Chapter 25
VIVIAN JEAN
Appleton Station, Jamaica
The train arrives at Appleton Station, the last stop before Maggotty.
Tully and I grab our handbags while the load bearers take everything else.
We leave the others on the train, letting them know we’ll rejoin them in Maggotty.
The Appleton stop is where my father promised to meet us.
He wrote that he’d be waiting for us here, where the air is thinner and cooler than in Kingston Harbour.
“Where is he?” My heart races with near panic as I scan the station. “He said he’d be here.” I hold Tully’s hand, hoping my father will appear quickly and tell us what he has to tell us, then vanish like a cloud in the wind. “Do you see him?” I ask Tully, tugging on his hand.
“He’ll be here. Be patient. He’ll be here.”
Tully sounds like he can predict the future.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hartfield, is everything okay?” It’s not the voice I was hoping to hear. Zinzi Green, the guide who insists she isn’t related to Maxi, has approached us.
“Excuse me, the train will leave the station soon. If you’re not on board, I’ll be unable to come back for you until tomorrow. This group can’t travel through the jungle after dark. And you can’t travel to Accompong by yourselves,” Zinzi adds.
“We’re waiting for my wife’s father,” Tully replies.
“Is he staying in Appleton? It’s difficult to travel about in these small villages unless he’s lodging at one of the sugar plantations.” Zinzi’s tone carries an unusual hint of accusation. “He ought to have met you in Kingston.”
“You’re right,” I respond. “He should have.”
Zinzi glances from me to Tully. “What do you want to do?”
Everything has worked in our favor up until now. The boat docked on time, and the train arrived on time despite the worn wheels, the old tracks, and the shabby train cars. Why did he want to meet us here? Why couldn’t we have met on Harbour Street?
“We should go with Zinzi,” I say to Tully. “We can’t wait for him and risk putting the entire trip off schedule.”
He nods, grabs our bags, and follows Zinzi back toward the train.
“Look. Is that his car?” Zinzi points at the road. “Is that your father, Mrs. Hartfield?”
A limo driver opens the car door and Major Thomas steps out.
“That’s him.” I squeeze Tully’s arm.
“We’ll be on our way,” Zinzi says sharply. “We won’t be able to wait for you in Maggotty. Please get there quickly. We only have one more stop before we reach that village.”
“Okay,” I say to Zinzi as my father joins us. “I thought you weren’t going to make it.”
“You shouldn’t have worried.” He smiles.
He greets Tully, and I introduce him to Zinzi Green. He shakes her hand before she hurries to reboard the train. I notice he shows no reaction to her familiar last name.
“Sir,” she addresses my father, “our next stop is Maggotty. We’ll travel by mule from there and upon arrival, must leave promptly to reach Accompong before dark.”
“No need to explain, Miss Green. I understand. We’ll join you in Maggotty before your scheduled departure. We won’t be late.”
Moments later, we find ourselves in the back seat of the limo: Major Thomas is seated behind the driver, I am in the middle, and Tully is by the window. My father offers Tully a cigarette, which he thankfully refuses. I just want him to get straight to whatever he has to say.
“Regarding the note that Clifford wrote, he liked jotting down messages. He enjoyed surprises.” My father has always viewed Clifford differently from the way I did, as if he knew another version of my childhood friend and later husband.
“Father. Please just tell us about the note,” I urge him. “What did Clifford mean?”
“We know what he meant,” Tully adds roughly.
“What Clifford meant was to stir up trouble,” Major Thomas responds, mirroring Tully’s tone.
“Trouble for whom?” Tully questions.
The car speeds along the dirt road, bumping over rocks and ditches.
“You think the note has something to do with you and Vivian Jean, don’t you, Tobias?” the major states soberly. “Do not worry. It’s not about you and Vivian Jean.”
Tully grips the seat in front of him as if he needs help to keep upright. “You are going to tell us the truth, right?”
My father adjusts his position to face Tully and me. “It’s about Maxi and me. Clifford found out about us.”
My throat goes dry. “You and Maxi had an affair?”
“No, not an affair,” he says, his gaze steady and unwavering. “Maxi and I have been in love since I met her.”
I look out the window, watching the jungle fade into the distance. All I see is a blurry landscape as a strange pressure builds in my chest and throat.
“Vivi, I didn’t mean to—”
“Shut up!” I yell. “Shut your damn mouth.”
Maggotty, St. Elizabeth Parish
Maggotty is a bustling town with a train station, a market, shopping carts, and small shops.
Additionally, there’s a corral that emits a foul odor, spreading over the city like rancid butter.
The station is not small; it’s sturdy, made of stone, and features a steeple and a bell.
It reminds me of the churches in Chicago on Wabash or State Street, except without the red brick or wood siding.
The load bearers adjust the crates, suitcases, and bags they carry as my father’s car stops near the mules lined up across from the train station. Tully and I exit his limousine, but I don’t look back as the automobile drives away. I walk over to the group and join them in gazing at the animals.
“No one mentioned mules.” Othella is upset, frightened, or both. “Do you remember Zinzi mentioning these animals?”
Robbie clears his throat. “She did. She also mentioned the Jamaican boa, various species of deadly spiders, including the scorpion, and the most dangerous spider—one that sounds like a fruit.”
“The banana spider,” Othella chimes in.
“And don’t forget, the water isn’t without danger,” Robbie adds. “There are poisonous sea urchins and crocodiles.” He stares at the so-called beasts, his eyes slightly watery from the stench. “But I don’t remember these creatures.”
I study the mules, or “the beasts,” as Zinzi has called them, with their four short legs, oddly shaped heads, and long snouts.
I am not as upset as the others seem to be.
They provide me with a welcome distraction, keeping my mind off my father and his confession, though he didn’t sound sorry for the pain he and Maxi have caused.
My head hurts. Too many emotions bouncing around inside it.
Instead of thinking about my father, I will master riding Zinzi’s beasts.
“Do I have to sit on that?” Othella asks, scrunching her nose.
Zinzi rides over on her mule in the saddle, sitting tall and unfazed. “There’s one for each of you.”
“So we can’t refuse,” Robbie replies.
“Not unless you want to walk three miles to Accompong,” Zinzi says, “through the jungle, over rocks, cliffs, and limestone quarries. By the time you reach Accompong, if you survive the jungle in the pitch-blackness of night, covered in bugbites and with a snake’s fangs embedded in your flesh, then sure—you are welcome to try it. ”
Katherine whispers in my ear, “Why is she so unpleasant?”
“It’s because we’re a handful,” Tully responds on my behalf.
I notice him watching me, anticipating my reaction and wanting to ask questions: How are you feeling? Are you okay? Do you want to talk?
But I’m not ready for any of that. What I want now is silence. I lift my gaze to the cloudless sky. The sun shines brightly over the Cockpit, casting patches of light mixed with impenetrable darkness. “I’ve been here before.”
A loud squawk erupts from the treetops. “What is that?” Othella asks. “It sounds like someone is screaming.”
“No,” Zinzi replies. “It’s a bird, not a person—a yellow-billed parrot.”
“Do they bite?” Othella glances from the trees to the beasts. “I’m not getting on that thing.” She slides behind Robbie, peeking over his shoulder at the mules. “They must bite,” she says. “Their teeth are huge.”
I watch her, hoping to find Othella’s anxiety amusing, but I can’t. I am reeling from what I’ve just learned about the two people whose love, affection, and opinions have shaped me from childhood to adulthood, through marriage and then marriage again, through sorrow, and heartbreak.
“I’d be more worried about falling off a cliff.” Tully moves close to me, staying within arm’s reach since we exited my father’s limo. I’m unsure how I feel about the gesture because I don’t want to feel anything. Not yet. Not now.
“They all have saddles,” Katherine notes.
“Yes,” Zinzi says, grasping her mule’s reins. “Let’s get going.”
The load bearers forge ahead of us, jogging barefoot and shirtless.
Sweat cascades down their bodies as they balance towering stacks of luggage, steamer trunks, and crates atop their heads and on their backs.
I wish I could run with them. It’s the only thought that matters to me at this moment: how desperately I want to run.
The Mule Trail, Cockpit Country
More than two hours have passed, and we are that much closer to Accompong. I should feel exuberant, the excitement rolling off my brow like raindrops on a spring day.
Instead, sitting in the saddle atop my beast, I am thrust back through time, thinking about what I took for granted over the past thirty years: the love and affection from Maxi that I always counted on, the absence of warmth from my mother that I accepted, and my father’s controlling nature that I tried to appease.
I have missed so much: the signs of his brutishness and the anger my mother suppressed, which turned into tolerance and indifference when she looked at me.
What other signs did I miss?
Just the other evening, the night I returned to Hartfield House from Mr. Abbott’s, I rushed inside and hurried up the stairs, searching for Tully.
I thought my father had left when I dashed down the grand staircase, still looking for my husband, but I caught sight of my father and Maxi from the corner of my eye.
Standing in the doorway, Maxi had her arms crossed over her chest while my father held the door ajar.
He stood close to her, speaking with a pleading urgency in his gaze, and then, over Maxi’s shoulder, he spotted me.
Immediately, he stepped back and shut the door in Maxi’s face.
I didn’t pause for more than a second. I was eager to find Tully and too upset with my father to let curiosity distract me.
Tully needed to know that the major was at it again, interfering and mucking things up.
Now, as I picture him and Maxi in that doorway, I wonder how many other times I’ve seen them like that and brushed it off. How many times was the truth of their affair right in front of me, just an arm’s length away?
Each time—every time—I assumed they were talking about me, debating what Vivian Jean needed, how to do better for Vivian Jean, defending Vivian Jean.
How often did I see them side by side, and the conversation was not about Vivian Jean?
Were the affectionate glances I thought were meant for me, the sweet smiles I cherished and the embraces I longed for merely placeholders for what they were eager to share with each other?
All those times I saw them overflowing with love and joy had nothing to do with me.
“Another two miles.”
I blink. Who said that?
It’s Tully, responding to Othella’s question about how much longer we must remain in the saddle on the beasts.
“Riding a mule over rough terrain is tough on the bones,” he says.
“I swear, I didn’t know I had muscles in certain parts of my body.
” His chatter aims to provoke a reaction from me.
He can’t deceive me. Everyone else in my life has, but not Tully.
Not now. And I’d thank him if I felt like talking, which I don’t. Not yet.