Tangled Passion (7 page)

“Yes sir,” she replied, a little apprehension in her funniness.

“You know I leave for England tomorrow,” he said, looking away from her as a feeling of betrayal overtook him.

“Yes sir,” Shanika said again; she sounded as though the strength in her body had suddenly left her.

“Please listen, listen to me very carefully,” Longstands said. She looked up at him for a brief moment then lowered her gaze to the floor.

By the time Longstands finished talking, the sun had gone down and the room had become a little darker; the sound of croaking frogs and crickets very audible.

“I understand completely.” Shanika said sniffing; the tears that clouded her eyes had run down her cheeks and then dried up. She understood the circumstances surrounding Longstands’s decision and the options available to him. She knew he was a kind-hearted man; there was no doubt about that and there was also no doubt that it must have been a difficult decision for him.

The disadvantages of leaving her in St Lucia outweighed the benefits. Not only would she become a laughingstock amongst the other slaves who would see her as abandoned but there’d be a big commotion after the baby was born and the truth came to light. The wives of the other slave masters would label her a witch for sleeping with one of their men and demand her head on a platter.

The option of another island was the best, especially an island with freed slaves. What more could she ask for? She was thankful that the master had considered such an alternative for her. “Thank you sir,” she said; a fresh brew of tears flowing down her cheeks. This time her tears came from gratitude mixed with the pain and anxiety of a separation from Longstands for a time period she wasn’t sure of. Since she’d known him, her life had changed; he’d treated her with respect and love and given her the highest level of care she’d ever received. When she’d found out that she was pregnant, she was alarmed and feared that he might deny it and use it as an excuse to put her out as did many other slave masters. But Longstands didn’t make a big fuss of it; instead he cared even more for her.

“I would be back in six months,” Longstands said. She nodded, a little smile appearing on her face like sunrays appearing in the faraway horizon after a heavy downpour. He was happy that she understood the circumstances surrounding his decision even though he saw the fear, uncertainty, and anxiety that were boldly plastered on her innocent face. “Come here,” he said, his arms wide open. She sank into them and they remained hugging for the longest time either one of could possibly remember. It was as though they feared it might be the last time they’d ever be in each other’s arms. He kissed her several times on her forehead frantically fighting his overwhelming emotions and later that night, she boarded the boat for the island of the freed slaves.

“I will come for you as soon as I return,” he promised; it was probably the hundredth time he was saying the same words with the same strong emphasis.

She nodded. “I will wait for you.” She was calm as she settled into the boat but underneath her calmness a hurricane of emotions threatened to rip her in pieces and Longstands could see it.

“I promise, I will return for you,” he reassured her, gently placing a military backpack on the floor of the boat and letting it rest between her legs. In the bag were all of Shanika’s belongings and at the very top of all the stuff was a loaded pistol. Their eyes met in the moonlight—‘don’t forget the gun’, she read in his eyes as he gently tapped the bag.

“Don’t hesitate one second to use it if anything suspicious begins. Just point and squeeze; don’t think about it,” his voice replayed in her head. He also made her sit on the floor of the boat at one end of the thirty-foot long boat so that she had the boatmen who sat at the opposite end in full view. This gave Shanika enough room to take out the gun, aim and fire, in the event that the men tried anything funny. “There are two men but don’t wave your gun, just keep it pointed at one of them. If he moves, shoot immediately, don’t hesitate. When he goes down, the other one will do anything you ask,” Longstands had instructed her.

“Thank you,” she said, placing her hand on his. Mr Longstands nodded, a small collection of tears gathering at the corner of his eyes.

“Okay,” he said gathering himself together; thankfully a dark cloud was passing and had covered the moon; he didn’t want the boatmen to see his emotions on display.

He kissed her on her forehead one last time and the boat began to float away. Several minutes after the boat had become swallowed up by darkness, Longstands was still standing at the same spot, staring into the vast and dense darkness, ignoring the waves that constantly returned to shore and buried his feet in water. He was suddenly unsure that he had made the right decision and he began to go over a long list in his head; he didn’t know why he suddenly felt like there was something he had forgotten—he had given Shanika a good amount of money; so much money she could easily live on it for two years or more. He’d hidden the money in the zipped pockets of one of his old jean trousers, which he cut very short and made Shanika wear underneath her dress.

He’d also made sure that Shanika had a good supply of food to last the journey and some extra cash in her backpack and that she was on her way to a free land. It seemed he had everything covered and a feeling of relief enveloped him; he had taken every necessary precaution and equipped the soon-to-be mother with money and protection.

He smiled, thinking of how excited she’d be when they met again, he thought about the baby she was carrying, prayed that she had a safe delivery and bet against himself that the child was a girl. Apart from the lack of trust he had for the boatmen, Longstands had a feeling of satisfaction, there was no doubt he had done the best he could under the circumstances—he’d done the right thing.

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“Do I?” she snarled tossing back his niceness to him. The matter she wanted to discuss wasn’t one that she could properly negotiate in a friendly manner.

“Suzanne, please…”

“What do you think you are doing Longstands?” she asked, cutting him off, her head tilted at a seventy-degree angle as she gave him that look that said, ‘do I look like I am playing with you?’

Longstands got the message right away—he knew that it just wasn’t the time to be beating around the bush. It sure wasn’t going to do him any good or buy him any time. His wife was obviously not in the mood for ‘child’s play’ as she often called it.

“Suzanne, if this is about Nathan, I want you to know that I am talking to him, but you can’t rush Nathan, you know your son as well as I do,” he lied.

“Talking to him?” she replied, an additional dose of anger evident in her voice.

“Yes Suzanne, we….”.

“What exactly, were you buddies talking about?” Suzanne interrupted.

“We spoke like men yesterday and we are beginning to understand each other,” Longstands said, still keeping his calm.

“Wonderful! Father and son finally talking like men. Let me ask you Longstands, in your ‘man-to-man’ talk, did you buddies manage to at least talk about the issue at hand?” Suzanne said in a tone mixed with scolding and mockery. “Like finding a way to get that girl and her mother out of this Fort immediately and making Nathan—your buddy, realize that there is no way he can pick up that ...em ...em slave girl as his maid, much less his wife.”.

“Listen Suzanne…!” Longstands began but he decided not to continue; he too was turning red. He felt squeezed from both sides; his wife on one side and his son on the other, both demanding something he had no power to grant. His patience was wearing thin and he wasn’t sure when it would snap, besides he was beginning to feel that he’d had enough of Suzanne. She was pushing him too hard and his back was finally against the wall. He too was about to snap and on the same amount of pressure.

“Frankly Suzanne, what in the world do you want me to do with Nathan? He is a grown up man and an enlightened man for that matter, I am his father but he is a grown man so…”

“Very well Longstands,” Suzanne snapped, jumping off her seat as if stung by a violent scorpion. “I am not asking you to do anything with Nathan.”

“What?” Mr Longstands said. What else could she want?

“All that I am asking you to do is to send that woman and her daughter away from this Fort; send them somewhere, anywhere. I don’t really care where, as long as it is somewhere Nathan can’t find them. If you don’t, I will surely let my father know,” she shouted and with that, stormed out of Longstands’s room.

Longstands slumped back into his bamboo chair, exhausted, confused, and deflated. He had been meaning to talk to his son about the diary and its contents but the boy had been carefully avoiding his parents. Nathan spent most of his time at the beach or amongst the slaves. What a bargaining power his possession of the diary earned him and how well he was using it, Longstands thought. He reached into his drawer and pulled out a box that he rarely touched; in it lay the last stick of a Cuban cigar. It was going to be the first time he would light one for any reason other than victory—this one was being lit for defeat.

For the first time in his life, he had been cornered and brought to his knees by his own son and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. Longstands was at his wits’ end and his wife was not helping. It was as if the whole world had turned its back on him; he felt so alone, so tired and so frustrated.

As he dragged the smoke out of the cigar into his lungs and watched it make its exit through his mouth and nostrils, forming a grey cloud in front of him, he felt like he was in a boat that was slowly taking in water with only a matter of time before it sank, taking him with it to the bottom of the sea. Slowly he lifted his over six-foot and close to two hundred pounds frame off the relieved bamboo chair and headed out. Another walk around the Fort could do him some good, he reckoned. There had to be something he could do and he had to think and act fast if he was to stand any chance of winning the intensifying fight.

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“Ehem, where's the boy?” the slave asked casually and the three of the eight other men who were half awake grumbled uninterestedly. When had it become one of their numerous concerns to keep an eye on the young man?

“Probably in the dark somewhere with his lady, watching the moon, counting the stars, and dreaming away,” Locua mocked. Some of the slaves laughed; everybody knew that Locua was envious of Jonah’s relationship with Ashana.

“Oh yes, the girl is a pretty young woman and I think that you people, especially you Locua, are simply jealous,” another slave said, in defence of Jonah.

“Hahaha!” A roar of laughter rose, encouraging a joke battle between Locua and the man that had appointed himself Jonah’s advocate.

“What?” Locua scoffed.

“What…what do you mean, ‘what?’ Is that all you have to say?” another man challenged Locua.

“You all know that if I ever wanted that girl, she would have been mine a long time ago. As a matter of fact, she would have been here right now.”

“Hahaha!” Another round of laughter ripped through the raffia roof of the tiny hut.

“Is it any secret that you were overheard begging her on your knees; asking her to like you just a little bit?” Jonah’s advocate fired at Locua.

“And she flatly refused, calling you a crazy old fool,” another man added, joining the joke battle. This instantly drew booing and disparaging gestures from the others, who had now assumed sitting positions in anticipation of the direction the slowly escalating joke battle could go.

“What?” Locua said, his face clearly distorted with an overwhelming dose of embarrassment. “Whoever told you that?”

“I did,” mocked one of the men, drawing another round of laughter.

“Be quiet, fool,” Locua said to the man, causing the others to laugh even harder at the clearly visible embarrassment on his face.

“Maybe the person who is spreading the rumour is the one person who is not participating in this conversation—the one who is pretending to be asleep,” said one of the men who had been quiet all the while, causing the room to plunge into silence.

PaNene, the oldest and most respected man in the hut, recognized the voice of the speaker; it was one of his arch enemies. He also knew that the sudden silence in the room was an indirect invitation for him to join the conversation but he was determined to stay out of it. After all, they all knew that he was like a father to Jonah and to them it was only matter of time before he joined any conversation in which Jonah’s name was mentioned.

He also knew that the trick to the situation was all about knowing the right time to join the conversation and saying just the right thing. So he remained quiet and waited patiently for that time to come; until that time his mind was occupied with the thought of Jonah and Ashana. He prayed for their safety and prayed more, just in case the Almighty didn’t hear his last prayer. Ever since he let them into the tunnel, the debate in his head had not ceased nor subsided; he hadn’t stopped wondering if he had done the right thing. He hoped that the young couple was courageous enough to complete the journey. It wouldn’t be long before the escape was discovered and there was no doubt that the first person the Massa would be questioning would be him.