by Dara Girard
Just like his family had.
But James had been more optimistic than Kenneth had ever been. He remembered being at their wedding reception and envying the older man’s joy. He didn’t think it was possible. He’d been hiding his own secrets back then. But now that was over.
Kenneth didn’t sleep well thinking about Michelle, hoping James pulled through and pondering Teresa’s words. He slept in late and woke to his son’s wailing. Instead of turning over in bed as he usually did, Kenneth followed the sound of the cries, and made his way to the kitchen where he saw Joyce trying to soothe a crying Alex whose nose was as red as a cherry.
“I’m sorry,” he heard Syrah say.
“Accidents happen.” Joyce replied.
“What accident?” Kenneth said.
Syrah turned to him looking miserable. “I opened a cupboard to get a glass just as Joyce was passing with Alex—”
“And it hit him in the face,” Joyce finished, bouncing the screaming baby on her hip. “I’m sure he’ll calm down in a minute.”
“I’m so sorry, Dad. I know I should have been more careful.”
“It’s okay,” Kenneth said, affectionately patting her on the head before he turned to Joyce. He took a deep breath then said, “Hand him to me.”
She gaped at him as if he’d suddenly levitated. Syrah did too.
Kenneth couldn’t stop a smile at the sight of their startled faces. He reached for Alex. “Go on. Hand him over.”
Joyce blinked and did so. And Alex continued to wail, even curling his back to let out his baby rage, but Kenneth felt calm. Almost happy. “Go ahead and cry little one,” he said. “Life hurts, but I’ve got you.” He didn’t know what he was saying or doing, but the words felt right and he wasn’t going to stop holding him. Kenneth held Alex’s head, caressed his hot, tear stained cheek, and stroked his back, knowing his own father had never held him this way.
There was never tenderness in his father’s touch. Only pain. But he wasn’t his father or his brother and Alex’s past would be different than his. And Kenneth remembered the man who he considered his true father, a man who had given him his name and taught him how to love. A man who he wanted to make proud. Kenneth took a deep breath and inhaled Alex’s soft baby scent, brushed his chin against the tight curls on his head. Kenneth’s heart filled with love and a desire to protect. No matter what Alex did, he knew he’d never hurt him. He wasn’t that kind of man. The cycle was broken.
Soon Alex’s cries settled into whimpers, then hiccups, and then drifted into silence. Kenneth felt his son’s warm breath on his neck and looked down to see that he’d fallen asleep.
“He’s never done that after a temper,” Joyce said amazed.
“You’re a natural, Dad,” Syrah said.
Kenneth glanced up to tease that he’d just gotten lucky when he saw Jessie standing in the entryway. She had tears in her eyes. Tears of joy. He swallowed a lump in his throat, sorry he’d hurt her because of his fears.
“Jasmine, I—” he began, but she rushed over and kissed him on the cheek and said, “I know.”
Chapter 53
He remembered her voice. He remembered Michelle’s voice calling him, drawing him back from the edge of the abyss.
He could break the curse, she said.
He could be with her, she said.
At last.
James opened his eyes and although he saw mostly shadows, he immediately knew where he was. He’d woken up in enough hospitals to identify them by the sound of rubber soles against the tiled floors and wheeled beds rolling down a corridor; the scent of flowers and medicine. He felt a hand in his, a soft female hand, and closed his hand around it.
He heard her gasp, and for a moment, briefly, he wished he could see her face again. He’d been told a couple of years ago that his optic nerve hadn’t been permanently damaged and with surgery he could possibly regain partial vision, some of the shadows would remain but he would see a little more light. However, nothing was certain and after his mother’s death, he had felt his current state was well deserved. He still wasn’t sure he wanted more surgeries. For now the fact that Michelle was there—he could feel her, hear her, inhale her scent—was enough.
“You’re awake,” Michelle said. “Let me get a nurse.”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
“But—”
“Not yet, please.” Are we alone? He silently asked her.
Yes.
Was it a dream?
No. It’s finally over. You didn’t kill Joanna. It seems she surprised the attackers and—
But Gran said I might have—
“You were too injured to do anything. It was Graham who tried to suggest otherwise because he wanted to get back at you for running off and marrying me without him knowing.
James nodded. That made sense. Graham hadn’t been the man he thought he was. The incident in St. Clarine had taught him that.
Michelle held James’s hand and watched his face settle into understanding. She’d agreed with Martha that he’d never need to know the full truth about his mother and, in turn, her own involvement. Her marriage and business were safe now. Martha could never threaten her again and Michelle knew James’s uncles would lookout for his future in the company. They too would keep whatever they knew from him, although Martha had kept them in the dark as well.
Michelle had learned that darkness had its uses. She would lie in order not to cause James anymore pain. There was no need to shine a light on the truth. Stories have power. It was something her father used to always tell them. Now she knew how much.
With her free hand, Michelle lightly stroked his cheek. “Let me call the nurse now.”
James covered her hand then frowned as he realized something was missing. “Where’s your ring?”
“I exchanged it for something much more precious—you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, I’ll tell you the story someday.” She kissed him on the lips then whispered. “Now I’m calling a nurse.”
The hospital was astounded by James’s recovering but put him under observation for one more day just to be safe. However, they allowed him to see visitors. And James was pleasantly surprised to have more than he’d expected, he’d only expected his grandmother and uncles who were stateside, but more well-wishers arrived.
“It’s me, Teresa,” a familiar voice said, placing a kiss on his cheek. “And this is my husband, Sean.”
“A pleasure,” Sean said, holding out his hand.
James’s hand fumbled in the air a bit before he found and shook Sean’s hand. “Likewise.” He drew away then suddenly felt another solid male hand take his and offer a friendly, confident shake. “I’m Kenneth Preston, Jasmine’s husband.”
James lifted his brows. “Your name sounds exactly the same as the guy she used to hate.”
“I am the guy she used to hate.”
“Not anymore,” Jessie said with laughter in her voice. They introduced him to their daughter and son and James felt the warmth of the family he’d always wanted to be a part of. He was sorry to hear about the Clifton’s passing, but knew they’d be pleased their daughters were doing well. He knew his own mother would feel the same.
On the day of his release, outside the hospital doors, James felt the humid heat that reminded him of their wedding day. In his memory he saw his new bride standing beside him. He felt Michelle wrap her arm around him, just as she had in the castle garden and made him feel strong and offered him a new future. “Where do we go from here?” she asked him.
Anywhere and everywhere, he wanted to say, but instead he said the words he knew she wanted to hear, “We go home.”
Epilogue
He’d always felt special. Even at the orphanage he felt different from the rest. When he was finally adopted by a kind couple—a porter and former school teacher—and given his permanent name, Stanford Norman, he knew in his heart how lucky he was.
He also knew his passion. Clothes. He didn’t k
now why the sound of the sewing machine filled him with such calm and joy. It gave him a sense of home. He begged his mother to show him how to use it and pestered her until she did. Then he couldn’t stay away. His parents silently worried about him, but they didn’t interfere.
He designed his mother’s dresses, his father’s shirts, his sister’s costumes. He learned about color, texture and lines.
Deep in his bones he knew who he was and what he was meant for; he didn’t care how the world saw him because ever since he could remember, he’d always felt a great love had formed him.
That a great love had raised him.
And through his international company, where he designed and crafted ethnically embellished clothing, he shared that great love with the world.
Also Available
If you enjoyed The Emerald Ring don't miss Dara's other works...
The Clifton Sisters
The Sapphire Pendant
The Amber Stone
* * *
The Fortune Brothers
A Tempting Proposal
A Seductive Arrangement
* * *
The Black Stockings Society
Power Play
A Gentleman’s Offer
Body Chemistry
Round the Clock
* * *
Return of the Black Stockings Society
Playing for Keeps
After Hours
A Private Affair
Return of the Black Stockings Society 3 Book Bundle
Just One Look
Private Lessons
* * *
It Happened One Wedding
Unexpected Pleasure
Midnight Promise
Sweet Temptation
Always and Forever
* * *
Duvall Sisters
The Glass Slipper Project
Taming Mariella
* * *
The Henson Series
Table for Two
Gaining Interest
Careless Rapture
Dangerous Curves
Familiar Stranger
The Henson Brothers (Includes the novels Table for Two and Gaining Interest)
Out of the Past (Includes the novels Careless Rapture and Familiar Stranger)
* * *
Discover these books and more at www.iloripressbooks.com
About the Author
Dara Girard, an award-winning, national bestselling author of more than forty books continues to gain readers with titles such as Private Lessons, Always and Forever, Sweet Temptation, and Midnight Promise. Dara loves to travel and hear from readers.
* * *
Sign up for her newsletter and be the first to find out about current and upcoming releases.
For more information
www.daragirard.com
Copyright Information
Copyright © 2018 Sade Odubiyi
Published by ILORI PRESS BOOKS LLC
Cover and Layout Copyright © 2018 ILORI PRESS BOOKS LLC
Cover Photo woman © William Moss/dreamstime
* * *
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
* * *
The scanning, uploading, and distributing of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
