Calling All Blessings (Blessings #12)

Prologue

Henry Adams Heaven

Daisy and Lucretia nodded eagerly.

“Who shall we check on first?”

“When is our restaurant going to be finished?” Lucretia questioned, instead.

“Will you stop worrying about the restaurant,” Daisy scolded. She’d been the secretary for Henry Adams’s first AME church. “It’s opening soon.”

Lucretia, a milliner by trade and owner of the town’s first seamstress shop, never liked being reprimanded. “As one of the Three Spinsters, I believe it’s about time we were shown some appreciation. We helped build this town.”

“I agree. A restaurant is a fine tribute,” Daisy replied. “And Henry Adams hasn’t had a fancy sit-down place for a long time. Remember when—”

Rachel cut her off. “Stop. The last time you took us down memory lane we almost missed Bernadine and Mal’s wedding. Focus, ladies. Now, who’s first?”

“Riley and Cletus,” Lucretia offered, looking pleased.

“No!” Rachel and Daisy shouted back.

Rachel added, “To quote Riley’s ex-wife Genevieve, I don’t want to see that hog again until he’s turned into an Easter ham.”

“That’s mean.”

“But true,” Daisy pointed out. “Either a ham or the pokey. Take your pick.”

Lucretia’s lips thinned. “Well, who do you suggest? And don’t say Devon, because I’m tired of his antics.”

“Devon just needs understanding,” Daisy explained.

“And Riley doesn’t?” Lucretia countered testily. “He had a terrible childhood.”

“And a hog that killed someone,” Daisy shot back. “Besides, Riley’s a full-grown man. Devon’s a child.”

Rachel eyed them both. “Are you two done?”

Lucretia and Daisy folded their arms and sat back in a huff.

“Since you can’t agree, I’m picking Tamar. Any objections?”

In the century they’d been friends on earth and in Heaven, neither Lucretia nor Daisy had ever won an argument with Rachel, so they chose silence.

“Good. We’ll begin with Tamar. I think she may need to call on a lot of blessings before this is over.”

“Just so she doesn’t wreck Olivia while driving like someone in the Indy 500.”

“Or wield that shotgun like she’s starring on Gunsmoke.”

Rachel shook her head. “Okay, settle down. It’s starting.”

Henry Adams, KS

The Past

Tamar July’s wedding day had finally arrived.

Three months had passed since Joel Newton’s proposal, and for a woman in her thirties who never thought she’d find love, she was over her heels happy.

Her parents were as well. They’d even bought her a new dress for the occasion.

She viewed herself in the old stand-up mirror.

Not even its cloudy surface marred how fine she looked in the blue dress, with her long black hair pulled back and knotted on her neck and a small amount of makeup on her ebony skin.

Tamar lived with her parents, and to help make ends meet, she drove the school bus for the neighboring town of Franklin and hadn’t had new clothes or shoes in a dog’s age.

Her father worked for the railroad, and her mother cleaned homes.

Neither were paid much, and for them to spend their hard-earned pennies on the dress as their wedding gift spoke to their love.

“You look beautiful, Tammy. Joel’s going to want to eat you up with a spoon.”

Tamar turned to see her best friend Agnes Jefferson standing in the bedroom doorway. Agnes had taken the weekend away from her studies at Oberlin to return to Henry Adams to be Tamar’s maid of honor.

“I can’t believe I’m getting married.”

“Me either. Especially at your age,” Agnes joked before asking in a more serious tone, “Are you happy?”

“I am.”

“Good. Hopefully, I’ll be next.”

They’d shared secrets their entire lives, but this was Tamar’s first hearing about her having a new beau. “Have you met someone?”

“I have, but we can talk about it later. Today is your day. Everyone’s here and waiting. Are you ready to become Mrs. Joel Newton?”

Tamar took a final look at herself in the old mirror and nodded approvingly. “Yes ma’am.”

“Then follow me.”

The service would take place in the cleared field behind the July house, a homestead that had been in the family for nearly a century.

The yard was filled with neighbors and a good-size contingent of Julys from the Oklahoma clan.

Tamar smiled seeing her other best friend Mabel Franklin, granddaughter of the founder of the town of Franklin, standing with another good friend, local farmer James Redding.

Tamar knew their Klan-supporting families were undoubtedly displeased by their attendance, but she was glad to have them with her on her wedding day.

Holding a bouquet of spring flowers, she felt both shy and proud as applause broke out when she took her father Trent’s offered arm for the solemn walk to the flower-laden wooden bower where Joel stood looking so handsome in his dark-blue suit.

Her older brother Thadeus, Joel’s longtime friend, stood with him, as did Agnes and the Reverend Andrew Mosley, pastor of the local AME church.

Upon reaching them, her father placed a kiss on her cheek and told Joel, “Treat my baby girl good, you hear?”

The crowd tittered. They hoped Joel listened, because they all knew Trent July wouldn’t stand for any shenanigans from his new son-in-law.

Her father stepped back, and Tamar and Joel faced the reverend.

The Julys were tall. Tamar herself stood just over six feet.

Joel was shorter by four or five inches, but he didn’t seem to mind the difference in their height—much to her delight, because some of the few beaus in her past had.

The reverend began speaking the words. Tamar was focused on how wonderful she felt standing beside the man who’d soon be her husband, when a woman’s voice rang out.

“Joel Newton! What the hell are you doing?”

Tamar turned. There stood an angry-looking, brown-skinned lady with a little boy on her hip and holding the hand of a girl not much older. Flanking the woman were two scowling, burly men wearing plain workmen clothes.

“Lisa?” Joel croaked, his eyes wide as saucers.

Murmurs spread through the crowd.

Confused, Tamar asked, “Who is she, Joel?”

Before he could respond, the woman stormed forward. “He can’t marry you, ma’am. He already has a wife and two children!”

Tamar’s jaw dropped, and she spun back Joel’s way. He refused to meet her eyes. Thadeus wouldn’t either. She grabbed Joel’s arm. “Is this your wife?”

“Look, let me explain.”

She raised her voice. “Is this your wife?”

Lisa replied instead, “Yes, I am. So, you might as well send these folks home. There’ll be no wedding today. Joel, my brothers are here, and Daddy’s in the car. Come on! You’re going home. Don’t make them drag you.”

Humiliated, furious, and about to lose her mind, Tamar yelled at her brother, “Did you know he was married?”

“Tammy. I—” Whatever else he had to say was cut short by the right cross she hit him with that knocked him out cold.

The brothers charged forward. Lisa shouted at Joel.

Tamar’s father roared and had to be restrained.

Lisa’s father came running up, pushing people aside, and the Oklahoma Julys met his bad manners with their fists.

Chaos erupted. Tamar was sure she’d broken her hand, but the pain in her heart ached more.

Hoping her father filled Joel’s backside with birdshot and vowing to never be foolish enough to fall in love ever again, she struck out across the field.

She heard her mother and Agnes calling her name, but she kept walking and didn’t stop until she reached the banks of the creek at the foot of the July land.

There in the quiet silence, she made another vow, to never speak to Thad again.

Determined not to cry, she furiously dashed away the tears filling her eyes.

Joel Newton could go straight to hell. He’d play no role in her future, or the future of his child growing inside.