A Second Helping (4 page)

The two girls grinned at each other.

Crystal looked up at Amari and Preston. “What do you two want?”

“We just came to say hey to Zoey and Devon. Excuse us for trying to be polite, your majesty.”

“Beat it.”

So they did.

Outside on the porch they took seats on the steps to wait to be called for dinner. Crystal all but forgotten, Amari asked, “So, what was it like being around all those marines?”

“Boring with a capital B,” Preston grumbled. “I've never seen so many stiff-assed people, in or out of uniform, in my life. Women too. Except the one that kept trying to hit on the colonel.”

“What?” Amari shouted.

“Keep your voice down,” Preston warned, looking around hastily to make sure they hadn't been overheard by anyone inside. “Yeah. Some military nurse. She was acting like maybe she'd been the colonel's boo back in the day.”

“Did Mrs. Payne check her?”

“Nope, but I could see the mad in her eyes.”

“When was this?”

“First day we got there. There was a dinner that night. The nurse sat at our table. By the look on Mrs. Payne's face, I knew the nurse hadn't been invited to sit with us.”

“Man.”

“No kidding. All the nurse lady kept talking about was how much fun she and the colonel had while he was healing up from some wound he got during Desert Storm.”

“Fun?”

“Yep. No telling what that meant, but the next day, Mrs. Payne rented a car and she and I went to Disney World for the duration. You ever been there?”

“Nope.”

“It's great, man. Maybe we can get your dad and the O.G. to take just me and you sometime. It was off the hook.”

But Amari was still mulling over the conversation about
Colonel and Mrs. Payne. He took a real interest in people, especially the ones he now called family, and the Paynes qualified as that. What part had this nurse played in the past lives of Preston's foster parents?

“Amari? You still on the planet?”

He looked up to see Preston standing. “Sorry, man. What?”

Preston smiled. “Tamar just called us. It's time to eat. Let's go.”

“Okay. Right behind you.”

 

During the renovation of Tamar's home last fall, one of the items on her wish list had been a larger dining room and kitchen. The wish had been granted, and now she had more than enough room to house everyone. Lily, like everyone else, was helping to set the tables. The adults were going to be seated at the big new one and the children were around the old one brought in from the kitchen. Of course, Crystal had issues with the seating.

“Why do I have to sit with the little kids?” she complained loud enough for everyone to hear.

Lily set a steaming bowl of mashed potatoes down on the kiddie table. “Because you keep whining like a little kid about where you're sitting.”

Snickers from Amari and Preston instantly drew Crystal's ire, but she took her seat without another word and Lily went back to her job.

Once the tables were loaded down with food and everyone was seated, Tamar, reigning at the head of the grown folks table, quieted the room. “Devon, will you say grace, please?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

The little eight-year-old ordained deacon stood. After everyone bowed their head, he began. “Heavenly Father, we thank you for this gathering and the bounty on our tables. Bless us with your love and guidance, and bless the hands that prepared this food. Please don't forget the poor and the people who give them hope. In your son Jesus' name, we pray. Amen.”

Amens
echoed in agreement.

Plates were filled, and as folks dug in, conversation resumed.

Lily surveyed this group of people she'd come to know and love. From the eldest to the youngest, they'd helped make her existence so much richer. Last year at this time, she'd been living in Atlanta. She'd just taken a corporate buyout, and although the money had given her the financial freedom she'd always craved, her so-called personal life had been nothing to celebrate. The man she'd been seeing was as boring as pond water, yet she'd considered marrying him. Thank God for Henry Adams and Bernadine Brown. The trip back to Henry Adams for her godmother Marie's birthday party last summer turned Lily's world upside down and inside out. Not only had she found purpose by working with Bernadine on revitalizing the town and fostering Devon, she'd rediscovered love with Trent July. As if knowing he was in her thoughts, he looked up from his plate and met her eyes. The wink he shot her made her grin.

She glanced across the table at Sheila Payne. Although Lily didn't know the colonel's wife as well as she did, say, Bernadine, the women in town had forged a bond in the
nine months they'd been neighbors, and it was plain to see that all was not right with Sheila. She'd always been somewhat reserved at these gatherings, but this evening she looked withdrawn and sad. Her manner made Lily wonder what was up. The colonel had never been the most open person either, but he seemed himself and didn't appear aware of his wife's mood. Lily had never been one to meddle in other people's business, so she didn't plan on asking Sheila for the 411, or on saying anything to Bernadine, but something about Sheila was definitely off.

Amari noticed it too, but unlike Lily, Amari knew the reason. The sadness he saw in her eyes reminded him of the look in Mrs. Curry's eyes when she lost her home because of Mr. Curry's killer pig. Mrs. Curry had helped him a lot with his reading in school last year and he'd been trying to think of a special way to thank her that would also make her feel better about all the mess in her life. So far he hadn't come up with anything, but he knew he would, he just had to keep thinking.

He looked across the room to Tamar. The idea of having to face her was enough to make him break out into a sweat. Right now, however, his biggest concern lay in finishing the large bowl of homemade ice cream before him, so setting his worries aside, he concentrated on that.

Had Preston, Lily, or Amari asked her, Sheila Payne would have told them they were all correct. Sheila was not herself, and as she and Barrett drove home from the dinner at Tamar's, the reason for her unhappiness could be laid at the feet of Sheila's old nemesis, Martina “Marti” Nelson. Barrett met the surgical nurse in a military hospital while
recuperating from a broken leg he'd sustained during Desert Storm and before anyone could say
Semper fi
, the two became lovers. Their affair lasted over a year. Although Sheila had known about the adulterous relationship early on, she'd had no idea what to do about it, or how to heal her hurt. A more confident woman like Lily or Bernadine might have confronted him, maybe even filed for divorce, but she hadn't done either. She was a marine wife and the daughter of a naval officer. Military women weren't supposed to complain. The corps had protocols for handling weapons and prisoners of war but nothing on handling adultery. Some of the other long-married military wives told her it was natural for a man his age to go sniffing around, and for her to sit tight, he'd come back to her eventually. They'd been right, but she hadn't been sure she'd wanted him to. Barrett was intelligent, strong, and knew everything under the sun about warfare but apparently nothing about the self-incrimination inherent in coming home nights smelling of Jergens, a brand of soap neither his household nor the military used, and that's how she'd known he was cheating.

Now, after so many years had passed, Sheila thought those old wounds had healed, but the moment Marti walked over to greet them at the reunion and hugged Barrett a few beats longer than friendship warranted, her hurt and pain flared like a match on gasoline.

“You've been awfully quiet since we got back,” Barrett said, interrupting her musings. “You feeling okay?”

Staring out unseeingly at the landscape rolling past her window, she replied, “I'm fine. Just a little tired from the trip, I think.”

“Are you sure?”

This time she turned to face him. “Positive.”

“Doc Garland can take a look at you if you want.”

“I'm okay.” She had to admit, if she subtracted the affair, Barrett had been a good partner and provider. If only he loved her, even a tiny bit, she thought wistfully.

In response to her steady gaze, he asked softly, “What?”

Her answering smile was small, false. “Nothing.” And she turned back to her vigil at the window.

When they reached home, Barrett stood silently watching while she took off her coat and hung it in the closet by the door.

Her voice barely ruffled the quiet surrounding them. “Since Preston is spending the night at Amari's, I'm going to head on up. Think I'll sleep in the guest room. These hot flashes have been giving me fits for the past couple nights. No sense in you not getting any sleep either.”

Barrett studied his wife in an attempt to discern the truth behind the way she'd been acting lately. “I don't mind.”

“I know, but I do. Hopefully my body will level off now that we're home.”

Still assessing her, he nodded.

“Night, Barrett.”

“Good night.”

After she exited, Barrett went into the living room and turned on the TV.
SportsCenter
was just starting, but he muted the sound, sat back, and let his thoughts have their head. What was wrong with her? He knew she didn't really care for his unit reunions, but in the past she'd at least pretended interest. Not this time. The morning after the
first night's dinner, she'd rented a car and she and Preston drove over to Orlando and spent the rest of the three days at Disney World. To his surprise he'd missed her. Not even Marti's flamboyant presence had filled the void. He was so accustomed to Sheila's 24/7 presence that the idea of missing her was something he seldom experienced. Even when deployed he didn't miss her, but this past week in Florida he had, especially while sleeping alone in the hotel's bed.

So, what was going on with her? he wondered again. Granted, Marti had been a bit drunk that first evening during dinner and her overt flirting had made for some embarrassing and awkward moments, but Sheila had handled it like the classy lady she always was, or so it seemed. Thinking back on Marti, Barrett couldn't believe he'd ever been attracted to someone so aggressive, yet at the time of their affair he'd thought her to be all the things Sheila was not—funny, risqué, tough. Their year-long affair had been very discreet, so he was sure Sheila never suspected. Or had she? The thought that she might know more than he assumed made him sit up straight. Had she known? Decades-old guilt burned his gut like the fires of Dante's hell. Surely her moodiness wasn't tied to his old affair with Marti? Convincing himself that he was seeing insurgents where there were none, he settled down and used the remote to bring up the sound.

T
hat following morning, after breakfast and Preston's departure, Trent said to Amari, “I'm heading to the office to start moving in. You want to come along and give me a hand?”

“Sure, but I need to talk to Tamar first. Do you think she's at the rec center yet?”

Trent checked his watch. It was eight-thirty. “Maybe. You want me to drop you off there?”

“Yeah, then I'll meet you at your office.”

“Okay. You ready?” Trent picked up his keys. He had no idea why Amari needed to speak with Tamar but knew the boy was accustomed to handling his own business, so he didn't ask. He figured that if he needed to be informed, Tamar would let him know.

After stowing Amari's flashy blue bicycle in the bed of Trent's black truck, they headed to the center.

When they arrived, Trent eased the truck into a parking space. He could see Lily out on the outdoor track maintain
ing a slow, easy sprint and it took him back to high school, where they'd first met. He'd been on the boys' track team and she ran the hundred and the hurdles for the girls.

“You and Ms. Lily going to get married?”

Admiring her form, Trent shrugged in reply to Amari's question.

“You should.”

Trent smiled. “I'm almost afraid to ask, but I'll bite. Why?”

“'Cause she's hot.”

“Go find Tamar. I'll see you later.”

“She is.”

“Get out of my truck, young man.”

Amari was grinning. Trent too.

Amari watched Trent watching Lily gliding gracefully around the oval. “You should go say good morning to her.”

“You offering courting advice now?”

“Only if you think you need it.”

Trent's laughter filled the truck. “Out. Did you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

Still watching Lily, Trent told Amari, “Saying good morning is a good idea though.”

“See.”

Trent cut the engine and opened his door. As he stepped out, Amari got out too, and retrieved his bike. For a moment a pleased Amari watched his dad approach the track and saw Lily slow to a stop and greet Trent with a smile. Deciding his dad now had things under control, Amari parked his bike in the stand by the front door and went inside.

Because it was so early, the building's interior was hushed. Although Amari enjoyed the place when it was filled with kids and seniors and all the noise of everything going on, he liked the quiet times like these too. Since Tamar and her crew usually hung out in the kitchen, he headed there first.

She was right where she was supposed to be and seated at the table having coffee with her running buddy, Ms. Agnes, the mother of schoolteacher Marie Jefferson.

“Good morning, Amari,” the white-haired Agnes called out cheerily. “What brings you here so early? Have you had breakfast? There are some eggs and toast left.”

“Yes, ma'am, I have, but thanks. I came to talk to Tamar about something.”

Tamar looked at him over her cup. “Should I be afraid?” she asked.

“No, ma'am. Least I don't think so, but can we talk privately?”

She held his eyes for a long moment, then stood. “Sure. Agnes, I'll be back.”

“I'll be here.”

They went into the empty kiva-shaped theater that was one of the town's jewels. On Friday and Saturday nights, family movies were shown on the big floor-to-ceiling screen. They both took seats and Tamar asked, “So, what did you want to talk about?”

“What do I have to do to become a July?”

Her eyebrow raised.

Amari knew she could be tough and prickly, so he waited.

“You want to be a real July, as in being officially adopted and changing your name?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

There were only a few things that Amari was scared of in this world and one of them happened to be the tall, silver-haired lady eyeing him now.

“Have you talked to Trent?”

“No. Thought I'd see how you felt about the idea first. Trying to be respectful, you know.”

“Appreciate that.”

As she continued to impale him with her black hawklike stare, Amari tried not to squirm or more importantly shake in his seat.

“You sure about this?”

He nodded. “Very.”

For a moment she said nothing, then finally, “Okay. In the old days, before a young man could become a warrior he had to go on a Spirit Quest.”

That threw him. He swallowed. “Spirit Quest?”

“Yes.”

“Will I have to do that?”

She nodded. “We don't let just any old body be a July, Amari. The Spirit has to find favor with you, and so do I.”

He blinked.

“Can you raise a tent?”

He shook his head no.

“Own a hatchet?”

Another negative shake.

“Talk to Trent or Malachi. They'll help you.”

That made him feel better. “Can they go with me too?”

“No. Mal would spend the whole time drinking Pepsi and telling you about his boudoir bimbos, and Trent has a town to run.”

“But if nobody goes with me, how will I know what to do and where to go?”

“I didn't say you were going alone.”

“Then who—” And as soon as those two words came out of his mouth, he knew, and he really started to shake inside. “You?” he whispered.

She nodded and smiled. “Talk to Trent about the stuff you'll need.”

“So after the Spirit Quest will I be good?”

“Almost.”

“Almost?” he echoed, cried.

“You have to do something that benefits Henry Adams. A tribute to the Duster Ancestors has to be offered too.”

Deflated, Amari sighed. He knew from his school that the Dusters were the original Henry Adams settlers. They were actually called Exodusters because they came West during the Great Exodus of 1879. “What do I have to do to please them?”

“Something memorable that doesn't involve stealing cars and making the entire town go to court.”

“Ouch,” he replied.

She didn't smile. “It should be something folks will remember and that will be a benefit.”

When he looked confused, she added, “Come by the house and we'll look through the old pictures. Maybe they'll give you some inspiration for your project.”

“It's got to be a project—like a school thing?”

She stood.

Amari realized that becoming a July was going to be way more complicated than he'd imagined. “Okay, Tamar. I'll talk to Dad and the O.G. about the stuff I need for the quest. And I'll come see the pictures.” Walking out of the theater, Amari felt like he had the weight of the world on his eleven-year-old shoulders.

Tamar waited for him to disappear before allowing herself to smile. In her heart, she knew he'd make a perfect July because he'd been sent to them by the Spirit. For the past few years, she'd despaired over the idea of her branch of the July line coming to an end once she, Mal, and Trent were gone, but now they had Amari, and he was a true July. Like her Seminole outlaw ancestors, he was smart, resourceful, and a bit on the dangerous side. His commitment to family was shown last fall when he tried to help Crystal by stealing Mal's truck. His actions might have been misguided but his heart was in the right place. More importantly, in the nine months he'd been in town, Tamar had come to care very much for the young carjacker and already thought of him as blood. She wasn't sure how his quest and project would turn out, but she knew without question that it wouldn't be boring.

 

Standing in the offices of the mayor's suite, Trent stared around at all the stuff piled everywhere. He spotted lamps, end tables, and in between the stacks and stacks of shrink-wrapped boxes that held lord knew what, he counted at least two leather recliners, both brown. Over by the windows was a large desk encased in thick layers of protec
tive plastic. Beside it were three rolled-up rugs leaned up against the wall. Why did he need all this? The only reason he was mayor in the first place was that no one else wanted the job, and now running Henry Adams had become way more complicated. Being mayor presently involved having to deal with contracts, meetings, and budgets, when all he really wanted to do was come into the office for a couple of minutes each morning, open a few pieces of mail, and leave to go work on his cars.

Bernadine wasn't feeling that, however, and truthfully, neither was his adult side as it wisely pointed out that he was acting like a spoiled child. Mayors in towns all over America would love to be in the position Henry Adams found itself in, and who wouldn't with a take-no-prisoners fairy godmother like Bernadine sprinkling gold dust around. Because of her vision and big heart, Henry Adams no longer teetered on the precipice of extinction. What the Dusters began in 1879 remained alive and kicking due to her largesse, and in spite of his selfish protestations, he owed it to those original dreamers to ensure that the legacy lived on.

With that in mind, Trent shook off his bad mood and tackled the shrink-wrap with the blade of the box cutter in his hand.

It took him a good little while to free everything. A mountain of discarded shrink-wrap and plastic stood in a pile by the door. He was working on the boxes in the inner office when he heard, “Hey, Dad. You in here?”

Trent made his way back to the outer office just in time to see Amari battling the plastic Everest and slowly kicking
his way through the mess like the Incredible Hulk. Trent smiled and wondered if Amari knew just how much fun it was for Trent to have him in his life. “Did you talk to Tamar?”

“Yep,” he said before going quiet and looking around at the desk and chairs, loveseats, coffee tables and lamps. “I thought this was going to be your office. Looks more like Ms. Bernadine's living room.”

“I know. The ladies who run this place went a little overboard, I'm thinking.”

“I'm thinking you're right. Looks like all nice stuff, but they probably could have saved a whole lot of money just by going to Wal-Mart.”

“I heard that,” Bernadine called with a laugh from the threshold.

An embarrassed Amari dropped his head. “Sorry.”

A smiling Trent came to his son's defense “He is right, Bernadine. This is a lot. Didn't you take a hit from the economy like everybody else?”

“Sure, but not so much that I have to furnish your place with stuff from the dollar store. If it's any consolation, Lily did the ordering, and girlfriend can squeeze a dollar until it screams, so I know she got everything at a good price.”

That made Trent feel a bit better, and as he assessed the furniture with an engineer's eye, he had to admit, Lily had gotten some nice-looking pieces. From the lamps to the love seats to the desk, the lines of the designs were modern and clean. They flowed in a masculine way, strong yet not overpowering. “She has a good eye.”

“Glad you approve,” Lily said, walking into the office.

“I do.” Approved of her as well, but he kept that to himself.

“I wasn't going to give you any excuse to stay away from this place, Trenton July. If you like it, you'll use it. I know you.”

“Guilty as charged.” Trent could see Amari grinning, so to give him something to do before he pointed out for the five hundredth time how hot Lily was, he said, “Amari, take the shrink-wrap and put it in the bed of my truck. I'll haul it to the dump later on.”

“Sure, Dad.”

“I'll help,” Bernadine offered. “You two get started on setting up the place.”

Lily looked critically at her boss's attire. She was wearing a pair of twelve-hundred-dollar, navy blue Jimmy Choos on her feet. Her trim size sixteen body was decked out in an original Dior designer suit, also navy. On her wrists there was enough gold to have her own hour-long show on QVC. “You aren't dressed for hauling plastic, Bernadine Brown.”

Bernadine eyed her for a moment. “Do you want some time alone with the man or not, Lily Fontaine?”

Lily had the decency to look embarrassed.

Bernadine said, “I thought so. Let's go, Amari, so these lovebirds can get their bill and coo on.”

“Their bill and what?”

“Just grab an armful and come on.”

“Billincoo. What the he—” He froze at the disapproving look Trent shot his way. One of the first things Amari learned when he first came to town was no cussing. “I
meant, what the
heck
is billincoo? Can't be an old-school R&B group, can it?”

Rolling her eyes, Bernadine told him, “No.” Filling her arms with shrink-wrap, she gently pushed the still questioning Amari out the door.

“He is something,” Lily said once she and Trent were alone.

Trent hooked his arms around her waist and looked down into her smiling face. “So are you.”

Knowing they had only a couple of minutes before Bernadine and the Question Box returned, he leaned down and kissed her gently.

Lily returned the kiss, and when it ended she felt like a puddle of melted ice cream. “We need to go on a date. Preferably one inside a hotel room.”

Grinning, he leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yep.”

He chuckled. “Okay. I'll see what I can do.”

Once all the plastic and shrink-wrap was removed, Bernadine, Lily, and Amari helped Trent set up the furniture. When most of that was accomplished, the women went back to their offices, leaving Trent and Amari alone to finish the rest.

“Can I talk to you about something, Dad?”

“Sure, shoot.”

“The reason I wanted to see Tamar was to get her okay for me to ask you if I could be a real July.”

Trent looked up from the prompts on the screen of his laptop that was loading software for his new printer and
studied the boy for a long, silent moment before asking quietly, “You really want to be my son?”

“I do.”

“I'm honored, Amari, because I want you to be my son too.”

“Money!”