Sacred Ground

by Adrienne Ellis Reeves

  Gabe stepped away, knowing she was trying to overcome her moment of weakness. He appreciated her effort, but nothing could hide the horror of what had happened from showing in her eyes.

  “How did you know?” she asked him.

  “This morning when you mentioned it had been two weeks and you were worried because Dakers and Sons hadn’t been in touch, it sounded ominous to me so I called attorney Moultrie in Charlotte and asked him to check it out since he was so close to Rock Hill. He called me several hours later. A colleague of his who lives in Rock Hill went to their office. It was empty and the phone had been disconnected. People around them said they’d left in the night.”

  “But they have our five thousand dollars,” she said.

  “I know, Makima,” Gabe said gently. “It’s a classic scam where a company moves in, lures customers through brochures, advertisements, pictures of completed projects, references from satisfied customers and schedules of payments which are just enough lower than legitimate companies’ to make doing business with them attractive. The minute they’ve made their quota of clients who’ve paid the deposit, they leave in the night, go to another small town, change their name and do it again.”

  “Can they be tracked down?”

  “Moultrie said he and his friend are going to try. Because it’s been so recent they might have a chance.”

  She dropped her head as if unable to meet his eyes. “What am I going to do?” she murmured in despair.

  Gabe yearned to take her in his arms and fight her battles for her, but she wasn’t the kind of woman who would allow that. Her independence and pride made her stand up to whatever happened.

  “Tell your attorney exactly what happened and let him take it from there. You’re not the only one responsible, Makima. It was a board decision, wasn’t it?” Gabe asked.

  “Yes. However, I was the one who found Dakers and Sons,” she said.

  “Nevertheless, you didn’t act alone. That’s what you must remember.” Gabe felt he was talking to a brick wall, the wall of perseverance and pride that made Makima who she was, but could also be a hindrance. She wasn’t listening to him at all.

  “Come on, Makima, let’s go home. I’ll drive you,” Alana said.

  When she stood, Gabe saw her sway a little from dizziness and he moved to steady her. She turned sharply away from him to take Alana’s arm.

  She was shutting him out.

  When they were outside, Calvin said, “It won’t last. She’s in shock and confusing the message with the messenger.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Gabe said as the sisters got in Makima’s car. Alana was at the wheel and she waved goodbye. Makima looked straight ahead.

  “Maybe I didn’t do the right thing after all, even though it was from friendship and caring. The board’s attorney would have found it out eventually.”

  “He should have found it out sooner than this,” Calvin said.

  “She said he called and left messages so I guess he thought that was all that was necessary.”

  “He’s not much of a lawyer. After the first week he should have been on their doorstep.”

  “You’re right.” Gabe sighed. “It would have saved so much heartbreak.” He got in his car. “See you at home.”

  Gabe wasn’t surprised to see Eugenia at Makima’s desk the next day. “She’s sick and won’t be in for the rest of the week,” Eugenia said. “I could see it coming on, you know, because she didn’t look well yesterday.”

  In his office as he worked on the plans for next year’s fund-raisers, Gabe wondered how long it would take for the news to leak out. It was a shame. Grayson people had been giving money to build the clinic for three years. Of course that five thousand wasn’t all they had for the project, but still, it represented a lot of community effort.

  Some people were going to be sympathetic and some were going to be angry and critical of the board. This was going to make it harder to continue to raise money.

  The worst thing for Makima was that she was the public face of the clinic project. That was fine when matters were going well. But now she was going to get the brunt of the blame from the public. That, on top of her strong feeling of responsibility, translates into guilt. It’s no wonder she’s ill, he thought.

  He wanted to call her but knew he’d have to wait until she was ready to talk to him. He ached for her and wished he had the right to be with her, support her, find those thieves and get the money back for her.

  That night he took a chance and dialed her number. No answer, no “please leave your number and I’ll call you back” message.

  When Calvin came in he said, “I just talked to Alana. She said Makima isn’t at her apartment. She is really sick and her mother came and took her home.”

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “It’s the flu. She has a fever and feels miserable on top of all the other.”

  “What about the board?”

  “As soon as Alana took her home, Makima called the attorney to tell him what happened. Then she began crying and was so upset Alana called their mother, who came and took Makima home. Mrs. Gray won’t let her talk to anyone just yet, Alana said.” He looked at Gabe with concern. “I’m sorry, Gabe.”

  “At least she’s getting good care and that’s the important thing.” That was vital and he found himself praying that she would soon be well.

  He sent her a big bouquet of spring flowers the next day and refrained from calling her.

  Drew called Gabe and Calvin in the evening to turn on the television. “That African guy we met is on,” he yelled. Dr. Hakim was being interviewed on a local channel. He spoke of being from Dakar in Senegal, how he’d come to America to study history and had taught a few years at a university in Washington, D.C.

  “What brings you to South Carolina?” the interviewer asked.

  “I am seeking signs of my ancestors who were brought here as slaves. When I find them I will be ready to return home. I have been away too long.”

  The program ended and Gabe turned off the set. “What kind of signs is he looking for?” he asked Calvin.

  “I don’t know. Would he think of your praise house as a sign?”

  “Maybe it would be if the Africans on this land were from Senegal, but in all of Great-Grandfather’s books and notes, I’ve seen nothing that says so. I’m certainly not going to invite Hakim here to see it.”

  Sam Williams came to breakfast Saturday to enjoy a long visit with Calvin. After he’d satisfied his curiosity about him, he asked Gabe, “I don’t know if you’ve heard anything about the clinic but there’s talk that they got gypped out of the deposit they sent to the construction company they signed a contract with.”

  “That’d be a real shame if it’s true,” Gabe said. “You don’t always know who you can trust these days.”

  “It was an upstate company, from what I heard. Probably best to stay with someone close by that you can keep an eye on.”

  “Maybe they can get a lawyer to get the money back,” Calvin said.

  “I sure hope so,” Gabe said.

  “So do I,” echoed Sam.

  Makima felt like a ghost, frail, insubstantial, disconnected from what she’d known as real life. When she’d come to her old bedroom in her parents’ house she’d been thankful to slip under the covers and let the world go away.

  Feverish and nauseous, she’d let her mother nurse her. Even when she tried to sleep, the cloud of the lost money hung over her. Her dreams were troubled and her agitation prevented her from getting any better. Mrs. Gray called the family doctor and begged him to make a house call.

  Dr. Parker examined Makima. “Listen to me, young woman,” he said sternly. “You’re not doing yourself any good and you’re worrying your mother. Once you’re well and out of this bed, you can take care of your clinic business.” She blinked in surprise. “Yes, I’ve heard that the board had a bit of bad luck but I don’t want you thinking about it now. I’m giving you some medicine for the flu symp
toms plus a strong sedative because I want your body and mind at ease. You need to rest so you can recover more quickly. Do you understand me?”

  She nodded yes. “Thank you,” she said in a weak voice.

  She slept that night, most of Saturday and most of Sunday. When she went to the bathroom Sunday evening, she was as weak as a kitten but her mind was clear for the first time. It took her forty minutes to shower and put on a clean gown. She didn’t have the strength yet to wash her hair. That would have to wait.

  Her mother had changed the bed linens in her absence and it felt so good to be clean again that she found herself smiling. “Ready for some food?” Her mother placed a steaming bowl of vegetable soup on her bed tray.

  “Do you think I can keep it down?” Makima looked at it hungrily.

  “Try a little at a time. You must have some nourishment, you know.”

  The first spoonful tasted delicious and little by little she managed to eat all of it. She snuggled down in the bed again.

  “That was good. Thanks, Mom.”

  “Now that you’re feeling a little better, would you like to talk to Gabe? He’s called so many times,” her mother said lingering at the door.

  “Not yet,” Makima said.

  When she was alone again, Makima laid on her back, her eyes wide open, and thought about Gabe. During the fog of her illness, Alana had remarked about the lovely flowers he’d sent. That was very nice of him.

  Dr. Parker had told her that when she was well she could take care of her clinic business. She was on her way to being well and she was ready to deal with the clinic.

  She was angry! More angry than she’d ever been in her life. Not at her parents who’d taken such loving care of her, but at almost everyone else.

  She was afraid to say she was angry at God so she wouldn’t put it that way. But how could He let this happen when all she was trying to do was provide a service to the community? A service that was much needed, for without it people like her baby sister could be put at risk and die?

  How could He ignore the hours of work so many people had given to make that money those thieves stole? They had put on fund-raisers in good faith to help raise the clinic money. These were not rich people. Mrs. Wilkins had six children yet she’d managed to give fifty dollars to the fund. Pressed it into Makima’s hand with a smile. “I know you all need money to build that clinic and you’ll take good care of it,” she’d said.

  What was she thinking now of her hard-earned fifty dollars? That Makima and the board hadn’t been careful enough with it.

  She could read off a whole list of people like Mrs. Wilkins who’d contributed to the clinic project. Each name just made her heart ache more and increased her anger.

  She was angry at the board. They should have done more research. Rock Hill wasn’t that far away. A few of them could have easily driven there and back, seen the people face-to-face. Asked around about them. That’s what smart people do. She and the board weren’t smart.

  She was raging with anger at Dakers and Sons or whoever they were. She was determined to do everything in her power to find them, get the money back and have them thrown in jail!

  She was angry at Gabe. No, she shouldn’t be, but she was. This whole mess wouldn’t have happened if the board had known they would be able to get the land they needed from Mr. Zeke. She didn’t care what the will said. Gabe could have done something about it! Negotiated something and then the board could have accepted the Wetherell contract and all would have been well. So really, in a sense, this debacle stemmed from Gabe’s stubbornness about the land. It was all his fault!

  Then to make matters worse, he was the one who had to look into it behind her back. She hadn’t asked him to do so. All she’d said was that she was a little worried. Did that give him permission to go call the man in Charlotte and find out Dakers had left town?

  If he knew, he could have kept it to himself. The board’s attorney would find out sooner or later. But no. Mr. High-and-Mighty Bell had to round up Calvin and Alana and come to her office to tell her the good news.

  Did it make him happy to see her faint?

  Did he remember at all that a few days before, at Calvin’s dinner party, he, Gabe, had honored her by telling the group that the board had signed the contract? People had cheered and congratulated her.

  Did he realize how humiliated she felt to learn it had all blown up in her face?

  Stupid man. He thought he was doing her a favor to come to the center to tell her, and with an audience.

  She would never forget nor forgive the humiliation he had brought on her. Never!

  Chapter 30

  Lawrence left the center whistling. He’d volunteered to help Jimmy wax the floors. A hard and long job but it was over. The weeks of being the guy who was ready to pitch in wherever needed was paying off and he couldn’t wait to tell his partner.

  He picked up some food from a hamburger stand for dinner, drove to the motel and parked the car. Hakim opened the door. “I wondered when you were coming,” he said.

  “The job took longer than I thought it would but it was worth it.” He divided the food and took a bite of his burger.

  “You found out something?” Hakim held his food, eager to hear what Lawrence had to say.

  “Jimmy said he’s lived here all his life and has always heard that there’s a treasure hidden in Mr. Zeke’s trees. That’s why there’s a six-foot-high fence around it with barbed wire on top. He said it’s supposed to be haunted.” He stopped to eat some French fries. “I don’t know how much stock to put in the haunted part, but all the boys try to climb the fence. Apparently no one has succeeded, not even the bravest boys. He tried it when he was about ten.” He stopped to take a drink of coffee.

  “What did he say happened?” Hakim asked.

  “He got halfway up with some other boys urging him on. This is always tried at night, of course. Then he got scared. ‘Scared of what?’I said. ‘I’m not sure, but I fell back down and ran away,’ he said. When I tried to press him, he changed the subject so I left it alone.”

  Hakim ate the rest of his food in silence. Intuition told him he was close to the object he’d been seeking for two years. He just needed to be patient a while longer.

  “What’s the next step?” Lawrence asked as he threw the hamburger paper in the trash.

  “We have money for another two or three weeks. By that time we’ll have what we’ve come for and we won’t have to worry about money again.”

  They’d met several years earlier and recognized in each other the ability and desire to make money any way they could, even if it meant skirting the law. Lawrence knew Hakim had been involved in illegal transactions concerning African artifacts but this present venture seemed particularly significant for him.

  “How can you be so sure?” Lawrence wanted to know.

  Hakim’s voice became resonant, his eyes closed, and his face took on a rapt expression as he described the treasure he’d seen and the power that would soon be his. “I had a vision. I saw myself holding the chest that has the amulets in it. They protect the wearer from all kinds of danger, increase their knowledge and seek the favors of superior powers in all circumstances. There’s a legend that they belonged to a holy man of great spiritual talents, faith and power. The power of the amulets increases the length of time they’ve been buried and that power, the prophecy says, is granted to whoever holds them.”

  “So I should keep going to the center to see what else I can learn?” Lawrence asked.

  “It won’t be for much longer. Keep yourself vigilant.”

  Makima was still at her parents’ home. They refused to let her go until she demonstrated to their satisfaction that she had enough strength and energy to take care of herself.

  Her mother brought in some boxes and set them on the dining-room table after breakfast on Tuesday morning. “I know you’re bored, honey. Maybe you wouldn’t mind going through these boxes of old clothes I’ve been meaning to get rid of for age
s.”

  Makima was determined to go to the Wednesday staff meeting even if she had to come back here afterward. Maybe if she showed energy in working with her mother now, she wouldn’t have to argue about going to the center tomorrow.

  She dug into the carton nearest her and brought out a pleated skirt with a matching blouse.

  “I used to wear this in high school,” she recalled. “It was a favorite of mine.”

  “I made that for you and you looked so nice in it,” her mother said nostalgically.

  Makima pulled out several more outfits from earlier school days. They brought back memories and as she emptied the box and started on another, the reminiscences she shared with her mother took her mind away from her present troubles.

  She was laughing about an incident in grade school when her hand touched something hard. Out came a carved box, flat on the bottom with a rounded lid. Even before she opened it, she blurted out, “Look, Mom. Remember this?”

  “The gift from Mr. Zeke for your eighth birthday! I’d forgotten it.”

  “So had I,” she said, tracing the carvings of childrens’ faces on the lid. “I used to make up stories about each of these children. They were my play brothers and sisters in Africa. When I told Mr. Zeke the stories he laughed like he was pleased.”

  “I’ll bet Gabe would like to see that,” her mother said with a glance at Makima.

  Makima ignored the comment as she opened the box and took out the figure that was inside. The girl, carved from a single piece of wood, had the features of the eight-year-old Makima wearing an African dress. Hanging from her finger was a small metal key with the number 2 on it.

  “What a worrywart I must have been to Mr. Zeke,” she reflected aloud, “always hanging around and pestering him with questions. That’s why he put the key on my finger. ‘A key unlocks the answer to questions,’ he said. That makes me remember something else. He made me promise not to lose the key. Naturally I asked why. ‘You’ll need it someday,’ he said.”