by H.H. Fowler
Dana slipped into a form-fitting dress and stood in the mirror to admire herself. Soon, she would have to face her husband and the mess that he had created earlier that morning. Dana and Gregory argued fervently over their daughter’s choice in men. If Asia wanted to destroy her life by getting involved with a dirty little pauper, Dana did not see why Gregory was throwing such a fit about it. Asia was nineteen, quite old enough to handle heartbreak. When that poor boy died of starvation, she would come to her senses soon enough. Asia would understand clearly that oil and water simply did not mix.
Dana certainly did not approve of Asia’s affiliation with Jorge, but she was not going to get bent out of shape about it, enlisting men to frighten the boy off the property with guns. There were other sensible ways to deal with situations like that. As Dana began to work her slender feet into a pair of Casadei heels, Miss Rose gave several raps on Dana’s bedroom door.
“Please, enter, Miss Rose,” Dana called in a gentle voice. “I need your help with this dress anyway.”
Miss Rose did as instructed, balancing a tray using the palm of her hand. Her stout figure always made Dana feel as if Miss Rose was secretly eating more food than her share.
“Oooh, Mrs. Beaufort, you lookin’ nice,” the maid gushed. Her hair was divided into eight thick plaits. She rested the tray on the dresser and placed her hands akimbo. “Goin’ somewhere special, eh?”
“Don’t I always look nice, Miss Rose?” Dana teased. “Here, zip me up.”
“Of course, yuh always lookin’ nice.” Rose stood back and admired her boss with reverence. She then gave a small sigh. “I should get me a facelift.”
Dana laughed.
“I’m serious, boss lady. No woman in her forties should be lookin’ so young.”
“Miss Rose, with all of this sweet talk, I supposed you want me to ask my husband to give you a raise.”
Miss Rose slapped her thighs in glee. “Don’t think nothin’ of it, boss lady! I’ve never been happier where I am in all of my life. Oh, before I forget…Dallis said that she would be leavin’ early for the rest of the week. Somethin’ ‘bout a huge competition comin’ up at the swim complex. She needs to practice.”
“Oh, well. I know what that means,” Dana said. “We won’t see her at all until next week some time. Dallis is very committed to that sport.”
“Yuh tellin’ me? She is a faithful soul, isn’t she not, yes?”
Dana turned to face the maid, tickled by her heavy accent and poor use of grammar. Miss Rose had been with the family since Asia was two years old. She was surrounded by persons with superb intellects. Yet, in all of that time, Dana was amazed that Miss Rose hadn’t improved the way she formulated her sentences. However, Dana would have Miss Rose to be no other way. She was a breath of fresh air to the madness in Bliss Haven.
“I was thinkin’,” Miss Rose said, concern appearing in her expression. “You should talk to your other daughter, Asia. Her upset ‘bout what happen this mornin’.”
“I heard the gunshots,” Dana said pragmatically. “If my husband doesn’t control his resentment, he could soon end up behind bars with no one to blame but himself. But of course, I will have a talk with Asia.”
“Asia loves that boy bad bad bad bad bad!” Miss Rose exclaimed. “I fear she gon’ get into plenty problems. She mad wit’ her daddy and she mad wit’ me.”
“You did the right thing, Miss Rose,” Dana consoled. “Asia hadn’t any business being in the toolshed with that boy. Don’t worry. I know how to handle my daughter.” Dana edged the bed with her buttocks. She lifted the mug of green tea to her freshly painted lips. Before taking a sip, she instructed the maid, “I’m going to take fifteen minutes to eat this food. Make sure Asia is dressed appropriately. We are going out for a drive.”
Miss Rose smacked her thighs again, tossing Dana a knowing look. “I knew yuh had a plan, boss lady!” That big grin, however, was soon replaced by two, puckered brows. “But she not gon’ listen to me.”
“Simply inform Asia that I will be downstairs, waiting for her. No classes for her today. We are going to spend the entire day together. I have two clients interested in some of my paintings, so I will spend a few hours at the gallery and then Asia and I will spend the rest of it in St. Elmo’s Valley.”
Miss Rose’s eyes widened with shock as the brazenness of Dana’s actions turned her stomach upside down. Gregory wanted Asia to stay as far away from St. Elmo’s Valley as possible. Wrong move, boss lady. Mr. Beaufort is gon’ be real mad wit’ you. Miss Rose spun her stout frame around and without adding another word, peeled out of the room as fast as her stubby legs could carry her.
Chapter Three
“Good morning, Bliss Haven,” boomed the radio announcer. “This is yours truly, Hartlin Bodie, on 91.2 FM, where we bring you nothing but the freshest, and the funkiest gospel sounds here in the Caribbean and in Miami, Florida. Here today in the studio with me, is a very astute man who has been advocating for Christians to become educated about some of the secret things going on in the Christian church…His name is Reverend Frank Dubbin and for some time now, he has been talking about something known as the ‘mystical realm of secret societies’ within the ecclesiastical arena. Reverend Dubbin, the microphone is yours. Please, explain to our listening audience what is meant by this ‘mystical realm’.”
Only out of sheer curiosity, Gregory turned up the volume. Frank Dubbin had been causing a stir among the Pentecostal Charismatics, complaining that they were too lackadaisical in their approach to contending for the faith of Jesus Christ. Their spiritual discernment had been swallowed up by their voracious lust to maintain their massive congregations and plush lifestyles.
“I want to begin by quoting Ephesians 5:11,” Dubbin began steadily. “‘And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them. For it is a shame even to speak of those things which are done of them in secret’. Let me pause here to ask a question. Who is the scripture speaking about? I believe it is for those who profess Christianity, but are refusing to let go of the ungodly systems of the world. Christians must guard against an unwholesome interest in the works of darkness. Know that you will be exposed. Our Lord said in Matthew 6:24, ‘No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other…You cannot serve God and mammon’.
“Ephesian 5:11 can also be applied to those Christians who have taken part in any of the modern-day secret society organizations and feel justified that they have done nothing wrong. This scripture is speaking to you.”
“Reverend,” Hartlin interrupted. “Are you saying that all secret societies are evil or are trying to carry out some diabolic agenda against humanity?”
“That is exactly what I’m saying. The word ‘secret’ has a strong connotation, which alludes to the fact that certain information is carefully concealed from the general public. Now, when you add cryptic teaching, secret decrees, rituals and oaths, what now has been created is a demonic cult of great manipulation and deception. As it relates to the church, many of these cults have subtly wormed their way onto God’s holy pews. More specifically, many of God’s leaders have exchanged the truth of God for a lie. Their desire for Babylon is greater than the desire for the kingdom of God. In essence, they have joined the banquet at the enemy’s table. Something is wrong with that picture…”
Gregory turned down the volume as he swung the Jeep Wrangler in the short-term parking zone of the Bliss Haven Airport. He would catch up with Frank Dubbin at another time – or maybe not. He was too controversial for Gregory’s taste. But if Gregory was honest with himself, it would reveal that Dubbin’s words had rattled his nerves beyond what he was willing to admit. As a bishop, he may have done some things he shouldn’t have done, like every Christian who had fallen short of God’s law, but Gregory had long settled within himself the issue of guilt. What he had done could be justified and he was not going to beat himself up about it.
He stepped out of the Wrangler, pus
hed two quarters in the meter’s slot and then headed toward the waiting area. He was there to pick up a young man from the United States whom he’d hired to fill the youth minister position. His search ended rather quickly, as the young man was standing outside having a very vigorous conversation with a taxi driver. Just like that his fifty cents went down the drain.
“Welcome to Bliss Haven, my friend!” Gregory interrupted. He opened his arms and pulled the new youth minister from the United States into a tight hug. “I’m pleased to finally meet you in person.”
Izaiah Cahoon absorbed the embrace as if he’d known Gregory all his life, when in fact, he’d just met Gregory over the telephone a few days ago. Through professional online enquiries, Izaiah had applied for a job opening at the St. Donovan’s Chapel, and amazingly, after just a twenty-minute interview with Gregory over the telephone, Izaiah was hired – effective immediately. He was then flown in to the small island, his expenses paid for by the church.
Gregory took Izaiah’s luggage and loaded it into the trunk of the Wrangler. In no time, the two men were on their way out of the airport. The island of Bliss Haven was only fifteen miles long by ten miles wide, but what it lacked in size, was more than made up for in its lavishly adorned natural beauty. As far as Izaiah’s eyes could see, Indian Date Palm trees lined the freshly paved asphalt. Lush, green grass decorated the backdrop, manicured into the shape of huge perfect squares. Many of the buildings were historic, but Izaiah could tell that they were carefully maintained.
He looked up, loving the crystal blue skies, which seemed to connect impeccably with the white sands and the aquamarine waters. With the ocean breeze whipping against his face, Izaiah felt as if he had come to vacation and not to do the Lord’s work. Gregory watched Izaiah through his peripheral view, thoroughly pleased with the young man’s handsome appearance. From the moment he’d seen Izaiah’s picture in his email, Gregory knew right away that Izaiah was the right man for the job. His daughter, Asia would not be able to resist him.
“You look much younger than your photo suggests,” he said to Izaiah.
Izaiah grinned, showing off the dimple in his left cheek, “I get that a lot,” he said. “But I assure you that I am twenty-five. That’s why I grew a moustache and a beard. I was tired of being mistaken for my younger brother, who is in his final year of high school.”
“I am not concerned about how young you look,” Gregory said. “I was impressed with your dossier in youth ministry. The youth department of St. Donovan’s chapel is in dire need of a facelift. The majority of the young folks on this island don’t attend church.”
“What is the population of Bliss Haven?”
“Some seven thousand, maybe. About half of the residents are under the age of thirty-five. But who really knows? With the fast-growing population of illegal immigrants, we could have about ten thousand people on this island.”
“Which is very minute compared to where I come from in Los Angeles,” Izaiah said.
“But it does not negate the fact that the island is becoming infested with a breed of uneducated heathens!”
Izaiah gave a nervous glance at Gregory’s acerbic tone. “You’re implying that I have my work cut out for me?”
“I’m not implying anything,” Gregory said. “But know this, St. Donovan has an academy of churches around the world. The plug will be pulled on those that don’t perform well. Over twenty years ago, my family and I were stationed here from Wisconsin. I was an up and coming preacher – much like you – who had landed a very prestigious position.”
Gregory continued with words that no longer pierced his heart, but was only saying it to make himself look good. “Back then, those were times when people loved God. We had a good crowd of faithful followers. However, in the last five years, this place has eroded into a mass of shameful depravity. I believe part of it stems from the infiltration of other pagan cultures coming to our shores.” He glanced at Izaiah sideways to view his reaction. “I need someone who is passionate about helping me take this island back to the times when people trusted in the TRUE God – and not in some crazy fiends they’ve worked up from their imaginations.”
Izaiah stared out at the aquamarine waters and chewed over Gregory’s words. First of all, he wondered what kind of organization would close a church down because it wasn’t performing well. Spiritual reformation was not an easy job, but if there were no places dedicated to God for His intervention, how little success they would have in rectifying the condition of the people. There was something sacred about having a church presence in the community. If Gregory was right in his assessment about the dwindling condition of the island, then they had better work hard to ensure that St. Donovan’s Chapel remained open.
“When do I get to start work?” Izaiah asked, turning his gaze back to Gregory.
“As of right now,” Gregory said, knowing his next set of words may not be received well. “Your first order of business is to spend time with my younger daughter. She has gotten herself into a bit of a jam with some boy.”
Izaiah wasn’t expecting to receive such a response, but out of fear that he may spoil Gregory’s impression of him too early in their meeting, he kept his reservations hidden for the time being. “How old is your daughter?” he asked.
“Nineteen, but she is very strong-willed.” Gregory brought the Wrangler to a stop in front of a traffic light. He felt Izaiah’s eyes piercing him with questions, but Gregory would only satisfy Izaiah’s curiosity with a challenge. “If you are able to transform my daughter’s mind, then I know for certain that you are the right man for the youth minister position. Mentalities like those of my daughter have the power to destroy an entire generation.”
Izaiah silently absorbed what was being told to him. Gradually, it became clear that he had been hired to ‘fix’ one of Gregory’s personal problems, and not those of the church. Maybe the job vacancy was just an excuse to get him to Bliss Haven. The excitement of coming to the island suddenly abandoned Izaiah.
“This organization,” he said, clearing his throat. “What was the grace period given?”
“For what?”
“You mentioned that the organization is considering ‘pulling the plug’ on the church in Bliss Haven.”
“Oh, that.” The traffic light turned green. Gregory eased his foot from the brake and moved the jeep forward. “You never know…it could be three months or three years. Don’t worry, if you are half of who your dossier says you are, I am confident you will be able to get my daughter to warm up to you.”
Again, Izaiah grew silent. He did not feel like a humble servant of the Lord, instead he felt like a male escort, hired to deceive some poor little girl. All because her father didn’t see eye to eye on the way his daughter chose to live her life. But of course, he would not make mention of it. Izaiah had a tendency to please people more than he pleased himself. He drew in his breath and gave Gregory a guarded look, who returned Izaiah’s gaze with a small smirk.
The remainder of the five-minute drive to the Beaufort Estate was completed in conversation about Izaiah’s reasons for his unmarried status.
But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out.
– 1 Timothy 6:6-7
Chapter Four
The influx of illegal immigrants had long been a problem for certain areas of Bliss Haven, in particular, St. George’s Close and St. Elmo’s Valley. With the island surrounded by massive amounts of water, it was a challenge for the government to police its borders effectively – especially with limited manpower that was attached to the Defense Force unit. So over the last two decades, a mix of illegal ethnicities had slipped under the radar and had made Bliss Haven their home.
Though the Defense Force executed raids three times a year, the financial drawbacks were devastating. The capture, retention and repatriation of illegal immigrants had cost the government close to three million dollars in annual expenses. The raids b
ecame less and less frequent while the illegal population continued to expand, contributing to the lack experienced in parishes such as St. George’s Close and St. Elmo’s Valley. It was also the reason for poor education and training skills, which resulted in residents with inadequate employment opportunities and low competencies.
The majority of the people living in St. Elmo’s Valley either made their living through agriculture and fishing, or crafted items from natural resources to sell to tourists. Jorge and his friend, Anwar, had formed a partnership, making and selling jewelry to straw market vendors near the airport area. Their jewelry was molded from the conch pearl. Jorge was the artisan and Anwar was the sea diver. Their collaboration had produced dozens of breathtaking pieces, but the straw market vendors were only willing to pay chicken feed for all of their hard work.
“One day soon, man, I’m gonna get up out of this hell hole,” Jorge spat out of the silence. He and Anwar sat side by side on the rock’s edge, swishing their feet in the marine waters. “But first I will marry Asia and take her to the United States – far away from her crazy father.”
Anwar sniggered at the foolish dreams of his friend. “You keep playing Russian roulette with your life, you’re not going anywhere with Beaufort’s daughter. You almost got yourself shot last night just for being on the compound. What were you thinking, man?”
“Asia is like a drug… I had to see her.”
“Well, trying to have sex with a girl like Asia in the toolshed is certainly not the way to do it.”
“I didn’t sneak onto her property to have sex,” Jorge said. “Asia is very philosophical and I enjoy that side of her very much.” Jorge shrugged as his mind went back to those passionate moments in the toolshed. “One thing just led to another.”
