The Jumbee (33 page)

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.”

Esti’s mouth went dry. She dropped the book of land ownership she was holding and clutched the library table.

“I love thee to the, um, to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach, uh . . .”

Although her heart still pounded, she began to smile.

“I love thee to the level of every day’s most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.”

As she heard a soft rattle of paper behind her, she glanced around to see Rafe peer at something in his hand. When he saw her move, he immediately looked up at her, his eyes solemn. He looked much better today, if not yet back to his gorgeous self.

“I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee . . . I love thee . . . oh, crap. Something about passion in my childhood. And, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.”

Esti pressed her hand against her mouth to keep from laughing.

“I figured I better learn some Shakespeare,” he said, abashed. “Maybe you’ll forgive me for being such a
crappo
last night.”

Esti bit her lip. “That isn’t Shakespeare.”

He stared at her in dismay. “What is it?”

“Browning, I think. Elizabeth—”

“Chupse.”
He crumpled the paper in disgust. “My dad said it was Shakespeare.”

“It worked, anyway.”

“It did?” He looked hopefully at her.

Esti couldn’t hold back a giggle. As the librarian cleared her throat at the front desk, Esti gave Rafe a quick kiss. She pulled him over to the table where she’d been stacking books.

“You’re not wearing the necklace,” he said softly. “Is it because I broke it?”

“No, I fixed it.” Esti hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m just not wearing it anymore.”

Rafe stared at her for a minute, then kissed her again. When the librarian cleared her throat even louder, he pulled away and looked at the table.

“
Historical Origins of Shakespeare. Mythology of the Danish Vikings.
Hmm.
Land Titles and Island Ownership.
You study way too much. My dad said you walked out on the jumbee last night after he tried to talk to you. Just like you did to me when I was being a jerk before rehearsal. You’re smarter than both of us.”

Esti shook her head.

“Everyone’s talking about you again,” Rafe said. “Like usual. I had to educate a couple customers at lunch today, but they took it well. I even got a tip from one of them.” He smiled. “I think it’s because I’m so beautiful right now.”

“You are.” Esti couldn’t help smiling back. “And you’ll end up in huge trouble because of me. Again.”

“I’d be in trouble anyway. Look, I gotta get back in time for the dinner rush, but I wanted to come and apologize.”

“It was a beautiful apology.”

He gave her a more thorough kiss this time, grinning at the librarian as he sauntered out the door. It seemed like only a few minutes before the librarian told her the doors were closing. Esti stretched and glanced at her watch.

“Ahh,” she groaned. Frederick and Rodney had talked her into coming back to rehearsal—surrounded by cops and all—but she was late again. Frederick was going to kill her.

As she raced across campus through a light rain, she shook her head in disgust. She couldn’t even read most of the complicated Danish names. The property titles only covered parcels on Cariba. How was anyone supposed to find out who owned the other islands?

To her surprise, Carmen sat on the ground outside the theater building, slumped against the wet doors.

“You okay?” Esti asked.

“Why should you care?”

She took a step back. “What?”

“Everything’s messed up, you idiot. You hadn’t noticed? After your little drama queen scene last night, someone destroyed all the sets. I’m sure you heard about Lucia and her mom. Frederick yelled at
me
because the sets are wrecked and you can’t play Juliet because Lucia won’t play Lady Capulet, so you might as well not even show up now.”

Carmen heaved herself to her feet. “Then Frederick yelled at me again because you’re late tonight, like I’m your babysitter. He’s making everyone work on sets tonight. Everyone hates me, and the place is crawling with jandam, and the play’s a disaster. It’s all your fault.”

Esti blinked. “Carmen—”

“You need all the attention, don’t you? Never enough drama without adding a little more. You’re a fantastic actress, and everyone except Danielle would love to be your friend, but you’re so secretive and intimidating. I give up. You probably don’t even care if you ruin this chance for everyone else. I mean, you’re The Great Legard’s daughter. What else do you need?” Without waiting for a reply, Carmen stomped back into the theater and slammed the door behind her.

Esti stared at the closed doors, stunned. After a minute, she slowly turned and began the trudge up Bayrum Hill. No matter how mad Frederick might be, no matter how many jandam were waiting for her, she couldn’t do it. She wanted to go home and feel Aurora’s comforting arms around her, telling her a bedtime story that ended with
happily ever after
.

“What are you doing here?” Aurora said in a startled voice. “I thought you were going straight to rehearsal from the library.” Her expression grew concerned. “What happened?”

Esti closed the front door, surprised to see George Moore sitting casually on the couch beside her mom. She wondered if she had interrupted something.

“They’re—uh—we’re all working on sets tonight,” she said. “Everyone’s mad at me because I ran out last night.”

“Sweetie—”

The phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, Esti grabbed it before her mom could stand up.

“Hi, Frederick.”

“We’re
waiting
for you,” he said testily.

“I know I’m late.” She shot a guilty look at her mom. If something nice was starting between Aurora and Officer Moore, Esti wouldn’t let her own selfishness get in their way. She had screwed things up enough. “I’ll be right there.”

“I’ve worked with a lot of divas, darling, but you are trying my patience.”

“I’m sorry, Frederick. Ten minutes, I promise.” She hung up before he could say anything else, then abruptly forgot about rehearsal as she glanced at George Moore’s uniform. “
You
probably know how to find out about property ownership.”

“Whose property?” he asked, unfazed.

She took a deep breath, her scalp tight with tension. “Manchineel Cay,” she said. “I want to know who owns it.”

Aurora’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“So I can learn who Alan really is.”

“Listen, Esti—”

“Why not?” Officer Moore shrugged at Aurora, then leaned back, pulling his cell phone from his belt. “Let me make a couple of calls, then I’ll drive you down to the school.”

Esti watched in astonishment as he dialed a number. Could it be that easy?

“Rodney, it’s me . . . Yeah, everything’s okay. Look, I’m trying to find the legal owner of Manchineel Cay. Who can help me here?” He paused, then let out a burst of laughter. “Your jokes are getting stale. I heard that one months ago. Okay, I’m ready to write . . . Celestine Samuel from the tax assessor’s office. I know that name. Doesn’t she have those nine-inch fingernails, and she started in on—ha, I thought so. She won’t mind if I call her at home?”

He hesitated, then winked at Esti. “She’s standing right in front of me. I’m doing this for her, actually.” He paused again. “Sure, Rodney, I will. Thanks.”

“Esti, can you help me set the table while George makes his phone calls?” Aurora said stiffly. “He’s having dinner with us.”

“Good evening, Miss Samuel?” He was already talking again. “Rodney Solomon gave me your number.”

“Why don’t you have a quick bite of chicken, Esti, before you go back down to the school?”

Esti shook her head, trying to hear Officer Moore over her mom’s chatter.
George,
she thought. Aurora had used his first name.

“Five years ago?” His voice dropped in surprise. “I didn’t know that . . . Yes, of course I believe you. If the taxes are always paid up, there’s not much you can do. And that assessor was never seen again? . . . Well, if that doesn’t beat the band. I know the jandam won’t go near the island anymore—”

Aurora started filling water glasses, and Esti turned the faucet off, begging with her eyes to be quiet and listen.

“I suppose the government can’t just condemn the whole place,” George continued. “Oh, it went to court? No kidding. I imagine it
would
become a big liability. What else can you do? . . . Yes, she is an interesting girl, and we’re not about to let anything happen to her. . . . Don’t worry, we’ll keep the jumbees away. . . . That’s right, and thank you, Miss Samuel, I do appreciate it. I’ll let Mr. Solomon know. Have a good evening.”

Esti stared at him with a sinking feeling.

“Well,
this
isn’t a typical thing.” He sat back against the couch.

“Why?” Aurora asked. “What did you find out?”

He shook his head. “The title of the cay is controversial. The government tried taking it over about five years ago, but a guy disappeared while surveying the island. Never found another trace of him. Then some attorneys showed up and slammed the government with illegal trespass and confiscation of private property. No one ever discovered who hired the lawyers, but these guys knew what they were doing. Local officials settled out of court, put danger signs all over the place, and washed their hands of it. Now they refuse to have anything to do with the island.”

He paused, giving Esti a look of exasperation. He clearly enjoyed the anticipation.

“So, who owns it?” she asked wearily. “There’s got to be a name on the title. Did Miss Samuel actually tell you, or what?”

“Esti,” Aurora said. “Don’t be rude.”

“The name on the title of Manchineel Cay . . .” George hesitated for a long moment, then finally gave in. “Well, I guess it’s not a big surprise. Elon Somand, just like it’s been for over two hundred years.”

Act Three. Scene Four.

Esti felt dozens of eyes on her as she stopped in front of Lucia’s apartment house the next afternoon. Lightning flashed somewhere nearby, but she barely heard the thunder over the rain pouring down on the metal roof.
Alpha
, they were calling the storm growing in the Atlantic east of Cariba. Hurricanes never hit in January, of course, although a few people were making halfhearted preparations.

She might be imagining the eyes, Esti thought. Only idiots would brave this kind of weather, looking for a two-hundred-year-old jumbee.

“Inside.” The word came out barely louder than a whisper. Nothing happened. She tried again, louder, then finally gave up and knocked on the door. It swung open almost immediately.

“Come,” Lucia said.

Esti’s heart went into her throat. She took off her shoes and her dripping raincoat, then followed Lucia into the living room. The smell of fried johnnycakes and sugar filled the air. Ma Harris and her brother, Domino, sat on overstuffed chairs in front of the noisy television, Quintin sprawled on the couch beside them. Their eyes didn’t leave Esti as Lucia turned off the TV and dragged two hard-backed chairs in from the kitchen.

“Esti,” she said. “You sit here.”

Esti wondered if anyone could hear her heart pounding over the thundering rain on the roof. She sat on the edge of one chair, acutely aware of the jumbee masks and tribal statues glaring at her from all sides of the room. Gathering all her courage, she finally looked at Ma Harris.

“I want to talk about Alan.”

Ma Harris narrowed her eyes.

“Do you know who he really is?”

Ma Harris didn’t answer. Lucia perched rigidly on the edge of the other kitchen chair, glancing from her mother to Esti. Quintin alone seemed relaxed, staring at Esti with open curiosity.

Esti tried again. “I think you help him somehow. I hoped you might know his real name.”

As the silence got thicker, Esti finally gave Lucia a pleading look.

“Why you want to know?” Lucia asked, although her expression seemed sympathetic. “You cause many problem.”

“I know,” Esti whispered, defeated. “But—”

“Too many problem,” Ma Harris muttered.

Esti didn’t have the energy to defend herself. “Never mind. I’m sorry.”

No one stopped her as she walked back to the door and slipped her coat and shoes on. She was dragging herself up Bayrum Hill half an hour later when an unfamiliar voice behind her made her jump.

“Hey, Esti!”

She swung around to see Quintin vigorously splashing through puddles, his dreadlocks trailing behind him as he ran.

“Lucia she want me tell you someting,” he panted, coming to a stop. “Her ma she got de vex from being fired an’ ting. She upset what de jumbee did. She fear you, an’ you fear she, an’ Lucia fear she, an’ everyone fear de jumbee.” He gave her a quick grin. “I ain’t fear nobody.”