Sacred Ground. Adrienne Ellis Reeves

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      Although Drew said nothing more, Gabe noticed that he kept glancing over toward the speedometer.

      “What?” Gabe asked.

      “It’s still raining hard and I was wondering how fast you’re going,” Drew replied.

      “You’ve got a right to ask. It’s your life as well as mine. I’m staying at fifty until we get past this rain.”

      The rain began to lighten a little at the same time that Gabe saw a restaurant exit coming up.

      “Let’s get off here for lunch and maybe by the time we’re through, the rain will have gone.”

      “Sounds good to me.” Drew was always ready to eat.

      A busload of people began entering the restaurant, cutting between Drew and Gabe. They milled around chattering and looking at a few craft items for sale in the lobby. Gabe couldn’t see Drew for a few minutes. A group of men moved and there he was, looking anxious.

      “What happened to you? I thought maybe you went back to the car,” he said.

      Gabe slung an arm around his shoulder for a second. “I got caught in the middle of this crowd. Let’s try to beat them or we’ll be here all afternoon.”

      Drew was the prime responsibility in Gabe’s life now, and every facet of his young brother’s existence had become magnified for Gabe since the death of their parents two years earlier. Pop had caught the flu, which had turned into pneumonia, and in a few short weeks it had taken him away. While the family was still dazed by the suddenness of his death, Ma had gone the same way before the winter was out, after being caught in the freezing rain while waiting for the bus.

      When Gabe had come out of the cloud of grief that had overwhelmed him, his first thought of the future had been gratitude that he hadn’t married Olivia Eagles after all. It had been a close call but he knew she wasn’t the kind of woman who would have welcomed a teenage boy into their home. Single and unencumbered, Gabe had vowed to make Drew the center of his care.

      Although he was twice Drew’s age, Gabe had loved his little brother from the moment his mother had laid him in Gabe’s arms at the hospital.

      “You’ve always wanted a brother.” She was smiling and teary-eyed at the same time. “I expect you to take care of him.”

      Gabe thought of their mother as he and Drew were ushered to a table in the restaurant and served the soup of the day that their waitress had recommended.

      “I like soup when the weather’s like this, but this sure isn’t like the chicken-noodle soup Ma used to make.”

      “That’s why I never get soup in a restaurant,” Drew said. “This chili isn’t so bad.”

      “Ma would’ve loved this trip. She always wanted to go places,” Gabe said.

      “Yeah, you’re right. It’s funny that Pop never did, but it’s because of him that we’re going to South Carolina.”

      It had been on another afternoon three weeks ago that Gabe had received a call while he was deciding between using the ground round steak for hamburgers or for meatballs to go with spaghetti. Drew was supposed to check in any moment; Gabe would let him call it.

      The phone rang. “You want hamburgers or spaghetti and meatballs for dinner?” Gabe asked.

      “I prefer spaghetti and meatballs as long as there’s herbs and garlic in the sauce,” a man said. “Is this Mr. Gabriel Bell?”

      “Sorry. I was expecting my brother to call. I’m Gabe Bell. What can I do for you?”

      “My name is Jasper Moultrie, Mr. Bell. I’m an attorney and I have information to give you regarding your great-grandfather’s will. When would it be convenient for me to see you?”

      “Whose will?” Was this a new kind of scam? Gabe wondered. At work, in the papers and on television, there were always warnings about the ingenious ways con artists were thinking up to get your money. He didn’t know anything about a great-grandfather.

      “Ezekiel Bell was his name. He had a son named Edward who had a son named Booker. Your father, Mr. Bell.”

      Moultrie’s voice, quiet yet authoritative, made Gabe sit down at the table with the phone, prepared to give serious attention to what the attorney was saying.

      “How do you know all this?” he demanded.

      “That’s what I’d like to explain to you, Mr. Bell. I could come to your office on Chambers but I think you’d prefer hearing the details and asking questions in the privacy of your home. When may I come over?”

      He even knows where I work, Gabe thought. Maybe he’d better see this guy right away in case there really is something to this will he should know about. “How about tonight? Is that too soon?” he asked.

      “That’s fine. Shall we say eight-thirty?”

      “Fine. I live at—”

      “I know the address, Mr. Bell. See you soon.”

      “You’re in someone’s will? Does that mean you’ll get some money?” Drew asked when Gabe told him of the call.

      “I don’t know what it means, Drew. I just hope it’s all aboveboard.”

      At eight-thirty, as Gabe let Mr. Moultrie in, shook hands, introduced him to Drew and offered him a seat, he felt his skepticism fade away. Tall, his white hair setting off his dark brown skin, his features regular, and his dark eyes shadowed with glasses showing a world of experience, his presence nevertheless displayed a liking for people and a willingness to smile.

      “I haven’t been in an apartment like this for years.” He glanced appreciatively at the high ceiling, the built-in bookcases, the tall window overlooking the boulevard, the long hall through which he’d entered. The dark blue sofa and the upholstered chairs were well-worn and comfortable. “They don’t build them like this anymore,” he said.

      “I was raised here, so was Drew, and when our parents died, I moved back in.”

      “Wise move. I only get to New York occasionally when I have business here. I live in Charlotte, North Carolina. You ever been there?” His glance took in both Gabe and Drew, who were sitting on the sofa.

      “Never been south, except once I went to D.C.,” Gabe said. Drew shook his head negatively.

      A little smile touched Moultrie’s mouth as he placed his black briefcase on the floor. He settled himself in his chair and straightened his pant legs. His hands steepled, his eyes smiling, he began his story.

      “If it’s all right with you, Mr. Bell and Drew, I’ll give you some background on this will. Your great-great-grandfather was Ezekiel Bell Sr. His mother and father had been slaves but he was born free in South Carolina in 1870. All his life he heard stories from his father, Elijah, his grandfather Moses, and other elders who talked about a place that was special to the Africans in that part of South Carolina who’d come from the same area in West Africa. They called it ‘De Land.’ It held a treasure that СКАЧАТЬ