Legacy of Love. Donna Hill
have a talk with her before I leave. And speaking of leaving, I’m taking Friday off. I’m driving down to see my family.”
“Cool. For how long?”
“Just the weekend. I’ll be back on Monday. Sharlene is going with me.”
Mike nodded. He pushed away from the door. “Please talk to your girl.”
“I will. I promise.”
“See you later.” He turned and walked away.
Zoe folded her hands on top of her desk. Could it be Mike? she wondered. She shook her head. Now she was starting to think like her crazy family and her even crazier best friend. But as much as she tried, it was getting harder to ignore the feelings.
Jackson returned to his two-bedroom town house following his early evening run and went straight to the living room to turn on his 52-inch flat-screen television. It was his biggest purchase since moving into his new space. How many mornings had he awakened on the used leather couch, having fallen asleep in front of the flat screen?
There was a time falling asleep on the couch would have never happened. Instead of being eager to settle down in front of the television with a stack of papers to grade, he would look forward to undressing Carla and loving every inch of her body.
He pointed the remote at the television, kicked off his sneakers and stretched out on the couch. Carla was in his rearview mirror. It had been more than two years since they’d seen or spoken to each other. “It was him, not her,” he’d said to the woman he’d thought he would marry. He’d tried to explain, to erase the look of hurt and disbelief from her eyes. The truth was he couldn’t explain it to himself.
In the months leading up to their breakup, he’d felt himself pulling away from Carla as if drawn by some unseen force—the same force that brought him to Atlanta. The same force that filled his dreams at night, clouded his thoughts during the day and the scent that wafted under his nostrils when he least expected it. Like today.
He surfed through the channels and finally settled on MSNBC. He was still bummed by the changing lineup, but it was still one of the best cable news channels on the air. He crossed his feet at the ankles, but instead of concentrating on the latest developments in the Middle East, his thoughts segued to the strange feelings he’d experienced at the restaurant and the brief glimpse of that woman. He exhaled a deep breath. The woman he thought he had to see. He pressed his fingers over his eyes. Whatever was going on with him seemed to have escalated in the past few weeks. But in the midst of all the weirdness, he knew somehow this was where he was meant to be. For what, he wasn’t sure. At some point it would all work itself out.
He was between dozing and half listening to Rachel Maddow when the vibrations of his cell phone broke into the lazy rhythm that was lulling him to sleep. Groaning, he turned to his side and dug his cell phone out of his sweatpants pocket. He held the iPhone up in front of him. His sister’s name and number were lit up on the screen.
“Hey, sis.”
“Did I wake you?”
“No. Just watching a little TV. Whatsup?” He stifled a yawn.
Michelle chuckled. “You were always such a bad liar. But since I woke you up, how are you?”
He tucked his hand behind his head. “Aw, now why do we have to start off with the name-calling?” he teased. His twin sister was more than a sibling. They were best friends. Jackson often felt bad that he didn’t have that same level of connection with their older brother, Franklin. But Franklin was fifteen years older than his twin brother and sister and they were as much a surprise to him—upsetting his status as the only child—as their arrival was to their stunned parents. In their years growing up, Franklin was more of a father, rather than an older brother. Long before they were out of grade school, Franklin was off to college, and then marriage with children of his own.
“It’s true,” she volleyed back. “You can pretend with everyone except me. Those are the rules. Anyway, you’ve been on my mind all day. Is everything cool?”
Jackson stared up at the ceiling for a moment. Before he’d left New Orleans for Atlanta, he’d confessed to his sister about the strange pull he’d been feeling, and that somehow his destiny was in Atlanta.
“It’s getting stronger,” he finally said.
Michelle was quiet for a moment. “Anything new…different?”
“I thought I saw her today.”
“What? Really? What did she look like?”
“Whoa, hold on.” He chuckled. “I mean I didn’t actually see her. I kind of thought I might have caught a glimpse of her.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew how ridiculous they sounded.
“Hmm, like an impression,” Michelle deduced.
Jackson grinned. If anyone could understand it would be Michelle. “Exactly.” He went on to explain what had transpired earlier in the day.
“You made the right decision, Jackson, about everything. Keep opening yourself and the answers will come. I firmly believe that.”
“So do I, sis.”
They talked for a while longer about the family, their respective jobs and then Michelle revealed the other reason for her call. “Carla is getting married. The announcement was in the Time-Picayune last weekend.”
The news barely stirred him. He was only mildly surprised that he didn’t feel something more. “I’m happy for her. I wasn’t the one.”
“I want you to be happy, too. And my sixth sense tells me that it’s only a matter of time.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
“You do that. I haven’t been wrong yet. Listen, gotta run. We’ll talk soon. Okay?”
“Yep. Tell Travis hello and give my niece a kiss for me.”
“Will do. Love ya.”
“Back at you.”
Jackson placed the phone on the coffee table. Michelle was right. Her intuition was always on point. How it was going to finally play out, however, was anyone’s guess.
Chapter 3
Zoe decided to forego the ten-minute drive to work and opted to walk instead, making up for her missed visits to the gym over the past week. She strolled, her mind and spirit lifted by the warmth of the morning sun and the soft breeze that carried the scent of blooming flowers and the secret aroma of the South—rich, lush, troubled, ever changing…and something burning. She quickened her pace.
The sound of screaming sirens drew closer and when she reached the corner she saw grey smoke billowing out of one of the buildings on the street. A crowd began to gather even as the fireman urged them back.
Zoe’s hand flew to the center of her chest. “Oh, no.” Slowly she approached the growing crowd. The hair on her arms and at the back of her neck seemed to rise. Her heart pounded. For a moment she felt light-headed and swayed where she stood. The scene in front of her started to recede.
“Are you all right?”
A strong arm gripped her around the waist, keeping her from sinking to her knees. Her rescuer guided her across the street and helped her to sit down on a bench.
Zoe sucked in long breaths of air trying to clear her head.
“Smoke must have gotten to you,” the voice was saying.
She shook her head to clear it and looked into the most incredible pair of dark eyes that were staring at her with concern. She knew those eyes, that voice. But that was not possible. She didn’t know this man. Fear crept through her body. She wanted to run, but she couldn’t make her body move.
“Sit right here, I’m going to get you some water.”
She