Shattered Dreams - Book 1: Behind Closed Doors Series Page 7

  Izaiah assumed Dana was bothered by Gregory’s announcement, because she was the only one who hadn’t congratulated him on his new position. But could he blame Dana for her actions? He would be upset, too, if he had been left out of the loop, especially because Dana was Gregory’s wife. She should have not been treated like everyone else.

  “Don’t worry about her; she will come around.”

  Izaiah broke his gaze away from Dana, only to set his eyes upon a similar replica.

  “Asia Beaufort,” Izaiah announced. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.”

  “That was before I knew who you were,” Asia said. “You could have just told me, you know. I’ve been behind my father to add some ‘flavor’ to the youth department. It has been quite bland for a while.”

  Izaiah chuckled. “I can see where you get your wittiness from. I would have never thought of that description to define lassitude.”

  “Like I would have never thought of ‘lassitude’ to define the condition of the youth,” Asia quipped. She extended her hand, her onyx eyes searching him. “Congratulations on your new role, Mr. Cahoon – or should it be Reverend Cahoon? I do pray your labor at St. Donovan’s Chapel will be rewarding.”

  Izaiah grinned, thoroughly impressed at how easy it was for Asia to control a conversation. “So this means that I have your blessing?”

  Asia rolled her eyes. “Why do you need my blessing? My father seems to think that you are the right man for the job.”

  Asia began to back away, but Izaiah was not done with her. “It appears to me that you have a real passion for the youth,” he told her. “Would you be willing to lend your assistance every now and then – if the need should arise?”

  “I have no problem with that, Mr. Cahoon.”

  “Good.” Izaiah looked around to make sure his next words were out of earshot. “And please, stop calling me Mr. Cahoon. Izaiah will do just fine. I am not that much older than you.”

  “I agree. Mr. Cahoon sounds like my old professor at the academy.” Asia smiled teasingly, as she prepared to leave Izaiah’s presence. “There seems to be another group of women coming down the aisle to greet you. I will go before I get stampeded.”

  “That is not even remotely funny, Asia…” Izaiah began, but Asia had already turned her attention elsewhere.

  Izaiah realized that his heart was skipping beats again. No other woman had ever had that sort of effect on him. He turned away and tried not to read too much into whatever he was feeling for Asia.

  Chapter Twelve

  Asia paced the grounds of the church, stealthily looking for Jorge to pop his head from the shadows. They had agreed to meet at a particular spot, but after fifteen minutes of waiting, Asia knew something had gone awry. Jorge would never disappoint her this way. If he vowed to show up at a certain time, he would endeavor to keep his word. If Jorge had minutes on his cell phone, she would have tried contacting him, to find out what was going on. She, then, thought of using her car to make the four-mile trip to St. Elmo’s Valley, but she suddenly remembered that her father had taken her car keys away as a means to punish her for her supposed rebellion.

  Evidently, those options were not available to her, but that didn’t mean that she was about to give up trying to contact Jorge. Because of the stakes surrounding their relationship, their meetings had to be carefully contrived. If it happened that one of them could not meet at the designated spot, their alternative meeting place would always be at the straw market – the place where Jorge sold his handcrafted jewelry. Asia had ridden along with her mother to church that morning, but she did not intend to leave the grounds with her. There were more than enough ways to make things work in her favor.

  When Asia spotted Mother Daphine walking to her car, she held her head, pretending to have a splitting migraine. Mother Daphine did not live too far from the Beaufort’s estate in Crystal Bay, but Asia knew that Mother Daphine had to pass the straw market on her way home. It was the perfect setup.

  “Can I get a ride home, Mother Daphine,” Asia groaned. “I feel as if I’m about to die.”

  Mother Daphine dropped her huge bag on the driver’s seat and gave Asia her immediate attention. “What is wrong with you, child?”

  “Nothing serious, I hope,” Asia rubbed in. “I have a blinding headache and I think I need to lie down for a while.”

  “I left your mother sitting at the back of the church; do you need me to get her for you?”

  “No, I would rather you just take me home. My parents are known to hang around forever.” Asia grunted, as if she had suddenly experienced a sharp jab of pain. “I need to go now.”

  Mother Daphine wrinkled her forehead with concern. She was suspicious of Asia, too, because as long as she had known the family, Asia had never asked to be taken to the Beaufort’s estate. “Child, I don’t want you dying on my hands. It looks as if you need medical help. Headaches can be a sign of something serious.”

  “I know,” Asia agreed. “That’s why I need to go home and have Miss Rose look after me.”

  “Is Miss Rose a doctor?”

  “No, ma’am, but she would know what to do.”

  “I don’t fancy that,” Mother Daphine countered.

  Asia almost gave up on her pretending. If I knew it was going to be this hard, trying to convince the old geezer, I would have simply caught the public bus. But at the last minute, Mother Daphine seemed to pull back on some of her suspicion.

  “How will your mother know that I have taken you home?”

  Asia wanted to grin, but she squelched it and instead, showed Mother Daphine her cell phone. “I will call her the minute we leave,” she said. “God bless your heart, Mother Daphine. You are certainly a wonderful woman of God.”

  Asia climbed into the passenger seat, already fabricating in her mind her next move. She had succeeded in getting Mother Daphine to take her from the church; all she had to do was figure out a way to get the old woman to drop her off at the straw market, instead of taking her home as requested. In the meanwhile, Asia allowed thoughts of Jorge to add fuel to her playful gambits.

  ****

  Anwar leaned back and tossed his feet up on a bureau. He began to scan through some of the documents that the coach had given him at the swim club, but after a few minutes, he shoved the documents aside. He could not really get into it, not while his friend was sprawled on his mattress in battered form. About two hours ago, while on his way to Jorge’s house, Anwar found Jorge on the side of the road, twisting in pain. A brief inquiry revealed that Jorge had been assaulted by a company of men.

  But when Anwar suggested taking Jorge to the public hospital, Jorge resisted, mumbling that he did not want his parents to fret over what had happened to him. Their grief of poverty was hard enough to bear. Anwar, of course, was sick with worry, because he was not sure how serious Jorge’s condition was. But when Anwar saw how Jorge had worked himself to his feet, he thought that maybe Jorge’s injuries weren’t life threatening and that maybe a bag of ice would keep the swelling away.

  But by the time they’d made it to Anwar’s bedroom, Jorge’s left eye was swollen shut. He groaned constantly, and complained that his sides pained him. Anwar soon regretted listening to his friend. Suppose there was internal bleeding, or a couple of broken ribs that needed fixing? Anwar wouldn’t be able to live it down if Jorge’s condition suddenly deteriorated. There was no way he could keep Jorge locked up in his room forever, anyway. Their parents would eventually come snooping around and what would Jorge be able to say then?

  “Anwar…”

  Anwar jumped at Jorge’s weak call, not sure that Jorge had actually called him. He swung his feet off the bureau and inquired with a little reservation, “You awake?”

  “I wish I wasn’t,” Jorge moaned, remembering the sweet face of his precious Asia. Because of those heartless ruffians, he would probably never see her again. “I want to die. What can I do to speed up the process?”

  “Hey, man. Don’t talk that
morbid stuff around me. Tell me who did this to you.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Of course you know!” Anwar fired back. “You can’t tell me this doesn’t have anything to do with that Asia chick…”

  “Don’t refer to her that way,” Jorge hissed, which aroused a stream of painful coughs from his abdominal tract. He held his sides and made his face into a grimace. “Asia has class; remember that.”

  “You and your Asia,” Anwar said with feigned disdain, but his heart went out to his friend. Love seemed to be such a bittersweet experience. “I swear, that girl will be the end of you…and to think that I swam with her sister the other day. What a crazy coincidence that was, or, should I call it fate?”

  Jorge held his head now, more out of pain than from Anwar’s biting revelation. Asia did mention a little about her sisters, but right now, Jorge was a little fuzzy in trying to figure out which one was the swimmer and which one was the banker. The right eye that was less swollen, Jorge used to focus in on his friend’s animated visage. As far as he could discern, it did not seem as if Anwar was making the story up. Maybe, there is still a chance to see my Asia…

  “Those Beaufort girls are trouble, if you ask me,” Anwar continued fiercely. “They might be fine as hell, but they come with a whole lot of ammunition.” He turned swiftly to Jorge and then wagged a finger in his face. “But you are partly to blame, man. You should have left Asia alone when I told you to. Her father is out to put you out of your misery.”

  Jorge tried to sit up to respond, but ended up falling to one side. He gritted his teeth and screamed.

  “Man, that’s it! I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  Jorge shook his head and said dismissively, “It’ll get better in a few days.”

  “You sound as if you are in labor, man!” Anwar exclaimed. “I can’t take this screaming in my ear all night. I’m a dude who loves to sleep my full eight hours, and I’m not gonna let you mess that up for me.”

  “You’re always thinking about yourself, aren’t you?” Jorge teased. “You are not really concerned about me.”

  “Aw, man, don’t go getting mushy on me. I could have left you on the side of the road.”

  “Which one did you meet?” Jorge managed to get in, after a little chuckle.

  Anwar stopped in his stride, and faced his friend with a spark of incredulity. “Are you still thinking about those Beaufort girls, after one of them has almost cost you your life?”

  “I bet it won’t be the last time you will swim with Asia’s sister,” Jorge quipped. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Anwar. We are different in many ways, but we have similar taste in women. I can see that you’re actually ecstatic over your ‘good’ fortune. So just tell me, which one of Asia’s sisters did you meet?”

  Anwar couldn’t stop that subtle twitch, which soon lifted his lips into a mischievous smirk. “You don’t believe me, do you? That’s why you’re asking me to tell you her name.”

  “I’m inquiring because I need you to cut me a favor,” Jorge said. “Is it Dallis or Candi?”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “Because it will determine if my message will get into Asia’s ear, without her father finding out about it.”

  Anwar smiled perceptively, “Three sisters that look alike, but their personalities are like night and day. That is some terribly interesting information – helps me better with my choosing. Well, to put your mind at ease, the mystery woman is none other than the gorgeous Dallis Beaufort…she acts as if she isn’t, but I could tell she knows.”

  Jorge’s expression fell a bit. “I had a feeling. Asia calls her goody two shoes. She is a strict Christian, who does everything by the book. She will not help me communicate with Asia.”

  Anwar frowned as if Jorge was referring to a completely different person. “I didn’t get that impression from Dallis…she seemed nice…then again, it just might be my sexy swagger that disarmed that side of her.”

  Jorge sighed. “You must try to help me, Anwar. Asia and I were scheduled to meet at church, but of course, I was intercepted. I don’t want her to worry. She needs to know that I am all right.”

  Anwar paced away from Jorge, his thoughts shifting a million miles a minute. “I don’t know if I can do that, my friend.”

  “Why not?” Jorge spat. “I’m not asking you to break into the Beaufort’s estate to rescue Asia from that tyranny.”

  “Because,” Anwar explained, as he turned to set his eyes on Jorge. “If Dallis discovers that I’m friends with you, she will figure out that I am from St. Elmo’s Valley. I don’t want to blow my cover – not when I have just walked through the gates of affluence.”

  Jorge grew silent for a minute, and tried to absorb what his friend had just said to him. When Anwar mentioned that he’d had a plan to get out of St. Elmo’s Valley, Jorge hadn’t anticipated that Anwar would have moved with such decisiveness. Wanting to include Asia’s sister in his ploy rattled Jorge more than the disgust of his friend’s greed. Jorge turned his head to the side and let out another sigh, clearly disappointed over the path that Anwar had chosen to tread.

  “I can’t believe you would mistreat me for the sake of money, Anwar. We did not grow up like that. Being manipulative as a means to get what we want out of life is not the way to go. Too much of that is going on in Bliss Haven. Why do you want to become a part of that disgusting trend anyway?”

  Anwar kept his gaze fastened on Jorge, seeming not to be moved by Jorge’s admonition. “Because I am fed up with never having enough, Jorge and if there’s an opportunity for me to improve my condition, you better believe that I am going after it. Now, I’m sorry that doesn’t sit well with you, man, but I desperately need a change.”

  “But at what cost?”

  Anwar shrugged. There was nothing Jorge or anyone else could say that would deter his mind from doing what he wanted to do. “I’ll be back. I’m gonna make you some lemonade.”

  “Remember, without integrity,” Jorge tossed at Anwar as he left through the door, “nothing good can come out of your dealings with Dallis.”

  “We shall see, my friend,” Anwar retorted casually. “We shall see.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was a remarkable fact that Dana had not started out wanting to become a paint artist. When she married Gregory at the age of twenty-three, she had recently completed a bachelor’s degree in English, and was focusing her attention on becoming a junior high instructor. At the time, Gregory was already deeply involved in the church and much of their first year of marriage was spent building Gregory’s dream to move up the ranks in the ecclesiastical arena. Her husband was good at what he did and it wasn’t long before the powers that be recognized her husband’s persistence.

  They had lived in Wisconsin and life was comfortable, as Dana remembered. She was excited about her husband’s future and did not think it was unusual for a young wife to give up her dream as an English instructor. At least until Gregory had settled into what he was going after. In the third year of their marriage, she became pregnant with Candi – their eldest child. It was at that time when Gregory announced that he had been offered an influential position by the church’s leaders. Dana brimmed with joy, only to have it crushed when Gregory told her that they would have to migrate to the Caribbean.

  A very lofty move, which meant more money and more exposure, but Dana was not certain of the opportunities that a small island would present. But she loved Gregory deeply and would have done anything for him back then. Three months after Candi was born, the family moved to Bliss Haven. Upon arrival to the estate that the church had paid for, Dana suddenly realized how prestigious her husband’s position truly was. It was hard not to fall in love with Bliss Haven.

  With its sandy, white beaches, along with its luxurious foliage set against a clear blue, sky, calling Bliss Haven home would be quite easy. The people on the island were amazingly receptive, as Dana recalled. The first time that Gregory had stood behind the podi
um in St. Donovan’s Chapel, the building was jam-packed with people, eager to hear what their new Bishop had to say. Dana sat in the front pew, proud of her husband. She knew then that she would remain at her husband’s side. His dreams would become her dreams.

  So, when Dana drove into the market square to purchase some supplies for her paint gallery that afternoon, it quickly dawned on her that she was slowly becoming unhinged from her husband’s successes. For a long time, she had heavily depended on Gregory’s position with the Episcopal Church as a way to define her professional identity. Ironically, the joy she’d had working side by side with her husband began to wane as the years rolled by. Gregory had become very powerful in Bliss Haven and everyone seemed to want a piece of him.

  He met with government officials regularly, as plans for the church grew. Then the community meetings followed, along with a cluster of other events that Dana could not keep up with. Some of the meetings supported a strong showing of testosterone that would make the most liberal woman uncomfortable. Soon, Dana was beginning to be left out of the picture, which forced her to focus on becoming a housewife. By then, she and Gregory were the parents of three pre-teen girls and although Miss Rose had been very helpful in raising the girls, Dana needed something to replace the emptiness she’d felt.

  As Gregory’s time spent at home became less and less, Dana’s heart grew lonely, to the point where she would have sustaining bouts of depression throughout the day. When she was with the girls, she didn’t focus on it, but as soon as they were off to school, there was nothing left for Dana to do, except lose herself in her itinerant thoughts. But Dana was a very studious person. She also had an artistic nature, being able to see things as they ‘did’ look and not as they ‘should’ look.