Jackson and twenty-five of his students stood in the long line to enter the museum. Twilight was approaching and the spotlights that moved in slow arcs above and around the buildings gave the evening a real Hollywood feel.
The arriving crowd was dressed for a major opening, in business suits and gowns to sparkling jewelry and tuxedos. Jackson was glad he’d decided on the jacket even though he’d decided not to wear a tie.
“This is a pretty big deal, huh, Professor Treme?” one of his students commented while adjusting his tie.
“Looks that way.”
“Will we be able to take pictures?” another young lady asked him.
“I’m not sure. They’ll let us know once we get inside.”
“Why are all these people here, Uncle Jack?”
Jackson looked down at Shay. “They all came to see the special statues.”
She frowned in confusion for a minute. “Why?”
Jackson chuckled. “Because they’re special.”
Shay blinked. “Oh. Like me?”
“Yep. Just like you.” He squeezed her hand. “Now remember what we talked about. No wandering. You hold my hand. Okay?”
“Okay.”
They inched along the line, showing their passes at the entrance and finally they were inside.
The rotunda of the museum was awash in lights and activity. White-jacketed waiters circulated among the throng with platters of tempting hors d’œuvres and canapés. Photographers took pictures of those attending the opening and the statues themselves. There was a low hum of excitement and conversation that buzzed in the air.
“Take good notes,” he told his students before they dispersed into pairs and groups of threes.
“Is that the special statue?” Shay asked, pointing to a terracotta figure of an elegant African figure from the ancient city of Djenne, in Mali.
“No, sweetheart.” He walked her closer to the sculpture and read the description below it.
“Then where are they? I’m hungry.”
Jackson chuckled. “Okay. One thing at a time. Let’s get you some food first and then we’ll go find the special statues.”
Shay enthusiastically bobbed her head and skipped beside her uncle while Jackson led them around the bodies to the long buffet table. As he was selecting what he thought she would like, a warm sensation began to flow through him. His stomach clenched and he had the overwhelming sensation that someone was sneaking up on him. He spun around only to see a room full of well-dressed people. His pulse raced like crazy. A flashbulb went off to his left. He turned and there she was. It was her—the woman from the fire, from his dreams. The paper plate fell from his hand.
“Uncle Jack!” Shay whined, tugging on his jacket. “You dropped all the food.”
“I’ll get that sir.” A young woman dressed in all black, obviously one of the catering staff, began to clean it up.
In the flurry of activity Jackson looked back to where he’d seen her, and she was gone and the room seemed to have exploded with even more people.
Jackson let go of an expletive that was muffled when the five-piece band began to play. He tried to peer over the heads of the guests to see if he could spot her. It was as if he’d only imagined her. But he hadn’t, he was sure of it.
“What’s wrong, Uncle Jack?”
He shook off his frustration and focused on Shay’s upturned face. He smiled. “Uncle Jack is just a little crazy today,” he said, only half joking. “Let me try fixing you another plate and then we’ll go find the statues.”
As he selected the canapés and crudités, adding them to Shay’s plate, he scanned the room as best he could. Where had she gone?
“Let’s go over to that bench so you can sit down and eat.”
“Don’t spill it this time Uncle Jack, ’cause I’m really hungry.”
Jackson hustled Shay into a spot and got her settled. He wanted to tell her to just gobble it down so that he could continue searching for the woman. Every nerve ending in his body was on edge. His foot tapped out a nervous beat. Shay was eating each piece of food with the speed of a snail. He couldn’t sit still and jumped up, pacing the square foot of space in front of them, all the while peering in between bodies and over heads.
“Finished!”
Jackson glanced at Shay who was holding out her half-eaten plate of food. “I thought you were starving,” he teased, and took her plate.
She hopped up from the bench. “I was.”
“Okay. Come on, let’s go find those statues.”
“What an amazing turnout,” Mike said, walking alongside Zoe.
“I can’t believe it. I guess all that PR work we’ve been doing paid off.”
“Yes, in dollars,” he said laughing. “It will definitely help to close the budget gap.” He glanced at her. “You look amazing tonight,” he said in a tone that caused Zoe to shoot him a look. He was staring down at her with a smile that was a hairsbreadth short of inviting.
A nervous flutter jumped in her stomach. “Thank you,” she said over a smile. “You don’t look too bad yourself,” she added, lightly poking him in the arm, hoping to defuse the heat that danced in his eyes.
He placed his hand at the small of her back as they moved through the crowd. Zoe stiffened ever so slightly. “I’m going to see if I can find Sharlene. Keep mingling,” she said and hurried off in the opposite direction. What was that about? she wondered as she smiled and greeted people in the crowd. She’d reached the archway leading into one of the exhibit rooms when she nearly tumbled over a little girl. Righting herself she caught the child’s shoulder to keep her from tumbling backward.
“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t see you. Are you okay?” she asked bending down to eye level. Tears ran down the child’s cheeks. “Did I hurt you? Where’s your mom?” She looked over the child’s head then back at her when she didn’t notice anyone rushing to her aid.
“She’s not here,” she whimpered. “I’m in big trouble.”
“Who did you come with?”
“My uncle.”
“Do you know where your uncle is?”
She shook her head no.
“Okay.” Zoe stood and exhaled a breath. She looked around. How could someone be so irresponsible? The museum was too crowded not to be paying attention to a child.
“What’s your uncle’s name, sweetheart?”
“Uncle Jack.”
Zoe bit back a smile. “We’ll find Uncle Jack in no time. Okay?” She took Shay’s hand. “Let’s go to the security desk.”
Shay dug in her heels and pulled away. “My mommy said not to go with strangers.” She started crying again.
“But I’m not…you’re right. And your mommy is right. Um…” She looked around, raised up on tip-toe to see if she could spot one of the security guards. Now she wished she hadn’t listened to Sharlene when she said that the walkie-talkie clashed with her black-beaded cocktail dress. She looked great, but she couldn’t communicate with the staff and her purse was locked in her desk along with her cell phone. “Frank!” she called out, turning several heads in her direction. “Frank.” She waved her hand above her head. Finally he saw her and wound his way over.
Frank Monroe was her chief of security. “Hey, Ms. Beaumont. What can I do for you?”
“This young lady is lost. Could you get on the intercom and let Uncle Jack know that we found his niece…” She bent down to Shay. “What’s your name, sweetie?”
“My mommy said not to tell strangers my name.” She blinked rapidly.
Zoe and Frank shared a look.
“Do you know your uncle Jack’s last name?”
She slowly shook her head no.
Zoe pushed out a breath. “Okay, Frank. Get on the intercom and ask for ‘Uncle Jack.’ We have his niece in front of the American Arts wing.”
“No problem.”
All Jackson could imagine was the worst. He tore in and out and around the thousands of people who had filled the museum. It was a split second and she was gone. The museum was humongous in size with several floors and adjacent building. Oh, my God. He had to find someone in charge.
“May I have your attention?” A smooth modulated voice came through the intercom system. “Would Uncle Jack please come to the entrance to the American Arts wing on the second floor.”
Jackson stopped in his tracks.
“Uncle Jack,” he repeated, “Please come to the second floor. The American Arts wing.”
“Thank God.” He darted toward the stairs, taking them two at a time, barely avoiding knocking people over. He reached the landing and looked around frantically for the American Arts wing. He saw the signage and jogged down the corridor when suddenly he felt as if someone had slammed him in the chest. The air lodged in his lungs.
It was her.
Zoe felt him before she saw him, like a hand stroking her bare flesh. Her pulse quickened and heat infused her veins. She turned and there he was. Their gazes connected like lightning hitting a tree and the entire room brightened.
The crowd, of its own volition, seemed to part leaving them an open path toward each other.
Jackson moved, dreamlike toward her, as everything around them receded. All he could see was her.
“Hello, again,” he said, a melodiousness lacing his voice. He wanted to touch her to convince himself that she was real.
“Hello.” She looked up into his eyes that were darker than eternity and lost herself there.
“Uncle Jack!” Shay buried her face against his thigh. “Please don’t tell mommy.”
Jackson shook himself out of the trance that he was in and scooped Shay up into his arms, kissing her cheeks in relief. He held her close but couldn’t take his eyes off of Zoe. He wouldn’t dare. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” she said a bit breathless.
“Jackson. Jackson Treme.”
“Zoe Beaumont.”
For a moment all they could do was stare at each other. No words could convey the tumultuous thoughts that swirled through their heads. The stories, the myths, the dreams, the hopes and fears all warred inside their heads for attention.
“I’m here with my class,” Jackson finally said.
“Oh.” Zoe snapped to attention. “Class?”
“Yes, I’m a professor at Clarke-Atlanta.”
“Really? What do you teach?”
“Art history, mainly.”
“I work here. I’m the head curator for the African History Museum.”
He laughed, thinking of all the times he’d walked past the museum and she’d been there all along engrossed in the very thing he loved—history. A part of him seemed to know that it couldn’t have been any other way and couldn’t have happened at any time other than now. Was it possible that she was even more beautiful than he remembered from their brief encounter?
She watched the light dance in his eyes and the way the curves around his luscious lips deepened when he smiled revealing beautiful, even teeth. She wanted to stroke the strong jaw and run her finger along the line of his brow, touch the small scar there and ask him how it happened. But she knew. Somehow she knew that it happened when he was about twelve and he’d been riding his bike down a hill and he hit a rock and went flying. She also knew that one day he would tell her all about it.
“Have you seen the exhibit yet?” she managed to ask.
“No. That’s what we were on our way to do when…we got separated.” He squeezed Shay a bit tighter against him.
“I’d be happy to show you.”
“I’d like that.”
They walked side by side, intermittently stealing glances and sharing smiles of amazement at each other. And it felt perfect, natural, as if walking together was something that they’d always done.
“Zoe…” He loved the way her name rolled off his tongue, and vibrated down to his center.
“Yes?”
“Have you ever met someone for the first time but felt that you’ve known them all your life?”
Zoe stopped walking and gazed up at him. “Yes.” Her eyes moved in increments across his face and her polished lips moved into a smile that expressed more than any words ever could. Coming from anyone else she would have dismissed it as a come on line, but not Jackson Treme. He wasn’t like other men. He was her destiny.
Jackson had the urgent need to touch her to discover if her skin was a silky as it appeared. He wanted to take her in his arms and rest his head against her neck and inhale her scent, mold her against his body. He wanted to let go of the dream and capture reality. He wanted to know everything about her, listen to her tell him about her life, which he had been led to become a part of. All that would come in time. Of that he was certain.
“There you are.” Mike approached, short-circuiting the electricity that popped between them. “I’ve been looking all over. I called you on the two-way.”
“Oh, I left it in the office.”
Mike looked at Jackson and realizing that they were together his expression stiffened.
“Mike, this is Jackson Treme. Mr. Treme, Mike Williams, assistant curator.”
Jackson shifted Shay in his arms and stuck out his hand. “Pleasure.”
“Enjoying the exhibit?”
“We were actually heading into the main attraction.”
Mike peered around Jackson’s shoulder. “Looks like your little girl is out for the count.” He chuckled.
“No wonder she got so heavy.” He stroked her back. “My niece.”
Mike snapped his fingers. “You’re Uncle Jack!”
“Guilty.”
“Yeah, gotta be careful with kids. They can get away from you.” Mike turned his full attention on Zoe. “The chairman is here. He wanted to speak to you.”
Zoe’s eyes widened. “Chairman Lang? Where is he?”
“On the first floor in the lounge.”
She turned to Jackson. “It was really nice to meet you.”
“And you. Thanks. About Shay…”
She waved off his thanks. “Not a problem.”
He wanted to ask when he could see her again, but he could feel the testosterone exuding from Mike in waves and wondered if their relationship went beyond work.
“Professor! Professor, over here,” one of his students called out and waved him over to where the group had assembled.
“Duty calls.”
“Yes, it does. Enjoy your evening,” Zoe said and walked off with Mike.
Jackson watched her until she was hidden by the crowd then he went to join his students. He knew where she was now. That was all that mattered. Zoe Beaumont.