8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Andre
W hen I’d asked Zahir to tell me about Mission City, I’d sort of hoped he might tell me more about himself. More about Marty. More about their relationship as handler and puppy.
Nope. He dove into a great explanation of Mission City—the origin, the culture, the geography, as well as many of the residents.
A couple Zahir knew—Dean and Adam—popped by our table to say hi.
Dean was a jovial Aussie who did something with forests while Adam had some kind of job in business.
I hadn’t been able to keep up. The men had a dog named Chip who they’d left at home for the day, and apparently some diffident cat named Maurice.
I knew better than to stare at the scar on the left side of Adam’s face.
A burn? Faded to white, so obviously old.
Both men smiled and ribbed Zahir about how Daphne had fared while he’d been away. Then they sat in an empty booth, and my dining companion returned his attention to me. This time, instead of talking about himself, he tried to coax more information out of me .
Now, as we sat in his living room, awaiting Demetrius, I tried to replay in my mind what I’d actually said.
Blank.
Probably stupid, meaningless shit. Because, frankly, I wasn’t a very interesting person. My little contained life. Nothing to write home about. Or whatever that expression was.
“Are you okay?” Zahir asked the question quietly.
I sat on his living room couch with Daphne sprawled on my lap.
She’d given her owner the cold shoulder when we returned—apparently she really didn’t like being left alone—and she’d decided my lap was the place to be.
For my part, I had no complaints. Petting her brought a sense of calm to me that I desperately needed.
Well, maybe just the illusion of calm—because inside, my gut roiled and anxiety tightened my chest. I wasn’t generally an anxious person—things were going to spin out however they were meant to.
What I said or did rarely impacted events around me.
So I just kept my head down and did the very best I could.
Yesterday’s flight had been survived, thanks to Zahir.
Today’s meeting with my half-brother would be endurable.
I didn’t venture into the hope that things would go smoothly and I’d be embraced.
A knock sounded at the door.
Daphne straightened from her lazy-dog pose.
“You both stay where you are—I can get the door.” Zahir rose and made his way over to it.
I braced myself.
Daphne licked my cheek.
It’ll all be okay. At worst, you ask Zahir to drive you back to the Abbotsford airport.
Plenty of flights heading eastward. You go home and try to pick up the pieces in Toronto.
Except I didn’t want to go home in defeat.
Triumph wasn’t necessary either. Just…some kind of resolution one way or the other.
Demetrius stepped into the living room first.
I tried to shift Daphne off my lap. Because standing and shaking hands was the correct thing to do. Right?
He waved me back. “You should let sleeping dogs lie. She looks very comfortable. You’re obviously very good with her.”
That’s a compliment. Smile and respond. “Uh, yeah. Thanks.”
“Andre is fantastic with dogs. Apparently he met Mei on his walk this morning.” Zahir entered the room. “Coffee? Tea? Soda? Water?”
I had a glass of ice water on the table next to me, so the question was directed at Demetrius.
“Water would be great.”
“Fantastic. Have a seat anywhere you like, and I’ll be right back.” Zahir left the room.
Come back. Don’t leave me here alone … As my unluck would have it, he didn’t hear my silent pleading and return to my rescue.
Demetrius pointed to the high-backed chair across from where I sat on the sofa.
I nodded.
He eased himself into it. He was a tall man. Probably about my height, but more solid. Strong. I would’ve said confident, but an expression flickered across his face. I’d have pegged it as discomfort—but it came and went so quickly that I couldn’t be certain.
“One glass of ice water.” Zahir returned with two glasses.
He handed one to Demetrius. Then he held his gaze.
“Andre has asked me to stay—at least for now. If there comes a point when he asks me to leave, then I will. I have finger foods we can eat later if we’re hungry.
We just had waffles at Fifties.” With that, he sat in the other high-backed chair .
Great. Now they’re both facing me and I’m in the hot seat. Except…I was always going to be the center of attention. I was the interloper. The one who ventured out of Toronto and all the way across the country to crash the life of a half-brother I hadn’t even known existed.
“Waffles at Fifties are amazing.” Demetrius offered a genuine smile. “Blueberries or strawberries?”
“Blueberries.” I forced out the word.
“Good choice. Wait until the blueberries are in season at the end of July. I swear the Cedar Valley crops are the best I’ve ever tasted. You’re in for a treat.”
Does he think I’m going to be here a month from now? Hell, am I going to be here in, like, thirty days? I didn’t have an answer to that question either. “Sounds great. I love fresh blueberries.” I continued to stroke Daphne’s soft fur.
Demetrius shifted. “I think you know some things about me. I’m married and have two stepchildren from my first marriage.
I don’t even consider them step but seeing as they’re white and I’m Black, sometimes I have to make that distinction.
I met my husband when he was the director at the camp my son attends.
We connected and…just a few months later, we married.
It’s been almost a year now. I’m incredibly happy and consider myself lucky to have found love twice.
” He sipped his water. “Now, there’s more I can share—and I’ll answer any questions you have—but I know almost nothing about you.
I’ll admit I looked. My good friend, who is a sharp lawyer, insisted on it. ”
“I’m not a con artist. I’m not a scammer. I don’t want your money—”
He held up his hand to stop my tirade.
“I know all that. As far as I could tell, the photograph of you with our father was genuine. And I’m not a wealthy man, so trying to scam me would be a waste of time and resources.
I—” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize he went on to marry three women subsequent to my mother, and that he didn’t bother to obtain a divorce between each marriage. ”
“Bigamist.” The word did not roll off my tongue.
“Yep.” Demetrius scratched his stubbled jaw.
“I was mad he left both me and my sisters. My mom was a great woman who taught me responsibility. She didn’t tell me that I had to take care of my sisters—but she praised me to no end when I did.
Taking care of them came naturally to me.
I guess—” More scratching. “I’d say I’m a natural caregiver.
I love taking care of other people. My sisters were just the start.
Then my mom got sick, and she died. Then my grandmother.
Then Erlene, my wife. Adopting Keegan and Alaina felt like just an extension of all that love. ”
“Your sisters. Imani and Malaya?”
“They’re your sisters too.” He held my gaze with his dark-brown eyes.
I had the same eyes, but that wasn’t uncommon.
“I haven’t told them about you.” Demetrius blinked.
“I didn’t want to put pressure on you. If you give me permission to talk to them, then I certainly will.
Or you can contact them. Maybe email or text first?
Showing up can be a lot to handle. Imani is a forensic pathologist working for the RCMP in Vancouver.
And Malaya is an urban planner who works for the City of Langley.
She lives, with her husband and two sons, on a blueberry farm in Langley. Both lead incredibly busy lives.”
“A blueberry farm?” I tried to wrap my mind around having an urban planner sister who lived on a blueberry farm.
“She leases the land to a local farmer. In return, he gives her plenty of free berries. She, being a wonderful sister, shares them with me.” Demetrius beamed.
“And a forensic pathologist? She must be so smart.”
“Damn near genius. Both of them are. ”
“I’m not.” I gazed down at Daphne and kept stroking her fur.
She gazed up at me with fathomless dark-brown eyes.
“I want to argue that point.” Demetrius sat a little straighter.
“But I don’t know you. I don’t know your story.
I just know that if one of my kids said they weren’t smart, I’d argue.
I’d figure out what they were good at and emphasize that.
You’ve worked at the same gym for six years.
That takes all kinds of dedication and hard work.
Employers don’t keep people around who are slackers or not good at their jobs.
So maybe try to remember that when you’re putting yourself down? ”
My gaze shot to his.
He held it and tried to convey some kind of message.
Nothing I could understand, though. “Mom always said I had street smarts. But I never felt that way. I knew not to run with the wrong crowd. I figured out that graduating from high school was a good thing. I earned my gym-instructing certificate and my personal-training diploma. But that was really hard, and I barely passed.”
“Passing is passing as long as you can do the work. Like I said, six years is a long time. I know plenty of people who don’t have nearly that level of…dedication.”
He was trying to make me feel better about not having a college diploma or a university degree.
I could see that…but struggled with accepting that I was the same as those other people with letters behind their names.
“I don’t know if I want to see Imani and Malaya. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to see you.” Shit. Too abrupt.
Despite my words, Demetrius smiled. “Yet you came all this way, and you found the courage to call me. That speaks to bravery. May I ask you how you found out about me?”