Legacy of Love
In the months leading up to their breakup, he’d felt himself pulling away from Carla as if drawn by some unseen force—the same force that brought him to Atlanta. The same force that filled his dreams at night, clouded his thoughts during the day and the scent that wafted under his nostrils when he least expected it. Like today.
He surfed through the channels and finally settled on MSNBC. He was still bummed by the changing lineup, but it was still one of the best cable news channels on the air. He crossed his feet at the ankles, but instead of concentrating on the latest developments in the Middle East, his thoughts segued to the strange feelings he’d experienced at the restaurant and the brief glimpse of that woman. He exhaled a deep breath. The woman he thought he had to see. He pressed his fingers over his eyes. Whatever was going on with him seemed to have escalated in the past few weeks. But in the midst of all the weirdness, he knew somehow this was where he was meant to be. For what, he wasn’t sure. At some point it would all work itself out.
He was between dozing and half listening to Rachel Maddow when the vibrations of his cell phone broke into the lazy rhythm that was lulling him to sleep. Groaning, he turned to his side and dug his cell phone out of his sweatpants pocket. He held the iPhone up in front of him. His sister’s name and number were lit up on the screen.
“Hey, sis.”
“Did I wake you?”
“No. Just watching a little TV. Whatsup?” He stifled a yawn.
Michelle chuckled. “You were always such a bad liar. But since I woke you up, how are you?”
He tucked his hand behind his head. “Aw, now why do we have to start off with the name-calling?” he teased. His twin sister was more than a sibling. They were best friends. Jackson often felt bad that he didn’t have that same level of connection with their older brother, Franklin. But Franklin was fifteen years older than his twin brother and sister and they were as much a surprise to him—upsetting his status as the only child—as their arrival was to their stunned parents. In their years growing up, Franklin was more of a father, rather than an older brother. Long before they were out of grade school, Franklin was off to college, and then marriage with children of his own.
“It’s true,” she volleyed back. “You can pretend with everyone except me. Those are the rules. Anyway, you’ve been on my mind all day. Is everything cool?”
Jackson stared up at the ceiling for a moment. Before he’d left New Orleans for Atlanta, he’d confessed to his sister about the strange pull he’d been feeling, and that somehow his destiny was in Atlanta.
“It’s getting stronger,” he finally said.
Michelle was quiet for a moment. “Anything new…different?”
“I thought I saw her today.”
“What? Really? What did she look like?”
“Whoa, hold on.” He chuckled. “I mean I didn’t actually see her. I kind of thought I might have caught a glimpse of her.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew how ridiculous they sounded.
“Hmm, like an impression,” Michelle deduced.
Jackson grinned. If anyone could understand it would be Michelle. “Exactly.” He went on to explain what had transpired earlier in the day.
“You made the right decision, Jackson, about everything. Keep opening yourself and the answers will come. I firmly believe that.”
“So do I, sis.”
They talked for a while longer about the family, their respective jobs and then Michelle revealed the other reason for her call. “Carla is getting married. The announcement was in the Time-Picayune last weekend.”
The news barely stirred him. He was only mildly surprised that he didn’t feel something more. “I’m happy for her. I wasn’t the one.”
“I want you to be happy, too. And my sixth sense tells me that it’s only a matter of time.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
“You do that. I haven’t been wrong yet. Listen, gotta run. We’ll talk soon. Okay?”
“Yep. Tell Travis hello and give my niece a kiss for me.”
“Will do. Love ya.”
“Back at you.”
Jackson placed the phone on the coffee table. Michelle was right. Her intuition was always on point. How it was going to finally play out, however, was anyone’s guess.
Chapter 3
Zoe decided to forego the ten-minute drive to work and opted to walk instead, making up for her missed visits to the gym over the past week. She strolled, her mind and spirit lifted by the warmth of the morning sun and the soft breeze that carried the scent of blooming flowers and the secret aroma of the South—rich, lush, troubled, ever changing…and something burning. She quickened her pace.
The sound of screaming sirens drew closer and when she reached the corner she saw grey smoke billowing out of one of the buildings on the street. A crowd began to gather even as the fireman urged them back.
Zoe’s hand flew to the center of her chest. “Oh, no.” Slowly she approached the growing crowd. The hair on her arms and at the back of her neck seemed to rise. Her heart pounded. For a moment she felt light-headed and swayed where she stood. The scene in front of her started to recede.
“Are you all right?”
A strong arm gripped her around the waist, keeping her from sinking to her knees. Her rescuer guided her across the street and helped her to sit down on a bench.
Zoe sucked in long breaths of air trying to clear her head.
“Smoke must have gotten to you,” the voice was saying.
She shook her head to clear it and looked into the most incredible pair of dark eyes that were staring at her with concern. She knew those eyes, that voice. But that was not possible. She didn’t know this man. Fear crept through her body. She wanted to run, but she couldn’t make her body move.
“Sit right here, I’m going to get you some water.”
She watched him rise and tower above her, the same image that came to her in her dreams. Her stomach dipped and rose and dipped again. She gripped the arm of the bench.
He hurried down the crowded street, weaving his way around the clutch of bodies, trucks and fire hoses.
Another fire truck screamed onto the street. Flames leaped from one building to the next. Shouts rang out from the crowd as they were urged back by fireman and now the police. News vans pulled onto the street.
Zoe got to her feet and was suddenly caught up in the crowd that was being pushed back by the police.
“Move it back! Move it back!”
Zoe merged with the throng, swept along with the wave of bodies until she was ushered off of the street. The farther she moved from the scene the clearer her thoughts became. She tried to spot him, convince herself that he was real and not some trick of her imagination. He was gone, as if he never existed. He probably didn’t, she told herself as she took an alternate route to the museum.
By the time she arrived she felt exhausted, drained as if she hadn’t slept and then worked all day. Yet, it was barely nine o’clock, and for the first time in weeks she’d actually slept through the night.
Zoe greeted the security guard, swiped her ID card through the slot and proceeded to her office. Once inside she slipped out of her suit jacket and just as she was about to hang it up on the hook, that familiar scent filled her senses. She pulled the jacket to her nose. Instead of hints of smoke and soot from the fire it smelled like…him.
Her hands shook and the jacket fell from her fingers.
The phone on her desk rang and she jumped a half inch off the floor.
Exhaling deeply, she returned to her desk and picked up the phone. “Zoe Beaumont.” Slowly she lowered herself into her seat.
“Zoe, it’s Mama.”
Zoe sat straight up. Her mother never called her at work. They saved their long, often giggly conversations for Sunday afternoons.
“Mama, what is it?”
“Your grandmother’s been asking for you.”
“Is Nana all right? What’s wrong?”
“I…I don’t know. She’s getting more distant everyday. Most days she thinks it’s fifty years ago. The only thing that makes sense is her asking for you. You have to come, baby.”
“I was planning to come this weekend. But if you think I need to leave earlier I will. Sharlene is driving down with me.” She could feel her mother’s relief seep through the phone.
“Good. I’ll fix up the guest room. Thank you, baby.”
“Ma, you don’t have to thank me. Please. You take it easy. Where are Aunt Flo and Aunt Fern?”
“Taking turns looking after your grandmother. She hardly notices…” Her voice cracked. “Just come as soon as you can.”
“I will. I promise. Give my love to Nana.”
Zoe replaced the phone in the cradle. She’d heard the anxiety and fear in her mother’s voice. Miraya Beaumont was as reliable as the North Star. Nothing threw her off course. So to hear uncertainty in her mother’s voice completely unnerved Zoe.
She swiveled her chair toward her computer, and powered it up, intent on finding a flight out of Atlanta that wouldn’t bankrupt her. Just as the search engine got her to the website, Mike came in.
“Hey. Good morning. What’s up?”
“Morning. Did you hear about the big fire up on 9th?”
“I was there.”
Mike frowned. “What?”
“I mean, I decided to walk today and literally walked right into it. Awful.” She shook her head at the memory. “It looked like the whole block was going to go up in flames.” A little shiver went through her as the image of the man of her dreams invaded her senses.
“It’s been on all the news channels, but it looks like they finally got it under control.”
“Thank goodness. I hope no one got hurt.”
“Yeah.” He came around to the side of her desk. “Here are the bills for last month’s shipments.”
“Just leave them. I’ll take care of it.” The Delta Air Lines home page filled her computer screen.
Mike dropped the folders on her desk and spied the page. “Vacation?”
“Not really. I need to get home in a hurry.”
“Everything cool?”
“It’s my grandmother.” She keyed in her information. “I was planning on driving down this weekend, but my mom called just a little while ago and she sounded…” Her fingers flew across the keys. She sniffed, pulled open her desk drawer to get her purse. She took out her wallet and flipped through the compartments for her Visa card, keyed in the numbers and waited.
“I think it’s best that I don’t wait.” She swallowed the knot in her throat.
“Hey, do what you have to do. Family first. I got this. Don’t worry about it.”
Zoe forced a smile. “Thanks.”
The screen flashed her confirmation number and the button to print her itinerary and boarding pass. She pressed Print.
Mike placed a large comforting hand on her shoulder. She tilted her head toward him and blinked back the tears burning in her eyes.
“Need a lift to the airport?”
“No. My flight is at 6:00 a.m. I wouldn’t do that to anyone,” she said, only half joking.
“It’s not a problem.” He stepped back. “Just let me know.”
She bobbed her head. “Thanks.”
Mike strolled out.
Mike really was a great guy. He was intelligent, hard working, fun, sexy. He definitely had it all. She sighed. But even with all that she couldn’t take her mind off of what had happened to her less than an hour earlier. The impression of him, his scent, the look in his eyes, the arch of his cheekbones, the curve of his bottom lip.
Her heart raced as the image of her night stalker come to life replayed in her mind. Yet her pulse didn’t race with fear or trepidation, but rather with anticipation and curiosity. Who was he really and why did he have that kind of effect on her? Was he really the man of her dreams? She logged off of the Delta site and laughed lightly to herself. There you go being ridiculous. If that were true, then it meant that she really was buying into all that foolishness that her mother, aunts and grandmother had been saying for as long as she could remember. Ridiculous.
Her grandmother. Nana Zora was the thread that held the fabric of her family together. She couldn’t imagine her family without Nana Zora. Growing up, Nana had been more of a mother to her than her own mother, Miraya, had ever been. Her mother was an aspiring singer and spent most of Zoe’s youth and young adulthood traveling the country, moving from one nightclub or lounge to the other. One disappointment too many and a cigarette short of losing her voice altogether, Miraya returned to her hometown of New Orleans and tried to put her life back together and bond with a daughter she barely knew.
It was Nana Zora who encouraged Zoe to pursue her love of the arts, which she insisted Zoe had inherited from her mother. Zoe believed differently. It was her Nana who nurtured her passion for art and painting and her interest in history and other cultures. By the time Miraya Beaumont returned to New Orleans, Zoe had traveled and studied and mapped out her future—without the help or guidance of her mother. It took time and a lot of patience, forgiveness and a lot of coaxing from Nana but they’d finally found their way to each other.
It was also her grandmother who firmly believed in the legacy of the Beaumont women. As much as she didn’t want to buy into the old wives’ tale and family lore, everything that her grandmother, her mother and her aunts had said was slowly coming to pass.
She picked up the phone to call Sharlene and let her know about her change of plans and wondered what her grandmother would say about the inexplicable events that had made their way into her life.
“Tomorrow morning?”
“I don’t want to wait until the weekend. My mother sounded scared and she never sounds scared.”
“Let me rearranged my schedule. Give me your flight number and I’ll book my ticket as well.”
“Sharl, that’s too much. You don’t have to—”
“I know that. I want to. She’s my Nana, too. And you’re my sister. I’ll call you back in a few.”
Zoe squeezed the receiver in her hand and briefly shut her eyes. She wouldn’t admit to Sharlene just how much she needed her. She didn’t have to. Sharlene already knew.
Chapter 4
Jackson shut the door of his Explorer and walked across the parking lot of Clark-Atlanta University. The acrid scent of smoke still lingered in his nostrils and the image of the woman in his mind. When he’d literally stumbled upon her he couldn’t believe it at first. He was certain she was the same woman he’d spotted the other day. He could kick himself for leaving her even for a second before he found out who she was.
He cut across the lot and entered the campus grounds, followed the path to the humanities building and tugged open the ornate wood door.
“Mornin’ Professor Treme,” said a young man in a freshly pressed white shirt with an armload of books.
“Have a productive day, Mahlik,” Jackson offered before turning the corner toward his office. His first class wasn’t for another twenty minutes. “Hey, Jackson!”
Jackson glanced over his shoulder. It was his colleague Levi Fortune hurrying toward him.
“I wanted to talk with you about something,” he said, coming to a stop alongside Jackson.
“Levi, if it’s about taking over one of your classes again, the answer is no.” He stuck the key into the lock of his office door.
“Aw, come on man. Just one more time. I’ve got to put the finishing touches on my dissertation. I have to defend it in three weeks.”
“You should have taken a sabbatical.” Jackson shook his head in a combination of dismay and annoyance. He could only imagine the stress that Levi was under trying to teach three classes and get his second doctorate degree. The man was no dummy, but he was going to kill himself in the process. Jackson turned to him and grinned.
“Okay. You know I will.” He pushed open the office door. “Take a load off.” Jackson walked in and dropped his soft brown leather satchel on top of his desk then walked around his desk to open the window blinds.
Levi dropped down into the lone chair in the tight space and stretched out his long legs. “You know I owe you.”
“Big time. I’ll think of something. So how’s the work coming?”
Levi linked his fingers together. “Man, if I survive this, I’m done. For real.” He chuckled lightly. “I don’t remember it being this hard.”
“Ancient languages are no joke, man.” He lowered himself into his squeaky leather chair. “So, when you get your degree I have to call you Dr. Dr. Fortune or what?”
“You can just call me doctor. The rest of them can call me Double D.”
They broke out laughing and exchanged a pound.
“What’s your day looking like?”
“Not too bad. I have one class this morning and one right after lunch,” Jackson said. “How about you?”
“Two before lunch. Department meeting this afternoon and then I’m done. Wanna grab a beer or something later?”
“Yeah, yeah sure. Meet you around five?”
“Cool.” He got up from the chair. “And thanks again for standing in for me.”
“We gotta help each other out.”
“So I’ll see you around five. Over at Smitty’s?” Levi said on his way out.
“Yeah. I’ll be there and the beers are on you.”
“No doubt. Later, man.”
Jackson unsnapped his satchel and took out a folder stuffed with graded papers, notes and the lesson plan for his upcoming class. He checked his watch. He had about ten minutes. He leaned back in his seat and went over his notes, making sure that he had plenty of material to cover during the ninety-minute session. Some days his class arrived fully prepared and were totally engaged. Other times, it was like talking to comatose patients. He hoped today wasn’t one of those days. He wasn’t up for it. It was taking all of his concentration to stay focused on what he needed to do and not what had happened earlier.
He expelled a long, slow breath, dropped the folder on the desk and swiveled his chair around so that it faced the window.
She was out there. The tug of a smile arched his lips. All the circumstances that had led him to leave Louisiana and move to Atlanta weren’t coincidences at all. Did she know? Did she believe as he did that they were destined to be together?
He pushed back from his chair and stood. Totally crazy, he thought as he shoved his papers back in his satchel and snapped it shut. Had someone told him he’d give up everything that was familiar and move to a new city in search of a woman he’d never seen before, he would have had them committed. But here he was.
Jackson opened the door and stepped out into the now busy corridor, teeming with eager young men and women bent on making a difference in the world. It was only a matter of time, he thought, before the two of them would meet again. He felt it in the marrow of his bones.
Just as he approached the entrance to his classroom, his teaching assistant, Victoria Rush, stopped him. Victoria was a doctoral student whose dissertation was on ancient and African art—his passion. She’d campaigned hard for the position and beat out several other candidates. Victoria was good. She was thorough and professional, but it was becoming clear to Jackson that Veronica spent a little too much time trying to prove herself to him. She always offered much more than the assignment called for, needing just a “few minutes” of his time a bit too often, even asking if there were any errands that he needed her to run.
On the surface it was all pretty harmless, but he was beginning to get an uncomfortable feeling. He hoped that this relationship wouldn’t become a problem. Besides, one would think that her schedule would be pretty full without having to add his agenda to hers.
“Hey, Victoria, class is about to start.”
“I know. I was hoping that I could talk to you after your class.”
That uncomfortable feeling began with a tightness in his insides. “Is it the research paper?”
“Actually—” she lowered the books she was holding to her chest to reveal a low cut top “—it’s personal.”
“Personal? Victoria—Ms. Rush, if this has nothing to do with the course…”
“I know this may seem inappropriate, professor. But I don’t know who else I can talk to.” She blinked away the water that began to well in her eyes.
Aw, man. The last thing he needed was a crying grad student. “Okay, after class. Meet me in the cafeteria.” At least the cafeteria was public.
She beamed a smile, flashing deep dimples in a nut-brown face. “Thank you.” She turned and hurried away.
Jackson lowered his head for a second and blew out a frustrated breath then opened the classroom door. Hopefully his students would be awake, otherwise this was going to be a long hour and a half.
The ninety-minute Art History class wound down on an up note. The scheduled trip to the High Museum for the unveiling of the fertility statues was all set. The students actually seemed excited. Jackson left the class feeling good until he remembered his meeting with Victoria. Reluctantly he walked through the corridors until he reached the cafeteria. He couldn’t imagine what Victoria could want or better, what he could do about it.
The tables were dotted with students huddled over textbooks and Styrofoam containers of French fries and half-eaten sandwiches. Jackson surveyed the brightly lit room and didn’t see Victoria.
Deciding whether to duck out before she turned up, he started to leave and ran smack into her. Her books tumbled to the floor.
“I’ll get that.” Jackson bent down and so did Victoria, leaning provocatively over the tumble of books and loose papers.
“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have walked up behind you like that,” she said, gathering her papers into a neat pile.
Jackson picked up the two textbooks and stood. “Sorry about that.” He looked around then back at her. “I’ve got to make this quick. I have another class.”
“I know. It won’t take long. Can we sit down for a minute?’
“Um, sure.” He lifted his chin in the direction of an available table. “Over there.”
“Great.” She sauntered toward the table and sat down.
“So what did you want to talk about?” he asked, cutting to the chase. He set his briefcase on the floor near his feet.
“I know I’ve only been working with you for a short time, professor. And the experience has been wonderful. I enjoy the work and all the research.” She paused. “But I’m going to have to give up my position,” she blurted in one long breath.
Jackson didn’t know if he should be relieved or annoyed. Victoria had practically begged her way into the position, one that didn’t come easily to many grad students, especially women. With some urging from the search committee, he’d passed over several other equally qualified male prospects and finally settled on her.
“I see. Would you care to share your reason?”
She lowered her head for a moment. “It’s personal.” She reached across the table and covered his hand with hers with a beseeching look in her eyes right out of the soap operas. “Believe me, I don’t want to go, but it’s best.” She pushed out a breath. “I’ll finish up the project that I was working on for you and hand over all the notes.”
“Victoria, are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? Maybe I can help.”
He watched her throat move and the words come up and then get swallowed. She pushed back from the table and stood. Then without another word she turned and nearly ran away. Several heads turned in her direction and then his. Questions hung in their eyes before they turned back to what they were doing.
Jackson sat there, not sure what had just happened. There was a part of him that was relieved but another part that left him with a bad feeling. Her entire demeanor had shifted in a little more than an hour. She hadn’t given him any idea that she was planning to leave her position.
He shook it off, grabbed his briefcase and started out. Whatever her reason, he concluded, pushing through the glass door, it was probably for the best.
That last scene in the cafeteria was a little too dramatic for his taste. Meanwhile, he was going to have to find another assistant. He’d speak to the dean in the morning. Next time he was going to stick with his gut and get a guy.