The Legacy

“This is an awesome novel. I laughed, I cried and cried some
more. I couldn't put this book down. Mrs. Adams did a
wonderful job of expressing true and unconditional love!”

“All I have to say is that this book was a great read. It made
me cry, it made me think, and made me love romance. Please
buy this book. You would not regret it.”

“This a wonderful book. I thought it would be your average
quick story, but it is actually a beautiful story of belief in self,
God, transitions, love, jealousy, and forgiveness. It will make
you laugh and cry and be thankful for the blessings you take
for granted. This is a story of a full lifetime of commitment
and it was very refreshing. It is very true to what we live
through in this real game called life. I hope you will take
time to explore a really unique and different approach to an
interracial relationship.”

“This is the most captivating story I have read for a good
while. I couldn't put it down.”
“Jewel
Adams
has
written a
wonderful
book that
has
intertwined many story lines. Just when you think you know
where she is going with a story line, she fools you and the
story takes an unexpected turn. You had better have a tissue
box next to you also. There are several times in the story that
you will cry. It has touched my heart in several places by
hitting very close to home. She has shown us how through
trials
and
tribulations
that
we
can
come
to
learn
unconditional love and learn to forgive, not only ourselves,
but others as well, bringing us joy, peace of mind, and
helping us find our own true self-worth.”
"This is one of the most amazing stories I have ever read. I've
never been filled with so much emotion from a book. I'm
glad I got a chance to read it. Jewel Adams is an amazing
author, who knows exactly how to reach our minds and
hearts. I laughed and cried. And I enjoyed every second."

“This story is absolutely beautiful. It constantly tugged at my
heart, and brought me to tears on numerous occasions. I
could not stop reading it. Reading this book helped me
understand and appreciate my own life, and helped bring me
closer to God.”

“I couldn't stop reading! It is truly the best love story I have
EVER read. I laughed, I cried, I felt as though their lives was
unfolding before
me. The writer is so talented. I definitely
will recommend this book to everyone.”

The Legacy
Second Edition Copyright © 2013
Copyright © 2010, 2011 J. Adams
Jewel of the West Publishing
All Rights Reserved
ISBN-13: 978-0615502588
ISBN-10: 061550258X

For my mom
A higher power has charted the course for my life,
and my feet are set on that path.
Now, I will just be still.
Adagio St. John's journal
Asheville, North Carolina

I am so tired, I can't move!
Dropping into a chair at one of the restaurant tables, I
count the tips I've made for the night. Using a linen napkin, I
wipe the remaining beads of perspiration from my forehead,
grateful that my workday is over. It had been a very busy shift
and I am pretty sure I have done well. After counting my cash
and the tips left on credit card receipts, I smile. I have indeed
done well, and just as I normally do after every shift, I silently
thank the heavens for blessing me with the money I need.
Somehow I am always able to reach my nightly goal.
After I pay my rent and buy some groceries, I will have a
little money left to buy a new pair of shoes, which I desperately
need. I need other things as well, but they will just have to wait.
One of my coworkers calls from behind the bar, “Cisely,
you need a ride home?” I gratefully accept the offer. It saves
me the taxi fare I would have to pay because there are no buses
running late at night.
By the time I get to the small apartment I call home, I am
so exhausted, I can barely get changed into my pajamas.
Slipping
into
bed,
I turn
out
the
light,
hoping
my
tiredness is a good sign. Maybe I will be able to forgo the usual
thoughts that haunt me, no matter how hard I try to keep them
away. Maybe tonight I will have some peace. But as soon as I
close my eyes, the familiar feelings of loneliness and doubt of
my worth fill my heart once more.
Not tonight. I won’t feel this way tonight.

Instead, I try to focus my final thoughts on a dream I had
a week ago today. In the dream, I sat next a little boy on the
bank of a beautiful river. He was young, but his emerald eyes
were full of wisdom. He told me that because I have changed
my life, new changes will soon come, and I will be blessed with
great and marvelous things.

He said there is a wonderful life prepared for me. And
though I will still go through sorrow and great trials, I will one
day come to experience joy unlike any I have ever known. He
told me these things were promised to me before this life and
will only be mine if I remain strong.

I have no idea what those changes will be. I only hope I
will be ready for the future and everything that will come with
it. I also hope I will be worthy of these wondrous gifts when
they do come.

Having
stuffed my
last
pair
of
jeans
into
a
large
suitcase, I zip it shut and hope the seams won’t burst. It was
given to me by a friend because I've never had one of my own.
I've never traveled anywhere before to need one, and until now,
I never thought I would. After filling the carry-on bag with the
few cosmetics and toiletries I possess, I take in my reflection in
the large mirror hanging above an old, cracked dresser that
until today, held all of my clothes. It has to be the oldest piece
of furniture in the apartment.

Studying the brown-skinned woman looking back at me, I
smile, but my honey-colored eyes hold a sadness I have never
been able to rid them of. People have always told me I have sad
eyes. I know it is true, yet they aren't privy the pain behind my
eyes. I have never let anyone get close enough. I don’t know if
I ever will.

Running a brush through the dark auburn hair hanging
down
past
my
shoulders,
I push
it
back
with
a
brown
headband. I ponder adding a few curls but decide against it.
Straightening the collar of the yellow blouse I purchased for
this trip, I apply some clear gloss to my full lips, a coat of
mascara to my lashes, and a touch of blush to my cheeks.
Studying my reflection once more, I decide this is as good as
it's going to get.

I have always considered myself average looking, and I
just don't see what others say they see when they looked at me.
I have been told by the people around me that I am beautiful–
that my skin is satiny smooth, my voluptuous figure very trim,
and my voice is like silk to the ears. Truthfully, I have never
seen any of these things and I can't help but wonder how and
why others see them. Pondering this a moment, I deduct that
my
mind has
somehow
been
trained to
think
there
isn’t
anything about me that is worth much, and no matter how hard
I try to tell myself otherwise, all I ever see are flaws.

Sighing, I sit on the edge of the bed and look around the
almost bare studio apartment I've lived in for the past year and
a half. A bout of sadness envelops me as I think about my life
up to this point, and once again, I begin to doubt my worth.

In my twenty-two years of life, I have seen and suffered
things no one should have to. Having been raised by an
alcoholic mother and an abusive father, childhood was nothing
but miserable for me. From the age of six to twelve years old,
when other children were laughing and playing and sharing
secrets with their friends, I was a woman-child, barely surviving
and telling my secrets to no one. In the afternoons after school
when I should have been busy being a child, I was subjected to
the screams of my mother as my father beat her. And at night
while other children were safely tucked in their beds and
sleeping, I was forced to endure the sickening presence of my
father in my room as he abused and defiled me.

One day my mother finally found the courage to leave her
husband. She packed our things while he was working and
moved us from Charlotte back to her hometown of Asheville.
Unfortunately, the move was too little, too late, for my life had
been permanently scarred. And it didn’t help that every man my
mother moved into our home seemed to think I should be part
of the deal.

Throughout my life I felt dirty and cheap, but more than
anything, I felt alone. There was no one I could turn to and
share my painful burdens. Later in life, that loneliness guided
me to make decisions that only added to my misery, bringing
even more shame upon me.

A single tear slips down my cheek as I remember the days
and nights of endless partying, each episode filled with drugs,
alcohol, and sometimes immoral conduct. When I was younger,
my father made it his solemn duty to tell me repeatedly that I
was worthless and only good for one thing in life. It seemed his
comments found a permanent place in my mind and heart. My
father had foreseen my future and helped as much as he could
to make that future happen. But I know in the end the choices
had been my own, just as the choice to finally change my life
had been.

A heavy melancholy encompasses me as I think back to
the day I made the decision to abandon the self-destructive
lifestyle. It was a little over a year ago. I had just gotten home
from work. I was tired, my feet were sore after working all day
waiting tables, and I was looking forward to a tall can of beer
and some rest. I had just sat down when there was a knock at
the door.

When I opened the door to a braid-wearing teenage girl
donning heavy makeup, a dirty mini skirt, and scuffed up high
heels–one of them broken–my first words were, “Sorry, no
customers at this house.”

She gave me a teary smile and replied, “I'm not looking
for a customer . . . I'm looking for a way out.”
Warm tears trail down my face as I ponder how my heart
had instantly gone out to her. I knew the life she'd lived and
what she'd suffered before reaching this point. No, I didn't
know
her
; I had never seen her before. But I
knew,
because I
had been there, myself.
Stepping aside, I invited her in and listened as she talked,
my suspicions about her abusive childhood confirmed. I fed
her and gave her some clothes to change into. Taking the tips
I'd made that day from my purse, I called a cab, took her to the
bus station, and put her on a bus to Raleigh to go and live with
her aunt. Arriving back home, I sat on the sofa, closed my eyes
and cried. Nothing I'd ever done in my life left me feeling as
much peace as that one act had.
I immediately threw away every bit of alcohol in the
apartment, vowing to never take another drink, pop another
pill, or smoke another joint for the rest of my life. I stopped
partying and made a commitment to change my life. I was
determined to do this, despite family members and friends
telling me I would never change. Sadly, there was no support
from anyone except the counselor assigned to me when I
enrolled in a free substance abuse program. No one in my
family, nor the people I associated with, would let go of the
past. So how was I supposed to? I couldn’t escape it because it
surrounded me and was constantly being thrown back in my
face.
Even now, I still struggle with doubts. I've listened to
several motivational talks on learning to forgive oneself, letting
go of past mistakes and moving on, but the messages never
seem to stick, and in my heart I continue to feel too unworthy
to deserve more in life. We reap what we sow, as they say. I
haven't sown enough good.
Opening my purse, I pull out a letter that came in the
mail three weeks ago. It is from an older woman I met a couple
of months ago when she was visiting from Salt Lake City.
I met Jessica Kelly at a motivational conference for
women that was held downtown. We sat next to each other and
were instantly taken with one another. At the close of the
conference, Jessica told me she wanted to get to know me
better. Reflex prompted me to ask why–there had to be a
hidden reason, of course–but I bit my tongue.
We had lunch together the next day. And throughout that
week when I wasn’t working, I spent a great deal of time with
her and we did many things together, seeing and visiting places
in the city that I never thought I would.
Jessica managed to get me to open up a little about my
life, something I had never done before. I don't know how she
did it. Maybe a deeper part of me
needed
to share, if only to
relieve a little pressure. Though I didn’t give many details, the
little I shared with her brought the poor woman to tears. I
hated making her cry, but I appreciated that she cared.
In that week, I grew to care about Jessica a great deal, and
I found myself wishing my own mother could be more like her.
How
sad that
in
just
one
week
I developed more
of
a
relationship with the older woman than I ever had with my
own mother.
Jessica told me she had always been alone. She never
married and it saddened her that she was never blessed with
children of her own. And except for the times her nephew
came to visit her from Australia, her life was basically a solitary
one.
I read the letter again in renewed awe. Jessica has invited
me to come and stay with her for a while in Salt Lake City. She
even sent a plane ticket with the letter, making it harder for me
to say no, just as she had known it would. She knows me well.
I've never dreamed of going so far away, and to say I am
nervous is an understatement. But the excitement of starting
over somewhere where no one knows me or anything about my
past overrides my nervousness. I re-read the last part of the
letter.
Now I know you don’t like to feel like you’re not pulling your own
weight, so before you say no, I just want to tell you I own a women’s
clothing boutique downtown. One of my sales ladies had to quit suddenly.
The position is yours if you want it. It is only three days a week, so we will
still have plenty of time to visit and sight see, and of course, shop. We’re
going to have the time of our lives! It will mean so much to me to have you
here, Cisely. More than you could ever know. Call me soon.
Much love,
Jessica
.