New Beginnings Read online

  “We are not in primary school, Geneva,” Justin said bitingly. “I'm your man. I'm the head of this relationship, and I forbid you to keep in touch with Anansi or whatever her name is.”

  Geneva bit down on her lips and counted to ten. “You have a streak of bigotry,” she said to Justin quietly.

  They were quiet all the way to her house. She got out of the car and slammed the door as hard as she could. She wished it had fallen off.

  “Geneva come back here,” Justin bellowed.

  Geneva slammed the front door for effect and wondered if he got the message.

  “Somebody needs anger management courses,” Pamela said, coming out of the library with a box in her hands.

  “I think Justin is an infuriating idiot,” Geneva said angrily. “I feel like strangling him.”

  Pamela frowned. “Why is he still chauffeuring you? You have your own vehicle.”

  “He is impossible, and a lunatic!” Geneva continued heatedly. “He told me I shouldn't talk to Miss Nancy anymore.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Pamela said, placing the box on top of a pile. “Men are pigs and will remain pigs forever, except for Ronald. But then again, one wonders; with five ex-wives, there must be something wrong with him.”

  “You are agreeing with me?” Geneva asked incredulously.

  “Yes, why not?” Pamela asked. “Right now I'm against all men, especially rich ones.”

  “Wow,” Geneva said in wonder. “Found something in your husband’s belongings that triggered this sisterly camaraderie?”

  “As a matter of fact, I found a picture of my sister, Marie,” Pamela said haughtily and then spoiling the effect by looking sad. “Stanley had it locked in his desk drawer. It’s one I’d never seen before. She looked so happy and carefree. I feel so angry at my father now. She told me that he used to come to her room at nights and they’d play pretend. She had to dress up in her school uniform to satisfy his sick fantasies. I thought she was making things up at first, but I confronted my father and he never denied it. He said he loved her in a special way.”

  “I'm sorry, Pamela,” Geneva said.

  Pamela glanced at her stonily. “I don’t need your sympathy.”

  “Okay.” Geneva shrugged and headed for her room. She had wanted to see the picture of the mysterious Marie, but Pamela’s stiff demeanor indicated that her request would be rebuffed.

  Geneva went into her bedroom and closed the door. Justin had a nerve to ask her to stop speaking to Miss Nancy. Miss Nancy was the only one she had kept in touch with from her past, and sometimes she regretted cutting everybody off, but she really didn’t have anybody else there who would even care if she were dead or alive, now that Froggie was gone.

  She felt a sense of nostalgia as she sat in her opulent bed. On an evening like this, just a few months ago, she would probably have been cycling her way from classes, heading to the bar where Froggie would be. He would greet her with a gruff macho hello in front of his friends and then drag her into his office and ravish her lips, his hands touching her everywhere. Her heart picked up speed when she thought of that.

  Justin had asked her if she compared them. Oh yes, she did. She had a passionate all consuming love for Froggie. What she had with Justin was gentler, more unfocused. At times, she didn’t even know if she wanted to be with him. She grabbed her phone in defiance and called Miss Nancy. “Let us see who is going to stop me from making the calls I want,” she whispered as the phone rang.

  “Hello,” Miss Nancy answered cautiously. She saw Geneva’s number on the call display. She was in the restaurant after the lunch crowd had left and was preparing for dinner. The tablecloths were put on the tables for the evening meal and a romantic atmosphere was created with hurricane lamps and flowers floating in glass bowls. She enjoyed overseeing the transformation.

  “Miss Nancy,” Geneva said, “remember one time you told me that my mother was using a fake name?”

  “Oh, yes,” Miss Nancy said, breathing more freely. She always tensed up when Geneva called. “She said she was known as the little white girl. We found it funny because she wasn’t all that light-skinned by our standards, but she insisted that they used to call her the little white girl.”

  “Oh,” Geneva said, disappointed. “I thought that she gave a name.”

  “Well,” Miss Nancy said, concentrating hard. “One night, she mumbled that her real name was Mattie, or was it Cathy or Carrie? She was never too clear, but the one thing that stands out is that she used to bellow ‘Give one more drink to the little white girl’.”

  “Probably was drunk,” Geneva sighed. “Tell me something, do you know of a restaurant called New Beginnings? Justin was telling me that it’s all the rage and that we should probably eat there this weekend.”

  Miss Nancy held in her breath. She had no idea that the restaurant had become that popular in the short space of time that it was opened.

  “I was gonna come out to Ochi and link up with you,” Geneva continued. “But I just might put it off. Justin is being a pain, and I'm not sure I want to go out with him anymore.”

  “Well… er…” Miss Nancy said and looked wildly across the restaurant at the board floors and the high sheen finish on the board rafters. She couldn’t, for the life of her, think of anything to say to Geneva.

  “Miss Nancy,” Tina bellowed from the back. “Winston wants to know…”

  Miss Nancy hung up the phone quickly. She didn’t want Geneva to hear what Winston wants to know.

  “Mama,” Froggie said. He was looking at her strangely as she stood paralyzed in the corner. “What’s the matter?”

  “Geneva has heard of the restaurant and wanted to know if it’s a good place to eat. Tina had shouted your name so I had to hang up quickly.”

  They both stared, transfixed, as the phone vibrated on the table.

  “What did you want to know, Winston?” Miss Nancy asked fearfully as the phone continued to ring.

  “I wanted to know where you were. The chandeliers were just delivered. Turn it off,” Froggie said softly.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Geneva tried to call back Miss Nancy for the whole evening, but she continued to get a recording. She laid in the darkness. Her brain felt like it was throbbing. Winston wants to know kept ringing in her head. Did Miss Nancy have another Winston in her life? Something else was niggling at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t pinpoint what it was. It made her uncomfortable, and when she went down to see Ronald at the breakfast table, she felt so bone weary from thinking and going over puzzles in her head that she could barely crack a smile at him.

  “Where’s that beauty queen smile?” Ronald asked jovially.

  “I left it in my bed,” Geneva said, giving him a wan look.

  “I met someone, Uncle Ronald,” Melody said, sailing into the room, looking fresh and lovely.

  “At least someone around here is happy,” Ronald commented.

  “He is great!” Melody exclaimed. “And to think I almost gave up on him because of my prejudice.”

  “Tell me more,” Ronald said interestedly.

  Melody launched into the story of her meeting with Daren.

  “Everyone’s up early today,” Pamela said as she glided into the room, her hair perfectly coifed and a crème pant suit hugging her still shapely figure. An exotic scent following her as she moved.

  Ronald stood up and bowed deeply. “Your highness.”

  Pamela laughed graciously and sat down beside Melody.

  “I have a theory,” Geneva said abruptly in the middle of their laughter.

  Everyone turned to look at her.

  “It’s been staring me in the face for quite awhile now and I dismissed it. Ronald knows who my mother is.” Geneva looked at him accusingly.

  “That’s the theory?” Pamela asked scornfully.

  “Yes,” Geneva said, looking at Ronald with tears in her eyes. “I tossed and I turned all night long, and I came up with this grand solution to my puzzl
ing question.”

  “Don’t keep us in suspense,” Melody said excitedly. “What is the solution to the puzzle?”

  “When my mother was not as drunk, when I was little, she used to tell me these stories of the French queen, Marie Antoinette. It was her favorite bedtime story for me.”

  “What a quaint way to put a child to sleep,” Pamela sniffed.

  “Well, Marie, the queen that is, loved music and she loved to play. She had a difficult relationship with her mother and she felt neglected by her husband and used to gamble and drink.”

  “Okay,” Melody said, nodding.

  “My mother loved French. She made sure I learned it.”

  “So?” Pamela rebutted, getting impatient.

  “She loved music, especially Canon in D.”

  Pamela stiffened. “Yes, that piece that you played as your talent piece.”

  “My mother had me for Stanley Walters when she was seventeen. Your sister ran away from this house at age sixteen and was never heard from again.”

  Pamela inhaled. Ronald looked uncomfortable.

  “Oh, my Gosh,” Melody said. She covered her mouth and looked at Geneva.

  “Miss Nancy told me last night that my mother, in her drunken state, would shout out that she was the little ‘white’ girl. Melody and I saw an article at the library about the Whites and their two girls, the younger of the two being Marie White. What do you bet, Pamela, that Marie White and Rachel Green are one and the same person?”

  Pamela gasped and looked at Ronald. “No.”

  Then she paused, a feral gleam in her eye. “You knew, didn’t you? All this time you were keeping this dirty secret for Stanley? My own baby sister?”

  “The affair that your sister had with Stanley, I promised not to tell a living soul,” Ronald said, clearing his throat

  “Are you saying that... Stanley and Marie... That’s why she ran away…that’s why he never told me who his mistress was…right under my nose?” Pamela’s voice rose higher and higher. “She was a troubled child just coming out of an incestuous situation. How could he? How can you even call it an affair? The ghetto whore is actually my sister?”

  Pamela put a hand to her head and then got up from the table. “Marie is dead? I always imagined her living somewhere, being her usual impetuous self, not wanting to get in touch for fear of having to face her abuser… Excuse me.”

  Ronald got up to follow her.

  “No,” Melody said to him, her voice strained. “I will tell Marcia to get her some chamomile. She drinks loads of the stuff to keep her on an even keel.”

  “I always wondered how we had the same nose,” Melody said to Geneva. This nose is on the White side of the family. She got up and hugged her sister. “It’s going to take a while to get used to the fact that we share the same relatives from both sides of the family tree.”

  Ronald got up and looked at the juice he had poured for himself. “Do you have anything stronger?”

  “No drinking,” Geneva said, looking over at him. “It’s bad for you. It killed Marie.”

  He shrugged and picked up the orange juice. “Your father tried to track her down for years. When she contacted him, two years ago, he was unsure at first that she was really who she said she was. Then he did all the tests and found out you were his.”

  “He didn’t acknowledge me then because he was afraid of what Pamela would say,” Geneva said reflectively. “But he made a will with the provision that I would spend some time here, not only to get to know my sister, but my aunt as well. I guess he hoped that the truth would somehow be revealed when he died, and he wouldn’t be made to take the heat.”

  Ronald nodded. “That’s fairly accurate. He also did it to drive Pamela crazy when she found out about you. They were always competing over who could be the cruelest to the other.”

  Melody shook her head. “Our father was devious… two sisters?”

  Geneva stared at the table, absorbing all that she had guessed by piecing the obvious together.

  “I'm obviously in the dog house now, where Pamela is concerned. I may have to return to the States sooner than planned and hope that when she calms down she will at least talk to me," Ronald said forlornly.

  “You could have told me,” Geneva said accusingly.

  “No, I couldn’t,” Ronald said sadly. “I didn’t want to hurt Pamela. More than anybody in the world, Pamela loved Marie. I knew that if this came out, it would devastate her. I thought I would just let sleeping dogs lie.”

  “Bad idea,” Geneva said stormily. “It’s always better to just tell the truth. I'm going back to bed. I didn’t get much sleep last night trying to solve this mystery.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Pamela stayed in her rooms for days. When she finally ventured out, she headed for the living room where Geneva, Melody and Justin were playing a card game. Justin had come over unexpectedly after Geneva had given him the cold shoulder for days.

  “Geneva...” Pamela said, clearing her throat. “I'm sorry.”

  Geneva looked up and was shocked at the tears that were in Pamela’s eyes. Geneva nodded. She was getting choked up. Maybe Pamela would treat her differently from now on; she seemed different somehow: totally human, without the hauteur that was her defense. The Pamela of old would not have said sorry to anybody.

  “I won't be ready to talk about Marie for a long time. I hope you can understand that,” Pamela whispered. “There is still too much pain for me. She may have been dead for a while and you have come to terms with it, but I'm still just finding out that I lost my sister.”

  She held out a picture and Geneva took it reverently.

  “This is her?” Geneva asked reverently. “A very young and much better looking Rachel, I mean Marie. She was pretty. Can I keep this?”

  Pamela nodded and moved further in the room and knelt beside Melody and hugged her.

  “I'm sorry too,” she said in her daughter’s hair. “I never wanted Stanley to hug you because of what my father did to Marie. I saw myself turning into my mother, but I couldn’t stop because I was reluctant to hug you too, and show too much love. Marie’s abuse affected me badly, very badly. I wasn’t always this cold, bitter woman. I’ll try to do better. I promise.”

  Melody hugged her mother tighter. It was the first hug she could remember getting from her mom.

  “Now, if you will excuse me,” Pamela said, getting up. “I have a function to attend at three.”

  “She’s back,” Melody said, wiping the tears from her cheek.

  “And different,” Geneva said, sighing. “I'm going to relish calling her Aunty Pam and see if I get a rise out of her.”

  “Excuse me, guys. I have a call to make that I have been putting off for days,” Geneva said and got up.

  Justin looked at her intently until she left the room.

  “If you love her, you should fight for her,” Melody said when he dragged his eyes away. “Froggie is dead, you know.”

  “I know,” Justin swallowed. “But her love for him isn’t, and I guess I’ll never measure up to him in her eyes.”

  ****

  Geneva punched Miss Nancy’s number into the telephone.

  “Hello,” Miss Nancy answered, her voice was hoarse.

  “Hello,” Geneva said slowly. “Listen to me, Miss Nancy.”

  Miss Nancy cleared her throat cautiously. “Okay.”

  “Tell Froggie that he will never be dead for me. Tell him that I love him still and when he is ready he can make the first move,” she whispered. “Tell him that I'm not going anywhere. Did you get that, Miss Nancy?”

  “Yes,” Miss Nancy answered after a long pause.

  Geneva put down the telephone and sighed. It was sunny outside. She went out to her balcony and looked out at the view. It was a beautiful day. A time for new beginnings, or setting old records straight, then it hit her: New Beginnings. A sly smile crept across her face. So that was what Miss Nancy was hiding from her.

  “Guys,” she said,
walking back into the room. “Let’s go to Ocho Rios.”

  Justin looked at her skeptically. “I thought you didn’t want to go anywhere with me ever again.”

  “I feel like going to that restaurant called New Beginnings,” Geneva said happily.

  “Well, can I ask Daren to come too?” Melody asked excitedly.

  “Sure,” Geneva said and headed up the stairs. She needed to look extremely good for this trip.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Miss Nancy was worrying constantly throughout the day. She was debating with herself whether to tell Froggie that Geneva knew he wasn’t dead, and the more shocking news that Pastor Milton wanted to marry her at the end of the year. He had proposed the night before with a long-winded and well-rehearsed speech. It had almost put her to sleep, but at the end he had asked her to marry him.

  What would the people of Black Lane say if they could see her now? She allowed herself a half-smile. She had set out to get a parson, and she got him. It was a bonus that she loved him and was growing to love Jesus too. She felt like shouting hallelujah, but Froggie would look at her reproachfully because the lunch crowd was still thick.

  The restaurant had truly taken off. There was never a slow day there, even in off-peak hours. They were even thinking of expanding.

  “Thank you, Massa God, for your blessings,” she hummed under her breath.

  Tina came over to her. “Sister Nancy, I am swamped. Lettisha is off and it’s Babbette’s break.”

  “Where is Froggie?” Miss Nancy asked.

  “He was doing paper work in the office.”

  “Tell him to haul his ass… um, hindquarters out here.”

  Tina nodded and went for Froggie.

  ****

  Froggie took the orders from table four and was absentmindedly heading for table five when he saw her. She was sitting and facing the office door. She had been watching him the whole time. He drank her in. Her hair was in little ringlets all over her head. Her skin was smooth as honey and her liquid brown eyes were soft with love. He barely processed that she was sitting beside Justin Greenwood and that other people were sitting at the table. All he saw was Geneva. He blinked to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating. She was really there.