by Dara Girard
Janet absently gestured to a chair.
Beverly gingerly crossed the room and sat. "How angry was he?"
Janet threw an arm over her eyes. "He nearly turned purple." She heard a little snicker and frowned. "It's not funny."
Beverly covered her mouth. "I'm sorry. It's just that you're the only one that can make him turn that color."
"I'll put that on my resume of talents."
Beverly touched her arm. "I'm really sorry."
"Me too." Janet sat up and bit her lip thoughtful. "I will wear him down eventually."
Beverly stared at her stunned. "You mean you'll risk his anger again? Do you want to be punished? Wasn't what happened with Ramani enough to convince you that home is a place of safety?"
"No." Janet shook her head suddenly weary. "You don't understand."
She lightly touched her hand. "How can I when you never talk about it?"
"I know," Janet said, but she couldn't talk about it.
"Father's anger isn't worth the risk."
"What choice do I have? I think about what happened every day, but it wasn't all bad. Sometimes Ramani and I had fun. Clean fun," she clarified when Beverly frowned. "I have to live my own life. I can't stay here forever."
"You won't live here forever. You'll get married some day."
"I can't wait that long."
"Not everyone will end up like Valerie."
Janet's dear friend Valerie was an example of a woman's worse fate: over thirty and still without any prospects. "This isn't about Valerie. Or Ramani. Or Daddy or anyone. It's about me. I want to move out. I have to."
"But what's so wrong with living here?"
Janet stared at her sister amazed, wanting to reach out and shake her. But Beverly's question was as innocent as her nature. She was pure in both heart and mind. Her exquisite features did not make her vain and she was kind to everyone. At times Janet envied her sister's trusting nature and kind heart. She felt so far from the virtues her sister had. "I wish I knew how you can stand it."
"Stand what?"
"We're grown women being treated like children. Wouldn't you like to eat dinner when you want to? Be able to close your bedroom door? Not have to eat with everyone all the time?"
Beverly shrugged. "I don't mind it."
That was the problem. No one else in the family minded except her. At times Janet truly thought she'd been born into the wrong family. Although Beverly worked 'in the world' as a secretary, she was content with their sheltered existence. The church they attended, Full Gospel Apostolic Church was a moderately conservative church. But while some of the members were allowing their young people more allowances, the Barnetts remained staunchly conservative. No make-up. No cutting of their hair. No loud jewelry.
Restricted activities —most of them centered on the church. They could wear jeans. It took only one fierce winter for Mrs. Barnett to convince her husband to make that concession. However, all jeans or pants had to be one size larger so they wouldn't cling.
Janet knew that there was a greater world out there and that she could navigate it.
She had only recently been able to convince her father to get a computer, but without internet access. Fortunately, they could gain access to the internet either at school or at their local library. At home they had email access by using a special machine usually reserved for senior citizens since some were not yet familiar with all the new technology.
Janet used it frequently to correspond with family, especially her favorite Aunt Bernice. Her father distrusted the computer just as he did too much education, which he felt polluted the pure spirit by introducing dissatisfaction and encouraging change. In spite of living in America for over twenty-five years, there were still many American customs her parents didn't understand. Their lack of exposure, compounded by their strict religious beliefs, kept them from changing with the times.
But Janet didn't see the world that way and was certain that if she could open Beverly's eyes to the opportunities then she would leave with her. They could have the life she'd hoped to share with Ramani. "But there's so much we could do." Her voice shook. "Oh, Bev, please just think about it. I can get around Dee-dee and Daddy somehow, but I can't live on my own and we'd make great roommates."
Beverly wrapped her arms around herself unsure. "I don't know."
"Just think about it. Please."
Beverly looked at her sister for a moment then nodded. "I'll think about it. I know it means a lot to you."
Janet hugged her. "Thank you."
Beverly patted her sister as she would a happy child then pulled away. "So what are you going to do now?"
She bit her lip. "I don't know, but I'll come up with something. Right now Daddy doesn't ever want to discuss it again."
Chapter 6
"In my day," Mr. Barnett said to his captive audience at dinner that evening, "back inna Jamaica a girl was happy to stay home. She stayed until her father approved the right man for her to marry."
Mrs. Barnett nodded. "As it should be."
"Girls didn't go racing off on their own without thought. A girl from a good family listened to her parents."
"Daddy," Janet said straining for patience. "I don't want to dishonor anyone. I just want to—"
Mr. Barnett waved his fork at her. "I said we will not discuss it."
"Right."
"If you would prefer to struggle out in the world nothing can be said."
"Daddy I won't—"
He set his fork down. "Didn't I say not to discuss it? Why are you determined to bring up a topic I don't wish to discuss?"
Janet lowered her head. Her father could stick to a topic like a curry stain on a white shirt.
"I don't know why you're determined to talk about leaving us and going out on your own. Why do you want to drag your poor sister along on your foolish plans? Why do you want to live this fairy tale you've imagine?"
"It's not a fairy tale. Other girls—"
He pointed at her. "Not another word out of you. I said I don't want to discuss it."
Janet sighed and glanced around the table desperate for someone to introduce another topic.
Francine spoke up. "I heard Sister Agnes' niece has a bun in the oven."
"When did she get married?" Mrs. Barnett asked.
"She isn't."
Mr. Barnett threw up his hands. "Lord God! You see what can happen to you? Do you want that kind of news to fall on my ears?"
"No," Janet said, giving Francine a swift kick under the table and making a quick slicing motion against her neck.
She winced and returned to her meal.
"Baby, baby, baby," Mr. Barnett said. "Inna this country all I see everywhere is a young girl with a baby and no man. That's what these girls have. If they'd stayed in their father's home they wouldn't be like that."
"That wouldn't happen to me," Janet said.
"No, it won't because you're staying here."
A moment of brief silence followed then Mr. Barnett opened his mouth again, fortunately Mrs. Lind came to the rescue as she set steamed calaloo, a green leaf vegetable similar to kale, on the table. She had prepared their favorite foods: steamed green bananas, cornmeal dumplings and her special dish of smoked mackerel. The beguiling aroma provided a reminder of home. "Mi hear Jeffrey Framer has returned home," she said.
"Good," Mr. Barnett said. "Even those who go out into the world know that it is best to return home."
"I wonder why he came back," Janet said eager to keep the new topic alive.
"There's only one reason," Mrs. Barnett said with a look of anticipation.
"What?"
"To get married."
Janet frowned. "How do you know that?"
She turned to Mrs. Lind. "He didn't come home with a woman, did he?"
"No," Mrs. Lind said. "Him still single. He just bought the Westland property."
Mrs. Barnett clapped her hands together as though someone had offered her a grand gift. "He's single and settling. This
is perfect."
Janet furrowed her brows. "I don't understand."
"That only shows how young you are." She stood. "When a young man with a good education returns home to settle he only wants one thing." She pushed in her chair. "To find a good woman in the church." Her gaze fell on each of her daughters. "And I'm going to make sure that his selection is one of you."
"Where are you going?" Mr. Barnett called after his wife as she hurried out of the room.
"To make grata cake. It's Sister Daniels' favorite." This was a favorite sweet snack, made out of shredded coconut and lots of sugar.
Mr. Barnett frowned. "Why bake anything? That woman salivates if you open the refrigerator. Besides she doesn't need any more cake," he said referring to her rotund figure.
"No," Maxine said with a sly grin. "But mother needs more information about Jeffrey Farmer and Sister Daniel will have it."
"I don't approve of a man going after degree after degree," Mr. Barnett said. "But he comes from a good family." He jerked his chin towards Janet. "You used to be good friends if I remember correctly."
Janet shook her head then glanced at her sister. "No, that was Beverly."
Mr. Barnett turned to his other daughter. "Is that right?"
Beverly kept her head lowered. "Yes," she said in a quiet voice. "But that was a long time ago."
* * *
"My mother's already been over to see him," Valerie Williams told Janet a few days later as they walked the neighborhood. They lived in Old Hamsford, which was affectionately called "Little Jamaica" because of the large concentration of Jamaican immigrants who had decided to live there. The Barnetts and Williams, along with most of the residents of Old Hamsford, loved the fact that they could walk to anywhere they needed. They did their shopping by walking to the market and they could walk to the park, library and especially church.
The cold grip of winter had released its hold allowing the warmth of spring to breakthrough. The dirty snow melted along the roadside while red and pink buds highlighted the bare trees. Valerie wore a simple lime green wrap coat and a pair of sturdy brown boots. A kind, intelligent, and sensible woman she had only two major flaws: a homely face and advanced years.
Janet had known Valerie all her life, but more as an acquaintance than a friend because of their age difference. But all that changed last year when Valerie helped Janet through her grief and became her closest friend and confidant.
"I don't know why he came back," Janet said. "He returned briefly to attend his father's funeral, but left just as quickly. Not that I blame him."
"The official story is that he came back to complete his father's work—building the new wing of the Hamsford's Public Library and dedicating it to him. But I think there's more to it."
"Why?"
"Because he bought a house."
That was no surprise. The Farmers were always buying something. They were the opposite of their surname. They'd never farmed anything, but owned a lot of property and made it their duty to acquire more. The Farmers and Williams were part of Old Hamsford's founding families who settled in the area in the early part of the last century. Sympathetic Quakers, earlier residents of the area had helped them get land. One individual, Mr. Delaney, developed a friendship with Thomas Cornelius Farmer, Jeffrey's great-grandfather, and purchased a large amount of land and sold it to him. In those days, blacks could not get loans from the banks.
Mr. Farmer then built one hundred single family homes and sold or rented them, at reasonable prices, to the blacks and whites living in the area at the time. The Williams did the same, but on a smaller scale. Initially, there were many migrant workers, primarily African American, living in Hamsford, but a majority left with the Quakers and Jamaicans (of all stripes and cultures) began moving in. And the Farmers continued to build. They were the real estate moguls in the region. Their wealth had grown from single rental homes in Hamsford, into a sprawling real estate empire that included apartment complexes and businesses.
By the time Jeffrey and his sisters inherited the estate they owned more than one thousand apartments and townhouses throughout the Mid-Atlantic under Farmer and Son Realtors, a profitable hotel in Ocean City, and a lakeside house just outside of Hamsford. Jeffrey's father had been one of the early investors in Maryland Central Bank in 1987 and now owned around half a million shares. After his death Jeffrey had taken over his position on the Board of Directors.
Jeffrey was the eldest and only son, and held the responsibility of securing an education and making sure his family's millions doubled.
"His family already owns one of the largest estates in the area," Janet said. "why would he need another?"
"Why would any man need his own house?" When Janet didn't readily reply, Valerie helped her. "To start a family."
"If I had the money to buy my own house, I'd shout just to hear my own echo."
"He's following the path set for him. This is what his father wanted, but I'm also certain he's leaving his options open."
Janet shook her head. "He shouldn't have come back."
"Don't feel sorry for him. He has everything. Youth, education, money."
"I can't see much use for them here."
A sly smile touched Valerie's lips. "Well, it isn't all bad."
"What do you mean?"
"Can't you guess?"
Janet stopped walking and rested her hands on her hips. "Would I be asking if I could?"
Valerie looped her arm through Janet's and began walking again. "Jeffrey's presence certainly widens our options."
Janet blinked then understood. "Oh no. Not you too!"
"Why not me? I know I'm older than he is and not as good looking, but that doesn't make me any less ambitious."
"Some men like older women and your looks are fine. That's not what I meant. I just thought—"
Valerie laughed with a little sadness. "Poor Janet. I make a poor substitute for Ramani, don't I?"
Janet suddenly felt guilty. "No," she said quickly. "You're perfect just the way you are."
Valerie raised a knowing brow, but didn't contradict her. "Not everyone is as adventurous as you Janet and it's wrong to expect them to be."
"I know." Janet glanced up at a slowly moving cloud eager to change the subject.
Valerie patted Janet's arm. "I'm sorry about the letter."
"It's not your fault. I forgot to hide it. I'm glad you enjoyed your holiday."
"My parents weren't too pleased. They'd hoped this particular Brother we met at one of the three churches we visited there would have taken interest. It's humiliating to be offered up like a prized pig and turned down."
"Anyone who turns you down is a pig." Janet kissed her friend on the cheek. "But his loss is my gain."
"They even offered him a car in the deal."
Janet burst into laughter then quickly sobered when her friend didn't smile. Her good humor turned to outrage. "That's ridiculous."
"What's truly ridiculous is that he decided to buy the car from them."
Janet narrowed her eyes. "Are you certain you're not exaggerating the truth a little?"
Valerie sniffed. "At the expense of my pride? Hardly."
"You wouldn't have to deal with that if you—"
Valerie pointed at her, her tone firm. "Don't even ask me."
Janet let her shoulders drop. "It was just a thought."
"Then erase it from your mind."
"If I had half your money I would be out of here faster than you could say Hallelujah."
"The money isn't mine. I'm unmarried and my father feels he needs to protect me."
"The right man will come along."
"I hope it's soon. What about you? Do you think the right man will come?"
Janet hesitated. She hadn't thought about it much. "I honestly don't think there's a man I could love more than my art. With my art I feel completely myself—alive, powerful and free. I don't think I'd ever feel that way with a man. And I won't settle for anything less than the deepest most p
assionate connection."
"You might."
Janet shook her head. "I don't think marriage saves a woman from anything."
"It saves her from loneliness," Valerie said in a quiet voice.
Janet didn't feel lonely so she didn't know how to respond. She looked away instead.
Valerie halted. "Oh no." She grabbed Janet's hands and dragged her to a nearby bush.
"What is it?"
"I just saw Mother Shea."
Mother Sheridan, better known as Mother Shea, was the Seer of the church. At age eleven she'd saved her parent's lives by warning them not to travel that day. When the route they were to take was destroyed by a bridge collapse young Shea was heralded as a Seer, one who receives visions from God. However, as she grew up, her visions became less about warnings and predictions and more about obligations. Two weeks ago she'd been told that Brother Jeremiah was to donate three hundred dollars to the church, which he did promptly. She was a striking figure known for her extravagant hats. She had one hat in particular, which she only wore on certain occasions. It had so many feathers one thought that at any moment a bird would peek its head out and chirp. Mother Shea could afford such luxuries because she had found it very profitable to accept payment for her visions.
Janet clasped her shirt in panic. "Do you think she saw us?"
Valerie shook her head. "No, I don't think so."
"Do you think she's coming this way?"
"I don't know."
"Go on. Look."
"I'm afraid to."
"Then I'll look." Janet peeked her head out and saw Mother Shea in the distance. "No, she didn't see us."
Valerie rose cautiously. "She's wearing that awful hat. That means she's on an official call."
"I wonder what she's up to."
"You'll soon find out. She's heading towards your house."
Chapter 7
Her feet were killing her. As Mother Shea made her way up the long driveway she recalled how vanity was a sin and could also be painful. She promised herself to never again become victim to it by buying a pair of shoes that were too small just because she liked the color. She hobbled up the walkway and glanced up to see the two younger Barnetts at the window, but they did not see her. They were too busy watching their high school boys' track team jog past. She turned and saw two of the boys slow their jog to a walk, looking to catch the girls' attention.
