Sacred Ground (Arabesque)

Makima Gray has prayed for guidance in buildingher town's new medical clinic, and she's sure thatGabriel Bell's property is the perfect location. Gabe insistshe's not at liberty to sell, but Makima won't give up…norcan she deny that she's flattered by Gabe's attentions. Butpast hurts and present complications lead to an error injudgment that may drive Gabe away forever.

Gabriel Bell was astonished to inherit his great-grandfather's land, along with clues to a mysterious treasure. But every second he spends with beautiful, determined Makima convinces him that winning hertrust—and her heart—is the most important quest of all.

The rain poured down as it could only in March. Steadily, persistently, undeviatingly, straight down as if it would never cease, taking all of the warmth, liveliness and hope out of the air.

Gabriel Bell sat glumly, his right hand barely touching the steering wheel of his Lexus, wasting the phenomenally over-priced gas with which he'd filled the tank this morning. The car inched forward, one vehicle in the endless line stretching in front of him heading south on the New Jersey Turnpike.

"Some beginning to what's supposed to be our big adventure," his fifteen-year-old brother, Drew, complained, moving restlessly in the passenger seat.

"Yesterday at breakfast we talked about leaving today," Gabe said. "Remember that?, He slid a glance at the man-child next to him.

"Yeah. So?"

"You had nothing to do after school but finish packing your things so we could get an early start this morning. Early. No later than eight, we agreed."

"I couldn't help it if the guys came over to say goodbye, and I did some stuff while they were there." Drew was defensive.

"Right. Then you fell into bed and didn't get up until seven and spent the rest of the morning running around the apartment finding your CDs and video games." Gabe kept his tone mild. No point in getting himself upset over this skirmish. What he intended to do was win the war.

"How'd I know it was gonna take so long to find things?, Drew said indignantly.

"There was no rain this morning when we were supposed to leave. So deal with it, Drew. Complaining won't make the rain stop or the traffic go any faster."

Maybe he should've taken the Garden State Parkway. It was definitely more scenic but I-95 would take them the straightest way from New York City to South Carolina. To a place he'd never seen and, as Drew had said, to their big adventure.

As if the very idea of thinking about it energized the atmosphere, there was a sudden acceleration in the line of cars and they resumed their usual highway speed.

"Yes!" Drew said and sat up straight.

"It's still raining, so there must have been an accident holding everyone up. Watch for it on your side." Anticipating Drew's reaction if he did see signs of an accident, Gabe moved into the far right lane.

A few miles down the road, Drew exclaimed, " Man! Look at that. Someone must have been hurt really bad!"

The whole passenger side of a small blue car was smashed against a guardrail, apparently pushed there by a large SUV that skidded on the wet pavement. The ground was littered with broken glass around which flares were set. A highway patrolman was sitting in his car out of the rain and writing in his notebook. "How'd they get mangled together like that?, Drew asked, turning back to get one more look.

"I'm not sure, but it looks like the SUV was trying to pass but he skidded on the wet road and hydroplaned into the blue car."

"They probably had to get more than one ambulance," Drew said thoughtfully.

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." 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 was linked to where they'd come from."

He paused but there were no questions. Gabe and Drew made an attentive audience.

""De Land," they said, was watched over by "sperrits" and the men in the Bell family beginning with Elijah."

"Did they know exactly where that place was?, Drew asked.

"Yes, but it didn't belong to them. Getting hold of it and then keeping it was the responsibility of Elijah and his descendants."

This sounded too much like a script for a Harrison Ford movie to Gabe for him to take it seriously. At least Drew was entertained.

"The stories caught the imagination of your great-grandfather, Ezekiel Bell Jr., and he asked questions about it. He was a smart boy and in his belief, he made "De Land" his life work. He learned to read and write, earned money any way he could and saved every cent. His intuition had led him to "De Land." he'd dreamed about it and recognized it when he saw the remnants of this old plantation in Orangeburg County. He married Sarah who was a hard worker like him and understood his dream.

"Every few years they'd purchase more of the land. As the years went by he found several ways to increase his income. He bought a few acres to raise cows, hogs and even chickens for the market. He learned all about building houses when he built his own, and hired himself out to build for others.

"Meanwhile he and Sarah had a family—Elizabeth, Robert and Edward. Finally he'd purchased fifteen acres, and the special woodland the Africans had spoken about belonged to him."

"I don't get it," Drew said. "What made it special? Did it have oil or something?, He sat forward, his hands on his knees. "What made it special for him," Mr. Moultrie explained, " was how the older Africans had felt something mystical about it. They used words he didn't understand. His father said they meant sacred ground and they said it with reverence."

Sacred ground? Superstition or a legendary folktale, Gabe had to admit the attorney was spinning an interesting story at this point.

Mr. Moultrie continued. "There was another fact about this sacred ground that was unique. Ezekiel had felt a calling to purchase the property. He knew he couldn't sell it but had to hold it in trust for a particular person." He paused.

Gabe felt the hair rise on his arms as Moultrie's calm gaze rested on him.

"You, Mr. Bell."

Gabe tried to speak but his mouth was dry. "Me?, he croaked. Drew was looking at him with the same astonishment he was feeling. "How could it be me?"

"Because it had to be passed to the eldest grandson in the sixth generation who carried the Bell name."

"How am I the sixth?, Gabe was trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

"Elijah Bell began the saga. His son, Ezekiel Sr., was the second generation and Ezekiel Jr. was third. Edward was fourth. Booker, your father, was fifth, and that makes you the sixth."

"What happened to all the other children who must have been born in six generations?"

"Some died single, some had only daughters, not sons. Do you know of any relatives you have on your father's side?, Moultrie asked.

Gabe shook his head. "Ma had four sisters and five brothers and most of them had children. Pop always said that was enough family for anyone. When I asked Pop about his family he said there was only his brother, Jacob, but I didn't even meet him until after Drew was born. He was single and teased Pop about having two sons, one for Pop and one for him," Gabe reminisced affectionately. Uncle Jake had been a favorite in the family.

He couldn't sit still any longer. "Excuse me, Mr. Moultrie. Would you care for something to drink? Coffee, tea, juice, water?"

"Water's fine."

Gabe took bottled water from the refrigerator, poured some over a glass of ice for Moultrie and grabbed two bottles for him and Drew. He felt like he was in Oz and had to anchor himself with something familiar before he heard the rest of this bizarre story.