Scarlett Bride (The Scarletts

by Brenda Barrett

  Ricky laughed. "Yeah right, but now that you actually did it and got to know her, you are not so blasé about the whole thing, are you? Come, let's go get the rest of stuff."

  "That's quite astute," Oliver muttered, walking behind Ricky.

  "You haven't slept with her, have you?" Ricky stopped in the middle of the walkway and looked at Oliver as if he was an alien life form that needed to be assessed.

  "No," Oliver spat, "not that it's any of your business."

  "If I were you, I would," Ricky said. "She is your wife. Yours. Why are you preserving her for another man to have? A friend who for all intents and purposes just wants her for sex?"

  "I didn't say that." Oliver glared at Ricky.

  "Oh, he does." Ricky smirked. "He's a man, isn't he? A normal heterosexual male and you said he was the one sexually attracted to her at first."

  "I said desire!"

  "Same thing." Ricky shrugged. "Are you going to be okay knowing that after she goes back to your friend, he'll be the one caressing her, loving her, putting his..."

  "Shut up!" Oliver stomped past Ricky. "Stop talking!"

  Ricky grinned. "Somebody had to say it. Besides, I know you are not stupid enough to think that they would just be holding hands and singing kumbaya when he comes to 'get' her."

  ****

  Oliver's phone was ringing when he went back into the house. He stubbed his toes on one of the suitcases in his haste to get it. He answered the phone in a less than chirpy manner while rubbing his toes.

  "It's me," Zack chuckled. "You sound grumpy."

  Oliver rubbed his injured toe. "That's because I just hit my foot on a very tough object. Zack, what's up, man?"

  "Nothing much," Zack said. "I came to the office early to get some stuff done. I got your message about Ricky's theory that the Spot is Southern Pottery. I'll get my detective to check it out."

  "I wanted to check it out," Oliver said. "I want to meet him. It is a little kernel of desire that can't be quenched."

  "And nothing's wrong with that," Zack said, "however, we don't have a meeting time and I am sure you don't want to go there all day and sit and wait. Do you?"

  "No." Oliver hopped to the settee and sank down into its folds. "I never thought of that."

  "Well, I'll have my guy there," Zack said, "so no need to worry."

  "I am still going to Montego Bay," Oliver grumbled. "I want to meet Noah."

  "Ah," Zack cleared his throat, "you better call him first and arrange it. He's a weird guy when it comes to intruding on his time."

  "Oh," Oliver sighed, "sounds unfriendly."

  "No, he's not actually," Zack assured him quickly. "He's a loner pretty much. And he lives in an exclusive community, where you can't just drive in."

  "Okay," Oliver muttered, "he is using up his inheritance then?"

  "No," Zack guffawed, "His stepfather, his mother's second husband, was one of the super rich crowd. The inheritance was probably chump change for Noah; his stepfather left him and his mom some of his wealth."

  "Wow. I feel intimidated already," Oliver said, glancing at his reddened toe.

  "No, don't be. Noah is an unassuming man. He has no airs and he is very humble. It's amazing if you ask me. By the way, I am working on the immigration process for Ashaki."

  "Thanks," Oliver said, the grumpiness back in his voice when he remembered what Ricky just said about David claiming Ashaki. He had been fuming then. No wonder he stubbed his toe in the hallway.

  "How is she?" Zack prompted after a while.

  "Good."

  Oliver went on to tell him that she was in school and what she was up to.

  Zack listened, gave him Noah's number when he asked for it, and then they said their goodbyes.

  He sat on the settee with the phone clutched to his chest. He was not going to let the conversation with Ricky spoil his day. He was going to call his brother.

  He dialed the number and it was answered after two rings. "Noah Scarlett."

  "Hello," Oliver said; he couldn't quite keep the smile out of his voice. "I am Oliver Scarlett. I am..."

  "My brother, the doctor," Noah finished the sentence, "the only one I haven't met so far. The one who was in the Congo doing missionary work."

  "Yes, that's right." Oliver sat up straighter on the settee. "I was thinking of coming by your neck of the woods to meet you."

  "Sure," Noah said brightly. "I'd love to meet you. When are you thinking of coming?"

  "In a month or so," Oliver said. "I heard you are still recovering from heart surgery."

  "Yes," Noah cleared his throat. "My prognosis is quite positive. Say, Oliver, do you have a specialty?"

  "No," Oliver said, "that would require a couple more years of study. My mom wanted me to go off and do good in Africa before spending any more time in school."

  "And you did it?" Noah asked in awe.

  "Yes." Oliver sighed. "I am an obedient son. That and the fact that she promised to keep out of my business for the most part, after I did her bidding."

  Noah laughed. "I can understand that. When you come here I want to pick your brain about something."

  "Sure," Oliver said, warming to Noah already. "But you can call me at anytime on this number, you know, pick my brain whenever you feel like it."

  Noah sounded choked up when he answered. "Thank you."

  After Oliver hung up the phone from his brother, he concluded that the day could be salvaged after all, after Ricky's assertions.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mount Faith was quite unlike the other Jamaican communities she had visited so far, Ashaki thought idly as she walked along the main road of the village. She thought of it as a village. Kind of like back home except Mount Faith was very different from home. It was irrationally cool, even in the summer.

  Most people wore regular short sleeves; she lived in one of the designer cardigans that Francine had given her as a gift. Oliver had delivered it just two weeks ago, but he didn't even stay.

  Ashaki rubbed her hands across her arms again. His visit and Francine's gift had been a godsend, because she did not have any clothes for cooler weather and she was not going to ask him for any more help than he was giving.

  She heard from fellow students how extremely expensive the university fees were. She was chafing from being Oliver's charity case.

  She stopped walking and sat on a stone wall in the middle of the town area, which was all but deserted. She liked walking all the way from the university to the town area. It was good exercise and it gave her time to think. Her courses this summer semester were mainly introduction courses, which she found quite easy.

  She was partially enjoying her time at school. She even met some fellow African students and joined the African club. They were probably the only club that had a full membership in the summer. Most persons could not afford to go back home for a few short months, hence most of them lived on campus. She had new friends from Ghana and Nigeria and South Africa and Swaziland.

  Her closest friend, though, was Grace Goodie, a Jamaican girl who was majoring in French with a minor in journalism. She lived beside Ashaki and they met the very first evening when Ashaki had succumbed to a bout of crying. It had been the very first time that she had been completely alone.

  The strange feeling had driven her to go exploring the campus on her own.

  Grace had been about to go into her apartment and she had stopped and looked at Ashaki's wet eyes and asked, "Freshman?"

  "Yes," Ashaki had replied.

  "And foreigner?" Grace's eyes lit up. "Girl, you'll love it up here. Let me go put down my stuff and show you the lay of the land."

  Grace really knew the lay of the land, as she called it. She was especially fond of leaving the campus and walking into the township. Her absence this evening was because the summer session was rolling to an end, and her boyfriend was back for the new school year.

  So Ashaki walked alone. She got up and passed the dilapidated gate of what was once a great house. She a
lways found the place fascinating. It looked like it had a colorful past.

  She had never gone this far before, even with Grace. Mount Faith was pretty far up into the hills. She would probably need to take a taxi to get back, but curiosity drove her on. There were quite a few old houses and then a Methodist church with a collection of graves in the front and a mango tree, which was loaded with fruit.

  Some youngsters were swinging on the lower limbs.

  She smiled despite herself. One little girl even had her hair covered with the yellow mango pulp. Ashaki waved to her and she waved back.

  And then she realized she was descending the hill into what was more like a farming community. To the left of her was another church. Jamaicans loved their churches.

  This one she wasn't sure what it was; the other one was Mount Faith Methodist, this one was St. Paul's Old Testament Church, founded 1904.

  She should start counting churches, she thought, heading all the way down to the hill and then deciding to circle back up. It was getting late; she was probably twenty minutes from the town. She glanced at her watch. It was just gone five. The sun didn't set until six thirty-ish. She had time but she wasn't going to be stupid about it.

  To walk up the hill was not as smooth going as coming down and she had to stop twice. She didn't notice how steep the hill was while she was descending it.

  She stopped at the gate of the St. Paul's Old Testament church and decided to take a rest on the steps of the church. The steps were shiny and inviting. The place was obviously well looked after, with neat hedges and a very pristine lawn. It looked like whoever did it measured the blades of grass to the last inch. It was carpet-like.

  When she sat on the steps she shrugged off her cardigan. The cure for Mount Faith's weather was exercise, obviously.

  She actually felt warm. She leaned her head on the door of the church and stared at the black sign by the gate. The S in st was capitalized, and so were the p, the o and the t.

  She stared at it with a niggling sense of unease until she realized why that piece of information was so significant. It spelt SPOT.

  "Ha," she laughed out loud.

  She took out her phone to call Oliver to jokingly tell him that she had found the SPOT.

  There was no cell signal. She made a face at the phone and got up. Tomorrow was her last exam, then she would go to Montego Bay with Oliver. They would find the real Spot then.

  ****

  Oliver was waiting for her at the apartment when she got there after her exam. He was casually leaning on the car. He looked good enough to hug and pull close and love forever but of course she resisted. Oliver was determined to keep her at arms’ length.

  He was dressed semi-formally in white shirt and jeans, and his hair was longer than it had been a few short weeks ago.

  "Are you ready for an adventure?" He looked her over while he was asking, as if he needed to ensure that she was all there.

  "Yes!" Ashaki winked at him.

  He winked back. She almost jumped for joy at that playful gesture. Any softening of his stance to her was reason to celebrate. She immediately went into her happy zone.

  "So how was your exam?" he asked as soon as she got in the car.

  "Fine. Easy." Ashaki smiled. "I finished a long time before the time was up and was daydreaming about this trip."

  Oliver smiled. "I thought you would be loving it up here and would loathe to leave."

  "Nah." Ashaki shook her head. "I missed you. And look at that, I haven't changed into a giddy teenager who ran wild at the thought of living alone."

  "Give it time." Oliver grinned. "The world won't understand what has been unleashed on it."

  "Yes, time." Ashaki laughed. "Like one year and two months. Then there would be no need to call me a teenager."

  "Well, touche." Oliver put his hand over hers and then pulled it back. "We should do something special for your nineteenth birthday"

  "I have never celebrated my birthday before," Ashaki said wistfully. "Well, not that I can remember. My dad said we did when we lived in Kinshasa but I was too young to remember."

  "So this year should be spectacular." Oliver glanced at her. "I'll have to think about a gift for you that is outstanding."

  Ashaki nodded. "I think what I most want is peace in the Congo and Sudan. For my African brothers and sisters to live without strife."

  Oliver sighed. "I'd love that too, but unfortunately your birthday is just two weeks away and I am a mere mortal. I was just thinking of something achievable."

  "Well my other thing is..." She glanced at him and then outside. "You will probably say no too."

  "Is it humanly possible?" Oliver asked gently.

  "Yes." Ashaki changed the subject. "So tell me about your nineteenth birthday."

  Oliver looked as if he wanted to probe more into her birthday wishes but he eventually answered her question after a pointed silence.

  "I was at university, living in the dorm. My friends coated me with a five pound bag of flour and then threw water on me."

  "That's crazy!" Ashaki nudged him. "You are joking!"

  "No," Oliver grinned, "it was a tradition for all the birthday people on our floor. To make matters worse, I had my hair long and in plaits. It took me two weeks to get all the little specks of flour out."

  "It sounds barbaric!"

  Oliver laughed and hit the steering wheel. "Maybe when you were the one getting it but it was always fun to look forward to your tormentors’ birthdays. It was fun for us at that age. Of course now, I wouldn't think of doing that."

  "Because you are an adult," Ashaki smirked, "and years older than I am and a doctor."

  "Well..." Oliver smiled, "those are all facts. I did get the childish stuff out of my blood."

  "You are just eight years older than I am, not ancient," Ashaki muttered, "and I wouldn't think of throwing flour on somebody else and finding it funny. First of all, flour is food—you can feed five families with that much flour--and secondly, it's just plain rude to coat somebody in it and find it funny. It's a malicious tradition."

  "You are such a humorless teenager," Oliver said playfully.

  Ashaki smiled. "You are really making me hate being an eighteen year old, Oliver."

  Oliver looked at her briefly. "Maybe I'll lighten up some."

  "That would be a miracle," Ashaki grunted.

  "So, tell me everything that you haven't told me over the phone while you were up here." Oliver changed the subject.

  Ashaki shrugged. "I told you everything. Wait, except for the fact that I found this place called St. Paul's Old Testament Church. It was a little below the town. I walked there alone one evening."

  "You did?" Oliver glanced at her and then back at the road. "Alone?"

  "Yes. No lectures, please." Ashaki raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to tell me to be careful, yada-yada-yada?"

  "No, brat." Oliver chuckled. "No, I won't. Why would I lecture a self-proclaimed woman of war from the depths of the Congo jungle? What's so significant about St Paul's Old Testament?"

  "The mnemonics, S.P.O.T." Ashaki clipped her fingers. "Want us to drive by there?"

  "Maybe when we get back," Oliver said. "S.P.O.T can be anywhere if we go searching for it. Why would it be in the hills of Mount Faith? At a church?"

  "By the same token," Ashaki said saucily, "why would it be at a pottery place just because of some random photo?"

  "You have a point," Oliver said solemnly. "We will look into your find when we get back."

  He glanced at her and smiled. She smiled back, thinking how much she loved him.

  Nothing had changed. Meeting other people hadn't changed her mind about Oliver. He was cemented in her mind as the one for her.

  It was not going to change. Then she remembered Nellie, her former nemesis. Oliver hadn't mentioned her in the past couple of weeks. But why would he? He must know that she practically growled at the thought of her.

  "How is Nellie?" she asked unable to stop the frown between he
r brow.

  Oliver chuckled. "She got her real estate agent to hound me. And I think it's working. I am warming to the idea of living in Junction. It's quite close to Reuben and work."

  "And Nellie," Ashaki sighed.

  Oliver chuckled. "It's still nice to think that you are jealous of Nellie."

  Ashaki rolled her eyes and subsided in her seat. It was better if she changed the subject, which wasn't hard to do. There were so many interesting things to comment on, on the way.

  ****

  One rest stop, a scenic coastal view and a hot debate about the merits of varying African foods and how they stocked up against Jamaican foods later, they reached Montego Bay, an intriguing town that had several tourists milling around.

  It was four o'clock and they checked into one of the large hotels on what Oliver told her was the Hip Strip. They had separate but adjoining rooms. She showered quickly after being shown into her room. She wanted to go exploring Montego Bay with Oliver. He had said he would come by in half an hour, and he knocked on her door promptly. She had just slipped on one of the summery cotton dresses that Francine had sent her.

  She chose yellow because she was feeling happy inside. Montego Bay made her happy. Spending time with Oliver made her ecstatic.

  She grasped his hand when she opened the door and pressed her side into his. This is where she belonged. And she was happy being here.

  It was surprising to her that he didn't draw back from her or keep his usual polite distance. He looked into her eyes and smiled. Not a word was said between them.

  Progress. Her heart leapt in gladness. Now if only Oliver could get over his reluctance to have her close.

  His phone rang and he had to stop to answer it.

  "Hey Zack," he said. "Yes, I am in Montego Bay. Yep. Cool."

  Oliver hung up after a while and then looked at her. "The detective is at the place but no sign of Peter yet. I can't believe I am feeling nervous."

  They headed through the lobby and into the balmy evening. This was how she was used to having her temperature, not the coldness of Mount Faith.