by Pat Simmons
No, he wasn’t leaving until he saw Ace and knocked some tender-loving sense into him. Later that evening, he visited friends in the old neighborhood.
Kidd couldn’t wait for the alarm clock to announce Monday morning. Once he and his mother had dressed and eaten, he drove them to Randolph jail and waited. For his mother’s sake, he kept his temper under control. Otherwise, he might as well hand her his ATM card, because she would have to bail him out next for assault and battery on his brother.
At last, from behind a locked door, Ace walked with a boastful strut into the lobby. Escorted by a guard, one might think he was some high-profile influential figure checking out of the Embassy Suites.
“Kidd?” His brown eyes lit up. “Whatz up, bro?” Ace grabbed his big brother into a bear hug. Kidd took that opportunity to crush Ace to his chest and whisper in his ear, “When I get through with you, you’re going to wish you were still locked up.”
Ace wrestled out of his older brother’s grip. “Why wait? We can save the police a pickup …”
Sandra forced a separation between her sons with an elbow to Kidd’s side and a punch to Ace’s arm. At the same time the not-so-pleasant family reunion was taking place, Cameron strolled through the door.
“Let’s go,” she ordered Kidd and Ace. Cameron followed too.
Forty minutes later, back at the condo, Sandra, Cameron, and Ace took positions on various pieces of furniture. Kidd paced a path on the carpet, encircling his brother.
“Ace, what is it about Samuel Jamieson that makes you want to be a chip off the old block?”
Ace thumped his chest. “I’m my own man. I’m grown—”
“But not gone from our mother’s house. Care about our mother, even if you don’t care about yourself. Granted, the Jamieson name doesn’t open any doors for us, but we’re the ones who have to turn it around.”
Kidd frowned. Did he just say that? Parke and Mrs. Valentine must be getting to him. “Do you know your mentality is just what’s expected of you by a certain sector of society? You’re feeding into the statistic that says boys from single-parent households have a greater percentage of incarceration.”
“Humph. They’re right about that,” Ace joked, which infuriated Kidd.
“I like to prove to people they’re wrong, just for the challenge. I believe we’ve got to have a secret weapon—”
“And that’s Jesus,” his mother interjected, cutting off Kidd.
Both sons shook their heads. Kidd didn’t want to hear that talk at the moment. After all, he understood Ace. The two of them had to fend for themselves for so long. At times, it seemed as if they were lost in the forest and couldn’t find the trail out.
Ace was destroying himself, and there was nothing Kidd could say or do to alter his path. Sighing, he flopped onto the sofa, only to meet his mother’s disapproving look for mistreating her furniture.
Up until this point, Cameron hadn’t stirred from his post in the corner. He cleared his throat, but didn’t try to interrupt. His serious expression reminded Kidd of Parke—poker face. One thing the Jamieson men were good at was keeping people guessing at what they were thinking.
Kidd leaned back with his eyes closed. “Okay, St. Louis Jamieson, what’s your two cents?”
“Actually, my opinion is worth much more than that.”
“Let’s hear it,” Kidd ordered.
“Pray.”
“Amen,” his mother whispered.
“That’s what my brothers and parents always say when I call home. Personally, I don’t know how that works as far as making a person change. I do know I’m here for my cousin for the long haul. Nothing can change that.”
Kidd opened one eye. It sounded good, but only time would tell. His mother was the last to take center stage. The fireworks were just beginning, and time was running out for him to extinguish the sparks before his flight back to St. Louis.
Everyone had a point of view concerning Ace’s behavior—except Ace. He seemed to be stuck on stupid and at the lowest level of maturity. Maybe he inherited a defective gene from Samuel. That was one more reason for Kidd to hate the man.
They all seemed exhausted from lecturing Ace—to no avail. Finally, they ate an early dinner and Kidd threw his items back into his bag. Cameron volunteered to drive him to the airport. With Ace tagging along in the passenger seat, Sandra and Kidd occupied the rear. The radio wasn’t blasting, but it was loud enough to mask Sandra and Kidd’s hushed conversation.
“Listen, son, although I miss you, consider making St. Louis your new home. At least you’re surrounded by family. Go to school, buy a house, get married, and have babies … eventually, become a grandpa. Your blessings aren’t limited to a life here,” she advised. Then, lowering her voice even more as Kidd strained to hear her, she said, “As soon as this matter is cleared up with Ace, he’s getting up out of here. I have friends in Philly and Des Moines.”
“Des Moines?” Kidd chuckled.
“My choice.” Sandra lifted a brow. “Don’t think I won’t … one more thing, I’ll visit you next time.” She was issuing a silent threat, but Kidd wasn’t in the mood to read between the lines.
“What are you saying, Ma?”
“I’ll visit you next time,” she repeated. “There’s no reason for you to come back to put out fires whenever Ace decides to start one.”
Chapter Seventeen
Kidd was actually happy when his plane touched down at Lambert Airport an hour and forty-five minutes later. The drama in St. Louis didn’t compare with what was brewing in Beantown.
He was still mulling over—with an attitude—his mother’s edict not to return home any time soon. After thirty-one years, he knew when Sandra was bluffing. She hadn’t cracked a smile.
Walking off the plane with his shoulders slumped, Kidd would never admit to anyone that he felt like a failure. As far as he was concerned, he’d let down his mother, his brother, and himself. He blamed one person: his phantom father. Despondent, Kidd strolled to the escalators and rode down to the baggage claim area. Although he hadn’t checked any baggage, Parke said he would meet him there.
When he made his way into the carousel area, a cavalry of Jamiesons greeted him: Parke and Cheney, their three children, Malcolm and Hallison, their son, and Parke and Malcolm’s parents. Even Imani had shown up, playing hide-and-seek behind big helium balloons. Kidd wondered how they got her to do that. She was the only one who wasn’t smiling. That snapshot was worth a thousand words. Kidd laughed. Pace held a homemade sign that read “Welcome home, Cousin Uncle Kevin.”
Slowing his steps to enjoy his brief celebrity status, suddenly, he felt appreciated. When the children spotted him, they cheered and clapped wildly, causing strangers to take notice. Their actions were as embarrassing as they were humbling, then comforting.
His mother was right—his future was in his hands. It was hard to dislike these Jamiesons. The scene was maddening as the women showered him with kisses and hugs, the men tested his strength with handshakes, and the children made a game out of chanting his name.
The drive from the airport to Parke’s house was short. When they arrived at the house, the smell of barbecue teased Kidd as he walked through the front door. The children raced to the kitchen, including Malcolm’s young son, MJ, who was at least a year older than Parke’s toddler.
“There’s school in the morning,” Cheney reminded them. “After you eat, then it’s bath time.”
The little Jamiesons moaned as Hallison instructed them to wash their hands. Imani headed home. Since the day Cheney put her in check, Imani seemed bored to be around Kidd.
“You want something to eat, man—ribs, chicken? We grilled hot dogs for the children, but it’s your choice,” Parke offered.
“It’s barely the end of April, why the cookout on a Monday?” Kidd asked him.
“Sort of a ‘welcome back to your new home’ celebration. We have plenty, including side dishes. You left stressed. It was our wives’ idea.”
&
nbsp; Harmonious was the only way to describe the moment, until Kidd walked into the crossfire in the kitchen. Kami, Pace, Paden, and MJ were clamoring for their favorite color of Jell-O treats. Despite eating at his mother’s, he helped himself to potato salad, spaghetti, and a few pieces of chicken. After all, it was an hour earlier in St. Louis, thanks to Central Standard Time.
If Malcolm and Parke ate beforehand, there was no evidence of it. They grabbed plates and served themselves as if they had missed two meals or more. Instead of eating at the table, the trio headed to Parke’s cave.
“I am not a maid—volunteered or paid—remember to load those dishes up when you all are finished,” Cheney yelled after them.
Half-listening, Parke nodded and rested his plate on an ottoman. Kidd went along with the program and bowed his head while Parke recited a blessing. They said a string of “Amens,” then Parke scooped up the remote and angled it toward the screen. Surfing the channels, he found a St. Louis Cardinals’ game. Within minutes, the men jeered when the outfielder dropped the ball. Not long after that, the Red Birds lost. Parke clicked off the television and faced Kidd. “Welcome home, man.”
Kidd nodded and smirked. “Thanks.”
“So what’s going on with our family in Boston?” Malcolm asked.
“You mean, my family,” Kidd corrected.
“Kidd—”
“No, Parke and Malcolm, let me say this. There is no way I’d believe ‘meddling’ Cameron didn’t call and give his big brothers the scoop. You had a transcript before my plane taxied off the runway to Boston.”
The brothers exchanged glances. Their silence confirmed Kidd’s suspicions. “See what I mean. I’m entitled to my privacy. You don’t need to know everything about me, including the color of my underwear.”
“You didn’t have to go there. The only male behind I want to see is when I help with Paden’s potty training. Bottom line, Kidd—if Ace is in trouble—we all are.”
Kidd growled and threw up his arms. “Excuse me, if I don’t join in this ‘all-for-one-and-one-for-all’ Jamieson solidarity. My brother is self-destructing, and my mother is barring me from coming home to knock some sense into his head. She’s putting her money on God to handle this.”
“I second that. If you let Him, God will come through,” Malcolm said, trying to encourage him.
“See, cuz, that’s where I have a problem, letting other people handle my business.”
“Kidd, if your mother says she’s trusting God for Ace, then we’ve got her back. We’ll keep praying while we’re trusting. Ace needs spiritual strength,” Malcolm advised.
“Ace needed a father to show him how to be a man. You two can’t imagine how it feels to suffer from the loss of a parent. Even though Samuel Jamieson wasn’t dead when we were growing up, he was missing in action.”
Looking away, Parke seemed to choke. “No, I’ve been a blessed man to have both Mom and Dad, but you talk about pain. Wanna swap pain? How about almost losing three children?” His nostrils flared. The emotion in his eyes was raw. “I think that qualifies me to know something about hurt.”
Whoa. Kidd backed off. “Yeah, Pace did mention something about his brother dying. I really didn’t believe him. I thought he was pulling my leg.” So the boy did know what he was talking about. Kidd could have asked Parke, but that would have shown he cared.
“When Cheney and I first got married,” Parke explained, “the doctors said she would never be able to have children. Heartbroken, we accepted that, but God had other plans. When Cheney conceived, the doctors didn’t believe it until their tests confirmed it. They warned us that Cheney was still high risk, but we believed God.”
Parke took a deep breath and seemed to stare through Kidd. “We lost that baby, Kidd. We lost our baby.” When Parke bowed his head, Malcolm slapped him on the back a few times and lovingly squeezed his neck.
“It’s okay, bro,” Malcolm comforted him. “God is good anyway.”
Kidd chided himself for forcing Parke’s hurt to resurface. No, he had never lost a child. He’d only lost his father when he was a child, but that still wasn’t the same. The three were quiet while Parke gathered his thoughts and composed himself.
“Before we got married, Cheney and I had been foster parents. Kami was our first—”
“Get out of here.” Kidd shook his head, still doubtful. “She’s a carbon copy of you and a replica of your wife’s attitude. How can that be? She is going to be something else when she grows up.”
“Yeah, you’re right. That was all God’s doing. She’s something else now, and most of her attitude comes from Grandma BB.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Kidd chimed in.
“I know.” Parke chuckled. “We miss her. Anyway, do you know Grandma BB threatened to marry me, if Cheney didn’t?”
Kidd and Malcolm filled the room with hoots. Parke shuddered.
“It ain’t funny. You don’t know her like we do. I wouldn’t put it past her to drug me, then bribe someone to drag me to the altar—the ultimate cougar. She owns a gun and knows how to use it. She shot Cheney’s father, Dr. Reynolds.”
“Are you serious?” Kidd’s eyes bucked. “When she bragged about that, I thought she was delusional, so I played along. What happened?”
Shaking his head, Malcolm interjected, “She called it a retaliation hit.”
“That’s a whole other story in a different book.” Parke waved his hand. “But the end result is, Dr. Reynolds is alive and sitting in prison for a felony hit-and-run that killed Grandma BB’S husband. Grandma BB got ninety days shock time for firing a weapon.”
Kidd bowled over, laughing. Tears squeezed out of his eyes. “That woman—with or without a stroke—is something else. You’ll have to fill me in on the details later.”
Parke laughed along with them and then sobered. “Sorry, I got sidetracked.” He bowed his head and took a deep breath before looking up again. “Kidd, I really want you to get my message. This family knows pain. We don’t understand why God told us to trust Him, only to later suffer the loss of our baby. But He will have all the answers when we get to Glory.
“God gave us Kami, and she’s a handful.” Pride shone in his eyes. “It wasn’t long until Cheney was pregnant again with our second child—a son. We lost him in her last semester—I mean trimester.” He paused. “Cheney delivered Parke K. Jamieson VII, a stillborn, on October third at 2:45 in the afternoon. He was perfect to us. We had a chance to hold him in the hospital before we allowed doctors to take him and run tests to find the cause of his death. Seven days later, we buried him.”
Stealing a gulp of air, Kidd slowly exhaled. He wasn’t a crier, but his cousin was pushing his threshold.
Parke continued his monologue. “While Kami was in foster care, our social worker recalled seeing a name similar to mine for a little boy in the system. Thank God for Kami because without her, there wouldn’t have been a social worker who recognized my name and put us on the hunt for Pace. Thank God for every incident in our lives that advances us to the next part.”
Malcolm sat straighter. “You may not have noticed, but Kami will fight anybody over her daddy. Both she and Pace have excelled in martial arts. When MJ gets old enough, he’ll join them.” Malcolm chuckled and shook his head. He and Parke were both grinning proudly.
“Oh, one more thing.” Malcolm added, “That girl can sense evil. She did with me.”
“What do you mean?” Kidd asked, eyeing Malcolm.
“Hali had my faithfulness, commitment, and surrender, even before I proposed. God had other plans. When Hali gave her life over to Christ, me—a stubborn Jamieson—wouldn’t budge. So the Lord told her to choose, and I lost.”
That was the craziest story Kidd had ever heard, but he didn’t interrupt.
“Us Jamieson men don’t take no for an answer. You may know something about that. So I gave Hali my ultimatum. If we were really meant to be together, I told her we would find our way back to each other. If not, we both ha
d greater loves waiting for us. Man, I can talk a good game, but I was miserable without her—”
“Make that pit-i-ful,” Parke taunted his brother.
“You don’t even want me to start in on you … Cheney—”
“Okay, okay, finish your story.” Parke backed down.
Kidd smirked. They behaved like he and Ace probably would, once his brother grew up. Both were muscular, in shape, and stood about six-two or six-three. Even without martial arts, they looked like a force to be reckoned with. Parke was fair-skinned, with a mustache. Malcolm had more sun, with piercing eyes and a cocky, sinister look. His thick beard just added to his mysterious persona.
“Anyway, as I was saying before Parke interrupted, I hooked up with this hot, sizzlin’ chick named Lisa. The woman could make any man lose his mind, literally. But Kami didn’t like her at all. At first, I thought it was because she wanted me to be with Hali, which probably did have a little to do with it.
“But more than that, I believe God allowed Kami to discern Lisa’s spirit. That woman was dabbling in witchcraft. Whoa.” Malcolm held up his hands. “Even before God saved me, I had my standards. No drugs, no gambling, and no Wicca. In hindsight, I believe God was letting me know He had the cream of the crop waiting for me. If I wanted Hali, first I had to repent and be baptized in Jesus’ name.
“Once I stopped denying the whole ‘I have to repent, be baptized, and accept God’s gifts’ mantra, Jesus filled me with His promises and power. You know, when it comes to the Lord’s promises to His apostles, we often tease each other and say, ‘Don’t leave home without it.’”
Malcolm smiled a confident smile, as he reminisced about his crowning achievement. “Yeah, I’ve been good-to-go ever since. So I had a choice: the cream of the crop or the bottom of the pot.” Grinning, he folded his arms behind his head, and reclined on the sofa.
“That’s deep.” Kidd shook his head. The man was in love with his wife. Kidd didn’t see cheating anywhere in Malcolm’s future. Out of nowhere, Eva’s smile flashed across Kidd’s mind’s eye. It was just for a second, but the intense pounding of his heart lingered. He had never denied her beauty and freely gave compliments. Still, he had to get inside her head to see how she felt about him.
