The Unearthing of Blackstone Read online

  “You’re safe here, Ace…”

  “Okay…I saw her photo, provided by the client, and then, when I saw her face to face, I mean, looked into her eyes when she stood up…shit,” he looked back down into his lap, “…something happened. I can’t even describe it.” He took a deep breath. The entire thing unnerved him, but what could he do? This was what happened, and he simply unveiled the facts. “I’ve never felt anything like that before, Dr. Rose.”

  Ace swallowed and looked around the room as he writhed about in his chair, trying to get comfortable. Emotional pins and needles jabbed him in the ass cheeks and thighs. “I looked into her eyes, and it was like… like we had a connection. It was electric.” He smiled and laughed lightly. “I’m so grateful she wasn’t one of the dead ones. I mean,” he shrugged, “I don’t want any of my subjects dead, you get what I’m saying, it’s just…I don’t know. I wanted to meet her but not until I actually really saw her, and heard her speaking, did a change come in me.” His fisted his hand. “It’s like the client disappeared and it was just me and her…”

  “So, you feel an attraction to this subject? A physical attraction?”

  “Yes, a physical attraction and maybe more. I wish I could be clearer.” He sighed in frustration. “But it’s hard to define something I don’t quite comprehend yet my own self. I can describe a case to you in full detail, but when it comes to stuff like this, I don’t know…I just don’t know.”

  “But you don’t actually know her, so, if it is more than you just finding her attractive, then there must be more to this.”

  “Right.” Ace nodded, a sad smile budding on his lips. “I don’t know ’er but I know of her. I’ve researched her for so long, I feel I know everything about her. Then, I saw her, met her, you know, and uh, I asked her out on a date, Dr. Rose. We’re going out tonight, matter of fact.”

  The man cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses.

  “Before you say anything…” Ace held up his hand. “I know I should cancel. I’m bringing it up to you because I just can’t believe I did this. Yet I feel it’s right, even though it’s wrong.” Wincing, he added in a low tone, “And I’m not making any sense.”

  “Ace, you’ve never had an attraction to a client or subject before, have you? I take it this is the first time?”

  “Nah, not really. I mean, yes, I’ve never had this sort of thing happen before. Hell, I’ve seen attractive subjects before. Rich guys come into my office all the time and some of them have really nice looking wives. They look good, you know?” He shook his head. “But it’s all the same. I see nice looking women all the time; we all do, I suppose.” He paused, reflected on his words. “I don’t get really hung up in that. So I really don’t know why this is different and honestly, it’s making me uneasy.”

  “Well, if it is making you uncomfortable, then don’t you think you ought to abort the date, alert the client and consider the case closed before things go further and you compromise your company and code of ethics?”

  “I know right from wrong, Dr. Rose.” Ace glanced at the man, then sat a bit higher, eyeing him sternly. “A part of me would like to do that, but I have a feeling I might regret it. This is probably just a damn excuse, but something about her father rubs me the wrong way.”

  “He is the client?”

  “Yes. I mean, he doesn’t come across as a bad man, per se, but something about him makes me feel like she disappeared for a reason.”

  “So this client is the father of your subject, and he is searching for her?”

  “Yes…and I’ve already said too much.” He sat a bit straighter as a shred of regret burrowed inside of him. “In my entire career, I have never told anyone about a case I had, past or present, not even my closest friends. You are the first person, and it’s messed up, because if something illegal should happen, you’re a witness to the shit and this is all in my records!” He laughed, though he was far from amused. Ace had jumped into a fiery pit with a gasoline soaked jumpsuit on. He was in deep trouble.

  Dr. Rose smiled. “Our sessions are confidential, Ace. The only time I’d have to divulge trusted information is if your life was in danger. I do not feel that that is so.”

  “Ethically, I’ve crossed a line, right?”

  “I think you know the answer to that, Ace.”

  Ace smirked and nodded, then looked back down at his shoes.

  “Well, I’m not cancelling the date. I want to go out with her.” He lifted his head, raised a brow as he clasped his hands over his lap. “I’ve made up my mind.”

  “Yet you’ve brought it to my attention… It obviously is bothering you.”

  Ace remained quiet as he worked over his thoughts, drenched in the rains of confusion.

  “The price of Starbucks coffee bothers me, too. Yet, every now and again I still indulge.” He swallowed.

  “You strike me as someone who prides himself on being honest with himself as well as others, Mr. Blackstone. I take it you don’t plan to disclose your vocation or reason for meeting her, initially? You do understand you are creating a situation that could have unsavory results.”

  “At this point, no, I don’t plan to tell her. It’s a date, you know.” He sucked his teeth then met the doctor’s gaze. “I know it doesn’t make a lotta sense, but, this is where I’m at...I…”

  “You want her.”

  “I believe so, yes. At least I need to find out if I do.”

  “What would you like from me regarding this situation, Ace?”

  “I guess…nothing. I’m not sure what I was looking for you to say or do. I think simply by talking to you, and working it out here, I figured it out — at least, this part of it. I wasn’t looking for approval, or to be talked out of it. I guess I just needed to say it. Well, I’ve said it.” He scratched his head. “What else do you want to do?”

  The doctor grinned and glanced at the clock.

  “We have eighteen more minutes together. Let’s talk about those dreams again…”

  ~***~

  In six hours, I will be sitting with Lynne Greene, having dinner. Yet, here I am, standing in my parents’ bedroom having an argument with the mistress of the house…my mother.

  Ace stared at the woman who met his glare head on, her mouth agape, aging hands clutching her pastel orange shirt in a knobby grip.

  “Look, all I want to know is what you know…”

  “Ace, I’ve been through this with you a million times!” Her voice rose, alerting him he stood on thin ice.

  He hated to do this to her, but Dr. Rose felt it imperative that he did. The situation had to be revisited again. He hated bringing her pain, but hell, he was in pain, too.

  “Look, young man.” Her eyes narrowed. “Your father and I have been nothing but upfront with you. I told you that you were adopted, I told you all that I knew and, despite how it hurt, I understood that one day you’d have questions and want some answers.” She slumped down into a chair by the bay window with the golden bars. She looked like a bird locked away from the world…just as he always felt his mother was.

  “Right, and I’ve yet to receive any!” He balled the paper up in his palm. “This is nothing!” He raised his arm and shook it. The old rage boiled deep within him again. He hadn’t felt it in years, but it was now coming forward, propelling him. “These names lead to nothing, Mom. I need a starting point. All I have is that my name was Ace, per a note left on me when I was found on the steps. My birthday was written by hand on a scrap of paper — October and the year…that’s it! Not even an exact date. I need more than this, so I can find other facts and this is just empty space. There has to be more to this. Why can’t I or anyone else trace my parents’ whereabouts, Mom? Doesn’t that strike you as odd?!” He wanted the woman to care as much as he did!

  Why didn’t she?! His suspicions ran amuck.

  The woman stood from her wicker chair and placed her hand on her hip as her dark brows dipped, matching the scowl on her face. “Of course it does, Ace! Bu
t…my main concern is you.” She pointed at him, making him once again aware of his presence in her home. He felt as though he’d left his body, become so undone that he’d lost himself. “Ace, this happened over thirty years ago! I barely remember what I had for breakfast let alone all the nuisances from the foster home and adoption agency.”

  “You had scrambled eggs, two slices of wheat toast with a slab of margarine, expired peach preserves that should have been thrown out three weeks ago and a small glass of soy milk, two thirds of which are still sitting in the glass on the counter next to a cheap, plastic gray ink pen that you accidentally brought home from the drugstore after writing out a check.”

  She rolled her eyes and stormed over to her vanity, plopped down and grabbed her mirrored brush to work on the slight tangles in her long hair.

  “Why do you keep expired food for so long?” he asked as he moved towards her, his tone a bit more calm. “Anyway, look, Mom, I’m sorry about getting you upset, but I just would like to know more about the details surrounding my adoption. It seems like you’re not even making an effort to remember, is all. I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful, but I need some resolution.”

  She spun around and looked up into his eyes, sincerity on her face. Reaching towards him, she gripped his wrist so hard and strong, he couldn’t move even if he’d wanted to.

  “Ace, I want nothing more than for you to be happy. You should know that by now.” Her eyes brimmed with tears, making him feel guilty as sin. “Don’t you know that I realize this is part of the reason you had such a hard time as a child?” She released him to grip her mint green silk robe and hold it tighter against her. “Why would I want you to suffer so? If I knew of anything more, I would tell you, honey.”

  He almost drowned in her sorrow. He wished to let it all go but he couldn’t, not even for her. He had to keep at it. His life was turned on its side for he could get no rest; the horses kept charging, and he was tired.

  “The agency, where was it located?”

  “In Rockford, Illinois. It was called ‘Hope House.’ We’d gotten a call, we were told that a little boy had been abandoned.” She sighed. “I will tell you this story a million times if I have to, Ace. It doesn’t change. Anyway, I’d just signed up and qualified to be a foster parent. We were to keep you for a few weeks, maybe a few months until your family was found, and then the courts would take over. That’s not how it happened though.”

  She looked away, regret in her eyes as she began to slowly run the brush through her hair, paying particular attention to the ends. Through the mirror, she stared him with an earnest expression.

  “We had you for about three months. No one could find your parents, family, no one. No one knew where the baby boy with the big green eyes had come from…At that point, I’ll admit to you, I was a bit relieved…because I wanted you. I loved you, Ace...just as much, if not more than if I’d given birth to you myself.” She smiled at him, causing him to smile back.

  “The only thing I’m guilty of is loving you, because I figured,” she shrugged and looked over her shoulder at him, “anyone who could abandon a two-year-old on some church steps in the middle of the night didn’t need him back, and I wanted you so badly.” She turned away, then back towards him. Tears streaked down her cheeks. “All anyone knew was that your first name was Ace. You were very shy, and though rather small for your age at that time, you looked to be in good health, besides that scar on your head… I think it makes you look even more handsome now!” She smiled pleasantly, though the tears kept coming down. Retrieving a tissue from her robe pocket, she blew her nose. “You had some of the most beautiful green eyes I’d ever seen. People would stop and comment about them all the time…just…beautiful.”

  Her eyes unfocused as she seemed to disappear within herself.

  “They changed colors. Sometimes they’d be light green, like the sun was shining right on ’em. Other times they’d be dark green with bits of gray, like trouble was looming inside of you. You were a complicated child from a young age. I should’ve known you’d take me through the wringer.” She grinned a bit wider.

  He knelt beside her and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek.

  “I’m sorry for all the mess I took you through, Mom. I really am.”

  She laughed lightly, her eyes still welling. Sighing, she ran trembling fingers through his hair.

  “Yeah, you were a tough one. I told your father you didn’t mean these things, that you just needed some help we couldn’t give you. Ace, let me ask you something.”

  He nodded as she took both of his hands into her own and gathered them close, as if needing that closeness.

  “Are you still having those awful nightmares, son?”

  A lump formed in his throat. He looked down at their clutched palms, kept his eyes glued there, and nodded. He wasn’t in the mood to tell her he’d been seeing a head doctor about the shit. As open as they were with each other, some things he preferred to keep under wraps. He damn sure wasn’t going to lie to her though, either.

  “Yes…I still have them, Mom.”

  Her face fell. This wasn’t the answer she wanted, but it was the one she got, and she appeared to accept it all the same.

  “Well, I gotta get going.” He rose to his feet and kissed the top of her bowed head. “Tell Dad I said, ‘Hey’ when he gets back home from the market…and tell him to pick up some fresh preserves while he’s there. You’re gonna get sick eating that old crap.”

  She laughed lightly and waved to him before he made his way out of her bedroom door and exited the house.

  ~***~

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The sheer red top worn over a black silky tank top gave her just the look she was vying for. Sexy. Feminine. Well put together. After Ivy got her dolled up for the awards ceremony and dinner, she began to give more than just a damn about her attire; she’d even bought some new threads. Tonight she was going to meet the handsome man from the awards event, thus stepping out of her comfort zone. Therefore, she’d try to approach this new man differently than her past ‘hit and run’ episodes. However, if she felt the need to repeat history, she’d given herself a loose leash, just in case she got cold feet. After all, she’d rather be safe than sorry.

  Bullshit. You don’t want that again, and you know it.

  She paced her living room for a while before heading to the kitchen. Hell, I don’t really know what I want, quite honestly…

  Opening her refrigerator door, she removed a Fiji water bottle from the top shelf. The light illuminated the dark, quiet space as she screwed off the cap, tossed her freshly flat-ironed hair back and chugged it. When she’d drained it all, she pitched the empty thing into the recycle bin on her way out the room, and grabbed her silver purse from the dining room table. She grinned as she caught her reflection in the mirror right by her front door.

  Not too shabby, my dear.

  Though she never put the tips Ivy had bequeathed her to good use until recently, she at least understood the importance of a more well-rounded and dreamy appearance. Amazing what a bit of mascara and a pencil skirt could do to one’s self esteem. Dare she admit it, she was looking forward to conversing with Mr. Ace Blackstone. Besides, it had been awhile and at least she hoped he’d offer good conversation and a meal, which memories she could re-savor like the best leftovers from a gourmet spread.

  He is a sociologist. How interesting.

  She’d never dated a sociologist before; this would be a fascinating twist. Unlocking her front door, she headed out into the vast open hallway toward the parking garage and the restaurant to meet her date. A twinge of excitement danced and somersaulted in the pit of her belly…

  ~***~

  Ace traced the slightly raised skin under his eyebrow with the tip of his index finger. He’d never really felt self conscious about it before, until now. After all, it was his trademark. His nerves were on edge, he was excited to see Brooklyn, and a little guilt tore at him, too — but not just due to her pending arrival
.

  He’d confirmed the date an hour beforehand, and she responded with a timely text. Fumbling around in his chair at a table boasting the best location by the window, he waited with trepidation, hands fidgeting on the pristine white linen. Not even the bright purple vase, filled with colorful wild flowers, would temper his anxiety. He glanced out the yellow curtained window, noticing the slick road. Rain had begun to drizzle, dotting the glass before him as city and traffic lights broke through the darkness of the night sky. The sidewalk filled with people walking to and fro, people with divergent pasts, but ones they understood and could articulate. He was jealous of the fuckers. Clearing his throat, he turned away from the window, lowered his gaze to the table as if he were on assignment, and reflected deep within. A basket of untouched bread sat there, the kind of bread he hated — the hard kind, the unyielding kind, the kind that never gave up on causing sore gums from it’s hard, outer shell. That sourdough shit…

  The soft music and light clatter of forks hitting plates provided a soundtrack to a movie that played in his mind, while he sank in tension and unrest. Those damn nightmares…they were worse than ever. With his date on her way, he tried to get himself together. This was the wrong fucking time to have an anxiety attack, to think about the misery that wouldn’t let him get a wink of sleep. Butit had come upon him like the beast that it was, to steal his happiness and tranquility right before his planned evening of wine and frolicking.

  He’d taken a nap earlier in the day only to wake up in a frigid, cold sweat. Wheezing, he rose from the bed, coughing hard, his bare chest covered in a thin layer of perspiration. He cursed like a demon possessed and rolled clumsily out of bed, stomping and storming towards his master suite bathroom to take a much-needed cold shower. What was supposed to be a leisurely preparation for his night out: a slow, hot shower accompanied by loud music as he completed his ablutions, turned out to be an irritation. He kept pacing around, trying to calm his frazzled nerves and throw himself together to look somewhat presentable.