A Forever Kind of Love (Kimani Romance) by Farrah Rochon

their home during the time of the Underground Railroad, and they were known to sympathize with the abolitionist movement.” He looked up at her. “Their home was in the building that now houses Matthew Gauthier’s law practice.”
    It took Mya a moment to comprehend the enormity of his words.
    “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “Are you telling me that Gauthier was a stop on the Underground Railroad? Corey, this is huge. I mean this is really, really huge.”
    “I’m a history teacher, remember? I know how huge this is. It’s more than just huge, Mya. It’s historic. This changes everything.”
    Mya pushed back from behind the microfiche station and started pacing, trying to piece together the thoughts that crowded her brain. “Okay, okay. Let’s calm down,” she said. “First things first. We need to contact the state’s historical society.”
    “No, the first thing we need to do is get back to those books and find out more about what went down back then. We’re going to need documented evidence before we go to the historical society.”
    “You’re right,” she said. He just looked at her with a look that said, well, duh! History teacher here .
    “We also need to find out what other historical sites there are in Gauthier,” Corey continued. “I’ll bet Matthew Gauthier’s law practice isn’t the only place with some historical significance.”
    Mya pointed to the archives room. “You get back to the books. I’ll use one of the computers on the main floor to see if I can find what kind of documentation is needed for the historical society and the state’s tourism board. There should be something on their websites.”
    “The tourism board?”
    “Of course,” Mya said. She realized she hadn’t taken the time to share the ideas that had bombarded her brain. “Corey, don’t you see what this means for Gauthier? People travel to New Orleans for three things: food, music and the history. Gauthier is less than an hour’s drive away.” She paused for a moment, remembering. “Do those tour buses still go out to that plantation home in Maplesville?”
    “Every Tuesday,” Corey said, understanding flourishing in his gray-brown eyes.
    Mya’s mouth curved in a conspiratorial grin. “They’re about to add an extra stop to their tour.” She leaned over to peer at the pages of the book, but could make nothing out under the dimmed lights of the microfiche room. “Does it say anything else that the people back home should know?”
    When Corey didn’t continue, Mya looked up to find him staring at her. “What?” she asked at his curious expression.
    “You just called it ‘home.’ I like that you still think of it that way,” Corey said. “There’s a lot to love about Gauthier.”
    Like the fact that he was there, Mya thought. His presence was like a beacon, drawing her into the clutches of a life she’d abdicated so long ago.
    It was also what made her want to get out of Dodge as soon as possible.
    Just as he’d been all those years ago, Corey was a threat to the freedom and independence she’d claimed for herself. He induced dangerous thoughts, elicited images of an era when she would have contemplated remaining in Gauthier just to be with him. She’d left that girl—that space in time—behind.
    She would not give up the life she’d built for herself for anyone, not even Corey Anderson.
    * * *
    Corey stood in the middle of the dark microfiche room watching Mya as she trekked a five-foot trough into the carpet. She continued to rattle off ideas about how to incorporate their discovery into the town’s anniversary celebration. The more excited she became, the faster she talked. She used to do the same thing back when they were in school together.
    “You know, there are companies that specialize in tours specific to African-American history in the South. They would jump on this. We can put together a walking tour of the town. Take them along Main Street, through Heritage Park, and then