Chapter ten

Jake walked down the hall of Rachel's large mansion, followed by Marco. For some reason, they had become inseparable, the best of friends. It was strange, almost illegal, to be best friends with a 'colored' boy.

But, Jake didn't care about that. Marco was his friend, and that was how he liked it.

Suddenly, as he was walking down the hallway silently, Jake heard frantic whispers coming from the kitchen. Holding his breath, Jake looked through the keyhole. His mother and his aunt were speaking softly, glancing around as if they didn't want to be overheard.

Jake turned to leave.

"I hardly ever see him…" Rachel's mother said, kneading some dough.

 "Yes… never here. Is Rachel upset?" Jake's mother agreed, shaking her head. She began to slice a potato vigorously.

"I don't know. She's been very distant lately… something about John."

Jake leaned in further to hear.

"Could it mean something?" His mother asked, looking thoughtful.

"What?"

"Maybe Rachel is really in love. She's probably worried about the wedding, though. The poor dear… What does your husband have to say about it?" Rachel's mother fidgeted and looked up at Jake's mother.

"I told you. I scarcely see him. He's always off doing this or that. I never could get it out of him – he was very unclear. I do hope he's not gambling…"

"Where is he now?" Jake's mother asked earnestly. Jake's aunt shrugged and continued to knead the bread.

"How would I know? He's probably off drinking with his friends again. That's what he was doing yesterday before the reunion," at this Rachel's mother clucked her tongue, "he came home a mess. I had to clean him up. He said that he fell asleep. Bah! The man needs to keep track of the time."

At this Jake's mother shook her head in agreement. Her counterpart continued, muttering to herself, "always coming home late… drunk, I suspect. Some nights he doesn't come home at all. Years, I tell you! Years! I haven't had a good nights rest in that long, waiting for him to march himself through that door, finally wearing a sorry expression on his face."

Jake's aunt sighed and rolled the bread dough. Jake's mother looked at her, concerned.

"Should I get you some more flour, dear? The dough's sticking."

Jake jumped back as his mother came through the kitchen door and looked at him in surprise.

"Hello, Jake," she said, smiling, "where's Rachel?"

"She's on a walk. Mother, could you tell her parents? She wanted to be alone."

"Sure. I'll do that." Jake's mother smiled at him and continued down to the pantry to get some flour. Jake turned to Marco, who was staring at him in confusion.

"What was that, Jake?" He asked. Jake lifted up his hands in exasperation.

"I don't know Marco. I just don't know."