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She traced her finger along a blanched root, then turned to face the sea.
“Thank you for this,” she said, without ever taking her eyes from the whitecaps breaking on the surf. Her words were nearly lost in the roar of the wind.
He drew nearer to her. “For what, my love?” He wanted to know the specifics of what pleased her, ’cause he wanted to make sure he kept on giving it to her.
“This place. Our time here.” He began that instant to calculate what it would take for him to move here and make this place that pleased Jilo her permanent home, when she spoke again. “I’ve been thinking about the students they arrested in Savannah.”
Tinker was taken aback. “I didn’t realize you were paying attention to the goings-on there.” A couple of days earlier black students had been arrested for demanding service at downtown Savannah lunch counters, but he hadn’t realized his wife knew. He hadn’t said anything, not wanting to upset her this close to Rosalee’s delivery.
Jilo glanced over her shoulder at him, a smile on her lips. “I’m always paying attention.” She turned back to the sight of seagulls soaring above and swooping down into the sea. She stretched out her hands, like she was trying to catch the rising sun, then wrapped her arms around herself. “The baby’s not coming yet. Rosalee says she won’t be ready for a week or two.” She paused and looked back at him. “It’s time we got back, Tinker. It’s taken its own sweet time, but the world’s getting ready to change. I can feel it, as sure as I feel that sun on my skin and the wind on my face.”
Tinker could resist no longer. He reached out and pulled her into a tight embrace, her back pressing up against him. “It isn’t gonna happen overnight,” he said, “and it isn’t going to happen easy. There are too many people out there who like things just fine as they have been.” He let his voice drop. “Too many people out there who’d even like to turn back to the way it was before.”
She pulled free of his grasp and turned to face him. “And that’s why we have to go back.” He could see the fire building in her eyes. “I’m no fool. I know the kind of evil we’re facing won’t disappear overnight. Hell, it may never die away at all. At least not completely.” Her sweet face hardened, a tiny line forming between her brows, and her eyes narrowed. “I’m not saying we’re going back so we can deliver the children into a land of milk and honey. I’m saying it’s time we take them back to the real world, so they can learn how to fight.”
Damn, how he loved this woman. He pulled her close and nuzzled his wind-chilled nose against her ear. “Are you ready, then? Ready to go back to Savannah?” He leaned back and craned his neck, so that he could better see her face.
Jilo glanced up at him, he
r eyes warm, full of confidence, full of love. She nodded. “Yes,” she said, her voice soft in the rasping wind, “I believe I am.”
A seagull screeched and barreled down to touch the sea, pulling up as it brushed the crest of a wave. Jilo patted his forearms, signaling him to release her. He did so, even though he sure hated letting go. She stepped out of his embrace and walked a few paces away before turning back and extending her hand to him. He trotted to her side and took her hand in his.
“Hell,” she said as she turned inland, leading him home, “I know I am.”
AFTERWORD
Even though some portions of this book were inspired by the customs and history of the Gullah/Geechee people, this book remains a work of fiction. The Gullah/Geechee Sea Island Coalition is an organization that not only serves as a reference for an accurate history of the Gullah/Geechee people, but also fights to keep Gullah/Geechee historic traditions alive. To learn more about the Gullah/Geechee culture—and what you can do to help preserve it—please contact the Gullah/Geechee Sea Island Coalition.
