A Forever Kind of Love (Kimani Romance)

by Rochon, Farrah

  “So what do we do with this?” Clementine Washington asked.

  Corey motioned for Mya to take center stage. She handed her plate of chips to Aunt Mo and dusted her fingers on the back of her pants as she stood before the ladies.

  “We think that this is the kind of news that can completely change Gauthier.”

  “We don’t want to change Gauthier,” Margery piped in. “We like this town just fine.”

  “No, no,” Mya said. “I didn’t mean changing the town, but changing the way people see it. If it turns out that the Gauthier Law Firm was actually a part of the Underground Railroad and the historical society gives distinction to the town, we can make Gauthier a tourist destination. Schools would take field trips here. We can market it as a day trip for history buffs visiting New Orleans. And the shops on Main Street and the rest of the town’s economy would benefit. You wouldn’t change anything about Gauthier. In fact, you would make the town more like it used to be.”

  “And we think the 175th-year celebration is the perfect platform to kick this off,” Corey said.

  “What about that new store?” Barbara Cannon looked pointedly at Corey. “Are you still planning to become an investor?”

  “No,” Corey quickly said. “After what we uncovered today, I think we should keep the landscape of Main Street as close to its original form as possible. Adding a national chain store would take away from that.”

  “That’s what we tried to tell you,” Claudette said.

  With a conciliatory grin, Corey put his hands up. “Yes, you all did. You win.”

  “Actually, Gauthier wins,” Mya interjected.

  Corey’s eyes connected with hers and they shared a soft, private smile.

  Or, maybe it wasn’t so private. When Mya finally managed to tear her eyes from his, she noticed the sly smirks and knowing looks around the room. Aunt Maureen’s brows arched in amused inquiry.

  Mya cleared her throat, and hoped to God the blush warming her face wasn’t evident.

  “As I was saying,” she began, “this link between Gauthier and the Underground Railroad truly is a game-changer. If we can get the people in town to rally behind this cleanup day, we can present Gauthier’s best face to the preservation society.”

  “Are you planning to stay and see this through?” her grandmother asked.

  Mya looked over at her, then at the other faces that stared back at her.

  “That’s a good question,” Corey said. “Are you?”

  She couldn’t feel more in the spotlight if one were shining down on her head. Mya looked from her grandmother to Corey to Aunt Mo, who was sitting on the sofa with a challenging smirk on her lips.

  The walls closed in just a bit more, but Mya reminded herself that she always had a way out. All it would take was a quick call to an airline. The celebration was in three weeks. Twenty-one days. She could stick it out for twenty-one days.

  “I’m in,” she said.

  But in twenty-one days, she would pack her bag and head back to New York.

  * * *

  Corey pulled his Escalade into a slanted slot on Main Street, a few yards away from the front door of Matthew Gauthier’s law office. He’d had to cancel practice this afternoon while landscapers resodded the north end of the baseball field, but he wasn’t complaining. When Mya called to ask if he was up to poking around the building that housed Gauthier Law Firm, he’d left the equipment room and headed straight here.

  He spotted Maureen Dubois’s dark blue sedan parked a few spaces down and couldn’t hold back his grin. He’d been smiling like a damn fool ever since Mya announced to the entire revitalization committee that she would remain in Gauthier until the celebration.

  No, that was a lie. He’d been smiling inside ever since he’d taken her into his arms and kissed them both breathless in the state library.

  God, her mouth was sweet. Like a ripe, juicy peach on a hot summer day. It’s how she’d earned her nickname. Now that he’d tasted her again, Corey didn’t know how he was going to work alongside her and not seek out those decadent lips every five minutes.

  He stepped inside the law office and found Mya engaged in an animated conversation with the receptionist. They both turned when he came upon them.

  “Corey, did you know Carmen and Scotty Mitchell were married?” Mya asked, pointing to their former classmate Carmen Manheim, now Mitchell. Corey couldn’t remember for certain, but he was sure Carmen had been voted most likely to get arrested...and throw a party in jail. The Manheim house had been known for its wild parties.

  Corey nodded. “Their daughter, Malika, is in my ninth-grade American history class.”

  “And she hates it,” Carmen laughed. “It’s no reflection on you,” she told Corey. “She hates all of her classes. All she wants to do is hang out with her friends. My mama warned me that I’d have a child who gave me as much problems as I gave her.”

  “She’s a good student,” Corey said. “If only she would shut up for more than a minute.”

  “Yep, just like her mom.” Mya laughed.

  Carmen treated her to an obscene hand gesture, and they both cracked up.

  Corey nodded toward the closed door with a brass nameplate with Matthew Gauthier, Esq. engraved on it. “He knows we’re coming, right?”

  “He’s on a call right now, but it should be finishing up in a few minutes. This is all so exciting.” Carmen beamed. “Who knew this old building had so much history?”

  “It’s fascinating,” Mya interjected, her enthusiasm coming through her voice. “I was up all night reading about the original owners, Micah and Nicollette Gauthier. They endangered their family for years by hiding runaway slaves here. I can’t imagine.”

  “I wonder if Matthew knows this.”

  As if his receptionist had called him forth, the door opened and Matthew Gauthier, dressed in shirtsleeves and a tie, walked out carrying a briefcase. He greeted Mya with a kiss on her cheek and clasped Corey’s palm in a firm shake.

  “I hear we’re sitting on some history in my grandfather’s old office,” he said.

  “You’re okay with us checking this place out, right?” Corey asked.

  Matthew shrugged. “Not sure what you’re looking for, but knock yourselves out.”

  “We heard that many of the stops on the Underground Railroad had secret hideaways where they stored the slaves,” Mya said. “We were hoping you had run across some little nook, but since you said you hadn’t, we just want to poke around a little.”

  Matthew swept his arm out in a welcoming gesture. “Have at it.” He turned to Carmen. “I’m meeting Mr. Sellers at Emile’s. I should be back before you close up at five, but if not, just leave the door unlocked.”

  “Unbelievable,” Mya said. They all turned to her. “That you would just leave your office unlocked, even for a minute,” she elaborated.

  “One of the advantages of small-town life,” Corey teased.

  Carmen hung a Be Right Back sign on a peg on the wall above her desk and took them on a tour of the building. They looked around Matthew’s office, with its view of the wooden waterwheel in Heritage Park, then in the conference room and two smaller, unoccupied offices.

  “The back room is mainly storage. Nothing confidential—those are locked away upstairs. Mr. Gauthier—Leroy—just hated to throw anything away,” Carmen said as she led them into a cavernous room packed with neatly stacked banker boxes.

  “Does Matthew realize the historical society may have to move all of these out of the way while they inspect the building?” Corey asked.

  She waved him off. “Matthew won’t care. He’s so much more laid-back than his dad.”

  “Well, I don’t want to disrupt all of this,” Mya said.

  “Just give me a heads-up when you hear back from the folks who will be ins
pecting,” Carmen said.

  Mya and Corey left the law practice and headed west on Main.

  “What happened to Armant’s Antiques Shop?” Mya asked, pointing to the only abandoned building on Main Street.

  “It was closed before I moved back. From what I heard, after Mr. and Mrs. Armant both died, their son Elvin had a big garage sale where he sold everything for a dollar each.”

  “Yeah, from what I remember of Elvin, I can’t really see him selling antiques,” Mya said. “It’s sad, though. I used to love looking around their shop. There was this gorgeous necklace.”

  “The one with the blue-and-green stones,” Corey said.

  She turned to him, her eyes widened in amazement. “You remember that sapphire-and-emerald necklace?”

  “How many times did you drag me in there to look at it?” he asked.

  A sheepish grin curled up the edges of her lips. It took everything within him not to lean over and kiss that smile. “Probably dozens,” she said. “It was just so beautiful. Like something that would belong to the queen of England. God, I hope Elvin did not sell that necklace for a dollar. I would hunt him down and kill him.”

  “I’m sure he got top dollar for it,” Corey laughed.

  They reached the vine-covered arch that marked the entrance to Heritage Park. The square divided Main Street’s east and west sections. Back when he was growing up, this park was where most families spent their Saturday afternoons. The smell of charcoal saturated the air, and sounds of children playing on the swings and merry-go-round could be heard blocks away.

  “I always loved this park,” Corey commented.

  “I know.” Mya sighed. She stood just inside the entrance and panned the length of the park from east to west. “Does the waterwheel still work?”

  “I think it does,” Corey said. “They stopped running it because of utility costs. I don’t think they turn on the lights over the arbor at night either,” he said.

  She looked up at him with sad eyes. “But it’s so pretty when it’s all lit up.”

  “Maybe after the cleanup day we can convince the parish council to light up the arbor again,” he said.

  “Speaking of the cleanup day, you wouldn’t believe how many people have been calling the house to volunteer. I think the turnout is going to be better than anyone expected.”

  “You’d better watch it. It almost sounds as if you care what happens to this place.” The hurt in her eyes made Corey regret he’d spoken. “I’m sorry,” he offered.

  “You make me sound heartless,” she murmured. She wrapped her arms around her upper body as they walked over to the waterwheel. “I never said I didn’t care about Gauthier. I just...wanted out.”

  He leaned a hip against the wooden railing of the log fence surrounding the waterwheel.

  “Why?” Corey asked. “I never understood that about you. You hated your mother because she hightailed it out of Gauthier, yet you did the same thing as soon as you could.”

  “It’s not the same,” Mya argued.

  “No, you didn’t leave a baby for someone else to raise,” Corey said, “but you still left. Why?”

  She was silent for a long time. So long that Corey wasn’t sure she’d answer. Finally, she looked up at him and said, “I didn’t want to get trapped.” She shook her head. “I was just so afraid of getting stuck here and never getting the chance to experience life.”

  She turned and leaned against the railing, gripping the thick wooden beam. “I know there are dozens of things to love about living in a small town like Gauthier, but there is just so much out there, Corey. There are people who have spent their entire lives here without ever going anywhere else. That is insane.”

  “But it doesn’t have to be one or the other,” Corey said. He pointed back toward the law office. “Go in there and ask Carmen about the trip she and Scotty just took to New Zealand. Ask your grandmother about the cruise some of the ladies from her church are taking to the Bahamas.” The swift flash of surprise on her face spoke volumes. “There’s not an invisible wall keeping people trapped in Gauthier, Mya. You don’t have to completely shut yourself off from this place.” Corey paused, capturing her chin between his fingers and lifting her head as he added, “Or the people here who care about you.”

  She stared into his eyes, her grip on the beam so tight he knew it would leave indentations in her skin.

  His gaze locked on her lips. He lowered his head and took her mouth in a slow-moving kiss. To his disappointment, she didn’t let this one go on for nearly as long as their kiss in the library. Mya brought a hand to his jaw and moved his face away from hers.

  “You’ve got to stop doing that,” she said.

  “But it’s so much fun,” Corey countered.

  The stern look she shot his way was hampered by the laughter crinkling the corners of her eyes.

  Her gaze roamed around the park again. “So, you think your baseball team can handle sprucing this place up? We’re going to need to paint those park benches and prune a lot of the shrubbery.”

  “I think they can handle it,” he said. “They’re all going to be here early Saturday morning, with their gloves, shovels and trash bags.”

  “And their coach?” she asked.

  The corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile. “Their coach will be leading the way.”

  “Hmm... I think their coach deserves a special reward for all his hard work. I may have to sweet-talk Aunt Mo into making her special oatmeal-raisin cookies you used to love so much.”

  “I’ve got a better idea,” he said. “How about you let their coach take you to dinner?” Corey’s chest constricted as he waited for her answer. “Come on, Mya,” he urged when he saw the indecision in her eyes. He took her fingers and brought them to his lips, pressing one single, gentle kiss to her soft skin. “Let me take you to dinner.”

  An interminable stretch of time passed before she finally nodded.

  “I think I’d like that.”

  Chapter 8

  Mya slathered sunscreen on her arms, legs and face, then pulled her grandfather’s tattered New Orleans Saints sun visor low on her forehead.

  “Aunt Mo, are you almost done?” she called.

  “In a minute,” Maureen hollered.

  Mya left the hall bathroom and headed for the front of the house. Her grandmother was waiting at the door, a straw hat with a wide brim atop her head.

  “Well, it looks as if you’re ready.” Mya tugged on the green ribbon dangling from the hat.

  “I sure am.” Her grandmother hefted her purse over her shoulder. “Even though I’m only allowed to hand out bottles of water.”

  “With the way that sun is shining, you’ll be the most popular person on Main Street.” Mya laughed.

  “Okay, let’s get to it,” Maureen said as she entered the room wearing a paint-stained chambray shirt and a pair of jean cutoffs Mya was sure were older than she was.

  They piled into the car and headed toward downtown Gauthier. As they edged closer to Main Street, Mya looked at the cars that lined both sides of Pecan Drive.

  “Do you think all of these are volunteers?” she asked, but neither her grandmother nor Aunt Mo needed to answer. The proof revealed itself as soon as they crossed over Shoal Creek Lane. Volunteers cluttered the sidewalks, with rakes and shovels and buckets in hand.

  “Oh, my God,” Grandma breathed from the passenger seat.

  “Don’t cry,” Mya told her, even though her throat instantly tightened at the show of support from the residents of Gauthier. She was suddenly overcome with pride. It felt strange to have such strong feelings for a place she’d written off for so many years, but how could she not feel a kinship with this town and its people?

  “This is amazing,” Mya said on an awe-filled breath.

  Sh
e drove the full length of Main Street. The slanted parking spots in front of the buildings had been cordoned off by yellow caution tape, so she dropped her grandmother and Aunt Mo in front of Claudette’s Beauty Parlor and drove down to Clark Street to park. She grabbed the pair of gloves she’d taken from her grandfather’s gardening shed, along with a red-and-blue paisley scarf that she tucked into her back pocket.

  Mya spotted Corey just outside of the Gauthier Pharmacy and Feed Store. He held a clipboard in one hand and a bullhorn in the other and looked every bit the high school coach. He called out a string of last names and gave those players instructions to wash the windows of Mike’s Barbershop. The next set was ordered to add a fresh coat of paint to the porch railing surrounding Gauthier Savings and Loan, and yet another group of players was assigned to sand the outdoor deck of Emile’s Restaurant.

  Mya sidled up to Corey and tapped him on the shoulder.

  He turned with the bullhorn to his mouth, primed to bellow out more instructions. He dropped it and smiled at her.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Good morning to you. I see you already have things running like a well-oiled machine. How long have you been out here?”

  “Since about six. I know we told volunteers to be here at eight, but I wanted to make sure everything was in place so people could get to work as soon as they arrived. I had Manny rope off the entire street because a buddy of mine has an old paint striper and agreed to come over and restripe the parking spots.” He pointed across the street. “The Ladies’ Auxiliary has already started pruning the shrubs in Heritage Park, and the football booster club is working on the old antiques store.”

  Mya surveyed the bevy of activity surrounding her. “I’m just surprised at how many people are willing to give up their Saturday morning to help out.”

  “I’m not,” Corey said. “People love this town.”

  “Well, I’m proud of them all the same.”

  “You should be proud that you played such a key role in getting this done.”

  She looked over at him and smiled, her breath hitching a little at how breathtakingly gorgeous he was in his shades.