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Sacred Ground
Adrienne Ellis Reeves
Makima Gray has prayed for guidance in building her town's new medical clinic, and she's sure that Gabriel Bell's property is the perfect location. Gabe insists he's not at liberty to sell, but Makima won't give up…nor can she deny that she's flattered by Gabe's attentions. But past hurts and present complications lead to an error in judgment 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 her trust–and her heart–is the most important quest of all.
Sacred Ground
Adrienne Ellis Reeves
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is lovingly dedicated to
Lee Caswell Ellis
4/6/27–12/21/05
My thanks to Edward Darby, Sr., for his intimate knowledge of rural South Carolina and sharing it with me. My appreciation also to Alice Stamps who provided me with essential information about South Carolina woodlands and forests.
In the middle of this work, my brother became ill and later died. The fact that the book eventually reached the publisher is due in no small part to the patience and efficiency of my daughter, Debbie Reeves, to whom I give my heartfelt gratitude.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
Chapter 1
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 prob’ly 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.”
