by Luke Brown
They felt each other’s love and had no doubt it was real.
Chapter 4
Essie’s favorite food was Jamaica’s national dish, which was made of ackee combined with pieces of cod. The two were put into a Dutch pot or deep frying pan to be simmered down with various seasonings, including onion, black pepper, tomatoes, and a little hot sauce. Essie loved her ackee and saltfish with a variety of side dishes, but her favorite was plain white rice. To her, it was a tantalizing combination. It was most delightful, and she would give up anything in exchange for her favorite meal.
Therefore, it was a stunning surprise when she turned down the Fergusons’ offer to have dinner with them one evening. Essie had diligently prepared the ackee and saltfish and presented the food at the table, but she declined to join the family for their meal.
That was so unusual, it caused Nurse Ferguson to inquire about her health. “Essie, my dear child, are you feeling okay?”
“Yes, Nurse Ferguson.”
“You’ve never turned away your favorite dish before. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just don’t feel like eating it today.”
“What are you going to eat instead?”
“I’ll just eat a piece of bread and a pear for now, and maybe later I’ll have some plain rice with butter.”
“Okay, suit yourself, child. All I know is that something isn’t right.”
Essie also wondered what was wrong with her. She couldn’t imagine turning down her favorite meal, but she had no appetite for ackee. The sight and smell of it nauseated her.
For the next few weeks, Nurse Ferguson noticed that Essie’s behavior changed significantly. She slept an awful lot, often forgetting to do chores around the house, and spent excessive time in her bedroom. She even forgot to pick Mary up from school one evening as instructed. This oversight caused a lot of chaos and panic, as Mary was not picked up until two hours later than usual.
Nurse Ferguson got very upset and called Essie aside to tell her that she had to leave. And so Essie was fired from the best job she ever had. Sadness overwhelmed her, followed by confusion and loss. She didn’t know what to do, but she admitted they were right. She knew her work performance was no longer acceptable, but she couldn’t seem to do much about it. Her body was changing. She’d gained significant weight and tired more and more quickly. She called Cherry to see if she could help her with a place to stay temporarily until she could get another job.
Cherry, who lived with her parents, asked them if her friend could stay a few days at their home. They agreed, saying it was all right as long as it was only for a few days. Essie was grateful and happy to hear the good news. She and Cherry packed her belongings at the Fergusons’ and went to Cherry’s home. Essie was still confused, unsure of where to go or what to do next.
As Essie was carrying a box into the bedroom at Cherry’s home, she fell to the ground.
Cherry saw her fall and started yelling. “Help! Mommy! Daddy! Help! Essie fainted.” Cherry feared it was due to exhaustion. Cherry’s parents hurried downstairs and saw Essie lying on the floor. They rushed her to the hospital. It was there that the doctors diagnosed her with a miscarriage. She had been three months pregnant.
Maybe Nurse Ferguson knew it all along, Essie thought. That could be the real reason why she fired me. She didn’t want to be bothered with a maternal situation on the job. Essie hadn’t planned for a baby, but to know she’d just lost one made her very sad.
When Stedman heard, he was also sad because he would have loved to have his first child with a pretty girl like Essie. He immediately rushed to the hospital to see her. When he got there, he found her in tears.
“Stedman, I’m sorry I lost your baby.”
Stedman comforted her. “Essie, my love, don’t cry. I love you, and I want you to come and live with me. We’ll have another baby and be a family.”
Essie hugged him and cried on his shoulder.
Chapter 5
At fourteen, Essie was a strikingly beautiful young child. She had a pretty face with a light complexion, yet a humble appearance that allowed her to wear a subtle, pleasant expression wherever she went.
Essie had a shy, childish smile, but when she laughed, she would light up with glee, and her happiness could be seen from a mile away. She laughed hard and loud, holding nothing back. She loved a good joke and would be the only one laughing long after everyone else had stopped.
However, Essie was not talkative. She was a humble, thoughtful, and rather polite child. She made friends easily, although she enjoyed being alone. Sometimes she would sit by the back porch in her huge backyard and stare out over the serene, variegated green mountaintops, deep in thought, lost in her own little world like Alice in Wonderland.
She often wondered about her biological mother. Even a black-and-white photo would be consoling to her, if only there were one around. Essie got her beautiful features from her mother, Doris Lynn, a tall, skinny, light-skinned, gorgeous young lady. A perfect mixture of ethnicities, she exhibited Indian, Chinese, and Jamaican features. This explained Essie’s long, straight hair and other unique attributes.
Doris Lynn had just turned eighteen years of age when she became pregnant with Essie. Essie’s father was always a mystery. Doris never told anyone how she got pregnant or named her baby’s father. When asked about it, she would quickly change the subject. If she was pushed too hard, she would shut down and not speak at all. Sometimes she didn’t speak to anyone for weeks. Nevertheless, everyone in her family supported her pregnancy. After all, she was of grown age and didn’t need anyone’s consent to start her own family.
Her family remained tolerant and patient with her. They all hoped that after she delivered the baby, she would be less emotional and would open up communication on that oh-so-critical paternal topic.
This made the shocking news from the Lucie General Hospital on the rainy, misty eve of March 26, 1922, all the more difficult to take. Frozen at first when she heard the bad report, Doris’s mother stood perfectly still, as if afraid any movement would cause her to shatter. She stayed as still as if she were wrapped tightly in a sheet of wine glasses that were stacked from side by side and from head to toe. Or as if she were confined by wine glasses from the ground up, one on top of the other, which would fall and shatter if she moved as much as an inch. The only part of her that still moved was her heart, and even her heart was totally out of sync, like a grandfather clock left in an empty house, chiming loud and clear, but completely off rhythm.
Doris died while giving birth to Essie on that lonely, miserable night. No one knew all the details of her death or what exactly happened. Heartbroken and distraught, the family mourned and wept the loss of their loved one. For many weeks and months, long after Doris’s funeral, they were deeply depressed, left with so many unanswered questions.
Chapter 6
“Essie, wake up. Momma said you need to clean the house today.”
“Rachael, what time is it?” Essie mumbled as she vigorously rubbed her sleepy eyes.
“Time fi get up yuh red dundus pickny,” Rachael said to her stepsister in a raw Jamaican patois dialect. “Time to get up, you red-speckled colored child.” It was 6:00 a.m. on a Sunday when Rachael went to Essie’s room because she was having difficulty sleeping.
“Really, Rachael, what time is it? It seems much too early to wake up.”
“It is time to get up, you lazy scoundrel,” Rachael said with a mean expression on her face.
“What time is it?” Essie asked again. “I’ll clean the house. I do it all the time. I just wondered if you know what time it is.”
“Lazy pork head,” Rachael said rudely. “If you want to know the time, why don’t you go find out for yourself?”
Frustrated, groggy, and sleepy, Essie crawled slowly out of bed and poked her head into the living room, stealing a quick peek at the loudly ticking bright-orange clock on the wall. Her hair stood out from her head in disarray, blocking her view. She wiped a tendril f
rom her face so she could see the time more clearly. Did it say 6:05?
Essie could not believe that Rachael, who should have been sleeping, was up and awake, forcing her to get up to clean the house. Essie rubbed her eyes again in disbelief. It just didn’t make any sense. Maybe she wasn’t reading the time properly. Yes, it said 6:05.
She took a curious peek through the window to see how it looked outside. She had a clear view, with the aid of the disappearing moonlight, of the old rusty washbasin that was once white in color but now brown and half buried in the ground, like a shallow grave. It was the old familiar landmark of the Streetes’ make-believe property boundary on the right side of the house.
It was still dark but with a misty, smoky appearance, a foretaste of the approaching dawn. It was much too early to clean the house, especially on a Sunday morning. Essie knew that she couldn’t clean now even if she wanted to honor Rachael’s wish. Everyone in the Streete family was still asleep, except Rachael, and cleaning would only serve to rudely awaken them. Then she would really be in trouble.
Essie went back to her room and saw Rachael standing at the door with an empty bucket hanging from her left hand. She wondered what dirty trick she was up to now. “Rachael, it’s only a little after six. Why are you up so early? Can’t sleep?”
“No, I woke up, so I have to make sure that you are awake also. You’ve been living on our family for free. Life is too easy for you. If I’m up, then you must also be up. Get used to it, you orphan scoundrel.”
“Rachael, why don’t you just go back to bed and try to get some sleep? Count sheep if you have to. When you get up so early, what good does that do you?”
“Makes me feel much better, pig face.”
Pig face? Essie thought to herself. Me? She’s talking about herself being fat as a pig. And if our faces were to be compared side by side, whose face would most likely resemble a pig?
It was only a thought, since she dared not breathe a word of such terrible truth. “Okay, I’m going back to bed, Cinderella,” Essie said sarcastically.
“Have a nice dream, pig face,” Rachael said, barely stepping aside enough to let Essie squeeze through. Rachael then stood at the door with an evil grin on her face, waiting to see Essie’s next reaction.
“Oh my God. My bed is soaked. Rachael, what did you do? Did you pour all this water into my bed? You have gone too far now. This is not funny. I’ll have to tell Aunt Rose as soon as she wakes up.”
“I’ll tell Momma that you did it. You got angry with me, and you wet your bed. Prepare for a beating from Dad. As I said, have a nice dream.” Rachael chuckled as she left for bed.
Essie knew she was right. Aunt Rose would only call Uncle Amos to straighten things out. It would no doubt end with an unfair flogging that she could certainly do without.
Essie turned her mattress onto the other side so that the water could drain and the bed could eventually dry out. She lay on the floor, a deep sadness overtaking her.
Another hungry mouth to feed was the last thing anyone in Doris Lynn’s family wanted. It is said that one has to be poor to know the luxury of giving. They felt very sorry for their orphan grandchild, but the Lynns had no room or time to raise another child. They already had a large household, and to make matters worse, they were very poor.
Doris’s parents, Vera and Danny Lynn, were destitute farmers whose scope of farming was so small, it seemed as if they farmed solely for themselves. The little piece of nutrient-shy land that comprised their backyard barely yielded a harvest adequate to feed the impoverished family of six in their overcrowded household. At the time of Doris’s death, Vera and Danny Lynn had four children, not including Doris. They all crammed into a dilapidated two-bedroom country house made of mismatched pieces of wood and rusty sheets of zinc. Propped up on four-by-four stilts, the color-shy, sundrenched old house crowned the top of the hillside, close to the main road.
The Lynns were not willing or able to take on any more responsibilities. Already in over their heads with financial burdens of their own, they had nothing more to give.
On the other hand, Aunt Rose, Vera’s youngest of three sisters, was more than willing and able to help raise Vera’s orphan granddaughter. Aunt Rose had been married to Amos Streete, a skillful handyman and carpenter, for ten years. They had two girls: Rachael, seven, and Renee, five. They lived in a modest four-bedroom house that Amos had built ten years earlier. Moreover, they had been trying to conceive another child, but had two failed attempts. So Aunt Rose was more than willing and able to take little baby Essie into their home.
Essie was a pleasant addition to Aunt Rose’s family. They were proud of their pretty little newly adopted baby girl, and Rachael and Renee were happy to have a new baby sister. They took turns carefully holding and playing with young Essie. She was like a new pet in their home, as far as Rachael and Renee were concerned. They nicknamed her Pretty. Essie was the perfect addition to their lives.
This blissful union, however, changed as Essie grew older and more beautiful. Like the evil stepsisters in the Cinderella story, Essie’s stepsisters became jealous of her, and their jealousy got stronger as time went on. They did everything in their power to stifle Essie’s beauty so they could feel better about themselves.
Unfortunately, the whole Streete family was jealous of Essie. They tried to suppress her confidence any way they could.
Essie tried hard to ignore them, but she often broke down and cried. When the family went to town to shop or to have fun, they would leave Essie alone in the house. Sometimes all she could do was cry and hope for better days.
One of the things Essie disliked most was carrying water from the public water pipes. She did it in order to keep the water tanks or reservoirs full at home. It was one of the most demanding tasks she had to do because she had to carry the water in a large bucket on her head back and forth for more than two miles each time.
Essie’s older sisters almost never had to do this task. It seemed so unfair. Whenever she would complain about it, Aunt Rose would shout at her and threaten to call Amos.
This caused Essie to tremble and shake with a deep fear. Amos didn’t need any good reason to beat her. He’d just grab a belt or a stick and start furiously whipping her as hard as he could.
For these reasons and more, Essie dreamed of a better place. She knew she had to leave. She didn’t know where to go or by what means she would get there, but she knew it was just a matter of time. Clearly no longer accepted, she felt the longer she stayed, the more she would strain her welcome.
Chapter 7
Cascade was a rustic, picturesque town, steeped in beauty and located in the parish of Hanover at the northwestern end of Jamaica, West Indies. It was a small, tranquil village full of trees, colorful bamboo, and a large variety of vegetation. Set in a green valley encircled by uncontaminated virgin mountains, the quiet town was defined by the village square, which lay on the outskirts.
As the gateway of the village, the square had a narrow, T-shaped intersection and was the only means of entering the town. All public and private transportation passed through this square on the way to other larger cities or towns.
At that time the main public transportation in Cascade consisted of old, overloaded country buses that were stuffed with goods and large baskets of freshly harvested farm produce. These ugly buses would approach the town square from the west in the mornings and return from the east in the evenings, briefly stopping to drop off or pick up passengers at the town square. The passengers walked to and from these public transports via the third leg of the T-shaped road, which pointed southward.
Travelers leaving the village would have their luggage stacked up in messy piles on the roadside waiting for the bus to arrive. There were a few small and medium-sized local shops located at the town square. This was where most of these travelers would stop to shop while they waited for their transportation to arrive.
As the battered buses approached, they blew their horns in warning. People could h
ear them from miles away, and everyone would gather their luggage and stand at attention, all eyes steadfastly focused in the direction from which they expected the eye-catching vehicle. As the dilapidated, antediluvian vehicle appeared in sight, the people could see piles of loads already on top of it. At times, it would be so overstocked that it would lean to one side as if it was about to turn over.
Strangely, those exiting the bus had just about the same amount of luggage as those boarding the bus. During the loading and unloading, it was sometimes difficult to tell who was coming and who was leaving. After the dust had settled, the bus would drive off and disappear with the previous crowd, leaving the crowd of new arrivals standing in the village square. They would fetch their loads and place them on their backs, shoulders, or heads, then stroll away inland into the Cascade hills, valleys, and mountains via the third leg of the T-shaped crossroads.
The sunbaked road leading into Cascade was paved, but filled with potholes. Taking the road meant a heart-stirring adventure with breathtaking scenery on either side. Farther inland, the road became more mountainous, with scenic hillside landscapes and awe-inspiring views of the sea.
Despite Cascade’s natural beauty and pure fresh air, in Essie’s opinion it was not a place to live. Yes she was abused but she knew she would survive somehow. In her mind, everything works out for good in the end. If it does not, then it’s surely not yet the end. Besides wanting to escape her abusive family, Essie believed Cascade was much too small. She dreamed of a place and a time where she could stretch her wings and fly away to be a part of a bigger and better world. Essie dreamed of living in a big city.
Chapter 8
Now fully grown, Essie lived with Stedman, her first step toward maturity and independence. Each day, she learned more about herself and how to adequately please her man.