Lynna's Rogue

by Kitty Margo

  The child looked at her curiously and, evidently, decided she liked her even if she didn’t have a fish tail. “My name is Crystal. My father named me for the crystal clear water in this very pool,” she announced proudly.

  “You mean your father comes here as well?”

  “Of course he does. Mother and I used to come here every day and swim.” Her angelic face clouded with pain. “Before she died.”

  “I am so sorry. I know how you must miss her.” Unfortunately, Lynna knew all too well the pain caused by the loss of a parent. Then hoping to change the subject and brighten the child’s mood she asked, “Where do you live? It must be close by.”

  “At Eden.”

  “What a fitting name. Is your home very far?”

  “No, father will not allow me to go far, and I am eight years old! Can you credit that he still treats me like a child? He is such an old fussbudget.”

  “I am sure your father worries about you only because he loves you so much. If you were my daughter, I would not let you stray too far from home, either. Now you were telling me where Eden is.”

  “Oh, it’s on the other side of the cane field.” Crystal stood up, her eyes twinkling. “Will you come home with me so father will know that I did not create you in my imagination?” she pleaded. “Please?”

  “No, I couldn’t. Your father is busy, you said yourself there was a problem this morning at the distillery. We would not want to interfere with his work.”

  “Oh, he is always busy. He will stop work to see you, though. Please?”

  How could she refuse such a darling face? “All right, just let me get dressed. But I can only stay a short while. It is almost lunchtime.”

  “Come on.” Crystal giggled. “Let’s go eat a stinking toe. I am hungry.”

  Lynna could not have heard the child correctly. She could not have invited her to consume a stinking toe. “Excuse me?” Although she had heard from her Uncle Cliff that Jamaicans had rather bizarre appetites.

  “I said a stinking toe, or ‘tinkin toe,’ as some Jamaicans call it. It is called that because the seedpods look like big, fat toes and have the scent of smelly feet. It is delicious, however, and the pulp is very sweet. Father says it is good medicine, too, it relieves headaches and rheumatism.”

  A short while later, Lynna wiped the sweat from her brow, munching on the sweet meat of a stinking toe, as they rode down the narrow road that snaked through the sugarcane fields. The sugarcane stalks rose ten feet into the air, blocking even the slightest breeze from reaching them, but allowing the blazing sun to beat relentlessly upon their heads. She clung to the sides of the little cart for dear life as it bounced over the ruts in the road pulled by a donkey. Much to Lynna’s relief, when they cleared the twin fields of towering cane stalks, Eden was visible in the distance.

  Crystal took her on a guided tour of the plantation, describing in surprising detail the many buildings they passed. First were the coolie houses, row after row of cabins surrounded by trees to block out the tropical sun. Lynna knew that sugarcane, often described as a rich man's crop, was so labor intensive and had such a relatively small window for harvesting, that coolies on plantations were often actually worked to death. Unfortunately, owners found it was cheaper to bring in fresh workers than to treat coolies humanely. After a day of intense labor, the coolies could most often be found drowning their sorrow in rum or smoking the ganja.

  Next were the workshops for the blacksmiths, carpenters, and coopers. Then there were the overseer’s cottage, the office and the bookkeeper’s cottage. Crystal stopped the cart in front of Eden, a huge plantation house similar to the ones back home.

  “So, there you are, little lady. You almost missed lunch.”

  Lynna turned to find a handsome man emerging from the side doors of the house, with a wide grin at the sight of the lovely vision with his daughter.

  Crystal jumped from the cart into her father’s waiting arms. “Father, this is the mermaid I was telling you about. Isn’t she beautiful? But you were right; she isn’t really a mermaid, and she doesn’t even have a tail. Alas, she is just like us.”

  “Cheer up, my darling, perhaps she is an enchanted mermaid who has the ability to take human form at will. And yes, she possesses an exceptional beauty.” Coming around to Lynna’s side, his eyes twinkled as he whispered, “I am sorry if she caused you any embarrassment, but she is a child with a very vivid imagination. Please, accept my apologies.” Extending his hand, he introduced himself, “I am Michael Devereux, and the little minx is my daughter.”

  “Lynna Mathison,” she replied, taking his hand. “I assure you, there is nothing to apologize for. Your daughter is adorable and quite an accomplished tour guide.” His hands on her waist were firm as they lifted her from the cart. Lynna noticed he had not shaved and had a flashback to when she was a child and her father would beard her, as he referred to his mischief making. In the morning before he shaved, he would chase her, grab her in his arms, and rub the scratchy prickles of his unshaven cheek lightly across the tender part of her neck, sending her into peals of gay laughter. Her eyes welled at the thought. Why had her own father forsaken her?

  “Will you join us for lunch?” Michael asked, catching her completely off guard. “We don’t receive female company much out here and would be delighted if you would accept our invitation.”

  “No, I really could not.”

  “Please, Lynna?” Crystal pleaded. “Have lunch with us.”

  Although, her aunts would surely think her having lunch with total strangers inappropriate, why not? She was hoping to make friends on the island and here was her first opportunity. “All right, but I feel as though I am imposing on your generosity.”

  “Nonsense,” Michael said, and then could not resist adding, “After all, how often does one have an honest to goodness mermaid to lunch?”

  “Oh, sir, I fear you are a terrible jokester. How will I know when to take you seriously?”

  “You will know.” Then lifting his giggling daughter, he carried her into the house perched on his muscular shoulders and sent her to wash for lunch.

  “You home is lovely, Mr. Devereux,” Lynna said, admiring the richly appointed furnishings and the wide-open, airy expanse of the house. “How long have you lived here?”

  “Please, call me Michael. And yes, it is lovely, but I cannot claim ownership. I only oversee the plantation during the owner’s absence.” There was a harshness in his tone that she had not detected earlier.

  “I see.” She realized at once she had hit upon a touchy subject.

  “It was an understandable error. You see, I was the overseer here for several years before the original owner passed away. He had no living kin to pass the estate to, so the plantation, distillery, acreage and coolies were auctioned off to the highest bidder.”

  “And where is the new owner?” she wondered aloud, seeing that Michael and Crystal seemed at home in the big house.

  “He isn’t the new owner. Eden has been his for the past several years. In answer to your question, he travels a great deal, coming here only occasionally to check on his investment.

  “He must trust you implicitly.”

  “I have never given him reason not to,” he stated simply as he led the way to the dining room and seated her at the table.

  “What are we having for lunch?” Crystal held her hands up to verify they were clean.

  “A traditional Jamaican delicacy, cow’s feet soup.” Her father winked and grinned.

  Lynna shuddered, thinking the island’s inhabitants certainly considered toes and feet to be appetizing fare. Hopefully, he was only teasing again.

  After a pleasant lunch of shrimp in coconut cream sauce and molasses cake for dessert, they sought out the shade of the verandah to ward off the afternoon heat. Lynna could not help but be amazed as she surveyed the vast workings of a sugar plantation. “I had no idea there was so much involved in making the spoonful of sugar I add to my coffee every morning.”


  “You are not alone. Few people realize how labor intensive the making of sugar really is.” He stood and moved to the edge of the porch to gaze across the towering cane fields. “Would you like to see the cane works? They should prove fascinating as well.”

  She caught the note of pride in his voice when he spoke of the mill. “I really would love to see it, however, not today. My aunts will be worried if I don’t return home soon and I am certain you have work to do. Could I perhaps see it another day?”

  “Certainly, whenever you wish. I cannot think of a more enjoyable way to pass the afternoon.”

  Lynna felt herself blush as she stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. “Now, if I may borrow your daughter, I am afraid I do not quite know my way around yet.” She soon discovered that to be an impossible request, as Crystal was sleeping soundly on the cushioned porch swing.

  “I will do the honors of escorting you home.” Michael chuckled as he called for the cart to be brought back around.

  “No, absolutely not,” Lynna insisted. “I could not possibly take you away from your work. I have taken too much of your time already.”

  “Stop fretting over my work. This place will not fall apart if I take a few hours off. And anyone who witnesses your beauty certainly will not begrudge me the time.”

  “Sir, you are an outrageous flatterer.”

  “You know the old adage, if the shoe fits… now hop in the cart.”

  The ride home was eventful. They stopped often, with Michael pointing out sights she might otherwise have missed. She took this time to study him more closely. He was of average height and build, a few inches taller than her, with sandy brown hair. Handsome in a boyish way, his brown eyes twinkled when he smiled.

  “How am I supposed to take you home when I don’t even know where you live? Don’t that beat all! I forgot to ask.” He laughed and thumped the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Perhaps you are an enchanted mermaid and have the power to cast a spell making a man forget all else but you.”

  “Perhaps I am,” she smiled slyly, raised one eyebrow, and was surprised to realize that she was actually flirting with this stranger.

  Michael threw back his head and laughed heartily. “My daughter and I are going to enjoy having you around. Enchanted or not, you brighten the day.” They stopped at a crossroads and he asked, “What brings you to Jamaica?”

  She could never reveal Joshua’s cold and callous treatment of her, so instead she gave the most recent set of tragic events. “I was going to visit my aunt in Charleston when the earthquake struck.”

  “I am sorry to hear that.” He took her hand to comfort her. “What a terrible tragedy. Did your aunt survive as well?”

  “Yes, but she was quite distraught and insisted that we leave the city until Charleston can be rebuilt. That is why we are here. And I must admit, Jamaica is doing a wonderful job of soothing our troubled souls.”

  “Well, I cannot say I am happy the earthquake devastated Charleston, but I am happy you and your aunt chose our island as the place to heal.”

  “Actually, I am, too. I could not ask for a more beautiful place, or to meet nicer people than you and your charming daughter.”

  He reached to push a lock of stray hair behind her ear, surprising Lynna with his boldness. “Thank you kindly, my beautiful mermaid, now let us get you out of this unforgiving sun. Which way?”

  “Left…um…right, maybe…um…I’m not sure,” she replied with a perplexing look. “I am visiting my aunt and uncle at Springfield. Perhaps you know of it?”

  He turned to her with a shocked expression. “Springfield! I cannot believe Cliff And Bertie failed to mention they had a niece who was so lovely. I will make a point to call on them more often.” He grinned, flashing a gleaming white smile.

  Springfield was a quaint little house. Lynna’s first impression when seeing the house was that it reminded her of a gingerbread cottage. Her Uncle Cliff was short and bald with a perpetual smile on his face. Aunt Bertie stood a foot over him, her long grey hair braided and pinned atop her head. The two constantly joked and teased each other, but when their eyes met, it was something close to worship that visitors saw.

  Bertie, Cliff, and Gypsie came down the steps when the little cart rolled up to the door. “Hello Michael, I see you found our errant niece and brought her home,” Cliff teased, shaking Michael’s hand. “We were about to form a search party.”

  “I was not exactly lost, Uncle Cliff.” Lynna laughed. “But, yes, Michael was kind enough to drive me home.”

  “Why, you must be famished, child,” Bertie worried. “It is almost supper time and you missed lunch. Come in the house and I will prepare a plate for both of you.”

  “Don’t bother, Aunt Bertie. I had lunch with Michael and his charming daughter, Crystal.”

  “Oh, did you now?” Bertie was obviously pleased with the idea of a prospective romance, especially one that could possibly keep Lynna on the island. “Well, then it is only fair you stay to supper with us, Michael.”

  “I wish I could, Bertie,” Michael was already climbing back into the cart. “But I still have a good deal of work to complete before the sun sets. Will the invitation hold until tomorrow evening?”

  “It certainly will. We will see you then and bring Crystal,” Bertie reminded him. “It has been too long in between visits.”

  “I will. She has been pestering me every day to bring her over to see all of you.” As the cart pulled away, he called over his shoulder and winked at Lynna. “She will be delighted.”

  “He seems to be a fine young man,” Gypsie said, as they watched Michael disappear down the dirt road in a cloud of dust.

  “Oh, he is,” Bertie assured her, going to place her arm around Lynna’s shoulder and lead her into the house. “A more charming man is not to be found, and such a sweet little daughter, poor thing. A child without a mother is such a pity.”

  “And a hard worker, too,” Cliff added. “But he is a puzzle. It is been how many years since his wife passed away? Almost three, I think. And he has shown absolutely no interest in women since then that I can tell. It is indeed a puzzle.”

  “Perhaps the woman of his dreams has not come along. A woman would be fortunate to find herself with Michael Devereux for a husband, wouldn’t she, Lynna?” Gypsie asked, feigning innocence.

  “Yes, a woman would be fortunate indeed, Aunt Gypsie,” Lynna answered dutifully, accepting the fact that both her aunts had matchmaking on their minds.

  Supper the following evening was a gay affair with traditional Jamaican cuisine and lively conversation. Lynna found she enjoyed Michael’s company immensely and they were never at a loss for a topic to discuss. He had the group rolling with laughter when he recounted the mermaid story.

  Crystal rarely left Lynna’s side, sitting beside her at supper and curling on the sofa next to her when they adjourned to the parlor for coffee and rum. “Lynna is going to step on you if you don’t stay out of her shadow,” her father teased with smiling eyes.

  “Oh, do not tease her, Michael,” Lynna giggled. “If she ever gets underfoot I will simply change my legs to a mermaid’s tail, so I won’t cause her any harm.”

  “Can you really do that?”

  “She is just teasing you, Crystal,” Cliff grinned. “By the way, did I ever show you how a horse bites corn?”

  “No, how?” she replied innocently.

  He opened his hand wide and grabbed the ticklish spot just above her knee and gently squeezed until she was rolling with squeals of laughter. “That’s how.”

  When Crystal settled down, she wiped the tears from her eyes and then, out of the blue, inquired, “Lynna, will you be my new mother?”

  Michael rolled his eyes toward the heavens, then quickly lifted his inquisitive daughter from the sofa and started toward the door. “Thank you for inviting us to supper. It was delicious as always.” Lynna noticed the sudden look of longing in his eyes as he mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”

  �
��Nonsense.” She smiled using his earlier explanation. “She is but an imaginative child.”

  Turning at the door, Michael’s eyes held hers. “Would you still like to see the cane works tomorrow?”

  “Yes, I would. I have been looking forward to it.”

  “Then come by for lunch, and afterwards I will give you the grand tour.”

  “I will see you at noon then,” she answered, just before Crystal reached over to give her a bear hug and a resounding smack on her lips.

  The mill works astonished Lynna. There was a boiling house, a curing house, and a still house. At the mill, Michael explained the process of extracting sugar from the sugar cane. She learned that inside the hard rind of a cane stalk is a soft, sugary fiber. Between November and June, the cane is harvested and hauled to the mill. There the juice is crushed out by a series of rollers turned by a huge water wheel. The juice that is squeezed from the cane, cloudy green and about thirteen percent sugar, is then clarified, evaporated, and separated into golden sugar crystals and molasses, from which a goodly amount of the molasses is used in the making of Jamaica’s famed rum.

  “It seems terribly complicated.” All the facts seemed to run together in her mind.

  “I suppose it would to a newcomer, but it’s all second nature to me.” Again his voice took on a sharp edge. “I will wager the man who owns Eden doesn’t know half as much about cane as I do. But that is neither here nor there.”

  In the weeks that followed, Lynna was a frequent visitor at Eden. During the day, while Michael was busy at the distillery, she and Crystal often sought the cool waterfall. If they were not playing in the cascading water, they could be found searching for small fish in the tidal pools at the ocean’s edge, building sandcastles, or laughing gaily as they frolicked through a field of wildflowers. Lynna could not love the child any more if she were her very own. In the evening, after Crystal was unhappily hauled off to bed, she and Michael took rides in the cart or relaxed on the verandah, enjoying breathtaking sunsets.