Jethro #2
The room erupted into claps and cheers.
Emma didn’t acknowledge the bikers or billionaires, secure in her place within their adoration. However, she did squeal and dance uncoordinatedly on her chair.
Nila grabbed Emma’s tutu, just in case she toppled over. “Good girl. I have no doubt all your wishes will come true.”
Kes stood by, his mouth watering. He didn’t care his sister’s spit just ended up all over the cake with her blowing attempt.
All he wanted was sugar. Kid turned high as a damn kite whenever he had sweets.
In that respect, he didn’t remind me of his namesake.
My brother had never truly let himself go—never been crazy or adolescently stupid.
At the time, I thought it was just him, but now, I think he did it for me. If he’d let himself get carried away, I wouldn’t have had any choice but to be carried away, too.
Letting Nila go, I slipped my hand into my back pocket and squeezed the hidden box. Nila had seen this gift, but Emma hadn’t. It would be the last present but the most valuable.
All day Emma had gratefully accepted gifts.
I loved that she genuinely appreciated everything—from socks and sherbet to a new swing-set and pony.
Her young emotions filled my heart to bursting, and in an odd way, I was able to relive my childhood through her, replacing unhappy times with excellent ones.
“Down. Down. I want to get down.” Emma pointed at the floor.
Nila calmly plucked Emma from the chair, placing her on the travertine. “Don’t go anywhere. I believe Daddy has a present for you while I cut the cake.”
Nila’s black eyes met mine. We’d been together for such a short amount of years, yet it felt like she’d been mine for eternity.
I would never grow sick of waking with her in my bed, or sharing my breakfast with her by my side, or helping her sew late at night even though her needles drew more of my blood than I liked.
I love you.
She beamed. I know.
Tearing my gaze from hers, I dropped to my haunches and motioned Emma to come closer.
It was surreal to protect and raise children named after two people who had meant the world to us; two people who’d died in the war between our houses.
Kestrel had adopted some of my brother’s quirks, but not all, and Emma doted on Textile in a way that made me wonder if she suffered a little of my condition.
There was no avoiding the avalanche of love and underlying despair from Tex that his wife wasn’t there to see her grandchildren grow. Emma would hold his hand and sit quietly on his lap, plastering up his hurt with quiet affection.
Taking my daughter’s hand, I looked toward the outskirts of the room.
My sister-in-law, Jacqueline, lingered in the background.
She’d come for a few days to celebrate Emma’s birthday but couldn’t shake the wariness the Hall invoked in her.
Hawksridge had not been kind to the Weavers, and she hadn’t accepted her lineage that easily.
Nila and Vaughn had gone out of their way to welcome Jacqueline into their midst, but she’d been raised differently. She’d been a single child in a stuck-up family. She didn’t know how to handle large gatherings—and in that respect, I could relate.
We had happier times when we visited her in Cornwall—where Jacquie lived with her husband. There, on her own turf, her emotions were relaxed and confident while she lavished her little niece and nephew with love and antidotes.
She was a good aunt. However, her spiky black hair couldn’t be any different to Nila’s river of ebony. She shared the same eyes, same figure, same liquid grace, though.
Nila and Vaughn grew up believing they were twins; to find out they were triplets had taken some getting used to. However, the underlying history and mystery kept a moat from forming an intricate bond just yet.
In time, it would form. Nila would eventually warm her sister and help her dispel the remorse that she wasn’t there to help. Shame was a powerful thing and Jacqueline couldn’t shake the regret that she’d been firstborn by a few minutes, yet she hadn’t paid the debt.
She didn’t even fully understand the ramifications of the debt. Didn’t care to dive too deep into history.
My heart thundered. If Jacqueline hadn’t been secreted away and hidden, she would’ve been mine, not Nila.
And the end to the Debt Inheritance might’ve been completely different, because even though I tolerated Jacqueline, I didn’t connect with her.
Her emotions were scatty and undeveloped compared to her sister.
She would never have had the power to reach into my ice and shatter me from its hold.
My arms itched to hug Nila again. To thank her. To love her for being her.
So I did.
Straightening from my crouch, I quickly embraced my wife before dropping back to my haunches in front of Emma.
Nila accepted my hug with a soft smile, almost as if she’d followed my thoughts.
Emma smelled of cheese puffs and sausage rolls from the special treat for her birthday dinner. “Did you enjoy riding Hocus Pocus today?”
Emma clapped her hands. “I did. She’s amazing. Can I go again? Right now?”
I swam in her infectious energy. “Not tonight. Tomorrow. We’ll all go for a ride over the chase.”
“Can we bring the birds? And the hounds? And Nemo?”
“Nemo?”
Emma looked at Nila. “You said you’d ask, Mummy.”
Nila rolled her eyes affectionately. “Nemo is Emma’s name for a kitten we saw advertised in the village. I told her we had more than enough pets.” Ruffling her hair, she smiled. “You just got a pony. That’s enough animal presents.”
Emma pouted. I tensed against childish demands, but she balanced her emotions with such maturity, that pride washed through me.
“I know. Hocus is amazing.” Leaning in, she pecked my cheek. “Thank you, Daddy.”
My heart shattered with love.
It’d taken almost a year to source the perfect foal for Emma. I’d ordered a filly from the breeder who’d given me the colt for Kes.
At almost eight years old, Kes had become a proficient rider and rode with me daily, trotting beside me, cantering with courage, exploring the borders of Hawksridge as I taught him the value of land and heritage. Now, Emma could join us on her midnight filly called Hocus Pocus.
Letting Emma’s sticky hands go, I reached into my back pocket for the box. Passing it to her, the room quieted as I kissed her soft cheek. “This will mean more to you when you’re older, but I wanted you to have it now. Promise me you’ll take great care of it and never lose it.”
Her black hair bobbed as she nodded furiously. “I promise.”
I laughed softly as she grabbed the red box and cracked it open.
She had enough experience opening jewellery boxes.
One of her favourite places was Diamond Alley and raiding Nila’s precious collection.
She said she wanted her mother’s collar—even tried to pry it off one day with a nail file.
Little did she know that it would’ve been on her little neck if she’d been born to another man in another time with the Debt Inheritance still in affect.
She was a Weaver girl. But now that name didn’t come with such a curse.
Her little mouth parted as she took in the black diamond necklace I’d shown Nila the day I officially asked her to marry me.
Nila caught my gaze, twirling her engagement ring, letting me know her thoughts were with mine. She didn’t need my condition to understand me—that came from unconditional love and a lifetime of listening to each other.
Helping Emma remove the chain from inside the box, I dangled the teardrop in front of her. “This is very special. Do you recognise the stone?”
“Yes.” Her black hair bounced.
I’d never met a brighter child. She could memorize and recite diamond cuts and their flaws and attributes.
She’d learned a few words in Swahili last time we were in Africa and even given the kids at kindergarten clothing advice from watching Nila effortlessly pin and style simple calico into a glorious gown.
She was a perfect blend of both of us. A magical piece of Nila and me.
“Where did you see the stone?”
She pointed at Nila’s left hand. “Mummy’s ring and bracelet.”
“That’s right. And now you have one, too.”
“Because you love me as much as her?”
I laughed, gathering her in a hug. Kestrel moved in grabbing distance and I squeezed him in a group hug. “Because I love both of you as much as her. I love you all.”
Nila subtly wiped sudden dampness from her cheeks, busying herself with cutting the cake. Jaz rolled closer, helping stack paper plates and take those full with pink frosting to a few of the Black Diamond brothers and family.
Once the room had received their piece of confectionary, Jaz wheeled toward me and handed out the plates of cake on her lap to my children.
Pinching Emma’s nose, she said, “Now the present giving has ended, how about some cake? I want to eat your wish, little Velcro, so I can make sure it comes true.”
Kes slung his arm over his sister. With boyish fingers, he grabbed the icing and smeared a huge handful into his mouth. “About time.”
The room laughed.
And my world was perfect.
* * * * *
I was drunk.
Not on liquor or intoxicating substances but on happiness.
Pure, unadulterated happiness.
Such a cliché expression: I’m drunk on happiness. But for the first time in my life, I could positively say it was true.
“Hey, man, we’re gonna push off.” Vaughn clasped my shoulder, squeezing tight.
The last few hours had passed in good company and gentle conversation.
The crowded parlour had dispersed after the cake had been devoured and Tex and Jacqueline had gone to their guest rooms while Nila and I retired to the newly decorated den with the children.
Jaz and Vaughn had joined us, pulling out Twister and other silly games to tire Kes and Emma.
“You’re safe to drive? You guys can just crash here.” I smirked. “It’s not like we don’t have the room.”