Chapter Thirteen

At the exit from the housing development, she almost followed her first instinct and turned right, towards the town. If she went that way, she would eventually get to Montego Bay, and if she went even farther, she’d end up in Portland, a parish in the northeast of the island. She’d never been there; maybe now would be a good time.

But she suddenly realized she was hungry, and she could do with another serving of curried lionfish, so she turned left and drove towards Naydia’s. As she drove past a facility owned by the local water company, she realized that with all that had been happening, she had not yet paid the household bills. Two days ago, she would have become anxious, but not today. Let her mother worry about keeping the electricity, water, and telephone service on. Let Joanna fund her own trips to the market and the supermarket. It was about time she spent a few hours meal-planning so she could buy exactly what she needed and not have to worry about fresh vegetables spoiling before they could be used—effectively throwing money into the garbage.

Zoë-Grace was done. Done with dodging collections agencies’ calls. Done with going to various micro-loan agencies with sky-high interest rates, seeking enough cash to tide her over from one emergency to the next. Done with getting up every day and going to a job she hated because her mother didn’t want to live alone. Done with listening to Joanna disparage her father because of where and how he had died. She was just done.

Before she knew it, she was turning into the parking area at Naydia’s. She hadn’t even noticed as the little car had eaten up the miles. She sat in the hatchback for a moment, trying to calm herself down and take her mind off her mother. There was a large bus in the parking area, and as she looked around, she could see dozens of tourists taking photos with the sea in the background. The bus blocked her view of the cook shop, but she had no doubt that Naydia was busy preparing meals for these visitors.

Zoë-Grace wasn’t in a hurry, so she made her way to one of the shaded picnic benches and relaxed. The tourists hadn’t seated themselves yet, so she was alone for the time being. From her new vantage point, she could see that a line of patrons had formed at the window. Naydia would be in her element today.

Isaiah was glad he was sitting when his secretary brought in the newspapers during his mid-morning coffee break. When he read the headlines on one of the two major national newspapers, his first thought was that it must be a slow news day. His second thought was to call Zoë-Grace again, but when he tried to do just that, the call went straight to voice mail. Her phone was still turned off.

He looked at the newspaper again and shook his head. The headline screamed, “Teacher’s Name Brings Her ‘Goodluck’!” The article featured pictures of Zoë-Grace collecting her fake check, then summed up the previous day’s ceremony at the lottery company’s headquarters, with a focus on the fact that the winner was a former teacher whose last name was Goodluck.

The article went on to speculate whether the winner was related to Vincent Goodluck, a church deacon from the same part of the country where the winning ticket had been sold, who had died while waiting to buy a lottery ticket over a year earlier. Mention was made of the popularity of #churchhypocrite and #thegamblingdeacon in the aftermath, and it suddenly became clear to Isaiah why Zoë-Grace had been so reluctant to collect the jackpot. Vincent Goodluck must have been her father. No wonder she’d said winning the lottery was so complicated. And because he’d been away, she had been the one to be named in the newspaper. He sighed, sorry he had put her through that.

Isaiah wondered if she had seen the newspaper. This kind of publicity was exactly what she feared. He wished he could have protected her from it, but the situation had been completely beyond his control. He wondered how the reporter had known that Zoë-Grace used to work at the Lucea Community College. He was sure she hadn’t done any interviews.

For the past few years, he had managed to keep most people at arm’s length. It seemed easier in a world where a friend you were laughing and exchanging stories with one minute, might be blown to smithereens the very next. Yet it seemed Zoë-Grace Goodluck had infiltrated his defenses without even trying. His mind kept wandering to her even when he was doing other things. She hadn’t seemed overly interested in being friends with him, but he was glad she hadn’t resisted his attempts to befriend her. Protecting others was in his nature, but something about her made him want to go a step further. She carried a certain level of vulnerability that intrigued him, but he didn’t even want to try and figure out why she invoked those kinds of feelings in him.

Even though he knew her phone was off, he sent her a text message she would see eventually. All he wrote was, Hey, let me know how things are.

He was surprised when she responded almost immediately with, I wish I could crawl under the covers and stay there for a few weeks.

ISAIAH: Rough morning?

ZOË-GRACE: The roughest.

ISAIAH: :( Sorry to hear that. Anything I can do?

ZOË-GRACE: Probably not, but thanks for asking.

ISAIAH: How’s your mom?

ZOË-GRACE: Don’t ask.

ISAIAH: K. How’s Maxwell? Is he with you?

ZOË-GRACE: Maxwell? Still in Kingston. The semester doesn’t start for another few days.

ISAIAH: He didn’t take a couple of days off... maybe offer a little support?

ZOË-GRACE: Nope. He’s busy.

ISAIAH: K. Was he was there yesterday?

ZOË-GRACE: No.

ISAIAH: How come?

ZOË-GRACE: He wasn’t invited. Haven’t even told him yet. I figure he’s heard by now. Him and the whole country.

ISAIAH: You haven’t spoken to him about this?

ZOË-GRACE: No. I already know what he’s going to say.

ISAIAH: Which is?

ZOË-GRACE: Let’s ditch everything and go take a world tour... or something like that.

ISAIAH: Sounds like a good plan.

ZOË-GRACE: Maybe for him.

ISAIAH: But not for you?

ZOË-GRACE: No. I have responsibilities.

ISAIAH: Ah, yes, those complications you’re always mentioning.

ZOË-GRACE: Sigh. Yep.

ISAIAH: I’m a great listener.

ZOË-GRACE: I’m sure you are, but I don’t want to talk about it.

ISAIAH: No problem. What’s on your agenda today?

ZOË-GRACE: I’d rather not say.

ISAIAH: A regular fountain of information, aren’t you?

ZOË-GRACE: A little bit of a stalker, aren’t you?

ISAIAH: Real funny, Zoë-Grace. I thought we were friends.

ZOË-GRACE: Whatever gave you that idea?

ISAIAH: Ouch!

ZOË-GRACE: Sorry. I’m not in the best mood. I guess it’s safe to say you’re not befriending me for my money.

ISAIAH: Funny! :D

ZOË-GRACE: I try. Anyway, I’m a pretty private person.

ISAIAH: I get that.

ZOË-GRACE: So how has YOUR day been going?

ISAIAH: No fires to put out thus far, so I guess it counts as a good day. Have you seen today’s newspapers?

ZOË-GRACE: No. Why?

ISAIAH: You might want to pick up a copy.

He reached for the newspaper he had been reading earlier and snapped a quick photograph of the headline and the photo.

ZOË-GRACE: Oh, no! I made the front page?

ISAIAH: Unfortunately.

ZOË-GRACE: Literally the LAST thing I need right now. I really need to find somewhere to lie low for a few days.

ISAIAH: You’re welcome to come stay here.

ZOË-GRACE: At your hotel?

ISAIAH: It’s not my hotel, but yes.

ZOË-GRACE: I think that would only make things worse. If Maxwell wasn’t busy wrapping things up, I’d go stay with him... he lives in an apartment on campus, at least for now.

ISAIAH: K. So you really don’t want to stay home?

ZOË-GRACE: I don’t intend to. Need to be myself for a couple days. Some stuff has come up (and no, I don’t want to discuss). Don’t want to be home.

ISAIAH: Understood. So what are you up to now?

ZOË-GRACE: I’m just chilling by the side of the road.

ISAIAH: HUH? Where?

ZOË-GRACE: Remember that little cook shop by the sea you were supposed to meet me?

ISAIAH: Want some company?

ZOË-GRACE: Don’t you have a job?

ISAIAH: I do. On a slow day like today I can disappear for a couple hours. Plus, I’ve gone above and beyond since Boxing Day. I’m serious, Zoë-Grace. If you need me to come chill with you, it’s not a problem.

ZOË-GRACE: Promise not to ask me questions about my personal life?

ISAIAH: Maybe.

ZOË-GRACE: Isaiah.

ISAIAH: OK. I promise not to ask questions about the complications in your life.

ZOË-GRACE: Thanks. Bring your appetite. Treat me to a late lunch. I might order the lobster. I heard you’re coming into some $$$!

Isaiah grinned as he got to his feet. The hotel could always call him if there was an emergency. One of the downsides of being a manager was the need to be among the first to arrive at work and the last to leave, but at least that gave him the leeway to take a couple of hours off when he needed to. And today, he needed to. He folded both daily newspapers and tucked them under his arm before heading out the door.

Isaiah almost missed Zoë-Grace’s car as he sped along the highway looking for the spot to which she had directed him. At the very last moment, he turned into the parking area, spraying a little gravel as he did so. He spotted her sitting under a tree as soon as he got out of the SUV. She was chatting with a woman wearing a turban. Zoë-Grace, whose back was to the parking lot, twisted in the seat to see who was approaching. He left the newspapers on the passenger seat, stepped out of the vehicle, and slammed the door.

Striding towards them, he couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. He was pleased to see Zoë-Grace, and in this very moment, the expression on her face told him she was just as pleased—and maybe a little relieved—to see him, too.

“You’re just in time to buy me that late lunch.” Zoë-Grace grinned. “Isaiah, this is Naydia. Naydia, my friend Isaiah.”

“The pleasure is mine, Naydia. No need to get up on my account.” He took the seat beside Zoë-Grace and impulsively kissed her on the cheek. She stiffened almost imperceptibly, but Naydia spoke before she could say anything.

“Well, somebody has to cook the lunch you’re about to buy her.” Naydia grinned, showing a wide gap between her front teeth. “What’ll you have, Zoë-Grace? The usual?”

“Just some roast breadfruit for me, please. And steamed veg, if you have it.”

Isaiah shook his head jokingly at the title many Jamaicans used with others. “Any rice and peas in there?” He gestured towards the little shack that served as a kitchen.

“How come you didn’t offer me tomatoes?” Zoë-Grace asked with mischief written across her face.

A moment later, she handed him a glass filled with ice and a plastic bottle of soda. He accepted them with a smile that mirrored hers. He poured the soda and brought the glass to his lips. There was truly nothing quite like a cold Ting.

“Just her attitude to life, I guess. She’s had so many challenges but she’s always smiling. One of those people who always see the glass half-full.”

They sat quietly for a long while and stared out at the sea beyond them. Isaiah had always loved the ocean. Even so, he’d figured that after a couple of months living and working so close to it, he would have become somewhat immune to its beauty. He was surprised that he still enjoyed just sitting and staring at it. It made him feel very small in a great big world, and in a place where people treated him like he filled every room he entered, he enjoyed feeling like he was just a tiny speck on the world map.

“When I grow up, I wanna be like you.” Zoë-Grace said, her gaze still aimed at the Caribbean.

“I want a job that I can just get up and leave in the middle of the afternoon to go sit and stare at the ocean.”

“If all I wanted to do was stare at the ocean, I could have stayed at work.”

“I drove all the way out here for the company.” He placed his elbows on the table and laced his fingers under his chin, his head angled to look at her.

She stubbornly refused to make eye contact with him, choosing to keep staring straight ahead. “Sounds like a lot of work to do for a friend.”

She shrugged. “A few. There’s Maxwell. And maybe a couple other people I could call in an emergency.”

“I didn’t ask you to come.” She sounded a little defensive, and he could see her irritation when she turned to face him. Sometimes he wondered if defensiveness was her default mode.

Zoë-Grace didn’t have a chance to respond before he asked the questions that had been on his mind since he’d driven out of the hotel more than half an hour earlier. “How is it that Maxwell isn’t the one sitting here with you? I’m surprised he wasn’t there yesterday. I’d have thought he’d be the first person you’d call when you found out about the winning ticket.”

She sighed and put a little distance between them on the bench. If she moved any further, she’d probably fall off. Maybe she’d let him catch her.

“I haven’t seen Maxwell since that weekend at your hotel. He has school, I work, and we rarely see each other these days, which is fine with both of us. Whenever we reunite, it’s like we were never apart.”

Isaiah wrinkled his brow. Zoë-Grace didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would get involved in a pick-up-from-last-time kind of relationship. Maybe he had read her wrong.

Isaiah almost choked on his Ting. He turned to look at her. “The what type?”

His mind went blank for a moment. What was she saying? Did she think he was gay? Rather than speculate, he prompted, “Meaning?”

“It’s just that you’ve mentioned Maxwell a couple of times since this whole fiasco began.”

“I can assure you I don’t have a man-crush, whatever that is. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“Curious about what, exactly? I mean... you only met him once, more than a month ago. What is it about him that piques your curiosity even now?”

He took a sip of his Ting and capped the bottle. “It’s not him, necessarily. It’s the whole situation. I just find it odd that you would win the lottery—jointly with another man, no less—and not mention it to your boyfriend.”

“It’s not odd. It’s pretty simple, actually. Maxwell isn’t my boyfriend,” she said matter-of-factly.

He wasn’t? Isaiah couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “Does Maxwell know that?”

She laughed again. “Of course! You should see the way he ogles other women when we’re together. I’d have to be blind to not see that he’s looking elsewhere. Trust me, there’s nothing but friendship between Maxwell Shaw and me. He’s a close friend. I just haven’t been ready to discuss this latest situation with him, or anyone but you, for that matter.”

Isaiah was glad that Naydia chose that moment to return, balancing a large serving tray. She placed two plates of steaming food in front of them, along with various side plates and bowls. Zoë-Grace’s eyes widened as she took in the spread. “Wow, Naydia. You never set me up like that.”

Naydia laughed. “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I can tell that this man is used to the royal treatment. If I treat him like a king on day one, he’ll be back, you mark my words.”

Isaiah chuckled. “No argument there, but as they say—” he reached for his knife and fork “—the proof of the pudding is in the eating. Until I taste this, I make no promises about returning.”

He carefully loaded his fork with some of the curried fish and brought it to his lips, stopping to blow the steam away and cool it down a little. No sense burning his mouth in front of two ladies who were watching him with bated breath. He placed the food into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and then repeated the process.

They both laughed, and Naydia shook her finger playfully in Zoë-Grace’s direction. “Told you!”

“Thanks for the offer, but no thanks. My early dinner crowd will be here in another thirty minutes. I can set my clock by them.”

Isaiah couldn’t help but wonder where the early dinner crowd was going to be coming from. As far as the eye could see, there were only a few shacks around.

He hadn’t forgotten Zoë-Grace’s declaration about the nature of her relationship with Maxwell. He was more than a little thrilled to find out they weren’t together, but what would he do with that information now that he had it? He needed to take a step back and analyze the situation before deciding on his next move. As attractive as she had become to him, he didn’t want to say or do something stupid today... like kiss her, even if it were both the first and the last thing he wanted to do.

Right now, with her face plastered above the fold of the most popular local newspaper and her father’s story being resurrected, she was more vulnerable than ever. He needed to tread lightly with her. Even though she and Maxwell weren’t a couple, that didn’t automatically mean that she was available to him. Nor did it mean he was available to her. She didn’t need a man who would be in her life for a few months and then leave. She was the type of woman a man settled down and built a life with, and he wasn’t looking for that kind of woman. He didn’t want to settle down. Maybe he never would. He’d never been the committed type... not even when the woman made his heart leap in his chest just by telling him she wasn’t in a relationship.

Zoë-Grace shouldn’t have been surprised by Isaiah’s assumption. Over the years, many people had immediately jumped to the conclusion that she and Maxwell were a couple because of how close they were. She wouldn’t have expected Isaiah to do that, however, because he could certainly understand that men and women could be friends without the so-called “benefits” so many enjoyed, couldn’t he? Weren’t they on their way to just such a relationship? She couldn’t deny that Isaiah was attractive, but other than the almost-kiss she had tried to forget, he’d never expressed an interest in her. She wasn’t blind; she could see that he found her appealing, but he hadn’t acted on it. Not that she wanted him to. Her life really didn’t need any added layers right now.

As for Maxwell, she wasn’t his type. Maxwell liked voluptuous women who enjoyed being in the limelight as much as he did. He looked great and he knew it, and he was used to turning heads when he walked into a room. The woman who walked beside him needed to command the same level of attention and interest, and Zoë-Grace was definitely not that woman. An unrepentant introvert, she liked to blend into the background and stay there. Interacting with large groups of people—especially strangers—ranked very low on the list of activities she enjoyed. The mere act of getting dressed for social events required her to pull on every last energy reserve she had. Then once she got there, she preferred to identify someone she already knew who was as uncomfortable as she was and stick with that person for the duration. She usually left such a gathering as early as she could, spending the next day or two recovering.

Maxwell, on the other hand, enjoyed socializing. He’d never met a stranger in his life; people were attracted to his exceptional looks and dry sense of humor. It really was only their mutual love of mathematics that had drawn them together in the first place. Although they were both from Lucea, they had gone to different schools and hadn’t known each other until they had ended up in the same Calculus I class in their first semester at university. While everyone else focused on trying to pass the class, the two of them kept up a friendly rivalry to see which of them would get the better grade. Eventually, they had started studying together late at night in the courtyard just outside the library. They developed mutual crushes and had gone on one disastrous date, after which they had declared that they would keep their relationship strictly platonic.

And more than anything else, Zoë-Grace and Maxwell couldn’t be a couple because they didn’t share the same faith. Zoë-Grace had already tried being involved with a man who wasn’t a Christian, and it hadn’t worked out well with Montel.

Maxwell, like the majority of Jamaicans, accepted that there was a God. When filling in forms, he ticked “Christianity” as his religion. He said grace before his meals and owned a Bible. He went to church for New Year’s Sunday, Easter Sunday, and Christmas Sunday. But he wasn’t a believer, which meant that he and Zoë-Grace had different priorities. He was a good man, but he wasn’t a godly one, and that was what Zoë-Grace needed in her life the next time she got involved. She wouldn’t be with a man to pass the time; she wanted her next relationship to lead to marriage, and if it couldn’t, then it didn’t make sense becoming involved. She’d been there and done that with Montel and she had the emotional scars to prove it.

Isaiah and Zoë-Grace remained relatively quiet as they ate their lunch, keeping their discussion focused on the meal they were both enjoying. Zoë-Grace noticed that Isaiah never allowed more than a few minutes to pass without looking around.

“Expecting someone?” she asked after he had scanned the area for what seemed like the one hundredth time.

He swallowed a forkful of rice and peas before explaining. “Leftover behavior from being in combat. I like to know what’s going on around me at all times. No surprises. Normally, I’d be sitting where you are.” When she wrinkled her brow, he said, “With my back to the tree. But you got here first and took the best spot.”

She twisted in her seat and used her fork to point towards the small group of people who were approaching the shack. “So I guess you saw them, huh?”

“A minute or two ago, yes. I figure a woman with three small children wouldn’t pose too much of a threat here in rural Jamaica.”

She nodded thoughtfully, her eyes on the woman she recognized as Naydia’s sister-in-law. She was awkwardly pushing a supermarket cart with someone Zoë-Grace assumed to be the child born with no legs sitting inside. She had another child on her hip, while a toddler held on to her mid-calf denim skirt. Zoë-Grace was overcome with compassion for them. The woman waved in their direction, but no smile graced her lips. There was something about the cloak of grief that seemed to have settled on her that Zoë-Grace could recognize.

She and Isaiah watched as Naydia came out of the shack with a wicker basket. She greeted the children and nestled the basket into the cart in front of the little boy. He held the two flaps of the receptacle open, and Naydia loaded it with plastic containers from the counter. She added a few juice boxes before allowing her nephew to close the flaps. They were too far away for Zoë-Grace to hear what they were saying, but she could see the children were excited to be with their aunt by the grins that lit up their faces.

Naydia reached into the pocket on the front of her apron and handed some cash to her sister-in-law, who smiled and placed it into the pocket of her skirt.

Around sips of lemonade, Zoë-Grace shared what she knew of the family’s story.

Isaiah was thoughtful. “That’s one of the things I haven’t gotten used to here—the lack of support for the less fortunate.”

Zoë-Grace felt the need to jump to the defense of her country. “They do get government support.”

“Be that as it may, whatever they’re getting isn’t enough. I mean... no offense, but look at this place. This is nothing more than a roadside shack, and I can’t imagine Naydia makes a great living, yet she’s supporting family members who’ve fallen on hard times. Pity her brother didn’t have insurance or something that would have given them a bit more help.”

The mere mention of the word ‘insurance’ reminded Zoë-Grace of exactly why she was sitting under a tree instead of on the patio at home. She was glad she had almost finished eating; the loss of appetite was immediate. She dropped the fork, which clattered loudly as it hit her plate.

Isaiah looked down at the coconut curry sauce splattered all over the front of Zoë-Grace’s white T-shirt with a black slogan that simply said “Smile, nod, & leave it to God.” She paid scant attention to the sauce, which would no doubt stain. Her face had taken on a rather irritated expression, her jaw clenched. He replayed the last few lines of conversation and couldn’t think of anything offensive he might have said.

Her eyes narrowed to slits, but she didn’t respond. He followed her gaze but saw nothing on the horizon that should have elicited such a reaction.

He reached out and touched her lower arm, and she jumped as if she had forgotten that someone was sitting right next to her. “What’s going on with you?” He gestured towards the front of her T-shirt with one of his disposable napkins and she finally saw the mess.

She took the napkin from him and as she tried to clean it off, she said, “I have to go. As soon as Naydia can bring the check.”

He looked at his watch. He hadn’t even been there an hour. His cell phone hadn’t rung once, and he had hoped to spend some more time with her. Especially now. “Have I said something to offend you?”

“No. You haven’t. I’ve just remembered something I was happy to forget for a while.”

The two of them turned as a small bus joined both their vehicles in the parking area. The driver slid open the door and six or seven people descended, making a beeline for the shack. Isaiah didn’t intend to let Zoë-Grace get away without finishing the conversation they had started earlier. He wasn’t quite ready to process the fact that she and Maxwell weren’t a couple, but he did want to find out what was bothering her.

“Zoë-Grace, I only want to help.” He shifted a bit closer to her on the bench. He thought about wrapping an arm around her shoulder but decided against it. She didn’t look like she’d be receptive to the comforting move.

She sighed deeply and began shredding her paper napkin to bits. “It’s my mother. I don’t know what’s wrong with her lately. I mean—we were never close, but since my father died, she’s turned into this—I don’t know. She’s like a monster. She’s always angry at me although I don’t know what I’ve done. She’s bitter with Daddy because of the circumstances under which he died, and she’s been taking that bitterness out on me, possibly because I was a daddy’s girl. She’s known she needs surgery for months, but she only mentioned it to me a week or two ago. That’s the main reason I agreed to split the jackpot with you. And now that I’ve collected the money and put my name and face out there, I’ve found out that she’s been hiding things from me ever since Daddy died.”

“Things like...?” Isaiah gave her a slight shoulder bump as he prompted her.

“Let’s just say if it wasn’t for the fact that you were out of the country and needed me to do it, I really didn’t need to collect the check yesterday. We could have paid for the surgery without it, but she kept that little tidbit of information from me. I’m too angry to go home.”

She leaned back and looked him in the eyes. He hoped she could tell that he was being serious.

She looked like she was considering it, but then her eyes clouded over, and she shook her head. “I couldn’t, but thanks for offering.”

“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I don’t want to be out and about. I don’t want to have to interact with other people. I just want to go somewhere I can hide out for a few days.”

Isaiah knew just the spot. “If I make arrangements for you to stay somewhere, will you go?”

“If you can make that happen, I’d be grateful.” A tentative smile returned to her face.

He got to his feet. “Excuse me for a minute. I’ve got a phone call to make.”