Sacred Ground
Adrienne Ellis Reeves

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is lovingly dedicated to

Lee Caswell Ellis

4/6/27–12/21/05

My thanks to Edward Darby, Sr., for his intimate knowledge of rural South Carolina and sharing it with me. My appreciation also to Alice Stamps who provided me with essential information about South Carolina woodlands and forests.

In the middle of this work, my brother became ill and later died. The fact that the book eventually reached the publisher is due in no small part to the patience and efficiency of my daughter, Debbie Reeves, to whom I give my heartfelt gratitude.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Epilogue

Chapter 1

The rain poured down as it could only in March. Steadily, persistently, undeviatingly, straight down as if it would never cease, taking all of the warmth, liveliness and hope out of the air.

Gabriel Bell sat glumly, his right hand barely touching the steering wheel of his Lexus, wasting the phenomenally over-priced gas with which he’d filled the tank this morning. The car inched forward, one vehicle in the endless line stretching in front of him heading south on the New Jersey Turnpike.

“Some beginning to what’s supposed to be our big adventure,” his fifteen-year-old brother, Drew, complained, moving restlessly in the passenger seat.

“Yesterday at breakfast we talked about leaving today,” Gabe said. “Remember that?” He slid a glance at the man-child next to him.

“Yeah. So?”

“You had nothing to do after school but finish packing your things so we could get an early start this morning. Early. No later than eight, we agreed.”

“I couldn’t help it if the guys came over to say goodbye, and I did some stuff while they were there.” Drew was defensive.

“Right. Then you fell into bed and didn’t get up until seven and spent the rest of the morning running around the apartment finding your CDs and video games.” Gabe kept his tone mild. No point in getting himself upset over this skirmish. What he intended to do was win the war.

“How’d I know it was gonna take so long to find things?” Drew said indignantly.

“There was no rain this morning when we were supposed to leave. So deal with it, Drew. Complaining won’t make the rain stop or the traffic go any faster.”

Maybe he should’ve taken the Garden State Parkway. It was definitely more scenic but I-95 would take them the straightest way from New York City to South Carolina. To a place he’d never seen and, as Drew had said, to their big adventure.

As if the very idea of thinking about it energized the atmosphere, there was a sudden acceleration in the line of cars and they resumed their usual highway speed.

“Yes!” Drew said and sat up straight.

“It’s still raining, so there must have been an accident holding everyone up. Watch for it on your side.” Anticipating Drew’s reaction if he did see signs of an accident, Gabe moved into the far right lane.

A few miles down the road, Drew exclaimed, “Man! Look at that. Someone must have been hurt really bad!”

The whole passenger side of a small blue car was smashed against a guardrail, apparently pushed there by a large SUV that skidded on the wet pavement. The ground was littered with broken glass around which flares were set. A highway patrolman was sitting in his car out of the rain and writing in his notebook.

“How’d they get mangled together like that?” Drew asked, turning back to get one more look.

“I’m not sure, but it looks like the SUV was trying to pass but he skidded on the wet road and hydroplaned into the blue car.”

“They prob’ly had to get more than one ambulance,” Drew said thoughtfully.

Although Drew said nothing more, Gabe noticed that he kept glancing over toward the speedometer.

“What?” Gabe asked.

“It’s still raining hard and I was wondering how fast you’re going,” Drew replied.

“You’ve got a right to ask. It’s your life as well as mine. I’m staying at fifty until we get past this rain.”

The rain began to lighten a little at the same time that Gabe saw a restaurant exit coming up.

“Let’s get off here for lunch and maybe by the time we’re through, the rain will have gone.”

“Sounds good to me.” Drew was always ready to eat.

A busload of people began entering the restaurant, cutting between Drew and Gabe. They milled around chattering and looking at a few craft items for sale in the lobby. Gabe couldn’t see Drew for a few minutes. A group of men moved and there he was, looking anxious.

“What happened to you? I thought maybe you went back to the car,” he said.

Gabe slung an arm around his shoulder for a second. “I got caught in the middle of this crowd. Let’s try to beat them or we’ll be here all afternoon.”

Drew was the prime responsibility in Gabe’s life now, and every facet of his young brother’s existence had become magnified for Gabe since the death of their parents two years earlier. Pop had caught the flu, which had turned into pneumonia, and in a few short weeks it had taken him away. While the family was still dazed by the suddenness of his death, Ma had gone the same way before the winter was out, after being caught in the freezing rain while waiting for the bus.

When Gabe had come out of the cloud of grief that had overwhelmed him, his first thought of the future had been gratitude that he hadn’t married Olivia Eagles after all. It had been a close call but he knew she wasn’t the kind of woman who would have welcomed a teenage boy into their home. Single and unencumbered, Gabe had vowed to make Drew the center of his care.

Although he was twice Drew’s age, Gabe had loved his little brother from the moment his mother had laid him in Gabe’s arms at the hospital.

“You’ve always wanted a brother.” She was smiling and teary-eyed at the same time. “I expect you to take care of him.”

Gabe thought of their mother as he and Drew were ushered to a table in the restaurant and served the soup of the day that their waitress had recommended.

“I like soup when the weather’s like this, but this sure isn’t like the chicken-noodle soup Ma used to make.”

“That’s why I never get soup in a restaurant,” Drew said. “This chili isn’t so bad.”

“Ma would’ve loved this trip. She always wanted to go places,” Gabe said.

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s funny that Pop never did, but it’s because of him that we’re going to South Carolina.”

It had been on another afternoon three weeks ago that Gabe had received a call while he was deciding between using the ground round steak for hamburgers or for meatballs to go with spaghetti. Drew was supposed to check in any moment; Gabe would let him call it.

The phone rang. “You want hamburgers or spaghetti and meatballs for dinner?” Gabe asked.

“I prefer spaghetti and meatballs as long as there’s herbs and garlic in the sauce,” a man said. “Is this Mr. Gabriel Bell?”

“Sorry. I was expecting my brother to call. I’m Gabe Bell. What can I do for you?”

“My name is Jasper Moultrie, Mr. Bell. I’m an attorney and I have information to give you regarding your great-grandfather’s will. When would it be convenient for me to see you?”

“Whose will?” Was this a new kind of scam? Gabe wondered. At work, in the papers and on television, there were always warnings about the ingenious ways con artists were thinking up to get your money. He didn’t know anything about a great-grandfather.

“Ezekiel Bell was his name. He had a son named Edward who had a son named Booker. Your father, Mr. Bell.”

Moultrie’s voice, quiet yet authoritative, made Gabe sit down at the table with the phone, prepared to give serious attention to what the attorney was saying.

“How do you know all this?” he demanded.

“That’s what I’d like to explain to you, Mr. Bell. I could come to your office on Chambers but I think you’d prefer hearing the details and asking questions in the privacy of your home. When may I come over?”

He even knows where I work, Gabe thought. Maybe he’d better see this guy right away in case there really is something to this will he should know about. “How about tonight? Is that too soon?” he asked.

“That’s fine. Shall we say eight-thirty?”

“Fine. I live at—”

“I know the address, Mr. Bell. See you soon.”

“You’re in someone’s will? Does that mean you’ll get some money?” Drew asked when Gabe told him of the call.

“I don’t know what it means, Drew. I just hope it’s all aboveboard.”

At eight-thirty, as Gabe let Mr. Moultrie in, shook hands, introduced him to Drew and offered him a seat, he felt his skepticism fade away. Tall, his white hair setting off his dark brown skin, his features regular, and his dark eyes shadowed with glasses showing a world of experience, his presence nevertheless displayed a liking for people and a willingness to smile.

“I haven’t been in an apartment like this for years.” He glanced appreciatively at the high ceiling, the built-in bookcases, the tall window overlooking the boulevard, the long hall through which he’d entered. The dark blue sofa and the upholstered chairs were well-worn and comfortable. “They don’t build them like this anymore,” he said.

“I was raised here, so was Drew, and when our parents died, I moved back in.”

“Wise move. I only get to New York occasionally when I have business here. I live in Charlotte, North Carolina. You ever been there?” His glance took in both Gabe and Drew, who were sitting on the sofa.

“Never been south, except once I went to D.C.,” Gabe said. Drew shook his head negatively.

A little smile touched Moultrie’s mouth as he placed his black briefcase on the floor. He settled himself in his chair and straightened his pant legs. His hands steepled, his eyes smiling, he began his story.

“If it’s all right with you, Mr. Bell and Drew, I’ll give you some background on this will. Your great-great-grandfather was Ezekiel Bell Sr. His mother and father had been slaves but he was born free in South Carolina in 1870. All his life he heard stories from his father, Elijah, his grandfather Moses, and other elders who talked about a place that was special to the Africans in that part of South Carolina who’d come from the same area in West Africa. They called it ‘De Land.’ It held a treasure that was linked to where they’d come from.”

He paused but there were no questions. Gabe and Drew made an attentive audience.

“‘De Land,’ they said, was watched over by ‘sperrits’ and the men in the Bell family beginning with Elijah.”

“Did they know exactly where that place was?” Drew asked.

“Yes, but it didn’t belong to them. Getting hold of it and then keeping it was the responsibility of Elijah and his descendants.”

This sounded too much like a script for a Harrison Ford movie to Gabe for him to take it seriously. At least Drew was entertained.

“The stories caught the imagination of your great-grandfather, Ezekiel Bell Jr., and he asked questions about it. He was a smart boy and in his belief, he made ‘De Land’ his life work. He learned to read and write, earned money any way he could and saved every cent. His intuition had led him to ‘De Land.’He’d dreamed about it and recognized it when he saw the remnants of this old plantation in Orangeburg County. He married Sarah who was a hard worker like him and understood his dream.

“Every few years they’d purchase more of the land. As the years went by he found several ways to increase his income. He bought a few acres to raise cows, hogs and even chickens for the market. He learned all about building houses when he built his own, and hired himself out to build for others.

“Meanwhile he and Sarah had a family—Elizabeth, Robert and Edward. Finally he’d purchased fifteen acres, and the special woodland the Africans had spoken about belonged to him.”

“I don’t get it,” Drew said. “What made it special? Did it have oil or something?” He sat forward, his hands on his knees.

“What made it special for him,” Mr. Moultrie explained, “was how the older Africans had felt something mystical about it. They used words he didn’t understand. His father said they meant sacred ground and they said it with reverence.”

Sacred ground? Superstition or a legendary folktale, Gabe had to admit the attorney was spinning an interesting story at this point.

Mr. Moultrie continued. “There was another fact about this sacred ground that was unique. Ezekiel had felt a calling to purchase the property. He knew he couldn’t sell it but had to hold it in trust for a particular person.” He paused.

Gabe felt the hair rise on his arms as Moultrie’s calm gaze rested on him.

“You, Mr. Bell.”

Gabe tried to speak but his mouth was dry. “Me?” he croaked. Drew was looking at him with the same astonishment he was feeling. “How could it be me?”

“Because it had to be passed to the eldest grandson in the sixth generation who carried the Bell name.”

“How am I the sixth?” Gabe was trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

“Elijah Bell began the saga. His son, Ezekiel Sr., was the second generation and Ezekiel Jr. was third. Edward was fourth. Booker, your father, was fifth, and that makes you the sixth.”

“What happened to all the other children who must have been born in six generations?”

“Some died single, some had only daughters, not sons. Do you know of any relatives you have on your father’s side?” Moultrie asked.

Gabe shook his head. “Ma had four sisters and five brothers and most of them had children. Pop always said that was enough family for anyone. When I asked Pop about his family he said there was only his brother, Jacob, but I didn’t even meet him until after Drew was born. He was single and teased Pop about having two sons, one for Pop and one for him,” Gabe reminisced affectionately. Uncle Jake had been a favorite in the family.

He couldn’t sit still any longer. “Excuse me, Mr. Moultrie. Would you care for something to drink? Coffee, tea, juice, water?”

“Water’s fine.”

Gabe took bottled water from the refrigerator, poured some over a glass of ice for Moultrie and grabbed two bottles for him and Drew. He felt like he was in Oz and had to anchor himself with something familiar before he heard the rest of this bizarre story.

“Let me tell you how I came to be involved with this matter,” Moultrie said after he’d sipped some water. “Then we’ll get to the details of the will. I was born and raised in Swinton, South Carolina. Went to university in Columbia and to law school in Philadelphia. Eventually I established my law practice in Charlotte, North Carolina. Once when I happened to be home, I had a surprise call from Ezekiel Bell asking me to do some business for him, which I did. Six months later he told me that had been a test to see if I’d kept his confidence.”

“He didn’t trust you?” Gabe asked.

That brought a smile from Moultrie. “As you get to know more about your great-grandfather, you’ll see he had a subtle mind. Apparently he’d listened to see if there was any whisper about the transaction in the community. From then on I carried out all his business. He said he didn’t want a local person and that he felt fortunate to find a person from Swinton who worked elsewhere.”

Gabe had been doing some estimates in his head “He must have been very old.”

“One hundred years old when he died several weeks ago.”

“A hundred!” Drew whistled silently. “I’ve never known anyone that old.”

“South Carolina has a lot of centenarians, Drew, as you’ll see,” Moultrie said.

“Any question about the soundness of his mind?” There was nothing casual about Gabe’s question.

“None at all. In his late years, he wasn’t as physically active as he’d been but he never lost his mental faculties, I can assure you. In any case, the bulk of the will had been written when he was in his seventies. There were only a few items to add later, primarily about the identity of the heir after I had traced you down at his request.” He paused and turned his benign glance on Gabe and Drew. “Any more questions? No?”

He took several papers from his briefcase. Drew’s eyes followed his every movement.

“As these documents go, Mr. Bell’s will is quite brief. He insisted on only the specifics and omitting as much legalese as possible.”

Gabe was motionless as Moultrie read the will, glancing up every now and then.

“‘I, Ezekiel Bell Jr. of the city of Swinton, the state of South Carolina, do hereby make, publish and declare the following as and for my last will and testament, hereby revoking all wills and codicils made by me at any time, and directing that my executor, or substitute executor, serve without bond.

“‘First, I nominate, and appoint my attorney, Jasper Lee Moultrie, as executor of this, my last will and testament, and direct that he pay my funeral expenses and just debts as soon after my decease as possible.

“‘Second, I give and bequeath to my great-grandson, Gabriel Riley Bell of New York City, New York, for the period of three full months as soon after my death as possible, my fifteen acres of land, which include my home at 305 North Grayson Road outside of Swinton, South Carolina.

“‘Third, Gabriel Riley Bell is to reside in the furnished house at 305 North Grayson Road and to examine its contents closely.

“‘Fourth, Gabriel Riley Bell is to explore, discover and carry out the treasured destiny this property has held for six generations.

“‘Fifth, Gabriel Riley Bell may not rent, lease or sell any portion of this particular property.

“‘Sixth, Jasper Lee Moultrie, executor, will provide living expenses of two thousand dollars a month for the three months.

“‘Seventh, upon the satisfactory completion by Gabriel Riley Bell of Article Four, the executor will so declare and will then deliver to Gabriel Riley Bell the entire estate consisting of the aforesaid fifteen acres of land in Swinton, South Carolina, the house and contents that are on the property, and any other parcels of land belonging to the estate at the time of my death.

“‘Eighth, I give and bequeath to Gabriel Riley Bell the sum of one hundred thousand dollars with one half to be held in trust for his brother, Drew Booker Bell, until his twenty-fifth birthday.

“‘In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and seal on this eighth day of June 2005.

“‘Signed and declared by the said Ezekiel Bell Jr., and for his last will and testament in the presence of us, who at his request, in his presence, and in the presence of each other, have hereunto subscribed our names as witnesses.

“‘Marshall G. Hamilton of Swinton, South Carolina, Jane Ann Hamilton of Swinton, South Carolina, Jasper Lee Moultrie of Charlotte, North Carolina.’”

Moultrie silently handed Gabe a copy of what he’d read. As he reached for it and settled back on the couch, Gabe felt his breath return. He’d been oxygen starved. Drew scooted next to him so he could read the will that talked about fifty thousand dollars for him. He had to see the words to believe it.

“So I’m to go to Swinton and live in this house on the fifteen-acre property for three months during which time you’ll give me living expenses of two thousand a month?” Gabe asked, his eyes still on the document.

“That is correct.”

“That’s clear. What I don’t get is the fourth article. As a result, I assume, of examining the contents of the house, I’m supposed to discover and carry out a treasured destiny that’s been waiting or hidden for six generations?”

His voice rose in disbelief as he repeated the words Ezekiel had written. “What does that mean?” His gaze fixed itself on Moultrie but his expression said that whatever Moultrie answered it would be subject to disbelief.

“Sounds like it means buried treasure.” Drew, excited at the prospect of finding a cache of jewels, clutched Gabe’s arm.

“I can’t tell you, Mr. Bell,” Moultrie said sympathetically. “I do know that most of what you’ll need is in the house so as soon as you get there…it’d be wise to thoroughly search each room. Drew can help you.”

“But what are we to look for? A map, a key, a box, or what?”

“Mr. Bell said you’ll know it when you see it.”

There was another provision stipulated in the will that was perplexing to Gabe. “Why the sixth generation? That’s a long time to wait. Supposing there hadn’t been a grandson with the name Bell in the sixth generation?”

“When I asked the same question, Mr. Bell said the oldest African had foretold it.”

Other questions that Gabe or Drew brought up usually came back in one way or another to the same vague statement. Gabe began to think Moultrie knew as little about this “treasured destiny” as he did. Great-Grandfather had trusted even his attorney just so far with ancient secrets.

There were only three issues to be decided about the will as far as Gabe was concerned. If he took the whole matter seriously, as he decided to do after Moultrie left.

The first involved his job with the state in the accounting department. He’d gone there right out of college and was content to do a competent job that would advance him up the ladder in a reasonable number of years before retirement. Consultation with human resources and his department head resulted in an agreement that he could take two of the weeks as vacation and the rest as a leave of absence without pay but without a loss of benefits. Since benefits was his main concern because of Drew, Gabe was satisfied.

The second issue was that Drew had been slacking off in school and worrying Gabe seriously for the first time because of the group of kids he’d begun hanging with.

Intervention of some sort was called for and Gabe had been racking his brains as to what it should be. There was no way he was going to allow Drew to slide further down the slippery slope of disengagement from school.

Three months away from his school would at least change his environment. Gabe went to the school counselor, who helped him make arrangements for lessons and exams.

The third issue was the least important to Gabe. He asked himself again if he would be searching for gold. But it would be an adventure unlike any that had come his way in his uneventful life, and it would help Drew.

The day he’d notified Moultrie that he’d arranged matters with his job, the attorney urged him to get to Swinton as quickly as possible. “Remember the house is fully furnished. All you and Drew need are clothes and personal items like your computer, books and music.”

A week later they were on their way with a check for two thousand dollars in Gabe’s wallet.

Chapter 2

“This is a whole lot better’n yesterday.” Drew drummed the side window in rhythm with the beat from the radio.

“You can say that again,” Gabe agreed.

His spirits had been rising ever since they’d awakened to see clear skies from the windows of the Richmond motel where they’d decided to stay when, instead of the rain stopping as Gabe had prophesied, it had increased right up through the early dark. After breakfast they’d gone through Virginia and were now in South Carolina.

The total mileage from New York to Swinton was around seven hundred miles and Gabe could have made it in one long drive. Friends of his had boasted of driving more than that, stopping only for brief naps by the roadside. That wasn’t his style. He wanted to see where he was going and what the land was like. South Carolina was certainly different from any place he’d seen before.

The sun shone through huge trees whose branches arched over long approaches to houses set back on lots, and it shone as well through tall, straight trees that marked the boundaries of fields.

Some of the fields were already green. Some were still brown.

“What’s that white stuff over there?” Drew pointed to a large field where dry brown plants had balls of white sticking to them.

Gabe slowed the car. “That’s cotton.”

“It grows like that?” Drew looked at him disbelievingly.

“You’ve seen pictures of it in books and on TV, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, but—” He turned to look again at the fluffy balls.

“But it’s different when you see it in real life, isn’t it? I wish Pop had told us about his South Carolina people. Those unknown relatives of ours had seen cotton fields. Maybe they’d even gone along those rows picking and filling sacks to be taken to the cotton mills. Or maybe they worked in the tobacco fields. Remember those funny-shaped tobacco barns we saw?”

Gabe hoped Drew was picking up information that he’d remember. For himself, he was ashamed of his own ignorance. If nothing else good came out of this adventure, his New York insularity had been revealed to him. There was much more to be seen and to be appreciated beyond the five boroughs of Manhattan, Brooklyn, the Bronx, Queens and Staten Island.

They passed small towns where there’d be rural sections where empty houses and other structures had fallen in upon themselves and were covered with vines. He’d read somewhere that the green plant that clambered up trees and smothered them was a parasite called kudzu. It was extremely difficult to get rid of. He noticed there were a number of houses with trees, shrubs and flowers around them, but the houses were standing alone except for a garage and perhaps a shed. He wondered who lived in those dwellings and what their lives were like without other people close by.

The contrast between the South Carolina countryside and what he saw daily in Manhattan was fascinating to him.

Signs told him he was coming up on Florence where he knew he’d have to feed the hungry gas tank. Might as well feed his always-hungry brother, too, before he began complaining. He could leave I-95 here and pick up 20 West, get a glimpse of what Columbia, the capital, was like, then go southwest and make his way to Swinton.

“Are we gonna eat anytime soon?” Drew asked right on schedule.

“We’re stopping in Florence for gas and we’ll eat there.” He filled the tank at the first Shell station he saw then drove away.

“Hey! There’s a McDonald’s right next door,” Drew pointed out.

“I see it. Let’s go someplace a little nicer. Aren’t you tired of fast food?”

Drew shrugged and began looking earnestly on both sides of the street. “I just wanna eat sometime soon,” he grumbled.

They came to a small shopping area that had a homey look with its trees, benches, and turn-of-the-

century lamp fixtures.

“There’s a restaurant next to that bookstore,” Drew said. Gabe turned in and found a parking place. He took his new casual jacket from the backseat and slipped it on. After they visited the men’s room and came out into the nicely decorated dining area, Gabe felt a sense of excitement. This was the final leg of their trip. Their next stop would be Swinton.

Business was brisk, with a stream of people at the buffet counter. Many of the tables were already occupied and there was a buzz of conversation throughout.

“The food looks good,” Drew said as he picked up a tray and silverware. “I’m sure hungry.”

“Get whatever you want.” Gabe was behind Drew and had already decided on the steak and baked potato combination, a green salad and cherry pie. A lady farther down the line was having some problem at the cash register. As Gabe leaned a little forward to see what was happening, his attention was caught by the profile of a young black woman just past the third person beyond Drew.

She turned slightly to look at the vegetable casserole she’d passed and seemed to be making up her mind whether to order it.

Her skin, the color of creamy milk chocolate, was flawless and the contour of her face seemed perfectly designed. He couldn’t see her eyes but a turquoise earring sparkled in the lobe of a delicate ear and matched the jacket she was wearing.

As she shifted her shoulder bag, her left hand came into view. It was bare. I’ve got to see her face, Gabe thought.

The line began to move swiftly as a second cashier was added. Drew and Gabe had to answer questions from the server about their steaks and by the time they’d received their meal, the young lady was nowhere to be seen.

“I don’t see an empty table in this section,” Drew commented, and led the way around a partition into a smaller area where the tables and chairs were bunched together.

Gabe was suddenly struck from behind by a tray and felt something damp landing on the left arm of his new jacket.

“What the—” he began and turned while trying to keep his tray of food upright.

The girl in the turquoise jacket was trying to keep the rest of her food from sliding off her tilted tray while apologizing at the same time.

“I’m so sorry.” Big hazel eyes glanced up at Gabe and a deep flush reddened her face.

“Here, let me clean the potato salad off of your sleeve. Someone bumped me and before I knew it my tray hit you. I’m so sorry.”

She needed her hands free but there wasn’t an empty table nearby. Among the diners watching the fiasco was a woman who took the tray and offered a clutch of napkins.

Gabe wanted to be anyplace but where he was. Everyone was looking at them as the girl bent and wiped at the oily salad, making the spot worse than it had been. Where was Drew? He could at least come and get Gabe’s tray so he could move.

“It’s all right,” he told the girl. “Don’t bother with it.” Gabe didn’t think she even heard him, she was so upset as she kept rubbing.

“Little accident?” Drew said with a broad grin as he came up beside Gabe and took his tray. He rarely had the opportunity to see his big brother lose his cool.

Annoyed at being the center of this kind of attention, Gabe captured the girl’s hands. They were slender, soft and smooth.

“It’s only a cotton jacket and it’ll wash out,” he said firmly, letting go of her hands and taking a step away.

Gabe saw she was nearly as tall as he when she straightened up to discard the damp napkins. The profile he’d seen of her at the counter hadn’t prepared him for the interesting tilt of her eyes, the generous shape of her mouth, the nose that fit perfectly with her other features and above all, a sense of strength and determination. No wonder it had been so hard to make her stop her cleaning job.

“I’ll be glad to have the jacket cleaned,” she said. Her voice was businesslike as she met his eyes but her face still had a rosy flush.

“That isn’t necessary, but thanks.” Wanting to put an end to the already overlong scene, Gabe turned away and walked over to the table where Drew was waiting.

“Eat your food so we can get out of here,” he growled as Drew welcomed him with a smirk. “I’m tired of being the afternoon’s entertainment!”

He’d wanted to meet the girl in the turquoise jacket, but did it have to be a disaster?

If this muddle was an indication of things to come in the next three months, he might as well turn the car around and head back to New York.

A few hours later, Gabe was convinced this might be one of the weirdest decisions he’d ever made in his thirty-five years as he slowed his car to a mere crawl, trying to avoid the potholes in the one-lane country road, which was already guilty of layering what used to be his sparkling black Lexus with dust.

The fact that the afternoon sun held a softness that he’d never experienced in New York City in March didn’t make him feel any better, and even though it illuminated spectacular trees, which stood like ancient sentinels, their branches arched over long approaches to houses both stately and modest, his earlier enjoyment waned each time his tire hit another pothole.

When he’d seen the detour sign a few miles back, he’d had no idea it meant going from a four-lane highway onto seven miles of dirt road. Surely this couldn’t last much longer. Glancing in his rearview mirror, he saw there was a line of cars behind him. If they were in a hurry it was just too bad. He wasn’t taking a chance on injuring his car by going any faster than the fifteen miles per hour his speedometer was registering. Now he understood why there’d been a hand-printed Drive Carefully warning taped to the metal detour notice.

Up ahead he thought he saw another bright orange sign. He accelerated to twenty miles per hour and sure enough, after a slow and careful turn to avoid another large pothole, he was able to get back on the highway.

When they’d left Florence, Drew had grumbled, “I wish we could’ve stayed on I-95 and gone to Florida. At least it has Disney World. But what’s South Carolina got?”

“Lots of alligators. They used to fascinate you.”

“That’s when I was a little kid.” Drew twisted his mouth in scorn.

“Fort Sumter is outside of Charleston. That’s where the Civil War began.”

“Who cares about history? Anyway, we’re not going to Charleston.” Drew turned away from Gabe and fidgeted around in the passenger seat until he found a comfortable place to put his long frame, and in a few minutes had gone to sleep for the umpteenth time since they had left Manhattan and Gabe had pointed the Lexus south.

Gabe was trying to hold on to the notion of adventure this South Carolina trip might have for him and Drew, when he saw a green sign on the right: Swinton, Next Exit.

His heart beat faster and he touched Drew on the shoulder.

“Wake up, Drew. We’re almost there!”

Drew sat up. “It’s about time,” he grouched, trying to hide his excitement as he rubbed his eyes.

Gabe took the exit smoothly and paused at the light. Seeing nothing on the left except more fields, he turned right when the light changed. Cars passed him on the left while he took in the scattering of gas stations and small businesses interspersed with modest frame houses that hadn’t yet been overtaken by the town as it expanded toward the highway.

“Today is March 4,” Gabe observed. “Look at that sign by the bank. What does it say the temperature is?”

“Fifty-five degrees at 3:00 p.m.”

“You have any idea what the temperature at home is?”

“Yeah. I heard on the radio it’s 30 degrees and cloudy,” Drew said.

Although it wasn’t the intense yellow of a summer sun, the light that fell on the brick library, the two-story town hall, the steeple-white Baptist church and the residences that began to appear had a pleasant glow.

“I like this better,” Gabe said. Cold weather had to be endured if you were living in Manhattan but he’d always looked forward to its departure.

“Where do people down here swim?” Drew turned to look at a group of several brick buildings that, according to the sign, comprised Swinton High School.

“The high school might have its own pool and there’s probably one in the park. I saw some lakes on the map, and of course you know we’re not that far from the Atlantic Ocean.” Gabe glanced at Drew to see his reaction.

“How far?” Drew’s expression didn’t change but Gabe heard the interest in his voice.

“I don’t know exactly, but you can look it up on the map when we get to the house,” he said casually.

After a few more blocks Gabe made a right turn. This was undoubtedly Swinton’s shopping center, with clothing, furniture and other stores, as well as a movie house and several restaurants on both sides of the street.

A blue sign with an H in the middle of it indicated that Swinton had a hospital.

A left turn put Gabe on Grayson Road, where he crossed the railroad tracks. The character of the area changed. The houses were farther apart, accommodating sizable gardens and fruit trees. Chickens roamed some yards and four horses looked up from a field as the car went by.

“Aren’t we looking for an address on Grayson Road?” Drew asked.

“Yep. Moultrie said it was 305 North Grayson Road.”

“That means it’s in the country where they’ve got horses and cows,” Drew wailed.

Gabe looked at the speedometer. “I doubt it’s country in the way you mean it.”

The road sloped down around a bend and over a bridge shaded by limbs of tall trees, which grew on both sides. Up a little hill and the houses began again, some small, some large, with neatly trimmed lawns. Gabe stopped as a yellow school bus slowed to a stop and the door opened to let out a string of elementary-age students.

At the light, the bus turned the corner and after another block or two, a church, a barbershop, a hardware store and a variety of other small business establishments filled the streets. As he passed each corner Gabe looked to the right and left, noting that the area was larger than it first appeared.

The people going in and out of the stores were nearly all black, as were the drivers that passed him and lifted a finger in greeting.

At the third light, Grayson Road branched right and became North Grayson Road.

“We must be almost there,” Drew said. “It should be in the third block.”

On the corner of the first block was the Grayson Community Church, an impressive brick building with a smaller structure at the rear. More houses clustered together in the first two blocks. In the middle of the third block Gabe stopped the car at the curb.

He got out and walked around to where Drew was already standing. Awestruck, they stood together looking at 305 North Grayson Road, their home for the next three months.

Chapter 3

An imposing house occupied the center of the block. Five wide steps led up to the deep porch with its four stately columns. Two large windows on either side of a substantial-looking front door were matched by four smaller ones on the second floor.

The house gleamed dazzling white in the late-afternoon sun and its glistening black shutters completed a picture that caught at Gabe’s imagination. It had never occurred to him that his great-grandfather’s house would be so grand.

He wondered who cared for the lawn, the shapely shrubs and the flower beds. The two-car garage was on the left of the house and painted the same white with black shutters on its two small windows.

Stunning as the house was, Gabe saw that it was just the beginning of the property. Surrounding the lot on which the house stood were acres of trees. The growth was thick and the trees looked tall and healthy. Gabe had no idea how many acres he was looking at but the entire property in its prime condition spelled money.

“All this is yours?” Drew asked in disbelief.

“Seems unreal, doesn’t it?” Gabe just looked, trying to take it all in. “But that’s what we’re here to check out.” He felt as bewildered as his brother.

They walked up the five steps and across the shiny porch to the door. Gabe selected the new key on his key ring and hoped it would work. What an irony it would be if after two days of driving he wouldn’t be able to get in the house. The key grated at first but on the second try the door swung wide.

He pushed open the screen and stepped into a dark hall. Automatically he felt on the wall to his right and snapped on a switch. Light poured down from a chandelier, revealing a wide hall with hardwood flooring, a winding staircase and a room opening off each side. There were also small tables and a closet.

Drew went around Gabe to explore the room on the right. “Look, Gabe, he had one of those old-fashioned sofas like Grandma had.”

“They were very popular in Grandma’s day. It was a sign of class if you could afford one. You see how long they lasted.” There were several chairs that complemented the sofa, as well as tables with heavily shaded lamps.

“Looks like something from a museum, not a room you’d be comfortable in,” Drew commented.

“This was the parlor and it was only used for formal visiting. It’s not like our family room. Let’s see what’s across the hall.”

“This is more like it.” Drew zoomed in on the television that had its own corner, picked up the remote control and pushed the power button. The screen lit up and Drew scanned all the channels. “He’s got cable. Cool,” he said.

The room was a combination of old, heavy chairs, a massive bookcase, a contemporary love seat, floral draperies that let in the light when pulled and an oriental rug in the middle of the floor.

The item Gabe liked best was the fireplace. He could imagine how cozy the room would be in the winter with the drapes closed and a warm fire lighting up the place while you looked at some show on TV or read a book or had a conversation with friends while music played in the background. He looked around again. Was there a radio or CD player? If not, he and Drew could get one.

Opening off from the living room was a dining room with a table and chairs for eight, a china closet and a matching sideboard.

“This looks almost like the china closet we have only it’s bigger.” Drew traced the wood framing the door and Gabe knew he was thinking of their mother and how much she had treasured the dishes given to her from her family. She’d said once or twice that someday those pieces would belong to Gabe’s wife or Drew’s wife. She was keeping them for her daughters-in-law.

Gabe moved over to stand next to Drew. “Our great-grandmother probably has some china in here that was passed down to her. Just like Ma.”

The dining room led into the kitchen, which had a wide window over the sink. Gabe pulled the shade up to reveal a large room painted a soft yellow. It held an electric stove, a large refrigerator, a dishwasher, a kitchen table with four chairs and a small TV on a bar.

A stall shower and toilet had been put in at the end of the hall near the back door. The washer and dryer were nudged into a corner separated by a partial wall from the bath facilities.

“All the bedrooms must be upstairs,” Drew said. “Looks like they put one down here just for convenience.”

“When Great-Grandfather built this house it was thought proper to put bedrooms on the second floor if you could afford a two-story house. The downstairs was public but the upstairs was private. Just for the family.” Gabe counted the steps as they went up. “It’s only sixteen steps. That won’t bother you.”

“’Course not,” Drew shrugged. “I’m just sayin’.”

Of the four bedrooms they saw, one had been turned into an office. There were files, maps, crowded bookshelves, a desk and a chair or two. All the rooms had clothes closets, dressers, big double beds, tables with lamps and knickknacks. The large bathroom had a long tub with claw feet.

Everything was of good quality and Gabe was impressed, yet always in the back of his mind he heard Jasper Moultrie say that he was to examine each room of the house closely. Otherwise he’d never find what Ezekiel Bell had left for him to discover.

When they explored the backyard they found a paved area which led to a neat shed that Gabe surmised held the lawn furniture.

A garden plot ran half the length of the garage.

“What’s all that stuff?” Drew looked at a few shoots pushing through the soil.

“Maybe you can find out and tell me,” Gabe said, “but I’m impressed. Maybe Great-Grandfather had someone take care of it, because what could a man who’d been one hundred when he died a few weeks ago do with a spade and a hoe?”

By unspoken consent they walked beyond the garden to where a wire fence closed in the rest of the land. The heavy six-foot fence was topped with barbed wire.

“He lived in this little old town almost in the country so what’s with all this barbed wire? I don’t get it. I think he must’ve been crazy. What’s in there other than those trees?”

The expression of bewilderment on Drew’s face was so much like their mother’s when something hadn’t made sense to her that Gabe had to swallow several times and question himself once more if he’d done the wise thing or if he’d been a little crazy, too, like Ezekiel, at whose command he now stood here with Drew.

There was a gate wide enough for a tractor or a truck to drive through. Gabe searched among his keys and found one that fit.

“Let’s go in and see if there’s anything other than grass and shrubs inside,” he said as he unlocked the gate and pushed it wide. There was nothing but grass, low shrubs edging the space and wildflowers. Drew went one way and Gabe went the other but it was the same all over with slight depressions here and there. They covered the space then met and sat down on a rough wooden bench that stood on the right side of the cleared plot.

Birdsong and soft breezes blowing through the woods were the only sound in the late-afternoon air. Yet there was no sense of isolation. In fact, Gabe glanced around once or twice, so strongly did he feel the presence of someone.

Probably it was Great-Grandfather, who’d surely sat on the bench many times contemplating his land.

“It’s like he had his own private park,” Drew said, eerily echoing Gabe’s feelings.

How could she have been so clumsy? Makima Gray was disgusted with herself. Mama used to say to let Makima do it because she didn’t drop things or stumble or spill food even when she was a little girl. All her life she’d been naturally agile and careful.

She didn’t know how to explain what had happened. In the restaurant, she’d glimpsed at the tall man in the black jacket behind her in the line. He’d been talking to the teenage boy in front of him. He’d also been staring at her.

The small area she usually sat in had been crowded and thoughtlessly she’d turned to its opposite side when disaster struck. Her long shoulder bag had hit against a chair, upsetting her balance, and the young girl behind her had knocked her elbow with a muttered “Sorry,” as she went by.

One dish slid off the tray before she could catch it. Feeling like an idiot, she’d looked up to apologize and met the startled glance of the tall man whose black jacket was now decorated with her potato salad.

Thoroughly humiliated, she heard herself babbling on and on as she wiped at the salad with napkins a lady handed her.

The man had stood, tense and silent, until someone relieved him of the tray he was still holding.

He grabbed her hands to stop her dabbing at the stain, refused her offer to clean the jacket and stalked away.

Every time she thought of the incident she mentally kicked herself, again. Thank goodness it had happened in Florence, not here where everyone knew everyone else. Otherwise she’d never live it down.

It was time to get on with her work and put her personal misadventure behind her. As it was, she’d lost her appetite for what was left of her meal and had left the restaurant immediately. She didn’t want to run into him in the parking lot. He was probably on his way to Florida and she’d never see him again.

She thought she hadn’t noticed his features but as she drove home she found that his broad jaw, firm mouth, wide forehead, expressive dark eyes and heavy eyebrows had painted a picture in her mind. He had cinnamon-brown skin and his fingers were long and well shaped.

There was no getting away from it. The man she’d made a fool of herself in front of had been very attractive.

She wasn’t supposed to be on duty on Saturday, which was why she’d gone to the morning conference in Florence, but when she’d arrived home, Stanley Worden, a volunteer, had called to ask if she could fill in for him.

“The only scheduled activity is an extra quilting bee. It seems the ladies were a little behind on their present project. They promised to be out by six. Can you do it, Makima?”

Stanley was usually dependable and she thought working at the center might help take her mind off Florence so she’d agreed.

She took a folder from her bottom drawer, one of many numbered from one to ten. All were entitled Grayson Medical Clinic.

She was working on number ten. Perhaps with recent events the tide had turned and she wouldn’t have to go on to number eleven. This was her goal and her daily prayer.

Her project had begun three years ago. Her youngest sister, June, eighteen years old, had been coming from Orangeburg where she and three friends had gone to watch a football game at South Carolina State. A drunk driver had hit the car on the passenger side where June had been sitting. Everyone else had minor injuries but she had suffered the full brunt of the impact.

The only local facility for such trauma had been the volunteer fire department, which did its best to stabilize June so she could be taken to the hospital in Swinton. The multicar midnight freight train delayed them still longer and June’s life had ebbed away by the time they arrived at the hospital.

Since that day Makima had made the establishment of a medical clinic in the Grayson community her priority so no one else would lose a life because the hospital was thirteen miles away on the other side of the railroad tracks, and where emergency care would be available twenty-four hours, seven days a week.

Her work had been tireless.

“Don’t you think that’s too big a project for Grayson to take on?” Gerald Smalls had asked when she’d sought his help.

Gerald was well-meaning and pleasant, but Makima knew he rarely volunteered for hard work. That hadn’t kept her from asking. He was well liked and had a lot of friends.

“It’s a big project, Mr. Smalls,” she’d replied. “All I want you to do is talk to your friends about it. We need to spread the word so when we have the first big rally, hundreds of people will come. You can do that, can’t you?”

“Be glad to, and I’ll get my wife to talk it up, too.”

The first rally was held three months after June’s death. Her father, Arthur Gray Jr., recalled how his father had settled in the rural area of Swinton at the turn of the century, arriving from Mississippi with his wife, Ruth.

“They were looking for a better place to make a living and raise a family. They believed in hard work and used their money wisely. They bought land when they could, educated their children and helped many other people who came here. This community was named Grayson after them and it grew and prospered. Now because of this tragedy, we have an opportunity to do what they did. Working hard as a community we can give Grayson its own medical clinic so that our people won’t have to go into Swinton for every health need, especially our senior citizens who don’t always have rides.”

Makima had asked business leaders, ministers and teachers to speak. After all the questions had been asked and answered, she closed the rally with comments from the families whose children had been in the car with June. She’d asked her mother to speak but wasn’t surprised when she said she couldn’t.

A second rally had been held four months later and this time her mother had been the first to speak.

“I want to thank you all for coming out this evening. This is a special day. I want to show you the first large deposit of money for the Grayson Medical Clinic. Here is the check from the insurance company.” She waved it in the air as the filled auditorium exploded in applause. When it was quiet again she explained the money would be put in a certificate of deposit so it could be earning interest during the time it would take to pull the project together. “This is our seed money and we have faith in God that He will water this seed until its work is finished.”

So much had happened since that day. Some of the grants Makima had written had paid off. Foundations had made some contributions and in Grayson itself, many organizations had held fund-raisers.

The reason she’d gone to Florence had been to speak to a possible donor following the public-health conference. Not only had the donor made excuses for refusing to give funds to the worthy cause, he’d also had the nerve to flirt with her. It’s no wonder she’d been easily upset at the restaurant.

The remaining hurdle for the project was land. She wanted a piece of Mr. Zeke’s property. She’d spent many hours with him and Miss Sarah, his wife, before she’d passed away. Miss Sarah had often called her “my little girl,” and had given her the run of the house.

As a child, Makima had followed Mr. Zeke around, and when she grew up they’d spent time together when he was working on one of his many projects. He’d explained to her how he’d fashioned parts of the house and how he loved working with wood.

When she’d started her drive for the clinic, she’d asked if she could use part of his property. “I have a feeling this is where it’s supposed to be,” she told him.

“We’ll see,” was his answer.

As the months went by she became deeply involved in the legal and medical requirements for a clinic, necessitating long conferences with a number of people in the business, and visiting the kind of clinic she thought would be appropriate. Many other community people helped, but she was the prime mover even though there was a board made up of Grayson residents.

Occasionally she’d talk with Mr. Zeke and mention the land she wanted to buy for the clinic. “The land’s not going anywhere,” he’d say.

The last time she’d spoken with him was a few weeks before his death. He hadn’t been ill and that time he’d said, “It’ll be here.” His death had been a shock to her and the rest of his friends. She’d been prepared to give him a down payment on the land and to get something in writing for the two of them. Now it was too late.

The whole town knew that his heir was a distant New York relative.

Makima was certain that she’d be able to negotiate with him because a New York man would have no interest in living in a small Southern place like Grayson.

She just wanted to be the first to meet him before anyone else had the same idea.

Chapter 4

The chirping of birds outside the window awakened Gabe with their unfamiliar sound. He never heard birds outside his apartment window. They must have been in his dreams.

Then he remembered. For the next three months he’d be awakening in his great-grandfather’s bedroom where he could look out of the window and see acres of land and trees.

Yesterday when they’d unpacked the car he’d chosen this room for himself in the hope that it and the office next door might give him some clue about what he was supposed to find.

Drew had taken the back bedroom and wondered where there’d be space for his belongings.

“The dresser drawers are full of blankets and the closet has clothes in it already,” he’d told Gabe.

“Put it all on the bed in the other room, because we’ll have to go through everything. Put it in neat piles, Drew. Don’t just throw the things on the bed,” he’d added, knowing his brother’s tendency to do just that.

Now he stretched, put his clasped hands beneath his head and contemplated his immediate future as he watched the trees moving gently in the March wind.

Had anyone told him a few months ago that he’d interrupt his and Drew’s lives to come to a nowhere town in South Carolina, he’d have told them they were out of their mind. Yet here he was, expected to look for something in this big house filled with the accumulated living of two people. He didn’t even know what it was he’d be looking for. How could he recognize it when he saw it? Drew thought it’d be a treasure like a chest of jewels or money, but Gabe didn’t think it would be anything so obvious.

Ezekiel’s mind was more subtle than that. His will had told Gabe that he was to explore, discover and carry out the treasured destiny the property had held for six generations. The word destiny was the most intriguing part of the whole business.

He’d marched along in his ordinary life not doing anything unusual from day to day, just going to his job, doing some volunteer work, hanging out with his friends Calvin and Webster, having two unsuccessful love affairs, and that was all until Pop and Ma had died. Their deaths had been the major events of his life and had left him with Drew and a new sense of responsibility.

Those were the facts of his existence so far. But destiny seemed to have a different meaning, like a course of action that had been determined way in the past and couldn’t be changed. You were chosen and you couldn’t escape it. You could turn and shake and wriggle and run but it caught up with you because it wasn’t happenstance. It was destiny.

Gabe felt the hair on his arms stand up. Destiny was a powerful word, a concept not to be taken lightly, he thought, as he lay in the bed of the man who had devised the term for him, Gabe.

Today was Sunday. He wasn’t a churchgoer except in the past when, on occasion, he’d escort his mother, but it might be a good idea to take Drew and walk over to the Grayson Community Church for its eleven o’clock service.

He needed to know the people here and what they could tell him about his great-grandfather. The best way to begin in this small town was at the church.

Also, he needed all the assistance he could get from whatever source if he was to carry out his destiny.

Makima got to church at ten-thirty. She loved being in the main auditorium by herself. She would sit in the corner, close her eyes and absorb the sense of peace and tranquility the sanctuary gave her. Her forbears had obtained the land and built the first church on this spot. Sometimes it seemed to her that she could feel their presence and their joy at how the church had grown to serve and nourish the community.

It was here that she’d finally come to terms with the senseless death of her sister. It was here that she came to pray over the knotty problems encountered with the clinic project. And it was here that she’d come for healing after Reggie had walked out of her life.

She hadn’t slept well last night. She’d dreamt that the flirt from the foundation had followed her to the restaurant and had tried to get her to sit at his table at the same time that the tall stranger in the black jacket had snatched their food away. She’d made herself wake up, got a drink of water, and eventually had gone back to sleep.

She hadn’t felt rested, so she’d paid special attention to her appearance as a way of getting herself in the proper mood for church. She dressed in a navy blue two-piece knit with white trim, navy pumps and perched a stylish confection of blue straw and ribbon on her hair.

Now as she sat with a bowed head, she prayed for a peaceful mind and spirit so she could ascertain God’s will for her next step about the clinic. Surely it was His will that such a facility be built, since its whole purpose was to serve the people. That being so, surely He would make it possible for her to obtain the land Mr. Zeke had promised her. She asked God’s blessing on her negotiations with the New York man, the heir to the property.

Makima lifted her head as she heard the first footsteps of people coming for the morning service. She slipped out the side door and made her way to the vestibule to her place as part of the welcoming committee whose function was to greet the worshippers.

An unbroken stream of people came up the steps where they were welcomed, handed a program and ushered through the double doors, which now stood open. Once the choir marched in they would be closed.

Makima greeted Miss Selina Moore, who was walking with a cane this morning. “Let me help you to your seat. Arthritis bad again?”

“It sure is, honey, but I wasn’t going to let it keep me from coming out. Your folks all right?” Miss Selina was a retired teacher who’d taught school when Makima’s father had been the principal.

“They’re fine. They had to go to Orangeburg today but I’ll let them know you asked about them.” She settled Miss Selina in her favorite seat and hurried back up the aisle.

The vestibule was crowded with almost-latecomers. Deacon Miller called her over.

“Makima, I want you to meet someone. This is Mr. Zeke’s great-grandson, Gabriel Bell, and his brother, Drew Bell. They’ve just arrived from New York.

“Gentlemen, this is Miss Makima Gray. She knows everything about our church and about the community, too.”

Makima felt the blood drain from her face as she met the eyes of the tall stranger from the restaurant. Only her iron will and pride kept her on her feet as she extended her hand to the Bells and made a polite response.

“Shall I show you to your seats?” she asked as people moved in behind them.

“No, thanks. We can seat ourselves,” the tall one said formally. He was evidently as shaken as she was. The boy was different. He was trying to keep from smiling and there was a sparkle in his eyes when he looked at her.

A few moments later the choir marched in and the vestibule doors were closed. Makima usually sat in the front of the church to be on hand if needed, but now she crept into the last row and was thankful to make it there before she collapsed.

She was numb.

How could this have happened? The man she’d spilled her salad on was the same man she had to persuade to sell her a piece of the land he’d inherited.

Was this some cosmic joke being played on her?

She opened her bag after a few minutes to look into her compact mirror. She was still colorless so she made quick repairs and settled down to try to compose herself. It was useless. All she could think about was that Gabriel Bell lived right here in Grayson and now that she’d seen him here, somehow she had the impression that he was not going to be the kind of person who took one look at Grayson, tucked in his tail and ran back to the city.

He’d looked solid in his dark gray suit, white shirt and blue tie. A man not interested in staying would hardly have made it his business to come to church the day after he’d arrived.

She wondered what he’d thought when he saw her and realized from Paul Miller’s introduction that she lived in Grayson.

She closed her eyes. Images have power, and probably his image of her kneeling at his feet and dabbing ineffectually at his jacket would always be with him and associated with the name of Makima Gray. She’d have to change that.

She began to look around for him and his brother. Had they sat in the central section or on one of the side sections? There they were just four rows in front of her in the central section.

Gabriel sat up straight; she liked that in a man. His dark hair was cut short, his neck well trimmed. When he’d looked at her, his eyes hadn’t been as cold as they’d been in the restaurant. His primary emotion, like hers, had seemed to be astonishment.

The church secretary read out the names of visitors and invited them to stand and be recognized. There was warm applause when Gabriel and Drew Bell stood. Later when the minister came to the pulpit he greeted them again.

“Mr. Ezekiel Bell was a founding member of this church,” he told them. “Everyone called him Mr. Zeke. He was known throughout the community as a caring man who would help anyone when help was needed. His wife, Miss Sarah, taught school here many years and together they contributed a great deal to Grayson. He was a magnificent craftsman, as his house will testify. He lived well beyond his three score and ten years, for which we are all grateful. He will be missed and we are happy to welcome you, his great-grandsons, to Grayson.”

When the service was over, people were going to want to meet him and his brother. It was her job to see that it happened.

Personal discomfort had to be put behind her. She was in God’s house doing God’s work.

When the final prayer was over, she straightened her shoulders and went to the aisle. She ignored Gabriel’s look of surprise.

“I’d like to take you around and introduce you to some people,” she said with a warm smile. “Miss Selina Moore wants to meet you because she was a dear friend of Miss Sarah’s and they taught school together.”

Mr. Nelson came next, then Mr. Weber who had the only drugstore in Grayson, and after them enough people that Makima felt it was time to move the Bells out of the church. Gabriel was friendly and relaxed but Drew was looking dazed. Maybe they didn’t do this in New York churches.

As they came out onto the steps, a stylish young woman flashed a smile at Gabriel, stuck out her hand and said, “Hi, I’m Alana Gray, Makima’s sister, and I’ve been waiting to meet you.” She was one of a small group of young people.

“Glad you waited,” Gabe said, returning the handshake and the smile. “I’m Gabe Bell and this is my brother, Drew.”

“I’m Bobby Gray, Makima’s brother,” said the man in the group. “And this is Valerie Wolf and her brother, Jeff.”

Valerie was a petite brown-skinned girl with a Cupid’s-bow mouth and long eyelashes. Jeff looked to be about Drew’s age.

Alana seemed to have taken over the conversation with her exuberance as she explained that they were all planning to go to a movie in Swinton later and then get something to eat and asked if Gabe, Drew and Makima wanted to join the party.

Gabe glanced at Drew and, seeing that he and Jeff were talking, excused himself but said Drew might want to go.

“I have another engagement,” Makima said. “I won’t be through in time to go with you. What’re you going to see?”

Jeff named the movie that had good reviews in the action-suspense category, and arrangements were made to pick Drew up at five o’clock.

Gabe turned to Makima. “Thanks for the introductions,” he said warmly. “I enjoyed it. I didn’t expect people to be so friendly. I’m looking forward to a real visit with Miss Selina so I can hear more about my great-grandmother.”

“Now that she’s retired she truly appreciates visitors, Mr. Bell.”

“Please call me Gabe. That’s what I go by at home.”

“Gabe,” Makima said, “could I make an appointment with you?” She shifted her bag from one hand to another.

He looked surprised. “Certainly. What about?”

“It’s a business matter and will take some time. Are you free tomorrow?”

He looked even more puzzled. “Just name a time that’s good for you and I’ll make myself available.”

Chapter 5

“Drew, I’m so proud of you, man,” Gabe said as they walked home from church. He nodded to a couple who spoke to them in passing.

“Why? What’d I do?” Drew said in surprise.

“You kept your cool when we were introduced to Miss Gray and acted like you’d never seen her.” Drew was growing too fast for the investment of a suit but he looked fine in his tan slacks and navy sport coat.

Drew’s face lit up and his laugh was one of pure youthful enjoyment. “Yeah, that was something, wasn’t it? She looked like she was gonna faint. I sure didn’t want to make her feel any worse, so I just played along with you.”

“You handled it like a man and I know she must have appreciated it.”

“I’m not a clunk all the time, you know.” Drew hid his pleasure with bluster.

“All that stuff the preacher said about Great-Grandfather was pretty cool. I kinda wish I could have met him.” There was a wistfulness in his voice that found an echo in Gabe.

They crossed the street and as they came to their block, Drew said, “This might not turn out to be too bad. I didn’t expect people to be so friendly. Jeff sounds like he’s okay. He’s just four months older’n me and he likes swimming, too.”

Gabe felt relieved. One of his concerns in coming to South Carolina had been about Drew finding friends. He’d have to check Jeff out, but meanwhile all systems seemed set to go.

“Your turn to fix lunch,” he reminded Drew as they were upstairs changing their clothes.

“Do I hafta?” Drew grouched automatically.

“Yeah, you have to. There’s plenty of food in the refrigerator. Call me when it’s ready.”

Gabe had decided to use this opportunity to introduce Drew to cooking responsibilities since he wouldn’t be going to school on a regular basis.

He’d made arrangements with Drew’s school for home studies and tests. He didn’t know how that was going to work out but at this point it wasn’t high on his list of priorities.

Drew produced monster sandwiches and chocolate-chip cookies for lunch. He drank a quart of milk while Gabe had apple juice.

“Not bad,” Gabe said when the meal was over.

“Best thing is no dishes to wash.” Drew gathered up the paper plates and napkins and sailed them into the trash can. That was a compromise Gabe had agreed to. Dishes were only for dinner. Paper ware for everything else.

Valerie and Jeff came by for Drew promptly at five, assured Gabe they’d take care of him and gave him Valerie’s cell number. The movie started at six, then they’d eat and should be back around ten, Valerie said.

Gabe went up to the bedroom and began a thorough search through every piece of clothing in the tall dresser. Each shirt, underwear, pajama set, pair of socks, handkerchief and scarf was gone over. He’d told himself at the outset that he must be methodical, so he took his time.

His CD player provided music for the laborious task and meanwhile he let himself relive what had happened at church.

Walking to church with his brother in the March sunlight and then being met by all kinds of people who smiled and said, “Hello,” as if they knew him had lulled him into a pleasant sense of comfort. It had taken one critical instant to snatch him rudely awake.

The deacon who’d officially welcomed him and Drew was about to let them proceed into the sanctuary when he called a woman over to meet them. Gabe scarcely heard the introduction, he was so shocked.

All he could take in was that the girl who had spilled potato salad on his jacket and embarrassed him to the max lived right here in Grayson. She was standing right there in front of him. What were the odds of that happening?

Thankfully Drew hadn’t said anything. The girl looked like she was about to faint so he cut the moment short and went on into the church. Drew had said, “That’s the same lady from the restaurant, isn’t it?” Gabe had nodded a yes.

The service began and since it was so similar to his mother’s church service, he knew when to make the right responses as part of the congregation.

He’d been touched and surprised by the minister’s remarks about Great-Grandfather. There was something to be said after all about small towns where people stayed all of their lives.

The minister began his sermon. Gabe couldn’t have said what it was about because he was thinking of the girl whose last name was Gray.

How awkward was it going to be with both of them living in Grayson? He thought the deacon had said the girl knew everyone in the community. That meant she had status and it also meant they’d be bumping into each other while he was here. That could be a problem.

Did she have a job? He could find out and avoid the place. He didn’t mind being cooperative for the brief time he’d be in Grayson. She, on the other hand, had a life here. He’d keep a low profile and that should take care of it.

Satisfied with this conclusion, he’d stood for the final prayer, had a short but friendly exchange with the man who’d sat next to him and exited the pew almost into the arms of the girl he’d vowed to avoid.

She’d looked totally different. Her eyes shone with a friendly smile and her color was back. She was stunning in a navy blue outfit that looked like it had been made for her.

She’d said she wanted them to meet some people and took them around as if they were celebrities. That’s when he found out her name was Makima Gray, because people kept calling to her. The deacon was right, she was well-known.

Gabe finished with the dresser and found nothing out of the ordinary. Next was the closet. It didn’t take too long to go through the pockets. His great-grandfather apparently had emptied his pockets as a habit.

Gabe handled each garment then took all the shoes out to see if there was something hidden in them. Shoes made good hiding places. He even examined the bottoms, remembering stories of hollow heels. He felt silly but he couldn’t afford to pass up any possibility.

Makima had been wearing some nice shoes with three-inch heels and she’d walked confidently in them. He always noticed women’s shoes; you could tell something about a woman by the shoes she wore.

That Alana. She certainly was different from Makima. Makima had a sort of dignity about her even under stress while Alana was all gaiety and sparkle. The deep red pants outfit she’d worn had clung to her slim body. She wasn’t as tall as Makima and didn’t have her sister’s curves. Her shoes had been black sling backs and he’d bet she could have a date every night of the week if she wanted it.

He wondered how the sisters got along. Their brother, Bobby, seemed to be the quiet one of the siblings. He’d seemed to be all wrapped up in Valerie Wolf.

As Gabe searched through the rest of the room, even looking under the mattress, he speculated what Makima could possibly want to talk about with him that involved a business matter. She had seemed very serious about it.

By the time Drew came in he’d finished the room and had gone downstairs to have a bowl of chili and a salad.

“Have a good time?” Gabe asked.

“Yeah.” Drew opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of ice cream. “Want some?”

“Sure.”

Drew filled two bowls. “There was this guy in the movie who had to find out who was kidnapping little kids for ransom,” he began. “And the cool thing was that it was a bunch of high school seniors who cracked the case.”

Gabe was accustomed to listening to Drew’s analysis of the movies he liked. When Drew finished, Gabe said, “How’d you and Jeff get along?”

“Fine. He’s coming over tomorrow after school.”

We’re both having company tomorrow and we’ve only been here two days, Gabe mused as they went up to bed.

By the time Makima was ready to go to her appointment on Monday she’d tried on and discarded three different outfits. One was too dressy, the second was too informal and the third would do but that was all. She hadn’t been this nervous getting ready for a presentation to a foundation, she thought as she selected a fourth outfit.

This would do, or maybe she was tired of her indecision. The deep violet wool jacket with a shawl collar had pants to match. With them she wore a silk georgette blouse in a geometric floral print. She found some earrings with a single violet stone and decided to wear her new suede sling backs with the covered buckle and a matching bag. Looking at her image in the full-length mirror she felt ready for a business appointment with Mr. Gabriel Bell.

As she walked up the familiar steps of Mr. Zeke’s house, sadness overcame her. This was her first time back since he’d passed away. All her life she’d come up those steps and crossed the porch to ring this bell. As a little girl the porch had seemed so wide.

The door opened promptly just as it used to do but this time it was Gabe Bell who welcomed her in. He looks like he belongs here, she thought.

He wore dark pants with a striped pullover sweater and everything about him was well groomed.

“It’s nice to see you again, Makima. Please come in.”

“Thank you.” She instinctively turned left into the living room. “Oh, you’ve opened the curtains. I’m so glad,” she said involuntarily.

Gabe looked puzzled. “Great-Grandfather never opened them?”

“Not much as he grew older, and it was so dark in here. It’s lovely to have the light again.” She gazed around the room as if seeing old friends once more.

“Please have a seat and let me bring you something to drink,” Gabe said. “Tea, coffee, soft drink?”

“Water will be fine, thanks.”

He served the water on a small tray with a napkin and sat down opposite her with his own glass.

“I gather you’ve been here many times and are familiar with the house,” he said.

“I’ve been coming here all my life,” she said simply. “That’s why it made me feel sad when I walked up the steps today. It’s my first time here since Mr. Zeke passed.”

“I understand,” Gabe said and waited for her to continue.

“Miss Sarah used to call me her little girl. My father was principal of the school where she taught and they were great friends, which is one reason my parents allowed me to visit. Our house is on the street behind the church, so it was easy to walk or ride my bike over here.” She took a sip of water and saw amusement in his eyes. What had she said that was funny?

“I suddenly had this picture of you with your hair in braids whizzing along on your bike.” The openness of his smile invited her to smile with him at the picture and she smiled back before resuming her story.

“Miss Sarah had one daughter, Elizabeth, who died as an infant. But I guess you know all about that. Then she had two boys, but she’d always wanted a girl, so I was her make-believe daughter or granddaughter and we spent a lot of time together. Mr. Zeke was very kind to me, too. I used to follow him around to see what he was doing. After Miss Sarah died I came by often to keep him company. He’d explain to me how he fashioned parts of this house.”

“You can tell he loved working with wood,” Gabe said. “I’m finding out a lot about him little by little.”

This was the opening Makima had been looking for.

“This may or may not be something you knew about, Gabe, but Mr. Zeke had promised to sell me some property.” No, he hadn’t known about that. She saw that instantly and girded herself for battle.

Gabe sat straight in his chair. “He promised to sell you some of this property where we are or did he have some more?”

“It was this property we always talked about,” she said firmly.

“What was it for?”

“The Grayson Medical Clinic.”

“I don’t know anything about that.”

“The need for it came about because of a tragedy, as is so often the case.” Her tone softened and she relaxed in her chair.

“The youngest child in our family was my sister June. She was eighteen, getting ready to go to college. On a Saturday night she and three friends went to a football game at South Carolina State in Orangeburg. A drunk driver hit the car when they were almost home. June was sitting in the passenger seat in the front and that’s what took the impact. Everybody in the car had some injuries but June died because we couldn’t get her to the hospital in Swinton in time.”

“I’m sorry,” Gabe said “When did that happen?”

“Three years ago. Since then I’ve made the establishment of a medical clinic here in Grayson a priority.”

“By yourself?” Gabe sounded a little disbelieving.

“No, everyone in Grayson is helping and there’s a board.”

“How have you progressed so far?”

“We have ten folders with details which I’ll be happy to show you another time, but I can tell you that we’ve gone through most of the legal procedures. We’ve met with medical authorities and building contractors. We’ve written many grant proposals and met with quite a few foundations.”

“Have you raised much money?”

“The first large sum was the insurance that was paid for June’s wrongful death. Our family gave it as seed money. Since then we’ve added money from grants, foundations, organizations and frequent fund-raisers.”

Gabe turned his glass in his hand. “Where does this property come in?” He fixed on her with a direct stare.

Makima knew this was the moment of truth. He had to believe as she did that Mr. Zeke had intended to sell her what she needed.

“I asked Mr. Zeke to sell us a part of his property for the clinic. I’ve never considered any other place because this location is perfect and there’s something about it that draws me. I know that doesn’t make much business sense but that’s the way I feel.”

“What exactly did he say, Makima?” Gabe asked.

“He said, ‘We’ll see.’ I didn’t have the down payment yet, so I didn’t go beyond that, but each time I reminded him, he said, ‘It’ll still be here.’ In other words, when I had the money ready he’d sell it to me. Then he died quite unexpectedly, so I’m coming to you.” Makima took a deep breath and said a silent prayer as she waited for his response.

“How much property do you need?” he asked calmly.

“We can’t afford more than five acres.” Makima allowed herself to hope that this was going to work. It had to work for the sake of the whole community.

“It’s a worthwhile project and I wish I could help you, Makima, but I can’t.” Gabe looked at her with sympathy.

Makima flinched as if she’d suffered a blow. She couldn’t give up. The clinic had to be fought for.

“Why can’t you?” she asked.

“The will doesn’t permit it.”

“Mr. Zeke’s will?” Her eyes flashed. “That’s hard to believe. You are his heir, aren’t you?”

“Of course or I wouldn’t be here,” he said stiffly.

“You’re his heir and you can’t dispose of the property?” That didn’t sound reasonable to her.

“As I said, I can’t help you.” His voice was now formal and cool.

“Can’t or won’t? I’d hoped for more understanding and cooperation from Mr. Zeke’s relative.” She stood up. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time, Mr. Bell.”

Gabe escorted her to the door in silence, opened it and said, “Thank you for coming, Miss Gray.”

She felt him watching as she walked across the porch and down the steps, then got into her car.

What was she going to do now? She had to have that property.

Chapter 6

Gabe moved to the front window to watch Makima as she walked across the porch and down the steps. He could see the tension in her body and he knew he’d caused it.

He was sorry but there was nothing else he could have done. There was no way he could sell her any part of the property, not even one acre, much less five. He’d told her the will didn’t permit it and she’d had the gall to imply that she didn’t believe him, that he just didn’t want to consider her offer. That had made him angry.

She didn’t know him at all so where did she get off saying he was a liar?

He didn’t know her either but he’d listened to all she had to say about the clinic and had actually been impressed by her story. Losing her sister in such a senseless accident must have been terrible and he could understand how the need for the clinic arose out of it. He could only vaguely imagine how he’d feel if it had been Drew in that car!

The clinic would surely cost hundreds of thousands of dollars and he wondered how Makima and her partners could raise that much money. He dealt with funding in the state agency he worked for and he knew it wasn’t only the cost of getting a business up and running that one had to be concerned about. Keeping it running also cost money and that’s why many enterprises folded after a year or two.

That would be a worse scenario for the clinic than if they didn’t get it started in the first place. Had she thought about that?

He didn’t see why she’d fixated on this property. There had to be other acres in Grayson on which the clinic could be built that would be just as convenient for the community as this was. But no, Miss Makima Gray had apparently made a unilateral decision for this spot and had bullied the people she was working with to accept it.

He could have told her the details of the will but he didn’t see why he had to. That was his private business.

He needed to warn Drew not to talk about it, especially now that he’d met Jeff. It could slip out in a casual remark about them being here for only three months and Jeff could mention it to his sister, who would tell Makima’s brother and the damage would be done.

The hardheaded woman would just have to deal with what he’d told her—that the will permitted no sale.

The next morning Gabe was beating eggs for an omelet while Drew made toast when there was a knock at the back door.

A gray-haired man wearing a sweater stuck his head in the door. “Can I come in?”

Gabe said, “You’re just in time for breakfast. I’m Gabe Bell and this is my brother, Drew.”

“Sam Williams is my name and I’m your neighbor directly across the street.” They shook hands and Sam pulled out a chair at the table and made himself comfortable. “That omelet looks good but I’ll have to pass it up. I’ll join you for some coffee and toast. Zeke and I had coffee together most mornings, you know.”

Sam had sharp eyes and a round face that sported a short gray beard, which Gabe noted was neatly trimmed. He appeared to be in his late seventies.

Gabe served the omelet, poured coffee for Sam and himself and milk for Drew. “How about some fruit to go with your toast, Mr. Williams?”

“Call me Sam. No fruit. I have it later in the day or it upsets my stomach.” His eyes twinkled. “Digestive system isn’t what it used to be.”

He tasted his coffee. “You make a good cup of coffee, Gabe, I’m glad to say. Can’t stand it weak. Heard the two of you caused quite a stir at church yesterday. Sorry I wasn’t there to meet you but this is better. Always good to meet people across a table, you know.” He twinkled at Drew. “You remember that, young Drew. Now, how old are you?”

“I’ll be sixteen in a few months, Mr. Williams.” Listening to this interesting neighbor, Drew had slowed his usual eating pace.

“Growing so fast you’re going to be right up there with your brother in a few years. Bet you can’t buy the groceries fast enough,” he told Gabe.

His good humor made even Drew laugh, especially since he was pouring himself another tall glass of milk. “I’m thinking of putting him out to work to earn his keep,” Gabe said just to see what Drew’s reaction would be.

“Zeke was a smart man, you know,” Sam said. “He grew most of the food him and Sarah ate. Had a garden every year and began one this year. Guess you’ve seen it. When we’re through here I’ll show it to you, young Drew, and tell you what you need to do to keep it going so you can put some food on this table.”

The idea seemed to appeal to Drew. “Okay,” he said.

I like this neighbor, Gabe thought, and waited to see what Sam would put him through. He took a bite of omelet and sipped his coffee.

Sam started in a roundabout way while enjoying his breakfast. “Zeke and I were alike in not having the pleasure of seeing our kids grown and having kids of their own. His daughter, Elizabeth, only lived a few months. Robert died at twenty when a horse threw him while Edward went up to New York and disappeared. It wasn’t until years later that Zeke found out he’d died of tuberculosis and left two sons.”

Gabe forgot to eat, immersed in this picture of his father’s family of which he’d known nothing all these years.

“Since you and Drew are Bells, I take it that Edward Bell was your grandfather?”

“Apparently, but we never knew about him,” Gabe said.

“Your father’s name was?”

“Booker,” Gabe and Drew said in unison.

An expression of satisfaction was clear on Sam’s face and as Gabe poured more hot coffee, he warned himself to be vigilant because Sam appeared to be an expert at drawing information out of you. Therefore Gabe would offer only what he didn’t mind everyone knowing about the conditions of the will. He’d no idea what Great-Grandfather might have confided to Sam. He only knew what he wasn’t going to confide.

“Drew, I think I’d like another piece of toast to go with this good coffee,” Sam said. Drew got up to replenish the toast supply and Sam asked Gabe, “You’d be about thirty-five or so?”

“You hit it on the head exactly.”

“Single?”

“So far.”

“Your parents?”

“Both deceased.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Gabe and Drew. I thought maybe they were since they weren’t down here with you.”

The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable and Gabe found no false note in it.

Drew put a plate of hot toast on the table and a jar of strawberry preserves. When everyone had eaten some, Gabe decided he would offer some facts.

“We were born and raised in Manhattan. The only relatives on our dad’s side that we knew about was his brother, Jacob. Uncle Jake never married and had no children as far as we knew. Our mother, Virginia Riley, came from a large family and those were the aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents we knew.”

“What did Booker say when you asked about family on his side?”

“He’d say he didn’t have any, or that he didn’t want to talk about it, so early on we learned to leave that subject alone.”

“Your uncle Jake never told you anything?”

“Nothing. We didn’t see him on any regular basis. He’d breeze into town for a few days and we’d never know when he’d be back.”

“Is he still living?”

“He died a year after Dad.”

“I probably knew your great-grandfather as well as anyone in Grayson and better than most,” Sam said thoughtfully. “For years we sat at this table together, especially after we were both widowed. He never said a word about what was to happen to this property. The one time I mentioned it he said it was taken care of. I expected that and never talked about it again.”

He was silent and so were Gabe and Drew.

“He hadn’t been ill, you know,” he resumed. “He just died one day. The next thing I knew, there was a rumor flying around town that an heir from New York had been found. So naturally I was very concerned to meet that heir and see what he was like, you see.” He raised an eyebrow, his sharp glance on Gabe.

“I understand. You wanted to see if the heir was worthy of your friend.” Gabe looked at his inquisitor calmly. The two men measured each other and came to an agreeable conclusion.

“My great-grandfather apparently decided to make a search for Edward’s son,” Gabe said. “It must have been quite difficult because it was only a few weeks ago that Drew and I knew anything about this. We had a visit from an attorney who had worked for Great-Grandfather for some years. He established who he was and who we were. Then he read us the will. To say we were astonished doesn’t begin to describe our feelings.” He glanced at Drew.

“Blown away is what we were!” Drew said.

“It was very hard to believe. In New York inheritance scams are played on people every day, so it took some time to come to the conclusion that what the attorney told us was legitimate. I can’t tell you all the details, but we are the heirs and we’ll be here for a while as things work themselves out.”

Sam was nodding his head. “Your great-grandfather was deep, so I’m not surprised that he worked it out that way. You know, he was quite a scholar in his own way, particularly about Africa. Read books about it all of the time and when something would come on television about that place, he’d tell me to come over and we’d watch it together.”

“I have noticed a number of books about Africa in his office.”

“Those are just the ones he kept. He used his library card for a lot of others.” He drained his coffee cup. “Well, I guess I’ve taken up enough of your time for now. I’m real glad the two of you are here. Feel free to come over any time. It’s the white house with the green shutters.”

“What a character,” Drew said, cleaning off the table as Gabe cleaned up the pans. “I like him.”

“So do I, and I respect him. He’s no dummy.”

“He sure told us a lot about Pop’s family. Seems like every day we find out a little more. Don’t you think that’s crazy?”

“In a way, but on the other hand, we’re living where Pop’s family began, so even though it was a long time ago, people here know bits and pieces that we couldn’t hear about living in NewYork.”

“He forgot to show me the garden,” Drew remembered.

“I think he stayed longer than he’d planned but he won’t forget. Watch for him tomorrow morning. What had you planned to do in the time before Jeff gets here?”

“Hadn’t planned anything special. Why?”

“Do a little treasure hunt and see if anything at all looks unusual or that might be a clue for us.”

“Okay.”

“One other thing, Drew. Did you get the idea that Sam Williams wanted to know everything that was in the will?”

“Yeah. He was, like, champing at the bit but you didn’t tell him.”

“You and I both have to repeat to others what I told him because a lot of people are as curious as Sam is. Just say we can’t talk about the details of the will and we’ll be here for a while. The topic might come up when Jeff gets here because it’s a natural question. Okay?”

“Sure, I can handle that.”

Gabe was anxious to explore his great-grandfather’s office. If there was something significant about the treasured destiny to be discovered, shouldn’t it be in the place where he did most of his work and study?

He stood in the doorway, noting how it had been set up. A dark brown desk with three drawers on each side was on the wall to his right, flanked by a floor lamp and a two-drawer beige file. The rest of the wall was a closet.

Opposite the doorway where he stood was an eight-shelf bookcase. On one wall beside it was a large map of Africa while the map on the other side showed details of West Africa. A comfortable chair with a table lamp stood beside it. A curio cabinet, other maps of the world and several chairs completed the furnishings.

He created his own little library, Gabe observed, and probably spent most of his time here as he grew older. It was well lit, comfortable and warm. He could see himself spending evenings here dipping into the books.

He began his search at the desk. The drawers were filled with bills going back twenty years. Apparently, Great-Grandfather didn’t believe in credit cards. All the receipts showed payment in cash. This even went for large items like the pickup truck Gabe had seen in the garage.

The house was paid for. The property tax statements represented the largest outgo of money. Gabe read the figure for the assessment of the property and whistled softly. He laid the paper down, stunned.

He couldn’t fathom being the potential owner of such valuable property. It was like winning the lottery. He’d never thought of having a lot of money. The most he’d desired was enough for him and Drew to get by on comfortably.

Still a little dazed, he looked through the other drawers but discovered nothing out of the ordinary. The stacks of bank statements would have to wait for another time, when his head was clearer.

He stood before the map of Africa and studied it. The attorney, Mr. Moultrie, had told him that this destiny business had its origins with some African slaves, so Gabe could understand why Great-Grandfather had an interest in the continent. But it was so huge. Had one country been singled out?

He moved to the other map, which showed only the west coast of Africa and its countries. Most of the slave trade had embarked from the west coast, if he remembered his history. Maybe the map had been marked for easy identification as to the area the slaves came from.

Gabe picked up the magnifying glass from the desk and looked closely but could see no mark of any kind.

He went around the walls, looking at the other maps and prints. He also looked behind them to satisfy himself that they contained no clues.

The bell rang downstairs and a minute later Drew yelled up, “Gabe, Jeff’s here.”

“I’m in the office. C’mon up.”

Jeff didn’t look anything like his sister, which was just as well, Gabe thought as he said hello. Jeff was broad across the shoulders and about five feet four inches. He had freckles and a broad nose.

“My mom reminded me to bring this book back since I was coming over here.” He handed Gabe a hardcover volume.

“Whose is it?” Gabe wanted to know.

“Mr. Zeke’s. He talked in our history class about Africa and said he had some books if anyone wanted to borrow one, so when I had to do a report I came and got that one.”

“Folktales of West Africa,” Gabe read aloud. “Is it a good book?”

“I liked what I read of it.”

“What kind of grade did you get?” Drew asked.

“Ninety-one.”

“Cool,” Drew said. “Shows it was a good book for you. I didn’t know our great-grandfather spoke in schools. Did he do it often?”

“Most every year for some grade. He was sort of an expert on Africa around here and he loved to talk about it.”

Drew and Gabe exchanged a glance. One more piece of new information to add.

Later in the evening, Gabe went to sit on the bench in the field. I learned some things about you today, Great-Grandfather, he mused, but there’s more I need to know if I’m going to carry out your plans.

What am I supposed to find and where are the clues you left in your house?

Chapter 7

Makima picked up the telephone on its first ring. “Makima Gray speaking.”

“Good morning, Miss Gray.”

She recognized the voice of the woman on the other end of the line. It was friendly but undergirded with the authority of a decision maker.

“This is Harriet Wetherell of Wetherell Associates. I hope you are well.”

“I’m fine, Ms. Wetherell, and you?”

“Couldn’t be better.” With the social amenities out of the way, Harriet got down to business. “Did you receive the packet of material we sent you last week?”

“Yes, thank you. It was very informative.”

“As I mentioned before when we talked, our company has a good reputation for living up to our motto, We Build For You. Whatever you have in mind we will provide in the highest quality and for a competitive price. I hope you read the comments from some of our clients. We urge you to talk to them and hear for yourself what they say about the structures we built for them.”

“I know the little art gallery in Columbia you built. I’ve been there and admired the way the space was handled to give the maximum advantage for the artwork,” Makima said. “Of course a medical clinic is totally different from an art gallery.”

“Not really,” Ms. Wetherell said thoughtfully. “Their functions aren’t the same but each one has to be built to last, to be environmentally friendly, comfortable to inhabit, pleasing to the eye and highly specific for its activity.”

“Those are all good points,” Makima agreed. “I hadn’t thought of it in that way.”

“The last time you were here, you still hadn’t made a decision about the exact location of your clinic, Miss Gray. May I ask how that’s coming along?”

“Slowly, Ms. Wetherell. An obstacle has come up which may take some time to deal with.” Makima had to work at keeping her voice pleasant and noncommittal as she thought of Gabriel Bell.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but these things happen in the real estate and construction business. I’ll keep in touch, and meanwhile, if there’s any matter we can help you with, please don’t hesitate to call.”

Wetherell Associates had been recommended to Makima and the board by a business in Rock Hill, South Carolina. “What they say they’ll do, they do and on time. Not like most of these folk who work for you three days one week and don’t come back until days later. You can’t fire them because they have your money, but you only have a part of your construction.”

That was a good recommendation, but the clinic group had to be thorough when there was so much of their precious money at stake. Was this corporation totally honest? Had there been any problem after the building had been standing a few years? How did they handle weather delays? How many crews did they have working at one time and were they all equally qualified?

Makima admired Harriet. She was CEO of the corporation and seemed to be straightforward and direct. Had always been courteous with the clinic group, but naturally she wanted to sign them to a contract. Makima could appreciate that, but no contract would be signed as far as Makima was concerned until all those questions had been answered to her satisfaction. And until she had figured out a way to negotiate a sale of property with Gabriel Bell.

He might think she’d given up. All that had happened was the first skirmish in the battle.

She knew beyond a doubt that the clinic was supposed to be built on Mr. Zeke’s land. She’d prayed about the matter for years with all of the faith and earnestness she could muster and had never received a negative sign from God. Therefore she was following His will. That being the case, how could she fail?

This was just a test of her faith. Important things never came easily. You had to work hard and sometimes use strategy. She’d pray about it and think of something.

It was too bad troublesome things kept happening between them. First the catastrophe in the restaurant, which she might never live down, followed by the unexpected meeting at the church, and now his total refusal to consider Mr. Zeke’s consent to sell her land for the clinic. He hadn’t even taken the time to discuss it at length with her. A curt statement about the will not permitting it and that was all.

He was so attractive and she wished they could be friendly but obviously that wasn’t going to be in the picture!

Makima straightened the papers on her desk and turned off the lamp. She might be able to head a project like the clinic, but she didn’t seem to have much success with men. Reggie had walked away and now the first man she’d found interesting since him seemed to be nothing but bad news.

“You ready, young Drew?” Sam called at the back door the next morning, as Gabe had predicted.

“Come in for coffee,” Gabe said.

“Already had some, thanks.”

Drew clattered down the steps to join his garden instructor. Gabe watched them for a moment with a bemused expression. Who’d ever have thought Drew would be interested in gardening? As he went up to continue work in the office, it occurred to him that by living all his life in a Manhattan apartment the opportunity for gardening had never come up for Drew. What else might happen for the two of them in this new environment?

As he sifted through the bank statements, Makima came to mind as part of this new environment.

But she wasn’t new. He’d met her kind before. Extremely attractive, intelligent, personable with people. The kind of skin you longed to touch. Hair you wanted to run your fingers through. Lips that were very kissable. And curves. Long legs. Beautiful shoes. And curves.

He had the feeling she could be snobbish at times if she found herself in circumstances where she was uncomfortable. Use it as a defense mechanism. She had the presence and the style to carry it off.

He knew the type well. In fact, he had been seriously involved with one called Olivia several years back. They’d dated for a year or so and he’d never been so in love. He’d been saving to get her a ring before popping the question. Then by pure accident he discovered that she’d been seeing a guy who lived in New Jersey, which explained why she’d been unavailable to go out with him sometimes, especially on weekends. He’d felt like a fool and a dupe and had promised himself to never get in such a situation again.

The few dates he’d had after that were casual and harmless. His social life had been curtailed anyway after his parents died. Leaving Drew alone in the apartment while he partied wasn’t an option.

His boys would come over and sometimes bring girls along and that was it. This year Drew had complained that he didn’t need Gabe babysitting him. He was going on sixteen and big enough to take care of himself. Gabe was touched, and just to stop Drew’s bellyaching he went out a couple of Saturdays with Webster and Calvin.

Drew was always anxious to know the next day all about his evening out. Gabe obliged with an account of where they went and what music they heard. It had been a welcome change, but Gabe discovered that this was not how he wanted to spend his evenings. There’d been a time when he did but that time had passed.

He wondered if there were any clubs here in Grayson. What did Alana and her crowd do for entertainment other than go to the movies? As for Makima, she might not go out at all just for entertainment.

Getting the clinic up and working probably took all her time. Something like that could make you obsessive and she seemed the type. Immediately he had the image of her trying to get the salad off his jacket even when it was clear that the mayonnaise had already soaked into the fabric. He’d been so angry then but now when he thought of it, he was amused. One thing about the incident, she’d made an indelible impression on him. And on his jacket.

He was still smiling when the phone ran. It was the attorney, Jasper Moultrie.

“How are you and Drew settling in?” he asked.

Gabe filled him in on the trip, the church experience and Sam Williams.

“We’ve been learning about Great-Grandfather. Did you know he’s looked upon as an expert on Africa and even spoke to schools on the subject?”

“I believe he did mention that at one time,” Moultrie said. “He never lost interest in the subject.”

“You’ve seen this house, Mr. Moultrie?”

“Yes, I have.”

“We were overwhelmed. Had no idea it was this grand. You know it’s mostly his own work.” Gabe heard the pride in his own voice and was surprised.

“Your great-grandfather was a man of many parts as they used to say of outstanding men.”

“I see that. I’ve been going through his papers. Found his property tax assessment and my heart nearly stopped.”

“I hope it gave you some motivation to observe the dictates of the will,” Moultrie said calmly.

“Don’t worry. I’m observing them. I’ve already searched his bedroom and now I’m working through his office. By the way, Mr. Moultrie, what did my great-grandfather look like? I haven’t found any photographs of him yet.”

“I’ll do my best to describe him as I saw him. He stood about five-eight, had a powerful body and strong features. Deep-set eyes, broad nose and mouth. Wore his hair thick. Had a fine forehead. He was dark-skinned. Does that give you a picture?”

“Yes, it does.”

“One more thing, he had a presence about him. He wasn’t a loud-speaking man but he had your attention when he spoke.”

“That I can imagine. I’m curious about another thing. Did you come to the funeral?”

“Yes, as quietly as possible. Someone had to lock up the house and see that all was in order.”

“I wondered about that and how the rumor was started about an heir from New York. That was your doing?” Gabe asked. He didn’t see how it could have been anyone else.

“I did it because the community had to have some idea about what was going to happen. I hoped it would prevent the kind of idle curiosity that occurs when houses are left unoccupied too long. You found everything was all right?”

“Yes. I expect Sam Williams across the street was watching it anyway.”

“No doubt. Good man, Sam. Call me if you have any questions, Mr. Bell, and my regards to Drew.”

Gabe went back to work with the image of his great-grandfather in his mind. He wished he had a photograph. It was strange that there weren’t any in the house, but maybe they’d been put away in one of the numerous dressers. He’d keep an eye out for them. Meanwhile he was through with the desk so he started on the books.

They were organized by subject matter and since it was clear from the first glimpse that Africa was the predominant theme, he paid close attention to those books. Most of them showed signs of heavy usage but Gabe could find no clue in them. He did make a mental note that there were several on the small nation called the Gambia.

Downstairs he made tuna sandwiches with lettuce and tomato for lunch. He had to start getting more vegetables on Drew’s plate any way he could.

“In a week or two I’m going with Mr. Williams to get stuff to put in the garden. He says we have to wait because it’s too early now. You can’t plant just any time,” he proclaimed.

“That’s good to know,” Gabe replied. “What will you be planting?”

“Don’t know yet. Some are already started in little pots and you have to look them over for the healthiest ones.” He took another sandwich. “This is good. I never thought of putting tomato with tuna.”

“Now that we’re going to have our own vegetables we can experiment with our cooking instead of eating the same old things day after day.” Gabe was serious but he was also giving Drew a new idea.

“Yeah, and you know what? The first time something comes up in the garden we can invite Mr. Williams over for dinner,” he said with enthusiasm as he swallowed a large bite.

“Good idea,” Gabe agreed. “By the way, Mr. Moultrie called to see how we’re getting along.”

“Did you tell him we haven’t found anything yet?”

“He didn’t even ask. He knows we just got here Saturday. I asked him how Great-Grandfather looked because I hadn’t seen any pictures around here. Have you?”

“No. I was going to tell you the same thing because it’s weird not to have a single picture of your family.” Drew looked puzzled. “Don’t you think so?”

“I guess they’re all packed away.”

“What’d he say Great-Grandfather looked like?”

Gabe repeated the description faithfully.

Drew listened, not eating. “Wish I could have seen him,” he said.

“Me, too,” Gabe echoed.

After lunch Gabe had great hopes of finding a clue when he returned to the office and opened the two-drawer file that stood beside the desk. What he found was that his great-grandfather had been a clipper. Folders labeled with many subjects were filled with clippings from newspapers and magazines.

He literally groaned. How in the world could he read all that stuff? But if he neglected to, would he be missing what he was supposed to discover? No wonder he was to be here three months.

He flipped through the folders: world history, U.S. history, black history, philosophy, religion, travel, South Carolina, North Carolina, weather, the environment, health, gardening, mechanics, carpentry, people in the news, the arts, food, and education.

Hadn’t Moultrie said this man had to teach himself to read? Obviously he’d carried the love of it all through his life.

When he, Gabe, died, what would he leave behind that people could go through and be impressed by? If only Moultrie could have brought him here while Great-Grandfather was still in this house so he could have absorbed some of the richness of his life!

There were also folders containing the plans for this house. Some of them had been drawn by an architect and others by Ezekiel Bell Jr. To Gabe’s untrained eye they looked equally professional.

He found statements and receipts for all of the lumber, the wiring, the nails and the hardware, everything that went into the building of the house. It was as if it had all been meticulously collected and saved for an accounting.

He scanned the folders again and made the decision that they would have to wait. If after he’d gone through the whole house and hadn’t found the clues, then he’d come back and read every item in every folder.

He sighed with relief as he closed the folder drawer. He was halfway down the stairs when the phone rang. He hurried back to the office and picked it up with a breathless “Hello.”

“Hello, Gabe, this is Makima. Were you running? You sound out of breath.”

Gabe collapsed in a chair. “I was halfway downstairs and had to come back up. I guess Great-Grandfather never got around to cordless phones.” Now, this call was a surprise. What did Miss Gray want this time? He noticed she’d called him Gabe instead of that haughty Mr. Bell she’d used before she stomped out the door yesterday.

“I want to apologize for the way I left your house. I lost my temper and said the wrong things to you. I’m sorry.”

In his surprise Gabe didn’t respond immediately, which seemed to make her hurry on.

“I was just so disappointed and I let that emotion take over. I hope you can forgive me,” she said.

“It’s all right, Makima. We all lose our tempers sometimes.” Her apology sounded sincere and he was glad.

“How are the two of you settling in?”

“Pretty well.”

“Have you met Sam Williams yet?”

“He came over and had breakfast with us. He’s a very interesting man.”

“He and Mr. Zeke were good buddies.”

“So I understand. He didn’t want the garden to die and today he showed Drew how to care for it and Drew seems to be interested.”

She laughed. “That sounds just like him. It was good talking with you, Gabe, and I hope to see you around.”

“Thanks for the call, Makima. I appreciate it.”

She’d been wrong and had seen it after she’d calmed down. Not everyone, however, would have called to apologize. Especially a pretty woman. So he truly did appreciate it.

It was a big plus mark for her.

Even so, he wasn’t going to let himself be drawn in by her good points or her physical attractiveness.

Been there, done that, and had been badly hurt.

Drew was his family now and that was all he needed.

Chapter 8

The sky was overcast and March winds had started to blow. Makima was glad she’d worn a pair of warm black pants and a long-sleeved red sweater.

“I’m going out for lunch, be back about one,” she told Eugenia Palmer, the program director, who sat at the receptionist desk when Makima wasn’t available.

“Have fun,” Eugenia said as she opened her lunch bag. Her sprouts on low-carb bread, plus an apple and a thermos of green tea were guaranteed to bring down her weight if she persevered and she was determined to make it work.

Fun wasn’t exactly what Makima anticipated, but she did enjoy her weekly lunch hour at her parents’ home as long as she could avoid certain subjects.

Today, only her mother greeted her. “Dad’s not going to be with us?” Makima was disappointed as it had been two weeks since she’d seen him.

“He had to go to Swinton to see someone. Said to tell you he’s sorry to miss you.”

Odessa Lines had been raised in the genteel home of a prominent minister. When the neighbor boy, Arthur Gray, had begun courting her, Reverend Lines had refused consent until Arthur had a steady job. Arthur and Odessa had both become teachers, but when Makima arrived, Odessa stayed home to raise her children. Arthur went into administration, rising steadily until he became principal of the high school.

Odessa closed the door behind Makima. “You warm enough, honey? It’s turned chilly so I made your favorite—vegetable-beef soup.”

Makima followed her mother into the spacious kitchen where the table was set for two.

“No wonder it smells so good in here,” Makima said appreciatively.

Her mother set two steaming bowls of soup on the table where there were already thick chunks of crusty bread and butter.

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