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Zoë-Grace opened her eyes and looked around the unfamiliar room. It took a moment for her to remember where she was. As recognition dawned, she smiled and snuggled a little deeper under the light comforter. After a few minutes, she checked the time. It was a quarter to seven. She had slept well, considering she was in a strange place. She had retired to bed around 9:30 the night before, her stomach and her heart full and her mind more at ease than it had been for months.
She’d been surprised when Isaiah told her she was being invited to spend a couple of weeks at the Fairweathers’ house. At first, she tried to decline, but he convinced her they’d be happy to have her. She eventually acquiesced, eager to spend a little more time with Aunt Ruby. The older woman reminded Zoë-Grace of her grandmother, with whom she’d been very close before she died when Zoë-Grace was ten.
She had followed Isaiah to the Fairweathers’ house, which was not very far from Naydia’s shack. There, she received a warm welcome from her hosts and Aunt Ruby. Shortly after their arrival in the late afternoon, Isaiah went back to work with a promise to pick her up the next morning so they could do their banking transaction in Montego Bay. She couldn’t wait to get that over with. Once Isaiah had his portion of the winnings, she would need to decide what she would do with hers. She would definitely help Maxwell to pay off a portion of his new student loan, but she refused to use any of it to do the things that Joanna should already have done for herself.
That evening, she tried her best not to think about the money or her mother. Instead, she relaxed as she listened to Mr. and Mrs. Fairweather and Aunt Ruby trade stories about their childhoods in Jamaica and Florida, respectively, as well as their work and their travels. Aunt Ruby practically glowed as she spoke about her husband Howard, whom she had married relatively late in life, considering the era in which she had been born. Instead of being gutted that he had died after their brief marriage, Aunt Ruby overflowed with gratitude about the time that they had spent together.
After saying good night, Zoë-Grace went to the room she was using and spent some time pondering the twenty-nine years she’d had with her father. Since his death, she’d been so focused on the fact that he was gone that she had barely taken the time to appreciate what a good father he had been to her. She also acknowledged her resentment towards him for dying where he had and leaving her to deal with the social, financial, and emotional fallout as a result.
It occurred to her now that some of that resentment had been misplaced. Daddy hadn’t left them in a financial quagmire after his death. He had provided for her and her mother in ways she hadn’t even been aware of. She shuddered when she thought of how much money she had spent unnecessarily in the last year. The investments she had cashed in. The SUV she had sold. The position she had resigned. The great apartment she had given up. She once again began to feel the anger rising within her and without even thinking about it, she threw the covers off and got out of bed. She wondered if Aunt Ruby was already up. She could use some of her calming wisdom.
She slipped across the hallway and into the bathroom they were sharing. After a quick shower, she donned a pair of black jeans and a burnt orange button-up blouse with cap sleeves and a scalloped neckline. She wasn’t feeling particularly bright this morning, but she could pretend. She slipped her feet into a pair of black sandals. Isaiah wasn’t due until 8:30, but she didn’t want him to have to wait on her when he got there.
She followed the aroma of coffee to the kitchen, where she found Mr. Fairweather standing at the stove.
“Good morning,” she greeted him.
He turned, smiled at her, and said, “Hey, sweetie.” For a moment she missed her father intensely, but she was determined not to focus on that. Mr. Fairweather continued, “Help yourself to coffee. There’s hot water in the kettle, if you prefer tea.”
“Thank you. Do you have mint?”
He gestured to the door, which was standing open. “For that you’ll have to go out to the back patio. Hyacinth is out there yammering with Aunt Ruby. I don’t know what they find to talk about every morning. Just ask her to grab a piece of mint for you from the garden. No need to buy tea bags when we grow the stuff.”
Zoë-Grace thanked him and headed outside. She barely noticed Aunt Ruby and Mrs. Fairweather in matching Adirondack chairs as she took in the scores of flowers in various pots and other receptacles in the backyard. She couldn’t stifle the “Wow!” that jumped out of her mouth as she took in the many colors.
“Good morning!” both women chorused.
“Good morning.”
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Aunt Ruby asked.
“Indeed. This is amazing. I’m not really a lover of flowers—” Zoë-Grace turned to face Mrs. Fairweather when she heard the older woman’s sharp intake of breath, “—but this is astounding. So many colors! Are all of these orchids?”
Mrs. Fairweather got to her feet and came to stand beside Zoë-Grace at the edge of the patio. “Not all of them.” She indicated the different flowers as she named them. “I’ve got a few roses, jade vines, mandevilla, allamanda, frangipani, desert roses, and the ones trailing on that arbor over there are cups of gold.”
Zoë-Grace looked at each flower in turn. “What about those?” She pointed at a shrub in the distance. “I remember those from primary school. We used to join the flowers to make necklaces and bracelets.”
“Those are ixora. I’ve got them in all colors but red are the most popular. And of course, there’s the hibiscus, but I’m sure you know those.”
Zoë-Grace nodded. “And what about that huge tree in the center of the backyard? They have one of those just outside my parents’ church.”
“The poinciana is my favorite. The tree in the front yard is the poui. When I was at teachers’ college, we used to say that if the poui blossoms started falling before you started studying for exams, your goose was cooked!”
Zoë-Grace joined her as she laughed. “Yes! We heard that at UWI, too. There are poui trees all over the campus. Did you always love flowers?”
“All my life. When I was a little girl, my greatest ambition in life was to grow up and have a big yard so I could have a poinciana tree. I always adored them, especially the ones with the orange flowers like this one here. The love of orchids and other flowers came later. My children are named Jasmine, Reed, Orchid, and Rose, so that should give you some indication of my obsession.”
Zoë-Grace turned to Aunt Ruby, who was sipping from a glass of water. “How about you, Aunt Ruby? Do you have a lot of flowers?”
“No, my dear. I like to look at them, but I don’t have a delicate hand. I do maintain a small herb garden at home in Alistair Bay, but any flowers in my yard are cared for by the landscapers. I know my limits. I certainly feel blessed to be in this place surrounded by all these tropical plants, though. How could someone look at all these magnificent blooms, yet doubt the existence of God? His creativity is on show in a place like this.”
“Indeed.” Zoë-Grace jumped as Mr. Fairweather’s booming voice sounded from the doorway. “My dear, I get the sense you forgot why you came out here in the first place.”
He was looking at Zoë-Grace, but she had no idea what he was talking about. He moved towards the side of the patio and bent over, coming up with a sprig of peppermint. She grinned. “You’re right. I completely forgot. I’ll take that.”
“Oh, no. I’ll put this to steep and bring it out when it’s ready. We’re eating out here and breakfast is almost ready. I hope you like braised livers and boiled green bananas. I also have some calaloo and fried plantains on the side.”
Zoë-Grace didn’t like liver at all, but she held her tongue. She would have the calaloo and she loved fried plantains. Mr. Fairweather slipped inside, and Zoë-Grace turned back towards the garden.
“Can you imagine how beautiful the garden of Eden must have been?” Mrs. Fairweather asked. “I mean, this is such a small representation of the flowers God has given us to enjoy. I love church, but this... this is my tabernacle right here. This is the place I come to in the morning to commune with God.”
Zoë-Grace started. “Oh! Am I intruding?” She looked from Mrs. Fairweather to Aunt Ruby.
“Oh, no. I was out here shortly after the sunrise and if I know Aunt Ruby, she will be here most of the day. She makes good use of that chaise lounge over there. I keep reminding her to keep her mosquito repellent nearby. I would hate for her to catch dengue fever while she’s here.”
“How big is the yard?” Zoë-Grace wondered out loud.
“We’re on half an acre here. I like the fact that the house is closer to the front and most of the available land is behind it. It’s like a sanctuary back here. Plus, we’re far from the main road so those highway noises don’t reach us.”
“Have you lived here long?”
“It depends on what you call long. We bought this house when the development was first built around thirty years ago. The original house was three bedrooms, and over time we added the master suite and extended the kitchen. This patio was the latest addition. I think we’re happy with what we have now. There’s enough room for when the kids and grandkids come to visit, but not too much space that we can’t be close to each other when it’s just the two of us.” A contented smile crossed Mrs. Fairweather’s face as she made her way back to her chair. “It’s home.”
Zoë-Grace remained silent for a while. She hadn’t felt at home for the last year. Her parents’ house had been a much warmer place when her father had been alive, but since his death, it had just been somewhere to stay until she got herself and her mother sorted out. With the latest developments, she knew she would probably never live in that house again, and the thought was bittersweet. She doubted she could ever forgive her mother for what she had done. And just when I was ready to forgive and move forward, too, she said to herself. Determined to derail her unpleasant train of thought, she shook her head slightly and purposely brought her attention back to her present situation.
She had been so captivated by the flora that she hadn’t really noticed the patio itself, which had enough seating for eight or nine people. There were lush green ferns hanging from hooks all around the perimeter, and there was even a bird feeder and a set of bamboo wind chimes. As the light breeze blew, the bamboo shafts knocked together and added a light hollow sound that was almost musical. The overall effect was just like the rest of the home—warm and welcoming. She could imagine herself reading out here for hours.
“Honey!” Mr. Fairweather’s voice could be heard from the kitchen. “Breakfast in five minutes.”
“Is there anything I can help with?” Zoë-Grace wanted to know.
“Yes, dear. Could you set the table for three, please? The cutlery and flatware are on the counter inside.”
“For three?” Zoë-Grace asked.
Aunt Ruby spoke from her position across the patio. “None for me this morning, dear.”
Zoë-Grace was curious but with Mr. Fairweather’s assistance, she retrieved the things she would need and set the table. The aroma coming from the kitchen was marvelous. She and Mrs. Fairweather helped the chef to bring out the dishes, and everyone laughed as Zoë-Grace’s stomach growled audibly.
As Zoë-Grace looked over at Aunt Ruby, the elderly woman smiled sweetly at Mr. Fairweather and said, “Would you mind, dear?”
“Not at all.” He moved towards her and offered the use of his arm as an anchor so she could stand. She smoothed her skirt, retrieved her glass, and said to Zoë-Grace. “I’m heading into my room for a while. If Isaiah comes back before I surface, tell him I’ll see him later and he better bring me something nice. And if I don’t see you before you leave for Montego Bay, have a good day, my dear. God bless you and keep you.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”
“Maybe next time.” She blew Zoë-Grace a kiss and headed inside.
As the remaining three sat at the table, Zoë-Grace was startled to hear Isaiah’s voice coming from around the side of the house. “Anybody home?”
__________
Isaiah made himself comfortable on the Fairweathers’ patio as Mrs. Fairweather set another place at the circular table for him. He was sitting between Zoë-Grace and Mrs. Fairweather. The tantalizing aroma had his mouth watering. He had skipped breakfast at the hotel that morning, instead downing two large mugs of coffee before heading out to pick up Zoë-Grace. As Mrs. Fairweather settled in her chair, Isaiah’s stomach let out a growl, causing everyone to laugh. He wasn’t sure why Mr. and Mrs. Fairweather were looking at both him and Zoë-Grace as they laughed.
Mrs. Fairweather held out her hands towards Isaiah and her husband, and he remembered she liked to join hands and say grace before eating. He gripped her hand in his right and Zoë-Grace’s in his left. Aware of his physical strength, he made an effort not to hold their hands too tightly. While Mr. Fairweather prayed, Isaiah marveled at how different each woman’s fingers felt. Holding on to Mrs. Fairweather’s hand was about as exciting as holding Aunt Ruby’s—he felt nothing but physical contact. His other hand, however, felt comfortable and awkward at the same time. He didn’t feel electric shocks, exactly, but his fingers felt almost tingly. He had to force himself not to laugh out loud. He was like a schoolboy holding the hand of his crush for the first time.
Mr. Fairweather finished saying a lengthy grace and his wife explained, “Isaiah, today we’re having a typical Jamaican breakfast—braised liver, steamed calaloo, fried plantains, and boiled green bananas. I can make you a fresh cup of coffee if you’d like.”
As Zoë-Grace poured from a teapot in the middle of the table, he asked. “Is that mint?”
At her nod, he said, “I already had more than enough coffee for the morning, so mint sounds great. Would you mind?” Zoë-Grace poured him a mug and he added brown sugar. It was amazing knowing that in all probability, the mint, the calaloo, and perhaps even the green bananas had all been sourced from the backyard garden that very morning.
After living in Jamaica for several months, he continued to be amazed by the range of flavors he experienced when he had meals outside of the hotel. The resort was known for its excellent fare, but he tended to go for the familiar when he was eating there: roast beef or chicken, grilled seafood and vegetables, baked or mashed potatoes, and so on. He’d certainly had more than his fair share of spicy jerk chicken, which was a particular favorite of his. In Jamaica, he found himself eating things he would never have eaten in the States. Among them was the national dish of ackee and saltfish, as well as curried tripe and beans (which he’d learned featured goat intestines after he’d eaten two servings the first time he’d sat at the Fairweathers’ table), and chicken foot soup, which was surprisingly flavorful despite the contents.
He waited till everyone had served themselves before choosing a piece of liver for his first taste. He couldn’t stifle the moan that emitted from the very soul of his being when the flavors burst on his tongue. He nodded his head at Mrs. Fairweather, who laughed and pointed at her husband. “He cooked today.”
Mr. Fairweather grinned. “I don’t have to ask if you approve.” Isaiah was too busy chewing to do more than nod again.
Zoë-Grace asked, “Did Aunt Ruby eat earlier?”
“No. She’s fasting today. No solid food.” Mr. Fairweather explained.
“Fasting?” Isaiah piped in.
Mr. Fairweather nodded.
“No food? For how long?” he wanted to know.
“Just today. She fasts until sundown every Wednesday,” Mr. Fairweather said.
“Why? Why would anyone want to skip meals when they’re being fed like this?” Isaiah was genuinely confused.
Mr. Fairweather chuckled. “Fasting is more than just skipping meals, son.”
Zoë-Grace spoke up again. “I’ve always wondered about fasting, actually. In my mother’s church, they have a weekly fasting service but since it’s during the school day, I’ve never gone, so I have no idea what they do. I don’t think I completely grasp the concept.”
“Well, honey,” Mrs. Fairweather began, “different denominations approach fasting in different ways, but one of the things I’m learning as I grow older is that God is more concerned about my personal relationship with him than about what my church says and does.”
“Which is a good thing, let me tell you,” Mr. Fairweather picked up the thread of conversation, “because no church is perfect. Makes sense, since they’re all filled with imperfect people.”
Mrs. Fairweather grinned. “An understatement, if I ever heard one.”
“So why do church people fast anyway?” Isaiah asked.
He noticed Mrs. Fairweather’s slight wince as he spoke. “’Church people?’ I can’t tell you why ‘church people’ do anything. I can tell you, however, why Christians do some of the things we do.”
“So aren’t Christians church people?”
“Hard to say,” Mr. Fairweather responded, “not all Christians go to church and not all people who go to church are Christians. Like I heard one of those preachers on TV say, going to church doesn’t make someone a Christian any more than sitting in a garage makes them a car.”
They all laughed until Mrs. Fairweather started speaking again. “I know you’ve spent time with Aunt Ruby, Isaiah, and I know your sister and Daniel, so these aren’t foreign concepts to you. What makes me a Christian is not the church I go to, whether or not I go to church, the day of the week on which I worship, where I live, what I wear or don’t wear. My status as a Christian is fully dependent on my personal, one-on-one relationship with Christ. That relationship allows me to have the Holy Spirit within me. The Holy Spirit speaks directly to my spirit and sometimes while I’m reading the Bible.”
Isaiah had heard this all before—several times, most recently from Aunt Ruby—but he listened respectfully. He didn’t necessarily want to say anything anyway; he’d rather keep chewing.
Mrs. Fairweather continued, “When Christians fast from food, we are basically making a conscious decision to sacrifice food in order to deepen our relationship with God.”
“How does that work?” Zoë-Grace asked.
“When we decide to skip food in order to focus on God, it’s an outward expression of an internal determination to seek Him. Usually, Christians couple fasting with prayer, choosing to spend habitual mealtimes in prayer. Instead of eating lunch, for example, they’ll pray. Some donate their missed meals to the poor. Aunt Ruby’s probably praying right now. She’s not starving herself; she’s denying her flesh so that she can feed her spirit by focusing on God instead of herself.”
Isaiah reached for the platter and helped himself to even more fried plantains. “Well, better her than me. There’s something special about these plantains, Mr. Fairweather.” He hadn’t meant to change the subject, but he really was curious about the unique flavor he had detected.
“You have a delicate palate, Isaiah.” Mr. Fairweather grinned. “I sprinkled on a little cinnamon before frying in shallow oil. Adds a little... as you young people say... somethin’ somethin’ to the meal. Elevates it a bit, even if I do say so myself.”
“You’re right. How’s your breakfast, Zoë-Grace? Not having any of the liver?”
“I’m not a fan, but this calaloo is fantastic. I suspect it has... as we young people say—” She winked at Mr. Fairweather, “—a little somethin’ somethin’, as well.”
Their host smiled. “Nutmeg. You don’t really taste it, but it kicks the greens up a notch.”
“That it does.”
Isaiah couldn’t help but notice that Zoë-Grace was a bit pensive this morning. He hoped he would be able to draw her out of herself on the drive. The woman had way too much on her mind for someone whose financial burden just got a lot less.
__________
The drive to Montego Bay was pleasant. As they drove past Naydia’s cook shop, they both waved at her. She was standing near the side of the road talking with a group of boys who seemed to be coming from the nearby beach. The boys were dressed in nothing but shorts and two of them carried spear guns and strings of fish. As they continued on their way, Zoë-Grace couldn’t help but wonder why they weren’t in school. At this hour of the morning, those boys really should have been in a classroom somewhere. Primary and secondary schools traditionally started classes on the first Monday in January.
Zoë-Grace opened her mouth to say as much to Isaiah but closed it again without voicing her thoughts. She hated bringing any negative attention to her homeland in the presence of tourists—even this one who had lived in Jamaica for a while. There seemed to be so much that was wrong with her country, and so little that could be done by someone like her to make it right. Besides, tourists didn’t want to visit an island where there was corruption in high places and poverty in low ones; they wanted endless sun, sea, and sand. In coming to what they deemed an island paradise, they were trying to escape their problems and relax body, mind, and soul. They wanted reggae music, rum punch, and jerk chicken, not complaints about what... and who... wasn’t working.
She sighed loudly and tried to turn her attention to other things.
It didn’t work. Her mind seemed to be bouncing from one thought to another. She really needed something that could distract her from what was going on inside her head. “Do you mind if I turn the radio on?” she asked. Isaiah motioned toward the radio, giving her free rein. She searched for soothing music. At this hour, the radio talk shows were already on. She had no doubt that her mother would be listening to her favorite host right now. How someone could spend their morning listening to a litany of complaints from strangers across the island was beyond Zoë-Grace. Everyone wanted to discuss the high crime statistics, the terrible condition of the roads, and the weakness of the Jamaican economy. Was there nothing positive happening in the country?
She found the news and would have gone right past it, but Isaiah placed his hand on hers, stopping her from pressing the button. A tingle shot up her arm, much like the one that she’d noticed earlier when he had held her hand at the table. She realized he was talking and forced herself to listen.
“Hold on,” he was saying, his hand still on hers. “Let’s just listen to the headlines and then you can find something else, OK?”
He moved his hand to the steering wheel, and she relaxed a little, allowing her own hand to fall into her lap as she turned to stare out of the window.
Her mind was racing. You better stop, Zo-Zo. Tingles? Seriously? That’s not a good sign. You can’t... I mean it... you cannot catch feelings for this man. He’s not saved, remember? And even if he was, he’s going to be in Negril and you’ll eventually be back in Kingston, remember? And on top of that, he’s only here for a few more months, remember? Don’t. Just don’t. She sent up a silent prayer that the Lord wouldn’t allow her to do something stupid, like fall for someone she shouldn’t and end up hurt.
Hearing a sharp intake of breath from Isaiah, she turned to look at him. He was focused on his driving but seemed to be listening intently to the news report. Zoë-Grace tuned in just in time to hear the last few lines.
“Travelers all over the world are starting to swarm international airports amid rumors that borders in several territories will be closed soon,” the news presenter was saying. “Stay tuned to this news station for more details about this developing international story.”
Isaiah turned off the radio and Zoë-Grace could see that his jaw was clenched. “What was that about? I wasn’t really listening until the end.”
He sighed. “There’s a virus spreading overseas. It’s never been seen before and it’s impacting tens of thousands of people in the East. They’re considering lockdowns in some countries to stop it from spreading.”
“Lockdowns? Seriously? In the twenty-first century?”
Isaiah shrugged. “A lockdown might be the best way to contain a new virus till it can run its course.”
Zoë-Grace turned her gaze back out the window. “It’s times like these I’m glad that Jamaica is just a dot on the map.”
Isaiah glanced at her. “I wouldn’t be so sure. With the ease of travel these days, all it would take is one infected person to get on a plane headed in this direction. Next thing we know, we’re considering lockdowns on this side of the world, too.”
“Hmm.” Zoë-Grace was thoughtful. “I’ll have to add that to my prayer list.”
“Prayer list? Do you really think that the prayers of one woman in Jamaica will impact the spread of a virus on the other side of the globe?”
“Why not? My Bible tells me that the prayers of the righteous produce great results. Don’t you believe in God?”
Isaiah took a moment before responding. “If you’re asking if I believe God exists, then yes. I don’t think life as we know it could have just happened. I believe in intelligent design, which means I have to believe in an Intelligent Designer, if you will. However, I’m not sure I believe that God really has His ear to the ground. Do I think He will really stop what He’s doing—whatever that may be—to pay attention to each prayer voiced by every individual who prays? Not so much.”
Zoë-Grace’s skin prickled. “Didn’t you grow up in church?”
“Yes, we went to church, and I believed then that God was good and that He had His eye on everyone all the time, but then I was deployed, and let me tell you... I’ve seen some things that would make even the most dedicated believer doubt. Did the things I saw and experienced make me an atheist? No. Did they make me doubt that God is in control of every detail of every individual’s life? Yes, they sure did.”
“How long have you known Aunt Ruby?”
Isaiah chuckled. “A few years.”
“And she hasn’t gotten you saved?”
“I don’t think she’s tried.”
“Oh, she’s tried. I just met her, but I can tell that she’s concerned about the soul of every individual she meets.”
“She’s never preached to me, if that’s what you mean.”
“I’m not surprised. She doesn’t strike me as the type of Christian who beats you over the head with her Bible. Instead, she does subtle things that get her message across. Maybe you aren’t even aware of it, but she’s no doubt sowing seeds into your spirit and praying for you a heck of a lot.”
Isaiah grinned. “Probably!” He turned into the huge shopping center where the Montego Bay branch of Zoë-Grace’s investment bank was located.
“So, what about you? Does God talk to you?”
Zoë-Grace sighed. “He used to.”
“Used to? He doesn’t anymore?”
As he approached an intersection, she pointed in the direction he needed to turn. “Let’s just say we weren’t on speaking terms for a few years.”
“Oh? How come?”
She took a deep breath. “To be honest, I was the one who stopped listening. I didn’t want to hear what He had to say, so I deliberately tuned him out. I filled my every waking thought with other things and then I guess, over time, He got the hint and stopped saying anything for a while.”
“Why did you tune Him out?”
Zoë-Grace squirmed in her seat a little as she showed him the building where the bank was. “Basically, my lifestyle wasn’t what it should have been for someone who grew up in the church and knew better. I didn’t want to be reminded that I was operating outside of God’s will, so I stopped doing the things that caused me to remember.”
“Such as?” Zoë-Grace could tell Isaiah’s curiosity was piqued.
“Like reading my Bible and going to church. I stopped watching Christian TV and listening to Christian radio stations. I liked my life the way it was going, and I didn’t want to feel like I was doing any-thing wrong.”
Isaiah grinned. “What were you doing that was so wrong?”
Zoë-Grace suspected Isaiah knew exactly what she wasn’t saying, but she wasn’t going to confirm those suspicions. “That would be too much information, sir. Suffice it to say, I was doing things a good Christian girl wasn’t supposed to be doing, while not doing the things I was expected to do. Just over a year ago, I rededicated my life to Him and started hearing His voice again. But when my dad died, it’s like He had stopped speaking.”
“Any idea why?” he asked.
“Let’s just say I’ve got some things to work out with Him, and I’m kind of glad I’m staying with Aunt Ruby and the Fairweathers right now. No doubt, they’ll be able to help me get myself back on track.”
He pulled into a parking spot. “Got you. Are you ready to lose half of your newfound fortune?” he asked, grinning.
“More than ready!”
His laugh was contagious as he got out of the SUV. Zoë-Grace steeled herself for the stares she knew would follow as soon as she mentioned her name.
__________
Since Zoë-Grace’s friend had set up an appointment with the manager of the Montego Bay branch, they were ushered into the office almost as soon as they stepped inside. The manager didn’t seem overly impressed with the amount of money being moved from one account into another as he handled the setting up of Isaiah’s investment account and the transfer of funds. She wished she could say the same for the representative from the bank’s commercial division, who was called in to open a checking account for Isaiah. Laurelle was so obvious in her attempt to get Isaiah’s attention that Zoë-Grace couldn’t seem to stop rolling her eyes.
“Where to?” Isaiah asked as he held the bank’s door open for her less than an hour after they got there.
It wasn’t yet lunch time, but Zoë-Grace was hungry. “I could eat. There’s a lovely Chinese restaurant over on the next building.” She slipped on her sunglasses.
“Same. Want to walk over?” He glanced down at her sandals. “You don’t look like you could twist an ankle with every step you take.”
Zoë-Grace grinned. “You noticed those stilettos, huh?”
“A man would have to be blind not to. Our young friend from the bank reminded me of my niece Joy when she was learning to walk. She looked like an oversized toddler.” He adjusted his stride to match hers as they walked beside each other. “Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Miss Goodluck?”
“You most certainly do not, Captain Hendricks!” She laughed.
“I suppose she must have thought I’d make a great catch. All this—” he curled his bicep, “—and two and a half million dollars in the bank.”
Zoë-Grace felt her smile dissolve. “Why did you have to remind me?” She groaned.
“You’re still not happy about it, even though you just gave me my half?”
“I’m still not, but you know what? I don’t want to talk about it right now. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
An hour later, they had finished their meal, and were waiting on Zoë-Grace’s takeout order of Singapore noodles. “You don’t think the Fairweathers will be offended if I bring takeout into their house? I love these, but I can’t get them in Lucea.”
“Not at all,” Isaiah said. “In fact, I’m going to stop at the cafe on the way back to the car and get Aunt Ruby’s ‘something nice.’ She really likes their turkey panini and the Fairweathers like the lasagna.”
“The Fairweathers are such nice people. Remind me how you know them?”
“My sister Maya is married to Aunt Ruby’s nephew Daniel. They live beside Jasmine, the Fairweathers’ daughter. Daniel and Jasmine’s husband have been friends for a long time. The Fairweathers visit Jasmine and her family at least once a year, and everybody’s gotten pretty close. You see how Aunt Ruby is. Everybody adores her.”
“Indeed. I look forward to spending time with her. Where’s this town that she lives in?”
“Alistair Bay is a small town in North Florida, not too far from Jacksonville. Now that I’m rolling in dough, I think I’m going to buy a house in A-Bay. Maybe an investment property here, as well.”
The server brought over the takeout meal and Isaiah paid the bill and left a generous tip.
They headed to the café and ordered to-go meals for Aunt Ruby and the Fairweathers. Isaiah shoulder-bumped Zoë-Grace as they stepped away from the cash register. “I noticed an ice cream place next door. Want to grab a cone while we wait on our order?”
Zoë-Grace shrugged. They ducked into the ice cream shop to buy their sweet treats, careful not to say anything about the lottery until after they stepped out again—he with two scoops of soursop ice cream, she with a single scoop of Blue Mountain coffee on a sugar cone.
Outside, he led her to an outdoor table with a broad umbrella covering it. As they settled, she tasted her dessert. It was good: the perfect blend of sweet cream and strong Jamaican coffee flavor. She watched the way Isaiah bit into his ice cream, he was definitely not a very patient person.
“Good?” she asked.
“Um-hmm!” he confirmed. “The best! They don’t make ice cream quite like this stateside. Have you ever been to the States?”
Zoë-Grace sighed as she remembered when she’d had the financial freedom to visit Florida one weekend every few months. Her US visitor’s visa had expired a few months earlier and she hadn’t had the money to pay for the renewal, much less to buy a plane ticket. “Yes.”
“Oh? Which states?”
“I’ve been to New York a couple of times, but not since I left high school. I also visited Washington D.C. a few years ago. I’ve been to South Florida more times than I can count, but not recently.”
“Nice.”
“What about you? I’m guessing you’ve traveled a lot, being in the military and all.”
“I suppose. I’ve been to all fifty states, plus Canada and Mexico. I visited my sister once when she was living in Colombia, and I hopped over to Panama, as well. I’ve been to Costa Rica a couple of times. I really like it there. It’s got a little bit of everything, from rainforests to beaches. Of course, you know I was in Puerto Rico just a few days ago.
“I’ve seen Eastern Europe, Spain, Portugal, France, Italy. I’ve been to the Middle East, though that was for work. Never been to the South Pacific or Africa. Not yet, at least. As of this morning, it’s looking more likely that I’ll be able to visit Tanzania like I’ve been wanting to do since... forever.”
“So that’s what you’re going to do with the money?” She glanced around to see if there was anybody nearby who might overhear them. “Travel and buy property?”
He shrugged. “A little. I mean, in the grand scheme of things, two-point-five million dollars isn’t all that much.”
Zoë-Grace’s scoff was involuntary, but she concentrated on her ice cream, catching the melting dessert on her tongue before it dripped off the tip of her cone.
“Winning the lottery is going to give me the opportunity to do more of the things I want to do and less of the things I feel like I have to do... for a little while, at least. As I mentioned, I’ll probably buy a couple of houses—one in the Caribbean and one in Alistair Bay. I like the idea of living close to Maya and her family. I’ll invest some, for sure, but I also want to do some bucket list stuff I wouldn’t have been able to do if this opportunity hadn’t presented itself. Like do a safari in Tanzania, see the Pyramids in Egypt, the Slave Coast in West Africa.
“I figure when my contract at the hotel ends in a few months, I’ll take a little time off before I find another contract somewhere. It’s not like I can live the rest of my life off the jackpot.”
Zoë-Grace figured if she were frugal, she could probably do just that, with the way the Jamaican dollar was losing value against the greenback every day. But would she want to? “I wish I could disappear for a while.”
“Well, you can certainly afford to.”
Zoë-Grace hadn’t realized she’d spoken out loud until she heard his response. She gave a wry smile. “I suppose I can.” She didn’t admit that she had considered doing just that.
“Have you tasted this soursop ice cream before?”
She shook her head, and before she could tell him she didn’t like the flavor of the somewhat tart fruit, he pushed the cone towards her face. She wondered if he had deliberately let it hit her nose on the way to her mouth. She stuck her tongue out to lick her lips. She wouldn’t say the ice cream was good, but it wasn’t half bad. Before she could reach up to wipe it off her nose, he had used his own napkin to clean the sticky dessert away, then he used his index finger to poke the tip of her nose.
“Like it?” He smiled although his eyes were serious.
For a second, she wasn’t sure whether he was referring to the ice cream or his touch. “I could get used to it.” Zoë-Grace returned with an enigmatic reference of her own. Could he tell that she was talking about both?
__________
After stopping at a local phone store, where Isaiah insisted on buying a new prepaid phone for Zoë-Grace so that she could essentially disappear for a while without going completely off the grid, they headed back to the Fairweathers’ home. Zoë-Grace enjoyed the drive back immensely. She pointed out places of interest along the way, and they stopped to say hi to Naydia even though they were still full.
Back at the Fairweathers’ house, Isaiah delivered the takeout to the kitchen, while Zoë-Grace went straight through to the patio at the back, where Aunt Ruby was sitting at the table, a large Bible spread open before her.
“Hi, Aunt Ruby. Am I interrupting?”
“Hello, dear. Not at all. How was your morning?”
“Good. Isaiah brought you something, but I guess you’ll have to wait till your fast ends before you can see what it is.” She sat across from Aunt Ruby. “Have you been fasting every week for a long time?”
Aunt Ruby stuck a book marker into the thick, large-print Bible she was reading and leaned back in the chair. “Not really, only around thirty-five years or so.”
“Thirty-five years?” Zoë-Grace exclaimed. “That’s longer than I’ve been alive!”
“Exactly, so not a long time.” Aunt Ruby winked at her. Zoë-Grace grinned.
Isaiah came through the back door with a large glass of ice water for himself and a smaller one for Zoë-Grace.
After he greeted Aunt Ruby and kissed her cheek, she indicated the chair beside her. He gulped the water before giving Aunt Ruby a smile filled with apology. “I’m sorry, ladies. I would love to stay, but I need to get back to the hotel and make sure all is well. They didn’t call me, so that’s a good sign. I’m guessing they got used to my absence while I was away.”
Aunt Ruby nodded, a concerned expression on her face. “Before you rush off, tell me—how was Puerto Rico? The images I saw on the news were distressing.”
Isaiah sighed. He placed the glass on the table and gripped the back of the chair he was standing behind. “It was tougher for the other team members than for me. To my knowledge, Jamaica hasn’t had a devastating earthquake recently. The Jamaican staff, though they may be used to the aftermath of hurricanes and flooding, had never really seen destruction on this magnitude. As for me, after you’ve been on the ground during open conflict, you become... I wouldn’t say numb, necessarily, but you kind of get used to the horrifying images. If every single time hit you like the first, you would be no good to yourself, your colleagues, your country, or your cause.”
Aunt Ruby nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose you’re right. Thankfully, there weren’t many reports of casualties. There’s always something to be grateful for. Were you able to get a lot done?”
“Yes, but there’s still a lot more to do. The extra labor we offered was helpful, but it’s going to take sustained effort to bring everything back up to the standard it was at before. I wouldn’t be surprised if that particular property remains closed for another six months or more. The owners of the Nizani chain are in discussions now to absorb some of those staff members into other properties in Puerto Rico, and they just bought a small hotel in Costa Rica, so they’re sending some people there to help in the transition. The fact that they’re Spanish speakers is an added bonus.”
There was an extended silence on the patio as they all became absorbed in their own thoughts. Isaiah suddenly clapped his hands together before reaching for his glass and downing the rest of his water. As she sipped hers, Zoë-Grace wondered if he wouldn’t get brain freeze.
“I’ve got to get on the road. Aunt Ruby, it’s always a pleasure seeing you.” He kissed her on the cheek again. He then turned towards Zoë-Grace and did the same to her. His cold lips almost made her jump. He grinned. “Didn’t want you to get jealous, even though you already know that Ruby Marie is my girl.” He straightened and moved to the patio steps. “Seriously, though, Zoë-Grace, thank you for today. I forgot how nice it was to sit and chat with a friend—” he looked towards Aunt Ruby and added, “—closer to my own... um... height.”
They all laughed and said their goodbyes.
As he left, Zoë-Grace fought the urge to reach up to touch the cheek he had kissed. Aunt Ruby was watching her with a keen eye, and she didn’t want the elderly woman to get any ideas. The last—and she really did mean the very last—thing she needed to do right now was think about getting involved with anyone, even a man whose light kiss on the cheek had turned her insides to jelly.
She glanced towards the Bible and asked almost too quickly, “What were you reading before I interrupted you?”
Aunt Ruby watched her thoughtfully for another moment before reaching for the book and opening it to the spot where she had placed the bookmark earlier. “The book of Esther. Have you read it?”
Zoë-Grace was amazed by how many notes had been penned in the wide margin of Aunt Ruby’s Bible. From every angle, there were sticky notes peeking out from between the pages. She could see that this book was well-loved and well-used. “Yes. I’ve read the whole Bible.”
Aunt Ruby smiled. “Even the book of Numbers? I always struggle with Numbers!”
“Even Numbers,” Zoë-Grace confirmed. “Not sure how much of it I retained, though. My eyes were glazing over with that census.”
Aunt Ruby laughed. “Yet God thought every one of those individuals important enough to have their names and tribes recorded. Not only that, but He numbered the hairs on the head of every man, woman, and child whose family is represented and every man, woman, and child since then. It overwhelms me.”
Aunt Ruby’s almost-palpable sense of awe was contagious. The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a while.
“How do you decide what to read on a particular day? I generally read the Scriptures that are recommended in the Bible app that I use.”
Aunt Ruby chuckled. “My Bible app is here—” She tapped on her temple with her index finger “—and here.” She spread her palm across her chest.
“What do you mean?”
Aunt Ruby took a deep breath and leaned back in the chair again. “Well, sometimes I’m dealing with a particular issue or know someone who is, so I look in the concordance in the back of my Bible and look up all the references to that issue and I read them, praying for the Holy Spirit to give me the right words to say to the person, or for Him to download a message directly into their spirit. Sometimes, I pray about what I should read. Sometimes, especially when I’m fasting, I get what we old people call a ‘burden’ for someone, and the Spirit will lead me to a Bible verse that will help me know what to pray for that person.”
Zoë-Grace took a moment to take it in before asking another question. “What role does fasting play?”
“What do you know about fasting?”
Zoë-Grace repeated what she had told the Fairweathers and Isaiah that morning: it was something they did at her parents’ church, but she had never participated. “I don’t know what goes on at fasting services, since I never went.”
Aunt Ruby removed her large, round glasses and rubbed her eyes. “Different churches approach it in different ways. For me, fasting is personal. I’ve committed to spending focused, deliberate, extended one-on-one time with God every single week. We can spend one-on-one time with God under many circumstances but knowing that I’ll be fasting from solid food from sunrise to sunset reminds me of my personal need to set aside everything in my life and concentrate on God. Every time I fast, I’m reminded that God is the center of my life.
“As human beings, we tend to think that some things are non-negotiable. And I’m not talking about things like living in a big house, getting the next promotion, or having an ideal number of children. I don’t mean those things some people think they can’t live without. I’m talking about basic things. Food, clothing, shelter. But when you can put your fleshly desires, even something as fundamental as the desire to eat, under subjection, then it’s a very clear reminder that we do not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds out of the mouth of God.”
Zoë-Grace slowly nodded. She was beginning to understand. “So how does it work, exactly? What do you do when you’re on a fast?”
Aunt Ruby put on her glasses. “First things first, I spend some time in worship. Then I ask God to let me know what He wants me to focus on during that day’s fast. Fasting shouldn’t ever be done in a vacuum. We should always be fasting for a particular reason. It could be a person’s salvation, a desire to get closer to God, a period of dedicated praise and worship, wisdom regarding a particular situation, an opportunity, a problem facing my community or the world. Then I read some Scripture relating to what I’m focusing on before going into prayer. I pour out my heart before the Lord and when I finish speaking, I listen. Sometimes I get my prayer journal out and I write down whatever God is telling me. Sometimes I just commune with Him. I can’t explain what happens; I just feel Him refreshing me and strengthening me. It’s as if He’s inviting me into His lap and giving me a supernatural hug.
“By the time that first session, if you want to call it that, is done, it would be past breakfast time, so I would already have fasted my first meal of the day. For the rest of the morning, I’ll read a book unless I feel the Lord leading me to continue praying, worshipping, or writing in my journal. At around lunchtime, instead of eating a meal, I once again go into a focused time of prayer about the theme I’ve chosen for the fast. At this age, I’ll take a nap in the afternoon and then I might read my Bible some more, or read some other book, and then before I know it, the sun will have set and it will be time for me to end my fast. When I’m at home, I donate at least two meals per week—one breakfast and one lunch—to the local food bank or homeless shelter. Here, I’ve asked the Fairweathers not to prepare breakfast or lunch for me on a Wednesday. To break my fast, I’ll have a cup of tea or some soup, and then maybe some toast. A bit later in the evening, I’ll have a meal.”
“But don’t you get hungry, Aunt Ruby?”
“Of course, I do. But whenever I feel those hunger pangs, I use them as a reminder to pray about the issue. I drink lots of water throughout the day and I pray for the Lord to sustain me throughout the fast. My pastor, Robert Marsden, does a forty-day fast at the start of every year. He has only water. I respect that, but I’ve never been convicted to join him.”
“Wow! Forty days on water alone?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I don’t know what the theological explanation is, but it seems to me that Robert channels the Lord’s Word best when he’s completely empty. I think fasting kind of brings you to a place of brokenness before the Lord. It shows Him that your commitment to Him is beyond lip service and you’re serious about getting close to Him. Not to mention, Jesus Himself fasted and expected us to fast, as well.
“One of the things I’ve learned through fasting is that in denying yourself a meal when you’re hungry, you’re developing discipline that can help in other areas of your life. You learn that if you can go hungry in a house where there’s food available, then you can do other things that aren’t easy, like sit through a long, boring meeting, or stop at only one serving of pie, or get up and exercise. You can even do without sex, if that’s an issue for you. Learning to put your flesh under subjection is one of the best disciplines you could ever develop.”
Zoë-Grace nodded. What Aunt Ruby was saying made perfect sense. “So, how would someone like me get started?”
Aunt Ruby shrugged as she smiled. “By starting. I would recommend doing half-day fasts at first. Maybe once a week you can fast from the time you wake up until lunch time. And maybe you can transition to sunrise-to-sunset or twenty-four-hour fasts. Then you can do longer sessions if you feel convicted. I’ve done a few Daniel Fasts but my weekly daylight fasts, if you will, keep me rooted and grounded in the Lord.”
Zoë-Grace was quiet for several minutes as she considered whether she should start a weekly fast. During the silence, Aunt Ruby opened her Bible again and started reading. Eventually, she said, “Isn’t it amazing how, no matter how many times you read a Scripture, the Holy Spirit can help you to apply it to your life in different ways at different times?”
Zoë-Grace responded, “I suppose that’s true. But you said you were reading the book of Esther. Isn’t that a historical book that tells one story from beginning to end? How could the message change?”
“The message doesn’t change, my dear. You change. The way you apply it to your life changes. You’d be surprised what jumped out at me this time, that I never really thought about before.”
“What?” Zoë-Grace wanted to know.
Instead of answering her, the older woman asked, “If you had to tell somebody one thing you remember from the book of Esther... one thing that has stuck with you... what would it be?”
“That it was quite possible that she was named queen of Persia for, according to her cousin Mordecai, ‘such a time as this.’”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning she was put in the right place at the right time to save the Jews in exile in Persia.” Zoë-Grace was confident she was remembering the book correctly.
“I believe that’s exactly what happened.”
“So what is it that’s different as you’re reading it today?” Zoë-Grace asked.
“Well, after reading this book no less than forty times over the years, today is when I realized that the book of Esther is not about Esther.”
“It’s not?” Zoë-Grace was confused. “How could it be about anything or anyone except Esther? It tells us about her life from being orphaned to being named queen and saving the Jews. I mean, the book is even called ‘Esther.’”
Without responding to Zoë-Grace’s question, Aunt Ruby asked, “How long are you going to be here?”
“Another few days, I suppose, or until the Fairweathers kick me out.” She grinned.
“I’ve been here for weeks and weeks and they haven’t booted me yet.” Aunt Ruby reciprocated the grin.
“Why do you ask?”
“Would you do something for me?”
“Of course. Name it.”
“Do you have your Bible? Or at least one of those Bible appy thingies on your phone?”
Zoë-Grace didn’t correct her. “I have my Bible with me.”
“Excellent. Over the next day or two, I want you to read the book of Esther again, from the first chapter to the last. And then we can continue this discussion, OK?”
Zoë-Grace said, “OK.”
Aunt Ruby closed the Bible and got to her feet. “Once I retired from my work as a public health inspector, I started doing what I had wanted to do for years but never had the chance—taking an afternoon nap every weekday. I still do. And now my body has become so used to the nap that no matter the company I’m in, no matter how intriguing the conversation, once it hits mid-afternoon, I’m no use to anyone until I’ve had that nap. It’s a good thing I’ve stopped driving, or I’d no doubt fall asleep at the wheel.” She slipped the chair under the table and continued, “So with that said, I’m going to disappear for a little while. See you later?”
“See you later, Aunt Ruby. Enjoy your nap. I think I’m going to go start reading the book of Esther again.”
Aunt Ruby’s smile spread across her entire face. “Excellent. I look forward to continuing our discussion in another day or two.”
“For sure.”
The elderly woman left Zoë-Grace on the patio enjoying the silence and wishing she were as wise as her new friend.
__________
Zoë-Grace fell asleep reading her Bible that night. The last thing she remembered reading was Mordecai’s message to Esther in which he had said the enduring words, “Who knows if perhaps you were made queen for just such a time as this?” The next morning, she took her Bible with her to the kitchen. Again, Mr. Fairweather was making breakfast and the older ladies were on the patio, so she went to join them.
“Good morning!” she greeted them. That morning, Aunt Ruby had a mug of what looked like black coffee in front of her, as well as her large Bible. Mrs. Fairweather also had a large mug, although the aroma that greeted Zoë-Grace was that of lemongrass, popularly known in Jamaica as ‘fever grass.’ She accepted Mrs. Fairweather’s offer of a cup of the home-grown herb and added brown sugar before sitting with them.
Aunt Ruby looked at the Bible and asked, “Still working on your assignment?”
Zoë-Grace swallowed her first flavorful sip and replied, “Yes. I fell asleep reading last night. I didn’t realize I was so tired. This whole situation has been emotionally draining, to say the least. I think I was more tense than I thought because I still had Isaiah’s half of the money. Now that he has it, there’s one less thing for me to worry about. It would have been horrible if something happened to me that prevented him from getting his share. It’s a pity he wouldn’t agree to take all of it.”
Mrs. Fairweather wrinkled her brow. “Let me know if I’m prying, but why did you buy a lottery ticket if you didn’t want to win?”
Zoë-Grace was surprised that neither Aunt Ruby nor Isaiah had shared the details of the situation with the Fairweathers.
Before she could speak, Aunt Ruby said, “If you wait until the chef comes out, you won’t have to tell your story twice.”
Zoë-Grace agreed and drank some more tea. The table fell silent as Mrs. Fairweather looked out towards the garden and Aunt Ruby reached for her Bible, so Zoë-Grace opened hers, as well. They remained in companionable silence until Mr. Fairweather brought out a stack of plates and silverware and Zoë-Grace got up to set the table.
Breakfast that morning consisted of Jamaica’s national dish—ackee and saltfish—served with flaky fried dumplings, fried plantains, and steamed calaloo. After prayer, everyone served themselves.
Aunt Ruby began, “I know you’ve told me before, but what exactly is this ‘ack-key’? Before coming here, I read that it tastes like scrambled eggs, but in my opinion, it has its own flavor. I can’t even describe it. All I can say is that it’s savory and the texture is a little like scrambled eggs. I like eating it, though!”
Mr. Fairweather spoke up as everyone laughed. “Ackee”—his pronunciation rhymed with ‘tacky’—”is our national fruit. It was originally from West Africa, but it was brought here either with or by enslaved Africans from that area. The fact that it’s part of our national dish is fascinating to people from other countries, because if it’s not picked at the right time, it can cause something called Jamaican Vomiting Sickness.”
Zoë-Grace stifled a grin as Aunt Ruby looked dubiously at her fork laden with the yellow fruit that had been cooked with salted cod, tomatoes, green peppers, garlic, green onions, scotch bonnet peppers, thyme, and onions.
Mr. Fairweather smiled before continuing, “In truth, ackees grow in pods. They’ve got to stay on the tree until the pods open naturally. If you pick them early and force them open, there’s a substance in the immature ackee that causes vomiting. I’ve been hearing for years that eating young ackees will make you sick, but the term Jamaican Vomiting Sickness is not in common use here.
“We have an ackee tree,” he pointed to the far corner of the back yard, “but folks who buy ackees really have to be sure they’re buying them from reputable persons. Of course, the ones that are canned are produced on farms and they wouldn’t endanger their client base by canning unfit ackees.”
Aunt Ruby took another forkful while Zoë-Grace reached for a fried dumpling, broke it open, and made a sandwich with some ackee and saltfish, a little calaloo, and a small piece of plantain, which she then closed up and handed to Aunt Ruby. “You should try this. Everything in one bite.” She turned to Mr. Fairweather, “No matter how many times I try, I can’t get my dumplings to turn out this flaky.”
Mrs. Fairweather volunteered, “Everyone has their secrets, but he uses cold butter and cold water in the dough. He learned that from me.”
They all chuckled.
“Have you always done the cooking, Mr. Fairweather?” Zoë-Grace wanted to know.
“Only since I retired. I’ve always enjoyed cooking, but before then, I didn’t have the time. Hyacinth not only worked outside the home, but since she generally came home earlier, she also did all the weekday cooking. The Saturday soup and Sunday dinner were my domain, though.”
Mrs. Fairweather piped in, “He also spent one Saturday a month cooking for the soup kitchen at our church. His chicken foot soup is legendary. But one of the tourist resorts has started sponsoring the program now, so they don’t need anyone to cook. We still go out one Saturday a month to help serve, though. In fact, we’re scheduled to work this Saturday if either of you wants to come and help out.”
“Sign me up,” said Aunt Ruby.
Zoë-Grace wasn’t sure she had planned to stay till Saturday, but what could it hurt? Like Aunt Ruby had said, it didn’t seem like the Fairweathers would be kicking her out before then. “Me, too,” she offered.
“I must admit, I didn’t even know people ate chicken feet until I came here,” Aunt Ruby said. “But I can testify, Zoë-Grace, that his soup is something to talk about. I just tell him not to put any of those chicken feet in my serving. I don’t mind the flavor, but I can’t get over the way they look like human hands! I’m glad I tried it though.
“Somewhere along the way, I learned the concept of not ‘yucking’ someone’s ‘yum,’ and it really does apply when you travel. You look at someone eating something new and different for you, and your instinct is to say ‘Yuck!’ even while they’re saying ‘Yum!’ but they’re enjoying it. Who am I to judge?” Everyone laughed. “And to tell you the absolute truth, everything I’ve had in Jamaica tastes great. Even that mannish water soup, despite the fact that Roy here told me I shouldn’t ask him what he puts into it. He says I’d be better off not knowing! I don’t even want to know why he told me not to be too concerned if I find any teeth in it, because they’re probably not mine.”
They all burst out laughing. Zoë-Grace couldn’t remember the last time she had tasted mannish water. No doubt Mr. Fairweather was right in not telling Aunt Ruby that the main ingredients were the head and well-cleaned intestines of a male goat. A local favorite, it was usually reserved for special occasions and social gatherings.
There was a comfortable silence as everyone turned their attention to the meal. Then Mrs. Fairweather said, “Zoë-Grace, you were going to tell me how you and Isaiah ended up winning the lottery.”
Ah, yes. Zoë-Grace quickly retold the story of how she had ended up with the winning ticket, as well as Isaiah’s part in the whole thing. “To be honest, the idea of profiting from other people’s loss doesn’t sit right with me.”
“I understand,” Mr. Fairweather said. “The Bible does tell us that by the sweat of our brow, we shall eat. So what are you going to do? Give your portion of the money away?”
Zoë-Grace shrugged. “I have no idea who—or how—to give. I mean, do I give all of it to one local charity? Or do I give a little to everybody who has a need? I’ve heard about these charities that use most of the money for administrative purposes, with very little trickling down to the people who really need it. Not to mention the international scandals we’ve heard about, where for decades people have funneled charity donations into their own pockets, living high on the proverbial hill while the intended recipients suffer. None of it sits well with me.”
“And you’ve been praying about this?” Mrs. Fairweather asked.
“I have, but to be honest, all I’m hearing from God is a resounding silence. I never knew how loud silence could be until now.”
“Speaking of silence, how far did you get reading Esther?” Aunt Ruby asked.
Zoë-Grace wasn’t sure there was a link between silence and the book of Esther, but she responded, “Almost halfway through. I still think the book is about Esther.”
Aunt Ruby said nothing for a moment. “Let me know when you finish it, so we can talk about it.”
“Oh, are you two doing a Bible study?” Mrs. Fairweather asked.
“In a manner of speaking,” Aunt Ruby offered. “During my fast yesterday, the Lord sent me to the book of Esther, and I wanted to discuss it with Zoë-Grace. She was kind enough to agree to read it. Would either of you like to join us?” Without waiting for a response, she turned to Zoë-Grace. “Do you think you’ll be finished reading it today?”
Zoë-Grace nodded. “It’s not like I have any other solid plans. How about five o’clock?”
“I’ll be right here. Hyacinth? Roy?”
Mr. Fairweather shook his head, “I have Men’s Fellowship at church this evening, but feel free to go ahead without me.”
“Count me in. Esther is one of my favorite books,” Mrs. Fairweather said, as she excused herself and started clearing the table. “May I get anything for anyone?”
“That breakfast was amazing, but I’ll take another half-cup of this coffee. I’ll have to take some of this with me when I head back to Florida. Jasmine often has Blue Mountain coffee when I go next door for breakfast, but it’s too pricey for me to buy in the stores.”
Mr. Fairweather said, “It’s expensive here, too, but in the supermarkets, it costs less than you’d pay in the resort areas or at home in Florida. Remind me to get you some just before you’re ready to leave.”
“When are you leaving, Aunt Ruby?” Zoë-Grace asked.
“I’m here for another couple of months. The Fairweathers were gracious enough to have me come spend a good, long time with them, and they’ve been the best hosts.”
Mr. Fairweather said, “Having her here with us has been a blessing. She’s been such a good neighbor to Jasmine and Ryan—like family, really—and we’ve been pestering her to come stay with us for years. We were happy she finally agreed to come spend some time with us so we could show her our island home.”
“I didn’t want to do a quick turnaround like I did the first time I was here. Besides, Jamaica is so beautiful, I can see now that it really takes an extended stay to do it justice.”
“Where have you been thus far?” Zoë-Grace asked as Mrs. Fairweather returned with Aunt Ruby’s mug.
“Let me see. You took me to Montego Bay. I’ve also been out to Portland. So beautiful. The Blue Lagoon was gorgeous, and we took a boat tour of Somerset Falls. We overnighted in Ocho Rios on the way back and saw Dunns River Falls. With these knees I didn’t try to climb it, but it was majestic. We spent that weekend in Negril at Isaiah’s hotel, and before I leave, I’m supposed to go to Kingston. I’m really looking forward to visiting historic Port Royal, and we’re also driving out to—” she looked at Mr. Fairweather for help.
“Treasure Beach, in the southwest.”
Zoë-Grace laughed. “It sounds like you’ve seen more of Jamaica than I have, Aunt Ruby! I’ve never been to Portland, though I’ve lived here my whole life.”
They all grinned. Mrs. Fairweather offered, “You and Isaiah are more than welcome to join us on any of the excursions.”
She said, “We just might take you up on that.”
She would try not to think too much about how easily “You and Isaiah...” had rolled off Mrs. Fairweather’s tongue, or how right it had sounded to her own ears.