Rescue Me by Farrah Rochon Page A

wonder; he could stare at her for hours on end and still marvel at the gift God had given him when He’d blessed him and Chantal with their daughter. Jasmine was the one thing that prevented Alex from completely regretting his ill fated marriage.
    It wasn’t until Jasmine asked, “What, Daddy?” that Alex realized he was still staring at her.
    “Nothing,” he answered. “How was your music class?” he asked, using his fork to break off a chunk of meat loaf.
    “I got to play the cymbals,” Jazz answered around a mouthful of potatoes. He couldn’t fault her for this slip in manners. He
had
asked the question just as she was stuffing the potatoes into her mouth.
    Alex wished they could sit and talk cymbals throughout dinner, but that would be avoiding the issue. Dr. Powell had recommended Alex broach the subject of Jasmine’s behavior since he had already been at the school for nearly a week.
    “How do you feel about me hanging out at the school?” Alex asked.
    She scrunched up her mouth and shrugged.
    “What’s that face supposed to mean?”
    “I don’t know,” Jazz mumbled.
    “Well, do you like me being at the school, or do you want me to start staying home?”
    Another shrug.
    This was going well. “Jazz, do you know why I’ve been helping out at the school lately?” Alex asked.
    “Because Grandma and the doctor said you can’t pick up big stuff at your job,” she answered.
    Alex chuckled. Of course, Grandma’s orders rated higher than the doctor’s.
    “That’s true,” he said, “but that’s not the only reason I’ve been at your school this week. You know why Daddy had to put you on punishment, right? Because you called Mrs. Overland nasty names and threw the chalkboard eraser at her.”
    She slumped her head, burying her chin in her chest.
    “Why did you do that?” Alex asked.
    She hitched her shoulders, but said nothing as she pushed the remaining potatoes around her plate.
    “Jasmine, look at me.”
    She raised her head and her eyes were bright with unshed tears, her bottom lip quivering.
    Alex clenched his fist against the urge to pull her into his arms and tell her all was forgiven, but that wouldn’t solve this problem. She needed to admit to what she had done.
    “Why did you throw the eraser and call Mrs. Overland names, Jasmine?”
    “I don’t know,” came a tremulous reply.
    “You know it was wrong, don’t you?”
    She nodded.
    “So, why did you do it?” he asked again.
    Another shrug and a huge snuffle, followed by a single tear that trailed down her cheek and landed on the edge of her plate.
    He couldn’t do this. One of the hardest things for him to endure was seeing his little girl cry, and he could not stomach being the cause of her tears.
    “Come here, baby.” Alex pushed back from the table and held out his hand. Jasmine leaped out of her chair and onto his lap.
    He knew he would have to get to the root of her discipline problem soon, but Alex wasn’t up for that discussion today. She’d admitted the name calling was wrong. That was a start.
    “I’m sorry, Daddy,” came her soft, muffled voice.
    “I know, baby,” Alex answered. He wrapped his good arm around her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I know.”
    Alex pulled up to the curb at the address Renee had written on the pamphlet and shifted his truck into park. He was finally getting the hang of one handed driving. He walked up the cemented walkway that led to a classic Creole style cottage with a wide wraparound porch. Even though the house was on pillars, the faint water line that still rimmed the exterior siding suggested the house had taken in a good four feet of water. The homes in this neighborhood had remained submerged in floodwaters for nearly two weeks after Hurricane Katrina. Whatever the actual water had not destroyed had probably been ruined by toxic mold.
    Alex spotted the small pop up camper off to the side. The trailers issued to residents by the Federal Emergency Management