Island on the Edge of the World

by Deborah Rodriguez

  Charlie had to laugh. “Must have been tough getting away with a lie.”

  “You have no idea,” April said. “It was truly irritating, the candles and crystals all over the house, the herbs and the feathers, the smudging and the cleansing, the people coming and going, looking for a reading. It was so embarrassing for a young girl just trying to fit in. Honestly? I think it’s what made me turn to the church, and to Jim. All that weirdness, that touchy-feely bull? I was sick of everyone talking all the time. I just wanted to get out there and do.”

  From the other side of the thick wall surrounding the hotel and its garden came the sounds of night in the city—the lone roar of a motorbike, the toot of a horn, voices echoing in anger.

  “But you know?” her mother continued. “Now I’m actually glad I was raised the way I was. No matter how much I fought it, the things I learned from living with Bea must have crept in somehow when I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Like what?” Charlie asked.

  “Well, like realizing that we need to be open to things beyond what we think we know, that the world is not to be looked at as just black and white.”

  “Seems so,” Charlie agreed.

  “And that everything, virtually everything, happens for a reason.”

  Charlie allowed her head to come to rest on her mother’s shoulder.

  “I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me, Charlie.” She wrapped her arm around her daughter. “I’ve made some terrible mistakes, ones that can’t be erased. But you know, another thing Bea taught me is that the mistakes we make are what we learn from, they’re the things that make us grow.”

  “We all make mistakes, Mom.”

  Her mother gave her shoulder a little squeeze.

  “And right now, I’ve gotta say, I’m feeling pretty okay. Except, of course, for the fact that my blind-as-a-bat grandmother is missing on the streets of a strange city that’s been erupting like a tinderbox, getting herself into who knows what kind of trouble and making me want to tear out my hair.”

  “Bea will be all right. She’s what we used to call a real pisser,” her mother continued. “Do they still use that phrase?”

  “Never heard it, but I get it.”

  “I thought she would have slowed down by now. But apparently not.”

  “So you’re not worried?”

  “Bea knows who to trust. And who to not. She always has.”

  Around them the lights of the old hotel blinked off, leaving them in near darkness on the abandoned veranda.

  “What are you going to do, Mom?”

  “I don’t know, baby. I just don’t know.”

  “You can’t go back to him, not now.”

  “No, I can’t. But I can’t run away, either. This is my home. I’ve never felt more at peace with myself than I do here. Another thing I learned from your grandmother is that we’re all here for a purpose. And somehow mine seems to be linked with this island. It’s hard to explain, but there’s something about the spirit of these people, the way they can see humor in the face of such devastating adversity. Dan ri danje, they say. Teeth laugh at danger. I love that one. But to me, it’s also the way they solve problems, the way they carry respect for their neighbors, and love for their families. I know it sounds crazy, to an outsider.”

  “It’s not crazy, Mom. Not at all.”

  “And Haiti—it’s a small spot on a small island. Jim knows too many people. There’s nowhere for me to hide, even if I wanted to, which I don’t.”

  They talked long into the night, trading memories of a happier past so long ago, sharing hopes and dreams of a future yet to come, the ghosts of the old hotel the only witnesses to their secrets.

  “Can’t an old blind woman get a place to sit anymore?”

  Charlie and her mother woke to the sight of Bea and the woman who’d appeared at the door of her room a few mornings earlier—the woman with the dagger in her hand. Mambo Michèle. To Charlie, they both looked as though they’d been at a rave all night, Bea’s hair pulled loose and flying wild with the dampness of the tropical air, the mambo’s makeup smeared, her eyes bright with excitement. And what was Bea doing wearing Charlie’s skirt, its hem dark as if it had been dragged through the dirt?

  “Where have you been?” Charlie asked, as though she were confronting a wayward teenager sneaking in after curfew.

  “Just taking care of a few loose ends,” Bea answered, like it was the most normal thing in the world for an old blind woman to be out on her own in a not-so-safe foreign city overnight. “So where’s the baby? Can we see him?”

  “How do you know—”

  “Don’t ask,” her mother warned. “He’s upstairs sleeping, with his mother and his grandmother. We’ve had quite a night.”

  “As have we,” the mambo said. “You are a good woman, Madame Bea, and a lucky one.” She turned to April. “And you as well, my dear. You bon poul fè bon pitit. A good hen hatches a good chick. And with that, it is time that I say goodnight.” She placed her hands on Bea’s shoulders, the two of them breaking into a little shimmy and a laugh that echoed out into the garden, where a rooster crowed to announce the appearance of the rising sun.

  40

  Charlie held the picture frame in her hands. “What were you guys all dressed up for?” she asked Bea. “You’re in a big purple hat, Mom’s got these weird boots on. She has to be about ten in this one.” She placed the framed photo back on her mother’s mantel.

  “Probably one of our girls’ nights out,” Bea said, her ear cocked toward the front door.

  “Your grandmother used to get me to crash parties with her, down at the women’s club,” April shouted from the bedroom, where she was hastily packing a few of her things.

  Charlie continued to snoop, to get a quick peek at everything she hadn’t noticed on her first visit to the home April shared with Jim up on the mountain.

  “I will never forget the time you stood up and gave a toast at that Bar Mitzvah,” April called out. Charlie could tell her mother was trying hard to keep the conversation light, for their sakes.

  “That was before you became embarrassed by me. When you still allowed yourself to be seen in my presence,” Bea called back.

  “Well, you were pretty weird, Mom.” April appeared in the doorframe, a pair of khakis draped over one arm. “What mother tells her daughter’s best friend that she’s about to suffer an unwelcome surprise? Seriously, Charlie. It was fifth grade, career day. I thought it would be pretty cool to have Mom come in and talk about hairdressing. When it was her turn to speak, she asked for a volunteer. I thought she was going to demonstrate braiding or something. But no. She pulls out her tarot deck and does a damn reading. I thought I was going to die.”

  Bea laughed. “Oh, come on, April. It wasn’t my fault that she picked the Ten of Swords! And really, I wasn’t that bad. Remember how I used to give you Christmas in August?”

  “It’s true. You did do that.” April turned to Charlie. “Houdini, our Cocker Spaniel, had just died. Bea came up with the brilliant distraction of making it Christmas right then and there. We decorated the house, made cookies. The whole thing. It was so much fun we kept it up for years.”

  “We did that once in the jungle, don’t you remember, Mom?”

  “I do remember.” April smiled wistfully, before her face hardened at the thought of the situation at hand. She quickly retreated to the bedroom to finish her packing.

  “Are you almost done in there?” Bea called after her.

  “Just about. We still have time.” Charlie worried that April might be trying to convince herself as much as them. “It’s seven hours minimum from Les Cayes, after he battles the traffic getting through the city. And it will be even longer, with the demonstrations.”

  They had debated the wisdom of going up the mountain that day. Charlie’s mother was certain that Jim wouldn’t have started heading back to Farming for Freedom until daybreak at the earliest, even if he did catch wind of what they’d been up to i
n Port-au-Prince. The roads, she told them, were terrible. And there was no way Jim was going to put himself in danger by leaving while it was still dark. As angry as he might be, he was not that brave a man. So they agreed to leave the hotel as soon as possible, to get out of the city before the roads became jammed with protestors, and in plenty of time to get in and out of the house on the hill before Jim’s return. Dissuading Bea from accompanying them was not an option. She insisted on at least setting foot in the place her daughter had lived for so many years.

  Charlie ran her fingers over the familiar surface of a little carved jaguar that used to sit on their kitchen counter in the jungle. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Bea fidgeting nervously in her chair by the door.

  “I just need to find a couple of things,” April shouted from the bedroom. “Charlie? Quick, can you come in here and help me for a second?”

  Charlie’s eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw the bundles of cash strewn across the quilted bedspread.

  “What,” her mother said, “you think I’m about to leave it all for him? Maybe it’s dirty money now, but that doesn’t mean it needs to stay that way. Just think of all the good we can do with this, Charlie.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “Help me, will you? I need to get up there on that shelf.” April dragged out a small ladder that had been leaning against the wall inside the closet. Charlie opened it wide and held tight as her mother climbed to the top.

  “Careful,” she warned.

  “I know there’s something up here,” her mother said as she rifled through a couple of boxes.

  “What are you looking for? Shouldn’t we be going already?”

  “I’m hurrying.”

  “What’s so important?”

  “I need proof.”

  “Proof?”

  “Evidence. Of where the money comes from. Jim is not going to get away with this.”

  The ladder wobbled as April reached to an even higher shelf. Charlie tightened her grip.

  “Aha! Got it.”

  Suddenly there was the sound of a deep voice in the other room. They both froze.

  “Hello, Jim,” they heard Bea say loudly as their eyes locked onto each other’s.

  “What’s that, JIM?” Bea asked, turning up the volume even more. “Speak up. My hearing’s not so good these days.”

  “I said, long time no see,” Jim boomed. Charlie felt sick at the familiar tone, the fake niceness that coated his words like a boxer’s robe about to be tossed off for the fight.

  “Likewise, Jim, likewise.”

  April silently lowered herself down the rungs one by one, carefully folding the document she’d managed to retrieve and sliding it into her pocket. She turned to Charlie with a shaky index finger held across her lips, and began to furiously stuff the cash from the bed into her bra and under the waistband of her pants, motioning for Charlie to do the same.

  “Did you have a nice trip, Jim?” Bea yelled.

  God bless Bibi. Charlie’s heart pounded against her chest. Smart woman, stalling for time.

  “I did, I did,” he shouted back. Charlie could sense the explosion just seconds away.

  “That’s nice.”

  “Uh-huh,” Jim answered, sounding distracted.

  “Fruitful?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he answered, quieter this time.

  Charlie turned to her mother at the sound of his boots approaching the bedroom. April kicked the last bundle of money under the bed just as her husband’s wiry frame filled the doorway.

  Jim’s eyes darted around the room, taking inventory. “So what’s going on in here?” he said when his focus finally landed on April. “You planning a trip or something?” A tight-lipped smile snaked across his face.

  Charlie had seen that smile before. She’d witnessed it plenty of times, the way he’d try to assert his control over a situation by pretending to be all nice, expecting everyone to bow down to his power, or else.

  “I’m leaving, Jim,” April said quietly.

  Charlie noticed a flash of surprise in his eyes. “Really? You think that’s what you’re gonna do? Run off for a few days with these two?” Jim looked almost amused. Charlie knew better.

  “I’m not just going for a few days.”

  Her stepfather took out a handkerchief and slowly wiped it across his sweaty face. “Now, let’s not be rash, April. I know it must be a shock to come across her again.” He thrust his chin toward Charlie. “And your mom. Of course it’s got you a little worked up.”

  “I am not ‘a little worked up’, Jim.” Charlie’s mother grabbed her bag from the bed and slung the strap over her shoulder.

  Jim had the look of a rat about to be trapped into a corner. Again his eyes scanned the room.

  “Look,” he said, “why don’t we just sit down and have a talk about all this?” He reached for the strap.

  April pulled back. “I’m going.”

  Charlie saw his shoulders stiffen as she followed her mother past Jim, through the doorway that led back into the front room. She could feel the clock ticking down.

  “You can’t leave, April,” he said, his volume rising. “We both know that. God put us on this earth to do his work as a team. You turn against me, you’re turning against Him.”

  April spun around to face him. “His work? You call this His work? If that’s what you think, then you should go back and actually read that Bible you’re always waving around like a weapon, using it to make yourself look like a big man who should be treated as a god himself. Well, you know what? You’re not a big man—you’re just a bad one. Back home, you’d be in prison by now. And with some luck, that’s exactly what will happen here as well.”

  Jim was shaking his head violently back and forth, as though the gesture could erase her words. “Think about all those people you’re gonna hurt, how many lives you’re gonna destroy, April. This is something bigger than us. It’s not about Bea, or Charity, or even me—”

  “When has it ever not been about you?” April turned to lift Bea out of her chair, and started with her toward the front door, Jim close behind.

  Charlie saw Jim’s face turn purple. He moved to block the door.

  “You’re a selfish woman, April. Just like your damn daughter. The two of you,” he hissed. “Sticking your goddamn noses in my business. Do you know how much trouble you’ve already caused me, with my associates? Do you?” he yelled.

  “Get the hell out of my way,” April said, trying to push past him. In an instant, Jim had her upper arm gripped in his clutch. She struggled to pull away, but Jim held fast.

  “Get your hands off of her!” Bea yelled, waving her arms in Jim’s direction.

  Jim shoved April aside, bringing Bea down with her. Charlie leaped in to catch her grandmother, but was too late. The old woman’s face collided with a thud against the corner of a small stone table.

  “I’m okay,” Bea insisted, struggling to get up from the floor. But from the look of the mark spreading under her eye like red wine on a tablecloth, Charlie knew she was not.

  Jim took a step back as April and Charlie helped Bea up. April jammed the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder and threw open the door.

  “Go ahead and leave!” Charlie heard him shout, after they were already twenty feet down the path. “See if I care.”

  The three women rushed toward their SUV as the door slammed behind them. Charlie fumbled to open the car, but froze, her heart stopping when she saw what Jim had done. The car was leaning toward her at an odd angle, resting on two flat tires, their metal rims grazing the earth below.

  “Shit, shit, shit!” She kicked at the dirt.

  “Oh no,” her mother moaned.

  “What’s happening?” Bea asked, her voice weak and trembling.

  A sudden movement over Bea’s shoulder kept Charlie from answering. April spun around as Charlie jumped in to shield her grandmother.

  The guard, Eddy, stood silently by the side of the house, the
blinding sun bouncing off the lenses of his dark glasses, his rifle by his side.

  “Here,” he said in a loud whisper, before tossing something small and shiny to Charlie’s mother.

  She held up a pair of keys.

  Eddy pointed his chin toward the canary yellow truck parked behind the crippled SUV. “Quick, Madame April,” he urged. “Now go.” And then he disappeared.

  41

  Six weeks later

  Even with her aching back and throbbing knees, and hands so chapped they looked like red leather, Lizbeth was as happy as a hog in mud. The soapy tiled floor was finally coming clean. Her next job would be to measure the windows for curtains.

  She could hear Senzey’s voice coming from the next room. She had to hand it to the girl. It seemed like once she got an idea in her head, there was no stopping her. Fanm Ansanm was set to open in just four days.

  At first Lizbeth had been crushed that Senzey had no interest in getting herself to Texas with the baby. April had warned them about how tough it might be, what with the new immigration restrictions and all. But Senzey didn’t seem to even want to try.

  “I am sure Texas is a very nice place,” Senzey had told her. “Luke talked so much about it. And someday I would like to see it, and would like very much for my son to see it as well. But Haiti is my home. I do not want to leave.”

  Lizbeth had felt as though she’d been kicked in the gut by a mule. She’d had the whole thing pictured in her head. Little Lukson all set up in a crib in Luke’s old room, with some new wallpaper and a thick, soft rug, maybe one of those lights that make the ceiling look like a starry night sky. And she’d imagined Senzey spending her days in the backyard painting at an easel, like a real van Gogh. Maybe even teaching some art classes down at the local community center.

  But Senzey had other ideas. Fanm Ansanm came from what she had seen Martine doing down in Jacmel. Senzey was hell-bent on doing something to help women, other mothers, to keep them from making the kind of choice she’d been forced to make. And the only way to do that, she said, was to teach them skills that would allow them to earn their own money. Lizbeth loved the name she chose. Fanm Ansanm. Women Together.