“Mr. Moore. Remember the cook, the one who was here when we first started working here?…”
“Ms. Wills.”
“Yes, but she had a little daughter. Would come by and help out. Peel potatoes, juice oranges, that sort of thing. Twelve, thirteen when we first got here. Maybe twenty by the time she left.”
“Likkle dawtah? Hmm. Yes, I remembah. Dem call her Blossom.”
“Blossom. That’s it.” Mrs. Moore said.
“An’ I believe her actual given name was Lisa, or Lisette.”
“Maybe it was Elsie?” I volunteered.
“Elsie. So it is. Elsie.” Mr. Moore shook his head with satisfaction and disappeared from the kitchen. Could Elsie Smalls and Elsie Wills be the same person, I wondered. Unfortunately, Elsie was not an uncommon name in Jamaica.
“You two weren’t friends?” I asked Mrs. Moore.
She finished slicing up the tomato and scraped that into another bowl using the cleaver. “Elsie was maybe ten or more years younger than me.”
“Was she friends with Lewis’ sister?”
“I don’t believe so. I think Elsie was a little sweet on Mr. Lewis, though. They were both young.”
“So, what happened to her?”
“I’m not sure. I remember the mother taking sick. Elsie went off to nurse her. I heard some time later from my friend, the other girl who was maid here, that the mother ended up passing on.”
“What about Elsie?”
“I don’t know whatever became of her. Probably a cook somewhere now.” She added salt and pepper to the flour. “Maybe she’s not even in Jamaica anymore.”
“And do you remember a Bumper Smalls?”
Mrs. Moore shook her head slowly for a while. “Can’t say I do, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Moore.”
“Is everything all right, ma’am?” she asked.
“Oh, just fine.” I thanked her again and walked off.
-22-
Lewis broke the news of accepting Cuba’s gift at the site where the hospital was to be built. It was just outside downtown Kingston, near where Windward Road led out toward Harbor View. It was a beautiful morning with clear, blue skies, a light breeze and the gleaming sea in the distance. The setting would have been perfect, had there not been as many protesters there as I had ever seen before. They kept chanting, “Any friend of Cuba’s is no friend of mine,” throughout Lewis’ speech. They made it so that I could hardly hear Lewis, and I was standing right next to him. As Lewis finished speaking, one of the protesters rushed toward him, yelling.
“First Samuel Bennett resigns as Editor-in-Chief of The Gleaner, a post he has held for over twenty years. Then Bob Lindsey, a close personal friend of yours, Mr. Montrose, takes over. And now you have accepted a gift from your good friends in communist Cuba. Do you think we’re not able to see what’s going on here?”
James Alvarez waved his right hand above his head, and before any of the police officers manning the area could get to the protester, Mr. Samms had the poor man in something between a headlock and a half-nelson hold. I had never seen someone get so manhandled and still manage to breathe, much less get his words out.
“Mr. Montrose has money and will do as he pleases. He doesn’t care about us. He doesn’t care about free press. He got rid of Sam Bennett so he could manipulate the people. He thinks he can manipulate our minds, but he’s wrong.”
Lewis fixed the man with a cold, dead stare.
“He doesn’t care about anything but getting his own way. He’s a politician and an abomination. But you better watch out, Mr. Montrose, because evil begets evil. You are in league with the devil and deserve toooo …”
His last words were muffled when the policemen rushed in to take him away, but not before he could launch something in my direction. With all the commotion, I didn’t even realize I had been hit until I saw people running toward me with concern on their faces. That’s when I felt something warm trickling along my forehead. I brought my hand up to my face and pulled back bloody fingers. The only thing I remembered thinking was, did I just get shot?
I was happy to learn it wasn’t anything as dramatic as that. The man had thrown a stone, not fired a gun. An hour after getting to the University Hospital in Mona, I was back at Reach. A small bandage was all I had to show for my “gunshot.”
“Do you want to get some sleep?” Lewis asked once we got back to the house. I shook my head.
“I had bigger injuries in Stepney,” I said. “Once I fell out of a mango tree head first. A small rock stone is nothing.”
He had me sit in the living room with him. At first he was very quiet. He sat with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him, and his head bent.
“That man practically called you a communist,” I said.
“I’ve been called worse,” Lewis said. “Look, people will say things. It’s their right. But he had no right to attack you. But you don’t have to worry. He will be dealt with appropriately.” There was such darkness behind his words, I was actually afraid for that poor protester.
“Well, he hasn’t been the only one talking about Cuba. The last garden party I went to, well, people just don’t think it’s such a good idea … the hospital.”
“What people? People with a lot of money who don’t have to worry about health care. Souci, you worked in a clinic, and you were lucky to have Band-Aids. What’s wrong with getting a state-of-the-art hospital in an area where it’s needed? Personally, I don’t care if it had come from the devil himself.”
“Some people will probably say maybe it did,” I said. Lewis looked away.
“What else did you all discuss?” he asked.
“The usual, I guess. The big conversation this time was Jennifer Glenn. I guess she’s marrying somebody named something or the other Wilton.”
“Oh, Devin Wilton. His father is friends with my father. We used to see each other quite a bit when we were younger, but that was a long time ago. The Wiltons own bananas in Bluefields. I’ll have to send a telegram congratulating them.”
“I don’t know. The women at the party didn’t seem too happy. They said they didn’t think he was of the right sort.”
“Of course not. They’re thinking that Jennifer, who has a fair complexion and straight hair, is compromising her the family’s genetic make-up, let’s say, by marrying somebody as dark as Devin. That’s what not being of the right sort means.”
“If that’s how they feel, then I’m not of the right sort. I shouldn’t be invited to these things?”
“But you are of the right sort, Souci. You became so when you married me. I’m an important man, so you became an important woman. That’s why you’re invited. It looks very good for them to be close acquaintances of the prime minister’s wife. It’s really all a game. Usually harmless gossip being circulated. But sometimes some interesting things come out of those parties … things that were whispered during bedtime encounters and not meant to have gotten beyond the bedroom. And it’s not always salacious. Sometimes, it has economic or social ramifications.”
“Is that why you like for me to go to the garden parties?” I asked. Lewis lifted his head and sat upright.
“Do you see it as a chore, Souci? Because you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“No. I don’t mind going at all. I always get some good laughs from listening to those stooche women talk about each other.”
“Good. Because it’s always a good idea to keep these women on your side. If you learn to play along with their little game, you’ll be just fine. And by you playing along, you might be able to help me more than you ever thought possible. It’s amazing, but sometimes gossip provides the most useful kind of information.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said as I replayed the conversation I had with Paulette and Marilyn.
“Lewis, aren’t you happy?” I asked. He seemed to really think about this question.
“I don’t think about my life in terms of happiness
and unhappiness,” he finally said. “At least not any more. Now I only think in terms of goals fulfilled, I suppose.” He then seemed to drift a million miles away.
“I think I need to take a little walk,” he said suddenly.
“You’re going to go conjure up some magic in the trees?” I asked. He turned toward me with a puzzled look on his face.
“I’ve seen you go in there at night a couple of times and not come back out,” I said. “Back in Stepney, you go into the dark bush at that time of night, there is some obeah business going on there.”
“Do you really think I’m doing magic? I thought we settled that in Stepney. I might not practice it obediently, but Catholicism is my religion”
“Plenty of people have religion. But the minute all their praying doesn’t seem to be working, they look toward something else.”
“If you’re up to a bit of a walk, I’ll show my obeah,” he said. “Come with me.”
“Okay, but where are we going?” I followed him out into the backyard and into the orange grove, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he started down a small path that wound through the trees. The hillside was steep and my feet slid through the soft mud. Lewis didn’t seem to have much of a problem though. He continued to hold onto me with one hand and to clear the low-lying branches out of the way with his other hand.
When the trees finally ended, they gave way to a tiny, unpaved road I never knew existed. We traveled about quarter of a mile along this road, which gave way to giant ferns and jackfruit trees and even a couple of ackee trees along the way. The air was filled with the sweet scent of ripening mangos. Something skittered from the brush on one side of the road to the other. It could have been a small dog or a coney or a mongoose. I couldn’t tell. We got to a grassy hill, and the road stopped there and branched off to the right of it. Lewis started up the hill. I followed closely behind, my breath coming in spurts. My calf muscles began to strain under my weight. When it seemed as if we would never reach wherever it was Lewis was racing to, we got to the top of the hill. Lewis stopped walking and stood still as he looked off at a large, decaying house. There was something dark, almost sinister about it. It seemed a place a thousand duppies would call home.
“That’s the main plantation house. It’s called Skyward,” he said as several crows squawked loudly as they flew toward it.
“What happened to it?”
“It was right after abolition. One night, around midnight, a torch was set to it. There were so many stories of injustice surrounding this place, more so than the other plantations. It’s odd though, how part of it still stands, as if it were trying to hold on.”
Lewis started down the hill and toward the house. I followed, while trying to ignore the long blades of overgrown grass creeping up along my legs, tickling them. When we reached level ground, he plopped down onto the grass and crossed his legs.
“We used to come up here and run around and play and be free,” he said.
“It must have been nice having a brother to play with.”
“Not William. I didn’t really spend a lot of time with him. He is three years older, so we had different interests. He was a great cricket player and a great debater and a great scholar and a great artist. My father described William as the essence of Montrose ideals. And since every generation of my family has had a barrister, it was only natural that William was expected to become ours. Back then, I wasn’t particularly good at anything. Actually, I was lousy at most. I used to be so jealous.” He shook his head. “I never realized just how much pressure they put him under.”
“But you became the lawyer.”
“William received a law degree long before me. Only problem was, the whole affair absolutely bored him to tears. Living according to the constricting rules of my father and according to what society deemed morally best for a person of William’s station, well, it became too overwhelming. Little by little, he withdrew from the glare and reinvented himself somewhere else. In a place where he doesn’t have to explain his life to anyone else. I envy him for that.”
I followed Lewis’ eyes as he looked out toward the old house. It was very peaceful sitting out in the open, surrounded by that great field of grass. The sun hadn’t set yet, but I could hear a million crickets serenading us with their high pitched song. I looked over at Lewis. I wondered if he was thinking about what had happened down at the hospital site, or maybe Elsie Smalls was clouding his mind. I wanted so badly to ask him about her, but there was no way I could really explain how I had found out about her in the first place. But then I thought, maybe I was wrong altogether. Maybe he didn’t think about Elsie at all. Maybe Agnes had completely replaced her in his thoughts. I felt something against my arm and looked up toward the sky. A great storm cloud had drifted above. Soon, I felt another drizzle.
“We’re not going to make it back without getting drenched. We’ll have to wait it out in there,” he said while looking toward Skyward. He took off his jacket and draped it around my shoulders as we ran toward the old house. We had only made it a few feet when the skies opened up. The earth quickly turned into mush, and it became more and more difficult to run. As each of my feet sank into the mire, I pulled up a sandal filled with mud. When we got the house, I saw that one half of its front door hung loosely from rusty hinges. The other half was nowhere to be found. Lewis walked in cautiously. There was grass and weeds and all sorts of plant life springing up from between what was left of the floorboards. In one corner, rain streamed in through a gaping hole in the roof. I looked down at my mud covered feet.
“That won’t do,” Lewis said. “Take off your shoes and push your skirt up a bit. Come on, come closer to the entrance.… Now, hold your left foot out.” I did as I was told, and he cupped his hands together, gathered rainwater, and washed my foot off. He did the same with my right foot, then he set my sandals outside to be washed off by the falling rain.
“Sorry,” I said.
“For what?”
“I got big, hard, country feet.”
“I’ve seen bigger.” Lewis let out a big, booming laugh. “I’ve seen harder and I’ve seen feet that were more country in my day.”
“Well, I’m sure most of those stooche riche women here don’t have hard feet. Probably as soft as silk.”
“Most of the rich women here haven’t done a hard day’s work.”
I smiled. Lewis removed his jacket from around my shoulders and laid it on the ground.
“Sit down,” he said. As I sat, he walked over to the doorway and leaned against the inner wall, staring out into the rain. “I hope the rain lets up. I don’t want you to catch pneumonia.”
“I’m really not that wet,” I said as I tried to rub away the prickly little goose bumps springing up along my arms
Lewis moved back over to where I was, sat down and wrapped his arms around me. I closed my eyes and listened to the raindrops. There was the fresh smell of the rain and the clean, lemony scent of Lewis’ clothes. When I opened my eyes, I noticed him looking wistfully out into the rain. There was something so sad in his eyes. What was running through his mind? What was haunting his soul?
As if he felt me staring, he suddenly looked away from the door and down into my eyes. I didn’t turn away. I thought that if I looked deeply enough, I might have been able to understand. The left side of his mouth curled into a faint smile. He pulled his arms tighter around me and buried his face into my neck. I suddenly felt his lips against my neck, then against my cheeks and my forehead.
My mind began to spin, and I could once again hear Michele’s words echoing through my brain. “You is aooman, right? An’ Lewis is definitely a mon. Forget ’bout all de oddah t’ings. You is a ooman, him is a mon. Dat’s all you need.” But was it really as simple as that? When his lips touched mine, I decided it was that simple. I could only hope my heart wouldn’t just burst open right there and put an end to the moment just as it had gotten started.
I was in a fairy tale like dream, and he was the handsome prince
I never thought I would come across. I didn’t shut my eyes at first. I was too afraid that if I did, the dream would end. Lewis Montrose was kissing me—Souci Alexander from the mountainside of St. Ann. He was responding to me in a way I thought men like him only responded to the beautiful women on the covers of paperback romances; to beautiful women who were named Agnes Gooding. Lewis guided me back onto the floor and eased his body unto mine. I felt a thousand small sparks surge through my body, then I went limp. This was not the same feeling I had whenever I was with Greenie. This was not the same feeling I had when I let that boy from Prickle Pole “put a likkle somet’ing somet’ing in it an’ on it.” I had held my breath then and started counting to one hundred, hoping it would soon be over. Fortunately, I only had to go as high as seventy-one. This day, the thought of counting never even crossed my mind.
* * *
I suppose I had drifted off. When I opened my eyes, I found Lewis looking at me. He had a strange look on his face. I couldn’t tell what it meant.
“Did you say something?” I asked.
He just stood there looking at me for what seemed like forever.
“I forgot an appointment,” he mumbled. “It’s time we get back home. The rain has let up for now, but it looks like another storm might roll in. We don’t have much time.” Lewis was moving toward the door before he even finished his sentence. I gathered myself as he waited just outside the house.
“My shoes …” I began.
“They’re out here. You can get them once you’ve gotten dressed.”
I strapped on my sandals, and we were soon jogging back down the wet road that led back to Reach. But night had fallen, and it was almost impossible for me to see two inches in front of my own feet. Lewis didn’t seem to have any problems finding his way. We moved silently, both caught up in our own thoughts, I suppose. I was so happy and excited, I probably wouldn’t have been able to formulate words even if I had wanted to. The moment we arrived on the grounds, Lewis looked at his watch and rushed into the house.
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