A Second Helping (11 page)

Outside in the hall, the eavesdropping Sheila smiled and quietly tiptoed back to her room.

Her men were going to be all right.

A
s Preston and Amari rode their bikes out to Tamar's later that afternoon, Preston told him about Mrs. Payne's vacation and about the pact he'd made with the colonel.

“So you believe him about wanting to be father and son?” Amari asked.

“I guess. He sounded pretty for real but I'm trying not to get caught up on that hope thing, you know.”

“I feel you. Be great if it worked out, then we can all do stuff together. Me and my dad, and you and your dad.”

Preston, struggling with the exertion of the riding, nodded.

Seeing the difficulty his friend was having, Amari said, “Let's stop a minute, man. Need to catch my breath.”

The ride from where they lived to where Tamar lived was a little over a mile. The unpaved gravel road hadn't been graded by the county recently, so traveling was rough on both bike and rider. In truth, Amari could have made
the trip in half the time had he been alone, but Preston was with him, and because of his asthma, they had to go slow.

“I know you're stopping because of me,” Preston wheezed. He dug into his pocket for his inhaler and took a quick puff.

“It's okay. You're getting better. Last summer you couldn't ride at all, remember?”

Preston nodded and welcomed the relief brought on by the inhaler's medication a few minutes later. Once he felt able, he said, “Thanks, man.”

“Don't want you dying on me. Who'd I hang with? Devon? Crystal?”

Preston grinned.

So for the next few minutes, they sat in the grass, took in the silence and sunshine, and watched the breeze rippling through the fields of wheat lining the road.

“Who'd've ever thought we'd end up here,” Preston mused aloud.

“I know. It's cool though. No crackheads, no sirens, no only getting peeks at the sky because of all the houses and buildings. Never knew the sky was so big.”

“Yeah. You see places like this on TV and say, no way would you live there, but this ain't bad.”

Amari agreed. “You think you could live here the rest of your life?”

“Only if Ms. Bernadine builds a college with a physics lab.”

“Or a NASCAR track.”

A big hawk circled lazily above them and the boys charted the flight with their eyes.

As it moved away and out of sight, Amari said, “Had a
dream about a hawk. It was riding shotgun in a car I was driving.”

“Where were you going?”

“No clue.”

“I had a foster mother who swore by her dreams. Even had one of those dream books where you look up stuff so you know what three-digit number to play.”

“Seen those. No place to play a three-digit around here though.”

“Nope.”

Amari assessed Preston's physical condition to see if they could resume their ride. “You ready?”

Preston nodded and both boys picked up their bikes.

“Let me know if you need to stop again, okay?”

“I will. And Amari?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for not dogging me out about my asthma.”

“No problem. We're family, man. We're supposed to look out for each other.”

When they reached Tamar's place, she was seated on the porch in her rocker, reading and listening to her iPod. Lily had given her the popular music device last winter as a birthday gift, and with the help of Preston's laptop, she'd loaded it with everything from Aretha to ZZ Hill. Upon seeing them, she closed her book, removed her headphones, and stood.

For Amari, Tamar's height had to be one of her most intimidating features. She was six-foot-two, and standing next to her was like being towered over by a silver-haired tree. “Hey, Tamar. We came to see the old pictures, if you don't mind.”

“Sure don't. Come on in.”

She got the albums and they all took a seat on the sofa in her living room. Amari never tired of looking at the pictures of old Henry Adams. He liked the sepia-colored images of the dusty old streets filled with horse-drawn wagons and the buildings that no longer existed, like the Sutton Mercantile and the Liberian Lady Saloon. He also enjoyed studying the somber faces of the stiffly posed men with their thick mustaches and old-fashioned suits. “How come none of them ever smiled?”

“Photography was relatively new back then and people posed like they did when having their portraits painted. You ever seen a smiling portrait of anybody in the museums we've visited?”

Amari couldn't say that he had. He carefully turned the pages of the album to the next set of pics. They looked like they'd been taken during some kind of celebration. One showed a crowd of men and women lining the old Main Street. They were wearing fancier old-fashioned clothing and a few people were even smiling. There were flags hanging from some of the buildings in the pictures' background. Beside one of them someone from the past had written in swirly handwriting,
August First. 1882.

Amari turned another page and studied the pictures. One showed a group of soldiers marching down Main Street. All the uniformed men were playing musical instruments, mostly horns.

Preston asked, “These pictures of some kind of parade?”

Tamar nodded. “It's the August First parade. 1882.”

“What was so special about August First?” Amari asked. “Is that the day Henry Adams was founded?”

“No. On August 1, 1834, Great Britain ended slavery in the British West Indies. Free Black folks in America celebrated the date because it gave them hope that slavery would soon be abolished in the U.S. too.”

“Ah,” the boys said.

“Back then our people didn't celebrate the Fourth of July. Didn't make sense when the country had three million of us enslaved, so they did it up on August First instead.”

“I didn't know that,” Preston said, sounding impressed.

“So what kind of stuff did they do?” Amari asked. “Did they barbecue, shoot fireworks, what?”

“Good question. Be something for you and Preston to look up.”

“Aw, Tamar. Come on. Why is it that every time we talk to you, we wind up having to look up something?”

“Because that's my job. Do you want to be a July or not?”

He sighed audibly. “Yes.”

“I don't.” Preston countered. “I got enough issues with the colonel.”

She ignored that. “This is part of the town's heritage. Its history can only survive if someone's around to tell the stories. You're going to be the youngest July, Amari, so keeping the history alive falls on you now.”

Amari felt glum for a moment, and then an idea came to him that made him sit up and smile. “That project you said I had to do for Henry Adams. Can it be an August First parade?”

Tamar stilled. Realizing she might have inadvertently stepped into her own trap, she said warily, “I suppose.”

Preston looked at Amari. “You want to throw a parade?”

“Yeah. She said do something memorable. When was the last time Henry Adams had a parade, Tamar?”

She thought back. “Forty years, maybe.”

“Perfect. We're going to have us an August First parade, and it's going to be off the chain.”

Preston looked confused. “But you don't know anything about throwing a parade.”

“But I bet we can find out how on the Internet.”

“True,” Preston allowed.

“Will you help?” Amari asked him.

“Sure.”

“Then we're good.”

Amari closed the photo album and stood. “Thanks, Tamar. You were right about the old pictures giving me some ideas.”

Tamar wasn't sure if the town would thank her. Knowing Amari, some kind of disaster was undoubtedly waiting in the wings. “Make sure you get your dad's and Ms. Bernadine's permission.”

Preston agreed. “Yeah. We may need permits or something.”

“And horses, and bands,” Amari added excitedly.

Tamar's mouth dropped.

Amari continued thinking out loud. “You think the colonel could get the Blue Angels to fly over, Brain?”

Preston blinked with surprise but before he could fit thoughts to words, Amari urged, “Come on, man. Let's get back. We've got work to do.”

Tamar followed them outside. As she watched them ride off with Amari still spouting ideas, she stood on the
porch and wondered why she felt as if she'd just unleashed the biblical whirlwind.

 

The town triumvirate, Bernadine, Lily, and Trent, were in Bernadine's office putting together the final agenda for the town meeting when they were interrupted by an excited-looking Amari and a closed-faced Preston. Bernadine had no idea why warning bells were suddenly clanging in her head, but she asked calmly, “What can we do for you, gentlemen?”

“I want to have a parade,” Amari announced.

For all three adults, the world stopped.

Trent was almost afraid to ask. “What kind of parade?”

“August First parade.”

Trent knew about the history of August First, but what—“Okay, start at the beginning.”

So Amari did, recounting the visit to Tamar, the history tied to the date, and the idea he'd gotten from the old picture album.

“I think that is a great idea,” Lily said, impressed. “Be a good way to bring folks together as a community.”

Bernadine had to admit she agreed. Up until then she'd never heard of August First or its significance, but she wasn't sure about Amari being in charge. “How much might this cost?”

He shrugged.

“Then I'd like for you and Preston to put together a proposal. Estimate what you think the price tag could be and let us look at it. Who knows, this might become an annual event again.”

Amari didn't want the adults involved because he was certain they'd take all the credit. “But this is my project. Tamar already approved it.”

Trent asked, “Did she say she was going to pay for it?”

He looked down at his sneaks. “No.”

“Then where does that leave us?” Trent asked.

“With me bringing you a proposal,” Amari murmured.

Bernadine tried to lift his spirits. “It's a fantastic idea, Amari, and since this is your baby, you get to carry it, but you need some oversight.”

Amari looked to Preston for a definition of
oversight
.

“Somebody to look over your shoulder so we don't wind up back in court.”

“Oh.”

Bernadine wondered what they'd do without Preston.

Trent said, “It is a great idea, Amari. Great idea.”

“Thanks.”

Preston had a question. “When do you want to see the proposal?”

“Does a week from today sound reasonable?” Bernadine asked.

Both boys agreed.

“Okay then,” Amari said. “We're gonna go get started.”

After their departure, the three adults shared a long look.

Trent cracked, “Going to be an interesting summer.”

The women nodded agreement and they all went back to work.

 

Leo Brown stood in front of his office windows and looked out at the comings and goings of the small town.
past the window were more pickup trucks than you could shake a stick at, and although the citizenry was friendly, he'd yet to see anyone who looked like him. He had no idea what Bernadine saw in this part of the country because try as he might, he didn't get it. As far as he could tell, there was absolutely nothing to do for recreation except bowling. The secretary sent over to work for him by the temp agency said that for entertainment, the folks she knew went to Wal-Mart. Obviously that was good for the corporate chain's bottom line, but for Leo it meant being bored to death. He'd been sent there to oversee a new geological survey project on behalf of the company and he wasn't sure he'd be able to survive being there the estimated six weeks needed to complete the project.

He was also having a heck of a time coming up with a plan to win Bernadine back. Although she'd made it crystal-clear she wanted no parts of him, he was betting she didn't mean it, not for real anyway. He imagined she was still a bit hurt over his adultery and he couldn't blame her, but if he was willing to come begging, she should be willing to at least give his request for a second chance a fair hearing. After all it wasn't like she was getting any younger. Woman her age needed a man, and not one like the country bumpkins he'd met at the Henry Adams diner. Leo hadn't even bothered asking their names because it hadn't mattered to him one way or the other. His money and status set him apart from people like them and he had the chauffeur to prove it. The thought of money gave him pause. Maybe he could buy his way back into her heart. He knew she had plenty of her own—hadn't she gotten the bulk of it from him? But what
could he buy her that she'd want or didn't already have? He walked to the door and stepped out into the outer office where the temp, named Cathy, had her desk.

“Cathy?”

She smoothly put down her nail file. “Name's Carol, Mr. Brown.”

“That's right. Sorry. Let me ask you a question. If you could have a man buy you anything in the whole world, what would it be?”

She studied him for a moment. “Is this man my husband or a boyfriend?”

He didn't know he needed to be specific. “Any man.”

“Well, if it's my husband, I'd want a new washing machine. Spin cycle is shot and it takes the dryer—”

“Your boyfriend,” he stated, holding on to his patience.

“A new truck. I saw one at the dealer's last week that was candy apple red and so sweet—”

“Never mind.”

He walked back into his office and closed the door. There was no way Bernadine would drive a pickup. She had way too much class for that. He'd just have to keep thinking.

A few minutes later, there was a knock followed by Carol's voice. “Local paper was just delivered, Mr. Brown. You want to take a look at it?”

“Bring it in.”

It took him all of ten minutes to peruse the two-section edition, but something in the local happenings column caught his attention. It was a notice for the Henry Adams monthly town meeting. The brief announcement gave the date as that day and the place as the diner. Leo made a deci
sion to attend. He'd wanted to know what Bernadine saw in this backwoods place. By going to the meeting maybe he could find out. She'd probably pitch a fit, but he didn't care.