New Beginnings

by Brenda Barrett

  Justin smiled. “Two skills that seem to have done you well so far.”

  Geneva grimaced. “Who knew, huh? I had a tough upbringing with Rat Face and I could have easily been different, but she always seemed to be sober when it mattered, rescuing me from one scrape or the other.”

  Justin moved closer to her. “I am happy you are in my life, Geneva.”

  Geneva stared at him bemusedly. “What an abrupt change of topic.”

  He cupped her face and stared in her eyes. “You are undoubtedly one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen.”

  She gave him a half-smile and tried to pull away, but he kissed her on the nose and then sat up on the rug. “I did promise to behave myself today.”

  Geneva sat up beside him and stared at the mini-waterfalls in the river. Why did she feel so empty at Justin’s avowals of attraction? Froggie had thought that she would get together with him, and for a while she had been attracted to him. But right now, she just missed Froggie and had an overpowering urge to cry.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Is that all?” Miss Nancy asked as she lifted a bath pan with some clothes hangers and placed it on the verandah. “I could swear that I had more things.” She sighed and looked up at Froggie, who was standing on the top step of the verandah.

  A truck blew black smoke from the muffler as it pulled away, and they both coughed from the resulting fumes. Miss Nancy wiped her eyes with the bandana she had tied around her hand earlier in the day. “I can’t say that I miss town yet, but this is nice.”

  She looked around the quarter-acre land, stretching her neck to see past the three bedroom house. “If we chop down that ackee tree, we can see the sea,” she pointed out to Froggie.

  Froggie just stood on the verandah motionless. The crutch that he used to move around hung loosely from his fingers.

  “Froggie?” Miss Nancy had a look of concern on her face.

  “I am okay, Mama,” Froggie said and shook his head and hobbled to a lone rusty chair.

  “Lord, have mercy,” Miss Nancy said tiredly. “It was your idea to move from town, remember?”

  Froggie nodded.

  “It was also your idea to pretend as if you were dead, remember?” She continued, “It was also your idea to move to St. Ann remember.”

  “I remember,” Froggie said nodding solemnly after each 'remember'.

  Miss Nancy put her hands at her sides and started tapping her feet. “I could barely get the house ready before you had us hightail it out of Kingston. It’s a good thing Miss Norma still lives down the road and can do passable house work, or else we would have to live in Aunt Cherry’s untidy house. How one small woman can be so messy, only God knows.”

  “Are you sure she is not coming back from America till next summer?” Froggie asked, concerned. It was the most convenient location he could think of to escape Kingston. His grand aunt only used the house in the summers, when she came to Jamaica on her yearly vacations. It was also close to the town of Ocho Rios, and he had always dreamed of opening a bar and restaurant in the resort town. His aunt had always wanted them to be caretakers of the property, but they had always refused, until now.

  Froggie sighed. He had to start his life all over from scratch. All his savings had to be plunged into a new venture. He had left Eagle in charge of the bar and restaurant in Kingston with an agreement to split the profits with him. It was a good venture and would keep his friend, the new don, occupied.

  Life was surely going to be much better; he could feel the difference already. Instead of the constant noise, he could actually hear birds chirping. He looked at his mother. She would go anywhere with him and do anything he wanted. Loyal to a fault, she was just taking him to task because of the newness of the environment.

  Neither of them had gone back inside the house since the men who had moved the furniture had dumped the larger pieces where they had requested. They had each chosen a room and a bathroom that were opposite to Aunt Cherry’s middle room. The hall was huge and could accommodate Miss Nancy’s new sofa set. Everywhere else was already furnished, and they had breathed a sigh of relief that they had not needed to carry any appliances or excess furniture.

  Miss Nancy sat on the step. “At least we have plenty of ackee and breadfruit trees. We won't be hungry here.”

  “I wonder what she’s doing now,” Froggie said aloud, a far-away look in his eyes.

  “Minding her own business,” Nancy said abruptly. “Let’s go and unpack. The sooner we get this house straightened out, the sooner we can go and check out the place that Miss Norma said was for rent, so that we can get that restaurant off the ground.”

  “Bar and restaurant,” Froggie corrected her, getting up.

  “Restaurant alone,” Nancy corrected him. “I intend to go to Norma’s church while I'm here. I can’t be associated with a bar.”

  Froggie laughed, looking her over. She was in a tight red shorts and a white t-shirt with red hearts in the middle. Her stilettos were red with gold tips and her box braids were red at the end.

  “Everyone would run if they saw you heading for church.”

  Nancy snorted. “This was my Kingston wear; I bought dresses to wear here. I intend to be a Christian around here. When you were in hospital, I begged God to save you and he did. I promised Him that when you came out I would go to church and be a good Christian girl. Maybe I can even bag a deacon or a parson.”

  Froggie clutched his side in laughter. “You are too funny.”

  “I am still young,” Nancy pointed out to him while going into the house. “I want a good upstanding man, next time around, who has a good job and his own house.”

  Froggie hobbled in behind her. He was trying not to be dependent on the crutches. “Well good luck to you and your husband hunt. Lord knows, you have picked up some really bad ones in the past. I guess we can concentrate on just the restaurant. I have this idea of a club type setting with live reggae music at nights—that should appeal to the tourists and some locals. I can’t imagine having a bar without you running it.”

  “Let us concentrate on good food,” Nancy said, smiling. “Good jerk chicken and things that the tourists will like.”

  “Okay, Sister Nancy,” Froggie joked. “Geneva would crack up if she heard this….” his voice trailed away and his expression saddened. “I'm going to fix up my bed so that I can get some sleep.”

  He crossed the hall on his crutches, his whole body taut with sadness. Miss Nancy looked at him regretfully and headed to her room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Nighty night, Geneva.” Melody pushed her head around her room door. “Ronald is coming tomorrow morning, and Justin is complaining that you are not answering your cell phone.”

  Geneva grunted, “I'm not in the mood to talk to Justin, but I am excited to talk to Ronald.”

  Melody grinned. “So is Mother dearest.” She groaned, “I have to go, I'm having an online affair. I just heard a ping; that means I got a message. See you tomorrow.”

  She closed the door and Geneva smiled. She felt as if she had always lived with Melody. Living with her on a daily basis was an eye-opener; the girl was easy-going and unreserved with her emotions. Geneva sometimes wished she were as open and friendly.

  Froggie’s face loomed in her thoughts once more, and she covered her head with the pillow. He was haunting her. She opened her eyes, and under the darkness of the pillow he was still there in her mind’s eye. She remembered the first time they met, when his hands had first touched hers. A slight grin had hovered around his mouth. He had waited patiently for her to remember her name.

  “My name is Geneva.”

  He had heaved a heavy sigh and then grinned. His teeth were even and white like his mother’s, and she was staring at his lips like an awestruck teenager.

  After almost an hour of her awkward mumblings and uncomfortable shuffling, Froggie had painstakingly gotten her life story. The fact that she had nowhere to live had worried him. He asked her to stay at
his place, but she was worried that he would take advantage of her. He had quickly dismissed that notion. She had been so desperate that she readily accepted his help.

  She had been a waitress at the restaurant for three months; he didn’t allow her to dance after the first night. He had mumbled that she wasn't dancing right, but his mother had laughed and said that he was really jealous of the attention that she was getting from the male patrons.

  His possessiveness didn't show in his attitude toward her though. He had treated her like a little sister and ignored her bourgeoning crush on him. He didn’t eat at home and was rarely there, and when he came home, she was usually asleep.

  All that came to a head one night, when a patron at the bar decided that he was not going to take no for an answer when she refused his advances—she had never before seen Froggie so angry. He had trounced the man within an inch of his life and had sent her home crying and confused.

  When he came home he had a look of determination in his eyes. “You are my girl,” he told her forcefully. “I can’t have you working at the bar anymore. Do you understand? I'm sending you back to school.”

  And that was that, the beginning of their intimate relationship. He had made love to her that night with an all-consuming tenderness, making allowance for her inexperience and shyness. She blushed to think about that first experience even in the privacy of her thoughts. Geneva sighed and grabbed the pillow from her face.

  She couldn't accept Froggie’s death. She should feel empty, but instead there was a feeling of expectation that one day she would wake up and hear that it was all a joke. Maybe if she went to his grave she would have some closure. She shuddered to think about that and tried to concentrate on something else.

  “Sleeping beauty has deigned to grace us with her presence,” Pamela said acerbically as Geneva, looking heavy-eyed, sat down at the table for breakfast.

  Melody grinned. “I went to my bed quite late too, talking to my Internet buddy.”

  Pamela snorted, “What a pointless activity, Melody. You do realize that you might be talking to a woman, or a restless child.”

  “I got pictures,” Melody said excitedly. “And guess what, he is coming to summer classes at the university. I'm going to get to meet him.”

  “How does he look?” Geneva asked excitedly.

  “Like Shemar Moore. Remember him? That guy from the soap The Young and The Restless.”

  Pamela rolled her eyes.

  Geneva grinned. “He was fine.”

  “I hope he is legitimate and not a child playing a hoax on you,” Pamela said to Melody. Then she turned to Geneva. “You are moping all over the place about this dead gangster from the ghetto. Justin has been trying to reach you since your picnic and you haven't answered his calls.”

  Geneva bit her lips in silence and tried to hold back the tears that threatened to fall; she was still raw from staying up all night thinking about Froggie.

  “He is not a gangster,” she replied hoarsely to Pamela.

  Pamela laughed meanly. “Oh yes, he was. He might have been a little better looking than what one would expect from his picture, but he was still a gangster. Stop mourning him and move on. Justin is a respectable gentleman with good family connections, just the sort of background you should be looking for.”

  “Look who is here,” Melody squealed as Ronald entered the breakfast area.

  Geneva looked up and so did Pamela. “Oh, Ronald dear, have a seat,” she said, indicating a chair across from her.

  “Good morning, ladies.” Ronald sat down and involved them in an interesting conversation about his businesses abroad. He was a restaurateur who owned Jamaican restaurants in five different states. He was a five-time divorcee and found the antics of his ex-wives very funny. He was talking about his last wife who had been an interior decorator, and had decorated his house in shades of grey with splashes of red.

  “She called it designer stripes.”

  Everyone was laughing, even Pamela. The sight was such an unusual one for Geneva that she put down her muffin and stared in awe.

  Ronald saw her looking and said, “Geneva don’t look so appalled. Pamela is human too.”

  Pamela stopped laughing and looked askance at him. “I guess I don’t laugh as much as I used to.”

  “Not since Marie,” Ronald said and shook his head.

  “Marie?” Geneva asked puzzled.

  “My sister,” Pamela replied and wiped her eyes and looked at them. “My little sister, Marie. She ran away from Mom and Dad and came to live here with Stanley and me. She said that she was being abused by my father. I didn’t believe her at first, but I let her stay anyway.”

  “Hold on a second,” Melody interjected. “Not Grandpa. He was the opposite of Grandma. He was the best grandfather there was.”

  “Can you remember ever being alone with him?” Pamela asked.

  “No.” Melody shook her head.

  “My mother never got over the fact that her husband molested her younger daughter.”

  “That’s why she is so mean,” Melody said and got up from the bar stool and sat around the table.

  “Why are you so mean?” Geneva asked Pamela pointedly. “What’s your excuse?”

  “What happened to Marie?” Melody asked at the same time.

  Ronald cleared his throat and Pamela closed her eyes. “The summer I found out I was pregnant with you, Melody. I went to America to shop. When I came back my sister was gone.”

  “Without a trace?” Geneva asked incredulously.

  Pamela opened her eyes and looked at Geneva. “Yes, I tried to find her, but to no avail.”

  Ronald smiled. “At sixteen, you could see that she was going to be a beauty. Long legs, clear eyes, strong teeth.”

  Geneva laughed. “Good neigh?”

  Ronald looked puzzled.

  “As in horse,” Geneva said as Melody snickered. “You sounded like you were describing a horse or a donkey.”

  Ronald grinned. “I just bought a horse, a thoroughbred; that’s why I had to go back after the pageant. I guess my adjectives got crossed. At least I didn’t say shiny coat.”

  Pamela looked reproachfully at him. “Marie was a great sister. For a long time I blamed my father for her disappearance, but he obviously wasn’t responsible. My parents were away at the time she disappeared.”

  “What about Dad?” Melody asked. “Didn’t he know where she had gone?”

  Pamela shook her head. “He had no clue. He went to work, and when he came back she was gone.”

  Ronald shifted in his seat. “Speaking about Stanley.”

  Geneva leaned forward. “Do you know who my mother was?”

  Ronald cleared his throat and glanced at Pamela’s hardening expression. “No, I have no idea. He never confided anything about that to me, Geneva. I am so sorry.”

  Geneva leaned back and sighed. “I just want to know. This whole business is mysterious to me.”

  “Didn’t your mother give you any ideas?” Ronald asked earnestly, surreptitiously glancing at a now fidgeting Pamela.

  “No.” Geneva sighed.

  “She should have,” Pamela said sarcastically. “Why she didn’t try to make a fortune from Stanley, I don’t know. The home wrecker should have made her move when she was alive.”

  “My mother was no home wrecker,” Geneva said to Pamela. “She didn’t wreck your home.”

  Ronald cleared his throat and Pamela, who was about to go into a tirade, looked over at him and smiled. “I get carried away sometimes.”

  Ronald held out his hands to her. “Pick you up at six tonight for dinner at Norma’s on the Terrace.”

  Pamela rose from the table and he followed her, a look of worshipful submission on his face.

  “Of course, Ronald dear,” Pamela said girlishly. “It will be a pleasure to escape from this torturous work that I have been under, trying to get Stanley’s by-blow acceptable to the world.”

  Geneva growled, “I am not a by-blow.”

/>   Pamela swept out of the room with Ronald hot on her heels. He turned back and looked at Geneva. “No, you are not. It is my pleasure to meet you, and we will be seeing quite a bit of each other in the future.”

  Geneva waved as he left the room.

  Melody had her hand over her mouth and was quietly laughing. “I am sorry,” she huffed. “Ronald and my mother have always been playing cat and mouse with each other.”

  “I think he knows something,” Geneva said quietly. “He didn’t want to say it because Pamela was here.”

  Melody shook her head. “My mother was not in love with my father, trust me. Anything she hears about your mother would not be a matter of jealousy but pride.”

  “What are you doing today?” Geneva asked Melody.

  “Talking to SexyBlack.”

  “Carry your computer and talk to him at the library.”

  “Why?” Melody looked intrigued.

  “I have research to do on Rachel Green.”

  “Who is that?” Melody asked, puzzled.

  “My mother,” Geneva said exasperatedly, standing up. “It might be possible that in some newspaper archive she is mentioned somewhere.”

  “You can do that on the Internet, or hire a detective,” Melody stressed to Geneva. “We do not have to go anywhere. You are rich, remember.”

  “Oh yes, we have to go,” Geneva said sternly. “I'm giving you three minutes to get ready, or I am going to have to drive myself with only five lessons under my belt. I don’t think you want me to chance it.”

  ****

  Melody parked at the library and slipped on her sunglasses, looking at Geneva apprehensively. “I have never been in one of those places.”

  Geneva grinned. “Impossible, every Jamaican child is familiar with the public library.”

  “Not me,” Melody said, opening her door. “I have no idea how the inside looks.”

  Geneva smiled. “Well, there are monsters and demons and angels. Don’t worry though, I will protect you.”