Best Kept Secrets

by Rochelle Alers

  Samuel’s eyes narrowed under the shade of his Panama hat as he peered out at what had been a thriving coffee plantation. Heavy rainfall had caused mudslides, sending plants, trees and houses sliding down the mountain into the valleys.

  “Can you plant somewhere else?” he asked Rodolfo.

  “There is some land in the Yauco region that is good for coffee,” Teresa said. “He says Yauco is southwest of here, not far from Lares.” She stopped, listening to Rodolfo, who tended to speak very fast. “The mountain location is ideal because the temperate climate offers a longer maturation period.”

  “What’s the time frame?”

  “October to February.”

  Samuel nodded, smiling. October was toward the end of the hurricane season. “Good. What else?”

  “The clay-based soil is good for growing coffee. We employ a system of picking only ripe beans, which requires multiple passes through the coffee trees.”

  Samuel nodded again. “What’s your time frame for processing?”

  “Once the beans are picked, they are drum-washed for forty-eight hours. But then we run on a husk-until-shipment basis. The beans are dehusked only after an order has been placed. We do this to guarantee maximum freshness.”

  Closing his eyes, Samuel quickly figured the yield. He opened his eyes and stared at the tall, brown-skinned man with coal-black hair and eyes. “I want you to negotiate purchasing the land in Lares. And I don’t want maximum production to exceed one thousand hundred-pound bags for the next three years.”

  Rodolfo’s eyes bulged from their sockets. “That’s a lot less than what we would’ve harvested if not for the hurricane.”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Samuel smiled at Teresa. “Tell him that I’m basing my decision on supply and demand. A coffee of this quality will bring a higher price if we don’t flood the market. It’s not Jamaica Blue Mountain, which is the world’s best coffee, but very close to it.”

  “What about the workers?”

  “What about them?” Samuel asked. “Right now none of them are working. Rehire those whom you believe are the best, and give the others two weeks’ pay.”

  Rodolfo took off his battered straw hat, holding it over his heart. “These are poor peasants, Mr. Cole. If you give them an extra week’s pay I’m certain God will bless you abundantly.”

  Shifting slightly, so Rodolfo couldn’t see his expression, Samuel exhaled. He couldn’t believe his agent was trying to fleece him. He turned back, his expression impassive. “Miss Maldonado, please tell Senor Hernandez that I agree to paying the laid-off workers three weeks’ pay. But if I find out that they did not get what they’re supposed to get, then I’m coming back and blowing his brains out. Tell him, Teresa,” he urged when she looked at him if as if he’d lost his mind.

  “Samuel, no,” she whispered.

  “Tell him, or I will, Miss Maldonado.” The threat was issued between clenched teeth.

  Teresa laced her fingers together to hide their trembling. She cleared her throat and repeated what Samuel told her to say. She felt sorry for the agent, who stared down at the toes of his muddy boots.

  “Let him know we’re ready to go back to San Juan.”

  Samuel stared out the car window rather than look at the young woman sitting beside him in a pair of trousers, work boots and an oversize shirt. They were halfway to San Juan, and he still couldn’t bring himself to talk to her. He had to wait until his temper cooled. Closing his eyes, he succumbed to the rolling motion. He forgot why he’d come to Puerto Rico, but not the woman to whom he’d given a part of himself that he’d withheld from everyone—including his wife.

  Samuel lounged in the chair, lids lowered as he watched Teresa pace back and forth. “Sit down.”

  She stopped, hands on hips, glaring at him. “Oh. The master speaks.”

  “Stop it, Teresa!”

  “Stop what, Samuel?”

  “Being cynical with me.”

  She threw up a hand. “How do you expect me to be? It’s been more than two hours since you’ve said anything to me.”

  Pushing off the chair, he closed the distance between them. “If I’d said anything it would’ve been to fire you.” He stood over her like an avenging angel. “You challenged me in front of someone to whom I pay a salary.”

  “He couldn’t understand me.”

  “Oh, couldn’t he, Teresa? Did you see his face when I said I’d personally put a bullet through his skull? He reacted even before you translated. He may feel uncomfortable speaking the language, but the man understands English.

  “I will not tolerate anyone cheating me, Chica. I’d rather give away every penny I have than have someone run a con on me. That’s the reason why Everett’s in Costa Rica.” Samuel ran the back of his hand over her cheek. “I’ll forgive you this time, but the—”

  Rising on tiptoe, Teresa pressed her lips to his, stopping his threat. Her tongue curled around his, defusing his anger. “I’m sorry, Samuel. There won’t be a next time.”

  Bending slightly, Samuel picked her up. “Promise?”

  She nodded. “Promesa.”

  He kissed the end of her nose. “This is our last night in Puerto Rico. What do you want to do?”

  Teresa rested her head on his shoulder. “Stay here.”

  “Don’t you want to eat something?”

  “Yes,” she crooned. “We can order something and eat in the courtyard. Then we can come back and…”

  “And do what, Chica?”

  She blushed. “You know, Samuel.”

  “No, I don’t,” he countered, teasing her. “Tell me what it is you want to do.”

  “Have sex,” Teresa whispered.

  “Have sex or make love?”

  “Make love.”

  Samuel lifted his eyebrows. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Very sure.”

  He gave her a direct stare. “From now on I’m going to use a condom with you. I don’t want to get you pregnant.”

  “Condom?” she asked, pretending ignorance.

  Teresa knew about condoms, sperm, semen, ejaculation, conception and contraception. She’d suspected Samuel would use condoms when sleeping with her, but she was ready for him.

  “It’s a sheath that covers the penis made from the lining of sheep intestine. It stops semen from getting into the vagina, thereby preventing pregnancy.”

  Tilting her head back, she smiled up at Samuel. “Will you show me how you put it on?”

  “Once you learn, you can put it on all the time.” He kissed her again. “Even though I like seeing you in trousers, I think you better change. And I’d like you to wear these.”

  Samuel grasped her hand, leading her over to the table. Reaching inside a large straw bag filled with souvenirs, he took out two of the jewelry purchases he’d made in St. Thomas and handed them to her.

  Teresa bit down on her lower lip. “What are you giving me?”

  “Open them and find out.”

  Her hands shook uncontrollably as she opened the top on the flat rectangular box first. “Madre de Dios!” Samuel had had her select her own gift. He’d given her the spectacular strand of pearls and matching earrings. Anchoring her arms under his shoulders, she kissed him.

  Samuel lifted her off her feet, returning the kiss with a passion he hadn’t thought possible. He’d weakened, succumbing to her sensual spell.

  Chapter 27

  Lying is an occupation used by all who mean to rise.

  —Laetitia Pilkington

  Samuel stepped into the entry way and was met with the sound of piano playing. He placed his luggage on a low bench before moving quietly into the living room. A tender smile softened his face. M.J. sat at the piano, her fingers moving fluidly over the keys. The sapphire-and-diamond hair clip he’d given her for their first anniversary sparkled under the light of a massive overhead chandelier.

  On the floor in front of the piano lay Nancy, sucking her thumb, and Martin, who lay on his back staring up at th
e massive chandelier suspended from the thirty-foot ceiling. Martin saw him, his large eyes widening in shock. Samuel placed a finger over his mouth, motioning for him not to say anything. Winking at his son, he crept silently toward M.J., sweeping her off the piano bench.

  M.J. let out a shriek, startling Nancy, who scrambled off the rug. “Sammy!”

  “Daddy!” Nancy squealed, lifting her arms for him to pick her up.

  Smiling broadly, Samuel kissed his wife. Setting her on her feet, he picked up Nancy, tossing her high in the air. She squealed and giggled uncontrollably. He beckoned Martin to come closer. Bending slightly, he scooped him up with his free arm.

  He pressed a kiss to Martin’s forehead, then repeated the gesture with Nancy. Two sets of jet-black eyes stared at him. “Have you been behaving?”

  “Yes, Daddy,” the children chorused.

  Looking over their heads, Samuel met M.J.’s amused gaze. Whenever he went away he missed her, but missed his children more. A clock on a fireplace mantel chimed the half hour. It was 9:30 p.m..

  “You cupcakes are up past your bedtime.”

  “Mother said we could stay up to listen to her play piano,” Martin said as he looked at M.J. to confirm their staying up beyond eight.

  Nancy clapped her hands above her head. “Yes, she did.”

  Catching Nancy’s tiny earlobe between his lips, Samuel tugged at it. “When did you become such a chatterbox?”

  “She should be talking, Samuel. After all, she’s two.”

  Nancy held up two fingers. “I two, Daddy.”

  He lifted his eyebrows, feigning surprise. “Wow. You’re really a big girl. Can you tell me how old your brother is?”

  Leaning forward, Nancy pointed to Martin. “Marwin is four.” She put up four fingers.

  Martin put both arms around his father’s neck. “She can’t say Martin,” he whispered close to Samuel’s ear.

  Samuel winked at his son. “That’s okay,” he whispered back. “She’s still a baby.”

  M.J. crossed her arms under her breasts, wondering how Samuel was going to react when she told him what she’d suspected for some time. She was pregnant again.

  “Please take them upstairs, Samuel. They’re going to have to take a bath before getting into bed.”

  “I’ll take care of them, M.J.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Samuel nodded. “Yes.”

  She smiled. “If that’s the case, then I’m going to bed.”

  He watched M.J. as she made her way toward the staircase, his gaze lingering on her slender figure. She’d become the perfect wife and the perfect mother. Shifting his children to a more comfortable position, he climbed the staircase to the second story.

  Samuel washed Nancy and assisted her in brushing her teeth before he slipped a nightgown over her head. She was asleep before her head touched the pillow in her crib. He stood, staring down at her delicate features. She was no longer wearing diapers. It was time he bought her a bed. He dimmed a lamp, closed the bedroom door slightly and walked down the hall to Martin’s room.

  His son had undressed himself and stood on a stool at the basin brushing his teeth. A smile tilted the corners of Samuel’s mouth upward when he saw him fill a cup with water and rinse his mouth, followed by a loud cough.

  Samuel filled the tub with water, testing the temperature. He anchored his arms under the boy’s shoulders and lowered him into the water.

  “Do you want me to wash you, or can you wash yourself?”

  Martin’s large dark eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Mother lets me wash myself.”

  Samuel nodded, backing up and sitting on a padded stool several feet from the claw-foot tub. “I’m going to sit here and supervise you. Don’t forget your neck or the back of your ears.”

  Martin rolled his eyes upward. “You sound like Mother.”

  “That’s because mothers and fathers aren’t that different.”

  “Why do you go away and Mother stays home?”

  The child’s question caught Samuel off guard. Had Martin overheard them arguing about his business trip? “I go away because I have to make money to take care of you, Nancy and your mother. It also takes a lot of money to keep this house nice.”

  “When can I go away with you, Daddy?”

  Leaning forward, he smiled at Martin staring up at him with an expectant look on his face. “You really want to travel with me?”

  “Yes.”

  A feeling of pride filled Samuel’s chest. His relationship with his son was so different from the one he’d had with his father. He never had to raise his voice or his hand to him. And he prayed he never would.

  “When you’re thirteen I’ll take you with me.”

  Martin nodded and rubbed his chest with a soap-filled cloth. He washed his body the way his mother had taught him. Rising to his feet, he extended his arms for his father to help him from the bathtub.

  Ten minutes later he lay in bed, smiling up at Samuel. “Good night, Daddy.”

  Leaning over, Samuel kissed him on both cheeks. “Good night, son.” Reaching over, he turned off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

  He used one of the guest bedrooms to shower, because if M.J. was asleep, then he didn’t want to wake her. There was something to be said for building a house with four bedroom suites, each with an adjoining bath, sitting and dressing room.

  Samuel hadn’t lied to his son. His expenses for maintaining this house were twice what they’d been for the one in Palm Grove Oval. Electric expenses had tripled, and instead of paying Bessie to clean the house, M.J. had added the services of a full-time cook, a laundress and a landscaping crew for her many gardens. He had to leave the country to oversee his investments. If not, then he would be left penniless.

  Securing a towel around his hips, he walked out of the bedroom and into his own. M.J. was in bed, a mound of pillows supporting her back. He smiled. She’d waited up for him.

  Sweeping back the sheet, she smiled. “Come, mi amor.”

  Samuel undid the towel, left it on the floor next to the bed, and slipped in beside her. Wrapping his arms around his wife, he pulled her to lie atop him. Her sweet scent wafted in his nostrils as he nuzzled her neck.

  “I’ve missed you.”

  She kissed his throat. “Not as much as I’ve missed you.” Resting her chin on his breastbone, she stared down at him. “I have something to tell you.”

  There was something in her voice that made Samuel’s heart race. “What is it?”

  “We’re going to have another baby.”

  He froze and nothing moved. Not even his eyes. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “Yes. The doctor called and told me this afternoon.”

  “When are you due?”

  “The middle of February.”

  Closing his eyes, he kissed her hair. Something unspoken told him that M.J. had to know she was pregnant before he left for Puerto Rico. The time he found her throwing up she’d blamed it on something she’d eaten when she knew it was morning sickness.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Okay.”

  “Just okay, baby?”

  “Not really. The doctor cautioned me about heavy lifting.”

  “What else, M.J.?”

  She closed her eyes, not wanting to see his tight expression. “We can’t have sexual intercourse for at least three months.”

  Samuel’s breathing deepened. “What’s wrong, baby?” He didn’t care if she could hear the fear in his voice.

  “Nothing, Sammy.”

  Reversing their position, he supported his weight on his arms. “You can’t lift, we can’t make love, and you tell me there’s nothing wrong?”

  M.J. knew she couldn’t continue to conceal her doctor’s concern for this confinement. “I’ve been bleeding.”

  “Bleeding!”

  “It’s more like spotting. It happens if I’m on my feet for long periods of time, or after I pick up Nancy.”

  “You’re n
ot to pick up anything heavier than a fork, Marguerite-Josefina. I’m going to hire someone to take care of the children when I’m not here. I’ll change my hours and come home early enough to bathe the kids and put them to bed.”

  “No, Sammy! I will not have another woman raise my children.”

  Running his fingers through her loosely braided hair, Samuel kissed the end of her nose. “She’s not going to raise them. She’s just going to help you out.”

  M.J. shook her head. “No, Samuel. I will not have a strange woman telling my children what they can and cannot do.”

  Samuel brushed a kiss over her mouth. “Please be reasonable, M.J. Do you want this baby?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then let me help you out.”

  “No strange woman, Samuel.”

  “How about my mother?”

  M.J.’s eyebrows lifted. “What about her?”

  “Would you agree to let her come and stay until you’re stronger?”

  “Of course.”

  “That settles it,” he said, rolling off her body and reaching for the telephone on his side of the bed. Samuel watched his wife watching him as he dialed the number for Tallahassee. “Hello, Mama,” he said softly into the mouthpiece when Belinda Cole answered the call. “I’m sorry to call you so late, but I have something I need to ask you.”

  “What is it?”

  “Do you have anything planned for the next two or three months?”

  There was a pause before Belinda asked, “What do you want, Samuel?”

  “M.J. is expecting again, and the doctor says she has to take it easy. And that includes not lifting anything—especially Nancy. I’m going to rearrange my work schedule to spend more time at home, but when I’m not here I need someone M.J. can get along with.” He ignored her when she rolled her eyes at him. “I’ve offered to hire someone to take care of the children, but your daughter-in-law won’t have it.”

  “I have to agree with her, Samuel. Give me a few days to close up the house, and I’ll be there probably before the end of the week.”

  “You don’t have to come now. I’m going to take some time off and stay home. And I know you want to be in Tallahassee when Eugenia has her baby.” Thomas and Eugenia were expecting their fourth child within the span of five years.