Bring on the Blessings

  Before she could get a response, Parker yelled with surprise, “What the heck is that?”

  Bernadine turned and stared with wide eyes. Riley was walking toward the porch holding a leash on—a hog?

  Tamar stepped out on the porch and answered drolly, “That, ladies and gentlemen is Cletus.”

  The cameraman turned, focused, and jumped in reaction.

  Lily looked equally floored.

  The animal was as big as a VW and it was wearing clothes. A blue and white sailor suit to be exact, complete with tie and a little tiny hat perched between his pale gray ears. His coloring made him resemble a gigantic rat.

  As Riley got within hailing distance he called out, “Hello, Mr. Parker. I heard you were doing a story. My name is Riley Curry, former mayor of Henry Adams. That’s my beautiful wife Genevieve sitting in the truck, and this,” he gestured proudly, “is Cletus Curry.”

  “It has a last name?” Bernadine whispered amazed.

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  Bernadine didn’t know whether to laugh or be appalled. She had never seen anything so bizarre before in her life.

  Lily cracked, “I’m scared that somebody made it clothes to wear.”

  Tamar groused, “Parker’s going to think we’re a bunch of country lunatics.”

  “Well, yeah.” Bernadine replied in agreement.

  Riley continued by declaring, “Cletus is the most intelligent hog in Kansas. As his agent I have an idea for a reality show that I know the networks will all be wanting.”

  Stunned, Bernadine looked at Tamar who replied, “I warned you.” And added, “He’s been trying to get that hog on TV for years.”

  Only then did Bernadine notice Trent’s granite set face. She hoped Parker wasn’t about to film a murder.

  Apparently, Parker knew crazy when he saw it. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Curry.” He turned to Trent. “I’ll be in touch.”

  And before anyone could say another word, he and his cameraman were hurrying to their SUV. Seconds later they drove out to the road and disappeared in a cloud of dust.

  If Riley was disappointed he didn’t show it. Instead he shot everyone a snarling look before escorting Cletus back to the truck. Once the smartest hog in Kansas was secured in the bed, Riley and Genevieve drove away.

  “Good lord,” Bernadine whispered.

  “You got that right,” Tamar replied.

  That night as Bernadine sat on the porch watching the moon rise and the stars come out, she finally relaxed from what had been a whirlwind day. She could still see that hog and wondered wildly, Who puts clothes on a hog? Apparently, the Currys. Too bizarre.

  She turned her mind from that craziness to the ongoing construction. Everything was proceeding well. According to Tamar, Trent was more than qualified to handle the job of foreman. With his schooling and hands-on experience she felt he was wasting his talents in Henry Adams and was glad Bernadine had put him in charge, if only temporarily.

  But Bernadine planned on appointing him permanently, whether he wanted the job or not. One, because she trusted him to do the right thing and two, she didn’t know the first thing about hiring someone to replace him or what qualifications the person needed to have. She didn’t know certifications, housing codes, or anything even remotely related, but with Trent driving, she could sit back and stay out of the way.

  Hiring Lily would also lighten the load. Bernadine didn’t know a thing about her either, but she had decided to just trust. If it didn’t work out, she’d know soon enough.

  The breeze picked up, temporarily blowing away the heat. Tamar’s nineteenth-century home had no AC, so for the first time since leaving her parents’ home, Bernadine was forced to endure summer the way God had intended—without air-conditioning. It was killing her, but rather than whine and complain like she wanted to, she just dealt with it. Her trailer was supposed to arrive soon, Lord willing and the creek didn’t rise, and even if she had to buy a generator big as a 747, that sucker was going to have air.

  All in all though, she was surviving. The stars were shining. The moon came up again tonight. God is good, she thought to herself. Smiling like a woman with many blessings, she stood and went inside.

  It was pouring rain in Dallas, and Yvette Carr was driving home after a long, tiring day. Between darkness and the rain, visibility was bad. When she saw what looked to be a woman hitchhiking up ahead she stopped, powered down the passenger-side window, and yelled over the elements, “Get in!”

  The woman yanked open the door and slid into the seat. Yvette took one look at the young but heavily made-up face and knew this was somebody’s child. The girl settled in, Yvette raised the window, hit the locks, and eased back out into the traffic. “Where you going?” she asked.

  “New Orleans.”

  “In this weather?”

  The girl looked out of the window. “Sometimes a woman’s gotta do what a woman’s gotta do.”

  “Your family know where you are?”

  “Oh yeah,” she said dismissively. “They sent me bus fare, but some crackhead jumped me a little while ago and took my purse.”

  “I see.” But Yvette saw much more. Her trained eye said the girl was fourteen, fifteen tops.

  “Mind if I take off this wet jacket?”

  “No. How about I turn on some heat too.”

  “That’d be great,” she replied, running her hands up and down her thin shivering arms. She had tattoos on both biceps, but because of the gloom, Yvette couldn’t make out what they were.

  “My name is Yvette, by the way.”

  “I’m Crystal.”

  “Glad to meet you, Crystal.”

  “Same here.”

  “Pretty dangerous hitchhiking at night.”

  “I know, but I only get in a car if a woman’s driving. I ain’t crazy.”

  “That’s smart.”

  The girl looked around. “You got a nice car. I like this.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What do you do?”

  Yvette turned into a parking lot and parked by the door. “I’m a social worker, honey, and I specialize in runaways.”

  The girl’s eyes widened, then when she realized they were parked in front of a police precinct, panic filled her face and she grabbed frantically at the door, but Yvette had put the locks on lockdown the moment Crystal entered the car.

  “Bitch! Let me out!”

  When the door didn’t budge she turned to swing on Yvette, but the determined Yvette grabbed her thin wrist and held it tight. Her tone was even. “Crystal, look at me and look at you.” Yvette outweighed the teenager by a good 100 pounds. “If this gets physical I could whip your ass all over this parking lot, but that’s not me. You’re a runaway and somebody somewhere is worried about you, so let’s go inside and take care of this.”

  The girl’s mutinous face didn’t change as she snatched her arm away and sulked in the seat.

  “And sweetheart, if it turns out that you do have family in New Orleans, I will drive you there personally, free of charge. Okay?”

  “Just open the damn door! Bitch!”

  Yvette undid the lock on the driver-side door. “Come out this way.” She didn’t want to have to chase her if she took off.

  The furious Crystal scooted across the seat and joined Yvette in the rain.

  Yvette used her clicker to reset the lock and escorted the girl inside.

  CHAPTER

  9

  Trent stopped by Tamar’s to see Bernadine. She and Lily were outside on the porch going over paperwork when he arrived. Tamar was off somewhere tearing up the roads with her buddy Agnes.

  “Morning, Bernadine.” He gave Lily a quick look. “Lily.”

  Bernadine noted Lily’s frostiness but she kept her attention focused on Trent, who seemed to be doing his best not to focus on Lily. She sighed. “What’s up?”

  “Brought you the blueprint changes for the rec center.”

  “Okay, thanks. I’ll drive out in a little w
hile and you can tell me what I’m looking at.”

  He nodded. “Have you found a construction boss?”

  “Nope. Stopped looking.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I already have one. Why in the world would I pay some stranger good money when I can pay you?”

  “But I don’t want the job.”

  “I know, but your grandmother said hire you anyway, so I did.”

  “I don’t want the job,” he repeated, taking off his shades.

  “Too busy over at the garage?” she asked innocently.

  He couldn’t lie and say he was and they both knew it. There weren’t enough vehicles in the area to make the place viable, and the only thing he was really doing over there was restoring old cars and trucks.

  “Trent, you’re a July,” she told him. “Your family has lived in this place for generations. Who do you think your great-great-grandmother Olivia would want to be in charge of rebuilding her town, a family member or a stranger?”

  “That’s pretty low, Bernadine,” he replied, unable to hold back his smile.

  “Tamar called it the guilt card. Told me to play it if I needed to.”

  “You’d think such an old lady wouldn’t fight so dirty.”

  Bernadine waited.

  “Okay. You’re right, but I don’t want a salary. I’ve plenty coming in from my patent royalties.”

  “On what?”

  “Made improvements to some machinery while I was interning at college. The company I was working for helped me get them patented.”

  Bernadine was impressed with him all over again. If Lily didn’t hurry up and get it together, she just might make a play for him herself. Not really, but what was a gorgeous, talented man like him doing working on old cars in the middle of nowhere? More mysteries, she said to herself before turning her mind back to the conversation. “Okay, but I have to pay you something, so if you want to stash it in the bank or give it to charity, fine.”

  She turned to Lily, “Would you please do whatever we need to do to get him on the payroll?”

  She nodded.

  “Now that that’s settled, I think I’m ready to go check out my town. See how things are going. Lily, you ready to ride?”

  “Whenever you are.”

  “Trent, meet you there?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He stepped off the porch.

  Bernadine called to him, “Trent?”

  He looked back.

  “Thank you.”

  He touched his straw hat respectfully and was gone. Bernadine saw Lily watching him drive away. Her questions about them rose again, but she kept them to herself. “Are you two going to be able to work together?”

  “Sense the tension, do you?” Lily asked.

  “A little bit, yeah.”

  “We’ve got issues, but I can work with anybody. Even him.”

  Bernadine noted the determination in Lily’s gaze. “Okay then, but you’re my right hand and he’s my left. Can’t have the hands fighting.”

  “I understand.”

  Lily proved it when she sought Trent out at the garage later that evening. “Here’s the payroll paperwork. I need to you to fill it out and get it back to me soon as you can.”

  He took the papers from her hand. “Sure.”

  An awkward silence followed and Lily wondered how to convince him to take down the wall between them. “Do you ever hear from any of the old crew? Kenny? Sherman?”

  “Every now and then. Sherman’s in San Diego. Kenny’s in Topeka.”

  “Be nice to see them again.”

  “Yeah. I’ll bring this back in the morning. Anything else?”

  His dismissive tone stung. “No. I’ll see you later.”

  He went back inside without saying another word.

  Lily climbed into Marie’s old Pontiac and drove off.

  Bernadine had no idea how Lily had done it, but by noon the next day, the brand-new double-wide trailer homes the families would be using arrived. Trent and construction-boss Kelly pulled all the crews off the various work sites to help with the installation. The locals helped too. Bing Shepard, a certified plumber, worked with the hookup of the water lines. Tamar and her friends rode over to Hays armed with Bernadine’s credit cards and purchased everything from beds to food to new appliances.

  Bernadine knew the foster parents would probably have furniture of their own, but until they could ship their own things, they’d at least have decently furnished places to live. If they all agreed to become a part of her plans.

  She talked about the dilemma later that evening at the D&C over dinner with Tamar, Lily, and the rest of what she now called her main crew. Clay Dobbs was the designated chef that evening, and as Bernadine tasted his roasted chicken, she didn’t understand why Malachi, who was sitting right across from her at one of the tables, hadn’t already hired Clay to replace his former employee, Rocky, because the man could cook!

  Agnes asked, “So what’s going on with the foster parents?”

  Bernadine shook her head. “The two couples e-mailed me earlier. They’ve changed their minds.”

  “Oh no,” Marie said. Bernadine felt the same way; their backing out was a blow to her plans and her heart. “So unless I can find replacements soon, I’ll have to delay everything. I have my people doing background checks on a few other couples, but I’m not holding my breath.”

  Tamar and the others looked as sad as Bernadine felt. Three of the applicants in the new batch of foster parents had been dismissed out of hand. One was a registered sex offender, another had been convicted of welfare fraud, and the third was in the country illegally.

  Lily added, “But what about the two who e-mailed you last night?”

  As a result of Parkers’ news story, two new couples had expressed an interest. “One’s very surprising—a Mr. and Mrs. Reginald Garland. You may know Mrs. Garland as Roni Moore.”

  Malachi’s jaw dropped as did Clay’s. “Roni Moore?” they asked in unison. “The singer?”

  “Yep.”

  Tamar appeared confused: “Why in the world would somebody that famous want to work with foster kids in nowhere Kansas?”

  “I’ve no idea.” Bernadine couldn’t answer, but like most lovers of great R&B music, she knew all about superstar vocalist Roni Moore.

  “She hasn’t performed in years,” Marie said. “And after that terrible shooting who can blame her?”

  Malachi nodded, adding seriously, “Having a crazy man gun down your back-up singers onstage during a concert would have sent me into seclusion too. I didn’t think she was going to step back forever, though.”

  “Me either,” Lily said, “Loved her voice.”

  Bernadine had as well, along with millions of fans worldwide. “When she e-mailed me, I thought maybe she’d fostered or adopted before, but my people couldn’t find anything in the public record, and believe me, they looked.”

  Marie said, “I don’t remember anything about her being married though.”

  Clay said, “Seems like I read about that in Jet magazine. Husband was one of the doctors who took care of her after the shooting.”

  Bernadine wasn’t sure what to make of the Garlands’ desire to be foster parents, but she hoped their commitment was real.

  Bing asked, “So what about the other couple? Who are they?”

  “The Paynes. He’s a career marine. Retired.”

  Malachi shrugged. “Might be a nice addition. Some of those military types are crazy, though.”

  “Yeah,” Clay added. “We already have Riley. We don’t need any more escapees from the asylum.”

  Bernadine smiled. “He and his wife have no children, and they’ve been stationed all over the world. The background check didn’t find anything scary in their backgrounds. Having a marine in the mix might help with the discipline the kids’ll probably need.”

  Trent walked in. He’d been dealing with the electric company hooking into the power grid, and they’d just finished. “What did I miss?” br />
  “Go get a plate first and we’ll catch you up,” his grandmother said.

  When he returned from the kitchen he took a seat in the booth next to his father. Bernadine gave him a thumbnail sketch of what they’d been discussing and then said, “Now, the kids.”

  She was worried about this portion of the meeting. On paper a couple of the children looked problematic. She looked down at her notes. “Up first, Amari Steele—aka Flash.”

  “Why Flash?” Bing asked.

  “Apparently because he steals cars really, really fast.”

  “What?” they all shouted.

  “Am I stuttering?” she asked amused, “The child is a car thief named Steele, of all things. Busted five times in the last six months.”

  “How old is he?” Tamar asked.

  She looked up from the sheet. “Eleven.”

  “You’re kidding?” Agnes said.

  “Nope. Our first candidate is a convicted carjacker. I expect you all want to spit me like a chicken after hearing this.”

  The elders simply shook their heads.

  “Who’s next?” Malachi asked.

  She read silently for a moment. “Zoey Raymond. Seven. Doesn’t speak.”

  “Doesn’t speak as in mute?” Marie asked, her confused face accented by her black cat’s-eye glasses.

  “No. Says here, physically fine, but doesn’t speak. Suffered some type of trauma. Mother was a crack addict. Father unknown.”

  “That’s sad.” Bernadine agreed and went on to the three other kids the agencies wanted to place. “We have next, Preston Mays. Twelve. Eight foster homes in the past year.” She found that shocking. More than a placement every two months. The sadness in that fact tugged at her heart. “Asthmatic. Tests in the upper second percentile of his class at school.”

  “A smart young man,” Tamar said, impressed.

  “Known to be a fire starter.”

  “Get out!” Clay exclaimed.

  Dismay flashed on every face in the place.

  “Next, Crystal Chambers. Fourteen.”