“Follow me, she’s in here.” Clive Sheldon’s booming voice preceded his appearance in the kitchen. A gaggle of five press photographers flooded the kitchen in his wake. “Gentlemen, allow me to introduce the young lass that saved the day.” With flashbulbs erupting like fireworks, Clive was in his element. With a flourish fit for a queen, he gestured toward her, stopping just short of a curtsey. Rebecca’s mind completed the picture for her and she smiled broadly to stop the laughter from bubbling out. Hazel always said that her imagination was over-developed. Another barrage of flashlights and her smiling face was captured on film.
Clive didn’t skip a beat. “I’m proud to say that I discovered the remarkable treasure of Rachel Jonas. I’ve always had an eye for true talent, and I’m sure tonight just proved it again.” With a wink for Rebecca, he turned and led them all away to show off the moonlit ocean view from the balcony.
Rachel blinked hard and saw stars for a few seconds. Covering her eyes with both hands, she tried rubbing them to regain her sight. Tumie laughed, “You be famous now, Medêm Rachel!”
Rebecca stayed tucked behind her hands, examining the stars on the inside of her eyelids. “Ja, Tumie. With all the glamorous guests out there, I’m sure that the newspaper would want a disheveled cook on their front page.” She shook her head, causing the stars to swing wildly. Bad idea.
After a few moments, she ventured a peep through one eye. Through the fuzzy halo framing her vision she saw Shane. He was leaning against the island worktop, amusement written all over his face. “Hello Sweet Pea!”
Genuine warmth filled her. “Hey! It’s my knight. What are you doing here?”
Shane gestured with his thumb towards her suitcase at his feet. “Thought you might need this. How is it going?”
Rebecca ducked as a waiter carrying a tray laden with dirty dishes squeezed past her.
“Just great. Tiring, but it all worked out so well. I think I’m going to be happy working here.” The words left her lips and rang true in her heart. Maybe God really did care for her after all.
Dodging an apron-clad chef, Shane squashed up close to her, shifting her suitcase with his foot. “Well, it’s a good thing you are settling in here. The guys are back, and they brought another bloke with them. He’s nabbed the couch. Would have broken my heart to see my damsel in distress relegated to the floor.”
Rebecca laughed. “The quarters here are small, but better than sleeping on your floor. Thanks for the offer though!”
An awkward silence fell as another waiter brushed past them.
Shane picked up her suitcase. “I’m in the way here. I’d better be going. Where can I put this for you?”
“I’m about to knock off. I can take it from here. Thank you.”
Shane handed it over and saluted her. “Good-bye, Sweet Pea. Call if you need me.”
“Thank you for everything. I really mean it – thank you.”
Shane nodded and turned to leave.
“Shane… wait.” Rebecca dodged a string of waiters and more dirty dishes to follow him. “Why do you call me Sweet Pea?”
Shane shrugged, “You’re a true princess.” With a wink, he left.
Rebecca stared after him, brow furrowed, “Gee, we certainly cleared that one up. Thank you, Shane.”
__________________________________________
“Jason, the things you’ve just told me don’t surprise me at all. In fact, I’ve been waiting for something to emerge in your life. I wasn’t sure when or how, but I knew the day would come.” The breeze from the sea was picking up, threading through Faith’s gray hair with increasing vengeance.
Jason’s mind back-flipped. “I don’t understand. What are you saying?”
Faith brushed a stray lock from her eyes, sat forward and clasped her hands. “Two things happened while I was expecting you. There was an old man in our church, Oom10 Willie. He walked so closely to God it was scary. He tended to be prophetic, even though back then, I didn’t understand what that was or what it meant. I slipped and fell badly when I was about five months along. All I remember was waking up in Hospital threatening miscarriage. I prayed so desperately. We’d struggled for five years to conceive, I couldn’t bear losing you.” Faith stared out over the ocean, tears coming to her eyes at the memory. Then she smiled at Jason, and briefly cupped his cheek in her palm.
“I’m assuming that you didn’t miscarry—”
“No, dear. Oom Willie came to see me in hospital, saying the Lord had woken him up to pray at about 2am. He’d prayed for us until about 4o’clock, when the Lord gave him a scripture and told him to come and speak it over you while you were still in my womb.” She closed her eyes and quoted from memory, “I, the Lord, have called you in righteousness; I will take hold of your hand. I will keep you and will make you to be a covenant for the people and a light for the Gentiles, to open eyes that are blind, to free captives from prison and to release from the dungeon those who sit in darkness. Isaiah 42 verse 6 and 7.”
Faith turned back to Jason, face aglow, “The bleeding had stopped before he’d even finished speaking. Your life was safe. From then on, I knew that you were special.”
Jason stared at his Mom, eyes wide. “You’ve never told me this before.”
“You weren’t ready to hear it yet.” She eyed him up and down once before turning back to the ocean. “I think the time has come.” She cleared her throat and continued, “The second thing was how we arrived at your name. The week before you were born, three different people came up to me and told me, they felt that I was carrying a “Jason”. Now I’m talking about people completely unconnected to one another. I went to the Lord and asked Him about this. I felt Him nudge me to find out what ‘Jason’ means.”
Jason found himself perched on the edge of the deck chair, trying not to look too interested and failing miserably. “What does it mean?”
“It means ‘healer, quickened in spirit’.” She let the words sink in. “Can you see why your strange life doesn’t surprise me? You’re just stepping into what God built you for. He’s shown you the kingdom keys to freedom.”
Jason shoved himself back into the deck chair with a snort. “Come on, Mom. You know I’m no saint. You can’t tell me that God can use a life so buckled out of the shape of his original mold. I am nothing like what God originally planned, I’ve seen too much and done too much.” He sliced the air with a hand, “Rotten to the core.”
“I’m the first to agree with you. I don’t understand how God can use you when your life isn’t right yet. But the Bible says that His ways are not our ways and His thoughts are higher than ours! For His own reasons, He’s chosen to reveal Himself to you in this way. Give me your wallet.”
“What?”
“I just want to show you something. Give it to me.”
Jason handed over the wallet looking dubious. Faith rifled through, before extracting a brand new Hundred Rand note. Tossing the wallet back to him, she held up the note and asked, “What is this?”
“That’s a stupid question, it’s a Hundred Rand note.”
“Humor me. What can you buy with it?”
Impatience thinly veiled, he answered, “A good few pizza’s, maybe a CD? Lots of stuff. What’s your point?”
Faith said nothing, but proceeded to scrunch the note up into a tiny ball. Holding it out in the palm of her hand, she asked again, “What is this?”
“It’s still a Hundred Rand note.”
“What can you buy with it?”
“Same stuff as before.” Puzzlement replaced impatience.
Faith took the tiny balled up note, and dipped it in Jason’s cold coffee. Then she tossed it onto the wooden slats of the deck and proceeded to grind it underfoot.
Jason’s mouth hung open. “Mom!”
Faith was laughing as she held up the soggy, screwed up note. “What is this, Jason?”
Her laugh was infectious. Jason was chuckling as he answered, “It’s still one Hundred Rand, and I can still buy lots of
stuff.”
Faith then carefully straightened the note, and promptly tore it nearly in two. She held it up by a corner, the bottom half dangling precariously.
Jason stopped laughing, and reached out to grab the note. “Hey! That’s my money.”
Faith held it just out of his reach and raised her eyebrows, head cocked to one side.
Conceding defeat, Jason answered her unspoken question. “It’s still one Hundred Rand, and I can still buy a lot of stuff. What’s your point?”
Faith gently held the soiled note in her hands. “My son, it doesn’t matter how much you’ve been bruised, crushed or torn apart by life, you are still everything that God created you to be. You haven’t lost an ounce of your worth in His eyes. All He asks is that you will surrender your life into His hands so that He can heal you.” She sank back into the deck chair, still cradling the damaged note in her hands.
It was all too much for Jason. He stood to leave, walking away as he spoke, “I’ve got to go. Thanks for lunch.”
He was already through the door and halfway down the passage when Faith called out, “Jason – your money?”
“Keep it.”
“I’m here if you need me, Jason.”
The words followed him out the door before it swung shut behind him, cutting off any further comment.
__________________________________________
Shane had dutifully removed all traces of the unwelcome female tenant by the time Jason arrived back at the flat. Shane himself was also conspicuously absent.
Jason poured coffee and made his way to where the other two sat poring over the phone book and the newspaper. “How’s the hunt going?”
Tim rubbed his nose and squinted at Jason. “Didn’t know there were so many of these places. Look at this list.” He held up an A4 page that boasted three open lines. The rest were covered in his spidery scrawl. “I suppose we should start phoning around.”
Kenneth was growing glummer by the minute. “If she’s not using her real name, there’s no way we’re going to find her that way. I think we’ll need to do some footslogging. We’ve got a photo of her.”
Jason nodded grimly. “For once I agree with you.” He frowned briefly as an unwelcome thought occurred to him. “Tim, get hold of the Goodwood’s. Ask them to check if Claude is still at the B&B in Stutterheim. He had no way of knowing that she left. That could give us a bit of time. I’d feel a whole lot better knowing we were a step ahead.”
Shane arrived back as Tim was making the call. “Hey guys. How’s the hunt going?”
“Slowly.” Not one to mince words, Jason tackled him, “Who the heck was sleeping in my bed while we were away?”
“Long story. Just a damsel in distress that I rescued off the beachfront from a mob of drunkards. She’d just arrived in town and had nowhere to go. Poor kid. I felt sorry for her, that’s all.”
“So you bring her in here and give her my bed.”
“Well I couldn’t let her loose in his room.” He jerked a thumb over shoulder in the direction of Tim. “If she wasn’t eaten alive, the radioactive leftovers would surely have done the job.”
“You’re an oaf. Do you know that? A big, soft-headed oaf. Anyway, you’re forgiven. Just don’t do it again.”
Shane shrugged as if it didn’t really matter, one way or the other. “Thanks. How was your trip up north? Did you get your girl?
“She’s not my girl. Believe it or not, her trail has led us back here. Oh, we did get this much.” Fishing around in his pocket, he pulled out the photo of Rebecca and handed it over.
Shane’s eyes stretched. “What did you say her name was?”
“Rebecca. Why?”
“She’s identical to the damsel I rescued.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Can’t be her though, her name is Rachel.”
“We were just saying that with Claude on her heels, she’s probably traveling under an alias. Do you think it could be—?”
They were interrupted by Tim, speaking in a tone of voice that sent a chill down Jason’s spine. “Claude left Stutterheim on the same night Rebecca disappeared.”
Jason reached for his shoes and started strapping them on. “Okay chaps. No more treading water. We’ve got to find this girl before Claude does and it sounds as if he’s got a head start. Tim, you stay here and keep phoning B&B’s. Ask about Claude and Rebecca. Let me know if anything turns up. I think we should start with your damsel, Shane. Let’s go.”
__________________________________________
Claude stalked the streets with his insides sour. As much as he swore he hated the farm, the amalgamation of buildings, traffic and people that constituted a town made him nervous. He hated feeling nervous. He hated being in town. It was Rebecca’s fault that he was here in the first place. He snarled out loud at the thought, causing the crush of people around him to disperse somewhat. Good. He liked that.
“Rebecca, Rebecca. Where are you? Come to me. I’m going to find you anyway.” She couldn’t hide forever; destiny would deliver her up to him. He loped along, swinging his head from side to side – looking.
Finding a café, he popped in to buy a fruit juice. It struck him as he was queuing to pay. He knew that face. It was splashed across the cover of the Daily News in glorious techni-color. Rebecca had made the newspaper.
He laughed then, knowing that he was right. They were destined for each other, and however much she squirmed to avoid it, fate was on his side.
Chapter 22 – A Boat and a Log
Clive Sheldon sat back looking satisfied. “I think you’ve hit on a real winner for tonight Rachel. You were heaven-sent.” The grin on his face took years off him.
Rebecca smiled back and replied, “So were you, Mr. Sheldon. Trust me.”
They’d been sitting together for an hour going over possible menu combinations for the next week to fit in with the restaurant’s launch theme of around the world in 8 days.
It was a warm moment that was soon over. “The lunchtime shift is covered. You’re off duty, but I suggest you go rest up for tonight. Let yourself out, I have some other business to take care of.”
Rebecca left his office feeling light inside. Mr. Sheldon was a difficult man, but fair – much like Edward Rochester. The biggest difference was that he didn’t come with an obsessed son. Another bonus was being back in civilization. She loved the farm, and the peace that was there, but it felt good to be around people. Normal people.
She turned right to head up to her room, suddenly realizing that she’d left her purse in the restaurant’s reception area. Sheldon had paid her handsomely from last night’s takings. It felt good to have taken the first step toward independence. Life seemed to be working out okay. Maybe Claude had done her a favor.
A cheerful buzz emanated from the lunchtime crowd that filled the restaurant. Skipping down the last few stairs, Rebecca rounded the corner and froze. Claude was speaking to the receptionist. Sinking behind the palm that shielded her from his view, Rebecca felt her hands begin to shake. Peeping through the fronds she saw a newspaper in Claude’s hands. A newspaper with her face on it.
“Let me ring her room, Sir.” The receptionist dialed and waited. “I’m sorry; she seems to have gone out. She’s on duty this evening; you’ll have to come back then.”
Claude leaned forward and started whispering to the receptionist. She shook her head in response. He took out his wallet and flashed a few notes. It was too much for the young girl. Peering quickly left and right, she took the money and pocketed it, waving Claude in the direction of the stairs to the staff quarters. The stairs right behind Rebecca.
__________________________________________
Shane pulled up outside the restaurant for third time in three days. “This is it. Hopefully the end of our quest.”
The other guys had already evacuated the vehicle and were making their way toward the door. Shane locked up and followed.
The receptionist was looking rather pale, and she turned an alarming shade of red w
hen they showed her the photo of Rebecca. She spoke too quickly with eyes that never settled. Her hands kept fiddling with something in her pocket. “Yes, she does work here, but she’s not in at the moment now. I’m afraid you will have to try this evening when she’s on duty.”
“Are you sure? Could we check her room?”
“Yes, I’m sure, and no – you cannot. I’m sorry; I cannot be of any further assistance.” She promptly turned her back on them, ending the conversation. The three men looked at each other, silently conferring. Tim spoke their thoughts out loud. “I guess that means we come back later.”
__________________________________________
Jason had been feeling a growing desire to get on his boat and head for the open sea. In the light of the urgency of finding Rebecca, he’d ignored the desire as a frivolous distraction. As the day had progressed, the vague yearning had escalated into a driving compulsion that couldn’t be ignored. With nothing else to do but wait for evening, he left the others and headed for his boat feeling strangely relieved.
Stopping only when the shore was no longer in sight, Jason cut the engine and let it drift. He’d spent the last two weeks running away from God, or fighting against Him.
He knew it was time to quit; he had to stop and face his nemesis. Not sure what to do or say, he lay back, the sun warm on his face.
When he opened his eyes, his little sister was sitting opposite him. He knew it was all in his head, but she looked so real his heart ached. The sunlight sparked bright flecks in her hair and she grinned at him with her eyes twinkling.
“Oh, Nics. What would you do in my shoes? Would you still have been able to trust Him if He’d taken me away?”
His little sister didn’t speak, she didn’t need to – her expression said it all. What kind of stupid question is that? Of course. He always knows best.
Shackles: The truth will set you free Page 17