by Eve Gaddy
JONAS DIDN’T HAVE time to think about anything other than work until he went home that evening. But as he lay in bed waiting for sleep, the scene with Claire and her husband and father-in-law came back to him. It wasn’t as if he’d never had to deal with bigotry before, but he wasn’t even Lawrence Westbrook’s doctor. The man’s reaction seemed excessive and out of place. As if he’d conceived an instant dislike for Jonas when Jonas was positive they’d never met before.
So why did he have this weird feeling that he knew the man?
Fort Worth, Texas, September 1968
CALVIN DAVIS INTENDED to get the hell out of Fort Worth, Texas, and he didn’t mean to go by way of Vietnam. No, his ticket out was college deferment. Basketball, to be exact. Calvin was good, and he knew it. He intended to be so good that the University of Southern California would give him a free ride.
He had competition, yeah. But not only was Calvin good at basketball, he was a damn good student. And he should be hearing any day about his scholarship. Then he’d be out of Texas and out of the damn draft.
He was so busy dreaming about his scholarship he almost missed the pink ‘55 Caddy by the side of the road. He knew that car, and he knew that girl. Trouble, in the guise of a sexy brunette by the name of Isabel Cantrell. Every guy in school wanted to date her, and not many of them had managed to make it happen.
Isabel didn’t date black guys. She didn’t date many white ones, either, but when she did go out it was with someone her daddy would consider her social equal.
Her father, Buster Cantrell, owned Westside Bank, the largest privately owned bank in Fort Worth. Buster Cantrell had made a name for himself as the meanest son of a bitch Fort Worth had ever produced. And he didn’t like colored folk, not one little bit. So it wasn’t surprising that Isabel wouldn’t date a black guy. Her old man would kill her if she did. Not to mention what he’d do to the boy.
But she was stuck by the side of the road, and there wasn’t a soul in sight, and he’d bet his last nickel she didn’t have idea one how to change that flat. So he pulled up behind her and got out. It wouldn’t be right to ignore her. Besides, his mother had drilled it into his head that you never passed by a person in need without lending a helping hand.
“Need some help?”
Relief chased nerves across her face. Relief someone had stopped, nerves that it had been a black guy? It annoyed him—partly because he had to admit he’d had a fantasy going about her ever since he’d first set eyes on her. But he wouldn’t hurt her, or any woman. She didn’t know him, though, so she might not realize that.
“I have a flat,” she said. “I’m Bella Cantrell. Don’t I know you?”
Bella. It suited her, better than Isabel did. “Not really.” He shrugged and added, “But I go to Paschal, too.”
“I know who you are,” she said, happy with her discovery. “You’re Calvin Davis. Basketball. Our star guard.”
Okay, that made his chest stick out a little. “I wouldn’t say that.” But he was glad she had.
“I would. I’ve watched you play. You’re amazing.”
Embarrassed, he ignored the flattery. “What’s the problem here?”
“I don’t suppose you can change a flat?” she asked, gesturing at the rear tire.
He gave her a look and said, “I need the trunk opened.”
She went to the trunk and opened it. “I hope everything you need is in here, because I’ve never had to change a flat before.”
No duh. Calvin felt her watching him as he muscled the spare out, then went for the jack.
“It was nice of you to stop. I’ve been sitting here half an hour and no one else has been by.”
“What are you doing all the way out here anyway?” Calvin asked. He’d been coming back from his job in Grapevine but not many people traveled this road. “You’re pretty much smack in the middle of nowhere.”
She hunkered down beside him, which was pretty interesting since her skirt barely covered her butt. “Running away,” she said easily.
He shot her a glance. “No shit?”
She laughed. “Well, no, but I wish I had been. I had a fight with my father, so I did what I always do and got as far out of town as I could. He doesn’t like me to drive out of the city limits, so I do it to tick him off.”
It wouldn’t have surprised Calvin if her old man had sent the cops after her. “What was the fight about?” he asked, not really expecting her to answer. But she did.
“College. He wants me to go to TCU and live at home and I want to go anywhere else but there. I am not living with him. Not any longer than I absolutely have to.”
“Good luck. You don’t get along with your daddy, huh?”
“Nobody gets along with Buster Cantrell. Especially not his children.”
He’d taken off all the lug nuts by now, and she held them, watching him closely as he took off the flat and put on the spare.
“My sister Sophie doesn’t get along with him, either,” she continued. “But she’s better at hiding it than I am.”
Calvin snorted. “No offense, but you live like a princess. Kinda hard to feel sorry for you.”
“You have no idea,” she said bleakly. Then she shook it off and added brightly, “Haven’t you heard? Money doesn’t buy everything.”
“Maybe not, but it buys a hell of a lot.” He thought about his mom working three jobs to support them when he was younger. Until he managed to start bringing in some money and she was able to quit one of them. Yeah, money would help.
“What’s your dad like?” Bella asked.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “He took off when he heard my mom was pregnant.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No big deal. My mom’s enough.” He grinned, thinking about his mother. Fay Davis made damn sure he toed the line. Bella handed him a lug nut, and swear to God, his hand tingled where she’d touched it. Startled, he met her eyes. She’d felt it too, he could tell by her expression. Weird.
They talked some more, Bella telling him more about her plan to escape. He didn’t say it, but he didn’t think she had a hope in hell of getting out from under her old man’s thumb. He finished up, conscious of a feeling of regret that she’d be driving off and out of his life. “That should last you until you can drop the flat off at the gas station.”
“Thank you so much,” she said, wiping her hands on the back of that tiny skirt. She held one out to him, and he took it. And damn, there it was again. That feeling of . . . connection. He got lost in her eyes. They were different, like nothing he’d seen before. One green, the other half-green, half-blue. Weird, but beautiful.
He knew for a fact he hadn’t seen them before, so why did they seem so familiar?
“Calvin?” she said. “Would you like to go to a movie with me Friday night?”
No girl had ever asked Calvin out. Oh, they’d made it plain they wouldn’t mind going out with him, but no one had ever dared to actually ask him. And sure as hell no girl like Isabel Cantrell. A white girl. A rich white girl.
Calvin shook his head. “I’m sure your daddy would love that.” And it hit him, left a nasty feeling in his gut. “You’ll have to find another way to get to the old man.”
She flushed, then grew angry. “That isn’t why I asked you.”
“Sure it isn’t.”
“It isn’t,” she insisted. “Don’t you feel it?”
What he felt was pissed.
“Don’t you feel the connection? I mean, I know it’s the first time we’ve ever talked but I feel like I know you. And you know me.”
Maybe he did. “That doesn’t mean I’m going out with a white girl whose father thinks blacks are one step lower than dog shit.”
“I’m not my father. And he doesn’t have to know. We can go to a drive-in or something.�
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He was crazy to even consider it. But damn, she was pretty. She obviously wanted a little walk on the wild side. A colored boy dating a white girl . . . risky. Very risky. Was he willing to take the chance? If her father found out, he’d get the hell beat out of him. At least. She smiled at him, waiting for an answer.
“I’ll meet you at the Twin. Do you know it?” he said.
“No, but I’ll find it.”
He gave her the address. “Nine o’clock, Friday.”
She smiled. “See you there,” she said and slid her sweet little butt into that pink Caddy. He watched as she pulled out and drove off, giving a little wave of her hand out the window.
Oh, man. He bet dollars to donuts she wouldn’t show. But if she did . . . . This date had mistake written all over it. He knew he’d be there.
But would Bella?
Chapter Five
September Present Day
CLAIRE SMILED AT Jonas as he walked through the ER. Since their impromptu breakfast, she’d thought about him a lot. Her odd dreams had increased in number as well. She wondered if there was a connection, but didn’t see why there would be. It wasn’t as if she were dreaming about Jonas, after all. No, she dreamed of people she didn’t know. People who had lived in a previous century. A woman named Sarah and a man named Elijah. A man who happened to look astonishingly like Jonas.
How weird was that?
“Admit it,” Lanie said. “You’re hot for the man.”
“Hot for who?” Claire asked, though since she’d just been gazing at Jonas like a lovesick puppy, she didn’t need to ask.
“You know who. Dr. Jonas Hottie.”
Claire shot her an annoyed look. “I am not hot for anyone, least of all Jonas Clark. I merely said he was good looking.” Why she’d admitted that much to Lanie, she didn’t know. Lanie’s memory was phenomenal. She never forgot anything, even if you wished she would. No, make that especially if you wished she would forget.
“I’ll say. All the single women are making plans to snare him. And some of the married ones.” She smiled. “He’s into you, too. I can tell.”
“I’m married,” Claire reminded her. “Besides, I hardly know the man.” She refused to tell Lanie about the breakfast she and Jonas had shared. Lord knows what her friend would make of that outing. Claire wasn’t sure what to make of it herself. It had been a perfectly innocent meeting, so why did she feel guilty?
Because she wanted more?
Jonas seemed strangely familiar, but she was certain she had never met him until recently. Not in high school or anywhere else. Determinedly, she went back to her charts, unsuccessfully trying to ignore her friend as well as the questions swirling about in her head.
“Sometimes you just know. Instantly. That’s the way I felt about Joe.”
Claire glanced up and glared at her. “What part of I’m married don’t you get?”
Lanie waved a hand. “Unhappily married.”
“Regardless, I’ve never cheated and I don’t intend to start now. All this is beside the point, anyway. Jonas hasn’t made a move on me or anything approaching it.”
“Oh, please,” Lanie held up a hand, interrupting her. “It doesn’t take a genius to read between the lines. He’s interested. You’re interested. You’ve been unhappy since the day you married Glenn Westbrook. Do something about it.”
“All marriages go through rough patches.”
“Honey, as far as I can tell, you’ve never had much of anything but a rough patch.”
Claire closed her eyes. “If I admit that there are problems, then I have to do something about it.”
“So?”
Do something. Like ask for a divorce? It wouldn’t be the end of the world. But it would mean admitting defeat. Admitting she’d made a colossal mistake.
Lanie continued impatiently. “Claire, you made a mistake. People do.”
“I don’t see how I could have been so wrong about Glenn. About the two of us.”
“What’s he done now?”
It was what he hadn’t done. When they’d begun having problems early in the marriage, Claire had suggested counseling. Glenn had vetoed it then, and every other time she’d suggested it. By now their marriage was so bad that Glenn hadn’t touched her in months. Not that she wanted him to, but it was hard to try to save a relationship when you slept in separate bedrooms and neither party seemed interested in fixing that. She’d been the one to move out, but he hadn’t argued.
“The marriage isn’t working,” she finally admitted. “Hasn’t in a long time.”
“Is this because of Jonas?”
“Of course not. I told you, there’s nothing between Jonas and me.” Which was a big fat lie. There was clearly something there. She just didn’t know what. He was so damn familiar. Sometimes she even felt as if she knew what it was like to kiss him, which was clearly insane. “Have you ever experienced déjà vu?”
Lanie accepted the apparent change of subject. She must have decided she’d pushed Claire as far as she should for one day. “Sure. Why?”
“No, I mean, a real déjà vu.” She tried to explain that it wasn’t the same as those nebulous experiences everyone has and calls déjà vu. “I’m talking about a feeling, no, a knowledge, that something has happened before.”
“Everybody has those, Claire.”
Clearly she wasn’t getting through to Lanie. “This is different.” She couldn’t explain it, but what she was experiencing was unlike anything that had happened to her before.
“Does this déjà vu have to do with Jonas?”
She nodded. “I feel as if I’ve known him before.”
“You said you both grew up around here. Maybe you met him. When you two were younger.”
“No. I’d remember. I think he would too. But damn, I feel as if I know him. Really know him. Not just casually, either. Like we were involved.” Lovers. “It’s a spooky feeling.” Made even spookier by those dreams she’d begun having. Dreams of a place and time long ago, and a man who looked so much like Jonas. Waking up with tears streaming down her face. A sorrow too deep to bear.
She was going crazy. Obviously.
Rachel’s Journal—April 2, 1859
Many people down here have heard of the Underground Railroad. But they think of it as a northern thing. Very few, besides the slave catchers, realize there is another Underground Railroad. One that runs from Texas to Mexico. Many Southerners think it is wrong to help people escape the bonds of slavery. They cite disaster for plantation owners and have many reasons to justify the owning of another human being. Perhaps it’s my father’s influence, but I cannot believe this is right. And my dear husband, Ben, agrees. But then, he comes from the North, where slavery is not tolerated as well.
How did I get involved in such a thing? Through my father. By chance, when I discovered him helping a slave to flee. He swore me to secrecy, would not even let me tell my sister, Sarah. But the time has come to talk to Sarah. I know she feels the same as I do. We have talked about the evils of slavery. How she can live with that monster of a husband, I do not know. I curse the day Father—and I—allowed her to marry him.
But we need help, and Sarah can offer it. Her husband’s plantation sits in a strategic location. Add to that the fact that Victor is often away, and it is perfect. Yet I do fear for Sarah if she were to be caught offering help to the slaves. Would Victor harm her, his own wife? It must be up to Sarah to decide if it is worth the risk.
Reluctantly, Claire closed the journal. As fascinating as it was, she needed to get to sleep. A dreamless sleep, preferably.
April 1859
“RACHEL, WHAT IS IT?” Sarah asked as soon as the servants left the parlor. “I’m happy to see you but you usually let me know you’re coming.”
“I had something to talk to y
ou about and I wanted to make sure Victor was not home when I did.”
“You saw him in town, I take it.”
“At the store.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “Never mind him. I wanted to talk to you about something important. More important than anything else we shall ever do.” She looked around and not seeing anyone, lowered her voice. “Not that I expect your slaves will talk, but we must be careful.”
“Careful about what?”
“Have you heard of the Underground Railroad?”
Sarah stared at her. “Of course I have. That’s what they call it when they help slaves get away. Up north. What has that to do with us?”
“It’s not only up north. We have one right here in Texas too. Only most of our slaves go west, or south to Mexico.”
Rachel and the Underground Railroad? Sarah had never imagined such a thing. Their father was sympathetic to the abolitionists, but would he go so far as to be involved in smuggling slaves to freedom? “Rachel, are you involved in this? Does Ben know? Are you crazed? They hang white folks who help the darkies escape.”
“You know Father is sympathetic to the slaves.”
“I know, but I did not know Ben was.”
“Ben is an abolitionist. He has been since before I married him.”
“Ben is—your husband is an abolitionist?” Rachel hushed her, and she lowered her voice. “Good Lord, does Father know?”
“Yes, of course he does. We have all been helping the slaves for some time now. But we need more help. And I thought of you.” Another quick glance at the door to the parlor. “Father and Ben do not know I came to ask you. They never would allow it. They fear your husband.”
“With good reason. You know what he’s like. I can’t. Rachel, Victor would kill me if he found out.” She thought of how Victor had reacted to her intervention when he “disciplined” one of his slaves. He’d given the man twice as many lashes. She’d learned not to interfere, only when she knew Victor was gone would she check on the slaves and do what she could to help them. But escape? No matter her personal beliefs, she couldn’t afford to help escaped slaves.