Idlewild

  Idlewild:

  Carl Weber Presents

  Treasure Hernandez

  www.urbanbooks.net

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1 - Summer Home

  Chapter 2 - Nothing Gained

  Chapter 3 - Prodigal Children

  Chapter 4 - Memories

  Chapter 5 - Is This Love?

  Chapter 6 - Haunting Grounds

  Chapter 7 - Unhappily Good Times

  Chapter 8 - Nothing Is What It Seems

  Chapter 9 - Love Loss

  Chapter 10 - Framed

  Chapter 11 - Crisis Mode

  Chapter 12 - Guilty Until Proven Innocent

  Chapter 13 - Sins of the Father

  Chapter 14 - Powerful or Powerless?

  Chapter 15 - All Falls Down

  Chapter 16 - Revelations

  Chapter 17 - Consequences

  Chapter 18 - Favors

  Chapter 19 - Loose Ends

  Chapter 20 - What Goes Around

  Urban Books, LLC

  300 Farmingdale Road, NY-Route 109

  Farmingdale, NY 11735

  Idlewild: Carl Weber Presents

  Copyright © 2020 Treasure Hernandez

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.

  ISBN: 978-1-6455-6094-4

  eISBN 13: 978-1-64556-095-1

  eISBN 10: 1-64556-095-3

  This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.

  Distributed by Kensington Publishing Corp.

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  Chapter 1

  Summer Home

  Desiree looked over at her snoring teenage son, Tyree, and wondered if she was doing the right thing. For sixteen years, her life had consisted of protecting him from the evils of the world, even from her own family. On the night he was born, she’d whispered in his ear, “I will never let anyone hurt you. You are my soul.”

  Thinking about it now made small bumps crop up on her arms. She swallowed hard. She’d worked so hard to protect him. She’d been a fierce force in his life, like a superhero swatting away all obstacles every time things got rough for him. She hadn’t let kids in school bully him with their insensitive comments about never seeing his daddy. She hadn’t backed down when the mothers of his little friends asked too many questions about their situation.

  Desiree had never let her son go places without her unless she trusted that the other parents or chaperones were either in her same boat or understood not to pry. Desiree’s entire life had changed the day she chose her son over everything else, including her once close-knit family. When everyone had told her having a baby would ruin her life and her family’s good name, Desiree hadn’t cared. She’d given up an easy life for a hard one, but Tyree was worth it. So worth it. He was all she had. Desiree sighed and battled the tears welling up in her eyes as she thought about the amount of love she had inside her for her only child—from the tight dark curls on his head to the tiny cleft in his chin.

  Sometimes she couldn’t believe that he was actually hers. She’d actually have to stop and chant, “He is my son and my son alone,” a few times to get her mind back on track. The fact that the older Tyree got, the more obvious his looks got hadn’t helped either. He was one of those babies that made old women say to her, “Girl, you ain’t have nothing to do with that baby, huh? He must look just like his daddy.” Yes, that was the problem. Tyree looked like a complete replica of his father . . . well, her sperm donor. Desiree often wondered if the donor thought about her at all, if he cared about what had happened to her, and if his mind ever wandered to their summers in Idlewild and their sneaky trysts in Chicago during the school year. She wondered. But every time she wondered about him, she made herself sick.

  Desiree shook her head now and cleared those thoughts right out. She didn’t have time to wonder. She’d told herself years ago—sixteen years ago, to be exact—that wondering about him was detrimental to her mental stability. She and Tyree were just fine and were content to live a modest life in a small, tight-knit suburb in southern Indiana, many miles from where Desiree had grown up. She didn’t need the donor, his family, or her own family. She’d carved out a nice life for herself and her son. It was something her family had thought she could never do, since she’d been so pampered and sheltered from the real world while she was growing up. Desiree worked, had what her family would consider a regular job, and made an honest living.

  She hadn’t asked her family for anything since Tyree was born. There had been many days when she’d gone without dinner just so her son could eat and have things that other kids in their community had. It was a far cry from the lavish way she’d grown up, but that was fine with her. Anything to protect the love of her life. Desiree didn’t consider herself isolated or estranged, as some of her relatives had referred to her situation. She’d become used to the fact that Tyree was her only family now. He was all the family she needed.

  As Tyree continued to snore in the passenger seat, Desiree stared out the car’s windshield, and her mind began racing in a million directions.

  “Damn you, Junior,” she mumbled, thinking about the call she’d received a few days ago, the call that had prompted this long drive.

  Desiree had been standing at her kitchen sink, preparing Tyree’s dinner before heading to work, when her cell phone rang. She’d dusted her hands on her apron and rushed over to the phone. It was a number she hadn’t recognized.

  “Hello,” she’d huffed after struggling to get the phone to her ear without getting any of the remaining flour on her hands on it.

  Silence.

  “Hello?” she said a second time, her face falling into a confused frown.

  “Um . . . yeah . . . Desi?” her brother Junior replied awkwardly.

  “Junior?” she asked, not sure she had heard right.

  For many years she hadn’t heard from her family all that regularly, and Junior hadn’t called her directly in all that time.They had been close growing up, but they had grown far apart when she announced she was pregnant. Junior had probably been more disappointed in her pregnancy than her parents had at the time.

  Desiree closed her eyes and remembered the sting of his desertion. She shivered and bit her bottom lip as she awaited his response.

  “Yeah, it’s me. Um, look, I . . . I . . . just called to tell you . . . ,” Junior said, stumbling over his words.

  Desiree sucked in her breath, not realizing that she was squeezing her phone so tight, her knuckles had turned white. “What?” she said almost breathlessly.

  “Nobody is dead,” Junior said, picking up on her fear. He knew her so well. They knew each other so well.

  Desiree’s shoulders relaxed. “Okay, then . . . ,” she said, almost tapping her foot in anticipation. She was really confused by his call now.

  “Pop is sick. Real sick. This summer might be—” Junior said, but Desiree spoke up before her brother could finish.

  “I’ll be there,” she said.

  “But there’s one more thing,” Junior continued. “He wants to be in Idlewild, at the summer home. I know that might be . . . you know . . . for you, it might be . . .”

  Desiree was fine until she hea
rd her brother say she had to meet them at their Idlewild summer home. The section of the Michigan lake country known as Idlewild was a historic resort community that got its start as a refuge for Black vacationers before the Jim Crow era. It held a lot of beautiful memories for a lot of people, but for Desiree, it held memories that were both beautiful and ugly.

  “Why?” she rasped, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Her brother sucked his teeth, and Desiree knew he was probably judging her already. “Because, Desi, that’s what Pop wants,” Junior replied flatly.

  Desiree snapped her lips shut, closed her eyes, squeezed her cell phone until her fingers ached, and mumbled her weak response. “Okay, Junior. I’ll be there.” Her entire body began to tingle the minute the words left her mouth. She hated herself right after that. She wanted to scream, “Daddy knows I don’t want to go there! Especially at this time of year, when everyone is there!” But she bit her tongue and held in her feelings . . . all over again.

  Now, as Desiree drove toward familiar yet foreign territory, her head swam with thoughts. What if someone brought up the subject? What if she couldn’t explain her son’s familiar face? What if her father forced her to announce, once and for all, that she had a child?

  Desiree let out a long sigh. More like a cleansing breath. She’d need to employ all her meditation practices over these next two weeks. Being around her family and being in Idlewild this time of year could potentially throw her back into a deep depression and an anxiety state. Desiree swallowed hard, just thinking about the days she’d spent crying in her closet and how she’d sent her son on playdates so she could lie in total darkness and embrace the dark places to which her mind would take her. Tyree was the only thing that had saved her back then.

  Tyree stirred next to her and interrupted the negative thoughts that had crept into Desiree’s head. He lifted his head and stretched out his long arms.

  “Dang, Ma. We ain’t there yet?” he said as he peered out the window.

  “Ain’t? What have I told you about that word?” Desiree said, side-eyeing the love of her life.

  “We are not in front of anyone right now! You said not to use Ebonics in front of people,” Tyree responded.

  “Boy, you know what . . . ?” Desiree replied, reaching over and playfully swatting his arm. They both started laughing.

  “I mean, ain’t that what you said?” Tyree said, needling his mother some more.

  “Ew! Only you can get to me like this,” Desiree said lightheartedly, unable to remain annoyed with her son for long. “Only you . . . the person I love the most.”

  “You know I’m just joking, Ma. I know how to conduct myself. I code switch with the best of them. I’m the Jay-Z of code switching,” Tyree told her.

  “Code switch? What the heck is that? Now I have to learn a new term?”

  “Yeah, code switch. It’s, like, you can be all down and speaking Ebonics one minute, and then somebody white and uptight comes by, and you code switch it to perfect and proper English. Switching the code, faking it till you make it. I’m the best at it. I mean, I only been watching you do it all my life,” Tyree explained, with a shoulder shrug.

  “Me?” Desiree asked. “What do you mean?”

  “Ma, c’mon. We live in a mixed neighborhood, but clearly, you’re more comfortable with the people there who obviously have more. It’s like you code switch in reverse,” Tyree answered quickly, as if what he was explaining to her was obvious.

  “Boy, what?” Desiree’s voice went high, and her eyebrows folded into the center of her face. She was really confused now.

  “You are bougie. There, I said it. Okay. You are a code-switching bougie person, and you can turn it on and off like a pro.”

  “What? Okay, now you’re going too far,” Desiree said, dropping her voice an octave. “Bougie? Me? What does that even mean?”

  “Ma, it is clear to me and everyone else that you grew up privileged but ended up in our neighborhood, for some reason. You don’t speak a certain way unless you’re around certain people. You have a certain way you do things—even the way you cook! All proper, with an apron on and stuff. And I have seen that you kind of dumb yourself down when you speak to Kyle’s mom, since she’s clearly not as, you know, smart or polished. But when you speak to Jawan’s mother, who is an attorney and grew up probably like you did, you’re all smart and, you know, proper and prim, which, I would say, is more like you,” Tyree said, his tone getting a bit more serious.

  Desiree’s eyes grew round, and her eyebrows went up to her hairline. She was struck silent for a few minutes, and that wasn’t an easy task. She had never thought of it the way her son had just explained it. She also had never thought he would be as sharp as he was at his age. He was sharp enough to figure her out, despite the fact that he’d seen her steeped in only one social class all his life. She actually had to admit silently to herself that she code switched, and that she was aware of doing it. She just hadn’t known it was called code switching.

  “I don’t know. I think I’m always the same,” she replied, slightly defensive.

  “I think not,” Tyree replied, laughing. “I guess I’m about to step right into your bougie childhood in a minute. Let’s see how it goes,” he said, rubbing his hands together like a mad scientist.

  “Yes, let’s see how it goes,” Desiree mumbled under her breath.

  Chapter 2

  Nothing Gained

  The sand sparkled brilliantly in the afternoon sunlight at the Johnson family’s summer home in Idlewild. The house—a sprawling mansion on the water—sat along the most exclusive stretch of the beach, and so every room had a magnificent view. The property also boasted a private dock. There Carolyn Johnson, the family’s matriarch, stood with her arms folded across her chest, staring out at the beautiful landscape. She inhaled the fresh scent of the wind off the lake and let out a long, exasperated sigh.

  Each summer for forty-one years, Carolyn and her husband, Ernest, had been coming to Idlewild—a place built specifically for elite African Americans, who had vacationed there since the turn of the twentieth century. With every passing year, the façade they had erected of what they thought was the perfect couple and the perfect family seemed to crack a little more. Carolyn knew that nowadays her children came to the summer home out of a sense of obligation, but no one on the outside looking in knew much about the inner conflicts plaguing the Johnsons.

  This summer was already shaping up to be drama filled, and they were barely a month into it. For years, Carolyn had walked hand in hand with Ernest into the high-class house parties of the Idlewild elite, although her family life had been shattered to pieces a long time ago. Years ago she’d smiled and told several people that her daughter, Desiree, was away in Europe, studying history, although she and her husband had all but banished their middle child for becoming pregnant at sixteen. Carolyn had felt the guilt of that deep in her soul every single day, and no number of happy moments after that had washed away the pain of what they’d done to Desiree back then. Carolyn had cried many nights from just thinking about it, but she’d made the choice back then to stand by her husband, and that was that.

  Ernest had fallen ill not so long ago, and Carolyn had dedicated herself even more to the role of doting and caring wife, although for months she had been contemplating how to get even with her husband for all his years of philandering, which had forced her to kill herself inside to hide her pain from her children. Carolyn had put on a brave face for years, but she was tired now. She didn’t know how much more of a show she could put on. The fake smiles and all the lies were wearing on her.

  She had literally watched her perfect life fade over the course of many years. And now she was in a loveless marriage, one of her children was estranged, one was growing into a version of her husband, and the other was a total disgrace, if Carolyn did say so herself. While he had vengeance on her mind, the fact that her husband was terminally ill also scared her half to death. She’d become so dependent o
n Ernest that the thought of him leaving her behind terrified her to the point of nausea.

  Carolyn closed her eyes when she heard footsteps approach from behind. She flinched as her son, Ernest Junior, placed one hand on her shoulder and pecked her on her cheek.

  “Hello, Mother,” Junior said, taking a spot right next to her. “Nice weather these days.”

  The small talk before the bullshit, she thought.

  Carolyn cracked a half-hearted smile, her back going rigid and her shoulders stiffening. She knew what was coming next. She’d heard her son stirring around the house earlier, and he never got up early during the summer months unless he was up to something.

  “I’m going to get out of here. I have some important business to take care of back in Chicago,” Junior announced. He set something down next to him. She looked down and saw his suitcase. She rolled her eyes and bit her bottom lip. She could feel heat rising in her chest, and her hands involuntarily curled into fists. Junior noticed too.

  “I won’t be gone long. I promise. I’ll be back in time for the annual all-white affair. I know how much that means to you,” Junior added quickly in response to his mother’s body language. He knew that keeping up appearances for his parents’ friends was more important to his mother and father than anything.

  Carolyn turned toward Junior, abruptly causing him to take a step back. She moved in like a lion toward its prey. “Did you forget that your father is dying and your sister is coming into town today, after years?” she asked, her voice low, almost a growl. She eyed her son evilly, her nostrils moving in and out. She had one shaky finger jutted accusingly toward Junior, and her other hand was balled up so tightly that her nails were digging moon-shaped creases into her palm. She was tired of playing the role of the quiet, sweet wife and mother. The stress was mounting from all sides, and she wasn’t about to let her children get away with their shenanigans any longer.