Bring on the Blessings Read online

  “No. The girl he loved and probably still loves married somebody else.”

  Bernadine thought that was sad.

  “Mr. Shepard said he was a World War Two vet?”

  “Yep. Left with Clay’s dad to go fight Hitler together, but they wound up helping the Black troops build a highway up in Alaska.”

  “Alaska?” It was yet another little-known fact of Black history associated with the town that Bernadine had no clue about.

  “Yep. Have him tell you the story sometime. Be good for the kids to learn about it too, I’ll bet.”

  Bernadine bet she was right. “Do they farm?”

  “They used to when they were younger. Clay raised hogs until last year and had the best bacon around now he’s living on Social Security like the rest of us.”

  “What about Marie Jefferson?”

  “Agnes’s only child. College graduate. Taught school here until the tornado tore the place up. Never married.”

  “Okay, so tell me about Riley and Genevieve. How long have they been married?”

  “Almost forty years. She grew up over in Franklin. Her father owned the funeral home over there. She came from money, which everybody thinks attracted Riley to her in the first place.”

  “How’d he make his living?”

  “Helped out at the funeral home after they got married, then when her father passed, the place went to one of her cousins instead of him. Made him pretty mad. He moved back here and opened up a barber shop. Was pretty successful until the town started to die. He still cuts hair though. Menfolk say he’s pretty good. Of course, they have to listen to him preach the Gospel According to Riley, but they’re used to it by now.”

  “Is he on Social Security too?”

  “Yep. Growing up, he told anybody who’d listen that he’d be a millionaire by the time he turned thirty.”

  “Never made it.”

  “Nope. Kinda hard to do living out here on the plains with only a high school education. The world wasn’t as open for us back then as it is these days.”

  “But people did make it.”

  “Oh, of course. Look at that man that started Ebony magazine. John Johnson. Started out picking rags. Riley never had that much ambition though. He’s always been looking for somebody to hand him the money.”

  “Like with the annexation deal?”

  “You got it.”

  The info gave Bernadine a somewhat clearer picture of the former mayor. “But why was he mayor for so long?”

  “Nobody else wanted the job.”

  “Ah.”

  Later, as she snuggled beneath the soft bedding in Tamar’s spare bedroom, she thought back on the remarkable day and the equally remarkable welcome she’d received. Smiling, she offered a whispered thank you to the Big Sister up above for all the blessings, then closed her eyes and slept.

  Trent moved around his silent studio apartment above the town’s garage and prepared for bed. It had been an interesting day. He still couldn’t get over the fact that Bernadine Brown was Black and that he liked her. She seemed to be no-nonsense. She also didn’t put on any airs, which he found surprising considering how big her bank account must be. He didn’t know anyone capable of putting their hands on 3.5 mil to buy a whole town let alone a Black woman.

  Yet her debut had gone fine, practically had people eating out her hand by the time she was done. He shook his head and sat in the old rocker Tamar had donated to his furnishings and took off his boots. Her plans were ambitious ones and only time would tell if she’d bitten off more than she could chew, but he’d help in any way he could if it meant the town would be reborn.

  He wondered about the children and how they’d react to being here in the proverbial middle of nowhere. Would they think of it as a haven or try and leave as soon as possible? Although his neighbors had pledged their support of the plan, how would they really react to children who weren’t their own? Ms. Brown was right about the people in the area being able to teach the kids things, but would they want to learn about farming or how to build houses or how to plant crops?

  On a more personal level, he’d always wanted to be a father. Would mentoring the foster children be an outlet for that unfulfilled dream? Trent had no clue and rather than make himself crazy with questions he had no answers to, he turned off the lights and went to bed.

  That night In Milwaukee, twelve-year-old Preston Mays was being driven home from the ER by his foster mother. He’d had a bad asthma attack a few hours ago, but because she wouldn’t buy him an inhaler, he’d had to flop around on his bed, gulping like a fish out of water and wait until she got home from having her nails done so she could drive him to the doctor. He hated hospitals, but he hated her even more. “The doctor said you need to get me an inhaler,” he told her.

  “If you’d lose some weight and stop trying to tell me what to do all the time, you wouldn’t be having these problems.”

  Looking out at the night and the lights of the buildings, Preston rolled his eyes. “I need an inhaler.”

  “You need to shut the hell up. The money the state’s paying me ain’t worth all this drama.”

  He sighed and wondered where the state got these people. He’d been in seven different homes in the past year. All of them worthless, but rather than argue further, he took matters into his own hands.

  Later, after she went to bed, he set fire to the house. He started at the back to ensure they both got out safely. He wasn’t trying to murder anybody; he just wanted to be out of her life, and to have an inhaler, of course.

  When he confessed to the firemen that he’d done it on purpose, they called CPS.

  CHAPTER

  6

  Driving north on Highway 183, Lily Fontaine couldn’t believe she was actually back in Kansas, but all she had to do was look out the window of the rental car at the flat rolling plains of green and gold to know the truth. She’d been born and raised in Kansas, Topeka to be exact, but had spent her teenage years living in Henry Adams under the watchful eye of her mother’s college roommate Marie Jefferson while Lily’s mom, Cassandra, did a three-year stint with the Peace Corps over in southern Africa. Marie was also Lily’s godmother, and when Cass lost her battle with cancer during Lily’s junior year at the University of Kansas, Marie had been with her at the grave site.

  Lily’s son, Davis, had never known his grandmother and that fact always saddened her, but she felt blessed to have been Cassandra Fontaine’s daughter and to have had her dynamic personality in her life.

  After Cass’s death, the bond between Lily and Marie cemented. As a youngster, Davis had spent many summer vacations out here on the plains running barefoot and free, and as far as he was concerned, Marie was his gram. Most times Lily had stayed home to get a break from raising such a rambunctious boy child and because of her workload as the executive secretary to the president of one of the nation’s biggest pharmaceutical companies. Her last visit to Henry Adams had been ten years ago, when she’d flown in to help the town celebrate Marie’s fiftieth birthday.

  In reality, Lily was looking forward to spending ten days doing absolutely nothing in a place that offered absolutely nothing to do. Now that her company had been purchased and swallowed up by one of its major competitors, she had time to smell the roses and enjoy the simple things in life, like visiting her godmother.

  She was also looking forward to the news about Henry Adams’s new owner. It had broken her heart to hear about the town’s financial difficulties. When she last talked to Marie the buyer was supposed to be flying in to check out the place, and Lily was anxious to find out how the meeting had gone.

  This trip back did have a potential bad side though. One of the things she wasn’t looking forward to was Trent July. When she last visited, he’d been living in California, but she knew through Marie that he’d since returned and was now the mayor. Lily had no idea what would happen when they met face-to-face after all these years, but the guilt was rising.

  Setting that aside for now,
she fiddled with the radio. The rental car had no CD player, so for the last thirty-five miles, she’d been forced to listen to static, farm reports, and what passed for talk radio out on the plains. She knew it was useless to search for real music, but she was hoping to hear something a bit more conducive to an urban woman like herself, but she got nothing. Strike that. When smoke began streaming out from under the hood like a house on fire, she got plenty.

  By the grace of God she was only a few miles outside of Henry Adams and she and the sputtering car managed to make it into the local garage. Back in high school, Rocky’s dad had owned the place, but she had no idea whether he still did. The gray smoke billowing from under the hood was making it nearly impossible to see, and she prayed not to hit anybody or anything.

  “Stop!” A man yelled.

  She stomped down on the brake.

  “You almost hit me!”

  He came striding out of the smoke. He was dressed in a pair of oil-stained denim overalls and wiping his hands on a dirty rag, and his face—the grim but familiar face—hit her with such force she went instantly still. Memories washed back, hot and strong, bringing with them a decade’s-old shame.

  His eyes met hers through the open window, and he stopped, whispered, “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  She swallowed and managed a fake little smile. “Hey, Trent.”

  “Lily.”

  His one-word response held about as much warmth as his eyes, but it was no more than she deserved, she supposed. “You, um, work here?”

  He nodded.

  She could tell by the set of his jaw that he was remembering too. She forced herself to keep her gaze steady. “You think you could see what’s going on with all this smoke?”

  “Pop the hood.”

  She reached down and pulled the lever. Straightening again, she realized her hands were shaking. Drawing in a deep breath to settle her nerves, she wondered why he’d come back. He’d gotten his engineering degree from Stanford and had worked for one of the big multinational construction firms. In high school he’d been captain of the football team, and wherever he went it was wet panties all around. Women young and old adored him. Lily had adored him too. He’d adored her as well, but after she went off to college things became complicated. During one of his visits to see her freshman year, she’d hurt him so badly they broke apart like a dropped piece of china, and she hadn’t set eyes on him since.

  “There’s oil all over the engine,” he told her. “Whoever worked on it last didn’t replace the cap.”

  “So that’s what making all the smoke?”

  He nodded.

  “Can you clean it up? This is all I have to drive while I’m here.”

  “Glad to hear you won’t be staying.”

  She supposed she’d earned that but she hadn’t come to town to start anything. “How much?”

  “Won’t know until I’m done.”

  “Okay.” Lily knew there was no way she was going to hang around the garage while he did whatever he had to do to the car, and she was pretty sure he didn’t want her there, so she reached for her phone lying on the passenger seat and punched up Marie…or at least tried to. The phone didn’t respond. No bars. “There’s no cell service out here?”

  “Nope. Land line only. The one tower we had was blown down two years ago.”

  “And the phone company didn’t put it back up?”

  “No. Said the small population wouldn’t justify the expense.”

  “Then do you have a phone I can use?”

  “In the office.”

  She got out and followed him back.

  He stood in the door while she dialed. His silent scrutiny made her turn away. When Marie answered, Lily explained about the car. “Will you come get me?”

  “I have a pie in the oven. Have Trent run you out.”

  Not a chance. She ignored his chilly stare. “He’s working. I don’t think his boss will just let him up and leave.” There weren’t any other workers inside the small cramped building, but she had seen three beat-up old cars waiting like patients at an Auto Urgent Care.

  Marie’s response brought Lily up short. “He is the boss?” She caught the ghost of a smile that crossed his dark face just before he said, “Leave the keys and take your valuables.”

  He walked away.

  Marie told her to go over to the Dog and Cow and wait there. She’d pick her up after the pie was done.

  When Lily came back out to the garage, he was nowhere to be seen. Not that it mattered. The less they saw of each other the better. She beat down the gnawing guilt that came with the knowledge that she alone was responsible for the gulf between them and turned her attention to how she was going to get to the Dog and Cow without a ride.

  Out in back of the garage, the tight-jawed Trent stood and waited for his emotions to slow. Lily. He wished Marie had warned him she was coming so he could have been prepared. As it stood, seeing her again brought back memories he thought he’d buried, but the old anger rose again, reminding him of that humiliating day when she and her big city college friends had broken him down and sent him slinking home like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. Willing himself not to remember that at one time he’d loved Lily Fontaine as much as he’d loved breathing, he reined himself in and went back out front but found her gone. Looking up the road he saw her walking away. He let her go.

  Lily decided she didn’t want to wait at the Dog and Cow. It was a good five miles to Marie’s place and she hadn’t walked five miles in, well, years, but it was either that or face Trent again and beg a ride, so she chose to hoof it. One encounter with him had been more than enough. In her haste to get away, she’d left her water on the seat and the late morning sun was kicking her behind. The rolling suitcase being pulled behind her was a problem too. The wheels were designed for the smooth polished floors of airports, not the dusty pock-filled dirt that passed for roads in north-central Kansas. Every few feet the damn thing went off track or hit a rock and she had to stop, untangle the wheels, and start up again. It was like pulling a balky mule. She pressed on however, alternately cursing and begging the angels for mercy.

  They must have been listening because a half a mile out, an old red truck rolled up on her. It stopped, the passenger-side door opened, and inside sat the smiling Malachi July under the wheel.

  Looking all the world like his son would in fifteen years he called out in a surprised voice, “Lily Fontaine? Is that you?”

  She grinned back. “Sure is, Mr. July. How are you?”

  “Get in and I’ll tell you.”

  Needing no more of an invitation than that, she tossed her suitcase in the bed and he drove them away.

  He handed her a canteen, and she drank down the ice-cold water gratefully. Handing it back, she wiped her mouth, as ladylike as she could and sat back against the seat, content.

  “Since you were lugging that suitcase I’m assuming you just got in? Why’re you walking?”

  “Rental car had issues so I left it with Trent.”

  He looked over. “How’d it go?”

  She shrugged. “He was polite.”

  “Good. He never told me why you two broke up and I don’t expect you to either, but you’d’ve made a great daughter-in-law, Lily.”

  For all of his womanizing ways Malachi Trent had always been kind to her and she appreciated that kindness now. “It was my fault.” The memory of the anger and hurt on Trent’s face that day in her dormitory was as fresh in her mind as if it had happened yesterday. The harsh demeaning laughter directed his way by her so-called college friends rose to taunt her as well. Looking back she was appalled at how she’d treated him. She was surprised he hadn’t tossed her out of his garage headfirst.

  “You staying with Marie?”

  She nodded. Thinking about the rift with Trent cast a shadow over her mood.

  “Lily?”

  She looked his way.

  “It’ll work out.”

  She didn’t know if she agreed but
she said softly, “We’ll see.”

  They drove along in silence and the familiar lay of the land touched her. When she graduated from high school and moved downstate to attend college, you couldn’t have paid her to come back. The big city with all its glitter and glitz filled her in ways Henry Adams had not. She’d gotten to see plays, attend concerts, lectures, and make friends with people from all over the world. In spite of the drama surrounding her marriage and the subsequent divorce, resettling here held no draw whatsoever, but now after decades of raising Davis and running from pillar to post with her job, the slow life had an odd appeal she found surprising.

  Malachi’s voice broke into her thoughts. “I promised Tamar I’d bring her some eggs. You mind if we stop a minute?”

  “No. Be nice to see her. Marie says she’s still going strong.”

  “Eighty-four and counting. Still driving too.”

  “She’s an amazing woman.”

  “It’s that July blood. Great-aunt Teresa lived to be a hundred and five.”

  As the drive continued and she listened to him tell her about his wild outlaw ancestors, Lily’s mood lightened.

  Bernadine finished breakfast with a smile. The eggs, bacon, and toast had been just enough. She’d turned down the waffles Tamar first suggested. Waffles were a little too heavy for the summertime. She looked across the table at her hostess. “Thank you for breakfast and for taking me in.”

  “My pleasure. Glad to have somebody to cook for besides myself.”

  Bernadine got up and began clearing the table.

  “And what do you think you’re doing, missy?”

  “Cleaning up.”

  “Sit.”

  Bernadine ignored her. The least she could do was earn her keep. “Tell me where everything goes, let me do these dishes, and then I’ll sit.”

  Tamar’s unwavering gaze made Bernadine think of a hawk. In a way she did resemble an exotic bird with her dark skin, sharp features, and brilliant black eyes. Gray hair gleaming with the high sheen of silver ran down her back like an undulating river. “You defying me?”