Shattered Dreams - Book 1: Behind Closed Doors Series Page 8

  The days she would lay in her bed alone and just stare at the wall, allowed her to notice varying degrees of patterns. She would then look at the wood her dressers were made out of and noticed the swirls and mixed shades and soon, this sort of thing became a habit. It wasn’t long before she decided to do something about it. She went to the local store and purchased an easel and some paints, just sufficient supplies that would be enough for her to experiment on her burgeoning ideas. She would go to the park and sit on a bench, observing everything around her.

  No two people were alike; no two leaves were the same. The position of the sun when it shone, the uneven blades in the grass, the shadows of certain objects. Dana began to see that ‘art’ was everywhere. She took out her easel and began to experiment. Two years later, when Asia had celebrated her fifteenth birthday, Dana sold her first painting for two hundred dollars. She, of course, was elated. She had regained some measure of sense to her life. That first sale opened the door for many others to be sold. Eventually, she moved her showpieces from the estate and rented a space in town. She’d had the art gallery for almost four years now and business was exceptionally good.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Beaufort. How are you doing today?”

  Dana placed the various shades of acrylics on the countertop and gave the seventy-year-old cashier an earnest smile. “Hello, Wendy. I’m good, thank you. I just came to gather a few supplies.”

  “A few?” the old woman parroted. “Doesn’t look so to me. That little business of yours has surely taken off, hasn’t it?”

  “It all seems so surreal to me,” Dana said. “I suppose we all have a little something in us that people want to buy.”

  “You can bet that’s right, girlie. All of us were born with a talent or two. It’s a pity I never knew what mines were.” Wendy cackled and then slowly slipped on a pair of glasses. She began to ring up Dana’s items, moving as deliberately as a snail. “Let’s see what you have here…four acrylic paints…cadmium red…azo yellow…phthalo blue…and…burnt umber…two filbert brushes…and one palette knife…”

  Dana shifted her weight to the other foot, wondering why Wendy always read off everything while she rang up her customer’s items. It was a good thing that she wasn’t in a rush or else she would have told Wendy to have them shipped to the art gallery. Finally, Wendy gave Dana her change and with quick strides, Dana exited the store. The skies were clear, but the sun was spanking hot, which caused Dana to add a little more speed to her stride. She couldn’t wait to make it back to her Mercedes, where she would blast the air conditioning in her face.

  “Mrs. Beaufort, wait up a sec!”

  Dana froze. She could recognize that cultured tone if she was fifty feet under the ocean. She did not turn for fear that her pounding heart would fall out of her chest. A young, muscular male in a Dickies overall, brought his steps in front of Dana. When he showed her that dimply grin, her heart had gone from pounding to a puddle of water. It was Chazz Brunswick, her former gardener – the reason why she and Gregory had been sleeping in separate beds for the last three years.

  “Chazz,” Dana could barely look at him without remembering what they did. “It has been a long time.”

  “I know, but when I saw you coming out of the store,” Chazz paused, as if trying to be prudent with his words. He took off his straw hat and then swiped his tongue over his luscious lips. It was an unconscious habit that had always pushed Dana’s thoughts into ungodly places. “I just wanted to say hi and that I’m sorry for the way things turned out. Well, the truth is, I have been wanting to talk to you about your husband.”

  Chazz’s nervousness made him ramble on, especially because of the way Dana was staring at him with those bedroom eyes. He had secretly followed her here from her art gallery, hoping his little ruse would pay off. And since they had been intimate at the deepest level, he couldn’t figure out why his nerves were embarrassing him like this. “I work for myself now, doing a little landscaping whenever someone calls. It doesn’t pay a whole heap of money, but it pays the bills. I’m here to get some soil…strange that we ran into each other like this –”

  “What do you have to say about my husband?”

  “Can we talk somewhere in private?”

  “I don’t think that is a good idea.”

  “Mrs. Beaufort, don’t make me beg…”

  Hearing Chazz called her Mrs. Beaufort only reminded Dana of the disgrace she had brought to her family. Even though they’d had sex multiple times in various rooms of her home, Chazz still referred to her as if he hadn’t lost any respect for her. It was this charming, innocent feature that had initially drawn Dana to him. That day when Gregory brought him on staff, Dana hadn’t any idea that he would become her eye candy.

  When Gregory left the house in the mornings, Dana would go to the window and watch Chazz work the garden in overalls – the sleeveless ones that showed how ripped his body was. His black skin would glisten in the sun, awakening those shameless desires that Dana should have only felt for her husband. Even now, as she fought to keep her thoughts sanctified, Chazz’s black skin was glistening in the hot sun. His lips were moist and his eyes were soft and respectful. The plastic frames over his eyes gave him an even younger and more appealing look.

  Chazz was the kind of man that a woman would want to bring home to meet her parents. But there was an animalistic side to Chazz that Dana knew all too well. He hid it behind those boyish features and that peaceful demeanor, but behind closed doors, Chazz had made her consider leaving Gregory during those sinful sessions. She, however, would quickly come to her senses when she realized that Chazz was three years younger than her oldest daughter. The sex was powerful, but the guilt was bone crushing.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Mrs. Beaufort,” Chazz said, prompting Dana back to the present. “Your husband is a monster.”

  Dana looked around to make sure no one was within earshot of their conversation. “It’s water under the bridge, Chazz. Why dredge it up now?”

  “Because I still care about you and I hate how I ruined your life.”

  “Well, I’m getting on just fine. Gregory has found a way to live with it and I think you should follow suit.” Dana walked around him, trying not to let Chazz see the way he was affecting her. Being so close to him was enough for her to renege on the promise she had made to God. A boy, who could be her son, had offset her sanctified equilibrium. “Excuse me, I want to get out of this hot sun.”

  “Mrs. Beaufort,” Chazz called behind her. “I’m sorry…please know that I am truly sorry…can I call you sometime?”

  “That’s not a good idea, Chazz. I am done with that part of my life.”

  Dana pressed the fob to her Mercedes, unlocking the doors. She climbed in and tossed the art supplies in the passenger seat. She reversed next to him, but wanted nothing more than to peel out of the parking lot. When she was at a safe distance, she eased her car to the side of the road. First came the tears and then the angry outburst. Why did she have to suffer this way? She was stuck in a marriage with a husband who didn’t want to have sex with her. Then Chazz showed up out of the blue, acting as if he still cared about her.

  Dana was livid. It had been three years. She wondered how Gregory had been able to pacify his flesh. There had to be times when his body felt as if it were on fire. Dana knew her husband. His sexual appetite had not waned overnight. If he wasn’t sleeping with her, Dana was almost certain that he was sleeping with someone else. She was angry enough to put her pride aside and stalk her husband’s every move, because she did not deserve to be deprived of the one thing a wife needed from her husband. Dana dropped her head in a quick prayer, which was less heartfelt than one she’d prayed that morning.

  Lord, help me not to do anything stupid…

  Chapter Fourteen

  When Dallis Beaufort arrived at home that evening, she was surprised to see that no one was downstairs in the kitchen. Usually, Miss Rose would be shuffling back and forth with trays of food, but
there was no such activity to be seen. Flummoxed, she dropped her swim bag on the hardwood floor and stared out at the openness of the grand living room. Soon, a little smile crept on her face. Through the glass of the French doors, Dallis could see her father, bending his head in amusement. She wondered what it was that tickled him, when it seemed he had little to be happy about these last three years he’d been married to her mother.

  Dallis and her sisters were well aware of the rift in their parents’ relationship. But they all walked around and pretended as if the situation would heal itself. Her parents were two of the most stubborn people she knew, refusing to fully forgive one another for their mistakes. Dallis had done what she could to help her parents reconcile, but she grimly realized that infidelity was a powerful demon, which made it near to impossible to restore trust. The poisonous venom of infidelity had not only destroyed her parents’ marriage vows, but also the communication in the entire family. They were barely tolerant of one another. Dallis believed if they got that issue sorted out, the hardest part of the battle would be won.

  Wanting to join her father on the veranda, Dallis filed her troubled thoughts away and pushed the French doors open. She did not expect to see three additional men sitting on the opposite side of her father. Two of them were dressed in white shirts and black ties – their faces alive with conversation. Dallis’ suspicion came alive as it always did whenever she saw her father with a group of men. They were always young and good looking, and always seemed to be reveling in her father’s presence. Maybe her father was doing ‘things’ with them that he should only be doing with her mother. She would be lying if the thought hadn’t crossed her mind more than once. Immediately, her father stood to greet her.

  “Dallis!” Gregory announced, moving gleefully toward her. “I am so proud of you – the fastest swimmer that Bliss Haven will ever know.”

  Dallis gave a little coy smile, already making plans to retreat.

  “Don’t be bashful, my daughter,” Gregory said. He then gestured toward the table at the men. “This is Peter, one of our community representatives, and this is his right hand man, Herman. And this fine young man is Izaiah Cahoon. He was recently installed as the youth minister of St. Donovan’s Chapel.”

  “So I heard,” Dallis said. She didn’t focus too much on Peter and his right hand man. She was staring at Izaiah, trying to guess his age. He didn’t seem to be a day over nineteen years old, but she assumed he was older. Her father wouldn’t have handed such a heavy responsibility to a kid.

  “…I wanted you to meet Izaiah sooner,” Gregory was saying, “but we kept missing you.”

  Dallis said laconically, “I’m sorry, but I’ve been training in the pools all week…I thought Mom would have passed on the message.”

  “You know your mother forgets everything,” Gregory said with a dismissive air. “But I assumed you would be spending a lot of time at the swim club. A competition is coming up, is it not?”

  That question generated a smile on Dallis’ face. “It starts tomorrow, at ten in the morning,” she beamed. “Will you be there to watch me race?”

  “Of course!” Gregory exclaimed. “Izaiah and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Izaiah noticed a wilt in Dallis’ expression. He quickly gathered that Dallis was expecting Gregory to bring along his wife, and not someone she had just met for the first time in her life. Dallis’ expression reminded Izaiah a little of Asia. They were strikingly similar, but there were still distinct differences between the two. Asia appeared to be a maxi-dress type of girl, whereas Dallis appeared to be a t-shirt and jeans type of girl. And whereas Asia kept her tresses fluffed against her back, Dallis seemed to keep her tresses pulled into a tight ponytail, which plainly showed her complexion – a shade darker than Asia’s. Izaiah guessed it had to do with the sport, but otherwise, he was greatly impressed by the sister’s flawless beauty.

  “Where is everyone else?” Dallis inquired. “The kitchen is empty.”

  Gregory shrugged. “I have been in a meeting with these men for the last two hours. Are you hungry?”

  “No, I’m good. The house just seems so quiet, that’s all.” Not wishing for her father to continue cosseting her, Dallis began to retreat into the living room. She offered him a reassuring smile and said, “Well, I’ll let you get back to your meeting. It was nice meeting all of you…pleasant evening.”

  Dallis pulled the French doors shut, and hastened out of the view of the men. She could feel their eyes on her – an unsettling experience she’d had to deal with ever since she hit puberty. Everywhere that she and her sisters went, men stared at them as if they were a scrumptious plate of food. Candi loved it, Asia handled it, but Dallis simply hated it. When she was not in the pools, she wore baggy clothes, which she hoped would act as a deterrent to such perverted scrutiny. Her body was the temple of the Lord and she was careful not to be the cause of anyone’s sin.

  ****

  Asia heard a little noise in the hall outside her bedroom. Hoping that it was Dallis getting in from the swim club, Asia hopped out of her bed. Because her nerves had been jumpy all night, she hadn’t been able to sleep a wink. Where was Jorge Bentley? A question Asia had been chewing over ever since she’d gotten Mother Daphine to drop her off at the straw market. Even though the vendors were afraid of Gregory and the far-reaching effects of his influence, Asia had become good friends with some of them. So she knew if she asked them to tell her the truth, they would do so in a heartbeat.

  None of them, however, had seen Jorge and in response, all of Asia’s fears were magnified. She stumbled back to the estate in confusion. Her mind kept replaying the night when her father’s men had chased Jorge off the property with their guns. Maybe, she thought, they had gone back to finish the job. As terrifying as that scenario was, Asia knew she couldn’t allow herself to focus on it, because it would send her tripping out of her mind. Her heart had never felt this way about another person in her entire brief life.

  Asia tapped on Dallis’ bedroom door, twisting the doorknob at the same time. Her sister had just pulled her t-shirt over her head, exposing her brassiere. Dallis protested her sister’s entry, but Asia had already closed the door behind her.

  “That’s a very bad habit you have, Asia,” Dallis scolded. “I could have been walking around naked.”

  “Then you should lock your door,” Asia countered. “Besides, you don’t have anything that I haven’t already seen a thousand times. We used to bathe together, remember?”

  “That was before puberty, Asia. As an adult, I cherish my privacy.”

  Asia let out a quick sigh, not in the mood to tussle with her sister about old memories. She jumped right into her perturbations over Jorge’s lack of communication. “I need to talk to you…do you have a few minutes?”

  Dallis stared at Asia warily, her expression appearing in her tone, “Is this about Jorge?”

  “Am I that transparent?”

  “No, but you have not been acting like yourself ever since you started seeing that boy.”

  “Why does everyone refer to him as ‘that boy’? Jorge Bentley is one of the most respectable men I’ve ever met.”

  “Apparently, you haven’t met that many,” Dallis quipped. “If Jorge is as respectable as you claim, then he shouldn’t have been caught in the toolshed with you. Those are very sneaky actions, if you ask me.”

  Asia watched as Dallis turned her back and slid into a pair of cotton pajamas. “What do you expect us to do?” she inquired sorely. “Daddy won’t let us spend any time together.”

  “Maybe Daddy has his reasons.”

  “You sound just like the rest of them,” Asia spat. “Just because Jorge doesn’t have a lot of money, it doesn’t make him the wrong man for me. I know if Candi was here, she would be on my side.”

  Dallis turned to face her sister, “Then why are in my room, Asia, if my advice to you doesn’t mean anything? And of course Candi would be on your side. Her morals are more unstable than water
when it comes to men.”

  Asia softened her approach by walking over to Dallis’ bed, edging the mattress with her buttocks. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I am just so worried about Jorge. We were supposed to meet at the church yesterday and if he couldn’t make it, we agreed to always meet at an alternative location.”

  “I’m guessing he didn’t show at all,” Dallis said.

  “No.”

  Dallis took a seat next to Asia on the bed, and genuinely tried to understand her sister’s dilemma. “How long have you been seeing Jorge?”

  “Officially? Four months. We just talked a little before that.”

  “Asia, four mouths is hardly enough time to throw yourself to the wind – for anyone. It means you may have to give up some of your dreams, your family, your friends – is Jorge even a Christian, which I think is the most important aspect in all of this drama?”

  “You make it seem as if I don’t have a clue of what I’m getting into,” Asia said defensively. “I love Jorge and he loves me. Now, as far as his faith is concerned, he is in better condition than I am. Because he was the one that prevented us from having sex in that toolshed, not Miss Rose.”

  “Miss Rose said you were practically naked.”

  “That big mouth maid is good with exaggeration. I took my blouse off because I was hot in that toolshed. Jorge never took advantage of me. He says he wants us to marry and then consummate. If that isn’t Christian, I don’t know what is.”

  “I’ve never seen you so determined, Asia and honestly, it frightens me.”

  Asia gave her sister a defiant look. “Whenever Jorge proposes to me, I’m going to tell him yes. We talk about being married all the time. There isn’t anything anyone can do about it. Not Daddy, not Mom, not anyone.”