by Dara Girard
Janet let her shoulders slump then stood. "Perhaps you're right. I'm probably over dramatizing things."
Beverly nodded. "Exactly."
Although the Barnett daughters pretended not to worry all through dinner, it was difficult because their father wasn't home yet, and rarely, if ever, missed dinner time. They pretended not to worry as they sat anxiously waiting in the family room that night. But when their father finally returned home, they peppered him with questions.
Overwhelmed, Mr. Barnett held up his hands to stop the barrage. "Enough. I will let you all know what your mother and I have been up to." He sat down in his favorite leather recliner. "Everything is all set." He fell silent, leaving a dramatic pause and watched their faces then said, "There's going to be a wedding."
"Whose?" Janet said in a hoarse voice, the only one bold enough to ask.
"Beverly's." Mrs. Barnett cupped Beverly's face in her hands. "You are going to marry Brother Jerome."
Janet leaped to her feet. "Brother Jerome! You can't be serious."
"Do you think this is a barnyard?" Mr. Barnett demanded. "Keep your voice down."
"I'm sorry."
"Now wish your sister joy," Mrs. Barnett said. "She is to be a rich woman."
The three other Barnett sisters offered subdued congratulations, but Janet could not. "But he's old," she said in protest.
Mrs. Barnett sent her a stern look. "He's not that old."
"He's older than Daddy."
"Not quite."
"And aside from that the man's a f—"
Mr. Barnett stared at her in outrage. "Do you want to be struck down dead? You are not to call anyone a fool."
"Not everyone is meant to be a scholar, Janet," Mrs. Barnett added.
"But I think—"
Mr. Barnett raised his hand for silence. "If I want to hear opinions, I will offer them." His hand fell to his side. "How dare you question my decision. Am I not the head of this household? Have I not been given the duty to care for all of you? Do you think I've acted hastily without thought? Is that the kind of father I am?"
"No."
"Then why would you insult me?"
Janet briefly shut her eyes in regret. "I meant no disrespect, but we all know that Mother Shea—"
Mrs. Barnett put a finger to her lips. "Shhh, you do not want to invite trouble. While we may have seen and heard certain things, we must never deny her gift and she asked nothing of us. This is God's will and a blessing for us. You may not like him, but you are not the one who is going to be his wife." She looked at Beverly. "How do you feel, my dear?"
Beverly held her hands tightly in her lap and smiled. "Honored. Of course I will be Brother Jerome's wife." She hugged her mother then walked over and hugged her father.
Janet stared at the scene in paralyzed disbelief. "All right," she said in a pious tone. "I will offer no more opinions. However, may I ask one question?"
Mr. Barnett nodded. "Certainly."
"How much did Brother Jerome pay Mother Shea to have this vision?"
Her sisters gasped; her mother shut her eyes and moaned while her father leapt to his feet with rage. "Go to your room and don't show your face until morning."
Janet raced out of the room then fell on her bed and cried. She wept that her sister would marry a man she despised and that she'd lost her only chance of freedom. She felt herself go cold inside. She knew it was better to go numb than to feed into her rage. She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered in a desperate plea, "Dear God, don't let me hate him."
"You're too passionate, Janet," a quiet voice said from the doorway.
Janet stiffened hoping her sister hadn't heard her words.
"That is why you'll always be hurt."
Janet wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffed, releasing her tension. She turned to see Beverly and shook her head. "But you can't marry him. You can't."
Beverly sat down beside her sister and smiled. "But I will. No, don't argue. Just listen. Did you see their faces? Did you see their happiness? That is what I can give them. After all they have done for us I can honor them this way and the wishes of the Lord."
"You think the vision was real?"
"Mother Shea saved her parents' lives and she's saved the lives of others. You can't ignore her gift. And if her gift says I should marry Brother Jerome then I will."
"I know you don't love him, but do you even like him?"
Beverly shrugged nonchalant. "He's established. Decent."
"Pompous, proud—"
"Janet."
"I'm sorry."
"You can learn to like anyone and even love them in time."
"How much time? Centuries?"
Beverly shook her head. "You're not being serious."
"Don't you want something more?"
"Misery comes from wanting things to be different than they are. Here in Hamsford my prospects are slim. I accept that. You have dreams and ambitions but they only make you unhappy. You're always striving to change things instead of accepting things. I am content. I don't expect much and this is a blessing. This is my destiny." She placed a finger over Janet's lips stopping her from speaking. "I know that you had your heart set on moving out, but I've thought of another idea."
"What?"
"After I'm married you can come and live with me. I'm sure Daddy would agree to that."
Janet plastered on a smile in order not to cringe. She'd rather pluck out her own eyes than live in the same house as Brother Jerome, but she knew her sister meant well. "You're sweet. Why can't I be as good as you?"
"Just see the best of situations instead of being so quick to judge. You'll find that life is full of happiness and you'll be more content."
Janet held her sister's hands. "Good and wise. If I didn't love you, I'd be jealous. You're perfect."
"I'm far from perfect." Beverly bit her lip. "Is it wrong to admit that I'm a little scared?"
"No, that's human." Janet drew her knees to her chest. "I suppose I'll have to be nicer to Brother Jerome now."
"Definitely. Be polite."
Janet stared up at the picture of the screaming image on her ceiling, inwardly feeling the emotion it portrayed. "I'll try my best."
"You'll have to try very hard."
Janet looked at her sister. "Why?"
"Because he's having dinner with us tomorrow."
* * *
Brother Peter Jerome arrived promptly for dinner the next day. That was to be expected because he was a man who prided himself on his punctuality and consideration of others. According to Mrs. Barnett's wishes, Mrs. Lind had prepared a sumptuous bowl of seafood rice consisting of freshwater crab meat, oysters, mussels, and shrimp seasoned with tomatoes, onions and coriander. There was also okra stew seasoned with beef jerky, garlic and other aromatic spices, steamed tilapia and cornbread. Throughout dinner, Brother Jerome boasted about his punctuality. He was a very fine, slender figure of a man with a long delicate nose, slim lips and smooth skin that belied his age. He vehemently denied coloring his hair, although all the men in his family grayed by thirty-five, and he was several years past that mark.
He fancied himself a well-educated man because he had a Master's degree. He also fancied himself a cultured man because was a second generation Jamaican-American and thought he knew more about the American culture than anyone foreign born ever could. Throughout dinner—when he wasn't pausing for breath or food—he praised the Barnett's taste in clothing, food, home decor and their fine looking, well-behaved Christian daughters and told them of how blessed he felt to soon be one of the family.
"We're happy too," Mrs. Barnett said too excited to eat.
"It was time for me to finally settle down. It is my duty to help my fellow man and I feel privileged to release you of the burden of one of your daughters."
Janet cut into her tilapia with a smooth, quick motion. "I think our father and mother would prefer to see us as blessings rather than burdens Brother Jerome."
He blinked. "Yes, of
course. I meant it more figuratively than literally."
Janet opened her mouth to inquire 'How so?' but received a warning look from her parents and a pleading one from Beverly and relented. "I am sorry. I misunderstood."
"That's okay. Not everyone can grasp the subtleties in conversation."
Janet gritted her teeth and stabbed her fish nearly cracking her plate.
"When will you hold the engagement announcement?" Maxine said eager to attend a celebratory event. It had been a long time since the family had attended any.
"In three weeks. I've already started making the arrangements. I plan to hold it in the ballroom of the Wellshire Mansion and hire a classical string ensemble and the Red Mango Catering Company," he said, looking pleased with the family's surprised expressions. He'd wanted to impress them with the expense of his arrangements and had succeeded. Status and prestige were a currency in Hamsford and he wanted to flaunt his. "Nothing less for my intended." He smiled at Beverly.
Francine smiled in approval, while Maxine and Trudy immediately began discussing what they would wear. Throughout the rest of dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Barnett thanked both God and Brother Jerome numerous times for their blessing. Janet concentrated on her dinner, wishing to be elsewhere.
* * *
Janet found comfort in her studies and was going over her homework when her father appeared in the doorway and said, "Come with me to the market," before turning away.
Janet knew not to question him and shut her books and followed him to the front door. He waited for her as she put on her shoes and jacket then opened the door to the bright sunlight that had wiped away all signs of winter. "We'll walk," he said.
The scent of rain and remnants of a downpour hung in the air and glistened in the grass and on the budding trees. The sun cast a misty haze over the sidewalk and several of the small stone buildings that stood as a reminder of the settlement by the Quakers. The poorer residents lived on the outskirts of Old Hamsford in box houses like those built after World War II. Closer to town, the majority of detached homes were two-story structures—some brightly colored surrounded by fanciful gardens. Janet walked quietly by her father, avoiding the mud and puddles.
After a few blocks her father said, "We are alike in many ways. Had you been a boy—" He stopped then shoved his hands in his coat pockets. "I, too, dreamed of a better life. That is why I came to America. I had dreams, Janet, just like you, but I made mistakes. Mistakes I wouldn't have made had I listened to others, or sought counsel. You do not have to like Brother Jerome, but you must respect him. And me."
Janet looped her arm through his. "Daddy, I do respect you. I respect no other man more." Please don't force me to stop.
"Not even Pastor Wainwright?"
"Not even him. Sometimes I wish..." She let her words fall away knowing she could never say what she wanted to: That sometimes she wished she'd been born the boy he'd wanted, then there would never be a separation between them. They would talk as equals and she could venture out on her own with his approval. They could talk and discuss freely, but that couldn't be, and no amount of wishing would change that. She loved her father and didn't want that feeling to ever leave her. "Daddy, I don't mean to hurt you and I am sorry if what I do causes you pain."
"I just want you to understand that I know how you feel."
Janet forced a smile, knowing that he couldn't. "Yes."
"You must be patient."
How patient? She wanted to ask. He'd been patiently waiting for things to happen in his own life. The day he'd be able to afford a grand house, buy a brand new car, eat in a fine restaurant. But every year remained the same. Even though Mr. Barnett had been to college, he had earned his accounting degree by attending night school for years, money was always tight.
"I will try," Janet said hoping to reassure him.
He stopped at the edge of the street and faced the town. Only a busy four-lane road separated their safe community from the more boisterous downtown. The main crossroads, Main and State streets, resembled any town center, but boasted businesses reflecting their heritage. There was Carib's Restaurant, Dominique's Tailor and Dress Shop, Raj's Curry Shop, Mr. Pinky's Jerk Chicken Stand and The Red Apple, a grocery store that carried food imported from the Caribbean.
"I was in the world once. Not long, but I was tempted briefly." Mr. Barnett looked down at his daughter beseeching her to hear him. In truth he'd been more than tempted; he'd succumbed to his baser nature. He'd only briefly shared his past with his family, but they never knew the full truth. He'd been reckless as a youth. His nickname had been Wild Winston and he'd lived up to it. He drank, danced and smoked—sometimes ganja, sometimes something stronger. Then there were the women. Just the thought of a big breasted woman could fill him with lust. Still could, if he wasn't careful. After he'd returned to the church he'd become strict and disciplined. He was determined that his daughters wouldn't get caught by the kind of man he used to be.
He knew the thoughts of men. Girls in the church had been a favorite of his and his mates. They were pure and virginal—at least most of them—and easy conquests. As long as he kept his daughters safe and close to home they'd never be one of them. "I know you see things on that campus of yours and in this town, but you must remember that their ways are not our ways. You can be among them, but you'll never be one of them. Our traditions keep you safe. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes."
Mr. Barnett patted Janet's hand and his mouth spread into a grin. "Good girl," he said then they crossed the street.
People crowded Pembrose Place, a large indoor market in the middle of town, which was a favorite gathering spot for most of Hamsford's residents. The deep guttural beat of reggae and hip-hop from several speakers blasted above the crowd, and mingled with vendors shouting out the latest prices and the best fish catch of the day. The scent of food drifted through the halls: boiled corn, ackee and saltfish, roti, cornbread, and spiced Jamaican patties. People bought them along with imported drinks among the sound of old talk, new gossip and bartering. This was the order of the day at the market.
Mr. Barnett stopped at Mr. Beecham's vegetable and fruit stand. Mr. Beecham didn't have a memorable face; he boasted only a medium build and thick heavy brows, although his hair was thinning. He was not a member of their church, or any church for that matter, but he was a Jamaican and always had the best selection of organically grown fruits and vegetables, so Mr. Barnett was a faithful customer.
As a boy, Mr. Beecham had grown up working on his father's farm, and while he had never had the opportunity to go to school and study agriculture, he always had interesting creations by growing hybrid vegetables and fruits. Mr. Barnett was about to ask him a question when a voice cut through the crowd. They turned to see a large spiral hat coming towards them.
"What's this peeny thing you give me?" Mother Shea said approaching them. She placed a tomato on the table.
Mr. Beecher sighed, use to Mother Shea's demands. "Is there something wrong?"
"You don't see it's too small?"
"When you buy in bulk the sizes will differ."
"I asked for a bag of tomatoes. Not a bag of peas."
Mr. Beecher grabbed another bigger tomato and handed it to her. "Is that better?"
"Yes, thank you. I truly appreciate your help. You know how I hate to complain."
He reached for the other tomato, but Mother Shea grabbed it first. "I'm sure no one will want this one, it looks a bit damaged and I'd hate for it to spoil." She nodded to Mr. Barnett and Janet then walked off.
Mr. Beecher shook his head. "How come I always lose money when that woman's around?"
"You wouldn't be the first," Mr. Barnett said then asked him about his potatoes.
Janet took the opportunity to wander around the market. She slowed her walk when she spotted the Maliks' market stand. She saw Ramani's cousin, Darika, working and walked over to her not knowing what she would say, but still feeling compelled to go. When Darika saw her, she glanced around
then motioned Janet closer.
"I'm not supposed to talk to you."
"I know," Janet said. "Did you find out anything?"
Darika shook her head.
"Darika!" Mr. Malik said coming from behind the back.
She jumped and returned to work. Mr. Malik walked past Janet as if she didn't exist.
Janet licked her lips. "I hope one day you'll understand," she pleaded to the man she'd known most of her life.
Mr. Malik began folding a piece of fabric.
"Janet!" Mr. Barnett called. She turned and rushed over to her father. He yanked her closer to him. "What were you doing?"
"I just—"
Her explanation was cut short when someone called his name. They turned and saw Brother Jeremiah making his way through the crowd as if no one else existed. That proved easy for him because he was built like a brick building and people stayed out his way for fear of injury. "I have a question," he said brushing Janet aside once he reached them.
Janet took no offense. Except for Mother Shea, the men in their church did not see women as important when it came to making decisions. And she felt proud that people listened to her father's advice.
Mr. Barnett nodded. "Yes, Brother Jeremiah."
"I have a real big problem," Brother Jeremiah gently pulled Mr. Barnett aside. "I made a large contribution to the church, expecting to get money from one of my customers," Brother Jeremiah said referring to his home repair business. "But he's refusing to pay me, and I don't know what to do."
"How much does he owe you?"
"Well, you see, because of some hard times he was having, plus he and his wife have three little children and she's expecting their fourth, I agreed to do some things for him, and—"
"How much does he owe you?" Mr. Barnett interrupted not wanting to suffer through one of Brother Jeremiah's long, detailed stories.
He muttered something.
"I didn't hear you. Speak up."
"Twenty-five hundred dollars," he said a little louder.
"What? How—?"
"We agreed that he would pay me back, weekly, but as I told you, with a baby on the way, and..." He shrugged his massive shoulders, helpless. "I need the money. If Bessie finds out, she gon' kill me!" Brother Jeremiahs' wife Bessie had the look and texture of a cornflake—light brown and brittle—but despite her appearance she could put the fear of God in anyone, and would surely give her husband a month of tongue lashings, if he did not find a solution.
