The Jumbies

by Tracey Baptiste

  “You will be at the market again?” Corinne asked as she squeezed more water out of her hair into a towel.

  Severine glided out into the darkness. “Yes, you will see me again.”

  13

  Something Good to Eat

  As Corinne walked through the market the next morning, she heard talk of Severine on everyone’s lips.

  “Did you see that woman in the green yesterday? I wonder if she will be back,” said the woman with flaky skin.

  “You think anyone missed a woman like that? The real question is, where is she coming back from?” said her friend, narrowing her pebble eyes. “No one seems to know anything about her.” To a customer, she said, “It’s fifteen for that hand of figs you’ve been touching up for the last five minutes.” The customer sucked her teeth, chups, and moved on.

  “When you are so pretty, everyone notices, eh?” flaky skin said.

  “Everyone noticed her but nobody knows her. No one is her friend. No one is her family. Who are her people? It’s very strange. Anyway, she probably won’t be back today. She only seemed interested in the witch.”

  “But did you see the witch today?”

  “Yes, her arm looks bad,” said pebble eyes.

  “It’s a wonder she doesn’t have some potions for that.”

  Corinne passed all the talk and spread out her cloth and arranged her oranges. She took a quick glance at the white witch, who was sitting with her eyes closed beneath her tree as though she was sleeping.

  Dru’s mother cleared her throat and said, “Morning, Corinne.”

  “Morning, Mrs. Rootsingh.”

  Mrs. Rootsingh darted her eyes at the witch and then back to Corinne. “You have no need of what she’s selling, you hear me?” Mrs. Rootsingh said firmly.

  Corinne nodded. After what had happened the day before, she wanted nothing to do with the witch. She carefully positioned herself out of the witch’s line of sight. Dru peeked around her mother’s sari and Corinne waved her over.

  “You won’t believe who came to my house yesterday,” Corinne whispered.

  “Who?”

  “The woman in green. The same one from yesterday. Her name is Miss Severine.”

  Dru frowned. “Why would she go to your house?”

  “My papa said she just ducked in because of the rain. I don’t think she went there on purpose.”

  “Is your house on the main road?” Dru asked.

  “No, but they were walking together from the sea.”

  “Did she have fish?”

  “No,” Corinne said.

  “Who goes down to a fishing village and doesn’t get some fish?” Dru asked.

  Corinne shrugged. “Papa said she got there too late.”

  Dru’s mother tucked a few long strands of hair behind her ear and cocked her head. The girls could tell she was trying to listen.

  “Who is she, anyway?” Dru whispered.

  “I don’t know,” Corinne answered quietly.

  “Nobody around the market knows who she is or where she’s from,” Dru said.

  “They can’t know everyone who lives on the island, can they? I’ve lived here my whole life, and we never met before yesterday. And there are plenty of reasons to go to the sea besides the fish.”

  The girls looked up as a commotion started at one of the market entrances. Quick murmurs started up. Severine had returned. She walked directly to Corinne with a smile.

  “Hello again,” Severine said. She held out some coins.

  Corinne wore a smug look, mainly for the benefit of pebble eyes and her friend flaky skin. “Hello, Miss Severine,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Which ones would you like?”

  “You pick. I know they’re all very good.”

  Corinne made a big show of choosing her best-looking, roundest, ripest oranges. Severine wrapped them and placed them into a woven basket that was hanging from her arm. All around them, women covered their conversations behind their hands, but it was obvious whom they were talking about as their eyes darted between Severine and Corinne. Dru raised her eyebrows at Corinne, as if she was urging her to do something. Corinne understood.

  “It’s a beautiful day today,” Corinne said. “You won’t have to worry about the rain on a day like this.”

  “Yes, it’s a nice day for a walk,” Severine replied.

  “Do you have a long way back to your house?”

  “No, not far,” Severine said.

  “Then it shouldn’t be any problem to get a lot of things.”

  “I suppose I could.”

  “What else will you be getting?” Corinne asked.

  “I didn’t manage to get any fish yesterday,” Severine said. “But I think today I will have better luck.” She smiled.

  Dru and Corinne exchanged a quick look.

  …

  That afternoon, when Corinne got home from the market, she wasn’t entirely surprised to see Severine there. But she remembered Dru’s questions about the woman, and a little seed of worry planted itself in her chest.

  Severine stood in the kitchen fussing over a pot. Near her, the back door hung open, and Corinne saw her father just outside cleaning some fish from a pail. Corinne sniffed at the air and made a face. “What are you doing, Miss Severine?” she asked.

  “I offered to make dinner. It is the least I could do after taking up so much of your time and your father’s yesterday,” Severine said.

  Corinne felt the worry in her chest begin to grow. But she smiled. “You shouldn’t cook,” she said. “You are our guest.” She got between Severine and the stove and peered in.

  Severine tried to gently move her aside. “I insist on it,” she said. “Besides, it’s the woman who does the cooking in a family.”

  Corinne’s chest tightened at Severine’s words. She leaned over the pot and inhaled its scent. It didn’t smell right. It didn’t smell like any food she knew. Something about the dish was off. Something about Severine was off too. Without a word, Corinne snatched up two dishcloths, grabbed the pot from the fire, and threw its contents out the back door. Severine’s mouth dropped open with shock and then closed again in a straight, angry line.

  “Hey!” Pierre jumped out of the way just in time to see the contents of the steaming pot tumble down the hill.

  “That’s not the way Papa likes it,” Corinne said. She shook her head at Severine as if she should have known better. “I’m going to have to start all over again with a clean pot.” Corinne washed out the pot, refilled it with water, and put it back on the fire. Since everything Severine had used was now sliding down to the fishing village, Corinne went to the yard to pick some vegetables and then added a few she had bought at market. “Sit. I can do this alone,” she told Severine.

  Pierre stepped inside briefly and hissed in Corinne’s ear, “Did you have to throw out her food? It didn’t smell so bad. Maybe you could have just fixed it.” He made a nervous smile at Severine.

  “I think you don’t cook too much, Miss Severine,” Corinne said. “But maybe I can show you a few things?”

  “Since she started doing the cooking a year ago, she’s barely let me touch the stove,” Pierre added. “She thinks everyone’s a terrible cook except for her. The thing is, she’s probably right.” He nodded his head at a chair. “Just sit and watch,” he said. He went back out to the fish, but he moved close enough to the open door for Corinne to see him—and for him to see her.

  Severine returned Pierre’s smile and sat down. Corinne felt Severine’s eyes on her as she cut the sweet potatoes and the tomatoes, chopped the cilantro, and grated the ginger. Then Corinne tossed them all into the pot and stirred.

  As she cooked, the sharp, sweet smell of the ginger, tomato, and sweet potatoes rose out of the pot and filled the entire house. Corinne began to relax. She did not mind Severine looking at her as she worked. Corinne remembered the way Dru’s mother watched Dru and her at the market, and she thought that was what mothers did. They watched. The worry that w
as growing in her began to fade.

  Pierre continued to clean the fish. The kingfish’s silvery body was limp in his hands, and the scales fell to the ground like transparent leaves as he scraped them with his knife. He cut it open and took out the bones and the guts and lay the fish flat and open for Corinne to cook. Corinne washed the fish, then filled its insides with herbs and squeezed oranges over it before she took it to the fire.

  “How long ago did Corinne lose her mother, Pierre?” Severine asked.

  Pierre looked up at the first star that lit up the purple sky. “Corinne was still very young. Her mother had always been sick, you know, delicate, like she didn’t really belong with us. I guess it shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it was.”

  “It must have been hard to manage with such a small child and you alone.”

  “The other fishermen’s wives were happy to take care of her when I was on the sea. And I took her out with me when I could, but Corinne has no love for the blue like me.” He winked at Corinne.

  “You must have been lonely yourself,” Severine said.

  The fish sizzled, so if Pierre answered, Corinne didn’t hear it.

  “I have been alone for a long time myself,” Severine said. “How well does she remember her mother?”

  Pierre pointed at the wax statue. “That is her mother. Exact. She remembers. I won’t let her forget.”

  Severine turned toward Corinne. “It must be hard for you without her here.” When Corinne passed near Severine to pull one of the spices out of a cupboard, Severine reached out and touched her arm.

  Something about the feel of Severine’s skin against her own, and the way she leaned in, probing Corinne’s face, made Corinne stiffen. “Do you go to the witch often, Miss Severine?” Corinne asked.

  “Corinne!” Pierre said with alarm.

  Corinne looked down to avoid her father’s glare, but continued anyway. “My friend Dru says that people only go to the witch to get magic for their problems.”

  “Corinne, stop!” Pierre said. “I’m so sorry,” he said to Severine. “Why don’t you step outside a minute? It’s a little too hot in the kitchen.”

  Severine joined Pierre in the backyard. The two of them looked out over the ocean while Corinne watched from the open door.

  “I understand why you love the sea, Pierre,” Severine said. “It is beautiful.” Their spot on the hill gave them a wide view of the sea, where the waves had turned orange with the final rays of the sun.

  “You’re right, Severine. It can be lonely on the sea,” Pierre said.

  “On land too,” Severine replied.

  Pierre and Severine looked at each other. Severine reached her hand out to Pierre.

  Corinne darted to the door and yelled, “Finished!” She saw Severine pull her hand back.

  “That was fast,” Pierre said.

  “I’m a fast cook,” Corinne said.

  The three had dinner by lamplight, and that night, as her father put her to bed, Corinne could see in his face that he was thinking about the evening. She remembered how the creases around his eyes deepened with pleasure when the three of them sat talking.

  “It’s nice having a lady around again,” Pierre said.

  “She’s not like Mama,” Corinne said.

  “No. No one is like your mama. I meant that—”

  “I know, Papa. I miss her too.” She reached up and hugged him around his neck. She didn’t know what to think about Severine, but she couldn’t remember the last time her father had looked so happy. “Do you like her, Papa?”

  “I think I do.”

  Severine made Corinne feel strange. But her papa was a good judge of people. “Then I will try to like her. For you.” Still, her heart beat fast with worry.

  14

  Cut

  After market the following day, Corinne set off alongside of Bouki, with Malik close behind and Dru last in line. The brothers were showing off the red hills where they lived; the ground rose sharply and the rocks were often loose, making it just treacherous enough to keep most of the island out. The sun had sucked away all the water from the recent rain. There was hardly anything wet on the island. Even the leaves on the trees hung limp. The boys shot down a couple of juicy pomeracs to help with their thirst.

  They crunched through the bright pink pomerac skin to the sweet, white flesh inside, tossing the big round seeds behind them as they walked. After about four, Bouki spoke up. “How do you like your new mother, Corinne? She’s visited your house two days in a row. If she’s there again tonight, watch out. She’s going to take over.”

  Corinne wiped her mouth against her sleeve. “She’s not my mother. I run my own house,” she said.

  Malik began to snicker.

  Bouki answered, “Not for long you don’t. Now if she were ugly, you’d stand a chance.” He tossed a seed and pulled another pomerac out of his pocket.

  “My father doesn’t need her,” Corinne said.

  “Oh, sure, he doesn’t need her. Who needs a woman, eh brother? Especially a pretty one.”

  “She is pretty.” Dru nodded. “I heard my mother say so too. She called her beauty ‘rare.’”

  Malik pointed to the sky and dove his finger down.

  Bouki said, “My brother thinks you should be extra careful with this one since she just dropped out of the sky.”

  Corinne sighed. “How do you know that a lady won’t scoop up the two of you one day? You could get a mother, too, you know.”

  “I’ve told you before,” Bouki said. “We don’t need a mother.”

  “Even a pretty one?” Corinne teased.

  “Least of all one of those. The pretty ones are bad business.”

  “Not all the pretty ones!” Dru said. “But that Severine appeared out of nowhere. Don’t you think it’s strange? Why doesn’t your father think so? And how come she isn’t in her own house making her own dinner?”

  The troubling little feeling in Corinne’s chest grew again, but she held her chin up. “My papa doesn’t think it’s strange. He knows what he’s doing.”

  “The adults are always pairing up. It’s truly sad,” Bouki said with a shake of his head.

  Corinne turned on him. “My mama and papa were together all the time. They weren’t sad a day in their lives when she was . . . before she . . . well, they were never sad.”

  “And my parents are together all the time too,” Dru added. “They don’t look sad either. What’s so wrong with pairing off?”

  “Who wants to be with the same person all the time?” Bouki asked.

  Malik snorted and nodded in agreement.

  “Maybe nobody wants to pair up with the likes of you, Bouki,” Corinne said.

  Malik grinned.

  “Ho. Ho. You two are comic.” Bouki grabbed the end of Corinne’s shirt and tried to pull her off-balance, but Corinne twisted around and pulled away from his grip. He ran before she could give him a shove.

  “You’re all by yourself, and you’re slow!” she called, tossing her pomerac seed and dashing off after him.

  Bouki and Corinne ran to the top of a high rocky ridge. Bouki ran nimbly over the uneven surface. But Corinne was determined to beat him at his game. She was close behind. Suddenly, Bouki stopped.

  “See that?” he asked.

  “Don’t try to trick me,” Corinne said. She was nearly on him now.

  “No, look.” He pointed into the valley at the white witch bent over what looked like a small iron pot.

  “What is she doing?” Corinne asked, stopping beside him and catching her breath.

  “I don’t want to find out,” Bouki said. He narrowed his eyes and began to back away slowly. “They say she can turn people into animals.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “They say she’s more than two hundred years old.”

  “Impossible!” Corinne said with a laugh. Her laugh echoed around the valley, and the witch looked around, trying to pinpoint where it had come from.

  Bouki dropp
ed to the ground. “You’d better hide,” he whispered.

  At first, Corinne didn’t budge. But when the white witch began to turn in their direction, Corinne remembered that day at the river when the witch had called her stupid and told her to go home to her mother. A strange, cold feeling came over her. She dropped to the ground. As she fell, a sharp rock sliced her leg open, and Corinne screamed as pain shot through her.

  Bouki scrambled over to Corinne and put a dirt-and pomerac-stained hand over her mouth to muffle the sound. Once she stopped, he helped her back down the hill.

  Dru gasped. “That looks awful!” she said.

  Corinne looked at the blood covering her leg. “It’s not so bad,” she said in a brave voice. But when she tried to walk without Bouki’s help, a jolt of pain made her cry out and fall again.

  Malik pulled off his brother’s cloth belt to bandage the deep gash. Corinne would have protested at the dirty cloth, but words wouldn’t form in her mouth. With the cloth tied securely around her leg, Bouki and Dru ducked their heads under Corinne’s arms and hoisted her up. They were going to carry her home.

  It was after dark when they arrived. Every step hurt Corinne more and more. She felt weak and cold. As soon as they reached the path to Corinne’s house, her papa burst through the front door. He scooped up Corinne and took her inside. Dru and the boys followed to explain what had happened.

  Dru untied the piece of cloth that was around Corinne’s wound. She tried to hand it back to Bouki, but he held his palm up and turned his face away. Dru sighed. “I told them that running around the island was dangerous, but they would never listen to me.”

  Pierre nodded. “Thanks for bringing her home. Just lie back, Corinne. I’m going to go get some water to wash the cut.”

  Corinne lay back against the couch, while Pierre hurried from the room.

  That was when Severine stepped toward them. “Let me take a look,” she said.

  Corinne had not noticed Severine was there. As Severine came forward, Corinne’s muscles tightened. Dru and the brothers took a step back, looking at each other with wary eyes, but Corinne had nowhere to go.