Twisted Truth A Seth St. James Novel Series
Author: Kiffany Dugger Preview
The Legend…Seth St. James
After twenty-six hours and thirty-seven minutes of labor, my son Kaleb came bursting out of my womb, screaming at the top of his tiny lungs. Our screams were simultaneously in sync. Over a year ago, I’d been shot and attempted to take my own life by stabbing myself in the chest, but this was by far the worst pain I’d ever experienced. I felt like I was going to split in half. When I looked at Kaleb’s beautiful face and held his soft warm body against mine, I knew it was worth every bit of discomfort I’d experienced over a nine month period. After he was born, I held my son in my arms and unwrapped his tightly swaddled blanket. I carefully counted his fingers and toes; they were all accounted for. My new baby boy was perfect. Although Kaleb had been a true blessing from God, I had never been able to truly enjoy his existence. For the first nine months of his life, I stared into Kaleb’s green eyes day and night. I stared deep into his angelic face to see if he resembled my husband Alex or my ex-lover Clark. I think I expected him to change into either Alex or Clark over night. Alex loves Kaleb and has never verbally questioned his paternity. Alex was aware of what I went through in order to free myself from the shackles of my past. I was certain that doubt still lingered in his heart. It was difficult to determine my child’s heritage based on physical appearance alone. Clark’s’s skin tone was rich like honey. His green eyes were mysterious and inviting. With one gaze, Clark could take you on a journey into his world leaving you wanting to know more. Alex’s complexion was more of a smooth dark chocolate. His big beautiful round brown eyes would lull you into a hypnotic trance until you were left hanging onto his every word. Mattie told me when Kaleb was born that he would get darker as he got older. At ten months old he was still the color of caramel. I found comfort in the fact that I too had a caramel colored hue and my eyes were green. As time passed I had learned to stop obsessing over my child’s paternity. I had turned my attention to more pressing matters. Day after day I sat and waited for something to come and take away the life that I’d worked so hard to build with Alex and the kids. I felt as though there was something out there waiting in the shadows for me. I could feel it in my bones. I thought that when the door to my past closed it would be locked forever, but somehow I think I had just scratched the surface. With all that I’d done and all that I’d been through, I bore an even greater burden than before. In the underground world I had become an urban myth. My name escaped the lips of hustlers, thieves and murders in a mere whisper. No one dared to believe that I emerged after twenty years of hiding to take the life of my own flesh and blood. So, I continued to sit and wait until someone would come along and dare me to live up to that legend…the legend that was me, the legend that is Seth St. James!
Chapter Three The morning of my husband’s funeral, I stood in front of the window in the study staring out across the yard as the cars lined the road. Since Alex’s death, people had been camping outside the ranch holding prayer vigils, leaving cards, flowers, basketballs and stuffed animals. Reporters were waiting like vultures hoping to catch a glimpse of me or the kids, but I kept security tight around the house. Alex was a phenomenal athlete with a wonderful spirit and people were deeply hurt by his passing. The outpour of love that was shown after Alex’s death made me feel unworthy of being loved by such an exceptional human being. With the life I’d led I didn’t deserve to spend one minute being Alex’s wife. Feeling sorry for myself, I walked back toward my room to prepare for the funeral. I felt like I was going to break into a billion pieces. Who was going to take care of me? Who was going to save me from my true self? Alex had been my rock. He was the reason that I became a devoted mother and wife, instead of a wild stallion. Entering my bedroom, I threw myself on the bed and buried my face in the duvet. Lying face down, I tried to cry, but I couldn’t. I began to wonder what was wrong with me; I had not cried since the day that Alex died. I was trying so hard to be strong for everyone else that I had not found time to grieve for my husband. In my mind I felt that once the funeral was over, I would begin to rebuild my family and pick up the pieces of my life. Since Alex’s death I felt like I was constantly trying to catch my breath. His death had taken my breath away. I felt that once the casket was sealed for good and he was buried in the ground I would be able to breathe again. Turning my head toward the wall, my eyes were drawn to the life size black and white of Alex and I that had been given to us as a wedding present by our photographer. Trying to shake the image of Alex from my head, I closed my eyes and remembered the day that I first saw him. Alex and I had been best friends since I moved into our old neighborhood in Houston. Alex was the only person outside of Mattie that I trusted since the night that my family was destroyed and Mattie and I fled from our home over twenty years ago. I arrived in Houston still shaken from the sight of seeing my mother and father killed and my fraternal twin sister blown into the air after our house exploded. Not only had my world been turned upside down, but I was forced to forget my parents and my sister. I could never ever mention that they existed. I could never be called by my birth name, Noel Toussaint. I had to learn my new name and learn to live as Seth St. James. That was an astronomical task for an eight-year-old little girl whose only worry up until that night was wondering what I would take for show-and-tell the next day. My mother left a hefty insurance policy and inheritance that afforded Mattie and I to continue to lead the lifestyle that we were used to leading. Shortly after Mattie and I had settled into the house the doorbell rang. Peering out the window I saw a tall, lanky, dark-skinned boy with a curly mini afro, a stripped shirt with jeans and tennis shoes standing on the other side of the door nervously awaiting to meet the new kid on the block. Mattie opened the door and Alex greeted her. He explained that he lived across the street, he noticed that she had a child and he was anxious to have a new playmate even if I was a girl. Unfortunately, because we were still trying to keep a low profile, Mattie turned him away and we did not officially meet until we attended school that next Monday. Alex and I became best friends until the day that he walked out of the house to get peaches and never returned. Trying to convince myself to get ready for the funeral, I sat on the side of the bed and stared at a blank spot on the wall. Sitting there in silence, the last two years of my life played out in my head like a motion picture. Two years prior I revealed the secret of my true identity to Alex and it seemed that his love for me grew stronger. I told Alex things about my life that I could never tell another human that wasn’t apart of the underground world that I tried hard to keep secret. I must admit that I never really understood or appreciated the depths of Alex’s love for me. He knew that associating with me meant that his life was in danger, but somehow our love weathered that storm.
As I walked down the isle of the church, I stared at the casket that my husband’s body was lying in. The room was filled with celebrities, dignitaries and some ordinary people that all loved Alex dearly. I kept telling myself that I needed to be strong and I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t show weakness in front of all those people. My head was working overtime to convince myself that because I was Seth St. James I could not break down. I’d experienced enough grief, tragedy and plain old bullshit in my lifetime to make it through my husband’s funeral without losing control. I tried to reach back and find the person that I was before Alex and I made a lifelong commitment to each other. I tried to find that cold-hearted bitch that felt no pain and didn’t give a damn about anyone. I searched my soul to find the person that sold other women each night to the highest bidder. I desperately tried to find the women that took that poor, unfortunate girl Angel’s life and the lives of many men thereafter. I tried to find the woman that stared into the face of the men that was responsible for killing her family and killed each of them in cold blood. Walking down the aisle, feeling uncomfortable as the eyes of mourners stuck to me like damp clothing on a scorching hot summer day, I closed my eyes and inhaled the dark haunting spirit of the moment. I tried to take the energy from that room filled with sadness and bury it deep in the darkness that covered my soul. Somehow, I thought that if I tucked that energy away, the sounds of sorrow as people wept and wailed would disappear. I continued to search my mind for a happy place, but I could only find the remnants of my past. I was drawn back to that place of calamity before Alex came along and saved me. The closer I got to Alex’s casket it seemed to grow ten times in size and I shrunk into that frightened eight-year-old little girl that mourned her family’s death. Finally reaching Alex’s casket, preparing to look at him for the last time, I desperately tried to maintain control. Standing there staring at someone that I didn’t know, my heart sank to my feet and my throat grew tight almost choking the life out of me. That man lying in that box was not my husband. Holding my hand to my stomach, I became ill at the thought that my last image of Alex would be a pale, ashy-faced shell wearing pasty foundation and stuffed into that tight space where he would rest forever. I was not sure what I expected to see, but that man did not look like my husband. Suddenly, I felt a wave of heat flash through my body and my knees grew weak. The two men standing on each side of me grabbed me and escorted me to my seat a few feet away from the casket. I watched them as they closed the lid leaving my husband trapped in the dark forever. It seemed as though I had sat in that spot for an eternity with my eyes glued to that casket. I sat through the entire service with my mind blank, void of any tangible thought. Listening to one of the greatest singers in the world sing, “Soon I will be Done,” I felt something inside me boil and finally erupt spilling out into the air. Becoming overwhelmed with grief, I could hear myself wail and moan. It was such a surreal moment as I felt the warm tears stream down my face and fall into my lap. I couldn’t believe that Alex was gone and I’d never see him again. I was experiencing an out of body experience that I could not control. Struggling to breathe, I finally realized that the moment was real. It wasn’t a feeling of grief, but of fear. I knew that without Alex, I was left alone to tame the beast that lived inside me. I realized that I was in for the fight of my life.
To be Continued….