Chasing Down a Dream Page 4
Chapter 3
On her way into town for lunch and the pool opening festivities, Tamar was driving along July Road in her ancient truck, Olivia. Loving the power in the olive-green Ford, she gleefully hit the curve doing eighty-five miles per hour. She was well known for her need for speed but upon seeing a brown county squad car pull out behind her, its bubble flashing, she let out a sigh, downshifted, and eased to a stop on the gravel shoulder to wait. She didn’t expect more than a warning. After all, the county deputies knew she drove like an Indy qualifier. Using her rearview mirror to see which one it might be, her jaw dropped at the sight of an unfamiliar African American female in the familiar brown uniform and hat. There were only three men of color under County Sheriff Will Dalton’s command, but when had this woman been hired, and why hadn’t Tamar been informed?
The woman had clear dark skin, and although tall, appeared to be too young to be an officer of the law. She leaned down and said through Olivia’s lowered window, “Good afternoon, ma’am. License and registration please.”
Unaccustomed to being asked to show her papers, Tamar swallowed her pique, leaned over, and withdrew the documents from the glove box. “You’re new here.”
“Yes, ma’am. Deputy Davida Ransom.” She took a moment to compare Tamar’s face to the photo on the license, checked the registration, and passed them back. “Do you know what the speed limit is on this road, Ms. July.”
“Since it’s named after my family, of course I do.”
The woman paused.
Tamar asked, “When did Will hire you?”
This time she studied Tamar intently. “A week ago.”
“And you’re from, where?”
“Denver.”
“Welcome to Kansas, Deputy Ransom. My family has lived in Henry Adams over a hundred years.”
“Nice to know, but it doesn’t give you the right to endanger yourself and others by speeding.”
Tamar bristled. She knew the young woman was just doing her job but that didn’t soothe her irritation when the deputy handed her a speeding ticket.
Ransom said, “I wrote it for five miles over the limit as opposed to the fifteen you were actually doing.”
Tamar eyed her coolly but the woman appeared unfazed.
“Slow down, Ms. July. Thanks for the welcome. Nice meeting you.”
Tamar lied, “Same here.”
Ransom touched her hat respectfully, walked back to her vehicle, and drove off in the opposite direction.
Seething, Tamar steered Olivia back onto the road, and just to show how she felt about being ticketed for the first time in her life, she floored Olivia the rest of the way into town.
The Dog’s jukebox was blaring “Mustang Sally” by Wilson Pickett when she entered. The long line of people waiting to be seated ahead of her only added to her mood so she pulled rank as resident matriarch and caught Rocky’s eye. The set of her jaw must have let Rocky know she was not to be fooled with today, so she came over and took her to a booth in the back. Without being told, Rocky grabbed a carafe of coffee and poured the steaming brew into Tamar’s waiting cup. “You look like you want to shoot somebody.”
“I just got a speeding ticket.”
Rocky was smart enough to keep her smile hidden. “And who had the audacity to do that?”
“A new deputy named Davida Ransom.”
“Guess she doesn’t know you double for Danica Patrick around here, huh?”
The black hawkeyes gave Rocky a hard stare, which left her as unfazed as Deputy Ransom. Tamar exhaled a breath of frustration. “I’ve never been ticketed in my life.”
“We’ve been telling you for years to slow down. Deputy Ransom just earned herself a free lunch. You drive entirely too fast. All the time.”
The jaw tightened further. “I’ll have my usual,” Tamar said tersely.
Rocky’s grin played on her lips as she left Tamar sugaring her coffee.
On her way to put in Tamar’s order Rocky was stopped by Mal.
“Tamar looks like she’s spitting nails.”
“She is. Got a speeding ticket from a new deputy.”
His face widened with surprise. “Really? What’s the deputy’s name?”
“Davida Ransom.”
“If Will comes in for lunch, I’ll let him know Deputy Ransom gets a meal on the house. Maybe now she’ll slow down.”
“Great minds think alike.”
After lunch, having almost gotten over her annoying encounter with Deputy Davida Ransom, Tamar allowed herself to enjoy the festive atmosphere and the people waiting for the pool’s opening ceremony. There were balloons, hot dogs cooking under the watchful eye of town grill masters Clay Dobbs and his buddy Bing Shepard, bags of chips, and soft drinks nestled in colorful ice-filled tubs. The fenced-in pool was behind the rec center, and the area around it was packed with people laughing and conversing. The Henry Adams kids, from Eli and Crystal down to Kelly and Bobby Douglas’s toddler twins, were decked out in new swim gear and chomping at the bit to jump in. Preston and Amari were doing their best not to ogle the lifeguard, a tall curvy brown-skinned beauty named Simone Vale, and failing badly. Preston’s girlfriend, Leah, noting the interest, was glaring so icily their way, Tamar was surprised the pool’s water hadn’t frozen over. Bernadine let it be known that everyone in the area was welcome to enjoy the new pool, so there was a large group of people and children from neighboring Franklin.
“I hear you got a ticket this morning.”
Tamar fixed a leveling stare on Marie Jefferson. Never without her signature cat-eye glasses, she’d served as the town’s only teacher until retiring a few years ago. She was now school superintendent and her family had been in Henry Adams even longer than the Julys.
“Stop giving me the evil eye,” Marie said in response to Tamar’s look. “Everybody knows you drive too fast. Glad the new deputy had the guts to write you up.”
Wondering how much more of this she’d have to put up with, Tamar turned away and focused on barber and former Henry Adams mayor Riley Curry. Dressed in a new version of his old black suit, complete with a fake red carnation on his lapel, he was skinning and grinning his way through the crowd.
Marie asked, “Why is Riley decked out like he’s been asked to speak?”
“Who knows.” After finding himself destitute and homeless last month, he’d supposedly turned over a new leaf, but many in town, Tamar included, remained skeptical. “His talking about running for mayor this fall means he’s as delusional as ever.”
“Nobody’s going to vote for him,” Marie stated flatly, “but two thumbs up on this pool. For Henry Adams to have gone from being destitute to having this gorgeous pool is amazing. The Dusters would be so proud.”
Tamar agreed. The founders certainly wouldn’t recognize the place. They’d lived in dugouts that first winter back in 1879 and the only structures aboveground were the pipes of the stoves that kept them warm. “Who’s that with the purple hair?” she asked Marie.
“Candy Stevens. She’s the new butcher over at Gary’s store.”
Tamar had no problems with her hair; Siz changed his hair color seemingly daily. What bothered her was her unfamiliar face. First Deputy Ransom and now a new butcher. Since when did folks come to town and not introduce themselves. “Any other new folks I should know about?”
Marie appeared confused by the question and the tone. “I’m not sure, Tamar.”
“As the matriarch, I’m supposed to know everyone.”
“Place is growing. Those days might be over.”
Tamar didn’t like the sound of that. What use was a matriarch if no one respected her enough to at least pretend to honor her position?
“Do you want me to bring Candy over so you two can meet?”
“No.”
Marie studied her closely. “You okay?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
Tamar huffed out an impatient breath. “Trent needs to hurry up and get this show on the road. It’s hot s
tanding out in this sun.” She ignored the concern on Marie’s face and concentrated on Trent now stepping up to the blue satin ribbon to get things underway.
As always, his remarks were short, and when he finished he turned the mic over to Lyman Proctor, Franklin’s newly appointed town supervisor. He offered a few words thanking Bernadine and the people of Henry Adams for including the residents of Franklin in the grand opening.
Trent stepped to the mic again. “And now, I’d like to invite my son Amari July to the ribbon.”
The surprise on Amari’s face generated smiles and chuckles.
Trent continued. “If I remember correctly, building a town pool was his idea, so we want him to cut the ribbon.”
Appearing both proud and embarrassed, Amari took the scissors and made the cut. Applause and cheers filled the air and Trent called out, “The Astrid Wiggins Memorial Pool is now open. Let the swimming begin!”
There were races, cannonball contests off the diving board, and dodgeball games played with beach balls. Soon after, a pool-wide game of Marco Polo broke out.
Tamar watched the fun for a while then walked the short distance to the rec center. Inside, the air-conditioning felt good after being out in the heat of the day. She entered the office she and her volunteers used as the base of operations for everything from prepping for the Friday Night Movies to conducting the yearly tornado drills and sat at her desk. Marie’s words came back: Those days might be over. Were they, she wondered? Would progress pave over all she’d done to preserve the history and soul of Henry Adams, like the old dirt roads had been? Would there come a day when the names of their ancestors like Mayor Olivia July and schoolteacher Cara Lee Jefferson were forgotten? A chill spread through her. In truth, she knew it was a possibility because it had happened before. When the town was at its nadir, the handful of residents that remained, including herself, were so focused on surviving they’d stopped celebrating August First, once its most honored tradition. The old photo albums passed down to her by her father, Trenton, had lain in her bedroom closet all but forgotten. Then Bernadine and the families arrived, reinfusing Henry Adams with life and vitality. Amari personally revived the August First parade, and the day, originally celebrated by nineteenth-century abolitionists to honor Britain’s decision to end slavery in the West Indies, became special again.
“What are you doing in here by yourself? You okay?”
She glanced up to see her grandson the mayor in the doorway. “Yes. Just doing some old lady thinking.”
He came in and sat down. “Heard you got a ticket.”
“Is there anyone who hasn’t heard?”
“Probably not. Small town you know.”
She rolled her eyes. For all his gentle ribbing, she loved him madly.
He asked, “So what kind of old lady thinking? Anything a young pup like myself can help with?”
“No. Just thinking about time passing and the change it’s bringing. Nothing earth-shattering.”
He studied her. He knew her better than anyone except maybe her BFF Mable Lane. “You sure?” he asked.
“Positive, so go on back and run your town. I have things to do.”
He stood but she noted his reluctance. “I’m fine, Trent. Really.”
“All right. If I find out you’re holding out on me, I’m putting you in time out.”
“Bye.”
His smile met hers and he departed, leaving her alone with her melancholy thoughts. She didn’t wallow for long, though. The Friday Night Movies were on tap for later, so she stood and went to work.
After enjoying the Friday Night Movie at the rec center, Rocky cuddled next to Jack while he drove them back to her place. “Did you like the movie?” she asked.
“I did.”
She peered up into his shadow-covered face. “Are you telling the truth, Professor?”
“I am. I’ve always liked Jurassic Park.”
“But?”
He grinned. “You’re not supposed to know me that well, Rock.”
“If we’re getting married, I should know a little bit about you, don’t you think?”
“Yes.”
“So, spill it.”
“I’d like a serious movie sometimes.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He quieted a moment as if thinking. “Ever seen Lion in Winter?”
“No. Who’s in it?”
“Katherine Hepburn and Peter O’Toole.”
“Ah, the African Queen and Lawrence of Arabia. What’s it about?”
So, he told her about the movie’s fictional take on the intrigue surrounding the marriage of O’Toole’s character Henry the Second and Hepburn’s Eleanor of Aquitaine. Rocky found herself fascinated. “So, Eleanor had one of their kids start a rebellion against his dad, the King—her husband. And he put her in prison?”
“Yes.”
“She was that much of a badass?”
He nodded. “She rode on one of the Crusades, too.”
“Sounds like my kind of woman.”
He laughed and Rocky admitted to enjoying the sound of it as much as she did him. “How about we have our own movie night then?” she asked.
“Great idea. Can we have snacks?”
“Yes, Professor, as long as you don’t pick a movie that puts me to sleep. How about we add Seven Beauties to our list, too?”
He stared her way.
She smiled. “What’s the matter? Shocked you, did I?”
“No offense intended, but yes.”
“Just because I’ve seen Mad Max a thousand times, doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a film,” she said in a mock haughty tone. “Lina Wertmüller was the first female director nominated for an Oscar. I liked her Swept Away, too.”
“Where’d you see them?”
His still-stunned tone was amusing. “Marie rented them back in the day.”
“I’m impressed.”
“There’s more to me than motorcycles and leather, my dear Professor.”
“I like the motorcycles and leather.”
She swore he waggled his eyebrows, so she tossed out, “Down boy, before we hit something.”
He laughed and she snuggled closer.
When they reached her trailer, they sat in the quiet interior of his truck. Rocky wondered if she’d ever get used to being in love. “I got a call from your mom today,” she told him.
“Has she booked Buckingham Palace for our wedding and invited the Queen?”
“Not as far as I know.” His mother had been giving them fits about wanting in on the wedding plans. “She said she has a few more people she needs to invite and wants me to say yes, they can come.”
“No,” he said firmly. “She’s invited way too many people as it is. Most of whom I don’t even know.”
“That was my reaction too, but I wanted to get your opinion first.”
“Do you want me to talk to her?”
“No. She and I need to come to an understanding about who runs what, and that will never get straight if I pass everything off to you. I like your mother, probably a lot more than she does me—”
“Rock, she—”
“I’m being real here, Jack. She tolerates me at best, and I’m okay with that. It’s the price I’m willing to pay to be around your fabulous dad.”
“He is the bonus.”
“Yes, he is, but they come as a package, so I’m being respectful. They’re elders after all, and your parents, but she’s trying to take advantage of that.” Since learning about the wedding, Stella James had pushed to have a say in where they got married, who married them, the date, the time, the service, and the menu at the reception. “The only thing she hasn’t wanted to take charge of is the music.”
“That’s because she’s tone deaf,” he replied, and placed a supportive kiss on her brow. “How mad are you?”
“Not very, but if she keeps poking the bear I may have to eat her.”
“She probably tastes really good with mustard.”
“Will there be leather involved?”
She laughed. “Get out of the truck, crazy man.”
Inside, Jack marveled at the beauty of her place as he always did. The eclectic furniture, a mix of secondhand store and flea-market finds, melded nicely with others made of expensive exotic woods. Vibrant, gallery-quality artwork covered the walls. One piece in particular, a large blue-themed watercolor painted by Crystal of the leather-wearing Rock astride her Black Shadow motorcycle, was his favorite. Crystal had somehow managed to capture her fierceness and her vulnerability. He didn’t know where Rock would place all her furniture and art when she moved into his place but he planned to sit back and enjoy them enlivening his very vanilla home. After losing his wife Eva to cancer five years ago, he was sure he’d never love again, but the moment he set eyes on Rochelle call me Rocky Dancer, after moving to Henry Adams, he was a goner. Bets were placed all over town as to whether she’d give him the time of day, and he and everyone else was convinced she wouldn’t. But he’d been persistent, not in a stalking way but in a way that gave her space. Eventually she’d lowered her shields, and then her heart, and now they were planning to marry around Labor Day, if she didn’t jump on her Black Shadow and roar off into the sunset.
The thought of that was chilling. He wanted to believe she’d show up at the church but there was no guarantee. She was an extraordinary woman who played the flute, restored classic motorcycles, and had more tools than most men. She also had a passion for cooking and sports. On the inside, however, she was like a wary child peering out of the shadows. With her family history, he understood why. So, he loved her gently, hoping to fill those spaces with feelings of softness, safety, and reassurance.
“You want coffee?” she asked from the kitchen.
“Sure.”
Although she refused to drink decaf, he did, and she began purchasing it for him soon after their first date. It pleased him because it meant she valued his place in her life.
Coffee mugs in hand, they walked back to the living room and took seats on her buttery soft, navy-blue leather sofa. He draped an arm over the back and she rested her head against his shoulder and asked, “So, have you decided where we’re going on our honeymoon?”