Page 43 of Passion’s Song

April returned her attention to Jodi. “How have things been progressing here?”

“Just look around.” Jodi stretched her arms out.

April could hear the pride in the other woman’s voice. She was right to feel proud. What was once a wasteland of overgrown weeds and trash left over by the devastation of Hurricane Katrina was now a beacon of hope for the people of the Ninth Ward. Beanstalks, cabbages, tomatoes, peppers and a colorful array of other summer vegetables thrived in the rich onyx dirt.

This garden represented the neighborhood as a whole. Out of the devastation there stood hope. It just needed more people to help cultivate it.

Even though April had not been around lately, she did play a part in the upkeep of this project. She couldn’t help but feel proud of how it prospered.

Jodi gave them a short tour through the gardens, including the area where they were hoping to install a new hydroponic reservoir. Once they ended their tour and exited the gardens, April turned to Damien.

“Now do you see what I mean? This is the type of meaningful progress happening all over this neighborhood. Doesn’t it make you want to grab a shovel and get to work?”

Damien took her by the hand and entwined his fingers with hers, letting their arms swing lightly between them. April couldn’t fight the excitement that flittered across her skin. Her blood warmed with an intoxicating charge of pleasure, its effect coursing through her. That the touch of his hand could make her so heady with desire was a testament to just how much she still wanted him, even after all these years.

But today wasn’t about her long-held attraction to Damien. Today was about finding a way to make him see that his plans for this building were wrong.

She stopped walking and turned to face him.

“I want to know what you think about what you’ve seen so far,” April said. “I want to know if you now understand why it’s so important to support the efforts of the people in this community.”

He looked down at her, an amused gleam lighting up his eyes.

“You always had so much passion,” Damien said. He lifted his fingers and trailed them along her jaw. “Always wanting to save the world.”

April’s skin tingled where he stroked her. She fought the urge to lean into his touch.

“I can’t save the world,” she said. “But I can save this neighborhood. It deserves to be saved.”

His expression hardened.

April took a couple of steps back. “You don’t agree.” It was a statement, not a question.

He remained quiet, but his body language spoke volumes.

“Tell me what this is really about, Damien. What’s really behind you wanting to build this building?”

“I told you—”

“No.” April shook her head. “I know what you told me, but I want the whole truth.” She paused. Took a breath. “And unless you speak Kurt’s name, then you’re not telling me the whole truth.”

The face that just moments ago held a smile now held an expression devoid of any trace of humor. Once again, a nerve ticked in his jaw.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked. “That I still hold a grudge over my brother getting shot? That I blame these streets? This neighborhood?”

“Yes,” April said. “I want you to admit it.”

“Fine.” He held his arms up. “I admit it. Kurt will never walk again because a person can’t walk down the damn street in this neighborhood without a stray bullet hitting their spine.”

“Kurt could have been hit by a stray bullet in a suburban shopping mall,” she pointed out.

“But he wasn’t. It happened here, in this neighborhood. The same way it happened with my dad. But I guess Kurt was lucky. At least he made it out alive.”

April knew what she was getting into when she’d deliberately opened this can of worms, but knowing didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

“I understand where you’re coming from, Damien—”

He cut her off. “No, you don’t. You may be from the Ninth Ward, but we both know our situations were different.”