5. Kennedy
Kennedy
CHAPTER FIVE
NEW ORLEANS
I can't let him go.
Either my son is a very calm child, or God made him recognize me as his mother, because as soon as I saw my baby, I picked him up, crying, and I couldn't stop kissing him and telling him how much I love him.
As the car that brought me approached the house a few minutes ago, anxiety grew in my chest, increasing the erratic beating of my heart and the emotions roaring within me.
Ernest brought me photos of King when I was in Massachusetts, but still, I was surprised that he didn't have any of my features. Actually . . . no, that would be impossible.
I force myself to focus only on the present.
Two years away! I missed so much.
As soon as I saw him outside the house Ernest rented for us, I ran to him and fell to my knees to wrap him in my arms.
I knew that, against my chest, I was holding the reason for my life. For him, I would fight.
The last image I had in my memory was when I breastfed him before going to Massachusetts to surrender. I promised my son I would do the right thing and then come back to be the best mother he could wish for.
My promise wasn't fulfilled.
The accident separated us, and there's still this sword hanging over my head, the shadow of a possible prison sentence that, despite my lawyers' optimism, is my greatest fear.
I press my lips together to prevent a sob when his hand comes to my face.
"Mommy!" he says, and I look at Ernest, astonished.
"I showed him photos of you every day. I wanted to make sure King would never forget the wonderful woman who gave birth to him."
"I can never thank you enough, Ernest."
"Your happiness is mine too. You don't need to thank me, Kennedy."
" Kendy! " King mimics Ernest.
"None of that, handsome. I'm your mommy."
He smiles, releases himself from my embrace, and runs off.
"My son is perfect."
"And a great kid too." He stays silent for a long time, just staring at me.
"What's wrong?"
"I didn't mention it before because I didn't want to make you anxious, but I can't keep what I'm thinking to myself any longer; King looks just like Hades Kostanidis, Kennedy."
I swallow hard. I can't deny it. It was the first thing I thought when I arrived.
I have blue eyes, and the only man who was supposedly in my life, Ryan Corey III, has green eyes.
King has all the Greek features.
"How is that possible?" I say, feeling a chill of fear and all the happiness that flooded me upon arriving disappear. "If it's true and he finds out, he'll take him away from me. How could I have gotten involved with someone who hates me?"
"We don't have answers for that yet, Kennedy, and he won't take your son from you because we'll prove you are innocent. I don't believe there's a judge in the world, if what you're thinking is true, who would separate a mother from her child."
Two weeks later
"You shouldn't be doing this, dear," Ernest says when he arrives and sees me in the garden. "Enjoy every second with your little King."
"King is taking his afternoon nap. I brought the baby monitor with me," I say, pointing to the ground where the gardening tools also lie. "Besides, these flowers need care, and I can't leave them to you. I remember you're not good with plants."
He smiles because he knows what I'm saying is true. "Alright, but that's enough for now. Let's go inside; I'll prepare dinner, and then I'll spend the rest of the day spoiling my grandson."
My grandson.
I know I am not a blood relation of Ernest Wich’s, because I asked him directly when he took me to the cabin, before my coma, but he acts as if he were a father and grandfather.
He almost never talks about the past or our relationship when I lived in New Orleans with Aunt Riny, only saying that he was our neighbor.
Sometimes he lets slip a thing or two, like when he told me I worked at a casino in town as a cleaner and had a short-lived job, only one day, as a waitress, but none of it brought back any memories. He told me he was a dealer there too, but now, as far as I know, he doesn't have a job, which confuses me.
We live in a great house, well-organized, with plenty of food in the fridge and pantry. When I asked if the money we're using comes from the same person funding the lawyers, he confirmed but didn't elaborate further.
Ernest has bought me clothes, shoes, and underwear since I left prison, but what made me happiest was seeing that he added drawing pads and pencils to my gifts.
When we were in the cabin, he told me I'm an artist. At first, I thought he was joking, but the moment I picked up paper and pencil and began to sketch, it was as if the lines came to life on their own.
I was very proud when I found out I had a profession, although after my incessant questioning, he revealed that I didn't make money from it while living in New Orleans. Regarding the short time I spent in New York, he couldn't say.
"I have good news," he says, and my heart races as I silently pray it's what I'm thinking.
"Did they find Ryan?" I ask, unable to hide my anxiety.
"Not yet, but it seems he was seen in France. He won't be able to run forever, Kennedy."
"I hope not. I pray every night to regain my memory, but besides that, we need to find that murderer too. Until they catch him, people only have me to blame. Although they know I'm not the killer, they hate me because they think I'm an accomplice. Maybe the day I face Ryan, all my memories will come back."
Hades
"I don't want to sound repetitive, but you're obsessed, brother," Ares says, appearing in the basement of my house, where I've been punching a bag for hours.
It's where I vent my anger.
No, it's not just anger.
The wrath is explosive and fleeting.
It's resentment and a thirst for revenge.
For three years, I've been getting clues about Ryan's whereabouts, but every time I get close to him, the son of a bitch escapes again. His family has as much money as ours, so it's no surprise he's managing to stay hidden. If my cousin Odin, who is a tech genius and can access cameras from anywhere in the world, hasn't found him yet, no one else will.
"What do you want, Ares? Don't you have a ballerina-wife to take care of?"
Three years have passed since Pam died, and since then, a lot has changed in our family.
Zeus married a former dancer from Ares' club and is now a father. He finally avenged our grandfather, and for the first time in his life, he seems happy.
Dionysus is married to the woman who was his son Joseph's nanny. Cici is, without a doubt, the love of my brother's life.
As for Ares, well, he became obsessed with his ward, Serenity, a dancer he acquired as a bonus when buying the shares Zeus needed to take control of GordonBank. They recently got married and are happy.
I like my three sisters-in-law, but I have a special bond with Serenity. Currently, I'm not close to anyone, but she would be equivalent to a best friend if I embraced that kind of concept.
"I came to talk."
I hadn't stopped punching the bag, but something in his tone makes me pay attention to my brother. "Is everyone okay?"
"It's not about the family. I came to talk about Juliet."
"What could you possibly have to tell me about Kennedy that I don't already know?"
No matter how much I try to call her "Juliet," as other people do, to try to distance the girl I met in New Orleans in the past from the cold and cruel murder accomplice she turned out to be, I can't.
I've referred to her perhaps half a dozen times as Juliet in conversations with my brothers, but it sounded so unnatural that I gave up.
"She's been granted the right to face trial while out on bail."
"I suspected as much. My legal team warned me about this possibility."
"Yes, I figured you'd know, but do you know why they granted her this?"
"Because she's a first-time offender, there's no DNA on the knife, and she recently came out of a coma. Besides, they don't have much evidence against her, which I plan to correct as soon as I find that damn Ryan and make him confess the truth and give his accomplice's identity. Only then will this hell end."
"Sending the woman you were completely infatuated with before Pam died to prison for the rest of her life will end your personal hell, brother? Zeus and Dionysus might believe your rage is just hatred, but I don't. I know you, Hades. You fell for her. If you didn't claim her for yourself, it was because of Pam."
I don't deny it. Before the tragedy happened, my intention was to make her my girlfriend, even though all the signs pointed to the fact that she wasn't someone I should get involved with.
"Kennedy participated in the murder of Pam, Ares! Not a simple death, something spontaneous like pushing her down the stairs. They tortured her for hours. She was beaten until she was unrecognizable. That son of a bitch violated her in every way." I grab the shirt I threw on the sofa and put it on my sweaty body.
"Where are you going?"
"Running. I can't stay here, damn it!"
I don't wait for a response and head off into the night, without caring which direction I take.
More than an hour passes before I'm back, but by then, some of the guilt I carry has diminished, along with the constant pounding that always echoes in my ears when I think of Pam.
I paid for that trip. I didn't take Pam's phone call seriously that night, when she said that Juliet was acting strange and Ryan had shown up there unannounced, and she asked me to come to Cape Cod to save her.
Save her.
I promised her she'd be safe, and I failed to fulfill that promise.
Now, I can't stop until the culprits are punished.
I enter the hallway of my house and lean against the door, in the dark, eyes closed.
"You didn't ask me the reason I came here,” Ares says, and I still don't open my eyes to face him. “It wasn't just to tell you that Juliet is temporarily free. You would have found out through your lawyers."
"There's nothing about her that I don't already know."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Get to the point, Ares!"
"I know that while Juliet was on the run, missing, or whatever it was, you went to New Orleans trying to find her because you thought she was hiding there."
"Yes."
"But you kept going even after she fell into a coma. Why?"
"I don't know. Something drew me to that city."
"But you never sought out her protector, the neighbor."
"How do you know that?"
"New Orleans, no, the whole of Louisiana, belongs to Beau, Hades. Not a leaf falls on that state's ground without him knowing. You never approached Ernest Wich, although I suspect you were going to the city seeking answers."
"I don't know why I kept going. As I said, something drew me there."
"Something?"
"I don't have a logical explanation to give you."
"Why did you keep going to the hometown of the woman you swear you hate, Hades?" he presses, and I finally explode.
"Because in my head, she's still Kennedy! Even though I know she's an accomplice to a murder, in my head, she's still my Kennedy, damn it!"
"Brother—”
"I hate her for what she did, and yet I'm crazy about her. I'm going to send the woman who helped kill Pam to jail, Ares, but at the same time I’ll be condemning the woman I know is the only one for me, because I fell in love with Kennedy the first damn day I saw her."
I don't realize I've punched the mirror until I see my blood dripping on the shards at my feet.
Neither of us moves. Ares says nothing, perhaps finally understanding the hell I've been living in for years.
"I'm going to ask you a question, and I need an honest answer. Is there any chance you might have gotten Juliet pregnant, Hades?"
"What?"
"The reason they not only granted her bail but also allowed her to leave the state of Massachusetts is that Juliet has a two-year-old son. A boy."