That night by the pool, playing for my family had been a glorious, almost indescribable joy. I had isolated myself from my past so much so that even my beloved brother never saw me play for fun. He’d only seen me in arenas and the occasional studio with others around. This whole experience over the past two months reminded me that I had to do better by my family.
The throbbing increased, and I closed my eyes tight. I probably needed to see a doctor about them again. It had been a few years since I was diagnosed with chronic migraines. I pushed up from the sofa, still holding my guitar, to get some relief. I would only drink a glass and pop one pill. That should be enough to ease the tension so I can sleep.
Headlights flashed across my wide window. Only Peace knew I was here. I pulled my cell from my pocket. No messages or calls.Shit.I hadn’t yet learned how to use my phone to look at my security cameras. The viewing screens were toward the back of the house. I didn’t have the time or patience for a crazed fan or journalist.
I stayed clear of any windows as I approached the door, grateful I had decided to shade the glass panes on either side of the large double doors. It was a dark SUV that I didn’t recognize.I scanned the space behind me, searching for a potential weapon if I needed. Maurice stayed on me about being loose with security, and my gun was upstairs in my bedroom.
Then the door opened, and Jamaica hopped out of the backseat and hurried around to the other side. “What? Why is she here?”
Stunned, I opened the door, and a slow-moving Jamie and Jamaica walked towards me. The driver rolled down the window, and a strange woman peeked out. “Oh my God, Freedom Cade?”
Shaking my head, I said, “I get that all the time. I need to make money pretending to be him.”
Jamaica and Jamie laughed as the woman replied, “You really need to. It’s uncanny.”
“I heard that too.” I waved my hand to her. “Thank you. We’ll leave you a nice tip.”
Her smile grew wider. “Thank you.”
I met them halfway and wrapped my arms around them both. The woman blew her horn and backed out of the drive.
Jamie pulled back first. “Mama said that you probably wanted me to still spend the night.”
“I do.” I ruffled his twists. I didn’t look at Jamaica. Too afraid I would break down and cry if I did. I needed my son tonight. Proof that he was still alive, well, and mine.
“And I needed to sleep under the same roof as my son, so you have both of us tonight,” Jamaica said, giving me Jamie’s book bag to hold.
“You mean, the same bed with me?” Jamie teased.
“Yes.” She kissed his cheek. “You scared us today.”
He rolled his eyes, but didn’t reply as we approached the house. Jamie was a typical boy who believed he was invincible, which made me smile brighter.
“I’m just glad you’re here with me.” I opened the door wide for them to pass and noticed the bottle and pills too late. “Um…it’s only a little after nine. I can order something or cook something. You must be hungry.”
Jamie walked past the table without much regard, admiring the hall and living area of the five-bedroom house. “I like this house. Is it okay if I stay here tomorrow instead of going home in the morning? The doctor said I needed to take the day off.”
“Yes. You can stay with me the rest of the week if it’s okay with your mama. It’s only two days left in school, and I didn’t have any particular plans except to pick out horses to buy for the new house.” I rubbed my hands together in anticipation of sharing that experience with Jamie, hoping that Jamaica could tell by my alertness I hadn’t had a drink or used any pills. “You can come with me.”
Jamie grinned. “Never picked out horses.”
I shrugged. “You will now.”
“Sounds fun.” He suddenly yawned. “Um…what do you have to eat that’s here?”
Jamaica marched ahead of us. “I can find something to put together. I’m sure you had someone bring you groceries.” She looked at me, her expression unreadable. “Show him his room and help him get settled. Give him something to wear so he can shower. Once food is ready, I’ll bring him food.”
Yep. She pissed.
About twenty minutes later, I wandered back into the kitchen where she’d made BLTs on wheat for us. I went into the pantry and brought out a tray to carry to Jamie’s room. “He’s barely hanging on. I can take the food to him.”
She slammed the glass on the counter and poured lemonade into a glass.
“I guess that’s a ‘yes’?” I placed the folding tray underneath my arm and carried the plate in my hand.
“I’ll bring the lemonade. You can’t carry it all,” she replied tersely. “I’m staying with him until he eats and goes to sleep. Then we need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.” I gestured at her face using the plate. “Not with all this. Too tired for anger. We can talk tomorrow. You need rest, and I guarantee you’re going to be watching him like a hawk all night.”
