Dedication
To the dreamers
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Map
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Author’s Note
About the Author
Also by Beverly Jenkins
Copyright
About the Publisher
Map
Prologue
Ten-year-old Lucas Herman, riding in the backseat of the SUV with his eight-year-old sister, Jasmine, saw her jump with fright in response to the booming claps of thunder outside. She didn’t like storms, never had. But he was the oldest, way too big to be afraid of the violent weather, or at least that’s what he told himself. Hoping his fears couldn’t be heard in his voice, he asked the driver, their uncle Jake, “Should we stop?” Rain was coming down in sheets and the SUV’s wipers were swinging back and forth like crazy.
“Where?” his uncle called back, attention glued to the road. “We’re out here in the middle of nowhere.”
And they were. Kansas, if Lucas remembered correctly. They’d passed a small town a short while ago. At that time, the sky had been bluer than any he’d ever seen back home in Dayton. A few minutes later it went dark as night. Then came the wind followed by pouring rain, crackling lightning and ominous growling thunder. He didn’t know how his uncle could see to drive, but the big black SUV crept on through the deluge. Uncle Jake Gleason wasn’t really a relative. He was their dad’s fraternity brother. Two year ago, their parents, Daphne and Elliot, died in a car accident. When no family members stepped up to take in Lucas and Jasmine, they became wards of the state of Ohio and placed in separate foster homes. Jake had been trying to adopt them ever since. A few days ago, he finally gained approval and was now driving them across the country to Sacramento, California, where he lived with his wife, Leslie. Lucas didn’t know what the future held but being reunited with Jaz was the most important thing. Little sisters could be a pain in the butt but he loved her and had missed her just as much as he did his parents.
Another boom of thunder filled the car and Jasmine jumped again and put her hands over her ears. Lucas reached out and took her hand. “It’s okay, Jaz. Don’t be scared. It’s just a storm.”
But it seemed to be more than that. The thunder and flashing lightning were increasing in frequency.
Uncle Jake shouted over the din, “We have to stop. I can’t see anymore!”
Lucas peered out into the rain and shouted, “There’s a house!” It was set back from the road. The flashes of lightning made it pop in and out of view like something from a scary movie but he didn’t care. Apparently, Uncle Jake didn’t, either. He drove up to the house and stopped. There were no lights on inside.
“You two stay here. I’ll see if anyone’s home.” Before getting out, he turned to them and said in a serious voice, “If anything happens lock the doors and stay in the car. I’m leaving you my phone. Okay?”
Lucas took the phone and tried not to acknowledge the icy sense of foreboding he suddenly felt. He wanted to tell him not to go, but rather than act like a baby, he stayed silent.
“Take care of your sister. I’ll be right back.”
The door opened. Rain and wind screamed in. Uncle Jake bolted out, slamming the door behind him. Lucas saw him climb the stairs before the rain hid him from view. He and Jasmine waited tensely.
“I hope somebody’s home,” Jasmine said.
“Me, too.” He prayed Uncle Jake returned quickly and wished he could see him but the storm continued to rage. The wind was now so strong the car was rocking. He heard what sounded like a train, and time seemed to slow as the SUV began tumbling end over end. Windows shattered. Jaz screamed. A terrified Lucas undid his seat belt and threw his body over hers to protect her from the stinging debris and rain now swirling inside the car. Something struck him in the head and everything went black.
Chapter 1
She was making her way through the thick tropical vegetation of a rain forest. She had no idea why she was there or where she was going but there was a yellow brick road beneath the boots on her feet, so she followed it. This wasn’t Oz, though; there was no Tin Man, Lion, or Scarecrow. No Dorothy or Toto, either. Just humidity, the yellow brick road, and towering fern-like foliage that dwarfed her six-foot frame. Suddenly the vegetation vanished and she stood on a coppery-reddish plain that reminded her of the flat openness of desert. Off in the distance a gray mountain range loomed against a cloudy sky. The harsh cry of a bird drew her eyes up to a majestic black-and-white harpy eagle flying above. Its huge wingspan and distinctive crested head made it instantly recognizable. It screamed again, circled her a few times, and flew off toward the mountains. Raptors were the spirit animals of her Black Seminole clan, so, taking the harpy’s presence as a sign, she followed.
The eagle returned every few minutes, circled above before flying off again as if urging her forward. When she finally reached the rocky base of the mountain, she glanced up. The summit was shrouded in clouds but the urge to climb was strong, so after searching, she found a narrow path and began the ascent. The eagle sounded once again and flew directly at her. It now wore the face of a dark-skinned woman. That startled her so badly, she woke up.
Tamar came out of the dream sitting up in bed. The harpy’s harsh caw seemed to call to her across the distance. The lighted dial of the clock on her nightstand showed it to be 5:00 a.m. The details of the dream lingered. She’d never been a vivid dreamer. In fact, she rarely remembered them at all, but this one was memorable if only for the scenario. What had the rain forest represented and what would she have discovered at the mountain’s peak? The woman’s face on the eagle had been as dark as her own. And that made her wonder if it was somehow tied to her ancestor, the First Tamar, who’d died in the 1880s. Per legend she walked in the dreams of July family members, a legend proven true a few years ago, when she showed in the form of a hawk to Tamar’s adopted great-grandson Amari. Tamar drew her hands down her face. It hadn’t been a nightmare but it had left her shaken.
She slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment to let the aches and grumbles of her ninety-plus-year-old bones have their say before she could move. Age ain’t nothing but a number, she scoffed. In truth, though, she was thankful for the discomfort because it meant the Spirit had blessed her with another day to keep an eye on the goings-on in the town of her birth. Henry Adams, Kansas, was founded in the late 1870s by freed slaves. The Julys took up residence in the 1880s. Back then, her Black Seminole ancestors had been famous all over the west for their train-robbing outlaw ways, until Hanging Judge Isaac Parker threw his gavel at them and turned the family into law-abiding citizens. In the years since, Henry Adams had its ups and downs, but by the beginning of the twenty-first century it hovered near death’s door. No tax base, no young people, no jobs. Salvation arrived in the form of outsider Bernadine Brown, who purchased the town lock, stock, and barrel on eBay. Thanks to Bernadine’s vast wealth and business acumen, the town where Tamar reigned as matriarch now boasted brand-new buildings, new residents, and a state-of-the-art infrastructure that made it the envy of every small city around.
Tamar finally stood and slipped on her robe and her slippers. Crossing the quiet r
oom to the open screened window, she looked out over the plains surrounding her home and the small creek that ran behind it. Elements of the dream returned but she set them aside. The area had had a series of violent storms yesterday and she wouldn’t be surprised to learn a few tornadoes had touched down. Kansas summers often brought terrible weather and she hoped no one had been hurt. All was well now, though. The sun was rising red against the pink-and-gray sky of dawn, and the air was cooler, free of the humid mugginess so prevalent over the past week. The town’s new swimming pool would be opening later that day and she was looking forward to the celebration. There was no telling what else might happen before sunset, because something was always going on in Henry Adams. With that in mind, she left the bedroom to start her day and hoped the dream would let her be.
Rochelle “Rocky” Dancer was a co-owner of Dog and Cow, Henry Adams’s only diner. At 6:00 a.m., she entered the kitchen by the back door to the sounds of pots and pans being slammed around by her young head chef, Matt “Sizzle” Burke. She didn’t know what had him so upset, but she stood and watched as he smacked a skillet down on the flat top then stormed to the big standing fridge, withdrew a carton of eggs from inside, and slammed the door as if it were the object of his rage. Before he could damage her kitchen or himself, she cleared her throat.
He turned to the sound but the anger on his face remained. “Hey, Rock.”
She placed her purse on the steel prep table. “Morning, Siz. What’s up?”
“My boyfriend and I are fighting. Again.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Yes, boyfriend. His name’s Stephen and he’s a controlling jerk.”
Rocky was still stuck on the boyfriend part. “How come I didn’t know you were gay?”
He stopped cracking eggs. “That a problem?”
“Of course not. I just never knew, that’s all.”
“Guess it never came up.”
“Guess not. So, do you want to talk about it?”
He blew out an impatient-sounding breath. “I’ve known I was gay since middle school. My family knows.”
“No, Siz. Not about that. Why are you and Stephen fighting?”
“Oh.” He smiled ruefully. “I got an offer to work for one of the best chefs in the country at his restaurant in Miami. Steph says I’ll be abandoning him if I say yes.”
“What’s Steph do for a living?” Siz had been trying for years to find a chef to take him on. Texan Randy Emerson, one of the assistant cooks, was now training to be his replacement.
“Construction.”
“Seems like he should be able to find a job there. All they do in Miami is build.”
“That’s what I said, but he doesn’t want to move. He’s lived in Kansas all his life and refuses to care that I may never get a chance like this again.”
Rocky walked over to the sink and washed her hands. Siz was like the nephew she’d never had and she didn’t enjoy seeing him upset. “What about a long-distance relationship?”
“He shot that down, too. Either I stay or we’re done.”
“That sounds kind of harsh. How long have you two been together?”
“Almost six months, and I really thought he was the one. Guess not.” Siz then asked, “What would you do, Rock?”
She shrugged. “No idea. I’m still trying to get used to the idea of being in love with Jack enough to marry him next month, so I’m probably not the person you should be looking to for advice. Reverend Paula’s good at this kind of thing, maybe talk to her.”
“Maybe.”
Reverend Paula Grant had degrees in theology and child psychology. When people had problems, she was the town’s go-to person. She was both patient and wise. Over the past few years, Rocky had talked to her a lot about everything from losing her mom as a child to making peace with herself about being worthy of Jack James’s love. Rocky wasn’t totally convinced marriage was right for her, but Reverend Paula had helped her get comfortable enough with the idea to admit how much she did love Jack, and to say yes to his proposal. Now, she had to find the courage to walk down the aisle. “I do think that if he truly loved you, he’d want the best for you.”
“I told him that.”
“And his response?”
“That I’m just thinking about myself.”
“Have you talked to your parents about it?”
He began cutting veggies for the omelets so popular with the breakfast crowd. “I have. My mom says go to Miami whether he wants me to or not. She’s never liked Stephen to begin with—says he’s needy and manipulative. Dad agrees with her. He said I could probably find somebody in Miami who really cares for me and isn’t ashamed of it.”
“What’s he mean by that?”
“Stephen’s still in the closet. Doesn’t want his parents to know he’s gay.”
“Oh, Siz.” She found that so disappointing.
“I know, Rock. I know. It’s complicated.” For a few silent moments, he cut onions, then said, “Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out.”
Rocky hoped so. Siz was young, intelligent, and talented, not only in the kitchen but musically as well. His jazz band Bloody Kansas played at the Dog monthly. In a vibrant and diverse city like Miami he’d come into his own, but not if bullied into giving up his dreams. “I’m going to open up. Make an appointment to see Reverend Paula. I’m sure she’ll be able to help you figure this out.”
“Okay.”
From his lackluster tone, she wasn’t sure he would follow through, but Rocky was convinced that if anyone could help him it was Paula. Out in the dining room, she stopped a moment to say good morning to the Dog’s other co-owner, Malachi July. He was in his mid-sixties, a retired county veterinarian, and had ten years of sobriety under his belt. He was also the son of town matriarch Tamar July and was dating town owner Bernadine Brown. When Rocky’s dad passed away two and a half decades ago, Mal was among those who’d stepped up to fill the hole in her life.
“Morning, Rock. The two new cooks start today?”
“Yes, and we need them badly.” Because of Siz’s amazing cooking skills diners were flocking to the Dog like the staff was handing out winning lotto tickets. Randy was a great help but more bodies were needed.
“You could’ve given me an apron to help out.”
She snorted. “Yeah right.” Mal oversaw the books, seating, and greeting, but was not allowed in the kitchen. Back in the diner’s early days, he’d almost burned the place down and now wasn’t allowed to cook even an egg. Although he did help out pouring coffee.
“Hater,” he said with a mock sneer.
“And proud to be.”
He went to his office and she went back to making sure the dining room was ready.
The breakfast crowd began arriving a short while later. As always, the place was packed with locals, construction crews, folks who lived in neighboring towns like Franklin, and everyone else looking for a good meal. The diner’s candy-apple-red jukebox, recently named Gina after songstress Regina Belle, was offering the sweet jazzy sounds of Boney James’s sax, which perfectly complemented the morning vibe. Always one to help her young waitstaff, Rocky carried a tray loaded down with plates over to a table of carpenters. Out of the corner of her eye, Rocky saw her fiancé Jack James enter.
Mal, who’d come out of the office to help, caught her look. “You got yourself a good man in him, Rock.”
Unable to take her eyes off Jack, she nodded. “I know. Let’s just hope I don’t screw it up.”
“Stop that,” he said firmly. “Just go with your heart and you’ll be fine.”
Henry Adams had no secrets. Everyone knew how antsy she was about this whole marriage thing. Jack loved her and she definitely loved him, but she continued to believe he could do much better than a motorcycle-loving chick like herself who preferred riding leathers over fancy dresses and couldn’t let go of the fear that the mental illness that claimed her mother would suddenly rise from within and take her, too.
But each and every t
ime his eyes met hers like now, his smile seemed to vanquish her inner demons and fears, and all she could see was happiness. “Will you get the order from booth number four so I can go say good morning?”
“Sure can.”
Arriving at Jack’s booth, she poured coffee into his cup. “Morning, Professor. How are you?”
“Always better when I see you.”
Jack was a dark-haired, dark-eyed, gorgeous male who flirted better than anyone she’d ever met. “Are we still on for the movie tonight?” he asked.
“Yes.” Every Friday night Henry Adams showed movies in the recreation center’s auditorium and people of all ages came from miles around to attend the family friendly event. “Jurassic Park is one of my all-time favorites.”
“Mine, too.”
Rocky realized she was staring at him like something she wanted to spend a lifetime savoring. As if reading her mind, he chuckled, “You should probably take my order before someone yells at us to get a room.”
Embarrassment heated her cheeks and she dropped her gaze. When she raised it again his eyes sparkled with humor and she said, “You’re right. I’ll get your order out asap.”
“Thanks.” But before she got too far, he caught her hand.
She stopped.
“I love you,” he said.
Wondering how she’d make it to the kitchen on water-filled knees, she gave him a nod and tried not to fall down on her way to put in his order.
Over in Henry Adams’s small subdivision, Gemma Dahl’s twelve-year-old grandson, Wyatt, was in bed still asleep when she settled into her car for the drive to Clark’s, the grocery store where she worked as a cashier. The sun was up and the day promised to be bright and beautiful after last night’s storms. Turning the key in the ignition made the need gas light flash on. Irritated and kicking herself for not dealing with this the day before, she considered walking. The store was close enough for her to get there on time, but she didn’t feel like it, so instead, she backed out of the garage to drive the short distance to the gas station.