Lovin' Blue (26 page)

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Authors: Zuri Day

BOOK: Lovin' Blue
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57
“Greetings from the Zen Den! This is Ariel. How may I help you?”
“Good morning, Ariel.”
“My word, Eden. What happened to your voice?”
Crying part of the night; screaming the other.
“Rough night. I won't be in to work today.”
“Is Jansen with you?”
Pause. One tear, two. “No.”
“Would you like me to come over?”
Eden's voice quivered. “I can't ask you to leave the center.”
“Melanie can cover for me. Her first class isn't until ten-thirty.”
“Ariel, it's okay.”
“It absolutely is. Everything is in divine order. Now what's your address?”
Twenty minutes later, Eden sat with a steaming mug of lavender-infused tea sprinkled with what Ariel referred to as “peace powder.” White candles burned, as did a fragrant oil from a brass statue Ariel claimed was the Hindu deity of love. Aside from a long, nurturing hug and whispers of “all is well” and “love is all there is,” there had barely been five words spoken between them. Ariel had waltzed into Eden's home as if she lived there, went to the kitchen, fixed the tea, and now sat quietly at the edge of Eden's bed. Eden rested against the headboard, her arms on her knees, amazed that against all odds she actually felt better. Not a lot—only a notch or so above horrific—but at this point she'd take any improvement she could get.
Another ten minutes went by without conversation. Ariel sat still, almost statuelike. Eden eyed her love-centered friend: legs crossed, eyes closed, hands resting comfortably in her lap, a slight impish smile on her face.
Meditating, no doubt. Or talking to her fairies.
Eden almost smiled. But not quite.
“Would you like more tea?” Ariel asked without otherwise moving or opening her eyes.
“I'm fine, thanks.”
“When did you last eat?”
“Yesterday, but I'm not hungry.”
Ariel nodded. “Okay.”
Five more minutes went by. Eden repositioned the pillows and half sat, half lay against the headboard. Ariel uncrossed her legs and stretched.
Eden breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, once, twice, and again. “I . . . I want to talk about it. But I can't seem to push the words past my lips.”
Ariel waited, silent.
“It's about Jansen.”
Now Ariel turned to face Eden directly. She placed her elbows on her knees and balanced her chin on steepled fingers. “I'm listening.”
“He killed someone.” There, the horrible truth had been spoken aloud, yet again. Eden almost expected the ground to begin shaking beneath them. Her world had surely wobbled off its axis when met with this news.
Ariel didn't flinch or move. She slowly closed her eyes, inhaled, opened her eyes, exhaled.
“It was my friend's brother, or, rather, a colleague I knew in DC.” Eden recounted the very brief account of the incident Renee had shared—namely that there had been a standoff, and after almost ten hours, her brother had been shot multiple times and died of his injuries.
“I'm so sorry,” Ariel said, her voice barely above a whisper. “For everyone involved: your friend, her brother, you, Jansen, the other police . . . everyone.”
A chirping bird, the one Eden thought lived near her windowsill, caught her eye. When she looked out the window, she noticed the gardener pruning the neighbor's bushes, a cat stealthily crossing from one yard to the next, a bicyclist coming down the alley. Amazing how, mere feet away, life went on normally when she knew hers would never be the same again.
“What did Jansen say?”
Eden sighed. “What could he say, Ariel? He took someone's life!”
Ariel remained calm, her voice even softer than before. “Yes, but why? What was the circumstance, the chain of events that caused this tragedy?”
Eden shrugged.
If five men fired five guns, does it matter which bullet pierced Steven's heart?
Renee's words caused her to shiver even as they reaffirmed her position that no excuse would ever change the facts of what happened. Jansen had shot his gun, and somebody had died. Eden looked at Ariel, and the tears she thought were finished began anew as she echoed Renee's question. “Does it matter, Ariel? Does it matter what happened when the end resulted in a life being taken?”
Ariel quietly arose from the bed, retrieved Eden's mug, and left the room. Eden could hear her humming in the kitchen, hear drawers being opened and closed, along with noisy paper bags. She returned less than ten minutes later bearing a tray with two steamy mugs, a plate of raw veggies, and a creamy faux-cheese sauce. She placed Eden's mug on her nightstand, and the veggie tray in the middle of the bed. Then she returned to her spot in the center, facing Eden. She picked up a carrot stick and munched it thoughtfully.
“My grandpa served in the war, the Korean War,” she began, her voice as melodic as if she were discussing flowers in winter. “He was only seventeen when he signed up, said he'd been greener than a hornet at the time and that nobody that young should go to war.
“He was barely out of basic training when the army got called over. The training gave the men bravado and a steely resignation to do their job.”
“Is that what you're going to tell me? That Jansen was just doing his job?”
“I can't speak for Jansen, Eden. He should be the one to do that. I'm talking about Pa.” Ariel took several sips of tea, ran a stalk of celery through the sauce, and quietly munched it. “My grandpa's unit was ordered to take over this territory that was strategic to their victory. The fighting was intense; he said that after a while one simply became numb to anything but the training needed to keep their comrades alive and stay alive themselves.
“One day Pa said he came face-to-face with the enemy, a young boy who looked about his same age or younger. He said they stood there, guns drawn, for what seemed an eternity. Pa had faced deer, rabbits, squirrels, coon, had even downed pigs and cows for curing. But never a human being, and never anything that could shoot back.”
Ariel became silent again, sipping tea, munching on veggie sticks. After another long moment, Eden reached for a snap pea and munched it mindlessly. “What happened?”
“Pa said it was the strangest thing, but . . . the boy smiled at him. Really smiled. Pa froze. He looked that boy in the eye, with his olive skin and black hair, and just couldn't do it, couldn't pull the trigger. He thought maybe they'd both just turn around and walk away, meet up with their units, and if they had too, shoot each other when, as my Pa said, ‘he couldn't see the white of his eye.' Just when Pa was about to lower his gun, two shots rang out. See, the boy had smiled because he'd seen one of his friends coming toward them, preparing to shoot my grandpa in the back. Fortunately, two American soldiers had also seen the Koreans. One trained his gun on the boy in front of Pa, and the other one took out the guy who would have been Pa's assassin.”
Ariel had been looking out the window. Her eyes were glassy as she fixed them on Eden. “If it hadn't been for those two soldiers, my grandpa would have died, and I wouldn't be here.”
The two women sipped their tea in silence. Ariel drew figure eights on Eden's silk, pale pink comforter. Eden stared out the window, looking for an answer to the dilemma she faced, other than the obvious one that would separate her from Jansen forever.
Ariel looked at her watch, stood, and reached for the tray. She took it to the kitchen, and Eden heard water running. After a couple minutes, Ariel returned. “I have to run, dear one,” she said, coming over to give Eden a hug. “There are three sides to every story, Eden. And even that which we view as truth is—”
“—only an illusion,” they whispered together.
Ariel reached for her purse and headed for the door.
“Ariel?”
She turned. “Yes, Eden?”
“Thanks.”
“
Namaste.
” Ariel clasped her hands, did a slight bow, and left.
58
Eden lay down after Ariel left, but sleep eluded her. What she did realize, however, in those moments of stillness, was that she did feel better. The pain, actual ache, that had seized her heart upon leaving Jansen at the restaurant was abating. And she realized something else. Jansen hadn't called.
“Probably for the best,” she murmured as she climbed out of bed and pulled off her pajamas. She ran the water as hot as she could stand it, poured in a generous amount of a lavender-vanilla mix, and turned on the jets. When the tub was filled she climbed in and thankfully sank into the searing liquid. She allowed the powerful jets to sooth the knots that were in her neck and shoulders. When images of Jansen kneading those very same muscles assailed her, she shook them away. Other images arose and weren't as easily dismissed. Her muscles involuntarily clinched. Even if she told her mind she didn't miss him, her body knew otherwise.
After a long soak, Eden washed her hair, did forty-five minutes of yoga, and then decided to organize the three hundred or so books that constituted her library. Anything to keep herself busy and her thoughts diverted. After setting up her iPod and scrolling to the first track of Jennifer Lindsay's debut CD,
Songs in the Dark
, she pulled all the books from their shelves and divided them by topic. Beginning with her politically oriented books, her largest collection, she began stacking the titles in alphabetical order. By the time the last track of the album began to play, she'd successfully organized the political section from
A
to
Z,
and instead of simply placing the books back on the shelf side by side, she became creative, laying some on their backs, other side by side, and, after scrounging her house, placing various items between the books for a more interesting visual. She was standing back, admiring her partially done handiwork, when the phone rang.
Immediately, she thought of Jansen but allowed a small smile when she looked at the caller ID. “Hey, Mom.”
“Are you busy, baby? I can call you later on, if that's the case.”
Eden quickly pondered what to tell her mother, deciding that less was better. “I've got a couple minutes,” she said as cheerfully as possible. “What's up?”
“Kathryn said Jansen showed up on her doorstep last night looking like somebody shot his dog and killed his cat. When she asked him what was wrong, he said y'all had broken up but wouldn't elaborate. You two were like peas in a pod when I left just two days ago. What happened, Eden?”
So much for my plans to keep Mom out of this.
“It's a long story, Mom, but I really can't get into it right now.”
“Well, before you tell me you're getting ready to go into a meeting, you should know I called the job and talked to Ariel. She said you weren't feeling well. When I asked her if it was your heart that was sick that child closed up tighter than an oil-slick bottle with a childproof cap. I was impressed, especially after how, when we met, she talked nonstop. That's a friend right there.”
Eden genuinely smiled for the first time in two and half days. “That she is.”
“Is it another woman?”
“Mom, please.”
“Okay, baby, I know it's none of my business.”
No, it isn't.
“Is it his job?”
“Mom!”
“Okay, okay, but you should know Kathryn is beside herself; says she's never seen Jansen look this miserable, even after his daddy died. So whatever happened, I hope y'all can work it out. Because I watched you, Eden, you and Jansen. Saw how you acted when you didn't know anyone was looking. I know a fit when I see one, daughter—you know, the hand-in-glove kind, the white-on-rice kind?”
Eden wanted to rush off the phone. She was tired of crying, and listening to her mother threatened to open the floodgates again.
“Y'all are it, baby.”
“Mom, I gotta go.”
“Okay, Eden. I'm going to back out of your business. But don't be sitting over there with pride and stubbornness for company. Call me if you decide to talk about what's bothering you. And more importantly . . . call Jansen. Kathryn said he hasn't heard from you.”
“Okay, Mom. I love you. Bye.” Eden hurried off the phone, switched her iPod to the Black Eyed Peas, and dove back into her book project. She was determined not to give her mother's word one second's thought. When the phone rang again less than ten minutes later, she almost didn't even look at the ID. When she did, she answered. “Hey, Alex. I was going to call you a little later.”
“I'm not calling about work. I'm calling about you. Are you okay?”
No!
Eden wanted to scream as loud as humanly possible.
No, I am not okay!
“I've been better,” she truthfully answered. “But don't worry, I'll be back to work on Monday.”
“Oh, so I won't be seeing you and Jansen later tonight?”
“No.”
Hmmm. Trouble in paradise?
“Want to talk about it?”
Eden went off. “Why does everybody want me to talk about it? I don't feel like talking, okay?”
There was a long moment of silence. Alex cleared his throat.
“I'm sorry, Alex. I shouldn't have snapped at you.”
“It's obvious you've got something on your mind, Eden.” Alex paused again as though he wanted to say something further but decided against it. “I'll talk to you later.”
Eden finished her library project, which had led to her organizing her drawers and closets as well, around six PM, and after finally feeling hunger pangs ordered from a Thai restaurant near her house. She'd watched about thirty minutes of
What's Love Got to Do with It
when her buzzer sounded. Assuming it was her food, she buzzed him in.
Instead of a delivery man, a uniformed driver stood at her door.
“Uh, I think you have the wrong house.”
“Ms. Anderson? Eden?”
Eden frowned. “Yes?”
“My name is Sullivan, and I was sent here by Dr. Kostopoulos. He is requesting the pleasure of your company at his Malibu estate. Dr. Christina Montague will be there as well.”
Eden stood speechless. “It is a casual affair,” the driver continued. “The doctor recommends jeans, T-shirt, a light jacket to ward off the night chill. I'm at your disposal, so you will be free to return home whenever you wish.”
Eden's door buzzer sounded again. “Hold on a moment.” She buzzed in the Thai delivery guy and paid him when he arrived. “I just ordered dinner,” she explained to the driver as she watched the delivery guy head back to the elevator.
“Dr. Kostopoulos employs an excellent chef, madam. I am sure he will be able to replicate the dish you've ordered or prepare anything that you'd like. Additionally, you are welcome to bring that with you, and we can heat it up once we arrive.”
For two days straight, Eden had been able to think of nothing but Jansen McKnight and the terrible news she'd learned about him. Suddenly it felt as if the walls were closing in on her, and an evening spent at the ocean's edge became an increasingly attractive idea. “You said I can come home at any time, correct?”
The driver nodded. “That is correct, madam.”
“It will take me a few minutes to change clothes.”
“I'll be down in the car, madam. Take your time.”
Soon Eden was nestled in the back of a large black town car as they drove toward the Pacific Coast Highway.
What am I doing?
The driver turned onto the coast, and the ocean, in all its magnificence, came into view.
You may not know what you're doing, Eden Anderson, but you're about to find out.

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