Looking For Trouble (8 page)

Alexandria nodded. “She also told me to look for the diamond, because the one who has it will be the one who'll help save me.”

“ ‘The diamond'?” Victoria repeated. “Do you think she's talking about a ring?”

“I don't know, Mom. But whatever it is that I'm supposed to find, I think it's here, in this house. The feeling I had right after I heard Grandma Allene's voice led me straight here to you.”

Victoria let go of Alexandria's hand. “There's an old chest down in the basement that I found at your grandparents' house after Daddy died. I brought it here, but I've never been able to bring myself to open it. I think it's time now. Let's go.”

Chapter 11

A
fter Allene finished her delicious meal of chicken and dumplings, she walked back out to her front porch and took a seat in her beloved rocking chair. “He should be pullin' up any minute now,” she said aloud.

Allene looked out at the clear blue sky and breathed in the fresh air. Just like the magnolias in her front yard, the heat of the day was in full, radiant bloom. She enjoyed the sweet scent of the flowers while she could, knowing the next twenty-four hours were going to be nerve-racking for her, and they were also going to be the most important hours of her young grandson's life. “Lord, I thank you for allowing me to see what's comin',” she whispered into the air.

Allene had come to accept her gift of prophesy. She'd learned never to question what she couldn't explain, because she knew the answers would always make themselves known in due time. When she was a young woman, she had anguished about the powers she possessed, afraid to reveal them to others for fear of being ostracized and labeled a “voodoo woman,” as her great-grandmother had been.

But as time moved on, she grew into the awareness of her blessing and quietly cultivated her gift. And now, as she continued to savor the magnolia blossoms' sweet scent, she was finally coming to understand her purpose—the one that Susan Jessup had prophesized to her one cold, dark night, eighty-four years ago.

 

Allene's great-grandmother, Susan Jessup, died ten years before Allene was born. Susan had been a beautiful Ghanaian woman who arrived on American soil when she was sixteen years old. She was one of three hundred Africans who had survived the harrowing seven-week transatlantic journey on the
Lady Maria,
a pirate slave ship whose destination landed her at the Port of Charleston, in South Carolina. Susan had been kidnapped by European traders, ripping her away from her family and the comfort of the only home she had ever known.

Susan spent less than five minutes on the auction block before she was sold to William Jessup, a fair-looking, middle-aged wealthy plantation owner who had a penchant for expensive liquor and pretty women. Jessup had paid top dollar for Susan, outbidding his competition. He had been amazed by her startling appearance. Her tall, dark body, strong limbs, bright eyes, erect posture, and beautiful face defied the look of someone who had been at sea for nearly two months, cramped in the squalor of unthinkable living conditions aboard the ship. He could see right away that Susan was special, and unlike any other slave he had ever encountered.

He refused to put her to work in the backbreaking fields. He gave the overseer strict instructions not to ever let the lash of a whip near her smooth skin, and he forbade any of the male slaves to bed her. He wanted her to remain pure, supple, and ripe for his own picking.

Jessup remanded Susan to duties in the cook's cabin, where her labor would be lighter than the hardship suffered by slaves in the fields. But as it turned out, Susan was a terrible cook and lasted for only one month before she was given the new duty of washing and mending clothes.

Jessup's leniency and obvious favoritism toward Susan made some of the slaves simmer with jealousy, while provoking mistrust in others. Only the plantation cook, whom she had briefly worked under, even bothered to speak to her directly. Susan's existence on the Jessup plantation was a lonely one. Meanwhile, Jessup coveted young Susan, watching and waiting several months before he made his first trip down to her cabin one hot summer night.

Allene remembered the legendary story, word for word, as it had been told to her by her mother. . . .

When Jessup finally felt the time was right, he gave orders for two male slaves to build a tiny one-room cabin for Susan. He did this so he could make his visits in private. Talk of Jessup's intentions quickly spread throughout the slave quarters. A few of the women who had been victims of their master's lust quietly prayed for Susan, while others who had borne his children became worried about their diminished standing, fearing what would become of them once he took to Susan's bed over their own. Susan was both pitied and reviled in the foreign land she inhabited. But it didn't bother her, nor did she lose one night's sleep over her fate. She wasn't worried, because she knew what the outcome would be before it happened.

Jessup waited until shortly after dusk to walk from the main house down to Susan's cabin. He was determined to have her, taking long strides with intent on his face and heat in his eyes. When he reached her door, he walked through the threshold and found her sitting in a rocking chair, waiting as if she had known he was coming.

Fifteen minutes later, the door to Susan's cabin flew open and a frightened-looking man appeared. In the short span of time that Jessup had been alone with Susan, his thick dark brown hair had turned into a whisper-thin mix of snowy white strands. His large, wide-set eyes became small, sunken slits, outlined by deep, puffy bags. And his clear alabaster skin had morphed into a dull, ashen hue.

From that night onward, Jessup stayed away from Susan, as well as all the other slave women on the plantation. It had been his practice to sell off a few slave children each year to other plantations in neighboring districts. But from that night forward, not a single child born on the Jessup Plantation was ripped from his mother's arms. And from that night forward, everyone feared Susan. She was given the name “voodoo woman.”

Allene was six years old the first time Susan visited her in one of her dreams.

“You are a very special little girl,” Susan told her, speaking in her thick Ghanaian accent. “Only the girl children born of our blood can carry the gift in their veins. Not for three more generations from you will another of us be born this way. When she is old enough, you will go to her, as I have come to you. She will be a princess, born of a queen. When you go to her, she will at first be afraid. But very quickly, she will adapt. She will learn fast, and you will guide her the same way I am going to guide you.”

 

The smooth sound of John's rental car drew Allene from her deep, reminiscing thoughts. A wide smile slid across her face as she caught sight of her grandson walking up to her, crunching gravel under his polished loafers with each step he took.

“It's about time you came by to see me!” Allene grinned as John stepped onto the porch.

“Hey, Grandma!” John said with excitement, bending down to give Allene a kiss on her cheek. He took a seat on the edge of the porch next to her ancient rocking chair.

Allene smiled and her face beamed with pride. “Look at you, just as handsome as you wanna be.”

“I get it, honest. Good genes can't be denied. Grandma, you don't look a day over—”

“Twenty-one.” Allene smiled and winked.

John nodded. “That's right.”

“You want to go inside where it's nice and cool?”

“I'd rather sit out here, if you don't mind the heat.”

“I don't mind at all. That's why I'm out here. I love sittin' on this old porch in this old chair. It's somethin' soothin' about it.”

“It sure is. And it's a nice change of pace from the city.”

“So, where's that girlfriend of yours?”

John sighed. “I guess Mama called and told you about Madeline, huh?”

Allene looked up at the clear sky and smiled. She hadn't spoken with Henrietta since yesterday morning, when she called with news that John had left New York and was headed to Nedine for Maxx Sanders's big birthday party. But Allene didn't need her daughter-in-law or anyone else to tell her what she already knew.

“You left her at the hotel?” Allene asked, sidestepping John's question.

“Yes, ma'am. I know I should've brought her with me because she really wanted to meet you.”

“She did?”

“Yes, she did, but I couldn't do it. I needed to get away. I needed some space.”

Allene nodded, glad that he was already seeing the light.

She loved her grandson more than she could put into words. Since the day John was born, she knew that he was destined for greatness. He was special, and his offspring would be, too. Allene had seen it as clearly as the bright sky, just as it had been prophesized to her by her great-grandmother.

“You two having troubles?” Allene asked.

John smiled, rubbing his hand across his smooth chin. “Grandma, you're the wisest woman I know.”

“It don't take wisdom to know when things ain't right. If a man brings his woman home to meet his family and then leaves her at a hotel by herself, well, that's a sign of trouble.”

“Yes, ma'am. It is,” John replied.

Allene raised her brow. “She got a name?”

“Madeline . . . Madeline King.”

“King? She ain't from around here, is she?”

“No ma'am.” John laughed. “She was born and raised in New York, and prides herself on being a serious city girl.”

When she asked the question, Allene knew that Madeline wasn't from Nedine, but there was something about the feel of the woman's name on her tongue that made her believe his girlfriend wasn't from New York City, either. “Hmmm” was all Allene could say. “I'll be right back.”

She rose from her chair and went into the house. When she emerged a few minutes later, she was carrying two large glasses filled with freshly squeezed, ice-cold lemonade, compliments of Henrietta's trip a few days ago.

“Thanks, Grandma,” John said, taking a long gulp of the refreshing drink.

“Tell me what's goin' on with you, John?”

“Grandma, I'm so confused,” John admitted. “I don't know what's going on with Madeline.”

“How do you mean, baby?”

“I knew that Madeline was spoiled and a bit . . . uh . . . ‘fussy,' as you would say. She's headstrong and confident, and she has a forceful personality.”

“Oh, does she?”

John nodded. “Yeah, and, trust me, I know she's not for everyone. But she's always treated me well. And when we're together, she's kind and affectionate. She practically caters to my every need.” John let out a deep sigh, shaking his head. “I knew she had her share of faults—we all do. But I didn't know how shallow, rude, and downright mean she could be. And talk about moody! She changes from one minute to the next. I've been dating Madeline for a year, but today it was like I saw a whole different side of her . . . like I was seeing her for the very first time.”

Allene picked up her glass and took a sip of her drink. “Maybe you was.”

“You think she's been pretending this whole time? Or maybe it's just that I've been a big fool?”

“Baby, you ain't no fool. You just human, and a man at that.”

“That last part was cold, Grandma.”

“But true.”

John took another sip of his lemonade and chuckled. “I graduated in the top ten percent of my class at UPenn. I became the youngest member inducted into the Boule's Manhattan chapter. I'm the highest ranking black person at the investment bank where I work, and I'm getting ready to open my very own bank soon, God willing. All that didn't just happen miraculously. I worked hard and I earned it by making smart decisions.”

“Yes, you did.”

“So how could I be so blind about someone who's right under my nose?”

Allene tilted her head to the side and smiled. “You know I love
The Guiding Light,
don't you?”

“Yeah, I know that's your show.”

“Uh-huh, and those folks cut up so bad they make me talk back to the television. But they're just actin'. All that carryin' on they're doin' is made up. It's a careful written script. You know what I mean?”

John nodded.

“Baby, what you said about her pretendin' all this time? Well, sometimes people show us what they want us to see.”

“Well, I'm looking with a new pair of eyes now.”

“You ain't the first man to be fooled by a woman, and you won't be the last,” Allene said. She reached over and patted her grandson's shoulder. “You close to fulfillin' a lot of dreams, John. Dreams that you don't even know about right now, but I do.”

John looked into his grandmother's wise, old eyes. “What dreams are you talking about, Grandma?”

Allene wanted to tell John all that she knew was in store for him if he made it safely through this weekend, but she couldn't. The truth—that he would own a bank that would grow to a half-dozen branches in North Carolina's state capital, amass more wealth than even his father had obtained, and be blessed to have a loving wife, a beautiful and successful daughter, loving grandchildren, and would live nine decades in peace and happiness—was too much for his rational mind to absorb in the here and now. She knew that prophesies and spirits didn't exist in his structured world, which was ruled by logic and reason. So instead of telling him what had been prophesized to her by a nineteenth-century ghost and witnessed by her own eyes, she simply told him what he needed to hear at the moment.