Jamaica Dreaming (Caribbean Heat) (9 page)

“Wow,” she laughed uncertainly, her fingers rising to her mouth.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t––.” She wasn’t ready for this, for him.

“I liked it. I like being kissed by you.”

He went to kiss her again but she reared back. “I like it, but it’s not a good idea.”

“Of course,” he said, trying to dampen his desire and to ignore all the other feelings roiling in him. “Because of your fiancé.” He steered her off the floor and back to the VIP section.

“Yes.” Her voice grew stronger. “It’s not a good idea because of Earle. I’m very sorry. I like you and I like spending time with you.” Her expression grew hunted. “If I wasn’t already taken…”

“Right.” Sebastian felt so miserable he couldn’t even look her in the eyes.

“Perhaps you should take me back to Strawberry Hill,” she said gently.

“Of course.” He didn’t feel capable of saying anything else. Everything had been going so well and then he’d spoilt it.

In the SUV, the silence between them was as thick as a solid presence. He put on the radio but a Beres Hammond love song came on so he switched to his iPod and allowed his favorite Mavado tunes to fill the air.

At Strawberry Hill, he got out to walk her to her villa.

“Would you…” She seemed to steel herself to continue. “I mean, do you think you still want me to come to the horseraces?”

“Yes, I do.” He’d had time while he drove to reflect and now he realized that what he’d seen as a defeat in his determination to win her was merely a setback. She said she liked him and she’d kissed him back. Yes, she’d put the brakes on, more than once, too, but so what? She’d only known him a few days. He’d waited so long to be near her, he could wait some more. The Bob Marley line came to mind but it wasn’t even three years yet, like in the song. He would wait some more. He wouldn’t give up.

“Nothing about tonight has changed the fact that I’d like to spend more time with you,” he told her. She might have qualms, but Sebastian wanted it to be clear he had none and he planned to continue his pursuit.

“Even though I can’t…we won’t….” She pushed the key in the lock and opened the door to her villa unable to complete the sentence.

“Even though,” he said, firmly. He leaned in and kissed her quickly on the lips before spinning on his heels and walking back down the path. “See you Saturday,” he called out over his shoulder.

The hotel phone began ringing just as Julissa stepped out of the shower the next morning. She picked it up, wondering who it could be.

“Hello, Julissa?”

“Yes?” Julissa didn’t immediately recognize the man’s voice.

“It’s Winston Joseph.”

“Oh, good morning.” Julissa hadn’t expected to hear from the head of the Ananda Alert program until the concert in Ocho Rios.

“A twelve year–old girl went missing here in Kingston yesterday afternoon. She didn’t return home after school and no–one’s seen her.”

“Oh, no.” The news shocked her despite everything she’d read about the island’s missing children. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“An Ananda Alert’s been issued but we were wondering….” The man’s voice trailed off.

“Yes?”

“If, maybe, you’
d agree to make a personal appeal this morning. On television. It’s just that, you see, the quicker she’s found, the higher the chances she’ll be alive and possibly unhurt.”

“Of course. Yes. I’ll do it.” Julissa couldn’t imagine the despair of her family. “I came to Jamaica to help.”

Mr. Joseph breathed a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you so much. I spoke to Sebastian first, but he said it was your decision to make, that it would be going beyond the terms of your contract.”

“Please,” Julissa broke in. “I’m happy to do it and I’m glad you asked. What exactly do you need me to do?”

“Well, Lori can take you to Television Jamaica where we’ll do the taping. Her mother and stepfather will be there and perhaps other relatives.”

“What was her name?”

“Sorry?”

“The girl’s name.”

“Joyce Dougan. They call her Joycie or just Joy. I’ll let Sebastian know so he can speak to Lori about collecting you at nine. The taping is at nine thirty.”

“I’ll be ready.”

An hour and a half later, Julissa was in the BMW being driven into Kingston.

“It’s nice of you to do the appeal,” Lori said with a sidelong glance at Julissa.

Julissa grimaced. “Twelve years old.” She shook her head. “Just a baby. Do you think––?” She found it hard to put it into words. “I reread the information about missing children in Jamaica. A lot of them are never found. They never turn up. You’d think on an island this size––.”

“What? That we wouldn’t have perverts? That someone would know where they are and say something?”

“Yes.” The car stopped at a red light in what looked like a shopping area and Julissa stared at the people crossing the street in front of her. It occurred to her that she hadn’t seen many children since arriving in Jamaica except for when Sebastian took her to Hellshire. They were either at home or, like now, in school, whenever she left the hotel. Julissa thought of her four year–old niece, Sabrina, in the red and white velvet dress she’d refused to take off and had slept in after last year’s Christmas dinner. She could almost feel the little girl’s warm chunky body as she’d hurled herself at her Auntie Julie.

A lump rose in Julissa’s throat and, all of a sudden, she felt a deep wrenching longing. When she went back to the States she’d fly to Atlanta and spend more time with her niece. Sabrina was growing so quickly. Time flew by so fast. One minute you were holding a tiny baby in your arms and then, the next minute, they were heading off to college. But always, always, you had to watch over them and protect them because you never knew when pure evil would strike and either take them from you forever, or hand them back as broken dolls.

“My mom says people looked out for each other a lot more long ago but that Jamaica was changing even when she was a girl. She says people nowadays are just busy running after money. They don’t have time to care for each other anymore.”

“The village is now a big city.”

“Exactly. The village can’t raise the children because the village doesn’t exist.”

“Most missing children are taken by someone they know,” Julissa murmured, quoting from one of the pamphlets she’d been given. She found that the most disturbing of everything she’d read – that someone close to the child, someone around whom the child was supposed to be safe, would be watching and waiting for a chance to carry off his prey. The idea of that sickened her.

Mr. Joseph was waiting for them in the reception area at TVJ. After they signed in and clipped on their plastic Visitor tags, he led them to the studio where what seemed like a small crowd waited for them. Joyce’s mother was a bird–thin woman a couple inches shorter than Julissa. Her eyes were red and her shoulder–length hair stuck out at odd angles. Who had time to comb their hair when their child was missing? Mr. Joseph introduced her to Julissa first. Edwina Parchment.

“Thank you,” she whispered to Julissa as they shook hands. “Thank you for doing this.”

“Please don’t mention it. I wish I could do more.”

Mrs. Parchment’s eyes searched her face and she nodded quickly as if to acknowledge that Julissa meant what she’d said. “This is my husband, Matthew Parchment.” She motioned him forward.

He was built more solidly than his wife but was only a couple inches taller. His face had a lost, shell–shocked look as if he were having a hard time understanding what had happened to them.

“And this is my sister, Louise, and her husband.” Julissa shook hands again. “This is Brother Julius Howard, from my church.” Brother Julius gave Julissa a sad look and a handshake so hard his grip almost hurt.

“Jesus will soon come for this wicked, wicked world,” he said.

“Okay, okay, ladies and gentlemen.” A heavily made–up light–skinned woman clapped her hands for silence. “Hello, everyone. My name’s Martine and I’m a producer here at TVJ. We’re going to begin in a few minutes and we need to clear the studio. If you’re not speaking or if you’re not the parents, would you please wait in the control room? You can watch the taping from there.” She pointed to the room’s glassed in wall and a technician waved at them.

When Mr. Joseph and the other relatives and Brother Julius marched out, the studio seemed much bigger.

“Okay.” The woman’s expression grew solemn. “Now, parents. You’ll go on first.”

“What should we say?”

“Say what you want us to know. It won’t be live. We’re taping it so it can be edited. You go first and then, Miss Morgan, is it?”

Julissa nodded and felt a moment’s nervousness. She clasped her hands together and willed herself not to have a panic attack, not now when this sad family was counting on her. The feeling passed and she took several quick shallow breaths. She was going to be okay. Everything was going to be fine and Lord, please, Lord, let Joyce be found, safe and sound.

“Is there anything in particular you want me to say?” she asked, not sure exactly who to direct this question to.

“Tell them to bring her back,” Mr. Parchment said, speaking for the first time. “We want her back. Don’t hurt her.”

“This is Joyce,” Mrs. Parchment said, opening her handbag and pulling out a photo of a smiling, dimple–faced girl with her hair in four thick cornrows.

“She looks mischievous,” Julissa said, unable to help a smile at the picture of the girl’s happy face.

“That she is, always playing tricks and laughing.” Mrs. Parchment smiled bravely but tears shimmered in her eyes.

“Okay,” the producer interrupted them. “We’re almost ready to go so I’m going to ask you to take your seats.” She waved them over to where a table with a mike had been set up in front of a green backdrop. “I will signal to you like this when we begin recording.” She pointed two fingers at them. “You, first, Mrs. Parchment, then your husband and then you, Miss Morgan.”

They took their seats and waited, but when the woman pointed at them, Mrs. Parchment burst into tears. Her husband awkwardly comforted her while the producer did her best to look patient and understanding. After the sobbing spasm faded, a young woman darted in to smooth down Mrs. Parchment’s hair.

They tried again but when Mrs. Parchment opened her mouth no sound came out. She stared transfixed at the camera, flapped her hands and turned to her husband.

“I can’t. I can’t. Oh, my God, Joycie.” The last was a wail that tore at Julissa’s heart. She wanted to say something to comfort the crying woman but it was difficult to know what the right thing was. The studio assistant came back in and took a little longer to rearrange the hair and reapply the powder. Before the producer could point at them again, Julissa reached over and grabbed Mrs. Parchment’s hand. She squeezed gently and held on. Mr. Parchment held his wife’s other hand.

This time when the woman pointed, Mrs. Parchment began speaking slowly and clearly, looking directly at the camera. She spoke about how Joyce did well at school, about her favorite subjects, and about how she helped out around the house with her two younger half–brothers. She noted that Joyce’s father never gave her anything, but said that was all right because she was a hard worker and she provided for her daughter and now she had a good husband and he helped her with everything. She said she thought Joyce would grow up and be somebody big in the society because she loved to talk and she was smart and she was kind. Tears leaked out of her eyes and her hand quivered in Julissa’s. “I want her back. She’s my treasure and my joy. Please, if you have my daughter or you know where she is, please, I beg unnu, send her back to me.”

Mr. Parchment didn’t speak long. He told whoever would be watching about when she was last seen, what school she went to and what she wore and then he, too, begged for her to come back. When he stopped speaking, the producer nodded at Julissa.

Julissa introduced herself and said a little about why she was in Jamaica then she held up the photo Mrs. Parchment had given her.

“This is Joyce Dougan. She’s twelve and she has a mother and step–father who love her and brothers who miss her. Family is the most important thing we have. It’s what every community, every nation is built on. Please help this family stay together and stay strong. If you know where Joyce is or what’s happened to her, please call the number at the bottom of your screen. Let Joyce have the future her mother dreams of for her. Please.”

The television producer waved her finger in a circle from the control room and then darted out to reappear in the studio. “Excellent. Good thinking about the number on the screen,” she said to Julissa. “I forgot to tell you we’d have that, but it was great of you to think of it. We’ll put the clip out on the program, News at Twelve.” She ushered them out to where Mr. Joseph and the others waited.

“Well done,” Mr. Joseph said, patting Julissa on the shoulder before moving on to speak to the Parchments.

“Whoever took her would have to have a heart of stone not to respond to that,” Lori said, watching the family.

“You know, I just have a good feeling about this. I think Joyce will come back.” Julissa couldn’t explain where the good feeling came from. It was not, after all, as if she were psychic but, it was there, nevertheless, like a small warm glow in her heart.