A Second Helping

by Beverly Jenkins

  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.

  CHAPTER 4

  That 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 maintaining 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, a
nd 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 protective 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 fur
niture. 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!”

  Trent had no idea that adding an eleven-year-old car thief to one’s world could make life so sweet. “So what did Tamar say?”

  “A bunch of stuff about a Spirit Quest. Do you have a hatchet?”

  “Yep. Tent too.”

  “Good,” he replied with relief in his voice. “Can you show me how to put up the tent?”

  “Yes.” Trent was still stuck on this remarkable young man wanting to be his son. “Did she say when you were going to do this?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. We can ask her. She taking you?”

  “Uh huh. She said you had a town to run and that the O.G. would spend the whole time talking about the honeys, so she’d go with me instead.”

  Trent knew that he was busy, but he would’ve taken the time off to do the quest. In fact, by all rights he should have been the one, but since she’d already staked her claim, he decided to let it go; he’d have a lifetime to bond with Amari, and besides, he loved Tamar too much to spend even a moment being mad at her. She was in the winter of her life and there was no telling how much longer she would be with them before leaving this plane to join the Ancestors.

  “So you really want to be my son, even though I’m not going to let you get away with stuff like stealing cars or running game?”

  That last part made Amari think back to the unique punishment he’d earned last summer for tricking Ms. Agnes into buying him and Preston adult-rated video games. “Yes.”