The Emerald Ring

by Dara Girard

  So Michelle decided to be very careful about where he took her. She didn’t want him overexerting himself. She knew other women might be put out by his weakness, but she didn’t care. He made her happy and accepted her as she was and that was all that mattered.

  “I’d love to visit a fruit market,” Michelle called to him from her bedroom as she put in her earrings. She wore jeans, a green top and multicolored scarf. The earrings—costume jewelry, a little gaudy—she’d bought to match her Stanford Norman designer scarf and make him smile. He’d come by her flat to take her to an outdoor concert. “The weather is perfect, don’t you think?” When he didn’t reply, she walked into the living room and saw him on the couch, dressed in one of his stylish bespoke shirts, with his head back and his eyes closed. It was a position she was getting used to.

  There were moments he looked exhausted. But now she wondered. Was he seriously ill? Had his last surgery been for a bigger problem? He looked a little peakish and it was only early morning. She lightly tapped him on the shoulder.

  He opened his eyes and smiled at her, warming her heart and making her worry at the same time. “You look great.” He started to stand but she stopped him with her hand. He frowned. “What’s wrong? You’re not ready yet?”

  Michelle bit her lip and sat down beside him, covering his hand. “If you’re not up to this we can cancel.”

  “No, I want to.”

  “Are you…okay?”

  He hesitated. “If I weren’t would that change anything?”

  She took a deep breath. “How sick are you?”

  James looked away for a moment. “I’m getting my strength back. It’s just taking some time. I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize.”

  He lowered his head. “I’ve spent most of my life either in a wheelchair, a cast or leg braces.” He looked at her. “When I was three-years-old I was playing in the driveway and someone, they say it was the gardener, didn’t see me and backed over me. Shattered both my legs and I was in braces for years after. At six I tripped and fell down the stairs and broke my arm. Then when I was about nine I got a new bicycle. My mother had been worried but I was so excited. I rode down the street and…I honestly don’t remember much.” He shook his head. “I remember waking up in another hospital. Another couple of years of surgeries and hospital visits followed. I still sometimes have trouble with my knees since the accident, which needs to get fixed. Just this spring I managed to fracture my shoulder, but I should be able to lead a normal life. But because of my past injuries, I’m not in the best of shape and I tend to tire easily and that’s hard for me to admit but I’m getting stronger…this trip was to be an escape. And it has been. You’re the medicine I needed.”

  “Is that why you were home schooled?”

  He nodded.

  “And why you’re still single? I mean a man like you—”

  The corner of his mouth curved up in a smile. “It’s only one of the reasons.”

  “What’s the other one?” She squeezed his hand when he fell silent. “You can trust me.”

  He squeezed her hand in return and stood. “I know, but that’s enough about me for one day. Let’s—”

  “You’re not ready to tell me about your talent?”

  He turned sharply to her, his voice cracked. “What?”

  She patted the empty space beside her. “Are you still trying to manage it?”

  He didn’t sit. He stood frozen.

  “James, it’s okay.”

  “You sensed it?”

  She nodded.

  “Does it scare you?”

  “Do I look scared?”

  He took a deep breath. “Yes.”

  “It’s because…I don’t want to lose you. And I don’t want you to push me away. I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Why not?’

  “My father once told me that I would meet a powerful man torn between two worlds and that I would be his anchor. I didn’t believe him.”

  Until now. He hadn’t opened his mouth but the words came into her mind.

  “Yes. Until now,” she said so that he would know that she’d heard him.

  He sat down amazed. Really? That didn’t scare you?

  She shook her head.

  I can’t read your thoughts or anything.

  I know that.

  His eyes widened. You can do it too?

  Only with you. You’re helping me. I’ve never done it before.

  He rubbed his chin. No, you’re lying. No one has ever been able to talk to me like this.

  She only smiled.

  I can see the past. Sometimes by touching things, sometimes it just comes to me.

  Then why did you go to a place filled with history like a castle?

  He laughed. I’m in England. Everywhere is filled with history, plus…I was trying to test myself. I had an incident…

  What happened?

  He lowered his gaze and said, “That’s the problem. I don’t remember.”

  “You have blackouts?”

  He looked at her. “They started when I was nine. They don’t happen often,” he said quickly, “and never when I drive. You’re safe with me.”

  “I know that. You don’t have to keep telling me. But one thing puzzles me.”

  “What?”

  “The first time we met, when we were in the garden, for a moment I felt as if I were transported into another time and there was this emotional bond that was so strong.”

  His compelling eyes held her still. “I felt it too. But that’s the first time anyone has ever shared a memory connection with me.”

  “A memory connection?”

  “That’s the best way I can describe it. It’s like seeing someone else’s life but feeling it as my own. When I don’t have the words, I tie myself with another emotional memory.”

  “You were trying to tell me how you felt?”

  “Yes.”

  “When did you know you had this talent?”

  He smiled.

  “What?”

  “I’ve never heard it called a talent before. More like a curse.”

  “You can do something amazing. It’s a talent, you need to hone it. How old were you when you knew you were different?”

  “I always saw things others didn’t but my family thought I had a wild imagination. The telepathy I only do with a few people like my grandmother, but rarely.”

  “Do you ever make people think in ways they shouldn’t?”

  “No. Okay,” he admitted when she didn’t believe him. “When I was younger I was a little more reckless, but I’m not that way now. At times I’ll make suggestions that they might make on their own if they weren’t afraid to do it on their own.”

  “I should be afraid then.”

  He took her hand. “It’s not mind control. I can’t convince anyone do something completely against their nature. Sort of like you.”

  “Me?”

  “I know what you can do.”

  “How did you know? You guessed from the first day, didn’t you?”

  He shrugged. “The same way you knew I was different. I felt it. When I’m with you the energy is…controlled. Calm.”

  “And when I’m with you I feel electrified, energetic.”

  He smiled. “A good match then?”

  “The best.”

  Chapter 20

  Cory hated when his father stopped by his flat unannounced. He especially hated when his Dad stopped by after Cory had spent the previous night pub crawling with two sisters from Barbados who liked his accent. He hated it even more when his father chose to storm into his bedroom, opened the blinds and told him he had five minutes to get dressed because he wanted to talk. He swore and rubbed his eyes.

  His Dad had terrible timing. Cory left the warm comfort of his bed, crawled over one of his new lady friends, replacing the sheets when it slid off her bare bottom, and grabbed a robe. He quickly brushed his teeth before stumbling into the hallway. At least his hangover wasn�
�t too bad. He didn’t feel sick and his head only felt like it had gained half a stone.

  He squinted at his father who sat on the edge of Cory’s stylish mauve couch as if afraid it would eat him. At least his father didn’t look angry, so he knew he wasn’t in trouble. That was a relief. Cory yawned and scratched his cheek. His skin felt rough. He’d have to buy a new facial cream. “What’s this about then?”

  “Rumors.”

  Cory sat down. “Rumors?”

  “Yes,” his father said. “Rumors I should know about.”

  “Okay.”

  “Rumors that involve the family.”

  “Okay.”

  “Certain rumors like the one about your cousin.”

  Cory frowned. “Which cousin?”

  “James.”

  “There’s a rumor about James?”

  “Yes, the one about him dating an intern in your bloody department!” His father picked up a couch cushion and threw it at him with such speed it hit Cory square in the face. “Something you neglected to tell me about.”

  Cory rubbed his nose. “No need for violence, Dad.”

  His father lifted another cushion.

  Cory held out his hands in defense. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  His father replaced the cushion. “How sorry?”

  Cory lifted a brow uncertain. “Very?”

  His father frowned. “You don’t even know why I’m upset.”

  “Because you hate rumors?”

  His father lifted the cushion once more. Cory curled himself into a ball as his father whacked him on the back of the head. “Do you think I enjoy getting hysterical phone calls from my sister?” he said. “Do you think I like being ignorant of what’s going on within my own company?!”

  Cory continued to cover his head and said in a timid voice, “I’m sorry. Really.” He cautiously lifted his head when he heard his father move away. “I didn’t think much of it.”

  “Did you know about her before?”

  “Before what?”

  His father sighed with impatience. “Before she was an intern. It’s possible that they’ve met before.”

  “I didn’t know anything about it.”

  “What is she like?”

  Cory laughed at his father’s concern. “Aunty has nothing to worry about. She’s not even pretty. James probably liked her presentation and wanted to know more.”

  “For nearly a month?”

  Cory’s brows shot up. “Has it been going on that long? Wow, that’s longer than I thought.”

  His father folded his arms. “Apparently.”

  “Okay, okay,” Cory said, realizing his error. Then his mind jumped to another possibility. What if James was trying to lure her away? She was smart and efficient. A great worker and if she could make Cory look good she could make James look even better. Or what if James was using her to spy on him and find out how he was doing? But if that had been the case his father would have come down on him sooner. Besides, she didn’t seem that kind of girl. No, his aunt and father had the wrong end of the stick. James was trying to muscle into his territory. That was his only interest in the plain little intern. He’d have to remember to be extra nice to her. “I’ll pay more attention. Do you want me to say something to her? Put a stop to it?”

  “No, I want you to keep me informed.” His father rubbed his chin, pensive. “You really don’t think she’s a threat?”

  “Trust me, Dad. Mindy is not a problem.”

  Chapter 21

  The jar of sweets was a surprise as well as the disarming grin Cory gave her when he placed it on her desk.

  Michelle looked up at him confused. “What’s this?”

  “Just a little token to let you know how much you’re appreciated,” he said.

  “I haven’t really done anything.”

  He nodded. “So humble and modest. Don’t forget that the offer I made is negotiable. I want you to be very happy here.” He patted her on the shoulder then stopped and sent her a worried look. “That’s not sexual harassment, is it? Dad’s always going on about it, but a friendly pat doesn’t count, right? It’s not like I whacked you on the ass, which, of course, would be completely out of order and not something I would ever do. You can trust me. I am the kind of supervisor I hope you would feel comfortable coming to at any time. We do have a good relationship, don’t we? I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable, did I?”

  “No, but all your questions are starting to.”

  “Right, back to work then.” He left.

  Tansy watched him go. “Well, he’s walking straight, so he’s not smashed.”

  “Drunk?” Michelle said, making sure she understood the meaning.

  “Yes. What’s with him?”

  Michelle shook her head, lifting the jar of sweets. “I don’t know.”

  “He’s probably nervous about you dating his cousin,” Mini Cooper said eying the jar of sweets.

  Michelle handed it to her. “Take some and share it around.”

  To Michelle’s surprise her face lit into a wide grin and she eagerly opened the jar. “Thanks.” She pulled out a handful of sweets and stuffed them in her sweater pockets. “My advice still stands. Be careful not to get your heart broken.” She turned and began offering the other workers the jar.

  “How is it going with James?” Tansy asked, drawing out James’s name in a dramatic fashion.

  Michelle shrugged with nonchalance. “Oh, we’re just friends. It’s nothing special.”

  “I want you to meet my grandmother.”

  James’s request surprised her. Michelle switched her phone to her other ear while she slipped out of her dress shoes. She was still recovering from Cory’s strange behavior this morning, but James’s words that night left her speechless. “Your grandmother?”

  “Yes.”

  “I had no idea. She looks awfully young. When I first saw her I thought she was your mother.” She certainly acted like it at the castle.

  James paused. “Who are you talking about?”

  “Ms. Winfield. The woman you were with at the Design Studio.”

  “Yes, she is my mother.”

  “Oh…but you want me to meet your grandmother?”

  “That is correct.”

  He was skipping over his mother to his grandmother? Somehow that made her feel even more nervous. Wasn’t there a protocol to follow? It was like skipping the main meal and going straight to dessert; entering a building and zipping to the penthouse suite. She knew a formal introduction to his mother would be an experience, but his grandmother would be ten times more. Michelle sunk into her couch feeling the weight of the responsibility and honor.

  “You’ll be fine. I’ll pick you up Saturday.” He told her the time but she barely heard it.

  “What should I wear?”

  “Just be yourself,” he said then disconnected.

  She immediately went out and bought a simple blue cocktail dress and matching shoes. James said she looked lovely, but he always said that so she didn’t believe him. The true test would be his grandmother.

  And Martha Winfield was everything Michelle had imagined her to be and more. She was as regal as a Benin statue and beautiful with a long slender neck, rich cocoa skin and a short afro as white as sugar. When Michelle saw Martha sitting in the living room of the Winfield’s expansive country cottage—which to Michelle looked like a midsize castle—dressed in a golden white blouse and black skirt, flanked by two large woven baskets bursting with large peacock feathers, she had to resist the urge to curtsey or bow.

  Martha held out her hand. “Let me see the ring.”

  James nodded when Michelle hesitated. “It’s okay.”

  Martha laughed. “I’m not going to steal it. I only want to make sure.”

  Michelle looked at James uncertain. “Make sure of what?”

  He folded his arms. “Just let her see the ring.”

  “No.”

  His hands fell to his hips. “What?”

  “I s
aid no.”

  What are you doing? He silently asked her.

  I want to know what’s going on.

  Let her see the ring.

  Why?

  He cupped her chin. Because I’m asking you nicely.

  Michelle narrowed her eyes. And what happens when you stop being nice?

  “Okay, you two,” Martha said. “Enough of that.”

  You’ll find out soon enough. James said.

  Michelle smiled. I’m trembling.

  Martha clapped her hands. “I said that’s enough.” She held out her hand. “Let me see the ring. It’s not a suggestion.”

  Michelle reluctantly pulled off her ring. She knew manners dictated respecting one’s elders but she didn’t like being bossed about. She watched Martha take out a loupe and inspect it. “Yes, it’s genuine.”

  I could have told you that, Michelle wanted to say, but didn’t. Her father may not be as rich as a king but he knew his trade.

  “Where did you get it?”

  “My father gave it to me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it was my birthday.”

  “There was another reason.”

  Michelle sighed not wanting to share her father’s story with a stranger.

  Go on and tell her, James said.

  Michelle wanted to put her hands over her ears, but she knew that wouldn’t help. Will you cut that out?

  Please.

  I have to think.

  Stop being an arrogant American.

  As opposed to a nosy Brit?

  I prefer it to a haughty Jamaican.

  Right now you’re showing your true roots and being a condescending West African—

  East actually.

  I don’t care.

  Our children will.

  What?

  Never mind.

  “I know it seems like a personal question,” Martha said with a note of apology, seemingly oblivious to their exchange. “But it’s important.”