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 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.
