“And did you know that they not only allow women in the pulpit, they just consecrated an openly gay woman as a bishop in California? If that isn’t blasphemy, I don’t know what is,” he added, and pointed a shrimp at Trent for emphasis.
Trent glanced around and spotted Lily and the boys in the reception line, speaking with the subject of Donovan’s disdain. He’d planned on them all meeting the new reverend as a family, but before he could get with them, he’d been waylaid by Donovan.
Donovan went on speaking as if he were passing along secrets from Russia. “The Bible clearly specifies a woman’s place in society. The men run things, and women serve. In the book of—”
Tired of this, Trent interrupted him. “Excuse me, Pastor Donovan. I’m not sure how long you’ve been in Franklin?”
“About six weeks.”
“Then you may not know that Henry Adams is owned by that lady over there.” He pointed out Bernadine. “Her name’s Bernadine Brown. Any problems you have with the hiring of Reverend Grant should be taken up with her. I’m sure she’d be real interested in hearing your theories on why women shouldn’t be running things.”
Donovan choked on his shrimp.
Trent gave him a few hard whacks across the back that were definitely more forceful than necessary, but he was trying to help him out in his distress.
Once the man recovered, Trent said, “You make sure you speak with Ms. Brown, okay?” Offering the pastor a terse nod of farewell, Trent went in search of his family.
Because it was Friday evening, the celebration was topped off with a showing of Night at the Museum for the kids, and for the adults, The Preacher’s Wife, the Whitney and Denzel version, because of its religious overtones.
When the movies were over, Trent drove them home. Lily and the boys got out of the car, but Trent had one more thing to do. He hadn’t seen Tamar since Agnes’s funeral.
“Tell her I send my love,” Lily said to him.
“Will do. Be back later.”
Once there, he parked and headed up the walk. Tamar was seated on the porch in the dark, just as he’d expected. They both loved the night.
“What brings you out here so late?” she asked.
He sat down on the top step just like he used to when he was young. “Came to check on my favorite old lady. So how are you?”
“Grieving.”
The one word told him much. He’d been worried about her since Agnes’s death, but hadn’t visited because he wanted to give her her space.
Tamar said quietly, “I’m the last of my kind. The last living resident of Henry Adams who actually knew Aunt Teresa and her brothers, and I’m not sure I’m liking it.”
He turned toward her in an effort to try and make out her facial expression in the darkness. “Why?”
“Thinking about my own mortality, I guess.”
“The death of a friend will do that sometimes.”
For a while they just sat and listened to the wind in the grass and watched the moon overhead go in and out of the clouds.
Tamar finally said, “I miss Agnes. I spent so many years wanting to strangle her for one thing or another, I never thought I’d feel such loss when she was gone, but I do.”
Trent smiled softly. “She could get you going.”
“And then some. I’m going to be joining her and the rest of them eventually. You prepared for that?”
She always did ask hard questions. “No.”
“You have your family now. You’ll be okay.”
“No, I won’t be. Not without you.”
“Yeah, you will.”
Her words made him worry. “Have the doctors told you something Dad and I should know?”
“No.”
“Would you tell me if they had?”
“No.”
He shook his head. Twenty years ago, she’d been diagnosed with stage-three ovarian cancer. They’d almost lost her. He prayed she wasn’t girding herself to take up the battle again.
“And when my time comes, no heroics. Just let me slip away.”
To him she’d been mother, grandmother, and friend. Hearing this was hard, but he forced himself to respond. “Okay.”
There was another long moment of silence before she said wistfully, “You and I spent a lot of nights out here on this porch.”
“Something about the night always spoke to me. Still does.”
“Me, too. Not Mal, though. He doesn’t like the darkness; too many demons in it for him.” She went quiet again for a few moments, and he wondered if she was thinking about the past or the future. “You make sure you and Amari take care of Malachi after I’m gone.”
“We will.”
“Good,” she whispered. “I’ve had a good long life. If the spirit took me with the morning’s sunrise, I’d have no regrets. You’ve filled my heart, Trent. Thank you.”
Fighting to keep a tight rein on his emotions, he turned again to where she sat shrouded by the shadows. “You’re welcome.”
“Amari has been a blessing, too. Never met a child so grateful for family.”
“He is special.”
“That he is. Hungry for the old stories, like you were. Comes out to see me almost every day and just sits and listens. Asks a million and a half questions, though.”
Trent smiled. Amari was a question machine. “He loves you a lot.”
“And I love him back. Convinced he’s a July.”
“Be nice if we could prove it, but either way, Wednesday I want you to come with me to the courthouse so we can make his adoption official.”
“I’ll be there.”
When Trent was young, the night wind moving through the grass and trees always sounded like people whispering. Tamar explained it as being the nocturnal gathering of the July ancestors talking to each other and walking the land to make sure their living descendants were well. It was an image he still clung to decades later, and in silence he could hear them now. Off in the distance an owl hooted from somewhere down near the small stream that ran behind Tamar’s land. The memories of growing up here were ones he’d cherish until he joined the nightly gatherings of his clan. “You know, you’re not the last link. Whether you want to acknowledge him or not, your brother Thad is still alive and living in Oklahoma.”
She snorted. “Don’t remind me.”
“When are you two going to declare a truce?”
“On the day I sprout wings. That coyote stole Olivia, took her tires, and left her sitting on the side of the road twenty miles away!”
“I know, but that was years ago, Tamar, and it only took us a few hours to find her.”
“Doesn’t change things.”
Trent always got the impression that the feud between them went back farther than the Olivia prank, but he’d no clue what might have started it. “I’m going to invite him and his side to the wedding.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yeah, I am. They’re family. Already had Mal call Thad.”
“You’re really ruining my evening.”
“Sorry.”
“They’re just going to steal our cars again, you know that, right?”
“We’ll see if we can’t work something out with them before they arrive.”
“Good luck.”
He was certain he’d need it, but he set aside the potential antics of the Oklahoma branch of the family for now. She was his main concern.
But apparently she was done visiting for the night. “Trent, it’s late. You go on home now and let this old lady continue her pity party and try not to think about her brother coming to town. I’ll be back raising hell in a day or so.”
“You sure?”
“Who else is going to whip Miss Tiffany Adele into shape?”
Trent laughed. Getting to his feet, he walked over to her and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
“Love you, Tamar,” he whispered.
“Love you more, baby boy.”
>
Trent got back in his truck and drove away. He knew death would take her eventually, but he wasn’t ready, and doubted he’d ever be. His world had always included Tamar, and he couldn’t imagine it without her.
Saturday morning, Paula was having coffee at the small table in her new kitchen when the melodic notes of a flute drifted like a breeze through her open screen door. With every rise and fall of the intricately fingered music the talent of the flutist was apparent. At first the measures were slow and filled with such mournful tones, the instrument seemed to weep. Paula heard pain, grief, longing. The emotion made her want to hold the flutist close to her heart and help bear the burden of such deep sadness. But even in pain there is sometimes beauty, and in this case that beauty was the musician’s pure skill. Each note was distinctive and filled with both vibrancy and life. Whoever was playing had the technique of a virtuoso.
As the music continued, Paula’s curiosity got the better of her, so she got to her feet. She’d met her nearest neighbors, the Clarks, Jack and Eli, and the Pam Grier clone, Ms. Rocky Dancer, but had yet to meet the mayor’s grandmother. She wondered if the music was coming from her house.
Outside, the music was now rising as sweet and as bright as the morning’s sunlight. Paula gauged the direction from where it was flowing and set out.
It was Rocky. She was seated on the metal steps of her trailer. Upon noticing Paula, she slowly removed the silver flute from her lips. “Morning, Reverend.”
“Good morning. You play beautifully.”
“Thanks. Do you need something?”
Paula shook her head. “Just wanted to see where the music was coming from.”
Rocky looked slightly embarrassed. “I don’t play much anymore, but woke up this morning with the urge inside. Trent used to play once upon a time, too, but I’ll bet he doesn’t even know where his flute is.”
“Feel free to start my morning with your playing whenever you like. I felt like I was at a concert.” She wanted to ask about the pain she’d heard threaded into the music but didn’t know Rocky well enough to inquire without coming off as nosy or rude, or both.
“How long have you been a reverend?”
“Going on fifteen years.”
“And before that?”
“I had a child psychology practice in Atlanta.”
“Ah,” she voiced quietly. “Are you going to help out our kids?”
“If they need it, and will let me.”
“Oh, they need it, believe me, and so do many of the adults.”
A few yards away, Jack and Eli James exited their trailer. Eli waved, and Jack called out, “Morning, Reverend. Hey, Rock.”
Rocky waved. Paula did, too, but she noticed the way Rocky’s eyes followed them as they walked to their car and drove away. “Are they good neighbors?”
The question seemed to drag Rocky’s attention back to the present. “Yeah, they are. Have you ever been married?”
Paula was caught off guard by the abrupt off-topic question. “No. You?”
“Once for a hot minute, and I swore off men big-time after the divorce.”
“But now?”
Rocky smiled. “How do you know there is a but now?”
“I’ve been in the psychology business and the God business long enough to know that there’s always a but now. So?”
For a moment Rocky appeared to be gathering what she wanted to say. “There’s a guy, and he’s a really nice guy, and I could probably fall for him forever and forever, amen.”
“Then what’s the problem? He isn’t married, is he?”
“No. The problem is me. Scared of getting my heart broken again.”
“Does he impress you as being a heartbreaker?”
“Not at all.”
“Do you think he could make you happy?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s a widower, and I don’t want to be the woman he’s picking up on the rebound.”
“Ah, I see.”
“Not sure if he’s really serious about me, or just looking for somebody to replace his wife.”
“Have you talked with him about this?”
“No. I’m trying not to talk to him at all.”
The amusement in her eyes made Paula laugh. “Don’t block your blessings, girl.”
“I know, but easier said than done.”
“Has he asked you out?”
“All day, every day.”
“If you keep hiding, how will you ever learn the truth? Life’s too short not to embrace the things that could bring us joy.”
“I know that, too, but it’s easier to keep saying no. That way I don’t get hurt.”
“No pain, no gain, though, right?”
Rocky cocked her head. “Since when do reverends say ‘No pain, no gain’?”
Paula chuckled. “Would you prefer ‘No guts, no glory’?”
“I think you’re going to fit in well here.”
“I’m hoping to. And I think you should go out with this mystery man of yours and see where it leads. Nothing worse than being old and gray and filled with what-ifs. Life has sorrow, but it can potentially hold solace and love as well, and if this man can bring you those things . . . ?” She left the question open-ended. She’d heard the longing in Rocky’s music. Solace and love were needed. “Just something to consider.”
“Okay.”
They were interrupted by the sound of a car’s horn. They turned and saw an old but shiny green pickup truck bumping across the grass in their direction. Rocky asked, “Have you met Tamar?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Then today’s your lucky day.”
The woman who exited the truck was tall, dark-skinned, and bore an amazing resemblance to the July men Paula had already met. The black-and-red caftan flowing around her like an African robe was shot through with silver swirls that matched the color of her flowing hair. In her ears were large silver hoops, and a multitude of bracelets graced her wrists. She was a beautiful woman. She was also wearing combat boots that hadn’t been new in probably decades.
Rocky made the introductions.
“Pleased to meet you,” Tamar said. “I came to see if you’d like to do a little bit of running with me today. There’s also some people I want you to meet and a few places you need to see if you’re going to be living here.”
Paula had no plans for the day. “I’d like that.”
Rocky said to Tamar, “You’ve been scarce since the funeral. We’ve been worried about you. You okay?”
Tamar nodded. “I’m getting there. I heard you playing a little while ago, so I came to make sure you were okay. I know today’s Deborah’s birthday.”
Apparently Tamar had heard the pain, too, Paula mused, and she wondered who Deborah might be.
In response to Tamar’s words, a mask slid down over Rocky’s features. “I’m okay” was all she would say.
Tamar didn’t press for more, but said gently, “Just checking.” She then turned to Paula. “Reverend, you ready to roll?”
“Let me grab my purse. Be right back.”
A few minutes later Paula was in the passenger seat. As Tamar turned the key in the ignition and the truck rumbled to life, Rocky grinned and called, “Reverend, make sure you got on your seat belt.”
Tamar leaned her head out her window and called back with a laugh, “Hater!”
A confused Paula had no idea what Rocky meant, but when Tamar drove out to the dirt road and the truck began traveling at a speed faster than light, Paula understood, held on for dear life, and prayed.
Chapter 13
Lily had a decision to make. Devon was supposed to be spending the afternoon and some of the evening watching the baseball playoffs with Mal, but Devon was still on punishment and technically couldn’t watch TV. He also hadn’t as of yet produced the three-page letter of apology he was supposed to write to Zoey, and Lily knew she’d erred in not setting a deadline for it to be done. She wanted to encourage the bonding Mal was trying to forge wi
th his soon-to-be grandson, but on the other hand, she didn’t want to say yes, Devon could go, and have him think he’d gotten around her edict. She’d talked to Trent about her dilemma last night when he returned from checking on Tamar, and he’d agreed with her on both sides of the issue. In the end, though, he left the final decision up to her, saying he’d support her either way.
Devon came down to breakfast a short while later, and to her surprise handed her three sheets of lined paper. “It’s my apology to Zoey.”
She read what he’d written. On all three pages, front and back, he’d written, I’m sorry Zoey. And that was it. He’d written the words in cursive, and his small handwriting filled the pages. When she met his eyes, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. In the past few weeks he’d learned to mask himself pretty well. However, this was not what she’d asked him to do, and they both knew it.
“So can I go watch baseball with Mr. Mal now?” he asked.
Lily was admittedly tired of being a hard-ass. She decided to relent, but only up to a point. “Yes, but once you come home, you’re back on lockdown until Zoey gets back from New York and you can give this to her.”
That drew a pout that he quickly covered up.
“And I expect you to be more charitable to her and everyone else in the future. You weren’t very nice to the reverend yesterday.”
He didn’t respond to that but did say, “Thank you for letting me watch baseball, Ms. Lily.”
The tone lacked the sincerity she was accustomed to hearing from him. As his foster mom, that saddened her. She wanted her baby boy back, but it appeared as if that child and those days were gone, so she had to go with what she had. She picked up her phone and punched up Mal’s number before handing the phone to Devon. “When Mr. Mal answers, ask him what time he’ll be by to pick you up.”
She took a moment to unload the dishwasher while the two made their arrangements and heard Devon say, “Okay. Thank you, Mr. Mal.”
Devon handed the phone back to Lily. “He said noon.”
“Then we’ll have you ready.”