Bernadine agreed.
“So, do you think her mother taught her to play?”
“Who knows. Truthfully we don’t know a whole lot more than we did before, except that the mother was a pianist.”
“And Zoey has a picture of her.”
“Yes. That made the trip worth it.”
They talked a bit longer, then she left to go home and rest.
Crystal met her at the door. “Did you find out anything?”
“Not much. How are you?”
“Doing good.”
Bernadine was dead on her feet. The only thing she wanted to do was hit the shower, the kitchen, and the bed, but she knew it was her duty to spend some time with the teen, so she kicked off her heels and took a seat on the couch.
“Now, tell me about Zoey.”
So, she did.
“Her auntie sounds rude.”
“Yeah. Good word.”
“Glad you got Zoey the picture, though. You hear anything on my mom, yet?”
Bernadine shook her head. “Nothing so far.”
“Wish they’d hurry up.”
“We’ll find her. Don’t worry. Now, I’m going to take a shower, then I’ll be in my room chilling.”
“Okay.”
Bernadine headed for her bedroom. She was glad to be home.
Early that next morning, she knocked on Crystal’s bedroom door. Breakfast was ready, but it wasn’t like Crystal not to come downstairs on time.
When the second knock went unanswered, Bernadine quietly turned the knob and peeked in. Shock filled her eyes as she saw the girl lying in the middle of the floor snoring softly. Confused, she walked over only to see something equally as surprising. Lying on the floor beside her slumbering foster child were sheets of white paper covered with drawings. Bernadine knelt, and careful not to awaken her hip-hop Sleeping Beauty, she scanned the artwork. The girl had a talent. There was a drawing of Zoey sitting in a huge chair and surrounded by demonic-looking beings. Another one that could only be Amari and Preston lay next to it. She’d drawn Amari driving a cool-looking car and leaning out of the window grinning. Horns had been added to his head, which made Bernadine smile. Preston was in the backseat leaning out of his window and holding a fat hamburger complete with bun, lettuce, and drips on his hand. Bernadine was amazed.
Picking up the rest, she walked over to one of the chairs in the room and scanned through them. There were ten in all, and all were outstanding. “Crystal. Wake up,” she called looking at a drawing of Devon in a choir robe surrounded by a bunch of ornate crosses. “Time to get up.”
The teen finally opened her eyes, gave a sleepy groan, and was about to turn over when she saw Bernadine sitting in the chair. “Hey,” she said with a crooked smile.
“Why are you sleeping on the floor, honey?”
Crystal sat up and rubbed at her eyes. “Never had a room this nice. Don’t want to mess it up.”
Bernadine wished this fostering business had come with an instruction manual. She had no idea what to say to that, so she hoped the right words would come out. “You’ve been sleeping on the floor all this time?”
Crystal was fully awake by then. In reply she shrugged her thin shoulders. “Yeah. It’s so beautiful. It’s like something out of a magazine or that show Cribs. I don’t want to mess it up.”
“But it’s your room, baby.”
“I know but—”
“Crystal, I’m going to need you to not sleep on the floor.”
“But, Ms. Bernadine—”
“No, baby. I know all this high-class stuff is new. It was new for me once upon a time too. I grew up on the east side of Detroit sharing a little room with my two sisters.”
“You did?”
Bernadine nodded, “Yep, and my parents didn’t have the money to buy fancy stuff like this, but I learned over the years that it’s okay to like nice things. I’ve been poor and I’ve been rich, and this is way better.”
Crystal smiled.
“This is our world, Crystal. Yours and mine, and this is how we’re going to be rolling. With nice stuff, beautiful rooms. When I take you to Milan next year for Fashion Week, are you planning on sleeping on the floor of the five-star hotel we’re going to be staying in?”
Crystal was staring as if Bernadine had just grown another head or two. “Milan,” she croaked. “Milan? Italy?”
Bernadine was impressed that she knew Milan was in Italy. “Yes, and Paris and Cairo and Senegal. I love to travel, and I’m planning on taking you with me when you’re not in school and,” she held up the drawings, “these are very good.”
“I’ve been drawing since I was little. I don’t usually let people see them.”
“When we go to Hays today, we’ll get art supplies. Brushes, paints, easels. Whatever you need or think you need, we’re getting. You have a gift, Crys, and I want you to start nurturing it. Who knows, you may wind up going to art school in New York or Madrid or some other cool place.”
Crystal dropped her head, and when she lifted it again there were tears standing in her eyes. “God.”
Bernadine smiled. “And you said God hasn’t been hearing you. Wrong!”
Crystal smiled.
Bernadine got to her feet. “So get up and get dressed. We have some shopping to do.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
After Bernadine left, Crystal shook her head in absolute amazement, then got up to get ready.
By the end of the day, Crystal had a bedroom filled with art supplies, and they were as precious and as wonderful to her as the little diamond sparklers in her ears. Until Ms. Bernadine came into her life no one had ever encouraged her in anything before, let alone tell her she was gifted. When Crystal finally decided to go to sleep that night, she crawled into her beautiful bed, content.
The female clerk at the County Agriculture Office sighed when Riley Curry came through the door. Every day for the past ten days he’d come in to ask the same question.
“’Morning, Ms. Clark.”
“’Morning, Mr. Curry. How are you, today?”
“Be better if I could see Cletus.”
“I’m sorry, but there’s been no word on the paperwork.”
“When do you think it’ll get here?”
She shook her head as she did every morning. “I don’t know. The hearing officers are pretty busy. They’ll get it to us as soon as they can.”
“Are they taking good care of him?”
“I’m sure they are. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”
“No, ma’am. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“I’ll be here.”
When he left, she sighed.
Driving back, Riley was sad. He couldn’t imagine what Cletus might be going through. He’d never been away from home this long before and probably thought Riley had abandoned him. Riley understood why they had to hold the hearing. Cletus had killed Prell, but he’d been protecting Riley, so he saw it as self-defense. He told the police about Prell hitting Cletus with the club, and they’d written down his version of the incident. If they put him to sleep, Riley didn’t know what he’d do.
Then there was the matter of Genevieve. He had no more idea what to do about her than he did Cletus. They no longer had a home. She was staying with Marie and didn’t seem to be of a mind to change that anytime soon. Seeing her at the recreation center, he’d expected her to have more to say, but the hurt in her eyes had spoken volumes. The life of Riley Curry, former mayor of Henry Adams, was officially in the toilet, and he had no idea how to fix that either.
CHAPTER
25
As summer began to wane, Henry Adams’s new residents were all settled in. The unpacking had been finished, items that had been shipped, like all the colonel’s books, finally arrived, and all the boxes stored.
During the last week of August, the children began school with Marie Jefferson in charge, and Trent was thankful that the 9:00 to 3:00 classroom gave him a break from the ten thousand question
s Amari seemed to wake up with daily. He and Preston finally finished painting the Jefferson fence, and since then there’d been no more Stupid Boy Tricks. Trent was encouraged by that. So far, no cars, trucks, or tractors had come up missing, and he was encouraged by that as well.
He’d mentioned to Marie that Amari was behind in his reading, and she promised to handle it as tactfully as she could. Education was paramount, especially for a child with his background, and Trent volunteered to help in any way he could to get the boy up to speed.
Trent’s other dilemma was Lily Fontaine. He had fallen for her again, hook, line, and sinker. They’d not gone on a second date because now that the town Web site was up, she was spending her time fielding all the requests for info on Henry Adams coming in from all over the world, or so it seemed. Although he was in love with her, he had enough sense not to let her know, but in truth, he’d begun falling for her again the day she drove into the garage with that smoke-belching rental car.
It was surprising mainly because it wasn’t anything he’d planned or that she’d encouraged; his attraction to her was just there, and every day, every time he saw her he slid farther down the slope.
“So when did you resurrect this old dinosaur?” Malachi asked.
The two of them were in the garage looking at an old banged-up and busted-up Chrysler New Yorker. It used to be Trent’s high school car. “Been trying to get to it for a few years now.”
“Liar,” Malachi said with a grin and took a swig of his cola. “I was drinking back then, but even I remember this car. Used to be mine before I gave it to you when you were sixteen.”
Trent pretended not to hear and concentrated on removing the passenger-side door. He’d totaled it in a spring ice storm right after graduation. Since then it had been sitting under sheets of plastic and tarps to keep the weather out. Old man Dancer, Rocky’s father and the previous owner of the garage, had promised to help Trent restore it when the time came, but he died six years ago. “I may have a buyer for it when I’m done.”
“You are no more going to sell it than I’m going to marry Tyra.”
Trent finally got the rusted door off and eased it to the floor.
“Does Lily know you’re working on it?”
“Don’t see why she should.”
Malachi shook his head. “Denial is not a river in Africa, boy.”
Trent chuckled. “I know, Dad.”
“Doesn’t sound like it to me. When are you going to tell her how you feel?”
“When are you going to tell Bernadine how you feel?”
“Already have, but she’s in denial too.”
“Not like you to go after a woman over forty, or even fifty for that matter.”
“Things change, but in your case, sometimes they don’t.”
Trent knew he shouldn’t ask, but he did, “What do you mean?”
“Means you’re still in love with Lily Fontaine.”
“Not necessarily,” Trent lied.
“Pitiful. You’re working on the car you took her to the prom in, and both of your ex-wives looked just like her.”
“No they didn’t.”
“Yeah, they did. Maybe not exactly, but overall they resembled her a lot.”
Trent wanted to remind Malachi that he’d been drinking back then too, but he kept that to himself. “Like I said, I think I may have a buyer for this when I’m done.”
Malachi shook his head. “Whatever you say.”
A moment later, Amari came strolling in. With his backpack on and his jeans and blue polo he looked like the normal everyday eleven-year-old coming home from school.
“Hey, Trent. Hey OG.”
Malachi grinned. “Hey, kid.”
Trent asked, “How was school?”
“Ms. Marie is trippin’, but it was all right. Gave me a bunch of homework that I can’t read, so I’ll need your help. I can do the math, though.”
“Got your back. If it’s any consolation, she used to wear me out too.”
“It’s not,” he cracked. Amari looked over the car as Trent started in on removing the other door. “You taking this to the dump?”
“Nope. Going to restore it. Maybe sell it.” He waited for Malachi to throw in his two cents but thankfully he didn’t.
“Can I help?”
“Sure. After the math homework.”
“Why does there always have to be a catch?”
“It’s the way life works.”
Amari walked around the old black car. “You sure you don’t want to take this to the dump? Looks dead.” He stuck his head inside and checked out the panel. “No computer?”
“Nope. No computers back then. At least not the high-tech ones on cars today.”
“Zoey could steal this.”
Malachi and Trent shared a look. Trent said, “You steal this after I fix it, and I feed you to a combine.”
“Can you hot-wire a combine?”
“Go in the office and get your homework started.”
“I was just asking.”
“Homework.”
Malachi stood up. “Come on, boy. I’ll buy you a soda and you can get on your job.”
Amari shot Trent a grin and followed Malachi inside.
“Mrs. Curry was my reading tutor today.”
“Really?” Malachi said, coming in with another Pepsi for him and a can of Dr Pepper for Amari. “How’d it go?”
“Fine, but she seemed real sad. Did you know her husband’s big fat pig killed somebody?”
Malachi took a sip. “Yep. Officially, it was pretty tragic.”
“How come none of us kids knew about it?”
“Grown folks’ business, but it was on the news too.”
“I don’t watch the news.”
“Noticed that.”
“Well, I think we should have been told. I can take it. I grew up in the murder capital of the world, but murder by hog? That’s wack.”
“Is that all you learned from Genevieve today?” The seniors were taking turns tutoring Amari in reading.
“No, she just seemed so sad. Did they really tear down her house?”
“Yeah. She was supposed to be tutoring you, not using you as Dear Abby.”
“Who’s that?”
Malachi waved him off. “Never mind.”
Amari kept talking as if Mal hadn’t said a word. “I think she just needed somebody to talk to. Been trying to think of something nice I can do for her. Make her feel better, you know?”
He did and it made him feel good. Beneath all that rock-hard city swagger was a kid with a heart. “Sounds like a good idea, but right now, math. And get started before Trent comes in and starts fussing at us both.”
Crystal dumped her backpack on the chair in her room. She was not a big fan of school. She was also getting tired of not hearing anything back about her mom. It had been weeks now since the search began. She was sure Ms. Bernadine was getting tired of her asking about it all day every day, but what else was she supposed to do? It hadn’t taken real long to find Zoey’s aunt.
She sighed with frustration and made up her mind that if she didn’t hear something back by next week, she’d go back to searching herself.
At school the next day, she went over and sat with Amari and Preston outside at lunch.
Amari looked suspicious. “What do you want?”
“Need to talk to you. I’m thinking about taking off.”
“And go where?” Preston asked, concerned.
“New Orleans, to find my mom.”
“Isn’t Ms. Bernadine paying somebody to look for her?”
“Yeah, but they’re taking too long.”
Preston said, “You should just wait.”
“I’m tired of waiting.”
“Okay,” Amari said, “but why are you telling us?”
“Might need your help.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll have to get to the highway and I can’t drive.”
“Call a cab,” Preston said.
“Don’t be stupid. What am I going to look like calling a cab so I can run away?”
“If you’re running away, you’re going to look stupid either way.”
“Shut up!” she snapped.
Amari took a bite of the big fat burger the senior ladies had made them for lunch. “Preston does have a point. Why not stay? Ms. Bernadine’s got to be the best foster mother you ever had.”
“I know that, but this is my real mother I’m talking about. My flesh and blood.”
Preston wanted to remind her that they were talking about a flesh-and-blood crackhead, but he decided to keep that to himself.
Amari asked, “So when do you want to do this?”
“Next week some time.”
“You’ll have to get somebody else. I promised myself I wouldn’t steal anymore cars. I don’t want to mess this up and get sent back. I kind of like it here.”
“Are you crazy? We’re in Green Acres, there’s nothing to do, no place to go. They don’t even have a damn Mickey D’s.”
Amari looked at her. “No, they don’t, but the people here are the closest I’m ever going to get to being in a real family. Shit, I may even learn to read. I’m not messing this up.”
She huffed out a breath and leaned back against the table. “You’re just scared.”
“Right.”
“You are. You’re just scared of getting caught.”
“Yep. So you and your bad weave have a good time walking to 183.”
“Kiss my ass, Amari,” she said, and stalked off.
As she disappeared back inside the rec center, Preston asked, “You think she’s really going to take off?”
“Probably.”
“You’re not going to help her, are you?”
He shrugged and drained the last of his drink. “Don’t know.”
“Amari?”
“It’s her family, man. You and me, we don’t remember our mamas. She does. Makes a difference.”
“You’re going to get caught.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Way I figure it, I can probably get her to the highway and get myself back without anybody knowing I was gone if the planning’s right.”