A King's Ransom by Powell

Author:Powell [Powell, Toi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The TOI House
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Jerome turns off the Belt Parkway and onto the Van Wyck Expressway. It’s six thirty. He’s been in traffic all day. On the way to New York, he tried calling his wife to tell her that he’d spoken to Ruby, that he was on his way to get her, but she didn’t pick up the phone—or maybe, she wouldn’t. Her voicemail was full and she didn’t return his texts. Either he had a poor signal on the highway or his wife was more furious with him than he’d thought. He tries to remain focused on getting his daughter home safely, without incident. His little feud with Marcia would have to wait.

Jerome pulls up to a house on 153rd Road and kills the engine. His stomach feels like a bubbling ocean of nerves.

One step in front of the other, Jerome.

He gets out and makes his way to the front door. This house has seen better days. The shutters could use a fresh coat of paint and the brick at the base of the structure is crumbling. He wonders if there are foundation issues. His concerns do nothing but prolong the task at hand. If he could have avoided this visit, he would have.

Jerome rings the doorbell five times and he waits impatiently. He notices a small scuff on the sole of his boot.

His wandering thoughts takes him on a distracting journey from noticing the smallest amount of lint on his jacket to thoughts of retreat which grow stronger the longer he waits. Finally, the locks unlatch slowly from the other side. He brushes the lint from his clothes and straightens his posture. At the last second, he removes his hat and hides it behind his back.

Nana Brown peeks from behind the crack in the door, careful not to open it wider than a smidge. She isn’t expecting anyone. She never expects anyone. No one ever comes to visit, besides a random church member bringing her and Pam a plate for Sunday dinner. But it isn’t Sunday.

Her eyes widen.

“How dare you!” the words slither out of her mouth, breathy and slow.

Jerome stands before the old woman. Words escape him as his mouth refuses to comply.

“The nerve of you to show your face after all these years!”

The last time Jerome had seen her, she looked ten years younger. She very well may have been ten years younger. She had always been a sickly woman but back then, she had a little color to her cheeks. Now it looks as if all the blood has drained from her face. Her skin is dull, weathered, deeply creased and – pale. She’s using a cane to support her weight, which can’t be much because she’s drowning in her house robes.

His throat tightens as he silently watches the frail old woman cling to life before his very eyes.

“Mrs. Brown, I really don’t mean to intrude but, I wouldn’t have come here unless it was an emergency. You see…”

Nana gasps. She tries to close the door on him with her all of her strength, but he’s too strong.

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