Читать книгу Legacy of Love - Donna Hill, Donna Hill - Страница 8

Zoe decided to forego the ten-minute drive to work and opted to walk instead, making up for her missed visits to the gym over the past week. She strolled, her mind and spirit lifted by the warmth of the morning sun and the soft breeze that carried the scent of blooming flowers and the secret aroma of the South—rich, lush, troubled, ever changing…and something burning. She quickened her pace.

The sound of screaming sirens drew closer and when she reached the corner she saw grey smoke billowing out of one of the buildings on the street. A crowd began to gather even as the fireman urged them back.

Zoe’s hand flew to the center of her chest. “Oh, no.” Slowly she approached the growing crowd. The hair on her arms and at the back of her neck seemed to rise. Her heart pounded. For a moment she felt light-headed and swayed where she stood. The scene in front of her started to recede.

“Are you all right?”

A strong arm gripped her around the waist, keeping her from sinking to her knees. Her rescuer guided her across the street and helped her to sit down on a bench.

Zoe sucked in long breaths of air trying to clear her head.

“Smoke must have gotten to you,” the voice was saying.

She shook her head to clear it and looked into the most incredible pair of dark eyes that were staring at her with concern. She knew those eyes, that voice. But that was not possible. She didn’t know this man. Fear crept through her body. She wanted to run, but she couldn’t make her body move.

“Sit right here, I’m going to get you some water.”

She watched him rise and tower above her, the same image that came to her in her dreams. Her stomach dipped and rose and dipped again. She gripped the arm of the bench.

He hurried down the crowded street, weaving his way around the clutch of bodies, trucks and fire hoses.

Another fire truck screamed onto the street. Flames leaped from one building to the next. Shouts rang out from the crowd as they were urged back by fireman and now the police. News vans pulled onto the street.

Zoe got to her feet and was suddenly caught up in the crowd that was being pushed back by the police.

“Move it back! Move it back!”

Zoe merged with the throng, swept along with the wave of bodies until she was ushered off of the street. The farther she moved from the scene the clearer her thoughts became. She tried to spot him, convince herself that he was real and not some trick of her imagination. He was gone, as if he never existed. He probably didn’t, she told herself as she took an alternate route to the museum.

By the time she arrived she felt exhausted, drained as if she hadn’t slept and then worked all day. Yet, it was barely nine o’clock, and for the first time in weeks she’d actually slept through the night.

Zoe greeted the security guard, swiped her ID card through the slot and proceeded to her office. Once inside she slipped out of her suit jacket and just as she was about to hang it up on the hook, that familiar scent filled her senses. She pulled the jacket to her nose. Instead of hints of smoke and soot from the fire it smelled like…him.

Her hands shook and the jacket fell from her fingers.

The phone on her desk rang and she jumped a half inch off the floor.

Exhaling deeply, she returned to her desk and picked up the phone. “Zoe Beaumont.” Slowly she lowered herself into her seat.

“Zoe, it’s Mama.”

Zoe sat straight up. Her mother never called her at work. They saved their long, often giggly conversations for Sunday afternoons.

“Mama, what is it?”

“Your grandmother’s been asking for you.”

“Is Nana all right? What’s wrong?”

“I…I don’t know. She’s getting more distant everyday. Most days she thinks it’s fifty years ago. The only thing that makes sense is her asking for you. You have to come, baby.”

“I was planning to come this weekend. But if you think I need to leave earlier I will. Sharlene is driving down with me.” She could feel her mother’s relief seep through the phone.

“Good. I’ll fix up the guest room. Thank you, baby.”

“Ma, you don’t have to thank me. Please. You take it easy. Where are Aunt Flo and Aunt Fern?”

“Taking turns looking after your grandmother. She hardly notices…” Her voice cracked. “Just come as soon as you can.”

“I will. I promise. Give my love to Nana.”

Zoe replaced the phone in the cradle. She’d heard the anxiety and fear in her mother’s voice. Miraya Beaumont was as reliable as the North Star. Nothing threw her off course. So to hear uncertainty in her mother’s voice completely unnerved Zoe.

She swiveled her chair toward her computer, and powered it up, intent on finding a flight out of Atlanta that wouldn’t bankrupt her. Just as the search engine got her to the website, Mike came in.

“Hey. Good morning. What’s up?”

“Morning. Did you hear about the big fire up on 9th?”

“I was there.”

Mike frowned. “What?”

“I mean, I decided to walk today and literally walked right into it. Awful.” She shook her head at the memory. “It looked like the whole block was going to go up in flames.” A little shiver went through her as the image of the man of her dreams invaded her senses.

“It’s been on all the news channels, but it looks like they finally got it under control.”

“Thank goodness. I hope no one got hurt.”

“Yeah.” He came around to the side of her desk. “Here are the bills for last month’s shipments.”

“Just leave them. I’ll take care of it.” The Delta Air Lines home page filled her computer screen.

Mike dropped the folders on her desk and spied the page. “Vacation?”

“Not really. I need to get home in a hurry.”

“Everything cool?”

“It’s my grandmother.” She keyed in her information. “I was planning on driving down this weekend, but my mom called just a little while ago and she sounded…” Her fingers flew across the keys. She sniffed, pulled open her desk drawer to get her purse. She took out her wallet and flipped through the compartments for her Visa card, keyed in the numbers and waited.

“I think it’s best that I don’t wait.” She swallowed the knot in her throat.

“Hey, do what you have to do. Family first. I got this. Don’t worry about it.”

Zoe forced a smile. “Thanks.”

The screen flashed her confirmation number and the button to print her itinerary and boarding pass. She pressed Print.

Mike placed a large comforting hand on her shoulder. She tilted her head toward him and blinked back the tears burning in her eyes.

“Need a lift to the airport?”

“No. My flight is at 6:00 a.m. I wouldn’t do that to anyone,” she said, only half joking.

“It’s not a problem.” He stepped back. “Just let me know.”

She bobbed her head. “Thanks.”

Mike strolled out.

Mike really was a great guy. He was intelligent, hard working, fun, sexy. He definitely had it all. She sighed. But even with all that she couldn’t take her mind off of what had happened to her less than an hour earlier. The impression of him, his scent, the look in his eyes, the arch of his cheekbones, the curve of his bottom lip.

Her heart raced as the image of her night stalker come to life replayed in her mind. Yet her pulse didn’t race with fear or trepidation, but rather with anticipation and curiosity. Who was he really and why did he have that kind of effect on her? Was he really the man of her dreams? She logged off of the Delta site and laughed lightly to herself. There you go being ridiculous. If that were true, then it meant that she really was buying into all that foolishness that her mother, aunts and grandmother had been saying for as long as she could remember. Ridiculous.

Her grandmother. Nana Zora was the thread that held the fabric of her family together. She couldn’t imagine her family without Nana Zora. Growing up, Nana had been more of a mother to her than her own mother, Miraya, had ever been. Her mother was an aspiring singer and spent most of Zoe’s youth and young adulthood traveling the country, moving from one nightclub or lounge to the other. One disappointment too many and a cigarette short of losing her voice altogether, Miraya returned to her hometown of New Orleans and tried to put her life back together and bond with a daughter she barely knew.

It was Nana Zora who encouraged Zoe to pursue her love of the arts, which she insisted Zoe had inherited from her mother. Zoe believed differently. It was her Nana who nurtured her passion for art and painting and her interest in history and other cultures. By the time Miraya Beaumont returned to New Orleans, Zoe had traveled and studied and mapped out her future—without the help or guidance of her mother. It took time and a lot of patience, forgiveness and a lot of coaxing from Nana but they’d finally found their way to each other.

It was also her grandmother who firmly believed in the legacy of the Beaumont women. As much as she didn’t want to buy into the old wives’ tale and family lore, everything that her grandmother, her mother and her aunts had said was slowly coming to pass.

She picked up the phone to call Sharlene and let her know about her change of plans and wondered what her grandmother would say about the inexplicable events that had made their way into her life.

“Tomorrow morning?”

“I don’t want to wait until the weekend. My mother sounded scared and she never sounds scared.”

“Let me rearranged my schedule. Give me your flight number and I’ll book my ticket as well.”

“Sharl, that’s too much. You don’t have to—”

“I know that. I want to. She’s my Nana, too. And you’re my sister. I’ll call you back in a few.”

Zoe squeezed the receiver in her hand and briefly shut her eyes. She wouldn’t admit to Sharlene just how much she needed her. She didn’t have to. Sharlene already knew.