He did. Brain had to speak with Mr. Clark before he and Leah could do stuff like sit together at the movies. Everybody liked Leah’s dad, but Mr. Jones was a thousand feet tall and looked like Megatron. “Oh god. Now I know I need to find a cure. Quick.”
Mr. James called the class back to order, and Amari settled in for the rest of the day’s work. He hazarded a look Kyra’s way and found her watching him. He quickly averted his eyes and returned to his assignment.
After school, he was up in his room when a text appeared on his phone. It was from Leah. FYI. She likes you too.
After reading it, twice, he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Trent was still on a high after his awesome connection with his mother as he sat in the kitchen, watching Lily get dinner ready. They traded off the cooking chores, and it was her turn this week.
“I’m so happy for you, baby, but I’m still trying to get over what her parents did.”
“I know, but I guess they thought they were doing the right thing.”
“But for whom?”
He couldn’t answer that. He kept seeing his mother in his mind’s eye and smiling.
“But at least the mystery’s finally solved. I know you were hurting, not knowing.”
“Yeah, I was. Not sure how Amari’s going to take the news, though. He’s working through his own abandonment issues, and we were sort of in it together.”
“I can’t see him not being happy for you.”
On the surface Trent didn’t either, but underneath, he wasn’t so sure. Sharing the issue seemed to have helped Amari manage his feelings. “Wish there was something we could do about his situation. I hate having him going through life like I have, wondering and not knowing, doubting his worth.”
“Me too, but we can’t unless she changes her mind, and there’s no indication that she will.”
“Do you think this will affect Devon in any way?”
She shrugged. “Hard to tell with him. He knows where his mom is. Now, whether he’s old enough to understand the circumstances surrounding his birth, I’ve no idea. But I’m sure he’ll be happy for you, too.”
Devon’s mom, Rosalie, was in a beautiful, well-run facility for the mentally impaired. His birth was the result of a sexual assault. They’d all met her for the first time during an emotion-packed trip to Mississippi a few summers ago.
Thoughts of Rosalie sent his mind back to his own mother, and he wondered what she might be doing. He wanted to call her and talk some more, but he and Lily made a point of spending the evenings with their sons, and for him that would always be a priority. He’d call her later.
“If your mom’s coming to dinner tomorrow, you might want to talk to Amari before she comes, but I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
He hoped so. “And I have a half sister now, too. I always wanted sibs.” Both he and Lily were only children.
“Me too—which is why I’m glad Amari and Devon have each other. If they can work out the kinks, I think they’ll be closer as they get older. Amari isn’t the problem. It’s Devon.”
“He’ll be okay. Just needs to grow up. Think I’ll take them camping in the spring. Devon mentioned going fishing with his grandmother. He might enjoy that.”
Lily looked so doubtful, he chuckled. “We’ll see.”
After dinner, the boys cleaned up the kitchen, then headed upstairs to tackle homework. Trent let them work for an hour, then went up to speak with Amari. He found him in his room, looking at artwork on his laptop. “How’s the homework going?”
“Good. We’re studying great American artists, and this week it’s Jacob Lawrence. I like this stuff.”
Trent glanced down at the paintings. “Do you have a favorite?”
“Yeah, this one. It’s called The March. It’s based on General Toussaint L’Ouverture and the people of Haiti fighting against France. When I get old enough to have my own place, I think I might buy some of his prints.”
Trent eyed the painting, with its vivid red and black brushstrokes, and thought about how far his son had come. The Amari who’d initially arrived in Henry Adams knew everything there was about stealing cars, but had no idea who Jacob Lawrence even was. The idea of that Amari buying prints one day would’ve been ludicrous. “It is nice.” Trent paused before saying, “Something I need to talk to you about.”
“What is it?”
“My mother came to town today.”
Amari’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. “Get out!”
“No. In fact, she’s over at Tamar’s right now.”
“Where’s she been?’ ”
He explained the story, and when he was done, Amari shook his head sadly. “Wow. She thought you were dead? That was some cold stuff her parents did. Man.”
“I know.”
“Are you happy?”
“Very.”
“Then I am, too. Do you think she’s going to mind that you have two adopted kids?”
“No. I already told her about you and Devon, and she can’t wait to meet you. She’ll be coming to dinner tomorrow.”
Amari searched his face. “I think this is awesome, Dad. Really, really awesome.”
“Do you?”
“I do. You came in here because you were worried about how I’d take it, right?”
Trent nodded at his remarkable oldest child.
“No worries, Dad. None. I’m getting another grandmother. What kid wouldn’t want that? As for my mom?” He shrugged. “It hurts, but not so much that I’d be mad at you or not want you to connect with your mom. You’re a great dad, and great dads deserve great things.”
“Had to come up and make sure you were okay. You mean a lot to me, son.”
Amari offered up that beaming smile of his. “Do you know where she lives?”
“California.”
“Sweet! You think she’ll let us come visit?” he asked excitedly.
“You can ask, and I’m sure she’ll say yes.” Love for his son filled him from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. “You rock, son.”
“Like no other, but that’s because my dad rocks.”
Trent offered him a hand, and they went through a slow ritual handshake. “Thanks, Amari.”
“Are you going to tell Devon?”
“I am, but I wanted to talk with you first.”
“I appreciate that,” Amari replied quietly.
“I’ll let you finish up your homework.”
Trent left the room, but before clearing the threshold he looked back and saw Amari staring off at something only he could see.
When Trent shared his news with Devon, the boy smiled. “I need a new grandma. Is she coming here?”
“Tomorrow for dinner.”
“Good. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why do people put those ugly tattoos on their arms and necks?”
For a minute, Trent was confused, and then it came to him. Devon must have seen Bobby’s tattoos at the meeting. “For a lot of reasons, I guess. Some people like to think of their bodies as a canvas and put artwork on it, like Crystal does with her paintings.”
“I think it’s stupid and nasty.”
“Why?”
“I just do. I’d never do something dumb like that.”
“Then don’t, but you don’t get to decide what other people do or want. I take it we’re talking about Crystal’s friend Bobby?”
“Yes.”
“Are you planning on telling him you think his art is stupid and nasty?”
Devon’s eyes went wide. “No. He’s really big. He might beat me up.”
“Bobby’s a nice guy. I don’t think he’d beat up a little kid.”
“He used to be in a gang.”
“But he’s not anymore.” Trent sighed. No
w Devon had a new target for his disdain. Great. “Regardless of how you feel about his having been in a gang or his tattoos, I want you to keep it to yourself. Tattoos don’t automatically make a person bad. Besides, you need to be more concerned about making Devon the best person he can be instead of judging others.”
Devon seemed to think that over.
“Also, Bobby’s a grown-up. I’m pretty sure the opinion of a little kid doesn’t matter to him one way or the other.”
“Oh.”
Sometimes he and Lily had to be blunt with Devon, and this was one of those times. “Luke, chapter six, verse thirty-seven, says what?”
Devon squirmed.
Trent waited.
“Judge not, and you shall not be judged,” came the small-voiced reply.
Trent nodded and gave Devon’s shoulder a fatherly squeeze. “Get your homework done.” And he left the room.
In the house next door, Bernadine sat with Mal in her kitchen. The two of them had just finished dinner, along with Crystal, who was now upstairs working on her homework. Mal had spent the past few minutes bringing Bernadine up to speed on Rita Lynn’s visit, and she was glad to finally have all the details. “Trent has to be ecstatic,” she said.
“He is. Rita Lynn’s pretty happy, too.”
“Having to spend most of his life not knowing if his mother is alive, dead, or just not interested has to have been hard for him.”
“Yes, but now they’ve finally connected. There were lots of tears.”
“I’m sure there were.”
They were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. Bernadine stood. “I wonder who that could be?”
She opened the door to find Franklin’s fire chief, Luis Acosta, illuminated under the porch light. “Chief Acosta?”
“Evening, Ms. Brown. Sorry to disturb you, but can I talk to you for a few minutes?”
“Sure. Come on in and have a seat. Can I get you something?”
“No, thanks.”
She ushered him into the living room, and they sat. She liked Luis Acosta, and not just because he was a tall, good-looking man of Mexican-American extraction. He’d initiated the aid compact after the Stillwell fire last spring, and she’d always be thankful for his big heart. “What brings you by?”
“Bottom line, my family and I need a place to stay. Astrid Wiggins has fired me because I disagreed with her about leaving you all high and dry, and we’ve been evicted. Effective tomorrow at noon. Is there anywhere in town here where my family and I might stay temporarily?”
Mal walked into the room.
“Hey, Mr. July.”
“Hey, Chief.”
Bernadine sighed. Astrid was tearing through people’s lives like a rogue elephant rampaging through the bush. “So sorry to hear that. Mal, can you give Tamar a quick call about that last vacant trailer?”
Mal took out his phone and walked back into the kitchen.
Bernadine realized she knew nothing about Luis’s family life. “The trailer has two bedrooms. Will that work?”
“Yes. There just me, my mother-in-law, and my two kids. My son can bunk with me, and my daughter can share the other room with her grandmother. Lost my wife a few years ago.”
“My condolences.”
“Thanks.”
“I wish we had a larger place for you.”
“It’s a place. More than we had an hour ago. The trailer will be fine until I can find a new department to work for.”
“So Astrid was your landlord?”
He nodded. “Her family owns probably ninety-five percent of the housing over there, so everybody rents. Step on her toes or look at her sideways and she evicts you.”
“Wow.”
“Since taking over as mayor, she’s been grabbing power like an Eastern European dictator, voiding contracts, firing teachers. Everybody in town is walking on eggshells. In a lot of ways I’m glad I’m out.”
Mal came back. “She’s says she’ll get it ready.”
“Thanks, Mal.” Something else occurred to Bernadine. “Henry Adams could use an experienced fire chief. How about a job once you get settled in?”
Luis went still. “Really?”
“That’s a damn good idea,” said Mal.
Luis looked from one to the other.
“Well?” Bernadine prodded gently.
“Are you serious?” he asked.
“Very. We’ll be starting the department from scratch, so you’ll get to put your own stamp on things. Job’s yours if you want it.”
“I do,” he said enthusiastically. “Thank you!”
Mal asked, “Do you need help moving tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“We can help out with that, too. Give me your number and send me a text in the morning.”
Luis looked floored. “This is so not what I expected. My mother-in-law is going to be thrilled.”
“Can’t wait to meet her,” Bernadine said.
He stood. “I need to get back and help her and the kids finish packing up. You’re a godsend, Ms. Brown.”
“Feeling the same way about you, Chief.”
He and Mal exchanged phone numbers, and with one last thank-you to them both, Luis Acosta went back out into the December night.
Bernadine looked at Mal. “I love it when a plan comes together,” she said, quoting Hannibal Smith of The A-Team.
He laughed. “Let the church say amen!”
Mal left for home a short while later. Bernadine turned out the lights and went up to check on Crystal. Upon finding her asleep, a fond smile curved her lips. She remembered when Crystal first designed the bright orange room, but wouldn’t sleep in the bed because she didn’t want to mess it up. Henry Adams’s reigning teen queen had come so far, and God willing, she would go even farther. Bernadine moved on down the hall to her own room.
She was in her pajamas, just about to turn off her laptop and climb into bed with a book, when her Skype app activated. She opened it and, upon seeing her sister Diane’s face on the screen, sighed.
“Hey, Bernie!”
Bernadine hated being called Bernie. Her sister knew it but didn’t seem to care. “Hey there, Di. How are you?”
“Loving Maui and this warm weather.”
Diane was outdoors, and the backdrop of the mountains and beautiful blue sky made Bernadine, dealing with yet another winter on the plains of Kansas, quite envious. “Good seeing you. I was starting to worry.”
“Sorry. I’m having so much fun, I forgot to check in.”
“Gary wants you to call him.”
“Why?”
Bernadine did her best to keep the frustration out of her voice. “He wants to know when you’re coming back to work. You were only supposed to be gone a week.”
“I’ve changed my mind—I’m going to stay for Christmas. Be back after New Year’s Day.”
“Then you have another job lined up?”
“No.”
As she’d noted earlier, Diane still had a ways to go on a lot of levels. The earlier version of herself had been estranged from all three of her grown children for being intolerant of who they’d chosen to love, and from Bernadine for refusing to assist with caring for their dying mother. “He can’t just hold your job forever. The man’s running a business.”
“You own the town, Bernie. Just tell him I’ll see him in January.”
“No. You call Gary, and make arrangements. By tomorrow.”
Diane made a face. “Okay. Gotta go. Anthony’s teaching me to surf. Talk to you later. Bye!”
And she was gone.
Bernadine blew out a breath and sent an e-mail to Gary. He was still awake, and sent back that if Diane didn’t call him by the end of business tomorrow, he’d be posting her job. Bernadine didn’t argue. Either Dian
e was going to act like a responsible adult and handle her business, or she wasn’t. Bernadine’s job as sister didn’t include saving Diane’s bacon. She powered off the laptop and crawled into bed.
CHAPTER
8
Bobby entered the mayor’s office for his second day of work and found Trent having coffee with two men he’d not met before—one Black, the other White. The Black guy had a no-nonsense bearing that was either military or law enforcement. He gave the tats peeking above Bobby’s collar a silent once-over before sticking out his hand. “Barrett Payne.”
Bobby didn’t react to the extra-firm handshake. When you grow up on the streets, you don’t broadcast weakness. “Military or law enforcement?”
Payne gave him a ghost of a smile. “Military. Marine colonel. Retired.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
“Same here.”
The two took each other’s measure.
Payne said, “Welcome to Henry Adams. Trent speaks very highly of you. When you moved in on Monday, I was in DC at the celebration honoring the Montford Point Marines. First Marines to break the color line in WW2. Do you know about them?”
“No.”
“Look them up when you can.”
“I will,” Bobby lied.
“Barrett is the town’s equivalent of Homeland Security,” Trent put in.
Uncertain how to reply to that, Bobby simply said, “Ah.”
The White guy introduced himself as the town’s lead contractor. “Warren Kelly. Nice to meet you, Bobby.”
“Thanks. Nice to meet you, too.”
There was a large map of Henry Adams rolled open on a table. Bobby asked, “What’re you doing?”
“Trying to figure out where to put the new library and firehouse that’ll be built in the spring,” Trent explained.
For the next hour, the three men went back and forth over the best place to build, how much it might cost, and how long it might take. He’d never been party to such a discussion before and was therefore surprised to learn how many things had to be considered and decided upon during a construction project, like the proper size and gauge of sewage pipes and drains, the slope a building needed for the ice-and-thaw cycle in winter, and, because they were in Kansas, the best design for an area prone to tornadoes. Bobby began the discussion feigning interest but halfway into it, his interest became genuine. There were things he wanted to ask about, but kept quiet for fear of being thought dumb.