"The only certainties in this life are death and taxes," Brandon Jones said with a sigh. Lying on a hospital bed, in the intensive care unit of the Ottawa Hospital Civic Campus, Brandon felt his eyes drooping, although whether that had to do with the meds or his general tiredness, he couldn't say for sure. He would have fallen asleep again if it weren't for the small hand steadily gripping his...
"We met because you approached me to do your taxes, remember?" said Brandon's wife, Dhara Desai-Jones. The tall, curvy, pleasantly plump young woman flashed her husband a wan smile. Seated by the hospital bed, with a copy of author Chelsea Quinn Yarbro's novel Writ In Blood on her lap, Dhara was worn down and tired, but refused to leave Brandon's side.
"Actually, I saw you in the Carleton University library and just wanted to get your number, I just happened to have my tax forms with me," Brandon said, chuckling softly. Dhara laughed and shook her head, then playfully slapped his arm. To say that Dhara and Brandon came from different worlds would have been something of an understatement.
"I figured, I mean, you always looked so thirsty whenever you saw me," Dhara chided him, laughing, and Brandon nodded. He simply couldn't help himself, he felt butterflies in his stomach whenever he ran into the lovely Dhara. She always seemed so serene, the Sari-wearing beauty, originally from the Gujarat region of India.
What chance does a guy like me stand with a gal like that? Brandon wondered, and he felt those doubts for a long time. There are lovely women in every race, every culture, every background. What Brandon felt in Dhara's presence was different. When he looked into her eyes, he sensed a kindred spirit,
"Not my fault, sweetie, your butt threatened to burst out of that Sari and had a brother almost drooling," Brandon said, and he tried to laugh, but coughed violently instead. Concerned, Dhara drew near, and she looked into Brandon's eyes. Dhara hated to see her beloved Brandon like this, so vulnerable. He gently squeezed her hand even as he covered his mouth with a paper cloth.
"I'm going to get the nurse," Dhara said firmly, rising from her seat, and Brandon nodded, watching as his darling wife exited the room, and called for a nurse. Moments later, a nurse came by, the same older Haitian woman who had first tended to Brandon, a couple of days ago. He smiled as he suddenly recalled her name...
"Hello, Suzanne," Brandon said, and the nurse beamed at him, then nodded at Dhara. The two women exchanged a look. Seventy two hours ago, when Brandon was brought in, the doctors weren't sure he was going to make it. Working as a police officer is not the least hazardous of occupations, and the wives, girlfriends and partners of cops had their work cut out for them.
"Nurse, he's been coughing violently and his chest heaves," Dhara said, in a voice choked with emotion, and Suzanne nodded. Brandon closed his eyes, as a combination of fatigue, and the toll that his injuries took on his body wore him out and sent him tumbling to La-La-Land. The burly, dark-skinned stud was snoring within moments.
"He's going to be alright, dear, don't you worry," Suzanne Marceau said, looking at Dhara. The young woman nodded, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Suzanne, who'd been working as a Nurse for over two decades, gently laid a sympathetic hand on Dhara's shoulder. Dhara nodded, and then, the floodgates opened, and she wept for her husband's fate, and herself.
"Those bastards nearly killed him, just because he's black, and he's one of their own," Dhara said, both sad and angry, and Suzanne nodded sympathetically. Having emigrated to the City of Ottawa, Ontario, in the early 1990s, Suzanne was all too familiar with how violent the Capital of Canada could be. Brandon wasn't the first police officer to be brought in, barely breathing, and he wouldn't be the last...
"I'm sorry again, dear, but these things don't surprise me," Suzanne said softly, gently hugging Dhara. The older woman thought of her own son, Jacob, who once got roughed up by some bigots while visiting his girlfriend Patricia's family in the City of Calgary, Alberta. When Jacob and Patricia went to report the incident to the Calgary Police, they didn't do anything about it...
"I always knew, I always prepared myself for the day something might happen to him, but I thought it be a criminal who harmed him, not a fellow cop," Dhara said, shaking her head in anger and disgust. Suzanne bit her lip, deeply moved by the younger woman's anger and passion. Dhare definitely surprised her, to say the least...
Like a lot of women from the older generation, Suzanne had her share of doubts about interracial relationships. Suzanne was once strongly of the opinion that Black folks should marry their own, for folks of other races couldn't understand their struggle. Amazingly, this young Indian woman, Dhara, seemed to genuinely care for her husband Brandon, who was almost the same age as Suzanne's son Jacob...
"Dear, your Brandon is going to pull through, he's strong," Suzanne said, and she glanced at the wounded cop's sleeping form. The bullet had gone straight through with minimal damage, and Brandon would be up and running in a little while. He'd lost a lot of blood, sure, but a good transfusion and surgery definitely repaired a lot of the damage which he'd sustained.
"I pray for him," Dhara said, and Suzanne nodded, and gently urged the young woman to get ahold of herself. Dhara nodded and sat down, and after making sure that Brandon was on painkillers and that Dhara was alright, Suzanne left the room. In a busy hospital like this, a nurse's job is never done. There was always something for a nurse to do, and other patients to tend to. It's only on TV that the doctors do everything...
"I pray for your husband too, my dear," Suzanne said softly, glancing at Brandon and Dhara one last time as she headed down the hallway, grabbed a cart and made her way to the next patient. Lots of good people from loving families come to the hospital for various reasons and don't make it. Suzanne sincerely hoped that Brandon and Dhara would have a happy ending...
When Brandon Jones first set foot in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, he absolutely hated the place. It seemed so quiet and boring to the boisterous and outgoing young man. Born on the island of Saint Lucia, Brandon visited the U.S. and Canada many times with his family while growing up. Brandon always wanted to study in the U.S. but his parents, Lincoln and Genevieve Jones of Vieux Fort, Saint Lucia, convinced him to study in Ottawa, Canada, instead.
Brandon enrolled at Carleton University, where he majored in Criminology. It took him six years to get his degree, but during that time, he became a Canadian citizen. Brandon wouldn't have traded those years for the world, for during that time, he got to know Canadian society while working odd jobs. Along the way, Brandon also met the love of his life, Dhara Desai of Gujarat, India.
Conventional wisdom would have one believe that Indian ladies are off-limits for gentlemen of African or Afro-Caribbean origin. Brandon had seen an odd dynamic at work in the City of Ottawa. He saw lots of young Black women with Indian boyfriends, Arab boyfriends and Chinese boyfriends. This was fine, as far as Brandon was concerned, since he wasn't a hater...
Brandon noticed that he seldom saw Indian women, Arab women or Chinese women with Black boyfriends. Men from those cultures jealously guarded their women. Well, too bad because Brandon always went for who or what he wanted. When he first spotted Dhara at the Carleton University library, Brandon immediately felt drawn to her.
Gathering his courage, Brandon approached Dhara, under the pretext of needing help with his taxes. Sparks flew between them, and the rest was history. The happy couple stuck it out together. When Brandon finally earned his Criminology degree, to the relief of his family, Dhara was there to support him. When Dhara finally earned her double degrees in Business and Accounting, Brandon did everything short of hiring a marching band to celebrate her accomplishments...
Dhara's parents, Arvind and Anasuya Desai, were shocked when she introduced them to her future husband. Dhara loved Brandon and would not be dissuaded from sharing her life with him...however long or short that life might be. Some Indian ladies who went against their parents wishes when it came to matrimonial matters have lost their lives. Fortunately for Dhara, her parents put love ahead of the bonds of tradition, and that was that...
Brandon and Dhara were married in a lovely, intimate ceremony involving only their immediate families and a few friends from Carleton University. The couple had their honeymoon at the Jones family ancestral estate in Vieux Fort, Saint Lucia. The couple spent their time roaming the beaches, making love, eating delicious foods, and had themselves a grand old time.
Upon returning to Canada, Brandon went to the Ontario Police College, while Dhara began working for Howard & Randall Tax Agency. Brandon got hired as a constable by the Ottawa Police, and began his career in law enforcement. Brandon absolutely loved his job, for he'd always wanted to be a cop like his late grandfather Alphonse Jean Jones. Now it looked like his job might be the death of him...
"Come back to me, my love," Dhara said softly, gently kissing Brandon's forehead. Brandon stirred in his sleep, but did not wake up. Dhara frowned, still shocked at seeing him like this. Brandon had always been so fearless, and he walked around everywhere like he owned the place. At six-foot-three, Brandon was much taller than Dhara, who at five-foot-ten was considered tall by South Asian female standards.
