For Your Love (3 page)

Nathan took their suitcase out of the trunk and handed it to Bobby with a smile. Shivering in the frosty air, they stood waiting while Ms. Brown unlocked the door, and then followed her inside.

Stunned, Bobby stared around. The interior was fully furnished. The walls were a creamy vanilla, the carpet a bit darker. The kitchen had what appeared to be all new stainless appliances.

“Oh, my goodness!” Kiki whispered. She looked both confused and amazed.

“Ms. Brown, I appreciate you bringing us out here,” Bobby said. “But Kiki and I can't afford a place like this.”

“Sure you can,” she contradicted gently. “Rent's free for the first year, and my office will handle the utilities. So take off your coats, get the babies out of those seats and snowsuits, and let me give you the tour.”

He met her eyes. He was sure she saw the emotion glistening in his, but she didn't call him out on it or belittle him. She simply said, “Welcome home.”

After they'd left Bobby and Kiki at the trailer, Nathan drove Bernadine and Crystal back to town. Bernadine was admittedly impressed by the young ­couple. From what Crystal had initially told her about who they were and the struggles they were having, she'd been expecting less
polish,
for lack of a better word, but they were both well-­mannered and polite. Kelly was about Crystal's size. Her skin was a few shades brighter and her face dusted with freckles. She'd been wearing a skirt, boots, and a red turtleneck faded by too many washings, but everything she had on was clean. Her hair was her own—­no weave—­and pulled back into a simple ponytail. Bobby had dark skin, and at his size could easily be playing linebacker for the Chiefs. She'd noted the suit. It wasn't new by any means, but the fact that he'd worn one at all said a lot about how he was approaching this new adventure. She found that pleasing. Going by what the foster kids experienced their first few months in town, the Dallas natives were in for some culture shock. She just hoped they didn't find it too overwhelming.

She glanced over at her daughter. “How do you think they'll do here?”

“I think they're going to do okay. They were really impressed with the trailer. It's a thousand times better than their old apartment back in Dallas.”

While they were touring the fully furnished two-­bedroom place, there'd been smiles and sheer awe on their faces. The Ladies Auxiliary had provided everything from new beds for the twins to a fully stocked pantry and refrigerator.

“Thanks so much for letting them come here.”

“You're welcome. Giving them a helping hand was an easy decision.”

“But you could've said no.”

“True, but when you asked, I saw how serious you were, and how much it meant. I'm looking forward to getting to know them.”

”Bobby seems a little uncomfortable, though. I don't think he's ever had anyone be nice to him like this.”

“Possibly.” She remembered how moved he'd appeared when he realized that the trailer was theirs rent-­free. The emotion she'd seen in his eyes said a lot about him. “Considering what you told me about his past, I'm sure he hasn't, but he'll get used to it.”

“I hope so. I don't want them to go back without giving this place a chance.”

“Neither do I, so keep an eye on how they're adjusting. They'll probably be more comfortable confiding in you if they have a problem. If something comes up that you think I can help them with, let me know.”

“Okay.”

There was something else Bernadine had been wanting to talk with Crystal about, and she thought maybe now might be the time. Keeping her voice light, she asked, “So, how are you feeling about this whole college application process?”

She saw Nathan's eyes catch hers in the mirror. She didn't mind that he was listening. Like everyone else in town, he and his wife, Lou, and their baby, Ethan, were family.

Crystal shrugged. “Not being able to get into the places I want is kinda depressing.”

Crystal had come to Henry Adams as a streetwise, mouthy fourteen-­year-­old runaway, and Bernadine adopted her a year later. She'd be graduating in the spring, and because she was also an outstanding artist, she'd applied to some of the major East Coast art schools. They'd all sent letters of:
We regret to inform you . . .

“My SAT scores suck.”

“Only because of all the school you missed when you lived in Dallas. Academically you have some catching up to do, but you can enroll in the community college, work your butt off for those two years, and go from there. Easily fixed.”

“I guess,” Crystal said gloomily. “When I was in Dallas, I didn't want to go to college. Now that I do, I can't get in.”

“You'll get in—­just maybe not right away. Is your triptych almost done?”

“Almost.”

One of the museums in California was sponsoring a contest for high school artists, and Crystal had been working for over a year on the three-­paneled project she planned to enter. First prize was scholarship money and the honor of having her work hung in the museum. When Crystal ran away from home this past fall, Bernadine had been afraid she'd turn her back on her art, along with everything else she'd gained since coming to Kansas. But now she was on track again in school, art, and life.

“Submissions begin in January, right?”

“Yes, and when I win, I can tell all the schools that turned me down to KMA.”

Nathan's smile was caught by the mirror.

“Not sure that's the mature way to respond,” Bernadine pointed out. “But winning might make those schools give you a second look.”

“Maybe.”

“Either way your future is bright, Crys. Real bright. Just keep doing your best.”

“Thanks, Mom. I'm trying.”

“I know you are, and that's all anyone can ask.”

Since it was only a little past noon, Nathan dropped Crystal off at school before driving Bernadine to the low-­slung red architectural wonder called the Power Plant. It was named that not due to a connection to utilities but because Bernadine, Trent, and Lily, who was chief procurement officer and Bernadine's right hand, ran the town's operations from their offices inside.

“Thanks, Nathan,” Bernadine said as he opened the car door and gave her a guiding hand. “Have a great rest of the day.”

“You, too, Ms. Brown.”

She hurried to the door to escape the cold wind, and he drove away. She'd just hung up her fur inside when a knock on her open door made her turn. It was Trent July. “Hey, Mr. Mayor. Town still in one piece?”

“Far as I know. How'd it go?”

“It went well. Got them settled in, and they really liked the place. Bobby's about the size of a Chiefs linebacker, and Kelly, or Kiki, as they call her, is a little bitty thing with freckles. Babies are precious. He says he likes working on cars. Wants to own a detailing shop down the road.”

“Good to have goals.”

“Yes, it is. They don't have any wheels, though, so can you take them over to Anderson's sometime tomorrow and see if he has something that's reasonably priced? I'll pay.” Anderson's was a used car dealership over in Franklin.

“Sure. I'd like to meet them. Do you think they'd mind if I swung by later?”

“Don't see why not. I'll check with them and see what's a good time.”

“Good. Thanks. So what's your take on Bobby? Do you think he'll be okay here?”

“I do. He wore a suit, which impressed me.” She told him about Bobby saying he couldn't afford the trailer, and his reaction when she explained the terms.

“So he's not here expecting a handout?”

“Crystal said he worked two jobs to take care of his family down in Dallas, so the answer is probably no. Former gang member notwithstanding, I think there's a fairly decent young man beneath all the ink.”

“Ink? As in tats?”

“Yes. Not sure how extensive they are, but I could see them above the collar of his shirt.” She watched him think on that.

“Interesting.”

“I'm not sure how his background and the ink are going to play here, but he'll have my unconditional support until he shows me it's undeserved.”

“Good thing Riley Curry's not around. I can just hear him screaming about the kid having been a gang member.”

“Me, too.” The former mayor was a narrow-­minded, judgmental little twerp. When Bernadine first came to town, he was convinced her money came from ties to a drug cartel. “Crystal hasn't said anything about his family other than his mom, but I'm assuming he's not had a strong male presence in his life. Then again, I could be wrong.”

“You, wrong? Never.”

Trent's sense of humor was one of the many things Bernadine liked about him, along with his being the son of the man she loved.

“But even if you are, seeing how ­people live in small towns can be beneficial, and if you're not, there are enough men here to make up for that—­at least for the future.”

She agreed. The boys—­Amari, Preston, Devon, and new arrival Wyatt—­would go through life strengthened by lessons learned from men like Trent. Eli, the teenage son of the town's teacher, Jack James, had always had his dad, but he too would step into an adulthood made stronger by associating with Henry Adams's males. “So now your turn. What's going on in that engineer's head of yours? How do you feel about them moving here?”

“We did invite them, so I'm going into my first visit with an open mind.”

Bernadine smiled. “That's all I ask.”

 

O
nce the twins were settled in their new cribs for their afternoon nap, Bobby and Kiki sat together on the couch.

“Been an amazing day so far,” she said.

“I know.”

“So how are you feeling? Still worried?”

He gave her a smile. “Who said I was worried?” Her insight always surprised him. She knew him better than he knew himself sometimes.

“Call it woman's intuition. You haven't said anything out loud, but I know you, Bobby.”

Rather than deny the truth, he offered, “Not sure how I'm feeling. Never been in a situation like this. I keep thinking something's going to happen and make everything disappear.”

“Same here. We didn't see a lot of city stuff on the way in. No movie theaters, no traffic, no buildings—­no malls, no nothing. Now I get why Crystal ran away. I still think she was out of her damned mind, though.” She glanced slowly around the room. “Do you think we would've ever been able to get such a nice place on our own?”

“Maybe in ten years, but definitely not overnight like this. The street in me keeps thinking there's a catch. This place looks like somewhere TV White ­people would live.”

Amusement in her eyes, Kiki nodded. “But instead, it's us.”

She scooted closer, and he draped an arm over her shoulder. Since they'd made the decision to move, he'd been worried about so many things, from food to rent to furniture, but the moment they walked in, all that slid away. In the kitchen were top-­of-­the-­line appliances. The dark wood cabinetry and drawers held utensils and dishes and silverware, glasses, pots, and pans, even kitchen towels. The pantry was fully stocked with everything from trash bags to pasta and oatmeal for the babies. When he pulled open the fridge door, the sight of all the food inside made him turn to Ms. Brown in shock. What kind of place was this, where they stocked a fridge for ­people they didn't know? And then there was the bedroom for the twins. The walls were a pale yellow, the floor a nice clean carpet, a vivid contrast to the dirty, stained one back in Dallas, and there were nice drapes on the windows. He'd watched Kiki run her hands reverently over the wooden frames of the two new baby beds and, like him, take in the books and toys on the white wood built-­ins. There was even a big upholstered rocker in the corner, where she'd sat down and rocked and wiped at the tears wetting her cheeks.

Her soft voice broke his reverie, pulling him back to the present. “Living here is going to be good for the twins and for us.”

“I know, but I feel out of place—­way out of place.”

“I do too, but let's roll with it and see where it takes us. You're not thinking about us going back to Dallas already, are you?”

Her eyes were questioning, and he sought to reassure her. “I wouldn't do that to you, baby. I—­I just don't know if this is right for us yet, that's all.” He didn't know how to handle a life that didn't involve struggle.

“How about we give it some time, and if it's not working, we'll go back. Deal?”

“Deal.” That she would agree to leave knowing how much moving here meant to her reminded him why she was the best thing that ever happened to him. He pulled her closer and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Thanks for hanging with me all these years.”

“Who else was going to put up with your butt?” she laughed, then turned serious. “I love you, Robert Douglas Sr.”

He slowly traced her cheek. “You're my world, girl. Believe it.” And because it was the truth, he wanted to make this work.

A knock at the door grabbed their attention. Out of habit, Bobby went to the window and pulled the drape aside just enough to see. A large black pickup was parked out front, but the driver was nowhere to be seen. He walked to the door. “Who is it?”

“Trent July,” a male voice called back.

He opened up. July was a few inches taller, lean and wearing a black cowboy hat and a partially zipped black parka, with a black turtleneck beneath. His legs showed worn jeans, and his feet were in well-­seasoned tan work boots.

“I'm Bobby Douglas,” Bobby said guardedly. “Nice to meet you.” They shook hands as Trent entered, and Bobby closed the door behind him. “That's my girl, Kelly Page.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. July.”

He removed the hat. “Same here, but call me Trent. Welcome to Kansas—­both of you.”

“Thanks.” She rose from the sofa. “I'm going to check on the babies.”

With her departure Bobby felt an awkward silence rise. “Have a seat,” he invited, gesturing.

July removed his coat and complied. “Ms. Brown told me you said this would be a good time to stop by. I'm not interrupting, am I?”

“No. You're fine.”

“Just wanted to come over for a minute to introduce myself and make sure you and the family are settling in.”

“We are. Just trying to get used to the place.”

“Bernadine show you the mechanicals?”

Bobby paused.

“The furnace. Hot water heater.”

“Oh. Yes, she showed me all that. Just never heard them called that before.” Out of habit, Bobby sized him up. July wouldn't be somebody he'd've targeted back in his gang days. Even relaxed, the man exuded a quiet power that let you know he'd not be easy prey. The eyes meeting his were direct—­frank. Bobby wondered how many ­people in July's past had been fooled by the seemingly easygoing exterior.

“Ms. Brown wants me to help you find a vehicle as soon as we can work out a time. Do you have time to go looking in the morning?”

“I—­don't have money for a car.”

“Understood, but it's part of your welcome package. None of us want you and your family cooped up in the house all winter.”

Bobby paused and stared. “She's giving us a car, too?”

“Yeah.”

“Where's she getting all this money?”

“Huge divorce settlement and wise investing. We were blown away when she bought our town a few years back, too.”

“She owns the whole town?”

“Yes.” July told the story of how Bernadine saved Henry Adams, and all that had transpired in the years since. “She's an incredible lady,” he wound up. “She's got a huge heart.”

“I guess.”

“And so you'll know, turning down the car is not an option. Knowing her, she'll have it ordered and driven out here anyway, so save her the trouble, and let's go look at something. It won't be new, but it'll run and last you until you can get on your feet.”

“I don't believe this.”

“None of us believed she was for real at first, either. Even now, her generosity still throws us a curve sometimes. When she first arrived, we all walked around looking as stunned as you do now.”

Bobby smiled. “This is damn crazy.”

“Tell me about it. The lady is one of a kind.”

“So where do we go to find a car?”

“There's a dealership in Franklin, the next town over.”

Kiki came out of the back, and Bobby asked, “Still asleep?”

She nodded.

“Ms. Brown is giving us a car,” he informed her.

“
What?
”

“Yeah, Trent and I are going to go look for one in the morning.”

July told her, “You and the babies are welcome to come along, too, if you want.”

“No, I think we'll just chill here. I don't want them going out in the cold too much at first—­none of us are used to this weather. What kind of car?” She still seemed confused.

“Something suitable that runs well,” Bobby said.

There was another knock on the door and he wondered how this could be. As he'd done earlier, he went to the window. “Do you know who drives an old green truck?”

“My grandmother, Tamar.”

“She's the one who owns the land?”

She knocked again. Harder.

“Yes, and you should probably open up. You don't want her mad at you from jump.”

At the door Bobby was still cautious, though. “Who is it?”

“Tamar July.”

Bobby opened up, and she walked in, bringing with her the cold air and a frank assessment from dark eyes that were a few inches above his own. She was dressed in a brown knee-­length parka, jeans, and black boots. A large brown felt cowboy hat covered the gray hair that hung in a knot low on her neck. She peered down at him like one of those birds of prey from the nature shows Kiki liked to watch.

“Wanted to come over and introduce myself. Hi, grandson.”

July nodded.

“I'm Bobby Douglas. That's Kiki.” She seemed frozen in her tracks. “Would you like a seat?”

“Thank you, no. I'm not staying.”

She was so not what Bobby had been expecting. He wouldn't've targeted her, either. A mugger would get his ass kicked fooling with her.

“Everything about the trailer okay?” she asked.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Manners. I like that. Is Kiki your real name, my dear?”

Kiki seemed to come out of her trance. “No, ma'am. It's Kelly.”

“Then you'll be Kelly. Crystal spoke very highly of you both. Looking forward to knowing you better. We'll be having a town meeting tomorrow. I'll expect you to be there, so you can meet everyone.”

Bobby noted that she hadn't given them a choice, but he instinctively knew to keep his mouth shut and go with it. “We'll be there.”

July told her, “Bobby and I will be going to look at cars in the morning.”

She nodded as if that were a good thing. “I'm in the house that you probably saw when you arrived. If you need anything, just let me know. Here, let me give you my number.”

To his surprise she withdrew from her pocket a top-­of-­the-­line smartphone. Seeing his surprise, she smiled for the first time and punched in her password. “I'm old, but I'm not dead. Yet.”

Numbers were exchanged, and when that was done, she said, “Okay, I'm going home. Nice to meet you two. Welcome to Henry Adams.” And with a parting nod to her grandson, she was gone.

Closing the door behind her, Bobby glanced at July questioningly.

“Her bark is worse than her bite—­most of the time.”

“When Ms. Brown said she was in her eighties, I expected—­”

“Someone a little less forceful?”

“Yeah.”

“Remember the Aaliyah song ‘Age Ain't Nothing but a Number'?”

Bobby and Kelly smiled.

“That's my grandmother. Runs rings around all of us. We're hoping she lives forever.” July rose to his feet. “I'm going to head back. Been great meeting you.”

“Same here.” Bobby didn't know why, but he was looking forward to knowing July better. The verdict on the grandmother was still out, though. “What time do you want me to be ready in the morning?”

“The dealership opens at nine. So make it nine. It's only a short ride. That okay?”

“That works.” They shared a shake. “Thanks, Trent.”

“You're welcome. Kelly, take it easy. Looking forward to meeting the twins.”

“Remember you said that,” she tossed back, smiling.

“See you folks in the morning.”

Closing the door behind July, Bobby said, “I like him.”

“I do, too. Ms. Tamar is off-­the-­chain scary, though.”

“No shit.”

And they laughed.

On his drive home, Trent thought the short visit had gone well. Nothing about the ­couple jumped out at him or raised red flags. Like Bernadine, he looked forward to knowing them better. Bobby's wariness at the door had been memorable. Living in a major urban area was sometimes full of danger, and with his gangbanger past, the young man had probably experienced more than his share. Henry Adams would be a safer environment, which he was certain they'd figure out soon.

On another note, he would've loved to have been able to read Bobby's mind during Tamar's visit. She definitely was not your stereotypical senior citizen—­nothing about the July matriarch said “feeble” or “old.” In his heart, Trent did indeed want her to live forever; a far-­fetched desire, but he couldn't imagine a world without her presence.

After school, Brain and Amari waved good-­bye to Leah Clark and her little sister, the always pain-­in-­the-­butt Tiffany Adele, and started the walk home. Amari also watched the new girl, Kyra Jones, drive off with her dad. She lived in Franklin; she and her family went to Reverend Paula's church, and she and Amari were on the same acolyte team. A few weeks ago she'd transferred to their school, the Marie Jefferson Academy, because life in Franklin was going down the tubes, thanks to their crazy mayor, Astrid Wiggins.

“Is it just me or does Kyra look different?”

“Kyra Jones?”

“Yeah.”

“Different how?”

“It's like she's cute.”

“Kyra?”

“Yeah. Weird, huh. Maybe I'm coming down with the flu or something.”

Brain stared. “Maybe. She and her braces look the same to me. Jaws from James Bond.”

Amari wanted to defend her, but Brain was his best friend, so he let it go. “Maybe it's just my imagination.”

Brain grinned. “You developing a thing for Jaws, man?”

“Stop calling her that.”

Brain studied him for a few moments. “Wow. You are.”

“No, I'm not. Just wanted to know if she looked different to you. That's all.”

“Whatever.”

He and Brain rarely argued. Their shared foster-care pasts and experiences in Henry Adams had bonded them close as blood. They supported each other, and knew that if one needed to talk, the other would listen without judging. Yes, Amari was jealous of Brain having his mom in his life, but he was still his BFF. “So, how's your mom doing?”

Up in his room, Amari sat lounging in his gaming chair. He had his controller in his hand, but he couldn't concentrate on the game on screen because Kyra's face kept flitting across his mind's eye. She was a mousy little thing, with features no one would ever compare to Beyoncé's or Rihanna's, but he swore something about her had changed. All day at school he'd done nothing but stare at her face, her hair, the pink sweater she had on, and the way her jeans fit. He even liked the quick whiff of her perfume that teased his nose when she passed him on the way to her seat. Amari knew he had an over-­the-­top personality, so how could he possibly like a girl who rarely even spoke? The more he thought about it, the more certain he was that Brain was right. Amari “Flash” Steele July was liking Jaws aka Kyra Jones, and he didn't have a clue what to do with it or what it meant. He thought maybe he should talk to his mom or better yet his dad about it, but then again, maybe if he waited a ­couple of days, the weird way she had him feeling inside would miraculously go away, and he'd return to fantasizing about having a really hot babe as his girlfriend. Deciding to roll with that, he hit start on the game and resumed saving the world with Spider-­Man.