Family Growing Pains, page 30
part #6 of The Dancing Wolf Series
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Oh, my baby girl, I wish I could take it all back. Please forgive me. I love you more than the days are long in heaven. I’m very proud of you, so very proud of you. I’m sorry I was too weak to show you before. I’m so sorry for the lies I threw in your face just to appease your father. I love you just the way you are. Always be true to yourself. Never change for anyone, not even me.”
She breaks down sobbing hard and her words become incoherent so she gives up on trying to speak and just cries in her daughter’s arms.
Symone’s sisters walk up, looking between Symone and me awkwardly. Since Symone is still in an emotional reunion with her mom, I step forward offering my hand to them to shake.
“Hi, I’m Kayla.”
“We know.”
A full-figured woman takes my offered hand loosely in hers for just a moment and she doesn’t say anything else. The next sister is similarly built and actually gives me a real handshake.
“I’m Theresa, this is Rachel,” she motions to the woman I just shook hands with, “and this is Denise.”
I shake Denise’s hand and she gives me a small smile.
“Why are you here?”
“To support my wife.”
Rachel releases a small laugh and looks over towards Symone, who is still holding her mom while watching us with a cautious look on her face.
“You’re not really married.”
“That’s your opinion.”
“That’s what God and the law says.”
“That’s still just your opinion. My definition of marriage is not the same as yours.”
“Obviously. Why…”
“Get back!”
“Kayla Johann, how can you be here? How can you support an evil racist? How can you do this to us?”
“Get out!”
Our bodyguards struggle with the young black man, pulling him out of the funeral home.
“Excuse me, will you?” I nod once to Symone’s sisters and turn back towards the open door. “Alek, Niko, I’m going out to make a statement. Please make sure no one else gets in.”
“No, please.” Symone catches my hand, which I lift to my lips and kiss. “I’ll be fine.”
I walk outside with a few bodyguards and stand on the top step of the funeral home. The media moves in close with their cameras and microphones held high while they throw out questions. I lift a hand, and all of them fall silent, waiting for me to speak.
“Sometimes, all we have is our voice, but a voice can be stronger than any weapon known to mankind. A voice can inspire a small band of misfit farmers to rise up against an enormous intruding army to protect their families and lands. A voice can inspire a young girl to excel in school and later become the greatest scientific mind of the twenty-first century. A voice can also call me outside to stand before you to give a statement I didn’t plan to give.”
I glance over at the protestors, where the young black man is standing in the front with a proud smile on his face.
“In the case of Jethro Jackson, the voice that turned his world upside down came from a young black woman he met when he was nineteen. Everything he thought he knew and understood about the races was destroyed in one conversation with the woman who later became his wife.
“Falling in love with and marrying a black woman does not excuse the crimes he committed, nor does it make it better. But something everyone would agree with me on is that we want to see the change in a person. We want to see that an ignorant person has grown to understand something new. We want to see that a person has regret and guilt for the bad things they’ve done.
“Something you don’t know, and we only learned recently, is that Jethro Jackson lived that regret and guilt every day. Every time my wife faced racism growing up, not only did he comfort her and reassure her of her beauty and worth, he also had to face his own past.
“It may have taken over thirty years for us to learn about his crimes, and he may not have done time in a physical prison for those crimes, but the man lived a life of internal penance. I’m not saying he made up for what he did, but we have to accept that on some levels, the change we always want and need to see happened. Jethro Jackson did not die a hardened racist. He died a changed man. He loved black people just as he loved white.
“Jethro Jackson confessed to many horrible things, but he also witnessed to crimes he had no part in to ensure the long overdue justice would be served. He knew that by confessing he would face life in prison or the death penalty. On his death bed, be pleaded to survive so he could do his time. The man came face to face with himself and hated what he saw more than he had ever hated anything or anyone before. The man wanted to make amends.
“We’re not here to remember the horrible things he did. We’re here to remember the changed man he became. We’re here to remember the strength he showed in rising above himself and attempting to do better. We’re here to remember the man his family knew, not the man he tried to leave behind in Mississippi. Thank you.”
I turn to walk back inside and the reporters try throwing out more questions, but the noise is far less than before I walked out here. I glance over at the protestors, and the young man who rushed in and called me out is standing in the front of the group with a pained smile on his face. He nods once, which I take as his approval. I return the gesture and walk back inside.
“Did you rehearse that? Was that part of some publicity stunt for you?”
“Shut up, Rachel.” Symone steps forward and gives me a kiss on my lips and dabs at her eyes. “I love you.” I kiss her lips again and wipe a fresh tear from her cheek. “I love you too.”
“Kayla.” I look over at Symone’s mom, and she steps forward with a trembling bottom lip and tears streaking her cheeks. “Thank you for what you said. I don’t care why you said it or if it was planned.”
“You’re welcome, but I honestly didn’t plan on giving a statement. Thank you for allowing us to come today. I know Symone has already told you this, but if there’s anything we can do for you and your family, please let us know.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Symone’s sisters have very irritated judgmental looks on their faces, but thankfully, they don’t say anything else. Olivia leads us into the service, where only about twenty other people are sitting in chairs. I recognize Symone’s sisters’ husbands and their children from pictures, but I don’t know anyone else. One of her nieces, who I believe is eight years old, jumps up with a big smile and throws her arms around Symone.
“Aunty Symone! Why don’t you come see us anymore?” Symone glares at her sister Rachel for a moment before she bends down with a smile to hug the girl. “I’m sorry, sweetie; I’ve been very busy. I miss you every day though. You’ve grown so much. Morgan, this is Kayla.”
Morgan giggles and looks up at me with a giant smile.
“My mom wouldn’t let me watch your movie because you’re naked. It’s not fair because all of my friends watched it. Even Mom and Dad watched it. They made popcorn and made us go to bed. It’s not fair.”
“Morgan, that’s enough. We didn’t watch that movie. It’s a sinful movie.” Morgan looks up at her mom with pinched eyebrows and a slack jaw. “You just lied. You watched it. I know you did! And you liked it because you watched it again. I saw you!”
“Morgan, just go sit down.”
“But that’s not fair!”
“Go!”
Morgan stomps off sulking to sit back down next her dad, and the she looks back at her mom with her arms crossed and her face pinched in a very angry, upset pout.
“It’s ok if you like the movie. It’s not like we’ll think you’re a lesbian.” Rachel glares at Symone, which makes my wife laugh. “I didn’t watch that movie.”
“Right.”
Symone takes my hand and leads us to the chairs to sit down, not waiting for Rachel to try to deny again that she watched and likes my movie. I place an arm around her back to rest a hand on her ribs and hold her other hand on her thigh. She looks at me with a loving smile and kisses my lips.
She leans in with her lips touching my ear, and whispers, “My sisters really like you.” I laugh a little and I lean into her neck, and whisper, “I’m glad you didn’t inherit their cold temperament towards the people you like.” Symone smiles really big and leans in again to whisper in my ear, “So, you like my heat?”
She firmly grips the inside of my thigh for a moment with a broad smile. I smile really big, and quickly look around to make sure no one saw her. She releases a small giggle and kisses my cheek.
I’m really happy to see how relaxed she is today. It’s been two weeks since Jethro died, and Symone has been having a really hard time with it. She’s been having spurts of very emotional moments, very quiet moments, or moments of needing to share memories. She hasn’t been able to focus on much else. It helped that her mom finally returned her call last week, but it wasn’t till we arrived and her mom embraced her that Symone seems back to her old self again.
I kiss her hand and pull her in closer to me as a man gets up to start the service. He reads from the bible, talks about life’s trials, and overcoming the temptation of the devil in all things. He doesn’t directly talk about what Jethro did, but the amount of time he spends discussing how “cunning the enemy is” pretty much shows he is torn on how to give Jethro a memorial. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was hard for Olivia to get someone to agree to preside over this service.
Olivia gets up next and speaks a little bit about the kind of man she saw when she looked at and spoke to Jethro. She shares a few sweet memories, and then holds up a tattered paperback.
“This was Jethro’s favorite book. He has several passages in the book boxed and highlighted. Many nights, he would lay in bed, flipping through the book, only reading those passages. I haven’t been able to get myself to open his nightstand since he was arrested in February. But last night, I pulled this book out and I did what he had done for so many years. I read the highlighted passages. We would be here for a while if I read them all to you, but I want to read one particular passage that he drew several stars around.”
She clears her throat and opens the book to a marked page.
“It is not by design, nor by predestination that we inherit the earth or the greatness it provides. It is by the hard work of the hands and heart. The hands and heart have no eyes, yet they accomplish the greatest of man’s achievements. Skin, no matter its color, is just a sleeve to keep the innards of man inside. For one to do the greatest good, he must see with his blind hands and heart. If a man cannot see through his hands and heart, he would be better to pluck out his own eyes from his skull so he can learn how.”
She closes the book and looks up with a small smile.
“I struggled the past several months to understand the man I thought I knew after we learned about his past. This was his favorite passage from any book and he read it almost nightly. I understand now that the man I married tried to live every day seeing through his hands and heart. He still stumbled sometimes, but it helps me to find some peace knowing that his greatest battle was not to run from his past, but to overcome it. He wanted to be better than he was before. Thank you for coming. I know it wasn’t an easy decision to make.”
Olivia steps down from the small podium and places a hand on the wooden box holding Jethro’s ashes. She closes her eyes for a moment, but then quickly turns, wiping her eyes. The non-family mourners stand and politely shake hands or offer hugs to the family. Some linger to talk to Olivia for a few minutes, but after only maybe ten minutes, only the family is left in the room with the funeral director and our bodyguards sitting at the back of the room.
Olivia looks around the very empty room with sadness deeply creasing her forehead. Her jaw tenses and she swallows hard a few times. Symone takes her mom’s hand and Olivia gives her a small smile.
“It was a beautiful service. I think Dad would be happy with it.” Olivia’s eyes tear up and she looks up at the ceiling, taking several deep breaths. “I thought of something I need your help with.”
“Anything.”
“I want to scatter your father’s ashes in all of his bucket list places that he never had a chance to visit. There are so many, but I would really like to try to get to the Grand Canyon, the hot springs in Yellowstone, Niagara Falls, and Zion National Park in Utah. Your dad had a huge list of natural wonders he wanted to see before he died, but he was only able to see a few.”
“I don’t know when I’d be able to go to all of those. We’re pretty booked till…”
“No, sweetie, I want to go alone. I need to go alone.” Symone gives her mom an understanding smile as she pulls her into a hug. “Ok, Mom. We’ll help you with your travel arrangements. Can we take you out to dinner?”
“Food would be good and it would be nice for all of us to have a meal together again.”
“How about Ocean Prime, where Dad would take you for your anniversary every year?” Olivia looks around at the family nervously. “That would be nice, but that’s a very expensive place for so many of us.”
“Mom, I got it, really, it’s no big deal. I want to do this. Besides, I already made the reservations.” Olivia smiles and places a hand on Symone’s cheek. “Ok, honey. Let me just talk to the funeral director and grab my things.”
Olivia walks away and Rachel takes her place, looking between Symone and me with a smug smile.
“So, first thing you have to do when you come waltzing back into our lives is flaunt your sinfully earned money?” Symone rolls her eyes and loops her arm through mine. “You don’t have to come if my money isn’t good enough for you.”
“We’re coming.” A tall husky dark-skinned man walks up and extends his hand to me with a broad smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Justin, Rachel’s husband. We loved your last two films. I know I’m a big man, but I have to admit that I bawled like a baby when your wolf died in ‘I am Paytah’. That was intense. And that final showdown with that asshole that shot your wolf – I turned into one of those annoying people I typically complain about and actually stood up to applaud you. That was legendary. When is the ‘Sharps’ sequel coming out in theatres?”
“Thank you. It will be out Christmas weekend.”
“Damn, that’s so far away. When’s the first trailer coming out?” I laugh a little at his excitement and the embarrassed look on Rachel’s face. “They’ll probably release the trailer in the next week or two.”
“There’s going to be a third movie, right?”
“There will be four films in total.”
“Can you give me any spoilers? Wait, no, I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me anything!” I laugh again as he waves his arms in front of himself. “I wouldn’t tell you anything even if you begged me. I’m not allowed.”
“Ah, that’s no fun. So, I have to ask you, how the heck did Symone get you to pole dance in your dance show? You don’t seem like the kind of person to do something like that.”
“Well, she made me fall in love with her. It’s kind of hard to deny her anything after that.” He releases a deep hearty laugh and nods in understanding. “The Jackson women do seem to have that magical ability. I’m whipped too.”
I laugh hard and Rachel’s mouth curls and puckers into a proud amused smile.
“Ok, we can go.”
Olivia walks over with a large bag on her shoulder and her husband’s urn tucked under her other arm.
“Mom, don’t you want to take the flowers?” Olivia looks back to the front of the room at the two large flower arrangements and takes a deep breath. “No, if you girls want to take them home, that’s fine.”
Rachel and Denise have their husbands grab the flower arrangements and Alek leads our bodyguards to the exit to form a barrier for us to safely leave the funeral home. Thankfully, most of the protestors and media have left and only a handful of each remain. They don’t try to press in or try to question us – they just observe our departure.
Symone gives her mom a tight hug before we climb into our limo with our security team. As the door closes, Symone releases a small laugh and lays her head back.
“I actually forgot how much of a bitch Rachel can be. She’s the oldest and was always stuck up Dad’s butt. She’s so fucking fake with that ‘sinful lifestyle’ shit. If Dad had known even a quarter of the shit she has done...”
She releases a small laugh and shakes her head. Her smile falls into a pained pinched look and she leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder
“Well, I guess he had worse secrets.”
I wrap my arms around her and kiss the top of her head. I hold her in my arms the entire ride to the restaurant, and when we pull up along the curb, she is reluctant to release me. Our guards stand outside, patiently waiting for us while Symone gathers herself. She just sits staring out the door for a few moments before looking in my eyes.
“Thank you for being here with me. This is probably going to be very mentally exhausting.”
I smile and pull her into a kiss. Symone leans into me and inhales deeply as her kiss intensifies. She sucks my bottom lip firmly before rapidly flicking the tip of my tongue, and then gliding her full length back in along mine. I release an involuntary moan and grab her hip, pulling her in harder. Symone smiles against my mouth and slowly pulls back.
“Are you ready now, my sexy enchantress?” Symone laughs and caresses my cheek. “Yes, my sexy Cherokee goddess.”
My face spreads into a huge goofy smile and Symone releases a cute giggle. She pats my thigh and nods towards the door, encouraging me out of the car. As we climb out, Symone’s family walks over looking less tense and kind of excited.
With Alek and Niko standing on either side of us, Symone and I lead her family into the restaurant, and we’re immediately led into a very high-class private room with a finely dressed long table. I stand aside while I wait for Symone’s family to take a seat, then turn to address Alek.
“There’s enough room if you guys want to join us in here.” He smiles and shakes his head. “This is a family occasion.”
“Ok, I figured you would say that. The tables just outside of here are reserved for all of you. Please order whatever you want. Well, please try to make sure the others limit it to one alcoholic drink.”
