Loving Mr. Wright Page 5

  "Cell Block D?" Lola asked. "Never heard of them."

  "Oh we weren't popular," Caleb said weakly.

  He had revealed too much and his head was telling him to retreat, but Erica grabbed his hand. "Let's go sit inside. Pastor Brick is a relatively new pastor and this is actually the first that I am going to hear him preach."

  "Okay," Lola said. "You are both invited to lunch."

  "Nice." Erica grinned.

  "Ah… thank you," Caleb said, trying hard to keep his polite smile in place.

  Caleb went into the church reluctantly; all of a sudden he was scrambling to find the barriers that he had erected in his mind against people. Erica had found a vulnerable spot and she was trying to tear down every single one of them, even without knowing it. He couldn't allow that to happen, he had to remind himself of that.

  ********

  "Pastor Brick seems like he is a very good speaker," Lola said to the others at the table. She had invited Erica and Caleb—Tanya and Phoebe had invited themselves.

  The truth was, Lola had wanted to get to know Caleb a bit more, but since his arrival for lunch he had seemed withdrawn, only responding when he was directly asked a question, and even then he was evasive.

  Lola wondered if Caleb knew how clever she was at needling information from even the most reluctant person, or that she wouldn't allow her daughter to get caught up in another heart breaking relationship.

  She and Fred had been bowled over by Jay-Jay because he was a wealthy doctor with a charming smile, but she wasn't going to be fooled again.

  They had welcomed him to the family with open arms until they found out that he had been just leading-on Erica. This time she wouldn't just sit back and let Erica make more mistakes. She had to scrape Erica off the floor and glue her back together when she had found out about Jay-Jay.

  This Caleb person had better be legit, or else! She made that resolve and watched with an eagle eye as Caleb silently ate his lettuce salad.

  He had refused to eat beef; said he only ate chicken. At least she knew that one thing about him.

  "I like the pastor," Phoebe said, her hair was in ringlets and piled high on her head. "But I just couldn’t see myself as a first lady."

  "Neither can we," Tanya and Erica giggled.

  Fred held a napkin to his lips trying to suppress a laugh.

  "Hardy har," Phoebe snorted. "I wouldn’t really like Pastor Brick because he has that little bratty daughter and he still seems as if he is grieving his wife. Besides, aren’t pastors supposed to be poor or something?"

  "Oh yes," Fred said, his eyes alight. "That is a cardinal sin in your book, isn’t it?"

  "Definitely," Phoebe said smiling. She didn't care who knew what her intentions were.

  Erica sighed. "Pheebs-Pheebs, if you want riches above all else why don’t you go out with Ezekiel Hoppings. He is the only man in church that seems to like you."

  This time even Lola was laughing; Caleb who had no idea who Ezekiel Hoppings was, was looking at them like they were crazy.

  "Let me explain," Tanya said, glancing at him. She wiped her eyes and giggled a bit, "Ezekiel Hoppings is not very attractive."

  "To put it mildly," Phoebe said in disgust.

  "He has crossed eyes, a cut from his jaw to throat," Erica added.

  "He walks with a limp," Lola put in.

  "He has very rough pitted skin," Tanya shuddered.

  "He always smells like old clothes," Phoebe looked around. "That suggestion of me marrying him is ludicrous."

  Fred coughed. "But he can easily buy this town and maybe all of Jamaica too. He comes to church when he is not flitting in from some deal or the other in some far away country. The man has serious money. I hear that sheiks from Arabia come to visit him at his hidden retreat up in the hills at Hoppings Estate."

  "Whoo," Erica whistled, "and he is only forty. He must be looking for a wife by now."

  Tanya sobered up. "It's bad of us to laugh at him."

  "Yes it is," Lola chipped in, "but we only did it because he is rich enough to take the criticism, and he is always attending church like he is on some top secret mission: sits at the back and in a corner and barely raises his voice to tell anyone hello."

  "He smiled at me once," Tanya said shuddering again. "His teeth were giant and yellow."

  They all laughed again, except Phoebe and Caleb. Phoebe was pushing the food around in her plate contemplatively and Caleb felt like he was left out of the loop.

  "Ah pish posh," Lola said. "Let us stop gossiping. For all we know Ezekiel may be the kindest, gentlest soul in the world. The truth is we don’t know anything about him. People make judgments about others just from seeing them, and then we gossip about them and then we spread rumors, which makes us a sorry bunch of Christians."

  Everyone nodded and they ate in silence.

  "Maybe I should get to know him better," Phoebe said suddenly.

  The table was silent. Then Erica snickered and then chuckles were shared all round.

  "It would be like Beauty and The Beast," Tanya clutched her sides inelegantly and then excused herself from the table.

  They could all hear loud guffaws coming from the guest bathroom. Even Caleb was laughing because the laughter was contagious and from what he had seen so far, Phoebe was the shallowest person he had ever met.

  Phoebe hardly processed the bedlam around her that followed her statement. She was silently wondering, how bad it could be to encourage Ezekiel Hoppings.

  "Don't mind them," Lola said to Phoebe. "So Caleb," she turned her ultra bright smile on him. "We really don’t know anything about you either. Please help us."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Caleb almost froze in guilt at the question. If he hadn't been the recipient of the brilliant tactical move he just witnessed from Lola, he would have congratulated her.

  He was almost sure she encouraged the topic about Ezekiel and then turned to him, instantly her claws sheathed, a smile of interest on her face.

  He felt like clapping bravo, brilliantly done, but instead he cleared his throat. "Well I was born in Kingston."

  Tanya had come back to the table and they were all staring at him, even Erica who he wasn’t sure had put her mother up to this. There goes his thinking that she was different.

  Tanya had taken down her bun and her curls framed her face. It resembled a bedraggled mop and for a while, he looked in her direction fascinatedly.

  "Kingston, huh?" Fred was saying prompting him along. "My other daughter, Kelly, was also born in Kingston."

  "I also grew up there." Caleb searched in his mind for the sanitized version of his life that he had rehearsed in his cell when he still had hope that his reputation wouldn't have been shredded to nothing and that a judge would see sense and not send him to prison.

  "My er… my mother was a teenager when she had me. I understand that she was sixteen and still in school."

  "So how did you manage?" Lola asked shocked.

  "She left me at my father's doorstep and he took me in; he was barely older than her. I think he was nineteen at the time."

  Caleb shrugged. "I used to play with the neighborhood children in the street where I grew up. There was no discipline or love at home. My Aunt Reba was the only family member of my father's that had any interest in me. He used to visit her every two years or so, sometimes he'd take me and I would stay for a day."

  "The family was divided on some issue, which I can't remember now, so it was basically my father and me. My father worked as a bus driver and was rarely at home. When I was about six or so I made sure I went to school…fixed my own lunch and dinners. When I was ten, he brought home a woman named Miss Tilly. She taught me how to cook, and iron, and wash clothes properly. She stayed for two years; it was the only time in my life that I really had a mother figure."

  "Oh you poor thing." Lola wiped her eyes.

  Erica's eyes looked red and Tanya was sniffling.

  Only Phoebe was looking at him with an understandin
g in the depth of her eyes. He couldn’t fathom why the self-centered Phoebe was the only one who seemed to know where he was coming from.

  "So, ehem," Fred cleared his throat, "how did you come to be a chef?"

  "Well, I graduated high school but I had no hopes of going to college—there was no money. My father had moved to live with one of his ladies and they allowed me to live in their back room. I got a job as a dishwasher at a popular restaurant and then did night courses at a vocational institute… I did food and beverage management. I got a job at a farm in Canada saved all my money and invested in my education. I eventually reached the highest level in foods. I went and trained as a pastry chef and a chocolatier and worked with several hotels and restaurants."

  "From that rough beginning you really did well for yourself," Fred nodded. "Congrats, man."

  Caleb nodded. "Thank you."

  He was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when he looked up and his eyes connected with Lola's.

  "So why on earth are you moonlighting as Erica's yard boy?"

  The silence that greeted this question was deafening. Caleb wasn't sure how to answer that particular question. He would have to mention his marriage, his jail time, why he was in jail and then he was sure all hell would break loose.

  They would drive him from the table—sympathetic looks would turn to scorn, and shards of doubt, where trust and openness were once found, would be hidden behind shuttered eyes. That was the nature of his so-called crime. There was always a question of did he, or didn't he? Could he be trusted?

  He looked at Erica, who was also looking at him. Her curiosity was very obvious. He was sure it was something that she had wanted to ask him but had been afraid to broach. He was also sure that she was happy that she wasn't the one to have broached the issue.

  He wasn't going to lie; he had learnt long ago that the truth was always the best way to go. Besides, there was that little text that one of the church groups that used to conduct devotions at the prison used to use: Lying lips are an abomination unto the Lord and they that speak truly are his delight. So he'd tell them the truth, if they ostracized him it was just one more group of people to have done so. He sighed; he would miss Erica though. He was truly coming to like her. She was like a breath of fresh air to his otherwise barren life.

  "I … I..." he cleared his throat.

  "He doesn’t want to talk about it," Erica piped up. A look of sympathy flashed across her eyes and once more he marveled at how attuned she was to his feelings. It seemed as if she instinctively knew how far to push him.

  He squeezed her hand under the table and she squeezed his back.

  "But … " Lola piped up. Fred looked at her and she relaxed in her seat. Instead, she asked, "Who wants to taste my absolutely divine cream cheese covered banana cake?"

  "We all do," Erica smiled at her, trying to avoid the —I-am-not-done-with-your-friend look.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Erica struggled to open her eyes. The alarm clock she had set for four-thirty was ringing beside her head. She wondered what on earth had gotten into her last Tuesday when she had chirpily volunteered to help Caleb at five in the morning.

  She knew he had been joking but she had wanted to spend more time with him. Maybe she should call it off. A little white bird was in her mind's eye, flying off to sleepy-land, and she relaxed her body; she wanted to fly with it—soar to a restful land, forget about the man.

  Didn't her mother give her an earful, when she had gotten back from the dinner last night, about how sure she was that Caleb was hiding something? Erica had listened attentively while Lola huffed and puffed about Erica throwing her off the scent.

  "He was going to confess something," Lola had squealed. "You let him off the hook."

  "I think he needed some space. He will talk when he is ready," Erica had replied.

  Her mother hadn't wanted to let her off the phone—dissecting every single word that Caleb had spoken and now here she was six hours later, her eyes could barely open. She could feel the chill from the bedroom windows, which she had left wide open to let in the cool breeze.

  She snuggled under her sheet some more. What was the sense of exercising anyway? She was a nice size 16, so what if sometimes she looked in the mirror at her naked self and wished she was a size 4? Those days were long dead. She was comfortably addicted to chocolate ice cream—frosted cakes were her friends: they soothed her in her sorrow and celebrated with her when she was happy. She burrowed her head deeper under the sheet. But maybe Caleb preferred her slimmer? The unbidden thought stabbed her in her mind and she inhaled.

  What if he suggested the exercise program as a hint that he really wanted her to lose the weight? The thought kept gnawing at her mind until she sat up in bed sleepily. It would be nice to fit into some smaller sized clothes for a change, and to look fit and healthy. She dragged on her sweat suit, which hadn't seen the light of day for years and was now so tight it was almost x-rated. She shrugged sleepily. She had nothing else to wear.

  *******

  When she finally drove up to Caleb's house and looked at the dashboard clock, it was five-fifteen. There was a fog over the yard and everything was eerily still. She contemplated getting out of the car but the place was too foggy and dark. What if he had forgotten? The man didn’t have a dratted phone; she couldn’t call ahead and let him know she was coming.

  Then she heard a tapping on the glass and there he was, machete in hand and shirt off, as if he had been working.

  Erica got out of the car and instantly felt the cold air. "Morning!"

  "Hey." He had a perplexed look on his face. "So you really came. I couldn't believe it when your car pulled up in the yard."

  "Yup," Erica said scrunching up her face from the wind. "It is cold. How comes you are shirtless?"

  Caleb grinned and Erica couldn’t help but notice that he had a nice grin in the half dark.

  "I started out about half an hour ago." Caleb started walking. "Let's go, I am clearing out the east side of the property I want to build a goat pen so that I can keep track of the goats. It is up in the hills… watch your step… follow me."

  He proceeded to walk briskly and already Erica could feel her heart rate accelerating. Didn’t he realize that this was the first time in four years that she was attempting to exercise? She huffed and puffed and followed him as he steadily walked up hill. When she looked back she could see the top of the house. Thankfully, this part of the land had leveled off and she felt relief walking on the relatively flat area, but her shoes were squeezing her toes and she felt as if an arm was squeezing her lungs.

  Caleb looked back at her. "That's a bad wheeze you have there, nurse. Are you asthmatic?"

  Erica gasped. "I...am...sorry...I ...volunteered...for...this."

  Caleb whistled. "This is just warm up. I found an extra machete for you. We are going to cut some small trees and make a clearing over about half an acre of land. I am thinking that should be enough for the goats. The trees we cut down we will saw into lumber to make a nice fence area...Which reminds me, I need nails."

  He completely ignored Erica's grunting and groaning and started whistling a Bob Marley tune.

  "The sun is not shining nor is this weather sweet," Erica said painfully.

  Caleb laughed then stopped. "Do you see the goats?"

  Erica swiped sweat from her forehead and took off her long sleeved sweater. At least she had had the foresight to walk with a sleeveless tunic underneath the sweater or she would have been sweltering now. At least now she knows that she shouldn’t be wearing a sweater, no matter how cold it may seem outside in the mornings.

  "What goats?" She peered into the half-light and saw some white looking bodies shifting in the grass. "Oh, there they are. You have quite a few of them."

  "Yup," Caleb said. "God has truly blessed the three that Aunt Reba initially had."

  "So, we start here." Caleb pointed to a spot. "We want to clean out the undergrowth, get rid of some of the trees…thin it ou
t a bit. It is too thick for some of the fruit trees to grow and bear. Look at that poor mangled ackee tree…those over there are guava trees."

  Erica squinted into the distance, she could barely make out which trees he was pointing to, but he sounded happy and upbeat and she liked that, so she listened to him in a semi-tired daze, almost jumping when he placed the machete in her hand.

  "Let's go."

  "Go where?" Erica whined.

  "To chop trees," Caleb said sternly, then he started his infernal whistling again.

  *****

  Erica could barely move when she finally made it down to her car. She looked at her dashboard clock and saw that it was nine o'clock. The day was overcast so she had no idea that it was so late. She groaned; her hands were blistered and she could barely move her feet.

  "This is worse than boot camp." She glanced at Caleb tiredly. "I am tired and sore, I can see me now, hauling myself to work in the twelfth hour."

  Caleb smiled. "I never thought you would do it, or even keep up. I am sorry I misjudged you."

  Erica shrugged. "No problem, tomorrow I carry a pair of gloves, water and an energy bar."

  "Er, I could offer you some breakfast … "

  "No, can do," Erica pulled her feet into the car tiredly, "I am just going to go home have a shower, eat a protein bar and head to work."

  "Okay," Caleb looked at her, his deep brown eyes filled with mirth. "I will completely understand if you cannot make it tomorrow morning."

  Erica reading the challenge for what it was looked at him tiredly. "I'll be here."

  Caleb saluted her. "Have a nice day."

  Erica groaned. "You too."

  CHAPTER TEN

  If anybody had told Erica that she would have been bonding with a man while helping him clear his land, she would have laughed them to scorn. In the five months since she started to drive up to Caleb's in the morning she had lost a whopping twenty-five pounds.