I repeated it slowly. “Caldwell?”
Then I was piecing it all together from the depths of my awareness, his last name screaming through my mind. It was the name of the family who had repressed and endangered the Weatherfords for centuries, the name of our mortal enemy. And it was the name he had not disclosed yesterday when he’d asked for mine.
Jameson remained firm, his expression never flinching and intently trained on me.
“
You’re…” I swallowed hard, the words barely making it passed my throat. “You’re a Caldwell?”
“
We’re all Caldwells,” Charlotte spat vehemently, motioning to the line on both sides of her. Apparently, from her point of view, I should have known this already.
“
Easy, Charlotte,” Jameson warned again.
She drew in a sharp breath, offended. “You spend the whole day with a Weatherford…
knowing
she’s a Weatherford…endangering yourself…all of us…and you’re telling
me
to take it easy?”
“
No one got hurt,” he mumbled, contentious, his mouth downturned.
“
Not yet…” seethed another one of the girls from his side, one with clear green eyes like Jameson, framed with long dark lashes. Right now they were narrowed and pointed at me.
No one spoke for several seconds and only then did I notice that we’d drawn a crowd. Somewhere inside the swarm people were whispering.
“…
starting another fight…”
“…
always at it. Can’t they just get along?”
“
Wonder what they’re gonna do this time.”
Then Oscar’s voice rose above the rest. “Let’s go, Weatherfords.”
This time, I turned with them to move toward the classrooms, noting that by accident or with intent they’d formed a circle around me.
“
That went well,” I muttered sarcastically and heard a few of my cousins chuckle.
“
You can hold your own,” Estelle pointed out, playfully elbowing me.
I avoided it and used the motion to do a visual sweep of the boundary my cousins made. I lingered briefly on the Caldwells who stayed in place watching us leave.
While most of them gradually returned to what they’d been doing before, opening their lockers, digging through their notebooks, Jameson stayed focused on me.
The rigidity in his face had loosened. He no longer seemed alert, tense. But there was something in his expression that I couldn’t deny.
He looked disappointed.
That caught me off guard. Here was my enemy who, for every sane reason, should be glaring at my back but he wasn’t. It didn’t make sense. None of it did. Thinking back over the hours we’d spent together, even after he’d learned that I was a Weatherford, he’d remained friendly, even flirtatious at times. He’d diverted the attention of his family when we nearly met them on the street, which I had a feeling was to help me avoid the tense meeting that had just taken place. He’d defended me against Mrs. DeVille’s derogatory remark about my hat. He’d left me an unexpected birthday gift, written in smoke through the air. He’d been concerned for my safety in transporting a dangerous item back home. Even if it had turned out to be a seemingly innocuous rope, he didn’t know it. He was supposed to be my greatest adversary and yet he’d done nothing at all to prove it.
This realization stayed with me until we crossed paths again, in my second class, History of the Civil War. As I walked through the door, I saw him seated at the back of the room, his head down, immersed in the words of a textbook.
I found the teacher and introduced myself, quietly so I didn’t disturb him. For some reason, I was trying to delay the inevitable acknowledgement between us that we’d be in same room together for an entire semester.
“
We sit in order of first name,” explained Ms. Wizner, a short, rotund woman with graying hair. “Easier for me to identify you. Now, that means you’ll be seated next to Jameson, since your name is Jocelyn.”
Right then, at that very moment, his head snapped up.
She and I were at my seat by that point so that she also noticed his reaction.
“
Well, well, Jameson. That’s what it takes to earn your attention in my class? Sit a pretty girl next to you? If only I’d known last year…”
At that point, I watched my mortal enemy blush.
From then on, the tension flared between us. As the rest of the students filtered in and Ms. Wizner started her lecture, I didn’t have to look in Jameson’s direction to know his breathing was staggered or that his body remained motionless, rigid. By the end of the hour, the stiffness surrounding us must have been almost palpable. Feeling it full force, the first deep breath I took was when the bell rang.
Unlike the rest of the students, I didn’t rush for the door and, I realized, neither did Jameson.
When the commotion of skidding chairs, rustling bags, and hurried footsteps died down, we sat in a cocoon of quiet. Ms. Wizner had even left the room for a quick bathroom break before her next session started.
Jameson and I sat staring ahead, our arms crossed over our bags set on top of our desks, our feet unmoving. It was almost as if we both had waited for this moment and now that it arrived we didn’t know how to react.
I broke the silence. “Thank you for the birthday gift.”
He released his breath, which he seemed to have been holding for a good length of time while waiting for either of us to speak. “You’re welcome. Did it-”
“
You should have told me who you were,” I stated in a rush, acknowledging what had held me back, what had kept me in my chair as the room had emptied, before my time ran out and I had to run for my next class.
“
I was about to bring that up,” he admitted. Then he sighed, seemingly frustrated with himself. “I should have.” He nodded. “But I…”
“
Yes?” I urged, not really caring my tone was harsh.
“
I knew what would have happened, if you learned I was a Caldwell.”
“
How could you be so sure? You don’t know me.”
He lifted one eyelid at me, skeptical. “Come on, Jocelyn. The first advice your family would have given you, probably before you even entered the city limits, would be to watch out for the Caldwells. And I’m a Caldwell.”
He waited for my response, that intense gaze settled on me once again.
I couldn’t deny it wasn’t true. It had happened exactly as he’d portrayed. “They’re only trying to keep me safe.”
“
And you know, I don’t blame them. My family would have done the same thing.”
As I turned my head toward him, our eyes met, stirring something deep inside me. While part of it was the excitement of being within arm’s reach of someone who was incredibly dangerous to me, it was also the fact that he’d recognized that our families were, in fact, similar. Albeit, it was that we shared a preservation instinct.
My gaze dropped to my right arm searching for remnants of the scar that had now completely disappeared, that ailment that had brought me to New Orleans, the domino piece that had set in motion my introduction to Jameson. Then my focus drifted to the scar above his lip and I wondered if it had been inflicted by one of my family members. Hadn’t both families suffered enough, I wondered. Where did it end?
Ms. Wizner, along with several students from the next class, came through the door then, marking the time had arrived when we’d need to leave.
We stood at the same time, collected our bags, and left the class. But only a few steps from the door, Jameson stopped me.
“
Jocelyn.” He waited for me to turn and face him. “I’m sorry for not disclosing who I am. That was wrong - but I don’t regret it. It gave me a little more time with you before we had to face reality.”
I nodded and he started down the opposite end of the hallway. Then I stopped him.
“
Jameson.” I hesitated, wondering if I’d regret my next words. They seemed so simple but carried such weight. “I’m glad you waited.”
And for the first time since I’d left him on the street in the French Quarter, he smiled - that relaxed, charming grin that had captivated me and made me feel so welcome.
No matter what my honesty might bring, ostracism from my family or fury from his, I felt it was worth it to see that smile.
Then, a few more steps down the hall, I wondered what had just happened. Jameson and I, who were both bestowed the duty of being lifelong enemies since our birth into our respective families, had just acknowledged to each other that we’d wanted to spend more time together. It was ethically wrong, certainly unheard of, and very likely dangerous. Worst of all, it was impossible. Our families would never allow it.
I didn’t bother to try and stifle the despondency that surfaced with this revelation. In fact, as I glanced back in search of Jameson, I found he’d done the same.
Even though we were far from each other, several rows of lockers to be exact, I knew he’d come to the same conclusion. His shoulders slumped, his head bowed, his lips downturned, his forehead creased with disappointment…all told me the truth.
He disagreed with the position we were in too.
We hesitated, for just a second, our eyes locked on each other, and then we entered our respective classes.
Lunch came and went without a sign from the Caldwells. My cousins, having met me at my classroom door, took me to their eating spot, a table on the outdoor patio overlooking an expansive green lawn. I then surveyed the area for the Caldwells, which Oscar noticed.
“
They eat inside,” he said, attempting to console me. “They stay well away from us, where they can’t start anything.” He yawned and stretched out his long, meaty legs. “Nope. Out here there’s usually just us, the girl who speaks to the dead, and her boyfriend.”
I held back laughter with a grin that told him I didn’t believe a word he was saying.
“
No kidding,” he insisted. “She has a spot in Jackson Square where she sells messages…They were gone most of last semester, something about being in Europe, but they’re back and trying to make up classes so they can graduate.”
“
Which one is she?” I asked and he pointed out a petite, dark-haired girl sitting on the grass.
“
This is a strange world I’ve been let into…” I muttered.
He laughed. “That’s an understatement. Anyway, you won’t see any of the Caldwells out here.”
“
They know better,” said Vinnia.
“
So the ones I met in the hallway this morning…Was that all of them?”
“
Pretty much. The tall one, Burke, is quiet but has a good temper,” Oscar explained with a snicker, telling me he’d seen it firsthand. “The two girls, Charlotte and Alison, are usually the instigators. They don’t mind starting something.”
“
Or keeping it going,” Estelle added wiping her fingers on a purple napkin, specially included in her lunch bag by Miss Mabelle who knew her attachment to the color.
“
Yeah, Charlotte and Alison, they’re my favorites,” I said wryly.
Oscar chuckled before continuing. “The other one, Dillon, is the youngest of the Caldwells so he’s stayed clear of us; although I don’t expect that to last long. Once his skill level is up I imagine he’ll use it. And then there’s Jameson,” he gave me an inquisitive look, “who you already know.”
“
Not very well,” I corrected. “I just arrived yesterday.” I reminded him.
Oscar nodded and then smiled to himself, evidently realizing the truth behind my statement. “Right. Well, he’s the most peculiar of the Caldwells. Although they’re all similar in that they’re patient, persistent, and smart, he doesn’t have the same talents as the others. Umm…” Oscar swiftly looked around and realized he wanted to keep whatever he was going to say next as private. Lowering his voice, he continued. “He channels. That’s his thing. He’s good with kids; they don’t seem to see through him like we do. When he sets his mind to something, he does it. No matter what challenge he’s facing, no matter how ludicrous. And, once a week, he leaves the city on some kind of errand, which we’ve never been able to figure out. Tried following him a few times but he always caught on and made sure we lost him.”
“
Oh,” chimed Estelle, “and he doesn’t date seriously, has never had a long-term girlfriend.”
My head snapped in her direction. “But he’s…”
“
Gorgeous, right?” Estelle filled in my thought.
“
Undeniably,” I replied, shaking my head.
“
And the girls notice it,” she reassured.
“
He’s waiting for someone,” said Vinnia between mouthfuls of crab cake sandwich.
We all looked at her, curious how she might know this, but she simply shrugged, unable to speak beyond the food between her bulging cheeks.
Immediately, I wondered who that someone might be. It couldn’t be me. I was a Weatherford - he was a Caldwell. We both knew it wouldn’t work, which is why he spent those few extra hours with me. He’d been as interested in me as I was in him and wanted to make the most of our time the day before. This - here - right now was what he meant by “before we had to face reality.” This was reality. We would never be able to spend untainted time together again.
Vinnia’s statement settled in the back of my subconscious as I went about laying out my lunch. The bag prepared for me by Miss Mabelle once again showed her knowledge of my tastes. Inside I found a sandwich combining bacon-lettuce-tomato and peanut butter-jelly, Kettle chips and freshly squeezed orange juice.