16. Gisele
“So, what’s on the menu for tonight’s date?” Elle asked me while I was packing Miracle’s overnight and school bags. Resisting the urge to smack my sister, I called out to my daughter to move her tushy.
“You aren’t making your spaghetti, are you?” Elle asked almost horrified, causing me to stop packing to balk at her.
“You love my spaghetti!” I exclaimed just a little hurt.
“Yes, I do, as does the rest of the family, but chickee, you eating spaghetti is not a pretty sight. Especially if you wear white,” Elle pointed out helpfully. I was wearing white.
Gosh darn it. I picked this dress because my legs look good.
“I think Jami will be impressed if you wore a potato sack, Gisele,” Elle laughed, taking over the packing while I stood there silently seething, she called him Jami.
“Jami? Why aren’t you calling him Detective or Jury?”
“Someone’s jealous,” Elle sang merrily, “we had a conversation during our interview/chat, and I asked him which name he preferred. When I mentioned I noticed you called him Jamison he was quick to answer with Jami or Jury. I think he wants you to be the only one to use his full name.” Winking at me, Elle leaned over and gave me a noisy kiss to my cheek. “He likes you chickee, but I get the feeling he is bit of loner. Whether it be because his line of work or a bad experience in his past. I think you’ve got him thinking about more than the case and the reason he is here.”
“Jamison is such a manly name, isn’t it. Dreamy.” I sighed, staring down at my pretty dress already mentally going through my wardrobe.
“Oh boy, you’ve got it bad chickee. Dreamy. I can’t wait to tell Claudia,” Elle pranced around the kitchen with far too much excitement.
“You will do no such thing!” I shouted dropping the spoon I was using to stir the sauce too hard splattering orange sauce all over the bodice.
Marvellous.
Ellie of course found it hilarious, doubling over in uncontrollable giggles.
Snatching the tea towel off the rack, I dabbed furiously at the material but that only made it worse. “Your laughter is not helping Elle Naomi Blessing.”
“Neither is you spreading the stain more,” she replied not so helpfully, taking the towel from me then went about removing my dress. “This stain will never come out if you don’t get it soaking straightaway.”
Not wanting to lose my dress to becoming dusting rags, I helped my sister remove the garment leaving me only in my undies and bra, white of course.
“You and white,” Ellie chuckled, “But I do like the lace. Where did you get them?”
My sisters and I were not shy when it came to undressing in front of each other. It was normal for all of us to be in the same change rooms in department stores needing each other’s opinions. So, standing in my kitchen in underwear was completely and totally normal.
“Online, I liked the daisy lace pattern,” I said proudly tracing my finger over one cup.
“Gotta say I kinda like it myself.” A deep sexy voice startled both me and Elle, both of us screaming better and louder than Jennifer Love Hewitt.
Standing in the entry way of my kitchen was none other than Jamison, staring not at my face but at my hand that was frozen on the cup of my bra. Basically, Jamison was watching me fondling myself.
Marvellous.
Whilst Elle had finally stopped screaming and reverted to laughing, I was completely and utterly frozen. Useless. Lost in the lust written all over his handsome face.
Lust for me.
I don’t know I couldn’t take my hand away from my breast, although it might have something to do with the fact Jamison’s blue eyes were smouldering, his Adam’s apple working up and down, as if he was … turned on.
I had to admit I was a little more turned on myself. It had been a very long time since a man looked at me with anything other than trepidation and fear if they came anywhere near me their legs might miraculously break.
“Okaaaay,” Elle said breaking the silence, “While Gisele does look perfect in her white lace bra and panty set, one she brought without asking my opinion first I might add, I think she should go put on something else.” Without so much as blinking or reacting to her sly comment about purchasing without her approval. Elle grabbed my hand from my boob and guided me out of the kitchen.
“Make yourself comfortable Jami and stir the sauce will you please. Gisele makes the best spaghetti sauce ever, so don’t let it burn,” Elle said over her shoulder, the humour in her voice was not lost on me despite my catatonic state.
Not thinking with the right part of my brain, I turned to Elle and gasped.
“I have a thong on, don’t I?
Laughter came from both my sister and Jamison this time.
“That you do chickee.”
Marvellous.
The mortification of earlier had dissipated enough for me to walk back out the kitchen. It took me a little to get over the humiliation of my predictable, but I was finally ready to face Jamison. Maybe.
Thanks to Elle, who took control of finding me a lovely skirt and blouse, finished packing Miracle up and left with my daughter. Leaving me alone with a very sexy man in my kitchen stirring my sauce.
What the devil was I meant to do? Just walk in the kitchen like the last fifteen minutes never happened. That Jamison had not seen me in nothing but bra and panties, that I hadn’t seen the lust in his eyes, the beating of the vein in his throat or the panting sounds he made while ogling me.
How the hell was I meant to act in front of him now. Since meeting we had become comfortable and relaxed. I didn’t want that to change.
The curse that haunted the Blessing women might be a family joke, but it was real. Elle’s husband was a douchebag wanker who treated her like shit and stole her money on a regular basis and a year ago Claudia lost a pregnancy before her third trimester. It broke Claudia and her husband Josh, she refused to talk about the miscarriage and only barely tolerated our mother’s gentle insistence she wanted more grandchildren. Georgina wasn’t the type to let traumatic events override you. She was a firm believer in shaking it off and getting on with it. It was a constant source of animosity between mother and daughter.
My own story was well known and documented, just ask any residence of Blessings. I wasn’t sure what was starting to happen between Jamison and me. A big part wanted to find out, but another part was telling me to run and run like hell.
“You know, you can stand there and worry about me seeing you close to naked, or you can get in here and help me finish dinner,” Jamison said drolly, breaking my mental argument with myself.
Digging deep past my humiliation and embarrassment, I walked into the kitchen giving Jamison an awkward wave.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he said back, his smile genuine without a trace of smugness about earlier.
Such a nice man.
Standing aside to give me room at the stove, Jamison handed me the wooden spoon.
“I turned the gas down low, boiled water for the pasta, but I think maybe I cooked it a bit too long.” Grateful for the easiness he was creating I took the spoon and lifted a few strands of pasta out of the boiling water and gave it a taste. It was cooked well beyond al dente but still edible, I flicked off the gas and reached up to the overhead rack to grab the colander, but Jamison beat me to it. Our fingers brushing against each other sending a current through me I’d never felt before.
“Sorry,” I mumbled pulling my hand back as if his touch scorched me, which it did but not in a bad way.
“Don’t be, I’m not,” Jamison replied easily, then went about draining the water as if what he said didn’t affect me.
It did. A lot.
“So how long have you been living in this house?” Jamison asked once we were sat down that the table, each of us a bowl of steaming hot spaghetti in front of us.
“Hmmmm, let’s see. I renovated it the year after Miracle was born. Before that we lived with mum and dad still. Miracle was so little when she came from hospital with monitors, I felt safer having mum and dad there for back-up.” The comfortable feeling suddenly back making me more relaxed.
“It’s a beautiful place, I love the stairs that lead up to the house and the lattice style swing doors opening onto the wrap around verandah.”
“Agreed, but having an all-weatherboard building takes a lot of maintenance,” I reminded him about our conversation when I gave him the tour.
I watched Jamison trying not to make it obvious as he ate and seemed to be enjoying the meal despite the slightly soggy pasta. I couldn’t help it, he was incredibly good looking, no he was freaking out of this world sexy. Between his blue eyes, greying hair at the temples and his chiselled chin, I could look at him forever and still be enthralled.
“So, your dad is like a jack of all trades?” Jamison asked, a tiny smirk at the corner of his mouth when he caught me staring.
“Umm, yep you can say that.”
Please don’t blush, please don’t blush. I chanted silently.
“He comes across as the silent type, kind of makes him a little —”
“Scary,” I offered laughing. “It’s kind of hard for dad to get a word in with three high spirited daughters and a wife who never stops talking and has an opinion on just about every subject you can think of.” Smiling fondly as I usually did when I spoke of my family.
“My dad has one goal in life and that is to make sure his girls are taken care of and well-loved and protected. That goes double for Miracle.”
I knew Jamison was interested in the story of my daughter’s refusal to speak; most outsiders were. However, this time it didn’t raise my hackles instead I wanted to tell him.
“A lot of the locals believe the Blessing curse is why she doesn’t talk,” I started with a shrug, then taking another fork of spaghetti before continuing.
“She was born at twenty-three weeks gestation; she wasn’t expected to live past the first few hours after her birth. But one hundred and two days after her birth I got to bring home my perfectly healthy baby girl.”
Nodding his head Jamison put his fork down, the look of interest on his face a nice change from the horror people usually reacted.
“So, she isn’t deaf?”
“Nope. She’s had all the tests; she hears just as good as you and me she just doesn’t make any sounds.”
“No giggles, sneezing, coughing?” he asked intrigued.
“Not a single sound. When she laughs her shoulders shake like normal, when she cries tears fall from her eyes and sneezing is more like a blowing wind sound. But trust me her hearing is better than yours, mine and the rest of the town’s put together. Lately Georgina and my sisters have been teaching her some very bad words, signing them too. Just last week she was sent home from school for cussing.” I was still pissed over that incident, where my mother could’ve been prouder of her little angel.
“It is commendable that the family learned sigh language, must have been a hard process.”
I felt a surge of gratitude towards Jamison for his thoughtfulness. It had been difficult and a long process but there was nothing we wouldn’t do for Miracle.
“Thank you for saying that” I blushed, “She was three when we started classes, deciding it was a better way to go than have her write everything down. Her young age would’ve made it more frustrating for her.” Remembering the hours and hours spend practicing at home when we weren’t making weekly trips to Gracefield to the school for deaf. Miracle’s inner strength pushed all of us to make it work.
We stopped talking and started eating again, the silence at the table pleasant. Not that I didn’t, love talking about my little girl, but sooner or later the conversation about the curse was bound to come up. Just not tonight. I was not ready for that topic of conversation.