by Pat Simmons
“Yeah, she seemed to know I was your Adam too.” Kidd wasn’t ready to admit it, but it seemed like her last tale was meant to put the fear of God in him.
“Come on, we’d better get back inside.”
Kidd’s iPhone buzzed seconds after he walked into his office, indicating he had received a text. Unclipping it from its holster, he read the message: Dinner tonight for two. Bring Eva with you. Love, Cheney Jamieson. FYI, Eva has been texted too, in case you even think about declining.
A bittersweet smile appeared on his face. Eva enjoyed spending time with Cheney as much as Cheney and Hallison raved about her. However, there was no way he thought she was going to be in a mood for socializing. He replied: Let’s reschedule. We had a resident pass away and Eva’s taking it hard. I’ll let her pick another time.
Cheney texted back: Oh, I’m sorry, Kidd. I’ll be praying for my sister and the resident’s family. Tell her to call me if she wants to talk.
That Kidd wouldn’t do. If Eva needed someone to talk to, she had two options—him or Jesus.
Mrs. Valentine’s funeral was held a few days later at a little church called The Last Days. It was packed. More coworkers attended than either Kidd or Eva would have imagined, considering how much she irritated everyone with her continuous chatter.
The pastor, with a long biblical name, performed the eulogy in less than ten minutes. He closed with: “God gave her a gift of proclaiming His Word in parables, and she performed her task until her last breath. May her soul rest in peace until the great day when Jesus shall appear and rapture up those who are His. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”
Approximately two hundred-strong mourners released a resounding, “Amen.” Afterward, Kidd and Eva waited in line to view the remains, then left. When they drove back to the facility’s parking lot, two patrol cars were posted at the entrance.
Kidd exchanged glances with Eva. “Now what?” he asked, sighing.
He parked and they went inside. The place was buzzing with activity. The staff was in quite a frenzy. Eva stopped Dawn, who hadn’t attended the funeral. “What’s going on?”
“Haven’t you heard?”
“No,” Kidd and Eva said in unison.
“We were at Mrs. Valentine’s funeral,” Eva added.
“Yeah, right. It’s Mrs. Beacon—” Dawn’s voice lowered to above a whisper.
When Eva shook her head, Kidd placed his hand in the arch of her back for support. “Oh, no! God, please, not the third death in a row!” Her voice indicated a heightened level of anxiety that wasn’t lost on Kidd.
God, I’m a strong man, but I can only take so much bad news. Kidd’s body tensed for the rest of the news. “What about her?”
“She’s missing.”
Just then, two officers walked down the hall and headed to the administrative office. The director was frantic. “This has never happened here before. We take pride in the care of our residents. If the media gets wind of this, our reputation will be tarnished.”
“Madam, we’ve checked her room for clues,” said one of the police officers.
Kidd tugged Eva closer to him.
“The pond will be next,” the same officer suggested.
Eva shuddered. “Death comes in threes,” she whispered. “Please, Lord, let them find her alive,” she pleaded, with her hands folded for prayer.
“Everything will be all right.” Kidd hoped to reassure her, gently squeezing her shoulders.
“We have our divers on the way.” The other officer reported to the director.
“Are you aware that all her belongings are gone?”
“What?” Eva gasped.
“Are you saying she escaped?” Kidd’s frown was deep. Just then, his iPhone rang and he checked the ID. “Hey, Parke, ah, about Grandma BB—” Parke cut him off. Kidd’s eyes bugged as he listened, then shook his head. Quickly, he disconnected and looked at Eva.
“Call off the search and rescue team,” he told the officers.
Everyone turned to Kidd. “Why?”
“Grandma BB, Mrs. Beacon, isn’t dead. She’s at home.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“That woman is pure drama,” Kidd said to Eva, as they snuggled together on his sofa. Still trying to get over the shock of Grandma BB’S escape, Eva managed a smile at his comment. At the moment, there wasn’t much more to say about her. Mrs. Beacon had provided an unsettling end to an already mournful day.
Before they left work, Kidd had ordered carryout. Their plan was to spend the evening together. They’d been watching marathon game shows on cable to relax and recover from the events of the day. Eva seemed clingy, and Kidd didn’t mind administering some tender loving care.
With the funeral still fresh in his memory, Kidd’s mind jumped to Mrs. Valentine’s death. Almost as if he felt a sense of guilt, he wanted to confide in Eva. Breaking their moment of silence, he began, “I didn’t detect that Mrs. Valentine wasn’t feeling well the last time I visited with—”
Then he paused, unwilling to complete his thought. He could still hear Mrs. Valentine’s last words about sinful generations dying out. Was she talking about herself? Did she know she was dying? Perplexed by her veiled message, he cleared his throat.
To erase his troubling thoughts, he went back to their initial subject. “I can’t believe Grandma BB was bold enough to post her escape plans on Facebook and Twitter all day yesterday. And after that, she had the nerve to follow through.”
As it turned out, Grandma BB phoned one of her Red Hat Society girlfriends. She told her friend she had to get out fast before she was number three on the death hit list.
Eva expressed her concern. “What I can’t understand is why she just didn’t check herself out or tell you or your cousins to pick her up. I hope she has someone at home to help her, because she needs assistance.”
“Parke’s working on that now. I guess I would be spooked, too, if someone died in the same room where I was staying. That’s kind of creepy to know that the death angel was waiting on Mrs. Valentine. She was that close.”
Eva tapped “pause” on the remote and shifted around in his arms. “We’re all that close to death. We just don’t know how close. That’s why we have to live right every day and constantly pray.”
“Do you ever get tired of praying for me?” he whispered, lost in her beautiful eyes.
“I don’t get tired of fasting and praying for you.” She sighed and became contemplative. “I’ve just never met anyone who is so stubborn. Sometimes I feel like I took a chance on our relationship, but you won’t take a chance on God. And as a God-fearing Christian, it’s very frustrating—because I love you so much.”
Kidd grunted. “I bet you never guessed your man would take you on an emotional roller coaster ride. That was not my intentions, but I did warn you about my demons.”
“I knew you were trouble the moment I saw you.” Eva smiled tenderly and leaned her head against his chest. “I love my man. There’s a song I haven’t heard in a long time.” She began to sing the lyrics: “Somebody prayed for me, they had me on their mind. They took the time and prayed for me. I’m so glad they prayed …”
As she sang, Kidd was drawn into the melody. He closed his eyes and began to do exactly what the song suggested. Pray. He didn’t realize his words were audible until Eva began praying along with him. When they finished with, “In the Name of Jesus,” Eva whispered, “you are my heart.”
“And you are mine.” As Kidd stared in her eyes, a feeling suddenly came over him. However, as the emotion grew stronger, it became apparent that it was contrary to the intent of his prayer. A stirring ignited within his body.
“You’ve got to go,” he said abruptly, startling Eva as he stood to his feet.
“What?” She blinked.
“Eva, your man is 100 plus percent male. I’m on fire for you, so get your purse and keys. I’m taking you home.” He literally pulled her to her feet, then picked up the remote and aimed it at the TV.
“What is
your problem? We’ve always controlled out hormones. We just prayed—”
“And we are going to be praying and repenting in a few minutes—if you keep looking at me like that.”
Eva was taking too long to collect her things, so Kidd literally swept her up in his arms and carried her out the door, ignoring her protests. Unlocking the car doors with his remote, he stuffed her in the front seat as gently as he could. He was about to go around to the driver’s side when she stopped him.
“Hey, caveman, do you mind getting my door keys? They must have fallen out of my purse while you were manhandling me.” Eva asked, scowling.
He went back for her keys, relocked his door, and then dumped the keys in her lap when he got behind the wheel.
“What’s the problem, Kevin? You’ve never treated me so disrespectfully.”
Kidd’s testosterone was raging, and she was accusing him of disrespecting her? If he stripped off her clothes and loved her the way he so desired, that would be disrespectful.
Setting the air to maximum cool, he rolled down his window and explained, “Baby, something came over me in there, and it would scare you for me to repeat it. I love you so much. But if I touch you one more time, I won’t be able to control myself. Please understand.”
Eva giggled, before she broke out into an uncontrollable laugh.
“I hope you have something funny to share with me—to take my mind off you.” Irked by her carefree attitude, Kidd was trying not to dishonor her sexually, and here she was making fun of him for it.
“Baby, you are the sweetest man I know.” She cleared her throat and relaxed in her seat. Then she adjusted the air to tone down the coolness. Folding her hands in her lap, she started, “Okay, here’s something funny. I can’t believe you survived your three-month probation at Garden Chateau. Although barely, considering you gambled with Theo—”
“Hey, the old man challenged me. How was I to know he had a stash of quarters? When I turned down that offer, he suggested his coveted desserts. I knew he was a diabetic, so I figured, why not?”
“Every nursing facility has some unforgettable characters. Miss Jessie Atkins’ sweet spirit is one I’ll always remember and try to emulate. And you—who would’ve thought you’d become so attached to a little old lady who amused herself with stories in her head—nothing more. She was ninety-seven. Slavery was long gone before she was born—legally, at least.”
Kidd’s temperature was beginning to come down. Whew. “The gambler in me says you’re wrong.” He blew another sigh of relief, glad he had gotten out of the house in time. Unable to fully explain the sudden lust that tried to overpower him, he drew a conclusion. Being at home alone with a beautiful woman was bad enough; being alone with a beautiful woman he was deeply in love with was unbearable.
“Really? Is there anything you won’t place a bet on? We’re going to have to do something about this gambling obsession you seem to have.”
“You’re my obsession now. Can’t you tell? I say we go to the library and see if the history books back up all the stuff she said. Besides, we’ll be in a public place.” Then he added an incentive. “And how about this—if she was right, I’ll treat you to a shopping spree in downtown Boston. What do you say?”
“Boston? That’s going a long way to shop until you drop. Hmmm, tempting though … and what if I win … and we find out that Mrs. Valentine was simply a sweet lady who fantasized about slavery?”
“Then I’ll treat you to a shopping spree and dinner in downtown Boston.”
“Either way, it sure seems like you want me to go … to Boston.”
“I want you to see where I came from, so you can see how I got here.”
“I would love to visit Boston. Should I book my hotel room, or will you be doing that?” Eva lifted her brow.
“Woman, after what I just went through a few minutes ago?” Reaching for her hand, Kidd placed a kiss in her palm. “If I want to get you in my bed, then I’ll marry you first.”
“Only if I say yes.”
“You think you’ve seen a storm raging … I can’t take much more conversation with you and the word bed in the same sentence.”
When they made it to Eva’s condo, Kidd walked her to the door. “This can’t go on for much longer, Eva,” he warned. “We both know that.” Backing away, he waited for her to go inside. He didn’t ask for or offer a good-night kiss. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at ten, so we can head to the library.” Kidd whirled around when he heard her lock click. Storming to his car, he got in and drove off.
“Lord, this is not even funny.”
Chapter Forty
On Saturday morning, a receptionist at the St. Louis County Library ushered Kidd and Eva to the third floor where special collections of historical information were stored. Surrounded by bookshelves and cabinets, Kidd was clueless about where to begin to look for the information. Only one person seemed to be manning the desk, and she was White. What does she know about African American history? he wondered.
The curious couple approached the desk and read her name tag: Ruth. She listened intently, then stood and pointed out a wall of file cabinets. Housed within them were microfilms on anything from slave codes to property taxes paid.
As Eva listened to Ruth’s information, a book on a nearby shelf caught her eye. Grabbing it, she sat down at a table to peruse it.
“My eyes are good and I want to keep them that way. I’ll start with the books,” Kidd responded to Ruth, referring to the microfilm.
“We do have records in books from every state, such as marriages, divorces, apprenticeships, morbidities …” Ruth rattled on.
Kidd snapped his fingers.
“That’s it, the morbidity books. Do you have one for Mississippi?” Kidd’s heart pounded. It could possibly validate Mrs. Valentine’s intelligence or prove that she was senile and her ramblings were meaningless. Either way, Eva had already agreed to travel to Boston. He was a happy man.
Ruth fingered the spines of the books on the shelves. “It looks like we have the 1850 and 1860 volumes. The others must be on microfilm.”
Which year did Mrs. Valentine supposedly quote? He thought a few minutes. Finally, he dismissed Ruth and slipped the 1860 book off the shelf. He then joined Eva at the table where she was scanning through another book.
The volume Kidd had chosen was well worn, but in good condition. He thoughtfully resisted manhandling it to preserve it for the next generation. Carefully, he opened the book and flipped through the pages until he finally reached the last names beginning with the letter N.
Kidd’s heart slammed into his chest. “Eva, look at this!” He impatiently waited as she got up from the other side of the table and came around to peer over his shoulder. “Mrs. Valentine was right,” he said in awe, fingering various first names. They all had Negro listed for the last name—from the top of the page to the bottom.
Eva took the seat next to him and became just as engrossed in the information. “It lists their ages, how they died, and the county where they lived. Everything is so detailed, so personalized—everything—except their identity.” She shook her head sadly.
The two spent the remainder of the day in the special collections department. Numerous questions swirled in Kidd’s head about his father, Samuel, and Samuel’s father and Samuel’s grandfather. Kidd approached Ruth countless times about how to research African American history in general. Eva seemed content reading one document from its beginning to the end.
“Do you know where Samuel was born, his parents’ names, does he have any siblings, did he serve in the military?” Ruth fired off one query after another until Kidd had to confess he and his brother were not reared under the same roof with Samuel. It irked him that he didn’t know the answers, and to make matters worse, it was a White person asking the questions.
He waited for the look of pity to flash in Ruth’s eyes. Secretly, that was the main reason for Kidd’s resentment toward Parke. It was because of his lack of knowledge
about his own family. Parke made him feel—not intentionally he was now sure—incomplete when he talked about the Jamieson legacy.
“That won’t stop us. That’s what we’re here for,” Ruth said with determination, “to trace our roots.”
Kidd had forgotten about Eva’s presence until she came up behind him and slid her hand in his. Maybe she sensed his mood change. “Ruth, let me ask you a personal question. Considering my history, aren’t you afraid of what I might uncover about your ancestors and what they might have done to mine?” he quizzed her.
“On the contrary, in the words of President Barak Obama, there is no blue America, white America, or red America. We’re all Americans. I need to know the truth about our shared history. That way, I can help pass it down to the next generation. We need to warn future Americans not to repeat the past.”
With a nod, Kidd smirked. The woman had passed his test. “I hadn’t expected that answer.” He exhaled. “By the way, you’ve been so helpful. I think it’s about time I formally introduce myself. My name is Kevin Jamieson.
Ruth laughed. “Very nice to meet you. I detected a hint of surprise on your face. You look pretty intimidating, but I know who Jesus is.”
Eva quickly came to Kidd’s defense. “He’s a teddy bear who roars like a jungle lion, but plays like a kitten.”
“Sometimes,” he added very simply. What his girlfriend didn’t know about his past wouldn’t hurt her. Eva already knew he carried a gun. Although Kidd had been reading his Bible and praying more, it didn’t stop him from instilling fear into people by his demeanor.
“Not a problem, Mr. Jamieson. Let me know if I can be of any further assistance.” She got up from behind the desk and walked over to another patron, who looked just as confused as Kidd was when he first arrived.
