Loving Mr. Wright

by Brenda Barrett

  When he sold them, he needed to explore some more options for work. He could always start his own restaurant or face the music by applying to one of those hotels and enduring their questions about his five year gap in employment. Not every employer was as conscientious with police records as he had feared. Maybe he could get by until someone in HR found out. Then he was sure he would be in trouble, no hotel would willingly hire an ex-con.

  He remembered when he was head chef at one of the prominent hotels in Kingston, one young man, a sous chef, had somehow slipped under the radar with his criminal record. When Human Resources found out he was called to a meeting where they discussed firing him. Though he had begged for the guy, the hotel had been adamant that he had to go.

  "It would not be good for our reputation if he continues here." The HR manager had looked through her glasses at him. "He was in prison for stealing. Can you imagine if we let down our guard around him, he would rob us blind."

  Caleb was given the responsibility to tell the young man of their decision. He could still remember the pain on his face and his departing words while he packed his belongings. "Once a sinner always a sinner."

  He sighed. He couldn't allow himself to accept that doctrine; his motto was once a sinner there is a savior. However, he needed to do something; he couldn’t just drift with the tides, stay up in the bushes, and hibernate.

  He had serious feelings for Erica, but he didn’t know if it was love. He had never really felt this way about someone before, not even Julia. He knew he felt protective toward Erica. Her smile made him feel all soft inside; he loved her sense of humor and her intelligence. When he touched her, even accidentally, certain parts of his anatomy reminded him that he was alive, and even more so since he hadn't touched a woman in six years.

  He understood that he had to do something about his present circumstance; a man had a need to be a provider. He wouldn't allow her to be the one carrying the financial burden in their relationship.

  She had helped him enough, even if she didn’t realize it. She had saved him loads of money by just coming up in the mornings and helping him to clear out the undergrowth. He did not know any woman who was willing to do that for a guy. That alone made her remarkable and there was a little fear inside him that said that she was too good for him.

  Maybe if he had a job and earned some money he would see himself as good enough for Erica. Maybe if they never talk about that little issue of his imprisonment then he could propose to her. They could have a small wedding and then live in the hills. He could give her those babies she was craving for and they'd live happily together.

  Erica would love that. She wore her emotions on her sleeve and if that failed, she'd just straight out tell him what she thought. He knew she wanted him to take their relationship further but his past was holding him back.

  He could still feel the leg cuffs that they had slapped on his ankles, and that ominous looking handcuff that they had put on his wrist, and the hard accusing looks that the policemen had given him when they threw him in the jail cell.

  "People like you should rot in hell. Jail is too good for you," The policeman had said to him when they carted him off to prison.

  His head hurt when he thought about it and a vestige of fear held him in the position he was sitting long after he should have gotten up.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Caleb had never gone over to Farmer McGregor's house by way of the front entrance. He had walked all the way down hill for about a mile before he found the entrance to the house.

  It was a sprawling mansion and Caleb was taken aback. His perception of the short farmer with the Santa Claus beard and a twinkle in his eye was shattered. Apparently, Farmer McGregor was one of those rich farmers who probably dabbled into farming for fun.

  He made that judgment and then immediately chastised himself for it. He had realized long ago, when he had been sitting in prison for what he thought was for the rest of his life, that one shouldn't judge a person by what he had or how he looked.

  The trepidation with which he had started to approach the wrought iron gate dissipated somewhat with that little speech. He pressed the buzzer that was on one of the gate columns and then the gates swung open.

  He walked up the driveway toward a fountain shaped like a little boy with a jar in his hand. The house was white and imposing. Two palm trees were planted at the entrance and it gave the entryway a warm feel.

  The place looked like a hotel he had worked at when he was a junior chef in Ottawa, Canada, especially with the tulips of various colors proudly waving their beautiful heads in the gentle breeze.

  The garage, which he could see from where he stood, had at least three antique cars—he spotted a 1974 Ferrari GTS. He had only ever spotted one downtown Vancouver and he stared transfixed at it for a while, until Farmer McGregor cleared his throat. "I bought that in 1974, after saving up for two years. I paid £5,500 for it. I wanted to impress a girl named Sara Greening. She was the most beautiful girl in St. Ann."

  He laughed and his eyes twinkled. "She rejected me for another, and alas, after that I went into a drunken stupor, picked up the ugliest girl in St. Ann and married her."

  "Huh?" Caleb asked him, was he calling his wife ugly.

  "Stop telling tales," an attractive middle-aged woman called from the verandah. Caleb spun around and she waved.

  "That's the wife," Farmer McGregor said wiping his eyes. "Turns out she wasn't so ugly after all."

  "Oh," Caleb grinned, "hello Mrs. McGregor."

  She came out to them and shook his hand. "Call me Dina. I have heard so much about you."

  "You have?" Caleb asked, puzzled.

  "Oh yes," Dina nodded. "I used to make it a point of duty to visit Reba every Wednesday. The foolish old biddy refused to leave that house until we practically dug her out of there. She was quite concerned about your future after the jail fiasco and she was determined that you could at least have something when you got out."

  "You know about that?" Caleb was alarmed.

  "Of course we do," Farmer McGregor looked at him knowingly, "and we have always believed your Aunt's version of events. I see she was right."

  Caleb nodded. "She was. I lost touch with her before I went to prison. I can vaguely recall her being at the courthouse at my first hearing. I was so distressed at the time that I don't even remember talking to her."

  "She remembered talking to you though, begged us to help." Farmer McGregor kissed his teeth. "I am afraid the decision was made before you even entered court. That's the way of those things."

  Caleb shrugged. "I am just happy God allowed justice to be done."

  "I must say," Farmer McGregor caressed his beard, "it was a miracle, was it not? How everything came together for you."

  "I would say so," Dina said pleasantly. "Would you like to come in?"

  "Well, I came to ask Farmer Mack for some advice about the acres of cocoa I have. There are lots of cocoas on the trees, still unpicked."

  "Come on in," Dina said. "I can fix you some refreshments. I was very anxious to welcome you into the community but Mackie here said I shouldn't smother you…wait for you to come around. I am so happy you are visiting today."

  Caleb nodded and walked behind Dina. She was a small woman with cropped gray curls. She was very slim and moved with elegance. She had turned kindly brown eyes upon him and he wondered, idly, if all the women in St. Ann were this nice.

  The women at church had been very kind to him so far, and then there was Erica—the sweetest of them all. This now seemed to have been the best place to come back to in order to restore his trust in women.

  He entered the massive living room; the cottage where he now lived could probably fit in it. The living room had a cathedral ceiling and he looked up at it in awe.

  "It's impressive, right?" A girl said to him from one of the overstuffed sofas.

  He looked at her; she was in a gray tracksuit and her toenails were painted black, she had a tattoo at the side of her chee
k in the shape of a musical note. She also had long dreadlocks, which was dyed a fiery red.

  He swallowed. "Well the whole place is impressive. I used to think Farmer Mack was a humble farmer."

  "I am a humble farmer." Farmer Mack came to stand beside him.

  "Have a seat. That's my youngest, Priscilla. She looks wild but she is really just crying out for attention…she fancies herself a female Bob Marley. Dina and I managed to have only two biologically but we have eight children in all. Excuse me for a few minutes, I promised to call my oldest, to offer him some advice. He's the one I bought the goats for. He's experimenting with a goat farm, trying to walk in his Pa's footsteps."

  "Okay." Caleb sat down across from Priscilla and she looked at him assessingly.

  "So where have you been hiding?"

  "Hiding? Well I haven’t been hiding, I've been next door."

  "Oh, so how was prison?"

  "Well," Caleb said hesitating, all this time he was sitting at home nervous about his reputation when apparently Farmer McGregor and his family were well aware of his past. "It was tough, try not to go there." Caleb added, "One would expect to talk about the weather with a stranger, not one's prison experience."

  Priscilla brushed him off with a wave. "So are you lonely next door or have you already found somebody? I know prison can be hard on a man." She winked at him suggestively.

  "I am fine," Caleb said frankly. "I became a Christian in prison, promised the Lord, that I would be celibate until I found the right woman."

  She giggled then stood up. "The Lord has heard your prayers, Caleb. Here I am, at your service. Should I follow you home or do you want to follow me to my room?"

  "Sit down." Dina said coming into the room with a tray.

  "Sorry about her, Caleb. She might look like a hard necked prostitute but Prissy is just sixteen."

  "I am of age," Priscilla grumbled, sitting down. "I can have men in my room even if they are recently out of prison."

  Dina ignored her. "She's trying to get some reaction from Mackie and myself with her new found brashness. We told her to stop but she continues with even more of her gimmickry. We are waiting for the good manners and moral principles we taught her to kick in."

  Caleb exhaled. "Well that's okay then."

  "I am adopted," Priscilla said to Caleb. "That should please you Mother, that I'm not yours, biologically."

  Dina snorted. "Adopted or biological you are my child, you belong to me and though over the past two years you have been throwing a tantrum over being adopted," she sighed, "one day you'll get over it."

  Caleb cleared his throat, trying to defuse the tension that he sensed in the room. "This is a nice house."

  "Oh thank you," Dina smiled. "How is your property doing? Have you cleaned up the place yet?"

  "Almost finished," Caleb said, "a friend of mine is helping me."

  "That's good that you have found a friend to help. It is a large place. How many acres is it again?"

  "Ten." Caleb glanced at Priscilla furtively. She was caressing her breasts and doing acrobatics with her tongue.

  Dina said, "You have property and a good crop of goats, that's a lot to own when you have to start life all over again. I think Reba started that cocoa farming because she wanted you to have something if you ever came out."

  Caleb turned to Dina fully because he saw Priscilla from the corner of his eyes taking off her sweatshirt top. "I am very thankful to God for his blessings and I had no idea Aunt Reba had thought of me that way."

  Dina nodded. "She said she has always regretted not taking you when your father was left alone to care for you as a baby. She was always so busy." She poured some lemonade from the fancy pitcher she had on the tray and handed Caleb a glass.

  "Prissy dear," Dina said to Priscilla conversationally.

  "Yes," Priscilla said, her top was now off, revealing a tiny pink tank top that was barely keeping in her generous breasts.

  "Why are you removing your clothes in the living room?"

  "I am hot," Priscilla said, bracing her chest in Caleb's direction.

  "Well," Dina got up, with a pitcher of lemonade in her hand, "you won't mind if I throw this over you, you are acting as if you are in heat. You are making our guest uncomfortable."

  Priscilla got up. "Do you see that, Caleb? They abuse me here daily. Do you want to rescue me from this hellhole?"

  Dina snorted. "Go to your room, young lady."

  "You are abusing me. It's because I am adopted, isn’t it?" She grabbed her sweatshirt and huffed. "One day I am going to run away and go live with Caleb."

  Caleb sat up, a look of sheer alarm in his eyes. He didn't trust young girls, probably never will ever again, and to have one with an apparent crush on him offering herself in such a blatant manner was enough to make him sweat, and worry.

  Dina read his nervousness and quietly said when Priscilla huffed out of the room. "Don’t worry about it, she is harmless, her only fault really is that she is unsure of where her place is in life, and she is a walking ball of raging hormones. We have five girls; we have been through this so many times in different forms."

  Caleb nodded as if he understood, but all he could see in his mind's eye was one particular girl, age eleven, her beady little accusatory eyes staring at him from the comfort of a courtroom witness stand. He tightened his grip around the glass that he was holding and silently reminded himself that not all women were terrible.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It was with deep relief that Caleb sat across Farmer Mack in a large office lined with books. Some of them were paperbacks but most were hardback, large print editions.

  He found the laid back approach that Dina was using with Priscilla unacceptable. What that girl needed was a good spanking, not the mumbo jumbo about her remembering good values and principles.

  Society was going to hell in a barrel because of the new way of dealing with children. They had too much power, and as far as he was concerned, they were too aware of that power.

  He clenched his fist and stopped the memories of his life with Julia and Colleen from rising to the fore again. Today was really shaping up to be a revelation. It's as if his memory valve was now opening and all that was locked away about his life with Julia was now trickling through to his consciousness.

  Pretty soon the trickle would turn into a river and he didn't want to be around people when it was released. He needed to be on his knees, prostate before God, asking him once more to help him deal with the feelings of rage and bitterness that the past brought up.

  "Yes, yes," Farmer McGregor was looking at him quizzically, "you want to know about what to do with the cocoa."

  Caleb nodded. "At first I thought about turning the cocoa into chocolate from scratch and then making desserts but then I realized that the process was too labor intensive and it may not make sense for me right now—I need to work, earn some money."

  Farmer McGregor scratched his chin. "You were a chef, weren’t you?"

  "Yes," Caleb said. "I specialized in pastry but I can do basically anything."

  "Well, well, that's a coincidence. I was talking to a friend of mine, Harlan Donahue, last week… they just finished a high-end boutique hotel called Villa Rose and they are looking for butlers, chefs, and other workers. I'll speak to him about you."

  "Well you can probably tell him about my, er issue," Caleb said quickly, "just in case that will be a problem."

  McGregor nodded. "Definitely, he is a good Christian. He understands about second chances and all of that. You being to prison shouldn't be a problem. Leave it to me."

  "The name Donahue does sound familiar," Caleb said slowly. "Do they go to the Three Rivers Church?"

  "Yes," Farmer McGregor banged the desktop, "yes they do. It's a small world, eh? Is that the church you are attending?"

  "Yes," Caleb said. "Well the first night I came here, I got a lift from Erica Thomas. She was so kind to me."

  Farmer McGregor laughed. "You like her."


  Caleb frowned. "How can you tell?"

  "You have that look of a man smitten." Farmer McGregor sat back in his office chair. It squeaked a bit and then he said to Caleb, "Well let me see… if you want I can send my guys over to your place and they can pick the cocoa. I could sell it to the factory for you."

  "Thank you," Caleb said, a heartfelt bubble of gratitude gripped his chest. "You have been so kind, I was thinking about it the other day… when I just came here you paid me way more for those goats than they were worth."

  "Oh yes," Farmer McGregor steepled his fingers. "I knew you could use the money. I had no idea that you had arrived in St. Ann and was actually surprised to see you there… it's no problem to help. Through the years, Miss Reba was an outstanding neighbor, and up these parts, we look out for our neighbors."

  "That brings me to one suggestion…you can go home and think about it. The five acres with the cocoa are closest to my border. I could buy it from you, say at ten million dollars. It is a really nice piece of land; I could keep the cocoas and maybe expand it over on my side of the property."

  Caleb had zoned out when he heard ten million dollars. His ears started ringing and his mind started racing.

  "I know that it's a lot to think about," Farmer McGregor said drumming his hand on the desk, "so I'll give you time. But whenever you are ready, tell me."

  "That's awesome," Caleb murmured, "I mean, I'll think about it," he cleared his throat.

  "Why don't you and your young lady come to dinner when you have made up your mind," Farmer McGregor said. "I'll tell Dina to make something scrumptious."

  "I don't know what to say," Caleb said standing up.

  "Give it some thought," Farmer McGregor stood up too. "It is land, a very important asset to have in these days, and it is five acres. I just lectured my oldest about the same thing. He is itching to sell his seaside property in St. Ann's Bay but I told him to hold off. This is my number," he gave Caleb his business card, "call me whenever you are ready."