“There’s no room, Jacey. I can’t go,” Colin said. “But you have to go now. I’ll be all right. They will call someone for me. It’s okay. I promise. You have to go now.”
“I don’t want to leave you,” she said.
“I know, but you have to,” Colin said, shoving her from the roof into the boat. “Go. I’ll be fine. I promise.”
She kissed him, hard and fierce and fast. “You find me,” she said. “Swear.”
He crushed her against his chest. “You have all my numbers. Don’t lose them. Jacey . . . I . . .” He stopped talking, but his face said it all.
She smiled. “Me too,” she said, feeling everything he felt and more. She held on to his hand until she couldn’t.
As they sped away, Jacey gathered Demarcus into her arms and watched Colin until the roof faded from sight. She tried to face forward, but they were moving too fast. Her eyes teared, and she couldn’t see anything except water and trees anyway. She kept Demarcus close to her as they bumped into floating trees and God only knew what else in the swirling water that seemed to stretch forever. She
smiled at Lillian and the other boys.
“We’re gonna make it!” she shouted over the motor. “Didn’t I tell you that?”
They grinned at her, and Lillian smiled almost serenely, one hand holding the locket around her neck and the other gripping Devin. “Thank you,” Lillian mouthed.
Jacey smiled at Lillian, and in the next instant she heard Jim shouting, “Look out!”
She saw the other boat, but only for a split second. Flying, weightless, splashing, sputtering, pain, darkness meshed into one feeling and then, nothing.
Jacey remained in the chair, her hands still gripping the arms and her heart racing as fast as it had on that boat a year ago. Demarcus had flown out of her arms in an instant—she hadn’t held him tight enough, she couldn’t hold him tight enough. Something stronger than her had ripped him from her arms, and she never had a chance against it. Neither did he. She felt the tears rolling down her cheeks even though her eyes remained tightly closed. For the first time in a year, she remembered Demarcus with perfect precision. Sweet boy, with his dimpled cheeks and Elmo giggle. He loved toy cars and Pop-Tarts. He talked about wanting Pop-Tarts for three straight days. Jacey had promised him they would buy a sackful as soon as they set foot on dry land. He loved his mother and his brothers ferociously. When he sat in Jacey’s lap, he had twirled her hair in his fingers. And when one of his brothers got close, he’d shove him away and say, “No! My Jacey!” That made Jacey smile.
She opened her eyes and looked at his picture on the screen. Then she sobbed. She sobbed with months’ worth of pent-up frustration, from being held prisoner by her own mind . . . and with the fresh pain of grief for a child she’d known only briefly, but whose loss left her heartbroken.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Colin was startled out of a deep and dreamless sleep by the banging on his trailer door. He looked out the window, then grabbed his jeans, which were lying across the chair.
What? Jacey? What was she doing here in the middle of the night?
He pulled on his jeans and opened the door. Without a word, Jacey flung herself into his arms.
Colin held her against him. She wasn’t crying, but she was visibly upset. He pulled her inside without breaking the embrace and closed the door behind them.
After a minute, she whispered, “I remember. All of it.”
He held her tighter. “I’m so sorry, Jacey. I’m so sorry.”
She gently shoved herself away and looked at him. “I couldn’t hold him, Colin. It happened so fast. He was in my arms and then he was just . . . gone.”
Colin’s heart ached for her as he looked down at her face. Her eyes were swollen. Her hair was a mess. She wore yoga pants and a T-shirt and wasn’t even wearing shoes. He led her over to the sofa.
“Look at me,” he said. “Are you all right?”
She shook her head slowly. “I am. I’m just really, really sad.” Her voice broke slightly, and he reached for her again but she stopped him. “I know I look a mess, and showing up here in the middle of the night is just awful. I’m not a stalker. But I just needed . . . I wanted . . .”
“Sh . . . ,” he said and pulled her back into his arms. This time she relented. “You can stalk me anytime.”
“I didn’t know where else to go,” she said.
“You came to the right place.”
She began to cry again. “How can my heart hurt so bad for a child I knew only three days?” she asked. “He wasn’t even mine.”
“That’s not true,” Colin said. “He shared something with you that was life-threatening for all of us. Of course he had an impact on your life. You could’ve known him for fifteen minutes or fifteen years. The result is the same . . . You feel a loss. You’re supposed to feel a loss.”
Jacey cried against him for a long time, remembering everything about the precious little boy who was so happy even amid a disaster. Demarcus didn’t care. Even as the rain pounded around him, he played and giggled and teased his brothers. It wasn’t fair. His whole life had been in front of him.
Jacey’s tears finally subsided, and she nestled herself into Colin’s chest. “I don’t understand why God lets things like this happen.”
Colin stroked her hair. “I don’t either,” he said. “I know that’s not the answer you were looking for, but it’s the only one I can give you. I may be an ordained minister, but I’m just a man. I would never presume to know the mind of God.”
“At least you’re being honest with me. But I want to know why Demarcus had to die.”
“So do I,” Colin said. “But I can’t explain childhood cancer or accidents or any other tragedy. And I can’t explain why Demarcus is gone. It hurts me too.”
“He was precious,” Jacey said. “So sweet and trusting and happy. Even under the circumstances he was happy.”
“I know,” Colin said.
Jacey sat up suddenly and looked at Colin. “What do you think happened to the other kids?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Did they ever talk about their father? Maybe he has them.”
“He wasn’t in the picture. Does the state step in during a situation like that?”
“What do you mean he wasn’t in the picture?” Colin said, puzzled. “Not at all? Were they divorced?”
“Something Lillian said to me . . . ,” Jacey said. “When Lillian was still pregnant with Demarcus, he left. She hadn’t heard from him since, but I don’t know where he went. We had that discussion before you showed up.”
Colin thought for a moment. “I guess the State of Mississippi would step in under those circumstances. I imagine the boys are in foster care.”
Jacey didn’t like the way that sounded at all. “Do you think we could find out?”
“We could try,” Colin said. “What do you have in mind?”
Jacey shrugged. “I don’t know . . . I’d just like to see them. At least make sure they are okay after the accident. Make sure somebody is seeing to their needs. Those boys were abandoned by their father, and now their mother is gone. Can you imagine what they must be feeling?”
Colin smiled and pulled her to him again. Her heart was as big as the moon. He loved her.
There. He had acknowledged it.
“We’ll start looking for them tomorrow,” he said. “I promise.”
“Thank you, Colin.” She put her arm around him and rested her head on his chest again. “I really need to go back home,” she murmured sleepily.
“Not a chance,” Colin said. “Close your eyes. Sleep.”
Colin woke up much later to the sound of his cell phone vibrating on the table beside the sofa. He picked it up, then glanced at Jacey, still sleeping in his arms. The text was from Georgia.
“Please tell me you know where Jacey is. I woke up to go to work, and she isn’t here. And if she isn’t there, don’t scold me for losing her.”
Colin chuckled. He texted back:
“Asleep in my arms.”
The reply came seconds later.
“I knew it! Don’t call me when the hellfire and brimstone starts falling on you two sinners.”
Colin shook his head.
“It wasn’t like that,”
he wrote.
“She needed me.”
“And I need Blake Shelton, but we see how that’s working out. I’m going to work. I’ll be stopping by St. Aloysius to pray for you both. Maybe the priest will give me some holy water to sprinkle on you. I hope it doesn’t sizzle. I’ll pick up a new rosary for good measure.”
Colin chuckled, then replied:
“Knock yourself out. I’ll take any prayer I can get. By the way, I want you to meet a friend of mine.”
“Did you find one of them?”
“Aaron.”
“What does he do?”
she asked.
“He’s a football coach.”
“Hmm . . . interesting. I’ll think about it.”
Colin placed the phone back on the table and smoothed the hair away from Jacey’s face. Her eyes wer
e swollen. She had a bit of sleep drool on her lips, and she was snoring slightly. He’d never seen a more beautiful woman. He wanted to pull her against him and kiss her until she begged him to stop, morning breath and all.
Jacey opened her eyes, and for a moment had no idea where she was. But she knew without a doubt the arms that enfolded her belonged to Colin Jennings. She looked up. “Good morning,” she said.
“Good morning.” He smiled.
She tried to sit up, but he held her next to him.
“I need to go home,” she said. “I am so sorry I showed up here in the middle of the night. I assure you I don’t normally do this.”
“I didn’t assume that you did,” he said.
“I should’ve at least called you first. I am so embarrassed.”
“Why would you be embarrassed?” he asked. “This was exactly where you should’ve come. To me.”
She didn’t answer right away.
“Let me ask you this,” he said. “Did you feel safe here? Do you feel safe now?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Is there another place you wish you’d gone?”
She answered truthfully, “No.”
“There’s your answer.”
She relaxed against him. “Colin, do you think there really is . . . something between us?”
“You should be glad there are clothes between us,” he said.
She smiled. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” he said. He pushed her away from him so he could see her face. He crooked his finger under her chin. “Look at me, Jacey.”
She looked at his dark tousled hair and bare chest and tried to think about anything besides how incredibly good he looked this morning.
“What’s between us is real,” he said. “It was real on the roof, and it’s real today. But I have to tell you something . . .” He paused before he continued.
The Sweet Smell of Magnolias and Memories Page 7
