Second Time Sweeter

by Beverly Jenkins

  After school, Amari was in the kitchen with his mom. It was her turn to cook and he was watching her make jambalaya, one of his faves.

  “How’d school go?” she asked.

  “It was kind of fun until lunch.”

  She paused while stirring the roux. “What happened at lunch?”

  He told her about Zoey.

  She blew out a breath. “That poor baby. Did she say what the dream was about?”

  “Just that Ms. Stockton, or whatever her real name is, was in it.”

  She shook her head. “She finally stops dreaming about those rats that attacked her when she was little, and now this. It’s a wonder we all aren’t having nightmares after what happened, though. I’ll let Roni and Reg know.”

  “Mom, I didn’t tell you so you could snitch.”

  She gave him a look. “They should know. If you had something weighing on you, Dad and I would want to know.”

  “I guess.”

  “Her parents won’t give you up. Promise.”

  Amari hoped she was right. Having Zoey, aka Ms. Miami, go off on him was the last thing he wanted. “Is the FBI going to be done in time for your reunion?”

  “Hope so. They’re supposed to be through tomorrow afternoon.”

  Amari was pleased by the news. He and Brain were hooking up videos for the gathering and needed to have access to the rec to set things up. Turning his attention back to the jambalaya prep, he watched her put the chopped onions in the silky brown roux and stir them around. The great smell that filled the kitchen made him groan with pleasure. Smiling at his reaction, Lily added the rest of the ingredients—the rice, the andouille sausage, and the chicken broth. Once it started boiling, she put a lid on the pot and turned down the heat.

  “We’ll be able to eat in an hour or so.”

  “Yay!”

  She put the cutting board in the sink to wash. “How are you feeling about what happened Friday night? Any worries, nightmares?”

  “No nightmares, but yeah, concerned. Suppose the people who hired Ms. Stockton do send somebody else. What do we do?”

  “Rely on your dad, the colonel, and the sheriff to keep us safe.”

  “Are they strapped?”

  She paused. “As in armed?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No.”

  “If somebody starts shooting at us, we’re going to need to shoot back, don’t you think? By the time the sheriff gets here, people could be dead.”

  “This isn’t Detroit, Amari.”

  “Bullets don’t care what a place is called, Mom. They just do their job.”

  She assessed him silently for a long moment, then agreed. “You’re right, and I apologize for my flippant dis of your hometown.”

  “That’s okay. Detroiters are tough. Being dissed goes in one ear and out the other. We’re used to it.”

  “Have I told you lately how lucky I am to have you as a son?”

  Embarrassment heated his cheeks and his heart filled up. “You’re pretty dope too, Mom.”

  She inclined her head. “Pretty dope is high praise, so thanks.”

  His dad came in a few minutes later along with Devon, who’d been over at Zoey’s doing band stuff. As they ate dinner, Devon said, “Mom, did Amari tell you about Zoey?”

  “He did.”

  Seeing the confusion on his dad’s face, Amari told him the story, adding, “She wouldn’t tell us what the dream was about.”

  Devon said, “She told me and Wyatt at practice. She said she dreamed she was under the highway in Miami and everybody in town was on the ground shot and dead.”

  Amari felt bad for her.

  Their mom said, “That sounds really scary.”

  Devon nodded.

  Amari said, “Everybody in town should be carrying in case those people send somebody else.”

  His dad asked, “Carrying . . . guns?”

  Amari nodded.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, son.”

  “Then how are we going to protect ourselves?”

  “I thought you didn’t like guns.”

  “I don’t. This isn’t shooting for fun, but for protection.”

  His dad shared a look with his mom. She gave him a tiny shrug.

  Devon said, “Don’t worry, Amari. Dad and I will protect you and Mom.”

  Amari narrowed his eyes. “I don’t need you protecting me, Devon, but thanks.”

  Devon said, “Aren’t you scared of guns? Isn’t that why you don’t go hunting with me and Dad and OG?”

  “No, I just don’t like guns.”

  “I think you’re scared,” Devon tossed back, looking smug.

  Dad said, “That’s enough, Devon.”

  But Devon was still smiling, so Amari asked, “Have you ever seen anybody get their head blown off, Devon?”

  Devon looked his way and froze.

  “I have. I was seven. The people in the foster home where I was living got into a fight and they started shooting. Ever seen brains splattered on a wall, Dev? Ever seen a person with no face? Or eyes?”

  Devon looked on the verge of throwing up and Amari took perverse pleasure in the reaction. “Don’t ever come at me again about what you think I’m scared of because you don’t have a clue!” He turned to his dad. “May I be excused?”

  “Sure, son.”

  His mom said softly, “Take your plate, babe.”

  He gave her a nod, picked up his plate, and climbed the stairs to his room.

  After finishing his dinner and sending Brain a text about needing bail money because he planned to kill Devon, there was a knock on his door. “Come in.”

  He expected it to be one of his parents, or both. Instead, it was Devon. “What do you want?”

  “I just came to say I was sorry.”

  “Mom and Dad tell you to?”

  He shook his head. “No. I asked them if they thought it was a good idea and they said yeah.”

  “Okay. You said it. Bye.” Amari was not in the mood.

  “You’re supposed to say you forgive me.”

  “But I don’t, so beat it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re a smug jerk, Devon, and I’m done with you today. Tomorrow doesn’t look any better.”

  Devon had the nerve to look hurt.

  “Oh, now you want to act all sad? Stop saying dumb shit, then. You get off on stomping people’s feelings, especially mine, and I’m done. From now on, every time it happens I’m calling you out, and I don’t care where we are or who we’re with. Got it?”

  Devon nodded.

  “Good. Bye.”

  “But—”

  “Get away from my door!”

  Devon left.

  Amari glared at the now empty space.

  His dad appeared. “Heard you yelling.”

  “We should’ve traded him for a draft pick when we had the chance.”

  His dad smiled. “Can we talk?”

  “As long as it doesn’t include me being told to be nice to the butt-head, sure.”

  Trent came in. “Devon earned being told off. Just wanted to let you know that Mom and I aren’t mad at you about what happened.”

  Amari appreciated it, but it didn’t matter if they were. He kept that to himself of course.

  “Son, you never said anything about seeing someone murdered.”

  “Yeah. Another highlight from the wacky world of foster care.” It had taken him years to rid himself of the awful memory. It was still with him, but no longer showed up every time he closed his eyes.

  “What happened after?”

  “Police came, arrested everybody, and I was moved to a new place—with the lady crackhead.”

  Trent sighed. “You ever talked to anyone about all this stuff, son?”

  “No.”

  “You might want to talk to Reverend Paula about some of it.”

  “Maybe. Being here in Henry Adams helped me put a lot of it behind me. Never thought I’d have a real family with
love and stuff, you know? It’s like my life back then was just a bad dream, so I don’t need Devon in my face about who I am.”

  “No, you don’t. He has his own issues.”

  “Yeah, he does. Told him I’m calling him out on them, too. No matter where, no matter when. If you and Mom think that’s wrong, I’ll take my punishment. I’m tired of him.”

  “A bit of brotherly tough love may be what he needs, occasionally.”

  “More like twenty-four/seven/three hundred and sixty-five. Me trying to be kind and not right doesn’t mean anything to him. Although he did give Zoey some good advice at lunch.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That if her dream came back tonight, she should let her parents know.”

  “That is good advice.”

  “He can be a good kid, but he likes thinking he’s lead dog and he’s not. I’m so done with him.”

  “Your mom and I talked to him when you left the table. He seems remorseful, Amari.”

  “Seeming and the truth aren’t the same. I know I’m not perfect, but I don’t try and hurt people on purpose.”

  “Your brother still has a lot of growing up to do. Your mom and I aren’t giving up on him and we hope you won’t, either.”

  “I never had a brother; I want us to be buds, but he’s got to start thinking about what comes out of his mouth before it does.”

  His dad appeared to agree, and Amari was glad he’d come up to check on him. Whenever things sucked, his parents always made him feel better.

  Trent stood. “I don’t want you to worry about the gun thing, though. Kyle Dalton says there’s very little chance we’ll have anyone riding down on the town and shooting up the place. And if they do, there are more than enough weapons here to keep us all safe.”

  “This is the same FBI that thought the Millers were going to be safe, right?”

  Trent dropped his head and smiled.

  Amari did, too. “I’m going to need you to do like Tamar and put a weapon in the gun box in your truck. Okay?”

  His dad studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”

  “Thank you.” Because something was coming. Amari could feel it.

  The next morning, Bernadine was in her office when Kyle Dalton knocked on the frame of her open door.

  “Morning, Kyle. Hopefully you’re here to tell me your people are done.”

  “We are. The school and rec center are yours to use again. We also cleared the Millers’ personal effects out of their apartment.”

  “Good. Anything else?”

  “Just another apology. I’m sorry this whole thing went sideways.”

  “I appreciate that. Hopefully, wherever the Millers wind up, they’ll be okay.”

  “And so you’ll know, Sam did make it. Can’t tell you where they are—”

  She threw up her hands. “I don’t want to know anything else. That he pulled through is enough.”

  “You’ll, of course, keep that under your hat.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now, to work on getting my old man to speak to me again.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “Thanks, Bernadine. I’ll see you.”

  “Bye, Kyle.”

  Sam Miller had survived. That was good news, but the question remained, would the people who wanted him dead continue to stalk him? Bernadine hoped he and Brenda weren’t betrayed again, and had the opportunity to live out the rest of their lives in peace. She also hoped the shooter got her just deserts. Getting herself hired as a custodian to carry out her evil plan was like something out of a Hollywood movie. Bernadine still found the whole episode incredible. Now, with all that behind them, the people of Henry Adams could get back to the business of living.

  Trent appeared in her door. “Hey.”

  “Morning.”

  “Did Kyle stop by?”

  “Yes. He said they’re done.”

  “Yes. They took the seat Sam was sitting in as evidence. I’ll have Lily order a replacement. We’ll have to tear out the tiles in that section of floor too, because of all the blood.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll start looking for another custodian and be smarter about checking the references.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up about that, Trent. You did what you were supposed to do. It’s the sheriff’s office that should be ashamed; they did the background check.”

  “I know. Still feel bad, though.”

  “Well, don’t. Anything else?”

  “No. Just want us to get back to normal.”

  “Amen.”

  After his exit, she sent Rocky a text to make sure they were still on to talk about the new restaurant. Because they both wanted more input, it was to be a topic of discussion at the Ladies Auxiliary gathering that evening at Tamar’s. Tina would be joining them but was presently at Bernadine’s home calling club members about potential new owners for the Millers’ coffee shop. Receiving an affirmative reply from Rocky, Bernadine looked up to see Mal in the doorway. She steeled her heart. “Morning.”

  “Hey. Just on my way to Lily’s office to turn in the payroll paperwork for the custodian job. Marie gave me the green light. Thought I’d stop by and see how you are.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I miss you, girl.”

  “I miss you, too,” she said, keeping her tone nonchalant. “Things didn’t work out, though, so, we move on.”

  “If I could go back—”

  She didn’t want to hear it. “Lily’s probably waiting on that paperwork.” The interruption tightened his jaw, but her shredded emotions took precedence. “Have a good day, Mal.”

  They viewed each other over a gulf filled with loss and regret. She felt it and supposed he did as well.

  He finally replied: “You, too.”

  Alone again, she printed out the info she wanted to share during the restaurant discussion. Paula’s sermon brushed the edges of her mind, but she refused to second-guess sending Mal on his way.

  That evening, Bernadine and Tina arrived at Tamar’s for the Ladies Auxiliary meeting and were greeted warmly by the members already there: Lily; Gemma; Genevieve, Marie, Anna Ruiz, Luis’s mother-in-law; and, of course, Tamar.

  “Did you bring the wine?” Lily asked Bernadine. “You know you can’t come in without it.”

  A smiling Bernadine handed over the two bottles from her cellar, and Lily went to the kitchen for a corkscrew.

  Next through the door were Rocky, Sheila, and Reverend Paula, all bearing trays of snacks from the Dog. A few minutes later songstress Roni Garland arrived much to everyone’s surprise and delight. Accompanying her was her producer, the always-leather-clad Irishwoman Cassie Sullivan, aunt of Roni’s adopted daughter, Zoey.

  “Didn’t expect to see you,” Bernadine said to them. “I thought you were recording?”

  “We are,” Roni replied. “Cass and I needed a break.”

  Cass said, “Besides, I love hanging out with you ladies.”

  “And we love having you with us,” Bernadine told her. As the noise level rose, along with the laughter, Bernadine introduced Cass to Tina.

  “Roni said you’ll be opening a bed-and-breakfast?” Cass asked Tina.

  Bernadine left them to chat while she moved to the other side of the room, where Gen and Marie were holding court about their Alaska trip. She’d never been to Alaska. The pics Gen had on her phone showing the mountains and beauty cemented the idea of going. She thought it would’ve been a perfect getaway for her and Mal, but not now. The only thing she and Mal were good for was keeping their distance from each other.

  Reverend Paula pulled her aside. “Anything on the Millers?”

  “No, and we won’t be hearing anything, unfortunately.” Bernadine didn’t like lying, especially to a woman of the cloth. Although she knew Paula could keep a confidence, secrets had a way of becoming news in Henry Adams and she didn’t want to risk word getting out that might jeopardize the safety of the Millers and the people in to
wn. The last thing they needed were rumors surrounding Sam Miller’s fate and having more bad people show up demanding to know the truth.

  Sheila Payne was the town’s VP for special events and the auxiliary president. Once the opening chitchat died down, she opened the meeting. “Okay, ladies, we need to narrow down our choice for the family outing. The Dads are meeting at Lily’s house and I told them I’d text them our decision.” The auxiliary, in conjunction with Dads Inc., was planning an all-family outing.

  Sheila continued, “We have Anna’s suggestion of the Costa Rica rain forest and my museum trip to New York City.”

  Gen said, “Can I add an Alaskan cruise?”

  Laughing groans were heard and Tamar said, “Gen, it took us weeks to whittle it down to just these two and now you want to add another choice at the last minute?”

  Gen hung her head in mock shame. “Okay, sorry. Scratch that. We just had such a great time there. I think the kids would love it.”

  Roni said, “I think they would too, but how about we save Alaska for maybe next time? I’d definitely be open to going.”

  Lots of verbal support followed that.

  Rocky said, “I’m more inclined to vote for the rain forest. I think it would be more fun for the kids.”

  “I agree,” Gemma said.

  Sheila’s disappointment was plain. She’d been beating the drum for the museums. Seeing her reaction, Marie offered, “How about we do the museums as an auxiliary trip? That way we won’t have to be concerned about whether the kids are having fun or not.”

  Tamar said, “I like that. And once we’re done in New York, I want us to go to DC so we can tour the new African American museum.”

  Bernadine thought that was an excellent plan. Like every other person in the room, she’d been sending the museum money for years to help make the dream of the place become a reality, and she was really looking forward to touring the outstanding exhibits. She and Mal had planned to visit. She realized it was the second time she’d brought him up to herself that evening. Chastising herself, she turned her attention back to the vote.

  Gen said, “And while we’re in DC, we have to do the nighttime double-decker tour of the monuments. I took it when I visited, and it’s amazing.”

  Sheila said, “Okay, let’s vote. All in favor of suggesting Costa Rica to the Dads, say aye.”

  Support rang out.