Dear Lord—let it not be him!
Her mom, Grace, who still worked for Derek Le Roux had told her that Raymond had once again met the harsh hand of the law. But she’d never in her wildest dreams thought he’d end up here as one of her inmates.
Mina looked out over the dotted figures. She couldn’t make out faces, but one in particular glowed like a nitro stick in the pitch dark. She knew it was him, even from this distance. The way he walked, stood … fuck!
Perhaps it was a different Raymond Le Roux and not the boy who’d broken her heart and left her with a child to raise on her own. Well, to be fair, she’d never told him of … oh, dear God. Mina didn’t bother to spend any more time wondering.
She spun around on her heels and ran toward the stables.
Her world began to spin and her breath froze in her lungs.
After Raymond had shamed her in front of his friends all those years ago, she’d tried to understand, tried to catch a moment alone with him to ask him why? Why had he called her those names, rejected her, when only days earlier he’d loved her so thoroughly?
He’d been in a bad fight the day he’d broken up with her, and she’d suspected it was his cricket team laying down the laws about dating a coloured girl that had pushed him in to being so cruel.
But he’d shunned her at every turn, and called her a ‘kaffirs kind’. That was the moment her heart had shattered in to a million pieces. Mina had vowed never to hand over her love, soul and loyalty to any man ever again.
Black dots clouded her vision and her legs began to cramp. Her throat constricted and her breathing shortened.
“Miss Mina, are you alright?” Becky, her house manager, ran up to Mina as she collapsed on the lawn, heaving. “I’ll fetch your inhaler.”
Becky turned and ran back in to the house.
“Find Lullu. I’ll be okay.” Mina huffed.
But Becky ignored her, shouting an order to cook in the kitchen, and returning a few moments later with her inhaler. She stood above Mina with the oddest smile on her face before landing on her knees and shaking the inhaler. The lack of oxygen must have been affecting Mina.
“Come. Open your mouth now.” Becky brought the medicated inhaler up to Mina’s lips.
“But Ma, how am I going to earn money? This isn’t fair! I don’t go anywhere near the inmates, and Ben always makes sure I’m with the hired workers in a different section of the farm,” Lullu pleaded.
While Lullu always kept well clear of the camp, as was the rules, she did earn her pocket money by helping out with the abalone farming. She was always supervised and safe. But with things the way they were now, Mina did not want to take any chances.
For once, she wished she’d sent her daughter to a boarding school and not the local schoolhouse in town. The abalone nursery would be the one place she’d run in to her father.
“It’s just for a while, Lullu, please. I have my reasons and I need you to trust me.” Mina shook her inhaler and sucked in a puff of Ventolin. She felt a second asthmatic attack come on. She’d not had an attack in months. The medication eased the spasming tissue of her lungs and the action helped calm the crippling anxiety gripping her diaphragm.
“Agh. I can’t wait till I’m eighteen.” Lullu stomped her left foot, spun around, and stormed out of the kitchen.
At thirteen, she was proving to be a force of nature, Mina shuddered when she thought of the years to come. Lullu was generally a well-behaved child, but she had her … father’s stubborn streak and Mina’s unwavering cheek, which made for a lethal combination.
“Don’t worry, miss. Children will never understand until the day they become parents,” her cook soothed her.
Mina nodded. How true the woman’s words were. How she had fought with her mom when Grace had discovered her and Ray were lovers. But in the end, her mother had been right, and Mina had paid a dear price.
2
Dusk spent beneath a large oak tree. He’d nipped some of his ma’s sourdough bread and cheese, and a half bottle of Riesling from the fridge. Mina spread out a blanket and placed a bowl with dried fruit in its centre. Together, they sat watching the sunset.
The dipping shades of ochre and indigo brought her soft caramel skin to life. It was all he could do not to wrap her around him like a beautiful coat.
“One day, this will be ours.” He spread his legs so that he could tuck her neatly between them and up against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned with his chin on her shoulder. The tips of her chocolate ponytail tickled his cheek.
“I can see our kids running between the vines, our parents sipping wine on the verandah while I cook up a big pot of oxtail.” She tilted her head back, alerting Ray to the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath her spaghetti-strap top.
His hands slid beneath it and up her belly until they came to rest on her plump breasts and hard nipples.
Ray jerked awake. His body shuddered as the dream reminded his muscles and skin of the sweet love he’d made to her that evening. Sadly, the sensations melted away leaving him empty, alone, and desperately craving oblivion.
Regret stroked his twisted heart, and sweat soaked his pyjamas. Every muscle twitched anxiously; his gut clenched and twisted. All he wanted was a hit.
No! The folds of his arms and the areas between his toes ached for him to plunge a needle deep into them and sooth the yearning.
No! I am safe. I am stronger than my need! I am in control.
He swung his legs off the bed and concentrated on the cool concrete touching the soles of his feet. With shaking fingers, he pinched his earlobes then his cheeks—a distraction technique taught to them at rehab.
Slowly and with purpose, he inhaled, held his breath for the count of five, then exhaled. He repeated this while concentrating on the coolness seeping up from the floor and into his feet and legs. Eventually, the pain let go of his extremities and allowed him more movement.
What he needed was to run, but that was off-limits in the middle of the night.
He’d have to compromise.
Removing his drenched shirt, Raymond dropped to the floor and began with push-ups until his arms burned and his shoulders groaned. He twisted and did sit-ups. When his abdomen screamed mutiny, he once again twisted over and positioned his body in a plank. His roommate continued to snore in the bed on the opposite side of the small room, not in the least bit perturbed by Ray’s physical therapy.
His night terrors were getting easier to cope with now—the longing and hunger for a hit subdued faster, but never truly went away.
The first weeks in the court-appointed rehabilitation centre had brought him closer to hell than anything he’d ever experienced in his entire life.
The pain, the anger, the bargaining, the need … yes, that was something that would never leave him. The need, the all-consuming beast which clawed at its cage, demanding another high.
There were times he’d tried to scratch his skin from his body and others when he’d picked all the hairs of his eyebrows out with his fingers—this had landed him in a straightjacket. The hallucinations were worse. He saw his dead mother in every human he had contact with. One night, he’d fractured his left hand when he’d been convinced Benzile was attacking Mina. And then, it had stopped.
Thanks to a rather spectacular doctor and his team, Ray had made it through his personally inflicted hell and was discharged to Redemption Farm, armed with the mental tools that would help him cope. Plus the farm also offered three weekly AA meetings.
His legs and arms ached and cramped. Ray slowed down to shadow box bringing his heartrate and breathing under control.
Grabbing his towel and toiletries, he decided to hit the shower before everyone woke up. Raymond padded softly across the courtyard to the communal bathroom when movement in the distance, beyond the buildings and closer to the warehouses, caused him to stop.
It was not quite dawn but the half-moon shed enough light for him to see where he was going. Ray slipped into the
shadows as he squinted. Someone stood flashing a light out toward the ocean. A light flashed back. Ray could only see an arm, the rest of the person hid behind a retaining wall. Ray held his breath, he was a mere meter or two from whoever this was. The light flashed again. The arm was skinny, like that of a child, with a thick keloid scar wrapped around it like a snake.
A crow cawed from a nearby tree, and the figure stepped forward. Ray ducked and froze. It was probably the night guard signalling the coast guard. He’d read somewhere that breeding farms worked in conjunction with conservation West Coast to protect the sea life. But his instincts told him to stay out of sight regardless.
Ray re-entered the room as his alarm buzzed on the table beside him. It was the dawn of a new day—the first of his new life and he was ready for it.
“Hey Cyril, it’s time to get up, man,” he called to his roomie, who raised a hand and waved him away.
Showered and dressed in his work uniform, which consisted of a pair of khaki cargo pants, work boots, and a button-up shirt with a starched collar and the Redemption Farm logo embroidered on its pocket, Ray followed the inmates to the mess hall for breakfast.
“Right, you will find a list pinned to the notice board at the back of the hall. This will tell you where you’re allocated to work for the week. On the table beneath, you’ll find some maps of the farm. Take one each and use it to navigate your way around the place. This means there is no excuse not to be on time.” Mr Meintjies welcomed them with his demands. “Lunch is at twelve-thirty sharp, after which you will all remain in the hall to attend your first group therapy session,” he informed them before turning on his heel and leaving them to their meals.
Ray finished his porridge then went to check the list and collect a map. According to the allocations, his job for the week would be to shadow one of the workers in checking that the environment for growing abalone was perfect.
Collecting a printed sheet from the pile on the table below the board, Ray turned and made his way out.
Stepping into the sticky humidity from the mess-hall, Ray turned his map this way and that, he needed to go to building 2A. Before lay the ocean, behind him the dining hall and he should…
A distant whinny caused him to stop and look up. The house was farther away from where he stood compared to their compound, but he could still make out the form of a young girl sitting astride a pony at the edge of the hill which met the beach. Long blond hair twisted and fluttered in the ocean breeze as she curled her bare legs and feet around the horse’s belly.
“Le Roux! You’ve no business standing around. Move your blerrie arse or start running,” Ben bellowed from the entrance of a nearby building.
“Yes, sir.” Raymond nodded and returned to finding building 2A.
He glanced back. The girl was gone, but not the strange sense of recognition which had settled in his centre at the sight of her.
The siren for lunch sounded. It reminded Ray of a school lockdown drill. That was yonks ago. A time when he’d had dreams and … love. Ray shook the memories from his head as he removed his work gloves and placed them with his protective goggles, apron, and gumboots in their allocated area. He’d spent the first hour in a room behind a desk being educated on what abalone was, and how Redemption artificially bred the much sought-after sea snail both for sale across the globe and to reintroduce to the ocean.
He’d sat through what he’d thought was a helluva interesting lecture on how a man up in Gauteng had found a way to create real seawater. Who’d have thought it was so intricate and how important the foam formed on the surface of the ocean was to marine life? And this man had managed to replicate it to perfection.
Once the lecture was done, he’d been taken to the warehouse and ordered to clean tanks. While the task was menial, Ray had relished the numbing actions of scrubbing, rinsing, and repeating.
After pushing his socked feet into his work boots, he washed his hands and made his way out the back entrance toward the mess hall. His stomach growled. He was looking forward to some good nosh.
“Definitely not chookie grub, eh.” Cyril lifted his plate and licked. Ray smiled, stood, and grabbed his tray.
Ray scraped the few leftovers from his meal of fish fingers, mashed potatoes, and green beans into the bin before waiting in line to rinse his plate then place it in the industrial-sized dishwasher.
An elbow nudged him in his back. “I hear we gotta sit through one of those ‘share your feelings’ sessions now.”
A man Ray judged to be at least twenty years his senior with missing front teeth and sporting a grey beard, wearing a blue-knitted beanie and matching uniform said to Ray. In the old days, Ray would have held out his hand and introduced himself, but these days, he felt no need to make friends.
Ray simply nodded.
He’d taken notice when Ben had informed them of the group therapy session after lunch. He wouldn’t admit it to the other inmates, but he was looking forward to it. He needed it.
A woman with dreadlocks hanging halfway down her back and skin as dark as ebony walked into the mess hall. She made her way to the front with a confident strut and a laptop bag in her left hand.
Ray looked to his feet in shame. He owed so many so much. Mere months ago, he’d have reacted like the total asshole he’d allowed himself to become. He’d have refused to be lectured by a black person; today, he couldn’t wait to share his trials with anyone willing to listen.
“Please bring your chairs and gather around.” She placed the bag on the podium then stood before it, beckoning to them with long, lithe arms jingling with bracelets and beads. Her very English accent caused most of the men to do a double take.
Ray stood and picked up his chair as Mr. Meintjies rushed in and headed straight for the woman. A look of concern was painted across his face. Ray didn’t move but watched as they had a soft, brisk exchange before he stormed back out.
“No, you don’t understand, I cannot accommodate this inmate.” Mina tried to explain to the woman on the other end of the line.
“But Miss van der Westhuizen, according to our contract, unless the inmate has re-offended or broken the terms of his parole you are obliged to keep him on until he completes the six-month term. Has he done this?”
“No.” Mina exhaled.
“Then I don’t understand what the issue is. You have never had a problem before.”
Mina’s wedge caught in a dip on her lawn an she angrily kicked off the shoes she’d worn to match her crème culottes and baby-blue cotton blouse. She combed frustrated fingers through her blow-dried shoulder-length hair, her signet ring catching on a few strands.
Eina!
She spun around on her heel and froze. It was one of the windier spring days on the west coast, and her garden lay green and wind-strewn around her. Ben Meintjies was making his way up the hill toward her. His eyes were dark, his frown serious.
Mina didn’t want him … or anyone, for that matter, to know of her past with Raymond Le Roux.
“Fine. I’ll make it work,” she blurted and hung up.
“What’s that about?” He nodded toward the phone in her hand as he came to stand beside her.
Ben Meintjies, an ex-prison guard turned drug smuggler turned rehabilitated farm manager, was built like a brick shithouse and had the personality to match.
“Nothing. How’s the new group settling in?” Mina clasped her hands behind her back.
“Fine, but I’m left wondering why my boss didn’t give me a heads up you weren’t leading this group’s counselling session.” The black of his gaze deepened.
“I have too much on my plate at the moment.” She slipped her phone into her back pocket.
Ben cocked his head considering her for a moment. She knew he didn’t buy it. She also knew the man held a flame for her, and had held it since the day she’d hired him. She did not need him knowing about her past with Raymond Le Roux.
“The inmates? Are they grasping all the new rules, and ideas around our farming m
ethods?”
“Ja, they’re settling in okay. This bunch are a bit more chilled than our previous group. By the way, Drikus sent me a text. He’s settled in well with the conservation group in Augrabies.”
“That’s great news. It’s not easy for the older ones to change their ways,” Mina replied as they strolled toward her house.
“So, am I allowed to ask why you’re not presenting the therapy session? You’ve never missed one before.”
Mina swallowed hard. “ I told you, I’m really busy.” She didn’t look at him. “I’ve known Vestra since our university days. She’s great. You know that. I’d prefer she take over this group so I can concentrate on—other things.”
“Hey.” He grabbed her hand and turned her to face him, “What is going on? You’ve been out of sorts of late. Is it Lullu’s comp … or something else?” A shadow crossed his face.
Mina gently pulled her hand from his. Ben used any excuse to try and get close to her, and while she respected him greatly as a man and a manager, she’d never feel more or want him to believe there was hope for a relationship between them. She’d told him this many times over.
“Yeah. The vaulting tournaments are getting tougher. She’s dealing great with the stress, but me? I poop myself every time she gets on that horse’s back.” Mina half-lied.
“She’s a bright one that girl of yours, I doubt you have little to worry about. Well. I need to get back. You know where to find me if you need a shoulder.” Ben tucked his hands in his pockets, his expression hooded.
Mina smiled and watched him walk back to the inmate camp.
She’d have to control of the situation from afar. Vestra had been itching to take the lead on one of the groups, and now had been as good a time as any. There were many other things demanding Mina’s attention. The demand for abalone had increased and all the farms on the west coast were on high alert after poachers had hit three of them in as many weeks. She’d also not lied about the increase in difficulty of her daughter’s vaulting competitions either. But mainly she did not want to run into Ray.
Road to Redemption Page 2
