Crickets' Serenade

by Blythe, Carolita

  “She’s a beautiful young woman,” he said. “You’ve done a wonderful job.”

  “Thank you,” I said quietly.

  “You struggle with telling her the truth each day, don’t you?” he asked.

  “Every day. And each day that I let go by, the harder it becomes.”

  “People always want to define parenthood according to whether your cells run through a child’s body. But I don’t agree with that. It’s that bond in the heart. I’ve seen family turn against family, but friend stand by friend for all time. Doesn’t that make that friend really family? I’ve known people who have had children and who have turned away from them for their own selfish reasons. Is it better to tell the child that what they believed their whole life is actually false? Some things are better left as they are. I’ve said my peace. But I suppose it’s not up to me.” He fell silent. His breathing was so pronounced now. “By the way, do you keep in touch with Henry Donovan?” he suddenly asked.

  Henry’s name had never been spoken between us. I didn’t really know how to answer the question, but when I turned toward Lewis, I saw that look of knowing on his face, and I realized he had always known.

  “I saw him in New York about six years back. He married a seamstress, a good woman. I think they have three kids. He has a good life, and he’s happy.”

  “He’s never once asked about Charlotte?”

  “No, and I always wondered if you had something to do with that?”

  “I’ve interfered with many things in my life, but never with a man acknowledging or not acknowledging his offspring. The way I see it, her biological father has never asked about her. What good can telling her anything now do? If you can answer that question, go on, tell her. If not, you might want to leave well alone.” His voice trailed off, and I mulled his words over.

  “When she was old enough to read about you and discover who you are, she came up to me one day and she said, ‘I always knew I came from greatness.’ ” I realized that deep down, despite all that had happened, I really did wish that Lewis was Charlotte’s father. Deep down, maybe I felt that if I didn’t say anything, that might be enough to make it true.

  Lewis closed his eyes and was quiet for several minutes. His chest went up and down in a calm, peaceful manner. When he opened his eyes, he looked directly at me.

  “You know, I watched you from my window one of those first nights you were at Reach. I watched you dance. You were so alive. You reminded me of a quail dove I had found in the orange grove on a warm day many years before. I took it in, and each day it rewarded me with its song. That’s what you did. As I watched you twirl around, you made me smile with your freedom and your grace. If only for a few minutes, you allowed my mind to wander away from the elections and from all the anxiety.”

  “It was fun for me … at first.”

  “I never meant to get you caught in the midst of the unhappiness. This I wanted to prevent most of all. There was something so innocent and good about you. My greatest fear was always that I had killed that something in you. You see, the thing is, the strongest passion running in me was for the office I had been elected to. I made up my mind that nothing would deter me from that singular focus. My feelings for a woman had brought great trouble to me and my family before, and I was determined to not be so adversely sidetracked again.” With some effort, he turned his body so that he was facing me.

  “All I want for you is great happiness and a life filled with all the wonders you deserve. I just pray that you might one day be able to forgive me for robbing you of that young, innocent life. When I found out you had married, my only hope was that you might have found the love I so selfishly robbed you of.”

  I hadn’t loved Greenie, but he was good and hardworking, and my life would have been stable with him. My feelings for Lewis had been deeper than they had been for any man and that just brought me heartache. Wilton was more like Greenie. There weren’t great highs or great lows in our relationship, but I figured it was just better that way.

  “My husband’s a good man, and very dependable. He cares for me very much, and I care for him.”

  Lewis nodded and allowed a satisfied smile. I remained at his side for a few minutes after he had fallen asleep. It was the most intimately we had ever spoken, and I took comfort in that. I thought of how ironic it was that the imminence of death had brought us to a place our liveliest days hadn’t. I looked at him for some time, then started out of the vestibule.

  “Souci,” he said. I turned to face him. He just looked at me for some time. And though no words came from his mouth, his eyes spoke so loudly. They told me that this would be the last time I would ever see him. They told me thanks. They told me goodbye.

  “Have a sweet life,” he finally said. His eyes closed once more, and he sank into sleep.

  I walked along the hallway and down the steps slowly. As I made my way out the front door, I saw Charlotte collecting poinciana flowers with Wilton. I just stood on the verandah’s top step watching them. Agnes Gooding walked onto the verandah and stood next to me.

  “How long has he been this way?” I asked.

  “I knew about this for the past four months, which was about four months after he had initially found out.”

  “There was a farmer who lived near us in Stepney when I was growing up. After his wife died, he came down with a chronic illness. He had a daughter who lived in Negril. She came around every now and then. My aunt asked her why she didn’t move back and help care for him in his final months. She said she had a life that she couldn’t take time out from.” I looked at Agnes. “I’m so happy Lewis has someone like you to be there for him.”

  “It’s quite selfish, really. He’s the only man I’ve ever truly loved.”

  “And he’s always loved you.”

  “Yes. He loved me. He loves me. But he’s never been in love with me,” Agnes said sadly. “We women were always falling in love with him because of his awesome presence, because of what he stood for. Then you’d find this hollowness and this anger, but it didn’t matter. You’d find yourself loving him more, in spite of it, or maybe because of it. You see, if you looked deep enough into his eyes, you would see the calm and the caring and the love, and you would believe you were the one person who would be able to release that. You’d drive yourself mad trying to release it, trying to be the one.”

  “But you were the one.”

  Agnes shook her head. “I was just deluding myself.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “Because he told me.” She smiled sadly. “It wasn’t as harsh as it may seem. I egged him into it. I wanted to marry him regardless of how he really felt. How’s that for selfish? It’s all I ever wanted, to be Mrs. Lewis Montrose, whether he was whole or not. I think he felt he owed it to me … for my years of loyalty. And finally, just after he found out he was sick, while we were still in Italy, we stood on a cliff overlooking the water, just the two of us, and I said my vows to him and he said a few words to me. Friendly, deeply gracious and grateful words. But not words of deep love. But that was good enough for me. I thought that after some time, he would wake up one day and realize I was the love of his life. But he didn’t. I had never asked him if he loved me, but three days ago, I just felt I had to. I guess I thought over time, an inkling of it might have developed in him. Well, truth is, I knew, but there was one little tiny part of me that didn’t believe. I needed to hear it from him. He was very gracious, very diplomatic about it, but his heart never belonged to me.”

  -36-

  Five days later, I was sitting on my verandah in Brown’s Town looking over an outline when I suddenly felt a chill. It was a strange feeling considering it was near ninety degrees. I looked around, but didn’t notice any disturbance to the leaves of the mango tree, or the leaves of the breadfruit tree or the blades of the grass. I thought this a little strange, but quickly returned to the work at hand. About twenty minutes later, the telephone rang. I recognized Agnes Gooding’s voice on the other end
, and I knew.

  I had seen pictures of the great procession that had followed Lewis’ father’s funeral at Kingston Parish Church in eighty-one. Lewis’ funeral, however, was held far from downtown Kingston. There were no national leaders in attendance. The streets were not filled with loving supporters. He was not buried at National Heroes Park, but near the military graveyard at Newcastle, in a plot of land overlooking the Mamee River Valley.

  It was a cool day in the mountains and the heavy mists made it difficult to see even ten feet ahead. It was dream-like and solemn. My mind was years and miles away—back at my small house in Stepney with Lewis sitting at the table, the rain falling against the corrugated zinc roof. It was difficult for me to understand that Lewis was in the brown wooden coffin that lay before us. It was as if another person was being laid to rest. The minister threw out a handful of dirt, and I was led back to the day, almost twenty years before, when my aunt was also placed into the earth. Ashes to ashes dust to dust. I cried so much then. I couldn’t seem to find the tears this day. Mrs. Moore kept wiping at her eyes with a white handkerchief. I could see the moisture on Mrs. Eldermeyer’s glasses. James Alvarez looked at the ground. It was strange seeing all these familiar faces again in the same space. The faces hung a little lower due to the passage of time. Otherwise, they were exactly as I had remembered.

  I walked away before the ceremony was over. Several yards in the distance, wild coffee beans grew. I stood at the mountaintop and looked around at the seemingly endless valleys and the rolling green hills. Lewis had finally and completely found peace.

  Everything had taken place just as Lewis would have wanted. No one lingered. There were no refreshments served or stories exchanged. All goodbyes were said at the gravesite. I traveled back to Reach because I felt a great need to see it one last time. I felt as if I was trespassing on unknown property as I wandered the halls. The door to Lewis’ room had been left open. Everything had already been laundered. The bed had been made and the furniture dusted. Even the curtains had been changed back to a spring beige. There was no sign of Lewis ever having been there, except for the lemony scent. I smiled sadly because I knew this was the last time I would ever set foot in Reach. There was nothing left for me there.

  When I left Lewis’ room, I walked slowly along the hall and down the staircase. It was so incredibly quiet. Agnes Gooding stood against the railing of the front verandah sipping wine.

  “I guess this is it,” I said.

  “Will I ever see you again?” Agnes asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said as I looked around the yard. “What’s going to happen to this house? “

  “It’s in his will. If you’re wondering if Charlotte …”

  “I know it won’t be going to her. He loved Reach, but I remember him saying once that it had too many ghosts, that it’s not the place for anyone to begin life.”

  “Mrs. Moore has been here longer than anyone else. It’s hers now. I still have my home on Old Hope Road.” We shared a brief smile.

  “You know when I first knew I had no chance?” Agnes asked rhetorically. “It wasn’t when he told me he didn’t love me, but when I first met you. That day, the day he declared his intention to run for office, I could see it in his eyes.”

  I turned to face Agnes feeling a little confused.

  “I knew he could fall for you, and I knew he would.”

  “But he didn’t.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I have my reasons. You can tell by the way somebody looks at you. You can tell by whether they try everything to be with you, or if they seem to go out of their way to be away from you.”

  Agnes moved to the top step of the verandah and sat down. She motioned for me to sit next to her.

  “Some people don’t know how to deal with their feelings. So often, it goes beyond what seems to be the obvious. Sometimes things happen a lifetime ago, and it affects you for the rest of your life.” Agnes smiled, then took a sip of her wine.

  “You’re talking about Elsie Smalls, aren’t you?” I could tell that Agnes was startled to hear that name come from my mouth. “You knew her, didn’t you? You knew Elsie Smalls.”

  “Yes, I knew Elsie Smalls.” She sighed deeply. “I’m surprised you know anything about her. It’s a name that, in thirty-six years, has never been spoken in this house.”

  “I mentioned her name to Lewis once, many years ago. My God, Agnes. I’d never seen somebody’s face look so … I can’t even think of a word to describe it. You don’t forget when someone’s name has that effect on someone else. It was scary. And that last time I saw him … well … I know that whatever it is that happened with Elsie Smalls, it took a large piece of his heart. I mentioned her name again five days ago, and all these years later, he still really couldn’t talk about her.”

  “The day Elsie Smalls died, a part of Lewis went with her,” Agnes said.

  “Will you tell me what happened?”

  “Oh, it’s all ended now, isn’t it? Elsie is gone. Lewis is gone. It’s a tragedy that’s probably best left buried.”

  “I know Lewis loved her very much. I know she died. She was stabbed. And he pretty much admitted to having something to do with it. But I still don’t know what really happened, or how. I mean, if you love someone that much, how do you … he’s gone, but I still don’t understand him at all.” We just sat there next to one another. I took in some of the sweet mountain air and looked off toward the graceful poincianas. I had forgotton how beautiful Reach was.

  “You know, Agnes. The other day you were talking about how women would fall in love with him and they would see the hurt and they all would think they could make a difference. I was stupid enough to think the same thing.”

  “No, you weren’t stupid. Like most of the others, you just had the bad luck and bad timing of coming into his life after a terrible incident.” Agnes shook her head slowly, then touched my hand. “Souci, you have to know the relationship he had with his mother and father to get any understanding of Lewis. He never got along with his father. Uncle Edward was a very pensive, very stern man. He expected a great deal from his sons. He expected them to be strong. He expected them to be leaders. He expected them to excel in everything they did. Lewis, however, was always very sensitive and quiet. I suppose that Uncle Edward figured that he needed strengthening, toughening up. No matter what Lewis did, his father never gave him a break. On the other hand, William was exactly the kind of son Edward Montrose wanted: smart, outgoing, athletic.” A breeze blew and Agnes’ skirt puffed up a bit. She used her free hand to push it back down.

  “Uncle Edward started comparing the two boys, pitting William against Lewis. In his own way, I think he was only trying to make Lewis more of the person he thought he should have been, but it was the worse thing he could have ever done. Lewis started to resent William. They drifted further and further apart. You never did meet William, did you?”

  “No.”

  “That’s because their relationship had been severed by all the competitiveness and jealousy. As time passed, it was as if they weren’t even related. It was sad. The most bizarre thing is, after all William’s early successes, especially in politics, one day he just decided it wasn’t for him. He realized he had only been doing it to please his father. Lewis, on the other hand, entered politics. You’d think that would have strengthened the relationship with his father, but Lewis, who has always followed his own mind, committed the sin of all sins; he joined up with the opposition party. Edward saw it as a stab in the back, though I think Lewis did it because he genuinely believed in the principles of the National Party.” Agnes removed the clip that had been keeping her bun in place and her hair cascaded onto her shoulders. In all the time I had known her, I had never seen it out. It was always swept up in some fancy arrangement. She looked younger with it flowing so freely.

  “And Lewis’ mother, well, she loved all her children, but she especially had a soft spot for Lewis. I think she felt sorry for him; for wh
at his father put him through. She showered so much attention on him … if only to even things out a little.” She straightened up a bit and smiled the way people do when they’re reliving a pleasant memory.

  “When I first met Lewis, I liked him instantly. He was so quiet and so old for his years. Something about him just touched my heart. The day he stood up to those boys who were bothering me after school, that was the day I fell in love with him. He really did become my hero. When I first used to come over here, it was to play with his sister, Helen, who Lewis absolutely adored. As I got older, it was to spend time with Lewis. Now, I don’t remember when Elsie first started coming around. I do remember Lewis hanging around with her in the kitchen and running into the orange grove with her to chase butterflies. That used to make me so mad. I used to act like I didn’t know they were in there. Then I would go in and act like I was surprised to see them.” Agnes laughed. There was so much love in that laugh.

  “That’s how I knew I really liked him, because I hated all manner of insects, so for me to go into that bug infested place …” her voice trailed off.

  “No one saw Elsie as a threat of any sort. His mother looked at it as a childhood romance. I guess we didn’t realize how serious they had gotten about each other. His mother figured that when he went off to college in America, he would just forget about Elsie. Aunt Margarette and my mother started huddling together and planning our union. I was the perfect choice of a wife for Lewis. I was practically family, had a similar upbringing, and looked like what a future great politician’s wife should look like. Everything seemed like it would fall into place until he returned to Jamaica with a wife in tow. When he walked into that house with her, my heart just hit the floor. She was very beautiful, very well to do and very white. How could I beat that? I never saw Elsie as a threat, but Beatrix, well, I thought I had met my match.” She paused for a moment and cocked her head to the side, as if she was watching the events of her life unfold before her.