Chapter Fifty Nine
Jaime thought about God and what His plans were for her in the next few days. It wasn't something she did regularly, and enough. But as Jaime had found a decent dojo in Port Charles, something she'd never thought possible. In a small town like this, Jaime thought it would be impossible to find a decent instructor. Masters all over the world had trained her. Jaime always did one on one instruction. Most of the masters she'd trained with never taught with levels of instruction, which is why Jaime never trained in a dojo, but she knew that she probably wouldn't be able to do that in Port Charles.
During her times of meditation at Sensei Li's dojo, Jaime would meditate on God. It was the only thing she didn't like about learning karate in an organized training school. Karate taught meditation and the freeing of one's spirit and all that garbage. Jaime knew that it was just a way to let 'spirits' if you could call them that have a foothold in her life. She'd learned that in a Bible instruction class, called 'Wars in the Spiritual Realm'. It had been months since Jaime had attended any church service though, with the kidnapping and traveling and all.
Sensei Li dismissed the class. She'd worked up a sweat during class. Sensei Li hadn't decided what belt she'd be given, since she'd never received any training in a dojo before. Jaime had sparred with a few red belts and a few brown belts.
When Sensei Li had told them to break off into sparring partners, Jaime had chosen a man named Kent. He was a third degree black belt and fairly quick for his size. But unfortunately, since Sensei Li hadn't yet assessed her skills, he refused to allow Jaime to spar with him. Jaime prepared to leave when someone tapped her on the shoulder. "Jaime right?"
She frowned as she turned around. "Yes?" Jaime replied to the light chestnut-haired man whose hand rested on her shoulder. The man looked familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. "Do I know you from somewhere?" He could have been from the club, but Jaime didn't think so.
The man nodded. "I'm Johnny, Sonny's bodyguard. I picked you up the other day at the airport," explained Johnny.
Jaime nodded. "Yeah, I remember you! Sorry about that. I knew your face, but couldn't quite place it."
Johnny shrugged. "No problem. I was just wanting to tell you that I think you're good." She tilted her head, not quite sure to what he was referring. He rolled his eyes. "I mean the martial arts."
Jaime laughed. "Oh, yeah. Thanks." She glanced at her watch. It was almost 8 p.m. and The West Wing was about to go on, and she never missed the show. "I'm sorry to rush off like this, but I really have to get going," Jaime apologized.
Johnny nodded. "No problem. I'll see you Friday, maybe?" Jaime nodded and waved goodbye.
~ * ~
As Jaime quickly made her way home, she suddenly developed an uneasy feeling in her stomach. Walking briskly under the broken street lamps, Jaime felt like she was being followed. She stopped and turned around to look behind her. Nothing. Jaime shook her head. It was just her imagination running wild.
Jaime began to speed walk home. It was a quarter to seven and she didn't want to miss the beginning of The West Wing.
Crack.
Jaime jumped as she heard the sharp break of a brittle twig. Looking ahead, Jaime searched for the nearest lit building. As she neared the small white building, Jaime realized that it was a church. There was a floodlight above the main entrance, which lit the cement steps leading up to the double doors. Jaime pulled on the door handles and found it unlocked. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Hello?" called Jaime into the empty sanctuary.
The church had wooden pews with red velvet upholstering. In the front, was a blue velvet curtain with a large wooden cross, suspended in the center. It was simple but effective. On the sides of the church hung cream-colored banners. It was quite a lovely church. She'd never noticed it on her way home, but Jaime was glad she'd found it.
"Excuse me?" a voice called from behind, startling Jaime. She quickly turned around to face her stalker, and found a man dressed in mud stained jeans, and wearing a torn white t-shirt. "Can I help you?"
His hair was mussed, and he had a five o'clock shadow. Jaime swallowed hard. "What do you want?" demanded Jaime. The man frowned. "I think I could ask you the same thing?"
Jaime backed away as the man approached her. "Stay away, I don't want to hurt you!"
The stranger stopped and suddenly looked down at himself and laughed. He ran his hand through his dark brown hair and smiled. "I'm sorry. I must have scared you. I'm Pastor Denison." He held out a grease-stained hand.
Jaime frowned and debated whether he was telling the truth. Swallowing, she took a step forward and shook his hand. "Jaime."
He motioned for her to sit down in one of the pews. "I'm sorry for the way I look. Our boiler in the basement is in need of repairs, and well, I thought I could fix it," he explained. "Obviously from the looks of it, I can't say I did a very good job."
Jaime laughed at the joke. She felt the tension in her shoulders ease and Jaime relaxed. "Well, it's the thought that counts?" offered Jaime.
Pastor Denison chuckled. "Is there anything I can help you with? Even though I don't look like I could help a rock at this point?"
Jaime shook her head. "No. I just kind of ducked in here because I thought someone was following me." Pastor Denison frowned. "I can check outside if you'd like?"
She shook her head. "No. I'm just being paranoid. It was probably a cat or someone walking home too," dismissed Jaime.
The pastor shrugged. "I could even walk you home if you'd like?" Ignoring her casual attitude. Jaime smiled genuinely. "No, really," she replied. "I'm positive I'm fine. But I wouldn't mind just sitting here for a bit. I haven't been to church in a while."
Pastor Denison nodded. "Sure. But if you need anything, just holler. I'll be in the basement. My name's Keith, by the way."
"I'll be sure to do that. Thanks."
Jaime watched the grubby pastor head back down to the basement, and then turn back to the front of the church. She made her way up to the pulpit, which was made up of only a stage and a microphone.
'God,' Jaime prayed silently. 'What is going on? I just feel like I don't know what I'm doing lately.'
Suddenly she heard a gust of wind rush past her ear. Jaime opened her eyes and as she stared at the entrance of the church. A man stood in front of the main doors. He was wearing a grey suit and a black tie. His hands hung at his sides and his eyes seemed to gleam in the shadows.
Rosco.
~~~
He didn't know what he was doing in Port Charles. In fact, Rosco knew damn well that he should have been lying around on some small island in the Jamaicans. He'd been hiding out at one of Sorel's old haunts. It was a safehouse that no one knew about. Rosco was comfortable there, since Sorel's idea of a secluded safehouse, included a bi-level house with all amenities. For that, Rosco was deeply grateful.
In the couple of weeks since he'd been in Port Charles, Rosco made sure he'd kept himself out of sight of the men he was sure Nam and Corinthos had looking for him. He'd covered his tracks well, something Rosco had always been good at, but he didn't know that it really mattered at this point. Rosco had ordered Arlo to keep an eye out for Jaime.
The two women hadn't returned to Port Charles right away, which made Rosco antsy. He didn't have any real business in Port Charles, and he was a hunted man. For both of these reasons, Rosco felt a gnawing instinct to get out of Dodge.
Arlo came with news about Jaime's return five days into his stay in the quaint town. It took Rosco a few days to decide how to approach the situation. And even with the few days, Rosco realized that there was no protocol or even any type of plan, for this type of reunion of sorts. Finally, he decided he'd confront her.
Rosco didn't know what to expect from their first meeting since their unexpected kiss, but he hoped that it would resolve whatever feelings he had for this woman. "That's why I'm doing this," he said out loud to himself. "I just want to resolve the reason for the kiss, and then I can move on with the rest of my life."
Arlo informed Rosco that she had an evening at the Li's Dojo that night. He'd waited till it was over before following her to the church. Jaime seemed to know that he was following her though, and dashed into the church. He peered through a near by window, wary of any parishners who might be lurking around the building.
She stood gazing at the front of the church. Her hair was twisted haphazardly into a bun. Jaime's cheeks were rosy from the physical workout. A disheveled man entered the sanctuary behind Jaime and seemed to startle her. She stepped back into a defensive position until the man seemed to say something to put her at ease. Jaime shook his hand and smiled at the older stranger. After a moment, Rosco let out a sigh of relief, the man was finally leaving, giving him an opportunity to finally reveal himself to Jaime. Rosco made his way to the door.
~~~
Jaime swallowed hard. "Who's there?"
The figure stepped out of the shadows. Jaime was prepared to see her former captor. "Rosco?"
"No, it's not Rosco. Why? Were you expecting him?" Mr. Nam asked sternly, presenting himself to his daughter.
A flood of relief seemed to wash over her and Jaime shrank down into the nearby pew. "Dad," she whispered.
Jaime hadn't expected her father to appear before her. To Jaime, it seemed more likely that Rosco rather than her father would appear out of the darkness. "Why are you here?" Jaime asked, finally finding her voice.
Mr. Nam walked into the church with his head held high. His aura was one of distain for the holy sanctuary. "I came to check up on you. And it's a good thing, if you are thinking that Rosco is following you," he chided.
Jaime took a deep breath and gathered her composure in front of the stern mobster father. "I never said that Rosco was here. It's just that all you gangsters in your expensive Armani suits all look alike to me," retorted Jaime. "I don't need you to check up on me. I haven't need you to do that since I was 15."
Mr. Nam looked disdainfully at his disrespectful daughter. "I have heard rumors that Rosco might be in Port Charles. I have my men looking for him. I just came to tell you to stay out of this Jaime."
She swallowed hard. "Or what?" Jaime looked defiantly at her father.
"I do not want you to get hurt." He shook his head. "Now for once, listen to what I have to say."
Jaime bit her lip and began fidgeting with her hands. "No. Why don't you just leave everything alone?" she pleaded. "I'm tired of this. He let me go and he's gone to some foreign island. I'm sure he's probably lying around sipping margaritas."
"Don't be naïve Jaime!" Mr. Nam raised his voice in frustration. "He didn't just let you go. Rosco's got a plan. They always do."
Jaime looked up at the flickering ceiling lamp above her. She remembered the tender, but passionate kiss. Shaking her head, Jaime stood up and walked towards her father until she was a couple of feet away. "I want you out of Port Charles Dad. And don't ever come back."
Jaime began to walk past her father, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled Jaime close to him. "This is not about what you want Jaime. The man took my daughter and threatened her. He disrespected me and my family." She was only a few inches away from her father's face. He was seething with anger, masked only by an expressionless face.
Struggling to release herself from her father's grip, Jaime pulled away and shook his head. "I only feel sad for you. You have nothing but your honor and revenge," whispered Jaime. "You don't even know what the meaning of family is anymore. If Mom were alive, she'd be ashamed at the man you've become. Cold and heartless."
Jaime watched to see if her words even penetrated the hard shell her father had built around himself. It didn't. Turning on her heel, Jaime walked out into the cold night air.