The Guardian (23 page)

Within a bullet’s reach of her children.
       A cellphone sounded. Dawn removed it from her jean pocket. The display read:
PHILIP.
       “Aren’t you gonna answer that?”  Amos asked sarcastically.
       Dawn looked at him, but she couldn’t say a word.  Fear and shock marred her ability to think clearly.  She just kept staring at him, watching his every move as if anticipating he’d pull a gun at any minute or even a knife.  She recalled how much she’d despised him for allowing her to get caught up in the sting operation.  How’d he’d left her to fend for herself.  She remembered telling him she wished he were dead and that if he wasn’t killed in prison, she’d do it herself.  
       Where was that courage now? 
       Amos knew he’d caught her off guard.  She hadn’t received Lydia’s warning.   Didn’t know she’d better watch her back.  At least, from Amos Jones.   
       “Who’s that man, Momma?” Christopher asked.  “Do you know him?”
       As though she’d been suspended in time and her son’s voice yanked her back to present day, she gasped and held her children closer and said, “I-I don’t know, baby,” Dawn stuttered and gave Amos a pair of eyes that screamed a thousand words at the highest possible decibel.
       Anxious to move past Amos with her children at her side, she became clumsy instead and dropped her purse, the contents scattering and rolling on the floor between them.  And when she leaned over to retrieve the items, she noticed his old tattered shoes, wrinkled Docker pants with frilled edges from too many washes, the gleam of oily sweat above his brow.  One swift kick to her face would send her reeling back with pain against the counter, topple Sierra from her arms, Mason and Christopher would be within his reach.
       In his hands.
       But instead, Amos stepped on a tube of lipstick and as he stooped to pick it up, he met her gaze face-to-face and grunted.  “Don’t look so happy to see me, you bitch,” he whispered and he was so close, she could smell the stink of his breath, unclean and tart.  Probably hadn’t brushed his teeth in days.
       “Cute kids.”  Amos ruffled Sierra’s bushy hair with his dirty hands then squatted in front of Mason and added, “Where you off to, lil’ fella?  Going to visit grandma and grandpa?”
       Mason’s fearful eyes stared back, then Christopher took a protective step in front of him before Dawn could make a move.  Blocking Amos’ view of his sibling, he demanded, “Don’t talk to my brother – “  Suddenly, his eyes filled with excitement and surprise.  “Daddy! Daddy!” 
       Mason and Christopher ran around Amos and into Philip’s open arms.
       Amos gave Dawn a look and darted through the crowd toward baggage claim.
       “How are my little soldiers? Mommy taking you to see Mimi?” Philip asked the kids happily, yet he could see then anxiety in Dawn’s face.  Something was wrong. 
       “We’re getting on the big airplane! You coming, Daddy? You coming?” Mason shouted.
       With Mason in his arms and Christopher by his side, Philip walked up to Dawn with an apologetic look.  “I don’t want to fight anymore. I want my family back.”
       Tears streamed down Dawn’s face.  She wanted her family, too, but knew once she told him she was carrying Nicoli’s baby, he’d leave for good this time.
       “I don’t care about the past.  If I have to spend the rest of my life proving it to you, I will. I just want us to be together.  I want us to make this marriage work.”
       “There’s something I think you should know –“
       He placed a finger on her lips, silencing her.  “Shh.  Nothing you can tell me will ever tear us apart.”  He knew about the affair.  Had evidence she’d been with another man.  But he hadn’t been honest either.  The woman he’d been seeing was a travel nurse.  A single travel nurse, but no one could compare to the love he had for Dawn. 
       Dawn shook her head ‘yes’ and enveloped him in a hug, wrapping an arm around his neck, returning his kiss. Her arms suddenly stiffened as travelers applauded around the happy family.  Holding Sierra protectively to her bosom, she pushed away gently, looking around, desperately searching for Amos Jones in the crowd.
       She spotted him high up on the escalator staring back at her.  He ran a finger across his throat.  That’s when she caught a glimpse of another familiar face at the top of the escalator.
       Nearing the landing, Amos came face-to-face with Elizabeth Greenwood who was blocking his exit like a brick wall off the mechanically moving steps.  His face whitened with terror.  He saw death in her face.  His own death in her eyes.  That’s when he lost his balance. 
       But he didn’t trample over anyone to get away from her.  Not one smidgen.
       As if invisible arms and hands had forcefully picked him up and threw him there, Amos Jones, kicking and screaming, plunged like a rag doll over the handrail, free falling to the ground below, connecting with a gruesome thud.
       Screams belted from the bustling crowd below and bewildered passengers on the escalator glared over the edge in panic. The chaos around his corpse built like a storm.  A swarm of airport security and other personnel were rushing toward the contorted body, yelling into walkie talkies and demanding everyone to step back. 
       Dawn buried her face into her husband’s protective embrace.
       Holding the little girl’s hand, Elizabeth disappeared into thin air as Alisa waved goodbye at Philip.
                                                                        ¤     ¤     ¤
       The airplane had ascended above thirty thousand feet and the flight attendants were preparing to make their rounds throughout the cabin.  Dawn surely could use a stiff drink or even a chardonnay, but she was pregnant and the last thing she wanted to do was harm the baby. 
       Nicoli’s unborn child.
       “Would you like water, tea or orange juice, ma’am?” the male attendant asked with his back turned to her as he rummaged a plastic cup through an ice bucket.
       Why wasn’t he offering her an adult beverage?  She was barely six weeks pregnant.  She’d made no one aware of her condition.
       The server turned to face her and when she saw him, she nearly panicked. 
       Nicoli stared at her with the gorgeous smile she remembered.  Adored.
       Working from the food cart, he said: “I never meant to hurt you, darling.  I wanted nothing more than to love you for the rest of my life.  Take care of our baby.  I love you.” He sat a cold bottle of water on her tray, followed by an orange juice and a packet of pretzels, then moved to the next row of passengers behind her.
       Dawn startled awake, frightening two little old ladies sitting across the aisle from where she was seated.  She apologized quietly and offered that she’d had a nightmare and was afraid of flying.  The elderly women understood quickly and offered her a variety of homemade remedies and some hot tea.   
       A sea of multi-colored lights flashed thousands of feet below. Las Vegas gradually faded away into the darkness.
       Sierra slept soundly in Dawn’s lap.  She didn’t wake nor did she stir during the short burst of excitement.   She seemed to be having pleasant dreams of her own.   Although he was dozing off, Mason sat in the seat next to Dawn playing a game on a handheld device.  He wore a pair of large puffy earphones, almost covering the sides of his toddler head. Cuddled up in blankets in a pair of seats behind her, Philip and Christopher slept soundly.
       She glanced out the window for a few moments and saw raindrops landing on the small pane, then closed the shade.  And when she looked over at Mason again, she saw that he’d fallen fast asleep and the game was still going in his lap – asteroids were careening over the fighter jet and bullets shot aimlessly into space.  She settled him comfortably in the seat, removed the earphones, and pulled a blanket over him and closed her eyes.

Epilogue

2011

“I have bone cancer,” Sylvia’s voice wavered when she telephoned Dawn with the dismal news. 
       Upon hearing the word ‘cancer’ slip from her mother’s lips, she felt her heart quiver inside her chest.  Her knees seemed to buckle beneath her and the room began to spin.  This couldn’t be happening.
       Not to Sylvia. 
       Not to her mother. 
       Dawn knew what it meant for someone to have cancer.  The outcome was never good; unless, they’d been one of the fortunate few like her father to beat the evil disease, but from her mother’s tone, she knew, just knew her Sylvia wouldn’t be so lucky.
       Dawn was living in Las Vegas when Edward was diagnosed with prostate cancer.  She wasn’t aware of the procedures, weekly doctor visits, the surgeries, so her mind wandered and her conscious played the most evil tricks on her -- made her question everything and everyone, especially the doctors and the drugs they prescribed.
       What was next?  Chemotherapy.  And lots of it.  Blood transfusions.  Loss of appetite.  Depression … 
       And guilt.
       Dawn’s guilt.  For not spending more time with her mother when she had the chance.  She wanted to be there during the chemo treatments, but life always seemed to get in the way.  Not to mention her daily spats with Philip and the arguments of who would have the kids one week to the next.
       But she vowed to make up for it.

       She dropped everything and rushed to her mother’s side at the hospital where she remained for two weeks, pacing the halls, questioning the doctors, and forgetting about everything and everyone else.  Nothing was more important than being with Sylvia.  
       But at the end of those two weeks, Dawn received the news she’d dreaded since the word ‘cancer’ escape her mother’s lips: “The chemo isn’t working,” the oncologist said.  “You’re welcome to leave her here, but I recommend taking her home where she can be comfortable.” And with tears in his eyes, he added.  “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing more I can do for her.”
There’s nothing more I can do for her … There’s nothing more I can do for her
… his words seemed to echo up and down the halls of the hospital, surrounded her like a shroud of suffocating smoke … like … death.
       Buckets of tears poured from Dawn’s eyes.  Every part of her wanted to scream and kick and punch … and die.
       Sylvia was going to die.   
       God, why?
       The most she had was a week.  Maybe two.  And when the ambulance transported her home for hospice care, torrential rains poured, flooding half the city, damaging hundreds of homes, yet nothing could compare to the darkness and regret Dawn felt. 
       She looked back on her life and all she saw were the sins she’d committed against herself, Philip… God. 
       That’s why Sylvia was dying, she’d concluded.  Sylvia’d been the anchor in Dawn’s life.  And God was taking her away to punish her.  Dawn would soon sink.  She’d committed so many sins in her life, she didn’t have a chance in hell to be happy ever again.
       Then there was Nyla.  Dawn and Nicoli’s love child.  She was more beautiful than any jewel known to man.  Her emerald green eyes sparkled like diamonds and her smile could light up the darkest sky.  She had her father’s wavy hair and his golden complexion.  And every time Dawn looked at her daughter, she saw … Nicoli – the main reason she felt her life was in shambles.  She could regret the affair, but she would never regret her child.  Sylvia and Edward loved her just as much as they’d loved her other kids.  Of course, they weren’t the happiest about the affair, or when she told them she was pregnant, but they accepted the fact and as they always had, remained the same loving parents they’d always been. 
       When Dawn and Philip returned to Louisiana back in 2005, she couldn’t keep her pregnancy a secret.  Not because she hadn’t planned on telling him or due to the morning sickness, but because she wanted to have the child.  And as much as he wanted to make their marriage work, Philip filed for divorce and full custody of their three children. But the kids didn’t want to be with him.  They wanted to be with their mother. If that didn’t hurt him enough, she never told him about the money, but agreed that if he would let her keep the kids, she would not file child support; however, Christopher, Mason and Sierra didn’t truly understand their mother’s decision to have a child with a man other than their father, but as time went on, they grew to love Nyla.  But hearing the heated arguments between Dawn and Philip didn’t help matters.  They were old enough to understand that
she
was the reason Momma and Daddy were yelling and screaming, and it only heightened the grief and hindered the relationship with both of their parents. 
       Dawn fell into a depression when Sylvia’s condition worsened, then one day, she thought about Anne -- the lady who prayed for her when she was in jail in Houston.  The lady with the magic candles.  But, she couldn’t remember where Anne lived.
       Sixteen years had passed, but Dawn knew she had to find her.  Dawn’d named Sierra after Anne and Sylvia:  Sierra Anne-Marie.  Marie was Sylvia’s middle name. 
       When Dawn finally found her, Anne was still living in the same house she and Sylvia visited upon her release from Harris County Jail.  She remembered the shrine in the living room and the encased charcoal drawing of Jesus with an actual tear streaming down his cheek.  She wondered if it were real.  Pondered if Anne was indeed the praying woman CNN and other major news networks reported her to be.  She claimed the Virgin Mary Mother of God wrote prayers of forgiveness through her.  She even showed them a few.  Remarkable, she thought then, but just how true were they? She thought now.  She was losing her faith.  Sylvia’s sickness was proof; she’d never be happy again.
       Anne didn’t remember Dawn nor did she remember Sylvia or the story about the candle turning black, then back to its original white form.  As Dawn rambled on and on that her mother was sick and that she needed to come quickly, Anne just looked at her like she was a beggar on the street corner with a sign that read
WILL WORK FOR FOOD
.  Nothing the girl said was making any sense -- Anne was in a coma all of 1995 after suffering a severe brain injury from a head-on collision with a drunk driver.  Her husband and son attested to the fact as they too listened intently to Dawn’s story.
                                                                        ¤     ¤     ¤
       Her parents’ home appeared smaller and junkier than the last time she and the kids visited, as if it became a wrinkled, hoarding old woman.  She’d grew up in this house.  Her parents had it built when she was just four years old.  Walking up the driveway with Sierra on her hip, Mason and Christopher running ahead to the entry door, Dawn saw that the empty flowerbed was just a mound of dried dirt up against the home’s brick exterior wall.  Perfect for subterranean termite tunnels, she thought.  The fascia needed fresh paint, the chimney was cracking, and the garage was cluttered with boxes and boxes of miscellaneous non-essential items.  Edward had a problem with stockpiling everything he put his hands on, even if he didn’t need it.  If it wasn’t stacked in the attic, it was junked in the garage for the world to see.  And Sylvia’d complained many times about his housekeeping manners or his ‘nonexistent tidiness’ as she called it.  Dawn imagined how disgusting the house would be once Sylvia passed.  Unlivable, probably.  Habitable only for him.  
       Dawn would have to ask Xavier for his assistance because Edward was obviously going to need all the help he could get around the house since Sylvia was bedridden and near death.   Medical bills were through the roof.  Hiring a cleaning service was out of the question. 
       Sylvia hadn’t eaten anything solid in at least a month or more.  The most she’d ingested was Ensure, vanilla pudding, fruit cups and …. chocolate pudding.  Maybe Dawn was making too much of the house’s condition, but family and friends were visiting.  Who wants to see all of that stuff everywhere?  She surely didn’t, much less those who didn’t visit regularly. She almost found herself embarrassed when someone she hadn’t seen in years entered the home to give their best wishes and prayers and she had to remove an old pot filled with papers from a chair.