Tom watched this interplay over the rim of his own wineglass. “It’s good to see you with a woman again, Romain.”
“Thank you, Tom,” Romain said. “And I know she’s pretty.” He winked. “No need to mention it again.”
“She is pretty,” he agreed. “Not like Pam at all, though.”
Susan didn’t say anything, but Alicia cleared her throat and murmured Tom’s name in a warning tone.
“What? I can’t talk about Pam? I knew her, too. She was my sister-in-law,” he said, but then he waved toward Jasmine and changed the subject as if he wanted to avoid any further conflict. “So what did you do? Pick a random spot on the map and say ‘I want to go there’?” Another thought seemed to occur to him. “Or…maybe you needed to get away. Are you running from a bad breakup or an abusive husband?”
Jasmine choked down the bread she’d just bitten off. “No. I’d heard a lot about the beauty of the bayous and decided to see them for myself.”
“And what do you think?” It was Romain, Sr. He had a firm grip on his knife and fork as if tempted to use them for more than cutting meat, but his voice remained as calm as ever.
“I like it here.” And that was the truth, a truth largely inspired by those few moments when she’d first opened her eyes this morning and found Romain’s large, warm body wrapped around hers. She knew she’d never forget the pale winter sunlight as it streamed through his window, or the chorus of rain outside. “But the thought of alligators makes me a little nervous,” she admitted.
Romain, Sr. spoke up. “Alligators won’t hurt you. They’re generally not aggressive.”
“That’s what people keep telling me, but it’d only take one bite to ruin my day,” she said with a laugh.
Susan broke out of the morose silence into which she’d fallen. “How’d your parents meet, Jasmine?”
Jasmine didn’t want to talk about her parents any more than her reason for coming to Louisiana, but it seemed the safest alternative at the moment. At least she wouldn’t have to lie. “They went to college together.”
“You said your mother was an immigrant?”
“She came from India with her parents when she was fifteen. But her parents returned shortly after I was born so I don’t know them all that well.”
“She’s Hindu?” Tom asked.
“Yes. Nearly eighty percent of India is Hindu.”
“But only a small number of people in America are,” Susan said. “Was your father religious?”
“Actually, he was. I don’t think he is anymore, though.”
“Hindu?”
“Christian.”
Tom poured himself more wine, after which Romain, Sr. not so subtly moved the bottle away from him. “What does that make you?”
Following Kimberly’s disappearance, Jasmine had gone through a period of confusion. Her mother was adamant that she’d lose her salvation if she didn’t embrace Hinduism, and her father was equally adamant that she’d go to hell if she didn’t remain a Christian. She was hoping there was some place reserved for people like her, who felt torn and couldn’t decide if one way was any better than the other.
“I guess my beliefs are sort of a blending of the two.”
“So Christmas doesn’t have much meaning for you.” Tom probably felt as if he’d solved the riddle of her presence at their table. It was merely another day, another meal.
But that wasn’t true at all. As much as she might deny it, Christmas meant a great deal to Jasmine. It always had. But she’d learned to downplay the family aspect so she wouldn’t be disappointed when her holiday experience was so different from everyone else’s.
She searched for a way to explain without making herself seem pathetic but couldn’t find the words. More than she ever had before, she missed the unity her family had once known. It was a poignant ache in her chest. Prior to Kimberly’s disappearance, she’d been on solid ground emotionally, but had struggled to regain her footing ever since. The abduction had robbed her of a sister she loved and split her family apart more ruthlessly than a hatchet.
The tears that sprang to her eyes came suddenly. She didn’t want to be here with these strangers. She wanted to have Christmas dinner with her family. But that family was dead and gone. That family would never be the same, could never be the same, even on Christmas.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got…something in my eye.” She left the table, walking calmly until she cleared the doorway. Then, when they could no longer see her, she fled to the bathroom, locked herself in and sagged against the door.
Chapter 14
The knock came far sooner than Jasmine expected. She’d thought the Forniers might give her a few minutes to herself. No such luck. They probably wanted to quiz her on what had caused her parents’ divorce or if and when she and Romain had made love. They couldn’t simply mind their business and leave her alone, could they? That was too much to ask.
She ignored the first knock. But another came right after it. “Jasmine?”
It was Romain. She was tempted to tell him to go away. She needed to pull herself together and paste another smile on her face. But she was even more tempted to tell him off for bringing her here. With that thought in mind, she wiped her tears, unlocked the door and let him in.
“Are you okay?” he asked, closing the door behind him.
“You have a screwed-up family,” she said.
He studied her for a moment. “I’m not going to disagree. But…are you sure this is about my family?”
She wanted to avoid that—it was too much of a direct hit. “Why didn’t you stop them?” she whispered harshly.
“From what?”
“From drilling me!”
“Those are the types of questions people ask every day, Jasmine. ‘Where are you from? What do you do? What do your parents do?’ It’s called getting to know someone.”
“They don’t need to know me!”
“I wanted to hear what you had to say as much as they did. Is that so terrible?”
“You wanted to hear me lie about my reason for being here?”
He shoved a hand through his hair. “Not that. The other stuff.”
“What’s the point?”
He stared at her without answering.
“Well?” she prompted.
“I know you practically purr when I hum in your ear, that you have a different smile when I tell you how beautiful you are—one that says you like hearing it but can’t quite believe it. I know you would’ve enjoyed that motorcycle ride if you weren’t so busy trying not to enjoy it. And I’ll never forget the heavy-lidded look you get right before you—”