Road to Redemption

by Michelle Dalton

  The storm hit soon after dusk. A gale hammered its angry fists against the doors and windows of Mina’s home. It’d drifted over them yesterday, only to return with more ferocity this evening.

  “Do you think it will blow the roof off? It’s made of straw mom, not tin like the warehouses.” Lullu snuggled closer beneath her arm where they sat snug under the bedcovers in Mina’s room.

  “No. The guys who laid the thatch made sure it was meant for stormy Cape weather. We’ll be okay.”

  “Ah, what if Boesman isn’t? I need to go and fetch him, Mom. I’m sure he can fit in the kitchen.” Lullu made to jump out of bed, but Mina squeezed her arm tighter around her daughter.

  “Boesman is fine. His stables are made for this weather too, and you will mind never to try and fit that horse in my kitchen.” Mina bit back her grin. Ai, this girl and her horse.

  “But I don’t think he knows that.” Lullu tried to wriggle out from her mother’s grip.

  “He’s survived many storms here, my love. Now, come lay down. I need to finish this work on my laptop, and you need to go to sleep. Tomorrow, you have your biology test and training. Nationals are around the corner.” Mina tucked her daughter beneath the warm covers. The girl, almost as tall as her, curled into a ball and shut her eyes.

  Mina leaned against the bedhead, not removing her gaze from the most amazing gift life had given her.

  Memories of the day she was born rushed back.

  “Push, mama,” the midwife encouraged her.

  “Come, bokkie. The baby’s crowning; you’re almost there.” Her mom gripped her knee as she peered down to where the midwife positioned her hands over the crowning head of the baby, gently escorting the small life in to the world.

  “I can’t … arrrgh …”

  Spasms ripped across her belly and dug into her back. Her nether regions ached. She wanted to die, to scream, to curse the bastard who’d had the audacity to plant his seed in her belly! And then …

  “Agh here she is now,” the midwife called out as all the pain fled her limbs and her legs collapsed showing a blue, screaming, icky, white-smeared little ball of life in the woman’s hands. She quickly wiped the screeching bundle down, and placed a bulbous instrument near the babies mouth and nose to suction any fluid or other ick which may be blocking her babies airways. Once satisfied, she laid the baby on Mina’s chest.

  “A girl.” Mina cooed as the tiniest rose budded lips smacked together at the scent of her breast. Ma reached down and guided the small head to her nipple and Lullu took to it without hesitation. The midwife smiled then busied herself with the umbilical cord.

  “Ja. A beautiful daughter. Look at that. She’s latched without issue.”

  It was love at first sight. A feeling so strong, stronger than what she’d felt for anyone else, flooded her entire being, and then she knew. Whatever she did in her life from here on out was for this precious bundle. Nothing was about her anymore.

  She looked up to her mom. “I understand now.”

  It hadn’t been easy, moving off the farm and into the suburb of Bo Kaap. Nor had finishing high school as a single, teen mom in a community mostly made up of Muslims and Christian. The sleepless nights and early mornings had eaten at her soul. Thank God for Aunty Stiena, their next door neighbour, who had volunteered her time to watch baby Lullu while Mina went back to school.

  Mina had survived all the finger-pointing and vile gossips. But it had made her strong. It had thickened her skin, which was just what she’d needed when going into business, opening a rehabilitation centre, and needing to stave off the pitchfork hungry uppity residents of Tatensrope.

  Mina sighed. The Ray of her past deserved to know of their beautiful creature, but the Ray of now? Mina reached for the folded letter on her bedside table. It had burned a whole in her pant pockets.

  Well, she supposed it was time to pull up her big girl undies and just get to it.

  With trembling fingers, Mina unfolded the page. His handwriting was as beautiful as it had always been. She’d never met a person since who wrote so beautifully.

  Raw grief, bitterness and mistrust,

  Shackled me to the past I lost

  It polluted my soul,

  Thought it’d leave us whole

  Facing years of wrongs,

  This fool, whose pride stood strong

  Deserves no gifts, no special treats,

  No chance to reconcile or tell

  My vain hope, eternal perhaps,

  Might damn me to hell

  But within fractured lines,

  A story with no more lies

  Wipe away the tears,

  The shrapnel and the fears,

  No sympathy do I seek,

  Nor empathy, but only to speak.

  Mina blinked several times to clear her vision. All she could do was stare at the pages. It’d been years since he’d written to her. She’d loved the words he’d strung out on paper when they’d been young. Wiping the back of her cotton three-quarter pyjama sleeve across her face, she straightened and continued to read.

  I have to forgive myself for what I did to you. We were so young, so in love … I still am.

  Mina dropped her hands to her lap and swallowed. He still loved her …

  I’d rather be here now on my knees, my nose in the dirt, begging your forgiveness than visiting your grave, because, baby, that’s where they would have put you if they’d had their way.

  Mina dashed away the tears which blurred her vision as she read Ray’s confession. She heard the voice of a young, scared boy between every comma and period. She saw the terror in a pair of blue eyes staring back at her that day in the storeroom when he’d called her that abominable name. Were these words enough to earn her forgiveness? She wasn’t sure, but they were a start.

  Mina closed her eyes. Still holding the letter in her hands, she leaned her head back.

  A ‘what if’ slowly formed in the back of her mind. A vision of her and Ray on Nooitgedacht, the Le Roux wine farm. In her arms, their baby. On his face, unencumbered joy.

  “I love you, baby.” He cupped her cheek as he leaned over and placed a soft kiss on baby Lullu’s head …

  9

  A loud banging on the back door wrenched Mina from her dreams.

  Who in the seven fucks was that, and in a storm no less!

  She’d nodded off where she sat, Ray’s letter still in her hands.

  Lullu was fast asleep, it seemed. Carefully, Mina slipped out from beneath the covers, placed the letter in the drawer of her bedside table, and grabbed her nightgown draped across the end of her bed. Not wasting time to slide her feet into her slippers, she trotted to the kitchen barefoot.

  “What the blerrie hell …?” She pulled open the door to find a drenched, pale, Klein Piet with a jacket pulled over his head for protection against the whipping rain.

  “Miss. It’s the roof of the mess and warehouse three. The wind. Ma said I must let you know. Baas Ben has the men protecting the abalone babies and that you mustn’t—”

  “Get your arse inside. Go get a towel from the passage cupboard, then come sit down here in the kitchen and make a cup of coffee.”

  “Where you going, miss?” the boy asked.

  “On second thought, go fetch Becky. I’ll need her to watch Lullu.”

  Mina grabbed her polymer garden shoes and headed out toward her warehouses. The wind sprinted up off the ocean bringing with it sand and garden debris. Lightning lit up the sky and rain lashed at her face and soaked her clothes.

  She’d be dammed if she lost any more stock. Not that she had control over the weather, but God and his angels should have known better than to threaten her livelihood.

  Stumbling into the damaged warehouse, Mina wiped soaked tendrils of hair from her face and scanned the area.

  “What the f—” Ben stomped toward her. “We have everything under control, Mina. You shouldn’t be out in this.” He placed his balled fists on his hips. Around him, inmates and empl
oyees scurried as they shifted and pulled protective tarps across the baths filled with baby sea snails.

  “Don’t think to tell me what to do, Ben Meintjies! How bad’s the mess?”

  His lips pulled tight as he heaved a sigh. “It’s totalled. We’ll need a new roof and to check all electrical equipment and sockets. Thank fuck you never tiled and left only concrete as flooring. Can you keep an eye? I need to go check the other warehouses for damage.” Ben turned and headed out in to the angry night.

  Mina nodded, then turned her attention to what was going on around her. Standing on the far side of the room, clad in only a T-shirt and shorts, hard at work saving her stock, stood Ray. Mina walked closer, forgetting about the chaos as she focused on the way his limbs moved and his muscles flexed. For a man who’d abused his body for more than a decade with drugs and alcohol, it looked as beautiful as it had when they were lovers.

  Ray grabbed a nylon rope and tied it around a pylon, stretching a tarp over the pool. The rope unravelled, too slippery.

  Without thinking, Mina walked up and grabbed the corner, pulling it down.

  He glanced up, his eyes widening and his mouth opening then closing.

  “Grab it.” Mina motioned toward her hands pulling down hard on the rope. Ray nodded, then wound the rope tighter around his hand and pulled. He swung it around the pylon and began knotting it.

  “Thanks.” He nodded and made to move onto the next job when a voice echoed out across the warehouse.

  Mina turned; Becky was sprinting toward her.

  “I tried to make her stay, I swear, but she kicked me in the shin.” Her house manager lifted her trouser pants to show a blossoming bruise.

  “Who? Lullu?” Mina called out.

  “Ja. Boesman got out. She took off like a springhaas,” Becky hissed and rubbed the wounded area on her lower leg.

  Mina’s legs buckled. That bloody child, out in this storm.

  A strong hand grabbed her arm and kept her steady. Mina looked up and found Ray starring at Becky.

  “Which direction?” His voice held a stern don’t-fuck-with-me tone so unlike the injured dog who’d sat opposite her in Vestra’s office.

  “North, toward the nature reserve.” Becky pointed behind her, an odd smirk flashing across her face before it turned to a frown.

  Mina tugged free of his grip and made to go.

  “I’m coming too.” Ray followed her.

  She was about to shut him down and put him in his place, but she couldn’t do it alone. Ben was needed down here, and …

  “She’s ours,” he said simply, taking her hand in his. “We have no time to waste.”

  They made their way up to the house where Mina pulled out three waterproof windbreakers, a towel, and a pair of torches from the scullery closet.

  “We’ll go in the bakkie.” She pointed for them to retreat back into the storm.

  Tension bunched in his shoulders. Nerves twisted his gut. Mina sped down the old path, the vehicle’s lights on bright. Her chest began to ache and her breathing become painful. Damn it, she’d forgotten to grab her inhaler. Rain pelted the frantic wipers as they scoured the glass from left to right, unable to clear the windscreen.

  “Could she have gotten this far away from home?” Ray asked as he bounced around in his seat.

  “I’d hoped not. There might be one place they’d both head if Boesman ran too far from the stables.”

  Ray glanced at Mina, then back at the road ahead. He leaned forward and squinted. “Going to tell me?”

  “The old farmhouse. It’s in the direction she ran off.”

  It felt like an eternity before the bakkie’s lights landed on dilapidated stone walls and a rusted tinned roof. Mina brought the car to a skidding halt and they both jumped out, torches shining brightly, rain beating down.

  “Lullu!” they called out simultaneously.

  Mina’s head jerked toward him. Her eyes narrowed before she turned and led him through a door-less entrance as she called again, “Lullu.”

  “Mommy!” came a strained cry.

  Mina and Ray sprinted toward the far end of the old stone building. Ray’s breath caught in his throat as his torchlight fell on a petite, shivering, drenched frame and a horse standing in the corner of the dilapidated farm house.

  “Blerrie hell. I told you to stay put.” Mina sped toward the girl, wrapped the large towel around her daughter, and rubbed down her body.

  “Come. Let’s go before this storm gets worse and the roof decides to fly off as well.” Mina said.

  “I’m not leaving Boesman!” Lullu pushed her mother away and wrapped her skinny arms around the gelding’s neck

  “Lullu Marie van der Westhuizen! For fuck’s sake.” Mina stomped her foot. The horse jumped and whinnied.

  “Shh, boy. It’s okay,” Lullu calmed him.

  Ray stood frozen. “You gave her ma’s name?” He didn’t mean to say it out loud.

  Mina turned on him, and from the splintered bolts of light proffered by the angry colliding clouds above, he could see she was not impressed.

  “Why’d you kick Becky?” Mina turned back to their daughter who had taken the towel she’d used to dry her a few moments earlier and was now wiping down the horse.

  “I didn’t even see Becky. I woke up, and you were gone, then I heard Boesman and ran to help him.” Lullu raised her head indignantly.

  A sharp bolt of light cut through the dark before a thundering blast reverberated across the earth. The horse whinnied and reared. The whites of his eyes grew larger than saucers. Ray’s instinct was to pull the girls away, but Lullu barely flinched and reached out. The horse calmed and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Toe maar, Boesie; it’ll be okay. I won’t leave you.” She gave her mother a determined stare.

  Ray snapped out of his shock. Clearly, the girl would not dessert her horse, and knowing Mina, she’d fight tooth and nail to get her way.

  “Look. I reckon the old folks knew how to build. We’re safer in here until the storm passes. I also think out in this weather, the horse might hurt himself. There’s an old chair in the hallway I can break up for firewood. We can wait the worst of the weather out safely in here,” he explained.

  “I’m not sure.” Mina sighed.

  “We don’t really have a choice.” Ray nodded toward their daughter, staring suspiciously at him.

  Lullu cocked her head at the same moment her mother placed balled fists on her hips.

  “I saw you walking with Oupa the other day,” Lullu said.

  Mina glanced at her daughter, then Raymond, her lips pursing as her shoulders dropped. “You’re probably right. I have a tarp behind the seat, and matches and a candle in the cubby-hole.”

  “I’ll get that. You clear out what you can from that old fireplace. And you make sure to keep him calm.” Ray pointed a finger at the gelding before he turned and headed out into the storm.

  “Argh.”

  He spun around.

  Mina, took a step forward, and buckled over clutching her chest.

  Ray ran to er side. “Geezus, are you okay?” Ray wrapped his arms around her.

  Lullu, left the horses side and knelt beside her mother patting her pockets. “Mom, where’s your inhaler?”

  “I …” She wheezed. “… fo-got.”

  “You have asthma? Quick, Lullu. We need to get a fire going.”

  He knew just what to do.

  “One of my…er…cell mates,” he glanced to Lullu, “Suffered asthma. His inhaler was constantly stolen. So he googled these breathing exercises to help hi whenever he had an attack and no asthma pump to help him out.”

  Wind and rain howled through the large broken window at the far end of the room, but up where they’d positioned themselves around the ancient fireplace, it couldn’t quite reach them.

  Ray sat with Mina’s head on his lap and her back toward the fire for warmth. She coughed, inhaled, then coughed again.

  “Inhale, hold…good now slowly let it go,”
Ray coached her through a breathing spasm.

  “It’s easing.” She waved at Lullu.

  Ray tucked a wayward strand of hair behind Mina’s ear then poked the flames with the foot of the old chair. Lullu had found more fuel and soon their fire roared bright and warmed the large area, which Ray assumed must have once been the lounge.

  He looked over to where Lullu now sat on the tarp, her horse beside her, his head on her lap. “You have a way with him.”

  Lullu looked up sleepily and smiled. “He’s my soul mate.”

  Ray’s eyes shot toward Mina. Their gazes met, and he knew she could read his soul.

  “At least he won’t break your heart.” She pushed up from where she’d lain, then bit her lip as though she’d not meant to say that out aloud.

  Ray fought the rush of emotions as the wind beat the old walls and battered the tinned roof. Was this what redemption was? An eternity of being reminded of one’s past deeds no matter how hard you worked toward a better future?

  Something in Ray flipped—whether it was a switch, or just that he’d finally reached his fill of recrimination, he wasn’t sure, but he’d had enough.

  Standing with his shoulders straight and his hands clasped behind his back, he said, “You didn’t read my letter.”

  “I did,” she whispered harshly.

  The shred of hope Ray had kept safe in his fractured heart flickered. He shook his head and sat back down, bringing his knees up to his chest, folding his arms around them. He should have simply kept his mouth shut.

  “Too chicken shit to tell me back then?” Mina’s voice was a whisper coated in acid.

  “And you never told me of her.”

  Ray bit his tongue. He’d made his choice all those years ago. Arguing over his childish decision now wouldn’t change anything.

  “You goddamn coward!” Mina spat, then proceeded to cough and splutter. Ray stood and grabbed the empty tin he’d found in the bakkie. Holding it out the window, he collected some of the rainwater and brought it to her. “Drink.” He held the tin to her mouth.